J. Spelbring: Perfection

“They are on the way.” He extended a hand to the opposite set of stairs. “First day jitters?” he asked as she passed him.

A tentative grin pulled the corners of her mouth. “It shows?”

“Not too bad. You’ll do fine.” He turned and walked next to her. “Where were you assigned?”

Ellyssa wished he would just shut up, or that an opportunity would arise where she could make him. She knew he wouldn’t be any match for her. Her expertise in the martial arts along with her extensive weapons training put regular citizens at a great disadvantage against her. She shrugged and offered him another smile. He seemed pleased.

“I understand. Don’t want to talk about it. Well, I promise you will love working here. The people you meet passing through are very interesting.”

“I’m not sure if my present position will offer such pleasantries.”

He glanced at her coveralls and didn’t say anything else. They continued the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached the restroom, he said, “I have to get back to work. Follow this hall to the end and the office is on the right. You can’t miss it.” He stood there.

“Oh, yes. Thank you. It was very nice to meet you.”

He beamed. “It was nice to meet you, too.” He held out his hand. “My name is Peter.”

She grasped his hand with false enthusiasm.

“Maybe we will run into each other soon?”

“Maybe.” She turned and escaped through the door marked, FEMALES .

Disinfectant hovered in the air of the immaculate restroom. Shining white tile gleamed under the fluorescent lights. Eggshell sinks hung on the right, and beige stalls stood to the left.

Ellyssa moved to the last stall and locked the door behind her. She placed her shoulder bag on the floor and shrugged out of the coveralls. She withdrew a plastic bag with hair accessories and makeup.

The door opened with the soft whisper of the hydraulics. She froze. Shoes clicked on the tile as the person went into the first stall. Picking her bag off the floor, Ellyssa sat on the porcelain seat and waited. After a few minutes, the toilet flushed, and the stranger exited after washing her hands.

She peeked out the door to make sure the bathroom was empty, then went to the mirror to straighten her crumpled white blouse the best she could. Wrinkles still gathered at the bottom, but the collar looked fine.

She twisted her bangs into small braids and pinned them back with two grey barrettes, then applied a soft, rose-colored lipstick and added some length to her eyelashes.

Satisfied with her appearance, she threw everything back into her bag and went to the door. She paused and listened with her ears. Mumblings from hundreds of people whispered. She swung open the bathroom door and made her way to the ticket counter.

A man with black-peppered hair stood behind the glass barrier. Like all workers within the travel industry, he wore a crisp white short-sleeved shirt with a blue cap.

She glanced around. Nobody stood directly next to her, but several patrons sat on benches or milled around nearby. Too many actually, but she chanced it anyway. She lowered her shield just enough to take a quick peek inside the director’s head and saw the notes of some old tune. From what she could tell, he hadn’t been alerted. If she was lucky, maybe none of the normal citizens had been warned. Her father, Dr. Hirch, must have been confident that she would be captured.

Shoulders back, she walked to the counter and handed him the forged papers. He glanced at the credentials, took her false credits, and handed her a ticket with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” she said.

He nodded.

She sat on a wooden bench in the Great Hall with all the other passengers, most wearing the same clothes as she, and waited for the eight o’clock train. It was seven-forty, now. Except for the run-in with the detective, the morning had gone relatively smoothly. Everyone would board in another ten minutes, and she’d be on her way.

Unfortunately, her ability didn’t include precognition.

Men wearing black trench coats and Swastika bands zigzagged among the benches. Some checked people’s papers, while two Gestapo approached the ticket agent and showed him a photo. Fear burst inside Ellyssa’s chest. Her instincts screamed “run”, her head said “sit”. She kept calm and twisted her face into a look of anticipation and curiosity, just like everyone else was doing, as she watched the secret police.

The man behind the counter looked at the picture, then scanned the waiting room. His gaze passed over her more than once before his eyes locked on her. He pointed in her direction. The two men separated and walked on both sides of the benches toward her.

Heart thrumming, muscles bunched to run, it took all of her self-discipline not to burst off the bench like a scared rabbit from the brush. Ellyssa touched her bag in preparation to either escape or to show the faux papers, but the Gestapo passed her section and walked six rows behind her. Relief swept through her as she turned in her seat.

The two Gestapo approached a female in a white lab coat who wore her pale yellow hair in a long finger wave like Ellyssa had before she’d cut it in the park. The wrongly identified female’s eyes widened in shock as the men stood on each side of her. They spoke to her in German, their voices authoritative and harsh. She shook her head, clearly unable to understand them. The shorter one on the left reverted to English. She reached into her attaché case and withdrew blue papers.

The taller of the two snatched the papers out of her hand and shook them in her face. She flinched while her lips moved rapidly. Her voice was high, stressed with frantic tones. As she talked, the shorter one placed his hand under her arm. Given little choice, the woman stood and went with the police as they escorted her down the row. The other secret police met them in the center aisle, and they left with the innocent female.

Ellyssa faced forward and melted into the wooden bench. She couldn’t believe the trained eyes of the Gestapo couldn’t tell the difference in hair color, much less the color of the poor female’s eyes.

A deep, throaty voice emitted from the PA system. “All aboard for St. Louis connecting to Kansas City. Please have your papers and tickets ready.”

Ellyssa jumped up with her bag draped over her shoulder and went to the platform where the conductor stood. She handed him her papers.

Smiling, he punched a hole in the ticket and handed both documents back. “Enjoy your trip.”

Relieved the conductor spoke with a pronounced German inflection, Ellyssa answered, “Thank you. I will.” She glanced over her shoulder, halfway expecting the Gestapo to come storming back in, their mistake discovered.

“You look a little nervous.”

She felt like kicking herself. Since childhood, she’d perfected a mask to display, emotionless and deadpan. But with all the sensations roiling inside her at once—anxiety, fear, excitement—she was wearing them on her sleeve. Of course, she’d never thought she’d be using her skills to flee. She pulled at the hem of her blouse and concentrated on smoothing her demeanor.

“Don’t be,” the conductor continued. “Trains are a wonderful way to travel.” He reached behind her to take papers from another passenger.

“Thank you.” She stepped onto the platform.

The few people who had boarded before her milled down the narrow hall, searching for their compartments. Ellyssa quickly moved to her designated slot before more boarding passengers could crowd the cramped walkway and went inside.

Compared to her sterile room at The Center, the compartment seemed almost homey. The mahogany paneled room held two berths, dressed in ivory satin comforters that matched the lace curtain covering the small window. A thin, silver table, decorated with a menu holder and a small vase of yellow daisies, sat directly under it. Mounted on the wall to the left, a flat-screen television and a radio with two sets of headphones offered entertainment she had never been allowed before.