Cliffhanger Theater!

“I know, but I can tell you have a good tama.”

Mokoto slammed her hand down on the table.  Her bottle tipped onto the floor, and alcohol and mixers flew out of Jeremiah and Jebediah’s drinks, then back into the glasses.  The two men had moved their hands towards their own inner jacket pockets, but they lowered their hands slightly when Mokoto didn’t draw her gun.  Her hand lifted up slightly, and her fingers quickly snatched some kind of small picture up from the twenty dollar bill on the table.  “On second thought, don’t answer.  You two fight over morgue duty.  I’m out of here.  I have some other ideas to check out.  Don’t call me until 3 AM.”   She angrily walked out of the bar, and only when the door closed did Jeremiah speak. 

“That didn’t go as we planned.”

“Now what?”

“We wait until midnight, then we go to the morgue.  Whatever idea she’s chasing, I hope it works.  It would be a shame to call the boss and tell him that she…isn’t heeding the forecast.”

***

“It’s dark in here.  And it’s freezing too.”

“Not so loud Phil!”

Old man B shook his head.  “Shaddup, both of ya.  Now, remember what I said.”  He then closed the door of the boxcar almost all the way, and Bob and Phil heard his footsteps on the rocks as he walked away.  Bob pulled out his cellphone and flipped it open to use as a makeshift flashlight.

“Well, it looks like we have our own sleeper car.”

Phil flipped open his phone as well.  He walked to a group of crates and plopped down on the floor.  “Well, I’ve never rode on a train before.  At least I’ll be able to tell that tale to my cell mate.”   Bob sat on a crate near Phil and crossed his arms.

“Phil, I’m sorry about all this.  I really am.  If I had any idea we’d end up on the run and in a boxcar when we went over…”

Phil started laughing.  “We’d still be here, because there was no other way for this night to go.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon.  Those lucky sunglasses meant a lot to you.  I’ve tried to avoid it, but I know that Jer’s death really shook you up.  You’ve got those.  Hopefully they aren’t evidence, and we can have a good laugh about this when it’s all over.  Besides, you’re big into adventure.  This…this is an adventure.”

“Adventure is one thing, but I’ve put us both in danger.  Real danger.  Not my cooking kind of danger, but police and assassin danger.  Cripes, we live in Sioux fuckin’ Falls man.  How on Earth did some kind of weird conspiracy find its way to South Da-freakin’-kota?”

Phil considered his answer, but his phone started vibrating.  He looked at it.  “Sioux Falls police.  They’re calling.”

Bob checked his phone.  “Same here, I didn’t have mine on vibrate.”  Bob turned his phone over and slid off the battery cover.  He popped his battery out, and then back in.  Phil saw and heard him do it, and quickly followed suit.  “Let’s hope Old Man B’s paranoia about cell phones doesn’t prove true.

Suddenly train lurched forward.  Bob and Phil looked at each other, as neither knew where they would be stopping next.

Phil lifted his leg, and kicked Bob’s right leg as hard as he could. Bob’s leg lifted, and Phil stomped on the gas. “STEER!” he yelled. Bob cranked the wheel to the right to avoid the oncoming cars, then left to avoid a few more. Horns blared, brakes screeched and the Grand Prix swerved about, somehow missing everything.

Mokoto frowned. She didn’t have a clear shot. Her gun didn’t even make it out of her jacket. She was about to rev up and chase them down once again.

“Nice bike.”

Mokoto twisted around, and saw a small girl. She was of Asian ancestry, though not purely Japanese like Mokoto. Her hair was in pigtails and she was on a pink bicycle. Her Hello Kitty shirt had juice stains and her cargo pants were a size or three too big.

“How…how long have you been there?”

“I followed you down the street. I want a motorcycle someday, and yours looks really nice. Mine will be pink though.”

Mokoto lifted the visor on her helmet. “I don’t think they make the Ninja 14 in pink.”

“I’ll get my brother to paint it. He likes to paint stuff.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sakura.”

“Well Sakura, you shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“I know, but I can tell you have a good tama.”

Mokoto froze for a moment. “A good tama? How can you be sure? Wait, do you know what that is?”

“It’s your spirit.”

Mokoto pulled her helmet off and looked the girl over. Something about her seemed familiar, and maybe a bit too familiar. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“What?”

“You’re sad now. Was it something I said?”

“Hm” Mokoto said. “You’re very perceptive Sakura. More or less. My name’s Mokoto. I’m just passing through town.”

“Is that why you had that GPS thingie out?”

Damn this kid doesn’t miss anything Mokoto thought. Well, maybe one thing. “That’s right. I’m…trying to find some friends.”

“Well I hope you find them.”

From down the street a voice called out. “SAKURA!”

“That’s my mommy. I have to go home Mokoto. It was nice meeting you.”

Mokoto smiled. “Likewise.”

Sakura reached into her pocket, and pulled out a something and set it on the back of the motorcycle. “Here. If you decide to sell your motorcycle, let me know. My bank is almost full.” She then turned her bike around and rode down the sidewalk. Mokoto picked up the small rectangle. It was one of her school pictures. Mokoto shook her head. Doesn’t this girl know there are some real monsters in this world? She tucked the picture in her inner jacket pocket, right by her gun and sighed. I’m one of them. The monster with a good tama. Yeah right. Mokoto looked down at her motorcycle. She shook her head, knowing what she was about to do was once again not a textbook move. Her hand went for her front pocket, and she pulled out her Nokia. She scrolled through the uploaded contacts. She found the number, and hit dial. Two rings later, an answer.

“This is Bob, who’s this?”