The Walrus - Sammy

The tall, athletic built girl walked her motorcycle down the empty, vacant street and into a dark alley, parking it carefully and quietly. Then she walked to the front of the alley and peered around the corner of the vacant brick building, making sure that no one had followed her. Positive that there was no one, she ran across the street to the left side of a tall white building with peeling paint. Pushing up the visor on her helmet she peered past the faded Help Wanted sign in the front, side window and into a dark and dusty room. Slipping out a cell phone from her jacket pocket, Sammy checked the address that had been texted to her with the subject of Emergency, and made sure that she was in the right place. She placed the phone back into her pocket and zipped it up, then pressed her back to the peeling paint and tiptoed sideways around the corner of the house to the back door. Once she had gotten there, she reached inside her jacket with her right hand, grabbing onto a small object, and held her hand there. Slowly, Sammy reached out to the door handle with her left hand to see if it was unlocked. On first touch, the handle fell down and the door swung open. Sammy placed her left foot on the only step to the inside, and cautiously started to move through the doorway, silently. After getting her whole body indoors, she scooted over and peered around the first doorway and into another dusty, vacant room. Noticing a door that was shut completely, and curious as to what might be in there, Sammy tiptoed her way over. She paused and put her ear up to the door, listening for sounds. "Bonjour, Samyle, nice of you to drop in again." A raspy, heavily accented voice sounded from behind. With helmet still on, Sammy spun around as she recognized the voice. As she did so, she was hit in the stomach with a baseball bat. She fell to her knees, clutching her stomach, without a cry of pain. I should've told someone where I was going... Sammy thought, a little too late. A wheezing laugh came from behind her. "I caught you off guard this time, eh mon cher?" Sammy just sat there, still clutching her stomach, not saying a word. "Silent treatment on moi today, eh Mlle Samyle?" The un-seen stranger knocked the helmet off of Sammy's head and watched as hair spilled down her back. "You grow much hair, pas? You foolish petite fille...someone might cut off the d'or hair." Sammy cringed at the sound of the horrible wheezing laugh as it irrupted from the stranger again. "Il, eh, been Walrus à long," Sammy grunted. "Eh, your French, mon cher, is rusty. You, I'm afraid, have been gone too long," Walrus rasped out. He stepped in front of Sammy and tapped her shoulder with the bat. "You can stand up now mon cher. Unless...you are afraid, pas?" "I'm not afraid of you!" She spat out jumping to her feet, and glared at the head covered with a mask in the shape of a motorcycle helmet. "What happened to the old scar-faced maître?" "Ma parole mon cher! You bring up that so, eh easy. You are not so smart, mon cher, not so smart. The old moi is gone! And you, mon cher, seem to have stayed the same fille muette." "Diable, yeah I'm the same fille muette! The same old ‘dumb' me is the best me! You think that I'd want to change?!" "Mon cher, you changed when vos parents were assassiné, when vous went to l'école de police an' became police, an' when vous went in l'armée an' when vous was blessé in explosion. You, mon cher, are never to be the, eh, same. An' I not sorry...you may be a little, eh, plus intelligents. But, ma, not much!" The Walrus answered gleefully. "Make fun all you want Monsieur Brainy des gateaux! You've yet to actually catch moi!" Sammy growled as she glanced at her helmet, lying on the floor. The wheezing laugh gurgled out of the mask once again, "You continue to amaze me mon cher. Je was hoping that vos vocabulaire might have étendu during vos time in l'armée." "Heh, yeah, like that was going to happen vous Walrus! Or should I say Monsieur Marcus..." To be Continued...