Mirage: 2040 ..Part 13 …Fleeting Shadows
—Dean Koontz
Creed and I were spending a quiet night relaxing by the fire when there was a knock on the door.
It was a local woman I recognized from when Creed and I canvassed the neighbourhood trying to find the owner of Happy, the pup we ended up adopting.
She was glancing about nervously, and seemed wary either of being out on the dark streets or afraid of being observed.
"Good evening Professor Learner, my name is Nora Walker. I was asked by the residents to see if you were still interested in organizing a neighbourhood watch group."
"C'mon in," I smiled. "You know Creed Williams, I'm sure."
"Yes, I read her articles in The Star.
"Would you like a coffee, Nora?" Creed asked.
"Oh, no thank you," she answered anxiously, "I can only stay a minute. It's just that some of the residents noticed a strange car the past few nights that seemed to be patrolling the streets—perhaps we're still nervous and on guard against those citizen vigilantes returning."
"Well, I can assure you we're still interested in forming a neighbourhood watch group but we also have other news to share. Do you think it's possible for us to meet in the church tomorrow evening to organize things?"
"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, "how about tomorrow night at 7pm? I can spread the word and leave notices in people's mailboxes."
"Sounds like a plan," I laughed, "and maybe someone could get the license plate number of that car and a description of the driver."
"I'll tell the residents to be on the watch."
"Things are moving quickly, " Creed observed after the neighbour left, " and we have to take advantage of people's willingness to participate."
I nodded. "I couldn't agree more. We have to strike while the iron is hot and people are willing to volunteer."
At that moment, Happy, gave a low growl and stood up, staring at the den window.
I motioned for Creed to keep talking while I crept along the wall toward the window. As I glanced outside, there was a slight commotion near the side alleyway leading to the street.
I rushed back through the house and peered out the front window in time to see a dark figure flee into the darkness.
It would be futile to try to follow so I checked to make sure the doors and windows were locked before heading back to the den.
Creed was sitting on the couch cradling Happy and petting her with one hand while her other hand was firmly grasping the fireplace poker.
"It's all right—the intruder's gone, but the residents were right—someone is watching. We all have to be vigilant.”
Creed gave a sigh of relief. “I suddenly feel very vulnerable,” she whispered.
“Don’t be,” I grimaced, “I have some protection.” I opened the dining room hutch and took out the Glock I9 pistol and lay it on the coffee table.
“I saw that weapon before,” she shivered, “and it turned out the noise we heard was Happy foraging for scraps in our garbage.”
“That was then then,” I said sombrely, “But the intruder fleeing our porch was all too human.”
That is sobering,” she admitted, “maybe we should call the police.”
“It might be a one-off—let’s wait and see.”
I didn’t tell her, but I wasn’t sure we could even trust the police.