Kim, Zak, and Gilly with Gilly driving are in the right lane heading North on the E75 in downtown Gdansk. It’s not a controlled access highway in this stretch and Gilly is about to turn right onto Targ Weglowy, a local street, to get them into the central business district.
Zak reaches over to turn the heat down. The windows in the small vehicle are fogging up with all the evaporated snow they dragged into the car with them, which is now sitting in pools on the rubber mats at their feet. Zak rolls his window down a couple of inches.
Gilly has driven them down the A6, which was back the way they came, to the 501, coming into central Gdansk from the West. He figures they would be expected to take the shorter 468, leaving the Airport to enter and get lost in the city. There’s not much traffic at this hour other than a forlorn tram, its several red and white cars forging desolately down the highway median against an onslaught of snow.
Gilly slows the car to make the turn off the highway.
“It’s a drone!” Zak starts yelling very suddenly.
A high pitched whine slices the air and a spidery black flying machine drops into view forward of the car’s windshield, large and intimidating.
Gilly hits the brakes, fearing the hovering machine may crash into them. Instead, the dark hulk with a dozen fast spinning props, nearly as big as their car, throws a blinding beam of light at them, freezing Gilly in the driver’s seat, which sends the car flying through the turn. A bank of plowed snow veers into view, followed by a thunderous explosion of white that instantly covers the hood and windshield as they crash into it with a neck snapping jolt.
What follows is a moment of stunned silence, punctuated by the sound of the not far off drone.
“Crap!” Gilly finally says, slamming his hands with frustration on the steering wheel.
“Are you okay?” asks Zak.
“Sure. Can you get us out of this, Gil?” Kim asks, her hands on the back of his seat, her face near his.
Gilly first tries putting the car into reverse, but the wheels spin helplessly.
“No can do,” he says.
Gilly, Zak and Kim climb out of the car and into the snow, looking for signs of the drone, only to find it directly above them. Kim wastes no time. She swings her right hand up and fires a pistol she grabbed in the melee at the airport into the shiny black body of the craft, knocking down some of its noisy whine and bringing it crashing into a nearby bank of snow. The ugly dying drone promptly begins to steam, not entirely unlike the melting form of Theodora, the Wicked Witch of the West.
“Freakin’ crazy!” exclaims Gilly, running over to look at it.
“You shot it? Really?” Zak asks Kim.
“I was just lucky,” Kim observes guiltily, putting the gun back into her coat pocket.
“Good shootin’, Annie!” Zak smiles.
Gilly takes the opportunity to get a close look at the crippled drone and is quite fascinated by it. He finally turns around.
“Where the hell are we?” he asks.
“Yeah, where the hell are we?” asks Kim.
Zak looks around. A stone archway stands nearby. While trading places with Gilly on the long drive across Germany, Zak learned about Gdansk.
“This is where we enter the old city. This is one of the main gates. The Upland Gate. It begins the Royal Way, now called Long Street. Long Street will takes us to the Motlawa River, the City’s waterfront, and our ship. There used to be a moat here and the Gate had drawbridges.”
“And that?” Kim asks, pointing to the block long, Carnegie style building across the street.
“Yeah, that’s cool. That’s Narodowy Bank,” Zak says.
“Guys, we need to run,” says Gilly, “How about we take this Long Street to the waterfront to catch our ride?”
The three make their way down the middle of a half plowed street between the Upland Gate and the imposing Bank building. They round the corner and confront an ancient red stone tower.
Kim gestures to it and Zak gladly provides the details.
“This spooky building is the Amber and Torture Museum. Don’t ask me how those two things go together. I have no idea,” Zak responds. ”Historically it was Bursztynu Prison Tower and Courts. Hangings took place in this square.”
“And this,” by which Kim points at the delicate looking grey stone gate standing opposite the Tower, glass arched windows above, columns along the face, a baluster parapet with statues along the top, marking their way onto Long Street.
“Golden Gate or, more locally, Brama Kantor,” Zak answers.
They step beneath the gate’s high arch, the pedestrian way Long Street spread out in front of them. Piles of snow glisten under tall, triple globed street lights that curve like shepherd’s crooks. Large globes dangle high on the street light’s center crooks, augmented by smaller globes on cross braces beneath. Narrow five story townhouses line the street on either side, snow banked against them. Wooden shop signs hang in front of first floor stores. Upper floor residential windows above are dark at this early hour. There is no one in sight and the street is still except for the whisper of falling snow.
Zak, Kim and Gilly stand mute gazing up and down the old street.
“I love the sound of falling snow,” ventures Kim, her breath becoming an instant cloud of ascending vapor.
Gilly sees a lighted brick tower several blocks ahead.
“What’s that?”
“Old Town Hall. At the Town Hall, Long Street widens and becomes Long Market, which is basically the town square. Long Market will take us to the downtown wharf,” replies Zak.
Snow circles from one side of the street to the other, whipped by a sharp gust.
“We’ll find someplace to warm up,” Zak adds.
They pull up their collars and pull down their caps. Zak saw summer pictures of the street on the net, filled with flower stalls and al fresco restaurants. Now, front stoops are lost in the snow.
As they near the gothic Town Hall of red brick with its lighted tower and spire, they come upon a snow blower with a man inside its cab clearing a path down the center of the square. He has cleared around a tall Christmas tree that stands in front of the Hall. The Christmas tree and other trees nearby are lit with thousands of lights. Next to it, protected by a wrought iron fence, is the grandiose Neptune Fountain, an ebony statue of Neptune holding his spear, now covered in clinging snow. Artus Court is behind the fountain and has been turned into a history Museum. Zak turns and sees Hotel Dom Schumannow sitting on the corner across from the Town Hall. An end row house, painted pink, given especially ornate gold trimmings, it has a pair of white columns standing at the top of a set of stairs. The columns front an archway and a very heavy oak door.
The hotel’s brightly lit windows are welcoming and this is enough for Zak, who heads for the hotel, Kim and Gilly following quickly behind. A rush of warm air greets them when Zak pulls the big door open and they step inside.
“Hey, it’s none too soon. I’m frozen,” remarks Gilly as he enters and Zak closes the door behind them.
The three of them stand in the entry hall, knocking snow off their shoes and shaking it off their clothes. A dark, paneled desk sweeps across the end of the room, behind an expanse of thick Persian carpet. There a young woman stands, her hair pulled back, in a white blouse and dark vest.
“Can I help you,” the desk clerk asks, in English.
“We just needed to warm up a bit,” replies Kim.
“Fine,” says the clerk, waving at the lobby seating.
They step forward. Kim finds the sofa attractive and collapses on it.
“Thanks so much. We really appreciate it,” Kim says.
“Are you visiting tourists? This time of year?” the woman asks from behind her computer screen.
There is laughter from the three of them.
“Not exactly.”
Unzipping their coats, they feel the warmth of the lobby. Kim uses her phone to contact the ship, and is surprised by a
n immediate reply.
“The cargo ship can pick us up in front of Straganiarska Brama. Is that going to work?” Kim asks.
“Sure. That’s Long Quay across from the ship museum. That should be fine,” says Zak.
“We have a little time,” Kim remarks, getting comfortable.
“Let’s hope the storm lets up,” adds Gilly.
Before long all three are dozing while being watched over by the friendly hotel clerk. The snow outside continues to deepen and the hours wear on.
Toward morning, two businessmen, bags in tow, show up at the front desk, ready to check out. Their subdued conversation with the clerk wakes Zak, then the others.
“What time is it?” Kim yawns.
“You don’t want to know. We have to get a move on,” Zach tells her.
They gather their things and thank the desk clerk on their way out.
Standing on the granite steps of the hotel the three friends view the square, still dark before dawn, and listen to the whine of snow blowers that seems to come from every direction. The storm has blown over, the wind has abated. The square is already plowed and clear. In spite of the cold a flock of pigeons waddles and coos along its pavement.
From nowhere, a shot rings out in the frigid air, the sound merging instantly with that of the panicked birds taking to the air, their wings beating loudly.
“What the…?” escapes Gilly.
Kim and Zak look at each other with a knowing apprehension. In the next instant they are running for their lives down the broad length of Long Market, Gilly close behind, in a hurry to get to Motlawa Quay. All three of them look up and what they see none of them likes.
Chapter 79
On Fire Page 78