The Equations
Copyright© 2014 by phelani
Chapter 1
Mark Williams sidled through the laundromat door with his basket on his hip. It was a nondescript strip mall storefront, with a double line of washers down the center and a wall of dryers at the far end. The last space on the right contained a deep iron sink instead of a washer. The walls were lined with sorting tables interspersed with gaps for groups of tired-looking
folding chairs. A woman was standing at the farthest sorting table on the right writing something so Mark claimed the last table on the left. She looked up and smiled at him as he put his basket down. From a closer vantage point he could see that she was using a black marker to write on the sorting table itself. He smiled back. "I like your t-shirt," he said. "Maxwell's equations, aren't they?"
She looked down and pulled the shirt taut by the bottom
corners. "Yeah. You like it?"
"'Let there be light, ' in more detail. Exactly how I'd
expect a God to do it."
They were interrupted by a slim Chicano bursting through the door. He ran down the aisle toward the woman and brandished a knife in her face. "Gimme yo' wallet, bitch, or I'll cut ya!"
In an instant of startled gallantry Mark stepped forward. "Hey!"
The Chicano turned to him. "Yo' wallet too, white boy! Or I'll cut both of ya!"
While his attention was diverted to Mark the woman blocked the Chicano's right elbow with her right hand and slammed the top of his head into the corner of the iron sink with her left hand and a hip check. She shoved him head down into the sink and picked up the dropped knife. As Mark watched in stunned silence
she slit the would-be robber's throat. He thrashed a bit as he bled out, a small dollop of blood splashing onto her t-shirt. When the body stopped quivering the woman rinsed her hands in the sink and left the water running. She stripped off her t-shirt, revealing that she wore nothing underneath it, and casually wiped
a smear of blood from her chest and left breast. She dropped the stained t-shirt into the sink, donned another from her basket, nodded grimly at Mark and left the laundromat with her basket in her arms.
Mark stood rooted in place for several minutes, staring at the dead body and the swirling bloody water in horrified fascination. Once he could move he ran out of the building and stood hyperventilating on the sidewalk until he calmed down enough to call 911, almost dropping his cell phone several times during the process.
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