We won't be caught up

The place of action is the planet Earth, the city of Chicago _______________________________________________ Cross was bent over the hood of an old Hudson Hornet, tightening bolts and deftly handing himself the right tool with his flexible tail. He quickly grasped the Earth's technology, which was much simpler and, in some cases, quite primitive compared to Martian technology. As Charlie repaired the motor scooter, she kept glancing at his well-proportioned figure, knowing that she was envious of the Martian, and she kept adjusting her tool belt. "A tail is an indispensable tool for a mechanic," she thought. Finally, Cross closed the car's hood and got behind the wheel, turned the ignition key, smoothly pressed the gas pedal, and heard the smooth hum of the engine. Then, satisfied with its performance, he turned off the ignition and got out of the car. "You're really good at this," Charlie couldn't help but compliment him. His help in the garage was invaluable. While the others were busy saving Chicago from Limburger's appetites, they had to satisfy the appetites of the city's furry defenders, which, as we all know, required money. Additionally, frequent repairs, fueling, and upgrades of their bikes also required significant resources. "If there's any more work, call me," he said, and went back to the warehouse. "Okay, Cross," she said, watching him go. There was something strange about the guy—when a new customer arrived, he would go to the warehouse or the break room without showing himself to the people. When asked why he was doing this, Cross replied: "You don't want your clients to panic and bring a bunch of ufologists here, do you?" It was hard to disagree with that argument, although her other friends from Mars were not so scrupulous about it.

***

It was hard to disagree with that argument, although her other friends from Mars were not so scrupulous about it. Later in the afternoon, we have a meeting with the mayor, a transfer of equipment to hospitals, a transfer of humanitarian aid to social services, and a tour of the repair sites, if we have time," said Secretary Flore. "Do you think he's already made up his mind?" the girl asked doubtfully. We don't have time to wait for them to deliberate for a week," the man replied. "Well, as long as I don't miss the deadline," the girl sighed and stepped out onto a small balcony as her assistant left. She still had a few hours of free time. The wind played with her blonde hair, caressing her face and eyelashes. She closed her eyes and, holding her breath, felt the lightest, most delicate kiss of the wind on her half-open lips. Flora smiled at the sun's rays that bounced off the windows of the houses and high-rise buildings, signaling the beginning of a new day. The unfamiliar city began to charm her with its tranquility and serenity.

***

Charlie turned on the TV, deciding to take a break. The screen showed the mayor of Chicago shaking hands with a young, slender, blonde girl in a peach-colored suit. "So she's okay," Charlie said, sighing with relief. Cross ignored the TV screen and went to wash his hands after work. "Today, Miss Deloren visited City Hall and discussed the details of her conglomerate's upcoming charitable activities in Chicago." The voice-over was saying. Meanwhile, the picture changed: the girl and the mayor were sitting at the same table, discussing something. In the next video, she and the mayor were walking down the corridor of the hospital, where the equipment and medicines had been brought. It was clear from the interior that the hospital was not well-equipped. They were again discussing something, occasionally gesturing.

***

Busy with his usual tasks, Cross didn't notice how evening had fallen upon the city. The other mice, along with Karabina, were patrolling the city as usual. Meanwhile, Rimfire arrived at the garage. Cross, let's take a ride around town. You haven't seen Chicago yet. It's already evening, so there won't be any customers," he suggested, removing his helmet and eliminating the possibility of refusal. "All right, let's go," said Cross, knowing that Rimfire wouldn't leave until he agreed. He put on a heavy leather jacket, hiding his tail under it, and grabbed his helmet before getting on his black bike with green stripes and a seat. Road led them away from the outskirts of the city. Soon, the dilapidated buildings gave way to well-maintained high-rises. The city greeted them with a multitude of lights and neon signs, as well as the sound of voices and vehicles. Cross was intrigued by the unfamiliar city, which was quite different from the sparse surface structures of Mars. The workshop where he worked was one of the few buildings in the city that remained on the surface after the war. Here, the flashes of light were almost blinding. And then there was the transportation. There were so many cars that it was impossible to drive at the same speed as on the highway. How was it? Cross heard Rimfire's voice, who was driving in front to keep Cross from getting lost, through the small external speakers in his helmet. "Too bright... Too noisy," he replied. The guys were slowly but surely approaching the city center. They were having to stop at traffic lights more and more often, without turning off their engines. When they stopped at one of the lights, they had to wait for a long time. Cross looked around. He had already begun to identify various engine malfunctions that would soon cause inconvenience to the owners of cars and motorcycles, making them customers of the Last Chance workshop. However, the engine of a low-slung, coffee-colored Cadillac was running smoothly and quietly. The passenger-side windshield was down, and the interior light illuminated the girl sitting inside. She had long blonde hair and was wearing a peach-colored suit. Her focused gaze was fixed on the book she was flipping through. "That's a good way to pass the time in traffic," Cross thought, smiling. The girl suddenly looked up from her book and turned in his direction, as if she could feel his gaze on her. At first, he was taken aback, but then he raised his hand and waved at her in greeting. Her beautiful blue-green eyes were filled with ice, sending a wave of chills down his spine. Suddenly, Cross heard the sound of cold metal hitting the visor of his helmet. A gun was pointed directly at his face, and the serious expression on the face of the large man did not bode well. "Raise your hands so I can see them," he said sternly. The girl went back to reading, and the windshield slowly rose, hiding her from view. "I didn't do anything," Cross said, dropping the steering wheel and slowly raising his hands. "Uncle Mudo, Uncle Mudo, we have a problem, - sent a message on the outside communication, seeing that his friend was in trouble. The police officers approached them. "What happened?" asked one of the officers. Check to see if this speeding driver has a license. He probably doesn't, and see if this bike is registered as stolen," said the man, quickly hiding his weapon and showing his security ID. "That's not true," Cross tried to argue. "Sir, please exit the vehicle," Officer Cross said. The man walked away from them and got into the same car where the girl was sitting. It was impossible to describe the feeling she experienced when she saw the motorcyclist again, and once again saw her reflection in the visor of his helmet. Flora tried in vain to hide the trembling in her hands, trying her best to remain completely calm on the outside. You shouldn't open the windows, miss," Walter said as he returned to the car, interrupting her painful memories. The car started moving, and all she wanted to do was get away from this place as soon as possible. After a while, Trottle, Modo, and Vincent and Charlie arrived at the scene. By then, Cross was being handcuffed and loaded into a police car. Rimfire tried in vain to persuade them not to do so. "Stay out of this, kid, or we'll throw you in with them," one of the policemen advised him, pushing him away from the car. "Hey, what right do they have to arrest him?!" Charlie said, getting off the bike behind Vinnie. "Identifying the person. He has no license or identification," the policeman replied. "But he didn't break anything," Trottle said confidently. "Yes, but..." the officer hesitated. "Maybe you should let him go until the case is resolved," Mudo suggested. After some persuasion, arguments, and checking the bike against the stolen vehicle database, they agreed to release him under Charlie's responsibility. They returned to the garage together. "So, you've just arrived in town and you've already gotten involved in something. I wonder what it is?" Mudo asked them sternly. "Nothing..." Cross replied grimly and went to the recreation room. "Hey, what's the big deal?" Vincent replied, looking after the boy with a disapproving eye. Charlie put her hand on his shoulder, shaking her head in a negative motion, letting him know that Cross should be left alone for the time being. After a while, when the guy had had a chance to cool down and recover, everyone entered the lounge room and sat down on the sofas and chairs. "Look, Cross, we need to know what happened there. Whatever it was, if the police are involved..." Charlie said calmly. "The fact is, I don't really understand what happened," Cross replied, perplexed. "Can you tell me everything in order?" Trottle replied. "We were in a traffic jam. There was a car next to us, and there was a girl in it. I just looked at her, and then this guy with a gun showed up and turned me in to the police," Cross said angrily. "You just looked at the girl," Trottle said. "It's my first time in town, and I've already fallen for a girl," Vincent chuckled. "Yes, I just looked," the guy confirmed, blushing for some reason. "Blonde... Brunette? Pretty?" Vincent brightened up. Charlie gave him a displeased look. Vinnie just shrugged his shoulders in confusion, but he did shut up. What could be so objectionable about looking at a person? Is it illegal? Cross inquired. "As far as I know, no," Charlie replied. The girl could see that he was in a depressed state, and she could feel that he was not telling her everything. She sat down next to him and placed her hand on his, which caused Vincent to look at her with a displeased expression. "Is that all that's bothering you? Or is there something else... " she suggested, looking at him intently. Cross looked away and sighed heavily. "The way she looked at me," Cross replied quietly. "With interest?" Modo interjected. "With admiration," Trottle suggested. "With lust," Vinnie added. "With hatred... It's like I'm the meanest Plutarkian in the universe. Is it possible to hate just like that?.. No way. I didn't do anything wrong to her," he said, indignant. Charlie touched his shoulder, comforting him, looking into his purple eyes full of incomprehension. "Worse than Limburger..." Modo interjected. "More despicable than Napoleon Bri..." — Trottle picked up, who had almost been slapped on the back of the head by Carabina. Cross looked at them sadly, not appreciating their attempt to cheer him up. "It's all very strange," Karabina replied thoughtfully. "More than that," Trottle agreed. "I wonder who this girl is," Rimfire said. "I'd like to know myself," Cross replied. Later, when deep night had fallen on the city, he climbed to the roof of one of the neighboring dilapidated buildings, taking his guitar with him. And soon the long sound of a melody was heard. Cross extracted the iridescent sounds from the guitar, then striking the strings with his fingers, holding them at the right fret, pulling the lever, then quickly strumming the strings, extracting beautiful loud trills. The guitar roar, smoothly turning into a moan, echoed around the area. Every chord seemed to speak for him, penetrating the souls of the unwitting listeners with longing and pain. No one disturbed him, allowing him to express his negative emotions through music. Later, lying in a hammock in the shelter, in a vain attempt to fall asleep, Cross still could not forget those eyes of the color of a calm ocean and was still lost in guesses: "For what?" The decision was born in a fraction of a second: he must find her and talk to her. The mouse and himself was surprised by his aspiration, after all, before that he did not care how they looked at him. And here... Why did the look of this particular earthling so catch him? Maybe if he meets her and talks to her, he'll understand why he's worried.