Posted in Tending the Stones for the Lock

Tending the Stones for the Lock XVIII


18th part of the new weekly story.  (1st Part)   The inspiration for this came from an off hand comment I made on Facebook, and since people seemed interested I decided to follow through.  Happy Reading. 

(1st Part) (2nd Part)  (3rd Part) (4th Part) (5th Part) (6th Part) (7th Part) (8th Part) (9th Part)(Part 10) (Part 11)(Part 12)(Part 13)(Part 14)(Part 15)(Part 16)(Part 17)(Part 18) (Part 19)

Meredith collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes, another day spent running around this stupid city looking for her stupid mother.  She heard a knock on her door and moaned.  If it was Basil Webb she was going to slam the door in his face.  He had taken her to the same ten hotels again, and talked to the same ten desk clerks again, and gotten the same ten “nyets” again.  The last clerk had looked like he was about to call the cops. Meredith moaned again as the knocking started again followed by a voice definitely not Basil Webb’s.

“Mrs. Wallace?”

Meredith huffed and got off the bed and walked to the door.

“Mrs. Wallace?”  A tall man dressed in a suit and tie was standing outside of her hotel room.

Meredith opened the door.  “Can I help you?”

“Well not exactly I am here to kidnap you and use that fact against your mother for our own ends.”

“Huh.”  Meredith took in everything at once, the man’s immaculately tailored suit, his crisp starched white shirt, the silk handkerchief  in his breast pocket and foot long knife with ornate etching held in his finely manicured hand.

 

Emily Bartloski sighed as she put took off her comfortable shoes and put them up in the reclining chair.  While the C.I.A. had it issues at least when they used private air planes they never skimped on the seating.  The plane had taken off without a hitch and now that they were cruising east towards Mongolia the sound of the jet engines was no worse then on a commercial passenger jet, much better then that rickety old Soviet era cargo plane they had been on before.  Emily closed her eyes and meditated for a few minutes she would have gone deeper but the sound of raised voices disturbed her.

“All I am asking for is a little help.”

“I am not a stewardess I am a mechanic so you can go pound sand.”

“Stewardess, how is helping me hand out food to everyone calling you a stewardess.”

“Its not something I do buddy, you want to pass out food, feel free, just don’t try and rope me into it.”

With that Holly stomped up the row between the chairs and up the ladder to the flight deck.

“All I asked was if she would help me pass out food to everyone.”  Brodie’s voice said from the galley area to the rear.

Emily sighed he wished these young people were not so high strung, the made a big deal out of the littlest things and forgot the importance of the really important things in life.  But she recalled that at one point she might have been the same way.  She tried to meditate again but was distracted by the noises coming from the galley and the person making them.  Brodie.  She had not had time to really discuss any of this since he had been forced onto the plane and not given a choice about continuing on with the journey when he had made it very clear all he wanted was to go home.  Slipping on her shoes and securing her cane she made her way back toward the galley.  She found Brodie going to town on a huge chunk of ice with a pick, she watched for a few minutes as he seemed to be venting his frustrations very well on the piece of frozen water.

“Trying to make sure that we all have cold drinks if we want one?”

“Huh?”  Brodie said looking up from the deep tray of ice that was in much smaller pieces now. “Yeah just trying to be helpful.”

“You always are Brodie and you have been a great deal of support on this trip.”  Emily saw him start to protest. “No I mean it, and I am sorry you got roped into this.”  She motioned around the airplane. “I know you wanted to go home and now you are stuck going further than I have any right to ask you to go.”  Brodie looked down at the tray of ice. “But let me tell you for someone that does not know what they were getting themselves into, you have handled yourself remarkably well.”

Brodie shrugged.  “Maybe it is good I could not leave you.”

“What do you mean dear?”

Brodie looked at the tray of ice and pushed around the small pieces of ice with the tip of the pick for a few seconds. “I do not know if you know this but I have always played it safe in my life.  I have always taken the sure route, I have never tried to make waves or stand out in any way and now.”

Emily listened knowing now was not the time to push him but to listen.

“Now I am in a semi stolen C.I.A. plane flying towards Mongolia of all places with three monks, my boss, a airplane mechanic who does not seem to like me very much and a cigar smoking woman pilot who has dubious connections with the Russian mob.”  Brodie looked up at Emily.  “This is far from safe or sure.”

Emily nodded.  “Yes I know all these things are technically true.  But about Holly, yes she has a temper, and she flies off the handle suddenly, but she has had a hard life but once you get to know her, and she becomes your friend there is no one better to have, she will always come thru for you and she will always be there to lift you up should you fall.”

“But she won’t serve drinks with me.”  Brodie said jokingly.

“But she will not serve drinks with you.” Emily said.  “You do not happen to have a  Coke anywhere?”  She said looking at the shelves in the galley.

“I will look but we need to sit down and do a blood pressure reading and make sure you are up to date on the medicine regime.”

“Brodie you are to committed to your job.”  Emily said smiling.

 

(1st Part) (2nd Part)  (3rd Part) (4th Part) (5th Part) (6th Part) (7th Part) (8th Part) (9th Part)(Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12)(Part 13)(Part 14)(Part 15)(Part 16)

Not crazy about the title, any suggestions will be duly considered.

The problem I have discovered with this type of writing is if I commit to something in the story there is no taking it back I just have to go with is and write my way out of it.  

If you would like to read my last weekly story, A Disinclined Purveyor of Sequential Art here it is. (Written in 2013, the same year my wife left me, so I was a different person back then, and I hope I have learned a lot about writing since then.)

If you want to see one of  my complete books try Disconnect in the Outfitters Universe.  

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My Response:   The prophecy stated that in 60 years if the Stones were not properly aligned then the world would fall under the sway of the demon king for 1000 years. 1956 21 year old Emily the chosen one starts the quest. She arranges half the Stones around the planet, but then falls in love and life happens. Now it is 59 years later, Emily’s husband of 58 years passed away and one of the monks has found Emily and reminds her that she is the chosen one and needs to complete her task. Anyone interested?

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My writings about the world, sci-fi, fantasy, and outright lies.

Witty observation, disparaging remark, question for A.A., well this is your chance.

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