The Great Cleanup

Anna started to cough, growing weak. Her consciousness was leaving her. She still kept the girl's head in her lap, but started to slide down to the floor herself, saying a silent farewell to her husband and children. But she did not end up on the floor. Suddenly someone swooped her up and put her firmly onto the bench again. Anna saw a face before her eyes.

At first she thought that it was a hallucination, that she was now out completely, as there was just one huge eye on the man's face. Yet her lingering senses told her that the man now stooping over her was wearing a protective mask, designed to break through the smoke. To rescue people, to get those trapped by the fire out.

Her saviour bowed closer to Anna, nearly touching her face with his mask, then moved his head close to her gown-covered breast. He appeared to be inspecting the fire victim. It seemed to Anna that he was trying to work out whether she is alive, whether she needs to be carried out of the smoke-filled building. Pulling the last remains of her strength together, she shook her head, showing herself not dead yet, and at the same time pointed at the girl lying nearby.

The masked man nodded in understanding and lifted Anna in his arms. The junkie girl's head slid off her lap and hit the bench with a loud thump. The girl did not come to her senses, and the saviour did not notice her at all. He was quickly carrying Anna away, somewhere, into the smoke.

Highway star

She was quite exhausted, yet conscious. She heard some kind of voices, shouting, door slamming, then a strange hiss. And she could only see smoke. A thick smoke, hiding everything else.

For a short time the masked man strayed about the corridors. Then, after yet another turn, he bent down a bit and brought his rescue out from the smoke-filled building, right through a broken window. Upon feeling fresh air, Anna started to catch her breath, coughing, tears running from her smoke-irritated eyes. Because of the tears, everything around her was fuzzy. Anna still could not discern anything around herself, so she shut her eyes, trying to quiet them down and to regain her breath, to gather enough strength for standing up on her own.

Yet when Anna recovered her senses completely, it turned out that her saviour was no longer carrying her in his arms. Instead, she was sitting in front of him on a motorcycle, which started down the street at a crazy speed, weaving its way among the cars. “He is probably taking me to hospital,” she thought. “To the family doctor? Or the ophthalmologist? Hopefully not to the gynaecologist!”

Anna threw back her head to see the face of her saviour and to tell him that she did not need any doctors at all, that she was all right and it'd be better to just bring her home, to the unfinished great cleanup and coffee.

She did see his face, and she was abashed. Now the man had no mask on. She was amazed at the abyss of his blue eyes. It seemed that she could dive into them and resurface at some sultry Copacabana beach.

She also noticed how this smoothly shaved face was handsome like crazy. His proud curved nose inspired her, and the mane of light curly hair was pure rapture. She definitely saw this man before. A long, long time ago…

When Anna was in junior high school, her entire room was plastered in rock star posters. Among them was a calendar, sporting a huge photo of a motorcyclist with the very same blue eyes, proud curved nose and curly light hair waving in the breeze…

Anna ended up so carried away looking at her saviour that she forgot what she wanted to tell him. Noticing her gaze, he smiled, flashing level, perfectly matched snow-white teeth:

“So you've come round? Sorry that I had to smoke things up so much. But I wouldn't be able to get you out otherwise, way too many cops out there. And I couldn't even wait. I saw Borscht's car when I was coming up to the cop-shop. His men might have gotten to you first…”

Anna had no idea what her saviour was talking about, yet she still could not take her gaze off him. Seeing strain in her eyes, the tamer of the bike hastened to reassure her:

“My name is Herman. Don't worry, our mutual friend has sent me. He found out the cops grabbed you, so he asked me to help out. Very soon you will be completely safe.”

An answer like that, of course, ended up perplexing Anna even more. Which friend could have sent for her? Why would she need rescue from the police? It appeared that she was, actually, completely safe right there…

Yet Anna did not ask Herman anything. Her neck started to hurt and get numb, so she turned her head back to its natural position, looking at the road right before her and immediately becoming horrified. She did like the racer on the photo, but she never rode an actual motorcycle before. When she was not yet married, she refused guys who offered her rides. This contraption, normally driven by reckless youngsters who would periodically break their arms and legs, ending up walking around on crutches or even staying in bed in plaster casts for quite some time, never seemed reliable to her. So Anna never got further than some photo shoots in the saddle of a stationary motorbike. But now…

They have now left the normal city streets and were racing down a highway at an unbelievable speed, overtaking cars with ease. Anna kept closing her eyes tight, expecting the motorcycle to crash into a truck or van: “Now… no, right now!” Yet by some miracle she and Herman would slip through tiny openings between cars, dodging little bumpers and huge bumpers, trailers, flatbeds. The cars that they left behind kept beeping and flashing their lights, but her saviour did not mind this at all, he just raced and raced the motorcycle forward.

Anna turned her head again to say something to Herman after all, but he anticipated her question again:

“I know you love the bikes. I would never trust anyone with my steel horse, but you're fine. So, all right, here you are!”

He took her left palm, placing it on the left handle of the bar. Then he put her right palm on the right handle. And the next moment he withdrew his own hands from the handle-bar, lightly hugging Anna's waist:

“You're on your own now, enjoy!”

Anna was horrified even more. The hard shiny road was dashing at her. Nearby cars still remained behind swiftly. The motor of the bike was roaring. The wind kept hitting at her face, leaving her eyes in tears. Her breath kept running away after it. It was all awful… awfully gratifying! The old song, “Highway Star”, seemed to play in her ears.

Anna used to listen to that song pretty often, as she looked at the pictures of Deep Purple and of that motorcyclist on her wall. Ah, how she used to dream, imagining herself blazing along the highway with him!

Later, when she moved out of her parents' home, rock music fell by the wayside. But now it was certainly the “Highway Star” ringing in her ears, roaring, tearing at the muscle of her very heart. How could she forget there was a song like this? Why did she not know that, along with it, one could really break the speed of sound?

Dizzy with the swift pace, Anna drove on for some time before finally noticing that cars ceased to beep and flash their lights. A few side glances revealed that the drivers' wide-eyed gazes were glued to her. “Probably there are few girls who can drive a motorcycle like I do,” she thought, before lowering her eyes and seeing the true reason for her current highway stardom.

The flaps of her dressing-gown were fluttering in the powerful headwind, revealing her thighs all the way to the well-worn yellow panties. The blue gown came undone at the breast, too, proudly showing off the unwieldy beige bra, intended strictly for home wearing only, to all and sundry. The belt stayed tied, the only reason preventing the fluffy garment from leaving its wearer entirely.

Without thinking twice, Anna abandoned the handle-bar, trying to cover up. Immediately she heard her saviour's loud voice in her ear:

“I was told you were very cool, but I had no idea! Driving at such speed hands-off! I never even tried this myself!”

She kept fighting the buttons of her gown, and the man did not even think of interfering with her “driving”. Unbridled, free as a mustang, the motorbike stayed in the straight on its own will, not straying to the left or right. For some time, the drivers around them continued to watch Anna's battle with her garment intensely. Then, suddenly, they all fell behind.

Finally she managed to cover her breast, fixing the top of her gown with the junkie's pin that came in very handy now. Anna sighed with relief and glanced forward. Now she realized the bike kept going, no hand guiding it. She had, however, no time to realize how scary this was, as she noticed a bend in front. All cars lowered their speed before it, but the motorcycle kept going just as fast as before. Like a bird, it was flying right to this bend, into the concrete wall dividing the road. The road marking was smoothly turning to the right; the motorcycle crossed it, continuing on its perfectly straight way.

Anna was out of ideas. However, her saviour did watch the road, and finally he appeared to lose his nerve. Herman put his hands down onto the handle-bar again, lowered the speed and, turning elegantly to the right, repeated:

“You are very cool!”

Adding:

“Very cool indeed!”

Nobody ever spoke to her like that before. She was always a submissive daughter, wife, a girl or woman next to a strong man. Anna just could not do without one, as when someone was rude or violent towards her, she could never protect herself, falling into an utter stupor.

First, her father was the strong man. In kindergarten, she used to tell rough boys off with “I'm telling Daddy!” and it worked, they did leave her alone. In school, she had to involve her father for real. She was already in high school by the time when, as she walked home, a lad from the next block approached her. Placing a hand on her considerably grown breast, he nodded approvingly: “Wow! This will do!” Anna was struck, not knowing how to respond or behave. As the lad chuckled and buzzed off, she just cried softly. But then she came home and told her father everything. Dad proceeded to visit the lad's parents immediately, and after a brief instructive conversation, to break the arm of the troublemaker's father. It was not publicly known what transpired between father and son, but since that time, boys in the neighbourhood and the school stayed well away from Anna. Even the ones she actually liked.

In college she kept this story hidden, to avoid scaring suitors away. Finally one of them, a fair semblance of a Siberian bear, well over six feet tall and nearly two hundred pounds, became her husband and the new strong man always near her. Yes, Anna was used to being weak. Yet how nice it really was to hear: “You are so cool!”

The motorcycle calmly followed the bend, continuing on the straight after it. Anna breathed deeply in relief and prepared, finally, to have a talk with Herman, but now she was distracted by a long black limousine appearing on the left. Anna looked over it with curious admiration, but not lust. She would never exchange the motorbike, with Herman, for the expensive fancy car. At least that was her feeling for the moment.

She noticed the side window at the back of the limousine rolling down. A swarthy male face appeared behind the window. The man intently, though somehow lazily, gazed at the motorcycle, and Herman, and Anna. Then the swarthy man turned away, saying something to someone in the car; in a moment, binoculars appeared at his eyes.

Anna realized the limousine's passenger was looking, not at the motorbike, nor at Herman, but at herself, and specifically at her D-cups. She remembered her plain beige home bra and lowered her eyes to check if the dressing-gown has burst open again. But no, this time, she was well clothed; thanks to the gold pin and the well tied belt, the buttons held. Her legs were, of course, exposed by the headwind, but within reasonable decency.

Anna glanced at the swarthy passenger of the limousine again. He appeared to nod contentedly to himself, saying something to someone inside the car again. The limousine pushed right, closer to the motorcycle. The swarthy man gestured to Herman, demanding that he turn to stop at the edge of the road. Herman responded with a one finger salute. Anna was not sure what was going on, but trusted her saviour completely. She suspected he knew what he was doing when he boldly fobbed the other man off.

The swarthy passenger shook his head and said something into the car again. The window closed slowly, and the limousine fell behind.

Anna was glad that they were left alone so she could finally tell Herman everything she wanted to tell him. But in a few seconds another car, shorter and more powerful, appeared in place of the limousine. Herman slowed down so the car would fall forward, but their new road mate dropped his speed as well. Anna's saviour sped up, but so did the car, trying to keep level with the motorcycle.

The next moment, another “mate” showed up on their right. As if by agreement, the two started to move closer together, squeezing the motorcycle in between. When they were just an arm's length away on each side, they started turning in unison towards the edge of the road, slowing down gradually. Anna realized they were trying to stop the motorcycle. She did not know if stopping would actually be bad, but she definitely had no desire for a conversation with road bullies.

Herman, too, understood what the pincering cars wanted. So he revved up the motorcycle, leaving the pursuers behind – but not for long. The powerful cars swiftly caught up, now moving in straight lines by the sides of the motorcycle, not coming closer again. Anna realized that such an escort would not be the end of it, something else had to happen. And she was not mistaken. One of the cars moved aside a bit, letting a small lorry come through, and this lorry immediately took up the lane in front of the motorcycle.

Anna thought that the motorcycle probably needed to drop its speed, falling back from the vehicles surrounding it. Glancing to the right, the left, forward, she didn't understand why Herman would not slow down. Finally she looked at the rear view mirror, realizing the gravity of their situation: a huge dump truck was speeding a few yards behind them. The motorcycle was boxed in!

Raising her head to look forward again, Anna saw the lorry's rear sideboard open up. A drawbridge descended from the bed of the lorry, its tip touching the hard surface of the road. As the metal hit rough spots, whirls of white and yellow sparks rushed out from it.

The driver of the right-hand car rolled down his window and waved for Herman to get on the drawbridge and onto the bed. Yet the motorcycle would not come closer to the lorry. The waving got more insistent, but Herman just responded with his trademark one finger salute again. Next, the passenger of the left-hand car waved politely – this time with the business end of a gun.

Herman and Anna turned their heads quickly, looking in all directions with desperation. Something had to be done. The cars surrounding them were so close that there was absolutely no way to slip between them. And yet Herman did not hasten to move onto the lorry. Anna realized he was looking for a way out. Looking, and yet not finding one.

Suddenly the motorcycle swayed. Herman stabilized it with a light movement of the bar. A look at the rear view mirror showed Anna that the dump truck was pushing them. Its driver, noticing that the motorcycle would not obey, decided to push it into the lorry's bed – or to crush it.

Anna turned her head back to look at Herman. He just chuckled:

“Hold on tight to the handles, Mathilda!”

Why Mathilda? Anna thought. Perhaps that's what people say in situations like that, “Hold on tight to the handles, Mathilda”? She thought of asking Herman for a bit of clarification, but he suddenly pinned her to the iron steed with his body, twisting the accelerator handle abruptly. The motorcycle started off like a rocket, flew over the drawbridge and into the bed of the lorry, but did not stop there. Herman pulled up the handles strongly and, swaying his own powerful, springing body up and down, raised the obedient iron steed into the air. As if holding its “hooves” up, the steed flew right over the front board of the bed, rolled the rear wheel on the lorry's cabin, and broke away into empty space.

This was real proper flight, and neither an airplane nor a roller-coaster would stand any comparison. It took Anna's breath away, and she saw everything in slow motion. Here was the bed of the truck under them, then the cabin, and then the road approaching. Very slowly.

Anna noticed not just the blackness of the asphalt road surface, but even single gravel fragments joined by the bitumen. They were closer and closer. Then came the impact. Anna would have hit her head on the fuel tank or handle bar, but instead her face ended up softly meeting Herman's hand, which was placed in the right place at the right time.

The bike landed on the asphalt with both wheels at once. It was pulled to the side, but Anna's saviour reacted immediately, stabilizing it easily. They were speeding on an empty highway again. Now their speed was so immense that cars moving in the same direction appeared and disappeared momentarily, as if they were oncoming. Yet Anna had nearly no fear anymore, taking a full, free breath in and out. Then she turned to express her admiration to Herman. He had his own reading of the look on her face, breathing into her ear:

“Not much left now. We just need to make it to the crossroads!”

Their pursuers had to know that their mark could slip away soon. In less than a minute the same two powerful cars caught up with the motorcycle and drove by its sides again. Windows rolled down. Another wave from the right-hand car invited the riders to turn onto the side of the road and stop. Herman shook his head in refusal. Then the barrel of a gun, which Anna already saw before, appeared from the window of the left-hand car. Noticing it, Anna's saviour pushed her down to the motorcycle again. She understood that he was covering her with his powerful body.

Glancing from under Herman's hand, Anna noticed the barrel shake; a puff of smoke emerged, dispersing quickly. Something white shot across the air before their eyes, hitting neither Anna nor Herman. But it did appear to hit something else, entirely unplanned by the assailants. Turning her head to the right, Anna saw the driver of the car on that side shake a fist, obviously not directed at the riders of the bike. She realized that the marksman from the first car has hit something inside the second. Though, judging by the action of the latter's driver, his life was not in danger.

The second shot from the left-hand car was more successful. Anna saw a small white dart pierce into Herman's arm. He quickly pulled it out and threw it behind his back, explaining into Anna's ear:

“This is probably a narcotic. Sadly, some of it did get into me. I am likely to fall asleep soon, and then you will need to take over again. But I know you can do it. You are so cool!”

These words were very pleasant to hear, but Anna had no idea how she would “take over”, transporting not just her own body, but also that of Herman's: taming the iron mustang was obviously beyond her ability. She realized she would fail, and tears spread over her cheeks.

Seeing that they hit Herman, those in the left car stopped shooting and withdrew their gun. The assailants probably decided to just keep waiting for the narcotic to work and for Anna's saviour, falling asleep gradually, to lower his speed and stop.

But they underestimated Herman's willpower. Yes, the motorcycle swayed. Yes, turning her head back, Anna saw Herman's eyes half-closed. But only half-closed, not closed. The motorcycle was going on, not in a very straight line, but still forward, definitely not stopping. Herman kept a steadfast fight against the nightmarish sleep descending upon him.

Things were apparently much worse in the right-hand car. It looked like the first dart has hit the driver. Either he did not get it out as quickly as Herman did, or he was just weaker physically and morally; after a few erratic zigzags, the right-hand car suddenly shifted left. Herman barely had the time to swing around the car going straight at him.

Turning to look back, Anna saw the horrendous aftermath. The right-hand car hit the left-hand one. Together, they slammed into the concrete crash barrier, were flung up, turned around in mid-air and, crashing onto the road, rolled as one, then disappeared in a powerful flash of fire and cloud of smoke.

Anna gazed at Herman in excitement. He smiled back at her, struggling to keep his eyes open:

“Well, we broke away,” then he nodded forward and to the right, “And this is our crossroads!”

Anna did not ask what crossroads it was. She just kept praying that Herman would not fall asleep before the motorcycle stopped somewhere. She did not want to hit some hurdle and explode like the cars behind them.

Herman lowered the speed. Anna looked around the highway, worried, but realized that her saviour did it simply in order to turn at the crossroads, bringing them onto a smaller road.

Spending a short time on it, they turned onto yet another road, stretching through a forest. Now the motorcycle started wobbling significantly. Anna kept wrenching her neck to check on Herman's state. Now the eyes of her saviour would shut completely from time to time, though they opened up again immediately. His gaze seemed empty, senseless, so Anna kept expecting to hit that birch tree, that poplar, that asp. Yet Herman would not give up, forcing his eyes open yet again and driving on and on.

They passed a few houses with high fences and reached some kind of gate. Herman stopped the motorcycle and honked. Anna realized that they have finally reached their destination, so she could get off the bike and have some proper conversation to explain things.

The gate swung open. Herman slowly drove in, then stopped and shut down the motorcycle next to a hefty double-storey house. Putting out the pillion to keep the bike stable, he helped Anna down.

As soon as her legs felt firm ground under them, Anna teetered. She would undoubtedly fall if not for an impressive gentleman wearing a dress coat with a bow-tie, who held her elbow just at the right time. Anna would place his age at around fifty. He was lean, of medium height. His head sported a stiff short row of brown hair. He had a narrow face and intent, cold grey eyes. His clothing was not just expensive, it was also refined. He smelled of smart cologne, too.

Making sure that Anna found her balance and was standing firmly on her own two feet, the gentleman with the bow-tie took a few steps away from her and, looking all over his new guest, pronounced in admiration:

“So that's what you're like, on the real!”

Milk, chocolate, and champagne

Anna liked this conversation starter. She always melted at compliments. Her father only rarely spoiled her with tender words, but her then-future husband won her over, perhaps, by showering her with “beauties”, “lovelies” and even “Cleopatras”. When they met, Anna was indeed a looker: slender, with a small neat nose, a straight forelock, little dimples on her cheeks, cute pouting lips. These days, after giving birth to Serge and Anastasia, she gained some weight. Recently she was thinking about taking care of herself and her figure. After all, sports was never alien to her. In college, she did some fencing and even participated in competitions, showing off her reflexes and her body. It was obviously too late to return to proper sports, but she really could spend some time in the nearest gym a few times a week, while the kids were at school. She just needed to talk to her ever-calculating husband, so he would approve the spending for getting his wife into shape.

While Anne was processing the compliment, the gentleman with the bow-tie nodded respectfully:

“I am always glad to help your father out!”

She could only shrug, lifting up her hands:

“But…” for her father died three years ago. The heart attack struck him right at his workplace, full of odours of medicine.

Anna was interrupted by an odd noise behind her. She looked back to see that Herman was its source. Her saviour apparently relaxed and finally fell asleep while standing, then collapsed onto the ground. Anna nearly dashed towards him, but the gentleman with the bow-tie stopped her by a gesture: