The Minute Man: Part 5
Dakota found the past itchier than she would have liked. The dress and bonnet they’d acquired was wool woven for the express purpose of making someone pine for cotton fabrics. She erupted in a full body scratch fit and let her eyes roll back into her skull as the wave of bliss poured down her spine. This moment of joy was quickly soured by the stench of Boston harbor that invaded her sinuses once more. It was somewhat comforting to know that some things past or present never change. She sighed, and tried not to be bored.
Agent Travis had left her outside of a pub while he went inside to try and get information on something. He wouldn’t say what the information was or why she had to wait outside. “It happened 200 years ago. How secret could it be?” she had asked. Her reply was a door slammed in her face and 30 minutes of standing around trying not to be conspicuous. Trying was the operative word. Everyone that passed by her stared at her like they knew she didn’t belong here. Like a scarlet letter had been sewn poorly on her stolen whore-dress. She wasn’t sure what the letter would be but whatever it was, it must be large and done in bright colors. Dakota shrank away from the city streets for the comfort of alley shadows where she ran headlong into another bright color.
“Oy, what’s this then?” said the redcoat soldier to the two friends he had with him. They all three smiled at her with malnourished libidos. The hair on Dakota’s neck stood at attention and started looking at the want ads for new employment.
Now normally there would be a bargaining period where the would be victim would try and convince their attackers that it was not in everyone’s best interests to resort to violence and that it would be so much better if everyone just left well enough alone. The attackers would consider this advice and then spend the rest of their time deciding on the options of robbery, rape, or murder. Dakota wasn’t much of a traditionalist and kicked the first soldier between the legs so hard it made the brickwork wince.
By the time the others started to chase her, Dakota had already managed over a wooden fence; A feat that was executed faster than an Olympian with the added difficulty of a dress. For two blocks she ran on pure reflex and adrenaline before her brain came off its coffee break and started nit-picking what reflex and adrenaline had done.
“Wouldn’t it have been better to run into the pub where Agent Travis is?” asked Brain.
Reflex coughed nervously while Adrenaline made a show of looking anywhere but at Brain.
“Well where are we now?” asked Brain.
“Um… someplace British soldiers aren’t?” said Reflex.
Brain closed its eyes and rubbed its temples. “Ok. Fine. Just let me start driving again,” said Brain and steered Dakota into the next available alley.
Dakota hid behind some boxes and peered out of the gap between buildings. Her ears could hear horses and people but nothing that sounded like soldiers or running. She was safe. Adrenaline decided it had enough and fatigue flooded her arteries. She had started to relax and piece together what she should do next when the large calloused hand went over her mouth and thick arms pythoned around the rest of her. The black of passing out closed around her, and it smelled like herring and Marxism.
Copyright 2007, JJ Kahrs