Twisting Stagnation

Interlude Five

The crowds gathering behind lines of the club-wielding City Guard, all quieted as a single man jogged out of the building, half his body hidden by the massive shadows cast by the edifice's pillars.

Men in uniform poured out of a carriage, pulling out batons from long leather sheaths. The blue hat-wearing guards formed a semicircle around the entrance, all of them showing visible signs of tension as they held their weapons ready. Paramedics were pouring around, picking up the inanimate forms of people falling left and right and loading them into carriages.

He talked to them, his voice never reaching the crowd as it was muffled through his dark mask. One of the guards ran back, promptly returning with a captain who barked things at the mysterious man.

He replied, shrugged, then looked at his watch.

A howling whistle pierced the air as vapour shot from the pipe atop a sausage cart. Its white form clouded the nearby guards' vision, blocking their view of what lay beyond the searing heat emanating from the steam.

The vehicle pushed through the barricade of running guards, its wooden wheels skidding on the stone sidewalk as it came to a stop at the base of the bank's steps. Dozens of them dived out of the way of the rampaging sausage stand.

The captain rose from the ground, wiping the dirt and grime from his otherwise pristine uniform before looking up to the man who had hopped down a few steps, stopping near his still-rattling cart.

Guards ran around, reforming their circle while twitching at every sound and movement, their shoulders tense and their weapons held high.

They talked for a few moments until the man pulled out a tall vial and gently deposited it on the ground at his feet. He walked down the last few steps and opened a compartment in the cart's side as if he had all the time in the world.

Pushing the cart, the man moved ahead and through the army of guards that split to let him go.

The guards and crowd followed, keeping a respectable distance as they watched him head for the train platform.

There was hardly a person in sight as he rolled the cart into the station and parked it near the rails. The City Guard formed another semicircle around him, even as a rust-bucket of a train pulled up, bellowing to a halt in its designated area.

The train was normal but for one of its carriages that bore no resemblance to the windowed ones used for passengers. The door to this cargo car dropped opened and out of it, two ramps fell, both perfectly placed so as to allow the man to push his cart into it.

The other cars opened and hundreds of passengers poured out, mingling mindlessly with the confused guards.

Moments later, the train whistled and began to move, disappearing around the first bend.

That night, over a dozen people trampled out of the Erbain General Clinic. All of them stumbled around and coughed, clearing their throats as their doctors kindly reminded them to avoid strange sausages.