Captives

TWENTY-EIGHT

EXILE

The figure moved slowly in the darkness, treading carefully in the gloom, cursing the lack of light but welcoming the cover the blackness brought.

The only sound was the crunch of footsteps on the gravel of the driveway.

An owl sat in the lower branches of a nearby tree, unable to hunt as efficiently without the presence of the moon. It watched the figure that moved from the house to the car repeatedly.

More than once the figure would stand still beside the car as if listening to the stillness of the night, ears attuned to the slightest sound or movement. Then, satisfied that no one else was around, the dark shape would move stealthily about its business once again.

There was rain in the air, the odd gust of wind bringing with it the first droplets that threatened a storm. Banks of cloud were gathering to the west, blown ever closer by the rising wind. It rattled the branches of the trees and ruffled the feathers of the owl, which finally tired of watching the furtive movement and flew off, its wings beating quietly in the darkness.

The figure looked up, following the bird as it soared high into the night sky in search of prey.

After a moment longer spent listening to the stillness the shape returned to the house.

There were no lights burning within the building; the darkness inside was as total as that of the tenebrous gloom without. But the figure moved more assuredly within the confines of the house, scurrying back and forth from room to room, sometimes pausing in one room, glancing around as if to check that everything was in place.

Finally, the figure ascended the stairs, slowly but purposefully.

The rain began to fall more rapidly now, the wind propelling the droplets like handfuls of cold gravel.

When the figure emerged from the house again it turned its face to the rain as if in welcome, standing there for a moment before turning to another dark shape which accompanied it.

Had the owl still been perched in the tree it would have seen a second figure join the first in the blackness.

The first of them opened the passenger side door and ensured that the second was comfortably seated, then closed the door and locked it from the outside.

That task completed, the first figure walked unhurriedly around to the other side of the car and slid behind the wheel.

The silence was broken by the noise of the engine, which idled for a moment. Then the car was driven away from the front of the house, the wheels crushing gravel as the tyres rolled.

It began to pick up speed along the short driveway then turned into the road.

There was no traffic about at such a late hour. The occupants of the car may as well have been the last two people on earth.

The car disappeared into the night.