“Ladies and gentlefolk. Please compose yourselves,” said the raven-face. The other birds strutted onto the stage one by one, a show of shadows with sharp black beaks and suits to match.
“What is all the fuss about?” the raven-face speaker said, moving in jolting twitches. A brave woman among the crowd in a deep red velvet coat, with a mouse-face, tentatively raised her hand, addressing the raven-face by name:
“Madame Helen, miss, we have just heard the news that Dickens is dead!” She wept.
“Nonsense. Who told you that?” Madame Helen asked.
There was silence once again and it was full of worried faces searching for someone to blame. Kuffi bent low and whispered in Cecilia’s ear. “It’s time to go, little thing. Do you remember where the Wasp 75 is?”
Cecilia nodded.
“Make your way though the crowd and meet me there. Do not stop and do not look back until you get there. Don’t be scared and move very slowly. OK?”
Cecilia nodded again and began to move. It was terrifying. She tried not to bump anyone and she did pretty well at not being noticed. But she feared for Kuffi: he was big and tall.
She climbed the limestone steps until she reached the top where she followed the path back to the parking lot. It wasn’t far and as she came up to it she could see the Wasp 75 right away. Cecilia broke into a run and went and hid behind the vehicle, grasping it tightly and trembling terribly. She felt awful, it was all her fault that trouble had broken out. If only she’d kept her mouth shut, she thought. Kuffi seemed to take such a long time but eventually she saw him enter the parking lot. He must’ve stayed back so as not to attract too much attention. Kuffi came over to the Wasp 75 and in a loud whisper he said, “I’m being followed, stay down.”
Two of the guys Cecilia had just seen land in the crowd a few minutes before, the ones with jackdaw faces and black suits, swooped in on Kuffi. One landed right on top of the handlebars of the Wasp 75.
“What have we got here then, Julius?” said the smaller of the two bird-faced figures.
“Let’s see, shall we, Marvin? Tall, ginger, pointy ears and a silly hat!” said Julius, knocking Kuffi’s pillbox hat off his head.
“Sounds like Kuffi to me, Julius!” said Marvin. He sounded like such a telltale.
“Kuffi, Kuffi, Kuffi,” tutted Julius and he kicked Kuffi’s hat aside.
Marvin bounced up and down on the handlebars as Julius squared up to Kuffi. Julius sneered at Kuffi.
“ID papers, Mr Kuffi,” he demanded, throwing his wings back and extending an arm from beneath.
Kuffi reached into his top pocket and handed over the papers.
“Mr Kuffi McAllister, are you aware that your ID papers are almost out of date? You better get that sorted, or next time we meet I’ll be taking you in. Do you understand?” Julius began preening his jet-black feathers and flicked off a piece of fluff that had become caught. Kuffi stood proudly and quietly, looking quite unafraid. Cecilia stayed low; she felt so helpless as she listened to them trying to intimidate Kuffi.
“Cat got your tongue, Kuffi? That’s not like you. Well, listen here, you’re not so special that you don’t have to pay to update your ID papers just like everybody else. There’s, nothing more I’d like than to take you to Jacques d’Or!” drawled Julius from his humble spot as Kuffi towered over him. But he was far from being humble—he was a nasty piece of work, Cecilia could tell. “We will get you one day, you useless lump.” Julius eyed up the Wasp 75.
“Nice set of wheels you got here. See this, Marvin?” Julius said, grabbing hold of the other end of the handlebars where Marvin was perched. As he walked round he kicked dirt in Cecilia’s face. She tried not to breathe it in.
“It’s only a matter of time before we take her for a spin.” Julius’ voice was dripping with contempt.
“Joyride, more like!” cackled Marvin, hopping swiftly into the air.
The two Corvus Community members made to leave, Julius kicking Kuffi’s hat along in the dirt some way before leaping into the air, his parting words echoing through the tunnels.
“Watch your back, Kuffi. We’ll be hiding in the shadows, waiting. Your time will come!”
Kuffi was very quiet. He walked over to his hat without saying a word and bent down to pick it up. On his way back to the Wasp 75, he dusted it off and tried to batter some shape back into it.
“Poor hat,” he said when he had returned. “It sure has taken a beating.” He placed it back on his head, completely disregarding what had just happened.
“Right then,” he said. “We should get out of here. There’s a bad smell about the place don’t you think, Cecilia?”
“Yes. Yes, there is,” she said, slowly rising from her hiding spot.
“We might need a bit more juice though.”
“Juice?” asked Cecilia.
“For the motor,” replied Kuffi. “She’s not a carpet, Cecilia, she doesn’t run on hot air!”
Cecilia had no idea what Kuffi was talking about and it sounded so ridiculous she started laughing. Kuffi burst into laughter too and both of them felt a great sense of
