Like Flicking a Pin off the Grenade

She didn't talk to Adam the next few days. Adam went alone the bar, which had quickly been taken over by a lanky man with a nose piercing, presumably Mr Brown's son. He was soft spoken and helpless in controlling the regulars. As a result, the bar quickly fell into ruin. Tables were overturned, bottles were smashed, chairs thrown around, and after a while Mr Brown's son didn't bother to clean up afterwards.

And yet, two things remained constant in this sea of chaos - the regulars continued fighting and Adam continued drinking. On the second day without Colette Adam broke his record, easy, by drinking nine bottles in a row. He was stranded at the apartment in the morning with a pounding headache as a result, one of the few times he hadn't gone out. When Colette came home from school, she stomped off the other room without a second glance at the man slumped on the sofa like a dead whale.

For her part, Colette was going through a period of mental turmoil. No one had seemed to care about Mr Brown's absence, and had simply continued their meaningless rituals at the bar. It both irked her and drained all the strength of her. Her friends had given her weird looks when she had complained about police brutality, and had immediately changed the topic. Once, on the way home from school, Colette took a detour on impulse and ended up in front of the police station with a barely tangible notion to protest.

But then she had seen a familiar figure stroll out of the police station. The blond man and his horrible smile. She quickly ducked out of sight and marched furiously in the opposite direction, red faced and angry with herself. What especially made her want to dash her head against the wall was not only the fact that everyone was absolutely apathetic, but she was starting to be as cold as the rest of them, as well. Even worse, she was beginning to think Mr Brown was a spy. The police were just doing their job, the less valiant part of her mind always said. The police were the police and the citizens were the citizens. That thought formed a disturbingly neat little package in her head, and she hated that thought. She didn't even know why she hated it. She was so confused.

On the fourth day of their silence, Adam finally spoke to her. It was already evening and he went to the other room, where she was lying on her bed.

'You coming?' he said.

She glared at him, then shifted her face back to the ceiling.

'I'd like you to come.'

'Why? Because you're lonely?'

Adam looked away. 'I need some fodder. The regulars are getting rowdy. You can tame them.' He looked back. 'Come on.'

'I want to stay here.'

'And lie around moping?'

'That's what you do everyday.'

'You're too young for that,' Adam sighed. He stood in the doorway uncertainly for a while. 'You're quite female.'

'What?'

'You fit the stereotype.'

She stared at him, slouched and leaning against the wall. Then - she 

couldn't help herself - she smirked. Widening her muscles like that felt like flicking the pin off a grenade.

'Are you happy now?' he asked. 'Can we go?'

Colette wasn't prepared to stay chained her bed for the rest of her life, despite what she tried to think. So she brushed aside her hair and leapt off her prison. 'Fine. But I'm not drinking. You got that?'

'Suit yourself.'

'And you'd better not drink either.'

'Not too much, okay.'

'And you'd better help me calm them down. They're quite nice deep down, but they can be jerks sometimes, you know?'

'Okay.'

'You'd better be serious!'

As predicted, the lanky new bartender fell head over heels for her, and was more than willing to put up a show of shouting at the regulars to establish his dominance. Time rolled on. Life at the bar grew slightly less chaotic. Colette asked the lanky man how he felt about Mr Brown, but he assured her in staccato tones not to worry about it.

'I went to Sarah's today,' she said to Adam on their second visit since the arrest.

'She has a television, since she was rich and everything, and I saw the news, and guess what I saw?'

'What.'

'They were saying Russia launched a man into space,' she paused, disappointed at his lack of reaction. 'I mean, they sent one of their guys into space! Space! Outside Earth!'

'And how does that benefit mankind?'

'Well, I...I dunno, but I'm sure the government's planning to do something in space! I mean, we can have space hotels, or, or, live in other planets!'

'Still doesn't benefit mankind.'

'You're doing this on purpose aren't you?' she said, punching him.

'Figure it out.'

Reeves detached himself from the mess at the centre and stumbled over to them. He was already halfway into his fifth glass. 'Colette, you're an angel,' he crooned. 'You light the place up like it's bloody Christmas.'

'Thanks,' she beamed.

'I've got a present for you, Colette. I left it at home, but - but - ' he hiccuped. 'I'll bring it tomorrow, so prepare yourself, it's gonna knock your socks off, honest.'

'Thanks, but I'm sorry, I won't be coming tomorrow.'

'You aren't?' Reeves and Adam said at the same time.

'Sorry,' she said, turning to Adam. 'Michelle invited me to her house, and it's kind of a big deal at school since she's so popular and everything so...I hope you don't mind...'

In reply, Adam slurped up the last bit of alcohol in the bottle before speaking. 'Do you what you want.'

'Thanks.'

'You don't need to ask my approval. you know,' he stood up. 'You're already a rebellious teenage girl.'

He strode off, on the prowl for his third bottle. Colette watched him go with a slight smile.

'Oh, come on,' Reeves groaned. 'I had a present.'

'I'll come the day after that, promise.'

It was a Sunday, two weeks after Mr Brown's arrest, and Colette was doing her best to forget that by reading the dusty TIME magazine she had borrowed from Sarah's house. Lately news of the flight of Yuri Gagarin had been cropping up all over America, accompanied by tales and rumours of deep space explorers and colonisation on the moon. There was even section on a 'space race' of sorts, and the fact that America was gearing up a shuttle of its own, ready to do battle with the Soviets. She was digging every moment of it.

Her reverie was interrupted by a heavy footstep pounding on the floor. 

She looked up to see Adam there.

'Hi,' she waved the magazine. 'You're back early. Did you read this yet...'

She faltered. Adam was standing as straight as a rod, and his baggy eyes had miraculously snapped into focus. She had never seen him this alert.

'We have to go.' he said.

'What?'

He darted forwards and grabbed her arm with frightening suddenness. 

'I'm giving you five minutes. Pack your things.'

Then he was out of the room, and Colette was left on the bed trying to comprehend the speed of it all. She walked out, and saw Adam stuff everything he owned - which consisted of a toothbrush, a pen and sketchbook, and an empty bottle - into a small backpack. He zipped it up and looked at her. 'What are you doing?' he said in a voice eerily close to a shout. 'Pack your things.'

'What's going on?'

'I'll explain later. Pack. Now.'

Scared, she retreated back into the other room, and gazed at her bed. Automatically, she began gathering up all her schoolbooks, and after a moment's pause, scooped up the TIME magazine. She still had to return it to Sarah, if she still could.

Adam was loitering at the doorway, gripping the straps of his backpack, watching her move around.

'What about clothes?' she said, after she had glimpsed the cramped black space of her school bag.

'Leave it. Are you done?'

'I-I think so...'

'Let's go.'

He opened the door, waited for her, and slammed it shut. He glided down the steps. 'Hurry up.'

'What's going on?" she cried. 'Tell me!'

'Later.'

'Where are we going?'

'I'll tell you later.'

Once they were out of the street, Adam slowed down to a crawl, looking down. Colette followed uncertainly.

'Can you at least tell me - '

Adam flew to the side. One moment he was in front of her, and then he was gone, lost among the throngs of people heading home. She stared at the spot where he had disappeared in pure bewilderment.

'Excuse me, mam.'

She turned, feeling a line of chill on her back. The blond policeman was standing in front of her, as still as a statue.

'Excuse me, mam,' the policeman grinned, 'Have you seen your father?'

 

'You mean A-adam?' she stuttered out, starting back from the force that radiated from his paradoxically quiet grin.

'Adam Jones, yes, I believe that is correct. Do you know where he is?'

Colette replied on instinct. 'No.'

The policeman studied her intently, raking his bright blue eyes over her face. 'I hope you aren't lying to me, mam.'

'N-no.'

'You were that girl from earlier, weren't you? The one who came to the defense of poor Mr Brown.'

'Yes...'

'I see.' the policeman said. 'Do you happen to know my name, mam?'

'Er - '

'I don't have one,' the policeman said. 'I just call myself Davis, but I'd always wondered what my real name was. I would have asked my mother, but she hanged herself. A terrible tragedy, that was. So I don't know what she named me. I don't know what particular word she attached to my being. I will never know why she called me her son. I will never know why I was born.'

He cocked his head. 'In fact, I have no idea what I'm doing here, too. So you see, mam, the perils of not knowing one's name.'

'It sounds awful,' Colette agreed, only half-certain she was humoring him.

'Terribly sorry about my outburst earlier, by the way. I can be quite irresponsible at times.'

'It's okay,' Colette lied.

'You don't need to worry about me, mam. Just a police officer doing his job. You're free to continue your daily activities as you wish, however, if you do see your father, would you call the police?'

'Why? What has he done?'

'He is a spy sent over from the Soviets, mam.'

She stared at him.

'You mean you didn't know?'

'You're lying.'

'I'm a policeman, mam. I don't lie.'

You're lying,' she said again. The possibility that a spy had been living with her for almost fifteen years was completely ridiculous, but even as she thought that, she recalled how little she really knew him.

'I'm afraid so, mam. So if you see him...'

She couldn't bear his grin any longer, and turned away. She began walking. She needed to be alone, to process this, to see if she wanted to believe it.

Fingers grasped her arm. She whirled round to see his smile at her nose.

'I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me, mam.'

'What? You said - '

'Terribly sorry about the lying. I can be quite irresponsible sometimes. Now, mam, just come with me...'

'No - ' she gasped, sickened by the sight of his teeth.

'You have a right to remain silent,' he said. 'Anything you say can and will be used against you - '

A shape came hurtling at him, and the next thing she saw was two figures struggling on the ground. Then Adam leapt up and was pushing her along, shouting at her to run.

'Stop,' said the blond policeman calling himself Davis.

Then his voice was gone and Colette found herself  being barreled down a series of alleyways and streets, helpless to do anything but get borne along. And all the while she was thinking of Mr Brown, of how angry and desperate his Communist face looked when the car door closed in on him, and thinking of how so very, extremely confused she was.