The Barcode (Part 2)

- How did they disappear like that?

- I don’t know. But it seems to me this is not a very good sign. Who are they, anyway?

- I don’t know either, but I'd love to find out...

- I don’t think we will meet them again. Unless…

A disturbing thought crossed the mind of the boy wearing glasses, interrupting the flow of words. The other young man soon realized what he meant and shook his head negatively.

- No... no... no... I can’t believe it. It cannot be…

He scratched his head, as if looking for a way to get rid of his bad thoughts.

- Or can it?

- We both know very well that everything is possible... every and anything!

- We won’t have time to find out anyway. We’ve got to go back to the Army tomorrow... Thankfully...

- Or not…

- What do you mean by “or not”?

***

- Be quiet and still and I'll let you go free. Promise you will not scream. I don’t want to hurt you... unless it is really necessary... and if it is, you know I will really hurt you.

She agreed. He loosened the hand and arm slowly, allowing her to be freed, but under his careful vigilance.

- Are you insane? You cannot expose yourself like that. Have you realized you’d be risking ourselves, running through the crowd like that? Do you know the danger in which we have been placed?

- Apparently the one who was too exposed was not me. Look at you. Why were those two guys following us? It did not seem to me it was merely by chance...

- They're just a pair of nosy young men. We can handle it, but not now. We have more important things to deal with. Our task is more vital now. Time is not standing still and we are running out of any left very fast.

- This is really essential or is it in fact a big mistake? Or perhaps it is just a whim, not wanting to accept the inevitable?

- Whim? Survival is a whim, now? And where does this doubt came from, like this, out of the blue?

She looked at the big man, seriously and firmly. Her face was grave and somewhat challenging. Deep in her eyes there were traces of a sad awareness. The right seemed no longer so right and the obvious was not so obvious anymore...

Her eyes seemed to defocus and her expression changed suddenly, from defiant to wistfully anguished.

- I still cannot say for sure. Something tells me that this sacrifice will not bring the expected result.

That evidence of a doubtful mind, her speech and her behaviour were not normal and neither showed a good sign to the man...

They were not actually trained or programmed to question the purpose of a task assigned to them. Either they would go ahead to full completion or they would jeopardize much more than the simple conclusion of a considered too important mission.

To ensure survival at any cost was definitely a great responsibility... and not just for the two of them... only perhaps it would never be seen as such... unfortunately...

That was the heroic and sad fate of the anonymous soldiers.

***

- Our flight is only late this afternoon. Let's put our things together and spend the afternoon at the Public Marketplace, one last time. From there we’ll go straight to the airport.

Although it was not his favourite place, the young man wearing glasses agreed with the friend’s plans. He was hoping to meet the girl with braided hair, but did not express his desire aloud. The other thought his lack of protest was unusual, but kept quiet. He wanted to enjoy the last few hours on the island before heading back to their normal hard lives. Maybe they would not come back so soon ... maybe they would not come back ever again...

- Let's 'check out' and leave so we can make good use of the time we have left here.

Shortly after, the two friends went out with rucksacks on their backs toward the Public Market. In the minds of the two there were different purposes, mixed with some authentic concerns.

***

- It's almost time to go back. We have to leave here and complete our task as soon as possible. The two most populous cities of the country are already prepared. We just need to 'pull the trigger', so to speak. Also we no longer need to come back here. We will be taken back from there... the two of us... apart from each other...

- I don’t want to go. I do not believe we will succeed in this crazy enterprise...

- And since when you have this option?

- And what if it does not work? What if…

The man interrupted irritated.

- If this... If that... too many IF’s! We’ll only know IF we finish what we've come here for... This is the only IF that really matters! Now, stop this nonsense and let's go!

***

- Don’t you turn around now. Pretend you are interested in something else right there in front of you.

- Okay, but tell me what's going on...

- Barcode is enough of a hint to you?

The boy wearing glasses stopped, as if frozen. His disappointment for not having seen the girl at the Public Marketplace disappeared immediately. For some strange reason he felt a shiver going up and down his spine.

- They are going to different doors. I think they will split. She is coming to this side, closer to this door. You can look now… but just turn around very carefully…

The boy wearing glasses pretended to be distracted and looked toward the door, where passengers began queuing in response to the call that had just been heard from the speakers of the small airport waiting room. The two friends rose and followed the line, showing little interest in almost everything except to the girl with very black hair, a dozen steps ahead of them.

Soon the door opened and the passengers moved ahead, crossing it after showing their documents and proceeding to the aircraft that had just been prepared to take off in minutes. The shaven-headed man drove a last stare at the girl, who walked through the door and proceeded forward, without looking back. The man was probably making sure that she would not give up.

The two young men crossed the sliding door soon after, with their eyes fixed on the girl wearing the hair arranged in a long dark braid, who could hardly hide an unusual and intriguing tattoo. They quickened their pace to get closer and observe where she would sit. Maybe they could get in touch somehow...

When they reached the small door of the large airplane, the slow agglomeration of passengers organising their hand luggage and looking for seats distracted them.

- Good afternoon. Welcome. Seats, please... that side, please.

The flight attendant directed the passengers through and separated them in two rows, in order to expedite the boarding. The two young men were then more concerned with allocating their own luggage above the seats. The boy wearing glasses hastened to leave the backpack in the overhead compartment and to seek, quickly, for a known figure more in the background, before taking his own seat.

- Excuse me. Excuse me, please…

The flight attendant went on with hurried steps in the direction of the rear of the aircraft. The hair tied neatly in a bun behind her head barely hid a small dark mark... a tattoo...

The boy wearing glasses was livid when he saw her approach the dark haired girl and give her a small package. The girl looked at her with an uncertain air and sat down, very serious. The other woman was positioned in the back row, where she could watch that specific female passenger very closely...

- Sir, please sit down and fasten the seat belt. We are ready to take off...

The young man sat down and whispered to his friend:

- There is something very wrong here.

Then he told his mate what he had just seen and they both agreed that they were witnessing a strange sequence of events. Halfway through the flight, when things looked more controlled, although still intrigued and when returning from the toilet, the boy wearing glasses felt someone walked past, bumping him the moment he bent over to ward off the seat seatbelt before sitting back down. He moved his body to the front and let a girl pass by.

- What's that falling out of your pocket?

The boy pulled a piece of folded paper from his pocket, which was not there before. He unfolded it and saw a small note written with a not very common lettering, almost too farfetched.

“Wait outside the airport, at the arrival gate, where the taxis are. I need help.”

At then end and right below the strange note, there was a small mark he soon recognized and which caused him a lot more of a usual concern. He handed the paper in to his friend and the two looked at each other without saying anything, recognizing a small bar code placed as a signature to that unusual message...

The Barcode (Part 1)

- How did he get into our photo, like this, out of the blue?

- I don’t know. He must have been sitting there for a while... but we never noticed it...

- What's that mark over there, on the back of his head?

- It looks like a tattoo... Zoom it, please... I think it's a barcode!

- Ugh!!! What kind of people would do that? I’m not saying that’s not original... but he looks more like a soldier or a scientific experiment, than a normal man. A bar code is not a beautiful picture anyway to be tattooed on someone’s head...

- He is pretty scary, actually and not the type you want to meet when you are alone in a dark alley...

- He’s not that scary, I think... or is he?

They both laughed. They had been scrutinizing the details of a "selfie” just taken on the terrace of the Café, where they were relaxing for a while. A stranger was clearly seen in the background for their own surprise. He was a big man, with shiny shaved head and was sitting half back to them. A weird tattoo was engraved on the back of his head, almost where the neck began. A black T-shirt, tightly fit to the body and arms, evidenced hard muscles worked out for long hours in the gym and weight lifting or perhaps even military training. The skin was very tanned, but in a natural and permanent way, as of a person living in the tropics, used to the outdoor life and the effects of many hours of skin exposure to the sun.

An uneasy feeling went through the minds of the two friends, who slowly turned around, without saying anything. The place where the stranger was, however, was already empty and there was no one around with similar-looking, to their frustration.

- I had a bad feeling.

- Weird. Me too…

***

- Let’s go to the public marketplace. I’d love to have something nicer to eat and drink.

- It smells like fish. And there’s too many people...

- Stop being fussy and let’s move. There’s also a lot of people here on the boardwalk and you don’t complain. I don’t like to stay so long in the sun and I'm making you company anyway. I would rather sit on a bench, underneath the fig tree and see the passers-by or go to some cooler place, like those corridors in the Marketplace...

The Public Marketplace was an old building that had been restored to have some modern features introduced, but keeping the original architectural pattern of over two centuries ago. The last reconstruction had rescued both the style and the initial colors standard.

The moss-green Roman arched doors and windows contrasted harmoniously with the yellow walls of the building. The very high ceilings kept the building cool and pleasant throughout the warm season, without the need of air conditioning.

Two separate structures, the north and the south wings, were connected by Roman arches on the extremities, with one lookout tower on each extremity and, in the central part, there was a little square that housed the terraces of a food court, frequented both by locals and tourists.

Open corridors ran over the heads of passers-by, facing the inside of the small square. Stair accesses, one on each side, at the entrance and exit, completed the harmonious and simple frame, but with a strong presence in the old city center.

At the time when it had been built, the south wing was closer to the port, to facilitate the unloading and avoid unnecessary expenses on transportation of various goods and the fish that came fresh from the open seas, in numerous fishing boats of the island's companies. It was the place where the best, most abundant and fresher fish was sold. 

Later on, the bay was dredged up and the sand taken from the bottom of the channel filled part of the area where the quay was initially, causing the need of the docks to be moved to the other side. The building of the marketplace, however, remained in its original place, with its traditional trade, tailored to the needs of the local people, tourists and merchants.

The two entered the south wing, which still held the trade of fish and seafood, but had also evolved to a series of 'boxes', closer to the entrance, where they served typical and traditional dishes of the island. They ate some crab and shrimp fried balls, the local delicacies, while sipping a cold draught beer and watched the passers-by coming and going with their loud talk, trying to make themselves understood in the midst of a Babel of strange and familiar accents.

At the other end, the 'boxes' were in a frenzy trade and the scent of fresh fish, because of the wind, came towards them.

- I said this place stank...

- Of course. This is the fish marketplace after all...

A young woman dressed in very dark clothes walked in with quick steps. She had very black and shiny hair arranged in a braid that fell down along her back, leaving the white skin of her neck at sight.

For a second, the boy wearing glasses had the impression he saw a small mark on the back of her neck, on the base of her braided hair, as he watched the woman haste up and disappear through the center exit door which led to the north wing. The young man looked at his friend with a strange expression and an unexpected paleness to his face.

- What is it? It looks like you're going to pass out... You all right?

- I think the bar code tattoos are in fashion around here…

- What? This is nonsense...

- I think I saw someone else with the same kind of marking... Come with me... I want to be sure of something...

The two rose and went toward the exit. 

Someone pushed them briskly to the side, moving quickly ahead and without apologizing. It was a big, muscular man with a shaved head, dressed in a black t-shirt. Behind the head, on top of the neck, there was a small tattoo, depicting a bar code.

- Let's go!

The two followed the man with quick steps. That could not be a mere coincidence. At the other end, amongst the passersby who walked lighthearted, a dark-haired woman with a long braid, also dressed in black, walked very fast, without looking back. The man was very close to her and somewhat away from the two, at that time.

The two boys walked forward when she turned left, after passing the arch over the east entrance, with the shaved head man following her very closely.

They turned left when they reached the portal, but could not see the two characters they were chasing without even knowing why, amid the people walking up and down the busy streets. They looked around, but did not see that man or the woman. They ran up the street behind the Customs building, but no one who looked like them walked with fast or slow steps...

They had simply disappeared in the midsummer afternoon buzz.

The two young men finally gave up and went on, without even talking, following the striders who walked around and ahead over the cobblestone mosaics of the boardwalk floor.

A street musician played an old guitar and sang a known song to a tiny audience.

Behind the Venetian door of the lookout tower entrance of the public market, a big man with tanned skin, kept a hand covering tightly the mouth of a girl with black hair and pale skin. The other arm held her fragile body very firmly, preventing her from moving... 

On the outside, life was going on still and normal with tourists and locals walking by, oblivious to what was happening behind the venetian blinds of the green painted door...