Chapter 20 - The Cold Few

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Chapter20 - Simon Maccarth - The Cold Few


"MaybeI'll go see Lilly with this information while I remember..." Ithink.

"...I'msure she'd be grateful for that."


Islip the papers beneath my arm as I pack up the remainder of mythings. Barely noticing the time it's not until Nancy points it outto me on my way to the door that I consider checking my watch. Thehours I've spent flicking through files this evening is unreal butI know it's all going to be worth it in the end. So maybe I'm ata loss with the Bud's case for now, but at least I can say thatwhen I was asked for help by an upset citizen, I took the time tohelp them. Jack'd be proud of me for it. That minor moment'sthought stretches a smile across my face.

"Ahero of the people," I chuckle under my breath.

"That'swhat he'd say."

Ican't say I'm a happy man, and smiling does cause my cheeks toache in the weirdest ways, but that's neither here nor there whenit comes to my boy. Hell I'm close to laughing at the thought as Imake for the parking lot.

"You'rein a good mood," yells Nancy as we part ways.

Shethrows her coat over her shoulders and runs the few metres to her caras the rain pelts down with merciless angst. I on the other hand haveno way to cover my head from the storm but in truth a little rainnever bothered me. When I was a child I'd sit beside the window andwatch every drop as it made its way from sky to ground. There wasfascination during those times. There was peace in such simplethings. Now the world's made of blood and shit and screams andresponsibilities. It's nice though, to truly see the rain again.Carefully I tuck the documents under my clothing and wrap my blazerjacket to me tightly. It may not be waterproof but it's the closestI can get. It seems that within my very first step into the open I'msoaked. My shoes squelch. My clothes droop with water weight, and myface drips with a waterfall-like stream. I run to begin with but giveup only a couple of strides in. I stroll, quite content, to my car.The water trickles down every crevice of my body like a lover'sexploration. I shiver but don't feel cold. When I at last reach myscrap of a car I throw the driver's side door open and fling thedampened files inside. Something after that makes me stop. I stand inthe rain with the feeling of watching eyes on me. A couple of carsremain but none of them have their lights on or the tell tale sign offog emanating from the back pipe. The vehicles are, in a manor ofspeaking, dead. Then why does it feel like this ? I squint my lids tofocus and try to see through the blazing mist of my breath as it aimsto distract me. A hand pats my arm. Turning I see Wesley leaningacross the car from the passenger side door. He's dry for the mostpart and must have been sat in his car waiting for me. He's dressedin his usual immaculate suit and his favourite brown trench coatwhich, like mine, helps little in keeping him dry.

"JesusSkippy ! You scared the crap outta me," I say with a hand on mydrumming heart.

I'mnot lying when I say it either. Not only is my pulse racing but for asecond or two I can't breathe. It causes a cough that feels like mythroat is trying to make a run for it. I'm able to pass it off asjust a smokers tiff and Wesley thinks nothing of it.

"SorryGramps," he winks.

"Iforget that at your age people startle easily."

"Veryfunny Skippy but kindly go fuck yourself."

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