In Red (Chapter 4, page 1 of 2)

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SHE HAD AN EXPECTED NIGHTMARE: SHE WAS STILL IN THE CAR, with Celeste, but through the window, she couldn't see the gorgeous river anymore. Instead, she saw Mr. Harris quarrelling with Alan and his driver friend.

Being it one of those nightmares in which you're conscious that you're asleep, she closed her eyes, hoping the scene would have changed by the time she opened them again.

It didn't work. Well, sometimes it's not that easy and you have to try once more.

"Let's get out and run. They're not looking our way. They may not even notice," said Celeste.

Roxanne sat up and gazed at her sister, who'd just woken up. Then, she looked out the window again. Alan's friend had a hand on Mr. Harris's chest and the other one pointing to the car.

It was without doubt a nightmare - but she was not sleeping.

"You cannot take them away! They must go back home!"

"I'm not taking them away! They asked for our help," replied the driver. "They're grown-ups; they can choose whether or not they want to go home."

Mr. Harris, in his usual leather outfit, was trying to remain elegantly - so he thought - calm.

"I believe you don't know who you're talking to, or whom I represent."

"That wouldn't make me change my opinion."

The driver had removed his hand, but both he and Alan were blocking his way toward the car.

"Fine. I won't lose any more time tonight over those two birds."

He glared at them. "But take my word for it. You and I will meet again."

Mr. Harris turned around and walked to his own vehicle. Alan turned around also and went round the front of the car to get in the passenger side.

The driver began his return more slowly. He stayed next to the door, with his back to the car, watching the man in leather, who, about thirty feet away, had just taken his seat and was rolling down the window to, thought Roxanne, dedicate some last sententious words to them.

She was wrong.

Without a word, he stuck a rifle out the window and, very soon, the girl in red felt glass flying onto her. Then, a sharp poke on her shoulder, which gradually became stinging and acute pain, radiating into the arm. She touched it, and found her hand wet and matching the colour of her dress. She couldn't understand what had just happened - but she was injured and beginning to feel sick.

The headlights of the car that was turning and driving away illuminated her for a few moments.

"Don't worry," she heard the driver say, through a buzzing inside her head. "I'm a doctor. It's gonna be all right."

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