A Hot Day in New London
Chapter 8
by Casey (Jedi at aemail4u.com)
2/1/04
General Disclaimer
Sorry, it's a bit late, Mary. I was going to put it up
earlier this weekend just for you but things just kept piling up.
Enjoy. (Hehe...I can't wait to post chapter 10.....I'm having so
much fun writing it.) Eh, a bit short, but the next chapter makes
up for that.
The two in the front of the hovercar had been in a muted
conversation for quite some time, talking in tones low enough to
be just barely distinguishable from behind. 'Yeah,' Josh thought
to himself, 'I can still hear you.' Not like he was hearing
anything new. He heard her announcement. Yet he already had
known; they had both had a peanut-butter and jelly commemorative
sandwich to celebrate their letters last night. Both remembered
the sweet-sticky taste from their earlier American days at the
Technologies -- many times foregoing Friday lunches to allow them
both to leave early.
He understood how she felt. Leaving America had
been hard enough for him, even with nothing left, but never could
he compare that to what she must feel about returning. Returning would
mean giving up all that she’d created: the friendships, the
hardships, her new life. Much more than he had.
He began another deep scribble through a previous error and
suddenly a sharp sting pervaded his grip. He inhaled reflexively
and glanced up momentarily to check if either had noticed. Nope.
Still in their own conversation.
Putting his worn pencil down for a moment, he glanced at his
right hand, which had previously been scribbling ideas, strains of
thought, and theories into his equally worn notebook. His eyes
opened slightly wider and his jaw became loose, but never
dropped. ‘Just when did that get there?’ Two dark parallel slits
of blood had appeared on his palm.
Looking closer at it, he pieced together the pain. Two hardened
scabs had become saturated with sweat, and the constant rubbing of his
pencil had been all too happy to rub the miniature wound open. ‘Guess
now I really understand the salt in the wound concept,’ he thought
comically to himself, before remembering the single object that had made
those tiny engravings in his palm.
Suddenly grimacing, he thought, 'I guess no more writing for
me, at least until it closes up again....'
From clear skies to dreary weather, Fenwick plowed through the
air. Instead of flying at higher altitudes that would allow for a
speedier return, he had stayed low, determined to stretch his
time out as much as he could before returning to Moriarty.
Patience was a virtue, or so it was said.
After inspecting his hands, the young engineer leaned lazily
against the door, having long since removed his seatbelt.
Finally, without his work to distract him, he lifted his face to
stare out of the window at the other side of the hovercar. It was
Holmes’ side, and through the windows he could see grey skies.
"Grey skies?"
"Huh?" a tired voice said next to him.
Turning his head so that he could face the back of the
inspector’s seat, and noticing Holmes had turned towards him as
well, he continued from what he had meant to keep in his
thoughts, unable to back out. "I’m definitely seeing grey skies
again, right? I mean, this place is looking more like New London
than New London does."
Rubbing his chin, Holmes interjected, "Why, yes, it does. And
from the internal map, we should be approaching the northern
shores of Britain within the hour."
Josh frowned, resting his chin on his propped up hand, already
sinking back into contemplation.
Struggling to keep her eyes open, Lestrade slowly answered
through clenched teeth, "And if Fennie here goes any slower I’m
going to personally break every digit twice over...." But then she
grimaced. "From a ‘stealthy distance,’ of course. I guess
Moriarty does have some marginal compassion for his followers."
"I don’t believe compassion is the right word, Lestrade,"
Holmes said knowingly. "'Use' would fit perfectly in that
assumption."
"Well, whatever it is. I might need to get closer, anyways. It
looks a bit stormy up ahead...."
Nodding slightly, eyes fixated out the opposite window, Josh
softly murmured, "Uh-huh...."
Outside the hovercar, the wind picked up unpredictably, gently
buffeting the car onwards.
TO BE CONTINUED
Back to part 7
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