Blue on Blue

Chapter Twenty-Four

Hollowed-out warehouses and graffiti-covered bricks line the landscape as the taxicab cruises into Fallowshill. In the distance, a spot light pans the horizon. The faint rise and fall of an alarm echoes. 

Maggie shakes her head. "Home sweet home," she whispers. 

It's only snowed a couple of inches in the city. Exhaust fumes and tire treads have already turned the snow-covered streets the color of coal. 

Maggie peers out the window at vacant alleyways. The cabbie pulls up to the curb at the corner of Park and Main. The big brick square looks faded and brittle underneath a starless sky. 

Maggie offers him the money from her pocket.

"It's on me," he says waving it away.

"You have to let me give you something. You drove all this way in a storm."

"Alright, alright," he says grasping the dollar bills. "If you insist." 

She holds out her hand to shake his. "I'm Maggie." He slides off his glove and wraps his mammoth hand around hers. There's a cross-shaped scar on the back of it. Maggie tilts her head. "Have we met before?" 

He shrugs. 

She stares at him a second longer, inspecting his features. "There's something about you that's so familiar. Are you from Fallowshill?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?" 

He lets out a laugh, round and full, straight from his belly. "Sure as the hat on my head." His bright eyes crinkle at the tips. He glances out the window at the night sky. "I best be on my way now."

"Oh, of course," Maggie says, shaking herself out of her head. "I don't mean to hold you up." She pushes against the door and steps out of the cab. Why can't I remember? She shuts the door behind her. The itch inside her head grows itchier. Where have I seen him before?

The cabbie rolls down the passenger side window and holds out his arm. "I think you dropped this." 

Maggie pulls the piece of paper from his hand and unfolds it. Her eyes light with recognition. She remembers! Shop & Go. Exit sign. Shop Keeper's Bell. Army jacket. "Wait!" she yells.

The cab is already half way down the street. The service light on the hood goes dark.

She stares at the gospel tract clutched in her hands. She reads the words. "God saves."   

                                                                💙💙💙

"Who is it?" Joe's voice cuts through the static on the intercom speaker.

"It's me."

"Mags?"

"Yeah, Joe. It's Maggie."

The lock clicks. 

Maggie pulls the steel door open. The dim, dank hallway greets her. Its musty smell thickens the air, bringing memories of her childhood flooding in like a tidal wave. Hair-line cracks and scattered holes cover the walls along the stairwell.

Joe fumbles through the locks – two chains and a deadbolt. "Maggie!" His face fills with worry. "What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Everything's fine."

He wraps his weighty arm around her and pulls her into the apartment. He looks past her out into the hallway. "Did Con come with you?"

Maggie shakes her head.