The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

The Hunt for Silvers in October - 10/23/04

Saturday, October 23, 2004

Saturday.... funny how the weekend doesn't matter so much when you're hanging around all the time. Makes me almost miss that lizard Ryloff and the other undesirables at the U.S. Divide. They at least added a little variety to my routine. A little spice, if you will. And this after only five days as part of the great unworking and unwashed American minority. 

I do genuinely miss people like Carrie, who I'll probably not see again. And Deb, even. Dale, I bet I'll cross his path sooner or later. If not for help puzzling out these mysteries, at least for a cold.... ah... I keep doing this to myself. 

Anyway. Our missions to track down a silver have, so far, proved woefully inadequate. Rence and I can talk a good game, but when it comes to action—we haven't yet gotten our bearings on the street level.

The plan was simple, at first. We'd find an area with a large concentration of people, improving our odds as best we could of running into a silver. Once we found that silver, we'd corner him or her (it) and—y’know— parley. 

Of course, we went straight to the metro. We figured we'd hang around Metro Center. The, well, center of the metro system. Always loads of travelers coming and going, dispersing along all branches of the transportation nervous system. 

The silvers would ride the metro same as anyone else, right? Maybe they even preferred to travel that way, since the purples wouldn't dare attack them in a crowd. I couldn't recall offhand seeing a silver in my metro wanderings, but I haven't really had my gift (blight) all that long, have I? What's it been, less than a month? And I don't even take the metro to work. Er... when I had work. 

So last night, Rence and I lounged on the Shady Grove-bound red line platform for an hour before catching a glimpse of a silver. 

It showed up on the far end of the platform, a tall African-American man in a business suit, coming down the escalator. We started toward him, weaving through the thick crowd. And then the metro train pulled into the station, and the crowd got riled up, pushing us in the wrong directions. Helplessly I saw the silver board the train car nearest him— the last car. I glanced at Rence and we headed through the nearest train door.

At the next stop, Farragut North, which was equally crowded, we got out and pressed through people to make as much progress we could toward the silver's car in the few seconds we had. It wasn't enough, though, and we had to duck into the train car nearest us, still not the right car. Dupont, we made it to the next-to-last car. I tried to peer through a window at the end that looked into the silver's car, but I couldn't see him. At Woodley, we made it into his car and he was gone. 

Frustrated, we returned to Metro Center. We couldn't just each take an end of the Shady Grove platform, because Rence wouldn't know a silver if it slapped him on the ass. It's not like I could even call him on the cell when I spotted one... no signal underground. We resolved to wait right in the very middle. More time passed. I didn't bother looking at my watch this time, because I knew I'd just be slowing time. Time, time, time. 

Finally, I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye, the unmistakable glint of a silver aura. There it was. A white guy in a fleece vest, with a bent back. On the other side of the tracks, on the Glenmont platform. Dammit! 

We walked as fast as we could without running, to the escalator that would take us down a level, where we could cross and take the one up to the Glenmont side. While we were on the lower level, I heard the train pull up. Of course.

We went back to my apartment after that, too irritated to carry on. But today brought new ideas and possibilities. Where else were there tons of people packed in D.C.? Why, that'd be the Mall! Not a shopping center, but the home of the Smithsonian. Where we’d fled from Rafael. Sure, most of the people would be tourists, but mightn't there be some silver tourists? Got to tell the silvers back home in Iowa that you visited the Hall of Mammals, right?

No. No, that didn't work either. We saw one here and there, but we'd always lose sight of them. I don't believe that we're that incompetent. I'm pretty sure that the silvers saw me each time and intentionally avoided me. 

Why? Wherefore this shyness? The one posing as "Dr. Harrigan" in the hospital came right up and talked to me, didn't she? Hell, she made it sound like they still wanted my help. And the raiders in Rockville didn't hesitate to shove me up against the wall. But now, the distance treatment. It couldn't be fear. I'm sure that the knife—the dagger, the purple-sticker—wouldn't work very well on them. It came from them. So they can't be scared of me.

Well, here I am, silvers! Do I need to wave a white flag in the air next time I see one of you? You win. Though I won’t let you turn me into another Fade Killer, I have no choice but to help you... I need you on my side. Or at least to tell me what in the “Archfiend’s” name this is all about. 

Too busy preventing the Apocalypse to chat? Come on. We can text message or something. Cut the funny stuff before someone gets hurt. 

posted by Mark Huntley @ 11:37 PM

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