Undesirables

Chapter 1: The Girl on the Train

The bus ran fifteen minutes late that Tuesday evening just like it had every Tuesday evening since Res Sargent could remember. Res checked his watch with a heavy sigh, and shifted his heavy backpack before shuffling aboard with the same old people he saw every day: the stock-broker who used this bus to ride to his mistress's apartment while his wife thought he was at a poker night with the boys; the old lady who always gave him a stick of peppermint gum even though he despised the smell of peppermint; the hair dye girl, currently sporting purple dreadlocks, who always listened to her music blaring through a scratched and paint splattered pair of headphones; the chain-smoking waitress who always double fisted cigarettes all the way to her stop; the pair of lawyers from the firm just up the block, an overworked day security guard from the West Street bank; and a group of college burnouts who usually spent the whole ride talking about who they'd hooked up with the night before.

Res dropped into his regular seat, two rows up from the back, tossing his backpack in the floor and stuffed the vile smelling gum in his pants pocket. Every week it was just the same. The same passengers. The same driver. The same boring over discussed conversations. He slumped back as much as he could, cramming his 6 foot frame into the dingey too small puckered leather seats and listened to the gentle hum of monotony. He was almost certain that he could predict, down to their word choice, every single conversation that his fellow commuters would have in the thirty five minutes he road the bus, and for that he wasn't sure if he should be proud or a little bit sad at the lack of excitement in his life.

But then, at the last minute, something unusual did happen. Two more passengers hustled up the sidewalk going against the flow of regular foot traffic, moving almost in sync, and just managed to board the bus as it pulled out of the station.

Res watched the two newcomers with interest and couldn't help but notice that they were almost complete opposites. The first passenger was a man in his late thirties or early forties with dark hair, an unremarkable face, dark tinted sunglasses, and a long black wool coat. He was the textbook definition of nondescript, and the only remarkable thing that Res could note as he passed him by to sit in the back of the bus was that he was a bit taller than average. If he'd not arrived on the platform so late, he might have escaped notice altogether, but not the second passenger. She was anything but non-descript.

She was pixie short and moonlight pale with a long sheath of dark red hair like a fine plum shiraz that she kept fidgeting with nervously as she handed the driver her metrocard. While she waited she looked around the bus with intelligent deep-set eyes like two chips of solid jade, fixed on each and every other passenger on the bus weighing and assessing. Just as her eyes passed to Res, the driver handed her back her card, cutting her assessment short.

Res bit back disappointment. He was curious to see how he measured up in her eyes. Not that he was interested. Really. She was just a little girl, probably no more than twelve, and he was seventeen years too wise to get pulled into that kind of drama.

Still he couldn't help but watch her out of the corner of his eye as he she passed him by and moved to sit across from the man she'd followed aboard in the very back of the bus. Curious Res looked in the big cracked rear view mirror positioned at the top front of the bus trying to determine if the girl and the man were somehow connected, but the girl didn't speak and the man didn't even spare her a glance. They just sat there quietly, keeping to their respective sides of the isle, the girl still fiddling with her hair and casting furtive glances at her fellow passengers.

Twenty minutes passed, passengers boarded and departed, the bus clattered on, and Res was just nearly to berate himself for thinking this bus ride was going to be any different at all when suddenly the girl turned in her seat, facing her knees toward the unremarkable man.

"Excuse me," she said clearing her throat.

The man didn't react.

"Excuse me," she said a little louder her eyes flashing with determination and something deeper, "Sir, I'm looking for someone. Someone I think who can help me with... with a very specific problem. Can you tell me, what is it you do?"

Res tensed up, heart clenching tight in his chest as the black coat man slid off his sunglasses with an oily smile, turned the exceptional young girl, and said, "Sweetheart, I don't think I'm the man you're looking for. See, my job is to make the bad people disappear."

"Actually," the girl said, trying to steady a slight tremor in her voice, "You are just the man I was looking for."