The Wall

112

An engine. Moses peered around the garbage can. Police. For a long moment, he became invisible. The vehicle drove by.

No white trash around. Another engine.

That. Was. The. Ambulance.

Sandi.

It slowly turned the corner. Moses glanced around. At the window behind him–the one right next to the front door of the house to which his trash can belonged—he caught sight of the nanny. The nanny who had helped him earlier. She was smiling at him. A raised thumb. Moses smiled back.

Sandi was still twenty meters away. Wait one second, he thought. Wait one more.

Still ten meters. Then only eight.

He leaped out from behind the trash can and stood on the street with outstretched arms. The vehicle screeched to a stop in front of him. Moses opened the passenger door and sat down. Breathed deeply. Wanted to hug Sandi.

“You have to get in the back!” she insisted, startling Moses.

“Go,” she urged.

He squeezed between the seats into the back and was surprised to find a completely gutted space back there. There was nothing. A metal floor. Bare.

“Get down! We’re leaving.”