Evacuation

“We have received evacuation instructions,” Molly said, choking back tears, stepping boldly into the darkness at the mouth of the tunnel. “We cannot take our … pets.” She sobbed as she held the little bundle tightly to her; trying not to let go … trying not to listen to the chaos of the world thundering overhead. “Please … please … I’m begging … “ The minotaur stepped forward, impossible in size; its eyes moved from her to the animal, and back to her. “I have to know she’s safe; I cannot leave if she isn’t safe. I’m asking you to please take her and, if you cannot, I beg you to let us stay down here unharmed. I will care for her; I will feed her. I brought everything.” Molly reached into one of the large bags she’d dropped onto the floor; pulling out a folded quilt, she held it towards the beast. “I made this to give as a gift - to someone, to anyone … to a friend … some day ... and I’d like you to have it. Whatever happens, I am grateful to you - for you - for what you’ve already done for so many.” The minotaur took the quilt in its great claws and marveled at its softness. “You may carry the little one near you until we reach the jut under the airport, and then I will take her,” it said. “Thank you! I cannot tell you how much … ,” Molly started. “Be silent as you follow me,” it said, turning away, “and move as swiftly as you can.” She swallowed hard and stroked the tiny head bobbing against her chest. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “You’re going to be okay.” She hoped it sounded convincing; she hoped it was true; she hoped that there were other minotaurs moving in a riddle of tunnels deep under the streets in other places besides Afghanistan - in safe and quiet places of impossible beauty.