Plan B -- a blognovel :
Updated: 11/29/2002; 6:11:59 PM.

 









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Monday, October 21, 2002

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The taxi stops about a hundred feet from the patrol cars, and the driver says, Nine-fifty.

Jordan looks at me and says, Do you have enough?

Yes, I say. As I get my wallet Jordan gets out of the cab, and I hand over a ten to the driver saying, Keep the change. The driver nods, taking the bill and putting it in his wallet. As he resets the meter I get out of the cab and walk to where Jordan is standing. The buildings around us flash surreal in brilliant colors, like some sort of gigantic nightclub. Looking up, beyond the lights, the stars and the moon hang quiet, inconsequent.

I look at Jordan, who looks back at me and says, Showtime.

We walk to the nearest cop.

Officer? I say, and the cop turns around.

Can I help you? he says.

We were called, Jordan says, Some kind of problem with the door.

Can I see some ID please? he says.

We give him our IDs and he looks at then, carefully, as if he could actually get useful information out of them.

A problem, you said? He says then, handing us back the IDs.

The door. A problem with the door. People are trapped, Jordan says, and I wonder why she's using short sentences.

Door? says the cop.

We nod in unison.

The cop thinks for a moment and says, let me get the lieutenant.

He walks away. We see him going up to another man in a black suit and talking to him. The man looks back at us, then at the officer. The lieutenant starts to walk our way.

It's then that I realize that there aren't many people here, although it certainly looks like it. I count six officers, plus the lieutenant-guy and another man, older, his gray hair back to us.

Why are they even here?

Can I help you? Says the lieutenant.

We were called, I say, Maintenance.

Maintenance? Says the lieutenant.

Maintenance, says Jordan, There's a problem with a door?

Door? the lieutenant says, and then, Excuse me.

He walks away.

I look at Jordan, who shrugs, and when I look back at him he is talking to the older guy. For a moment they rise their voices, arguing. Finally, the older guy pats the lieutenant on the shoulder, and then he looks at us.

Then he starts walking our way.

 

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2:11:27 PM    

© Copyright 2002 Diego Doval.



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