Manx- What Happens in the Wraith

  The car stopped at an intersection. A middle-aged woman stood on the curb, eight feet away. She was in shorts and a headband, jogging in place. She was waiting for her walk light, even though there was no cross traffic.

  Wayne acted without thought. He flung himself at the door and banged his hands on the glass.

  “Help!” he screamed. “Help me!”

  The jogging woman frowned and looked around. She stared at the Rolls-Royce.

  “Please help!” Wayne screamed, slapping the window.

  She smiled and waved.

  The light changed. Manx rolled sedately through the intersection.

  To the left, on the other side of the street, Wayne saw a man in a uniform coming out of a doughnut shop. He wore what looked like a policeman’s cap and a blue windbreaker.

  Wayne pitched himself across the car and banged his fists on the other window. As he did and the man came into focus, Wayne could see it was a postman, not a policeman. A podgy man in his mid-fifties.

  “Help me! I’m being kidnapped! Help, help, help!” Wayne screamed, his voice cracking.

  “He can’t hear you,” Manx said. “Or, rather, he does not hear what you want him to hear.”

  The postman looked at the Rolls going by. He smiled and raised two fingers to the brim of his cap in a little salute. Manx drove on.

  “Are you done making such a racket?” he said.

  “Why don’t they hear me?” Wayne asked.

  “It is like what they are always saying about Las Vegas: What happens in the Wraith stays in the Wraith.”

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