Wake-up Call

Wake-up Call

Wiggling her arm free of the duvet, Clare reached out and pulled Colin’s vacant pillow over her head. The noise stopped. Unconsciously tensed muscles began to relax. The tinny voice began again, too loud to ignore too quiet to quite hear.

"GReeegh!" Hugging the pillow against her head she swore, trying to bury herself in the bed. It stopped again and she huffed. But a cold wet nose prodded the back of her hand still clutching Colin’s pillow. 

"Shit" she said. Greta hearing her voice leapt on the bed and began to dig at the covers with both her paws and nose.
"I'm dreaming! Not awake yet Greta! EEEeeee!" Pulling the pillow off of her face she glared at the dog now standing on her chest, attempting to make eye contact by staring down her nose, cross-eyed, inches from Clare's face.

"Go away!" A determined paw snapped out and smacked Clare's collarbone.
"Greta!" Perpetually jealous, Beatrix joined in. Both dogs began jumping up and down on the bed and as a final touch the distant voice, louder this time, began again.

Totally pissed off at the world Clare gave in. Fighting off the over excited mutts she climbed out of her warm nest and shivering grabbed her dressing gown.
"No Greta, Wait!" Determined to at lest find out what that bloody voice was doing before she had the morning dominance ritual with Greta over who got to pee first.

She stumbled to the living room window and looked out at the street. Her eyes widened, it was snowing hard.  In fact, it was practically a blizzard. She rubbed the condensation off the glass and peered again. The voice had stopped again but she could just make out a vehicle moving slowly down the street. It was only because of the flashing light on top that she could tell it was a police car.

“Attention, attention. 
This is a safety announcement.
In the early hours of the morning a drugs dealer was arrested.
It is known that he had a large quantity of drugs on him but these have not been found. They are believed to be hidden somewhere in the area. If you find these do not touch them.
They are Dangerous. 
Call the police. 
Attention, Attention" the bored voice droned on.

Great, Exams finally bloody over, only one bloody week before uni starts and my first long lie in weeks is ruined by the police. And a blizzard! Wonderful, so much for spending my Christmas money, Clare thought. Greta broke in by using her paw to punch Clare's foot. A claw caught her skin and she yelped.
"OKAY!" moving fast she headed for the loo. Leaving the door open she sat and tried to empty her bladder at high speed.

"Greta don't you dare! Cause I'm peeing doesn't mean you can" Glaring back at the dog planted obstinately just out of reach.
"No!" fixing her clothes she grabbed the face clothe and tried to scrub her face and outstare Greta at the same time. "Don't you dare squat! Noooo." Out in the hall Beatrix wined.
"I'm coming, I'm coming... "She said hurrying back to the bedroom.

Clare locked the door of the flat and ran down the stairs to the outer door.
"GRETA, BEATRIX! Be quiet! Shut up!" From long practice she threw open the door jumped to the side and still got clouted in the knee by a racing mutt.

The door slammed behind her and she let out an explosive breath. As always she wondered just who was training who.

Yellow snow due'lly created the dogs began to romp. Ploughing threw the deep mounds, leaping up and snapping at the fat flakes falling vertically, in the still silent air. Grinning, Clare shook her head, pulled her woolly hat down over her ears and headed up the stairs to the fields behind the flats.

The ground was frozen solid under the deep snow. Trying to dredge up a clear memory of the path she followed at least three times a day. Clare muttered to herself as her boots, a rare concession to fashion caused her to slip and skid. Still she found herself relishing the day.

Greta trotted back for the umpteenth time. Stuck her nose into Clare's hand and bolted off.  Beatrix as always was nowhere to be seen.
"Beatrix!" No dog, still what trouble could she get into today? No one was about. Peering into the white wall, she continued to stagger forward.

To her left, she could just make out the line of trees threw the snow. The rutted path ran under their branches and without it she'd never catch up to the dogs. They loved the field at the end of the path. Beatrix was probably already there. Greta hadn't appeared recently, now that she thought about it. Staring around herself she kept on walking. The smooth heals of her boots abruptly encountered a smooth slippery surface.

Frantically wind milling her arms she fought for balance. Ending up on one knee, tense as a board.  Taking a shaky breath she looked at her feet. 
"Ah!" The kids den! The local kids had placed a large stiff plastic board over one of the extra deep ruts in the path. She walked across it every day. Glancing around herself self-consciously she snorted. "Nobody to see"

Picking herself up, she spotted movement amongst the trees. Mouth open to call the dogs she paused. Two figures but not the dogs, too big. She frowned; maybe that's where the dogs got to. Off playing with other people's mutts!
No, unlikely, no barking. Hmmm. Why would anyone be out today?

Still walking towards the field her feet slowed. The two figures were moving about amongst the trees. If she remembered correctly, they were just about where the washing machine had been dumped. She could hear their voices. Sounded like an argument. What were they doing? Why would anyone be out today?

Clare realised that she had stopped walking. Feeling faintly silly she moved closer to the nearest tree. Still no dogs but right now she was glad. Last time she had encountered someone unnerving out here Beatrix had whined and tried to climb her legs. Greta ran for home, without a backward glance.

What had the police said this morning? Something about drugs. Drugs dumped in the area, that was it. Why would anyone be out in a blizzard? They didn't have a dog. But then nether it seemed, did she. This was stupid. Where are the bloody dogs?

Still feeling faintly ridiculous Clare ploughed threw the virgin snow on the opposite side of the trees from the men. She thought they were men, the voices were deep. Torn between finding her dogs and retreating before the dogs noisily found her. She moved slowly forward, trying to hide behind the trees.

They were definitely arguing, the words didn't carry but the tone did. She froze and inched down to crouch behind the trunk. What were they doing?

It was the washing machine they were interested in. Clare had walked past it many times. It was an old rusted, dented metal shell. But Why? Drugs, hidden in the area, hidden. In the drum of a washing machine? A metallic screech made her jump and squeak. What were they doing? Pulling the back off, maybe. That decided her.
Clare tried moving backwards, moving away whilst still watching them. The snowfall was easing and she cursed. The third time she fell Clare gave up and scrambling to her feet she hurried away. God if the snow stopped they'd see her. The dogs, oh please, keep playing. Greta don't come back, don't check on me.

Behind her metal screamed, it wouldn't be long now. What could she do? It would take her too long to get far enough away. Once they got what they were here for. Once they got the drugs they'd spot her. Shit, SHIT, SHIT! Hide! Have to hide! Where?

Calm, calm down, okay where. Trees aren't thick enough but if they're not looking for someone? Yea right, police after them, telling the world. No they won’t be looking, stupid bitch. The den! God I'm going to feel really stupid. But, but, BUT!

The screech came again. It had a final, terminal sound to it.

Trying to disturb the snow as little as possible, Clare lifted the plastic just enough to crawl inside the hole. She tapped it, hoping to distribute the snow above, hide her tracks. It wasn't deep and she had to lie curled on the stuff the kids had left on the floor. Snow slithered down her neck and up the sleeve of her jacket. Her hat was falling off, covering her face and making her nose itch. She lay there, cold, beginning to shiver, trying not to breathe. Something lumpy digging into her back made her squirm. The bags below her rustled and she froze.

They must be able to hear my heart. Breathing so loud! Quiet, must be quiet. Voices! Oh god must be quiet. Please, Greta, Beatrix, don't come now. Greta doesn’t check on me, please! Hands cramping, pain, must be still, quiet.

"I told you the fucking belt would be gone!" one voice said.
"Yea, right. It's bloody ancient, where else will I get one?" another said.

Clare's eyes widened. Oh God! Please don't let the dogs come back! I'm a moron. Total and complete moron! Oh please don't let them find me.
Please, please, PLEASE!
Biting her lip she fought tears of mortification.  News flash, mad woman lies down in snow to stay warm, rather than walk home!  Paranoid twit hides from spare parts hunters!

How long she lay there shivering, waiting to be sure they had gone Clare didn't know. Still just in case she slithered out of the hole; trying to be invisible. Greta yipped happily, and both dogs leapt all over her. Soaked through she sat in the snow and let them.

It had stopped snowing and the sun bounced off the ground making her eyes water. Greta licked Clare from chin to forehead. Abruptly she shoved them away and pushed stiffly to her feet. Her foot caught the plastic and she kicked it away from her.

Stupid bitch, climbing into a hole like a bloody rabbit.
Glaring down into the hole she frowned. What the hell had she been lying on anyway?

There were two plastic bags and a navy hold-all lying on the ground. One of the bags had split, probably from her weight lying on it because it was full. Full of little bags of white powder.

She nudged it with her toe. Little white parcels spilled out. Her breath caught in her throat. Reaching down into the hole she unzipped the hold-all.

Money, lots and lots of money.

Clare gaped, remembered to breathe, and began to giggle, and then laugh, both dogs began to bark and she shushed at them, gasping for breath.

“Something funny?” he said.
Clare looked up, oh shit.