STRANGE DAY
Copyright (c) by Rick Yost

The morning was cold and wet. I stepped out the front door of my apartment building and closed the top button of my coat. I checked my watch; I was running late, again.
I started down the stairs and saw something strange below. There, at the base of the stairs, waddling along and pecking at the sidewalk, was a very large bird. I slowed to an awkward stop on the bottom step and stared at it like a wide-eyed toddler. It paid no attention to me, it just continued to waddle and peck.
Then I had a small epiphany, “It’s a Condor!” I said aloud, “Hey, I actually learned something from the Discovery Channel!” I grinned at my ability to make lame humor, and then looked up to see the park across the street.
Pinnacle Drive was a narrow lane, three blocks long, dotted with a dozen three-story apartment buildings. Evenly spaced Oak trees pushed their way up through the sidewalks. The street ended in a cul-de-sac where my apartment building stood. Directly across the street was a city park with swings and a one-hoop basketball court. Some mornings there would be a hundred Pigeons scattered about, today they’d all been replaced with Condors. All up and down my street, there were birds the size of Turkeys acting like Pigeons.
I sidestepped the bird and headed for my car. I saw several of my neighbors on their way to work. Like myself, they were trying to understand this strange phenomenon. It was more than just weird; it was eerie.
My cell phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin, performing a short, impromptu, comedy-skit called, ‘fishing my phone from my overcoat’. It had fallen through a hole in the pocket and was floating around in the lining. I managed to pull it out and answer on the fourth ring. It was Jessica.
”Mornin’ boss.” I said trying to sound fully awake.
"Where the hell are you Baker?" she demanded. She seemed to be in a better mood than usual.
"I'm in heavy traffic. I’m on my way!” I said as I got into my car and started the engine.
“You said you’d be here by eight. What happened?”
“Aw c’mon!” I whined. “I’d think you could give me a little bit of slack. I put in almost sixty hours last week.” That part was true. However I did have an agenda this morning. I changed my tactic.
”You know, this was supposed to be my day off.” I spoke in the soft, romantic tone I thought she would remember from our brief relationship together. It was two years ago. It lasted for three weeks. It was nothing but continuous, sloppy sex, but it filled a void in us both that needed filling.
Instead of hearing her sigh from remembering our whirlwind love affair, I heard her turn away from the phone and yell orders to someone in her office. I felt a little foolish attempting to bring up what was obviously a more memorable experience for me than it was for her. I never heard her sigh. I decided to blow off the love angle and go for it.
"We can’t meet in your office this morning. Too many people are listening.” I said.
"WHAT!”
I knew that wouldn’t be received well. She tried to sound logical, “Look Julius, I don't have time to play your little spy games. You said you had something for me. What is it? I have a deadline!"
"Listen to me Jessica!” I said, thinking perhaps a little reasoning would make this go my way. “I've stumbled onto something really cool, and as much as you’re yelling at me now, you’ll yell at me even more a month from now when everybody knows about this but you!” I paused briefly for effect and then continued. Meet me in the Internet section of the Library in twenty minutes. I'll show you what I'm talking about." She reluctantly agreed.
Jessica was the editor for a large weekly newspaper. Her office was a block from the library. I had a twenty-minute drive into the city.
Just down the street from my apartment I pulled over and put the car in park. I leaned over and pulled the tracking transmitter from under the passenger side dash. I'd spotted it the night before when I dropped my cigarette lighter on the floorboard. I stepped out of my car and placed the magnetized, transmitter under the rear bumper of a UPS delivery truck parked at the curb.
“That’ll give ‘em something to track.” I got back in my car and continued my drive to the library.
It had already been a rather strange morning. The strangeness continued.
Dark storm clouds rumbled overhead. The city was awash in a strange colored light that reminded me of the green-tinted, tornado clouds from back home in Texas. The buildings and monuments of the city were bathed in the light. It looked like some alien world on a science fiction paperback cover. It began to rain.
While on the freeway, a gust of wind picked up a piece of trash from the street and flung it onto my windshield. It was a two-foot piece of yellow plastic tape. It caught on my windshield wipers for an instant; just long enough for me to read, "Police Crime Scene. Do Not…" then it blew away.
In the mirror I watched the tape follow my wake to the pavement behind me.
It was then I saw the same blue, Crown Victoria on my tail I’d noticed the day before.
I decided it must be the Feds. It was probably their tracking device that I’d found in my car.
I was not used to this kind of attention. I was an amateur, photographer/ journalist-wanna-be. All the assignment desk had given me so far was useless, filler-news such as covering water-main breaks, and a City Council-woman’s lost dog. I was itchin’ for some real news. I’m not overly ambitious; I just like this kind of work. Go figure.
Having someone tailing me was exciting, but a bit un-nerving. However, it did mean that one of the half-dozen leads I was following on my own had some weight. If I only knew which one.
I also took some comfort in knowing that things were cool as long as they just wanted to follow me. It’s that whole, ‘pulling me over, beating the shit out of me, stuffing controlled substance into my pocket, and arresting me thing’ I didn’t want any part of.
Another strange note on the morning, during my twenty-minute drive, I must have seen a dozen ’67 Volkswagen Beetles.
“Must be a car show or something.” I said aloud. (Why do people actually speak to themselves? Can’t they hear what they’re thinking?)
I pulled into the library parking lot and found a space. I walked toward the building through a cold rain that had slowed to a drizzle.
“There's something about the smell of rain.” I thought to myself. (quietly this time)
”Why don't they have air fresheners that smell like rain, fresh cut grass, new books, or Zippo lighters? They'd make a fortune." I walked a few more steps while reflecting on that last bit of nonsense. Okay, so maybe this strange day and my lack of sleep were catching up to me: I was even thinking strange things.
Stepping in out of the rain and wind, I entered the cavernous, five-story lobby at the front of the library. It was a very busy morning, lots of people.
I made my way to the third level and the Internet section. I chose from a half-dozen PCs not in use, sat down, and logged on.
Jessica arrived, out of breath and annoyed. “I sure get tired of your shit sometimes Baker!” she said in her no-nonsense, managerial voice. She was a gorgeous, tall, brunette in her late forties. She proudly swung around a beautiful, long ponytail that just touched the top of her butt. When it hung straight down, it was almost like a big pointer of sorts, drawing your attention to her well-shaped ass.
”Shhhh.” I said softly with my finger to my lips.
She lowered her voice to that raspy whisper that still made me tingle. She spoke over my shoulder as we watched the screen in front of us.
“Damn-it, Jules! Right now there’s a bunch of idiots gathering around my desk. They’re waiting for me to come back and answer all their stupid questions. I don’t have time for your nonsense too.” As she spoke she stepped closer and pressed her sleek, firm body against my back. She put her hands on my shoulders. I refused to respond, hoping she’d back off.
“You really piss me off you know.” She said as she stroked my earlobe with her finger. Then she stopped. “Wow, what is that?” She asked, now paying attention to the screen.
Before I could answer our attention was taken by a commotion in the book stacks across the room. There we saw an elderly man and woman, maybe in their seventies, dressed like Charles Dickens’s street-urchins. Their dark clothes were dirty and ragged, their faces were smeared with street grime, and they wore fingerless, cotton gloves over their tired, trembling hands.
Whether they had wandered in to read a good book, or just wanted to get out of the bad weather, it seemed they were being asked to leave. After a short yet impressive display of indignation, they resigned to being escorted out of the building by a uniformed guard.
The straightest route to the elevators would take them right past us. Jessica and I watched with an awkward curiosity as they shuffled past the book stacks, tables, and people in the big room, heading our direction.
The old man pushed a ragged, empty wheelchair through the huge, usually quiet and proper-decorum of the library. As they approached, the old man’s eyes and mine met. As he passed close enough for us to brush elbows, he looked me up and down and snapped in a worn out voice, “What the hell are you gawkin’ at?” He never slowed in his journey past us, nearly colliding with our table.
A few feet behind him, giving a limping pursuit, was the old woman. She intently watched the floor in front of her steps, mumbling in almost a whisper as she walked, “Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!…”
After they passed and went on their way, Jessica and I glanced at each other for a moment. Then we turned back to the computer and continued our conversation.
"How'd you find this?" she asked.
I replied with a grin, "A buddy of mine turned me on to it. There are some really interesting things going on here; an eclectic mix of great music and art."
Jessica leaned over my shoulder, put on her glasses, and gazed at the computer screen with me. She knew of the effect she still had on me, and she liked it. Her face was right next to mine. When she moved I could hear the static pop of her slip under her wool business-suit-skirt. Her scent filled my senses, making me, for lack of a better word, uneasy. A mere glance to my right offered a clear view down her crisp, white blouse. I was about to lose it when she asked, “What city are these people in?”
”Dallas!” I replied, thankful for the break in the tension. “It says they’re downtown. Don’t you have an affiliate office in Dallas?” I asked hoping she’d take my hint.
“Well, yes.” she said, back to business. “It’s more like a closet with a phone, but we do have...” She stopped mid-sentence, realizing what I was asking for. I did my best to keep a simple smile on my face and my attention on the screen. She turned and did her best to burn a hole in the side of my head with her eyes.
“You’re always working an angle aren’t you Baker?”
She was visibly pissed. She thought she’d been working me. She threw her overcoat over her arm, and picked up her umbrella. I swiveled around in my chair to face her. She cut through me with her eyes and spoke again with her best drill-sergeant voice, “Okay Baker-boy! You’ve got what you want.” Her tone said this was merely a lost battle in a war that was far from over.
“I’ll set you up airfare and per-diem. Go down there and check out this ‘Pearl’ place. But I want you back in a week with a complete report on what you find.”
She twirled on her heel and continued to speak as she walked away, “Try not to fall for one of those cow-girls while you’re down there Baker.”
I could hardly wait until she was gone. “YES!” I said quietly.
I was successful. I’d just had a close encounter with an ex-lover who liked to play mind-games. Okay, a small success maybe, but I’ll take it however I can get it. Besides, if I had let her have her way, we would have spent the night together, and then in the morning she’d feel better, but I’d still be stuck in this depressing city, with nothing but shit-work to do. I had just set myself up a trip out of this boring town.
I turned back to my destination’s website on the screen. I was looking forward to going down South. I was looking forward to some sunshine and warmth. I was anticipating seeing something really interesting. I tapped a key and the monitor went blank.

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Copyright, 2006 by Rick Yost