Trepidation | Trepidation Trilogy | The Empty World Sequence

One

Rain fell on the carriages, automobiles and hooded pedestrians, along the asphalt streets with range of old and older storefronts. The gutters ran with brackish water, the air temporarily cleansed of smoke and battle scents, here and there uniform boots in groups of six or so stomped quickly through a puddle. Otherwise business went on, the Poles had seen much worse times and retained a cultural memory of past wars in which the country had shrunk at its borders and even disappeared.

The war was young and the larger military forces were to the south and east of this city, Poznan. A German made sports car stopped short, braked easily in the slick street and sidled up to the curb before a post office. The driver's door lifted and a slender male figure in cap and nicely tailored jacket stepped out, well shone boots skipping to the storefront lightly. Looking back to the vehicle its driver nodded to the girl inside.

She was dressed in one of her more modest gowns, long silvery blonde hair pulled up in such a manner that she could look studious. She smiled as the door closed. It was a smile the young man understood, and wondered if they were gaining telepathy. The people about him were staring. It was only the car, the clothes. It couldn't be they recognized him or had any clue what he'd gone through the past year, could it?

The man strode into the post office, he didn't think he would have any packages, they would have been sent to his mother's house long ago, he was really here for other news. He tried to smile, to look for any old familiar face but the grim colorful posters about the walls and the constant channels of video news and postings displayed above quieted his happiness at coming home. Poland was recruiting for its own military and from the look of it preparing to put up a fight. Against which side?

The resolute man at the desk looked up, his last customer gone. "Can I help you?" He asked.

"Been out of town, a long while."

"And you came back?" the man asked incredulously.

The young man nodded quickly. "I had to, this is my home. Can you tell me if there is anything for me here?"

"Name?"

He almost said John. He cursed silently. "Danjel Poznanski."

The clerk smiled as he tapped at his board with stylus. "We do have a package for you, actually, two of them it shows..." he rose from his seat only to turn and collect the packages from the slide in the wall behind as they fell. Neither was very large. "You related to Maria? Old family she had, Poznanskis."

"She was my mother," Danjel said.

"I'm sorry."

Danjel took up the packages. The small box from Los Angeles was from his father. The other was probably from Joy, whatever name she used. "My mother's not dead, I only meant she's not that person anymore."

"Oh. Shame. It would be nice to see her about entertaining troops or something. Beautiful lady. She was in movies."

"Used to be," Danjel muttered as he left.

The rain had grown fierce in his absence and opening the door with the packages was a small struggle. The wind threw the water up into his face, while Claudia sat at her mobile surfing, or whatever she did, oblivious. Danjel threw the packages into the small space behind the seats and started the car again. He loved the car, it was gorgeous. But it was so flashy and here he was going home, how could he explain?

"They told my father," Claudia said in English with Parisian accent.

"You could..." Danjel began.