And so, by the time we find where part of Willem’s team are stuck, it is about eight o’clock and now dark.
We find them, on a darkened side street, the silver Chevy van parked in a small lot off the quaint main street. I see that all the shops are closed and as we pull up behind the van in the parking space behind it, I say to Jörn,
“I wonder why we never came here, it’s so pretty.”
“Hmm, likely the times we are living in?” he lightly says and shrugs, “I don’t think they’ve been open for business for months. Remember? —we came up just as everything hit.”
And as he says this, I look around and notice how deserted the quiet, picturesque town looks ....and then try to imagine this place during other times, crammed with people during the Olympics and find it somehow so impossible to.
“Well....” I say regretfully, “it’s too bad we didn’t think to bring your parents here,” as he reaches to open the door to get out
But he doesn’t answer that, instead he says,
“stay in the truck and keep it running. I’ll need the light.”
And as he gets out, he slips on a mask, and then, I see two get out of the silver van to meet him, while another one had already been standing outside smoking a cigarette as we had pulled up— and now I watch him first glance at me and then at Jörn as he walks straight over to him and say,
“Deiter—“ but the rest of what he says is lost in the stillness of the town’s cloak of night, absorbed in the buildings acoustics....
And I look around again to see a walled cluster of surrounding buildings of small and sundry ski and souvenirs shops along with other outdoor sporting gear shops
At first they gather to chat briefly but Jörn keeps a safe distance and gestures to them as he does this. Then Jörn comes back to the truck to get another spare tire and then proceeds to change the rear flattened one, and while he does this, he keeps talking in low tones to them, as one of the others steps up to lend a hand, then takes away the other tire to put it in the van.
It is always cold at night up in the mountains and I watch their breath escape in the darkness and find —the shock of this makes me think, how harmless this once seemed....
and think —what a different world it is
but one day, let us hope that, this too—shall pass.
And wonder if this is something like what it was like during the world wars.... some dark and scary enemy.... the devastation that leaves no one untouched, the protesters and the nonbelievers, the senseless deaths and the troubles around the globe everywhere
It seems to make me wonder over what really matters
....but then I find I wonder even more over this world’s fascination ....seen so clearly in the entertainment industry and its evident audience ....this fascination ....with such luster ....of murder, rape, gruesome crimes, blood and war —and played— in games .... and is the majority of all you ever see streaming in shows and movies. Is it any wonder what the world has become ....
this is often what I have wondered.... and wonder ....dare to change the dialogue.... would that I could inspire; replaced by substance more life sustainable; more intellectually challenging; would that I could dare to dream
So this I think about as I watch them with Jörn and wonder about each of them....
and wonder over
what are the necessary.... ? ....evils
When Jörn returns to the truck, he reaches for the hand sanitizer, then gets in, slamming the door and starts the motor
At first in silence he drives, and I watch them in the rear view following behind
“We’re stopping somewhere to get something to eat, they’re starving,” he says, “there’s not much open around here but there’s a fast food place we passed I saw that is still open.”
I don’t answer, just watch the darkened scenery, still lost in my thoughts
When we come up to it, Jörn waves them on but he pulls up further down to park the truck; he watches them get out and I realize he wants to be on look-out
“Do you want anything?” he asks me
“From there?” I ask him shaking my head
“Well, I thought I’d ask,” and looks at me. “You’re so quiet,” he says
“Don’t you want anything?” I ask
“No....” he says and I see he’s distracted with thoughts
“So what exactly is the plan? You said the others of Willem’s team you expect around midnight?” I ask
“Yes.”
“And then what?” I ask
“Willem’s watching what they are up to at the barn house from the monitors. We’ll wait for the others and decide whether to make a move tonight or....” Jörn stops to think and then after a moment, lets out a heavy sigh, “or wait.”
“Wait for what?” I ask him
He looks at me,
“whether Smulagan shows up.... or....”
“That’s what I thought,” I say watching him; trying to read his face
And after a deep breath, he lets it out and says,
“which .... would be better....” Jörn turns his eyes to me, narrowed, ice-cold steel heat, sharp blades of kryptonite and with the deep crease between his brows, “when we get back .... or there abouts.... first the rest of Willem’s guys need to show up and then..... Willem would have switched on and downloaded the program to send the live footage of the hidden security cameras in the barn house to— them....”
“To ‘them’. You mean the FBI?” I ask
“I mean .... everyone....” he raises his brows and stares dead-center at me, “central intelligence, my government— Stina....”
and suddenly I feel my pulse begin to race
“So when we get back?!” I almost gasp
“We have time—“ Jörn puts a hand on my arm
“How can you be so calm?!” I ask him
“Duva, this is my work. It’s all planning and strategy. Most of the time it all goes as planned,” he says and looks back out towards the parking lot
“Most of the time....” I repeat
But he just stares out ahead deep in thought
“So—how much time do you think?” I ask him
He turns to look at me.
I say,
“you said ‘we have time’”
“Oh— well.... after they see who’s assembled in the barn house.... Willem will alert me first —so.... I think it would be a matter of minutes before they gather their own team together— once they recognize everyone who’s here and....that will be enough to get everyone into action—these aren’t just your everyday assassins, they’re all well known.... so, well— then I’d say— if he’s back in DC—Smulagan— he would have a crew in less then— well, at most two hours ....but I’d bet sooner,” Jörn says simply with a shrug
....and it is something I see in his manner....
That strange and familiar thing and ....with it the strange and now familiar chill that I so well recognize
—and a face overlaid in the gray, chill blustery gale, half obscured by the long gold hair, caught on the wind....
and with it the memory of there, that glow within the kryptonite of vampire eyes, looking back at me from dreams, so long familiar, and so much.... a part of me
But accompanied now by that other chill. So often described by some as someone walking over their own grave
But I don’t recoil from it. No. Instead, I feel almost drawn.... like some foolish moth to a flame ....and move over to him, reaching for him now —as if partly from that more than dream, which feels so deeply etched and so indelibly within the retinas of a soul. I touch his face....having known and memorized every line and shadow, every crease.... as if I put it all there myself and move over to him
I put my fingers to outline his eyes, drawing with my fingertips and stare inside ....there—then move my fingertips over his lips and move to climb over him and wrap around his hips and press my mouth on his and loose his hair with my hands, in the silk of his hair,
“why do I stay?” I say against his ear
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