The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book
Page 8
After some sober reflection Felicity punched 112, the emergency number, reported their find and would someone please come and pick him up. Sorry Madame but we do not deal here with homeless people. You must call social services…. Yes, of course we will send someone right away, the only person at the local social service office assured her, evidently put out by the call. The huffy woman had been relaxing in the sun when the annoying foreigner disturbed her. Why couldn’t they just leave the homeless alone, particularly during the summer when the outdoors would do them so much good?
Yes, he does look to be in poor health, the mannered social worker exclaimed. You should not have waited. Such things must be reported immediately. Do you expect me to believe you were threatened, by local residents no less? I am not a fool and you, my friends, are in big trouble…. Hello, Hello, merde, my cell is not working. You will not let me use your telephone she huffed, quite convinced that they would not, even though Felicity had actually picked up the receiver and offered it to the by now quite agitated government official. I shall be back, she screamed, propelling her small, bulbous frame out the door and into her tiny subcompact.
Oliver and Felicity, now very uncertain as to their future, watched as the little car spun its wheels in the dirt before finally spurting down the long driveway. They followed with much dismay the red insect like vehicle until it disappeared at the horizon for the short dash to the roadway. Then the blare of a semi trailer air horn filled the hot late afternoon air followed by screeching tires and metal crashing into metal. They ran to Felicity’s car and quickly drove to where the farm’s road gave onto the paved public thoroughfare. The truck was so large its bumper had passed right over the little red car leaving it perfectly in tact only to be crushed like a beer can under its massive front wheels. The flattened remains finally came to rest under the cab’s rearmost wheels. The police concluded that the little red vehicle had attempted an unfortunately timed U-turn and closed the case. For Oliver and Felicity, their immediate pickle had suddenly been resolved as a greasy smudge on a French road. They would have more time to deliberate on this vexing problem.
Chapter VI
Small jewelled cross