They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.
-(The Story begins HERE)-
Michelle raced up to me, and throwing her arms around my neck pressed her lips hungrily against mine. Ignoring the pain of my broken finger I dug my hands deep into the back pockets of her jeans. It might have been only two days since we'd last held each other, but to me it had seemed like weeks. It was not surprising that our passionate embrace would not go unnoticed.
"Get a room, you two!" Brock chuckled as he herded Faye past us.
The distant wail of sirens signaled the advancing parade of emergency equipment racing from the nearby civilian side of the airport. Without a word we began to pile into the vehicle, an over-sized delivery van. To a person, we did not want to be there to answer any questions or to explain our presence there.
Michelle grinned at Baxter as he ducked his head into the van. "Use enough dynamite there, Baxter?" she asked parodying a well known movie quote. Her smile, however, quickly faded, "Where's David? He made it off the plane ... didn't he?"
Baxter shook his head and replied, "I don't know. When I went through the door he was at the console. He must have been trying to grab the original connector."
"Did anyone else get off the plane?" queried Stu Jankowski who was sitting behind the steering wheel.
"If they did, they probably went in there," I offered pointing across the debris-riddled tarmac at the building which was completely engulfed in flames.
There was a sudden flash of pulverized runway followed by the whistling of a ricocheting bullet which slammed into the side of the van. In a trice the sound of the gun shot caught up with the projectile as it echoed across the airfield.
I shoved Michelle into the van and dove in after her even as Stu shifted into gear and slammed the accelerator to the floor. I heard the sound of a second shot but it must have missed hitting the van. I just managed to close the sliding side door when shards of glass showered onto me when its window shattered into the back of the van.
The spinning rear wheels of the van spat up gravel amid a cloud of dust before they gained traction. The vehicle lurched forward and picked up speed when it reached the paved surface of the road.
We barely had time to feel good about our escape when Susan shrieked, "Professor Jordan! You've been shot!"
Jordan, slumped on the floor behind the driver's seat, was clutching a blood soaked wound near his shoulder. He winced and gritted his teeth, "It hurts but ... I'm okay. I don't think it hit anything ... vital."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Brock O'Day as he grabbed a cargo blanket and spread it on the floor. "Lie down, Professor and let me take a look at it."
Susan helping with his legs, Brock placed his hand around the man's back and eased him into a supine position onto the blanket. Easing his arm free he grunted when he saw that the palm of his supporting hand was covered in blood. "Well, at least there's good news," he uttered, "the bullet passed completely through."
"That's hardly encouraging, Sergeant," Jordan grimaced, "knowing that I have an extra ... hole in my body."
"Yes. There is the matter of these entry and exits wounds," O'Day responded, "and they need to be treated."
"On the strip there's a small convenience store." Michelle offered. "We can pick up some bandages and antiseptic there."
She looked at me as if anticipation what I might say but I queried anyway. "Strip? Route 66?"
She nodded, "Yes. There's a motel and a diner too ... just like the ones in my dream." She shrugged and added, "Coincidence?"
"No, my dear," said Jordan, "it's not a coincidence. Your dream is not a dream, but a subconscious memory that I resurrected in your mind." He looked over at Susan and appeared to be taking great care in how he phrased his next words, "It was something that happened to you when you were not ... ah, yourself. I hope that makes sense."
When she nodded I could see that Michelle understood, as I had, the implications of Jordan's words. He was referring to a buried and forgotten memory of something that had occurred when she was the embodiment of ... Susan Parsons. As one we studied Susan who was watching us and listening but not understanding. Jordan was wise to avoid the suggestion of transplanted minds. As confusing as it was to Michelle and me, to that poor girl it would be not be healthy for her to discover that she was somebody else.
I hadn't even noticed that were passing by a few scattered buildings until Stu turned the van into a narrow alley between ... the diner and a motel. He brought the vehicle to a stop in front a brick facade and said over his shoulder, "Michelle, can you hop out and run to the convenience store for what you need to fix up the professor?"
Hopping out of the van she announced, "I'll catch up to you through the basement entrance in the diner." With that she turned and jogged away toward the street.
Before I could protest her going off alone there was a loud grinding sound. I looked through the windshield and watched the base of the wall begin to tilt inward. It soon became obvious that the wall was actually a secreted entry to a ramp that sloped down and under the building. With the wall fully raised Stu eased the van through the portal which began to close the moment we'd cleared the alley.
After about a hundred yards the ramp leveled off into a cavernous garage. The van pulled up to a large metal door and came to a stop. "Last stop, gang," Stu voiced.
Upon the door there was a painting of large blue butterfly and beneath that were stenciled letters reading The Butterfly Net. Stu pressed a button on the dashboard of the van and climbed out onto the pavement. Within a couple of minutes the lot of us had joined him and were standing in front of the door.
When the door swung open we were greeted by two figures, a man and a woman. Unable to contain her excitement, Susan ran up to Ben and hugged him. I stood still aghast as the woman stepped through the door to greet us.
Through trembling lips I muttered, "Rosie?"
"Get a room, you two!" Brock chuckled as he herded Faye past us.
The distant wail of sirens signaled the advancing parade of emergency equipment racing from the nearby civilian side of the airport. Without a word we began to pile into the vehicle, an over-sized delivery van. To a person, we did not want to be there to answer any questions or to explain our presence there.
Michelle grinned at Baxter as he ducked his head into the van. "Use enough dynamite there, Baxter?" she asked parodying a well known movie quote. Her smile, however, quickly faded, "Where's David? He made it off the plane ... didn't he?"
Baxter shook his head and replied, "I don't know. When I went through the door he was at the console. He must have been trying to grab the original connector."
"Did anyone else get off the plane?" queried Stu Jankowski who was sitting behind the steering wheel.
"If they did, they probably went in there," I offered pointing across the debris-riddled tarmac at the building which was completely engulfed in flames.
There was a sudden flash of pulverized runway followed by the whistling of a ricocheting bullet which slammed into the side of the van. In a trice the sound of the gun shot caught up with the projectile as it echoed across the airfield.
I shoved Michelle into the van and dove in after her even as Stu shifted into gear and slammed the accelerator to the floor. I heard the sound of a second shot but it must have missed hitting the van. I just managed to close the sliding side door when shards of glass showered onto me when its window shattered into the back of the van.
The spinning rear wheels of the van spat up gravel amid a cloud of dust before they gained traction. The vehicle lurched forward and picked up speed when it reached the paved surface of the road.
We barely had time to feel good about our escape when Susan shrieked, "Professor Jordan! You've been shot!"
Jordan, slumped on the floor behind the driver's seat, was clutching a blood soaked wound near his shoulder. He winced and gritted his teeth, "It hurts but ... I'm okay. I don't think it hit anything ... vital."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Brock O'Day as he grabbed a cargo blanket and spread it on the floor. "Lie down, Professor and let me take a look at it."
Susan helping with his legs, Brock placed his hand around the man's back and eased him into a supine position onto the blanket. Easing his arm free he grunted when he saw that the palm of his supporting hand was covered in blood. "Well, at least there's good news," he uttered, "the bullet passed completely through."
"That's hardly encouraging, Sergeant," Jordan grimaced, "knowing that I have an extra ... hole in my body."
"Yes. There is the matter of these entry and exits wounds," O'Day responded, "and they need to be treated."
"On the strip there's a small convenience store." Michelle offered. "We can pick up some bandages and antiseptic there."
She looked at me as if anticipation what I might say but I queried anyway. "Strip? Route 66?"
She nodded, "Yes. There's a motel and a diner too ... just like the ones in my dream." She shrugged and added, "Coincidence?"
"No, my dear," said Jordan, "it's not a coincidence. Your dream is not a dream, but a subconscious memory that I resurrected in your mind." He looked over at Susan and appeared to be taking great care in how he phrased his next words, "It was something that happened to you when you were not ... ah, yourself. I hope that makes sense."
When she nodded I could see that Michelle understood, as I had, the implications of Jordan's words. He was referring to a buried and forgotten memory of something that had occurred when she was the embodiment of ... Susan Parsons. As one we studied Susan who was watching us and listening but not understanding. Jordan was wise to avoid the suggestion of transplanted minds. As confusing as it was to Michelle and me, to that poor girl it would be not be healthy for her to discover that she was somebody else.
I hadn't even noticed that were passing by a few scattered buildings until Stu turned the van into a narrow alley between ... the diner and a motel. He brought the vehicle to a stop in front a brick facade and said over his shoulder, "Michelle, can you hop out and run to the convenience store for what you need to fix up the professor?"
Hopping out of the van she announced, "I'll catch up to you through the basement entrance in the diner." With that she turned and jogged away toward the street.
Before I could protest her going off alone there was a loud grinding sound. I looked through the windshield and watched the base of the wall begin to tilt inward. It soon became obvious that the wall was actually a secreted entry to a ramp that sloped down and under the building. With the wall fully raised Stu eased the van through the portal which began to close the moment we'd cleared the alley.
After about a hundred yards the ramp leveled off into a cavernous garage. The van pulled up to a large metal door and came to a stop. "Last stop, gang," Stu voiced.
Upon the door there was a painting of large blue butterfly and beneath that were stenciled letters reading The Butterfly Net. Stu pressed a button on the dashboard of the van and climbed out onto the pavement. Within a couple of minutes the lot of us had joined him and were standing in front of the door.
When the door swung open we were greeted by two figures, a man and a woman. Unable to contain her excitement, Susan ran up to Ben and hugged him. I stood still aghast as the woman stepped through the door to greet us.
Through trembling lips I muttered, "Rosie?"
The End of Dreams
№ 2112
5 comments:
I can sense we are nearing the end of this chapter of the journey.
It is good to know that Ben, Susan, Michelle, Michael and Rosie are all well. Or, as well as can be expected.
It is also good to know that our protagonists have survived.
Interestingly, we began with Ben's "life" and shifted to Michael's. You did that masterfully.
A question now might be, How will it end? I can hardly wait.
Jack and I are on the same page as usual. I too can't wait to see how this ends. I'm sure it will be fantastic as this entire story has been fantastic.
Have a terrific day. :)
Jack,
You are right, the story is indeed winding down.
Ben, Susan and Rosie - ARE they well?
We shall see ... we shall see ...
Sandee,
Thanks for the kind words and for your continued support.
Mark,
... okay.?
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