The Return of the Scott

PART 21
The whole family stayed all day Friday and we hit what sights Omaha had to offer, there is actually a world renowned Zoo in town and much of it is open in the winter. The musical “Man of La Mancha” was also in town and we caught an evening performance. I would have been fine with wearing the same gown I had worn the previous evening for the Orpheum Theater but it was some sort of feminine faux pas and my sisters took me out shopping for a last minute dress. On BLACK FRIDAY mind you! And since my mother wasn’t with us this time, I had to pay for this one. And Jesus freaking Christ don't women really get the short end of the stick when it comes to affordable clothes? Or, as Marilyn M might say, "The fuzzy end of the lollipop."

Saturday eventually came though, and the clan had to filter back to their normal lives. My sisters to their jobs and universities and my father to Offutt and his plane back to his command. Aunt Alane and her husband stayed until Sunday morning, and by Sunday evening all my roommates had returned and life began to become normal again. Thomas had stayed only long enough to meet half of them and they put him through a worse interrogation than the Naval Academy admissions board had. But he passed inspection, if only just barely.

Monday morning I retook the Scott Company.

I had worked over the plans to my parent’s new house and earned my fee almost right away in cost savings alone. The architect had been, as most professionals are in rural Virginia, a friend of a friend of a second cousin. Nepotism works on occasion and it had been a big part of my life for years but I always pushed myself to work harder and better to make up for it so that I wouldn’t be seen as standing on someone else’s shoulders. This mook however didn’t seem to have that drive and had left off several little things like, oh say the connection to the damn SEPTIC tank! He was fired almost immediately, of course, but I probably saved his life. First week of his well deserved retirement and my father can’t take a dump because of someone else’s incompetence…

Anyway, the advance was paid to me and I sent the check and the manufactured invoice to Scott headquarters. Two days before the holiday we received notification that it had been cashed. And DeGeas howled with glee when he told me. There was a monthly partners meeting, the next of which was scheduled for December 1st and we both made plans to attend. Though it appeared I needed to ask my mommy for permission first.

“I don’t like this at all Katherine,” she said as she helped roll up my nylons for me to put on. “You don’t need to put yourself through this stress. The baby is due any minute.”

“The due date is next week,” I countered as I began buttoning up my blouse. Damn it all, this had fit two weeks ago!

“Those are guidelines young lady, there is quite a bit of wiggle room each way. It’s not like the expiration date on a milk carton. Martha was two weeks overdue and Thomas was almost a month early. Never was one for waiting my boy.”

“That sounds about right,” I agreed with her and tried not to grin.

“You don’t have to do this now, Katherine. Is the point I’m trying to make. I know you wish to honor your father but it has waited ten years it can wait a few months more.”

“No it can’t mother,” I countered. “This is the partner's meeting where they decide on how many and how much of a yearend bonus to hand to each other. Potentially waiting a few weeks or months until after the baby is born and I recover, could cost me millions.”

“Still, can’t you send a proxy, your lawyer perhaps, he seems particularly competent?”

“I agree, and I intend to let him carry as much of the burden of the company as I can shove on his shoulders but I need to win it back first and for that my presence is very certainly required. I understand my limits, and my own situation. I don’t intend to put on a hard hat and go charging off to Outer Mongolia to build a bridge while I’m nine months pregnant. I’ll show up, assert my rights and hand over interim control to DeGeas right afterwards.”

“I’m going with you,” she said handing me my heels. “Just give me a few minutes to change.”

“Professor Ryan, that’s not necessary,” I said trying to sooth her. “One of the girls will drive me and DeGeas and about twenty of HIS partners will be there waiting for me. I’m sure you have things to do.”

“Yes Katherine, I do, and this is one of them,” she said resolutely.

“I need to leave in about twenty minutes,” I said trying to discourage her.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” she said to reassure me.

Damn me if she wasn’t

***

I had held the line at taking her rental to the Scott Headquarters. It has been almost seven months since I had been inside Rocinante and while a part of me hated to expose her to the salt and slush a previous snowstorm had made of Omaha’s streets, a bigger part of me needed my faithful steed as I went charging off to battle my enemies. So nostalgia won over paranoia, besides, there were several fine touchless car-washes on the way back. Mother was quite correct that I would not be able to fit behind the steering wheel, though I made the attempt so that I could be sure. With some time, a heated garage and a full tool set, I could probably re-rig it so that my girth could be accommodated. I only needed the wheel to adjust a few inches up as is standard practice on newer cars. But by the time I figured all that out the baby would be born anyway and render it moot. So I gritted my teeth and walked over to the passenger side to get in and my mother drove my muscle car.

The ignition, specifically the noise of the powerful engine startled her, but only momentarily. The seatbelt gave her more pause.

“It’s a racing harness,” I said answering her obvious unasked question. “It’s much safer than the regular three point seatbelt.”

“I’m sure it is, it looks just like the adult sized straps for a child’s safety seat, which by the way you are NEVER PUTTING in this car. How do you work it?”

“Here let me show you,” I said leaning over and adjusting her straps.

“Thomas and his toys,” she said annoyed as the last bit was fitted. “And why does he need such a dangerous sounding thing as a ‘racing harness'? Was he anticipating rolling his car as he raced for pink slips down some dark alley?”

“Um,” I said trying to come up with the best answer that wouldn’t make me sound like a maniac. “I don’t think Thomas would ever risk Rocinante on a bet.”

That he wasn’t sure he could win!

“Hmm,” she grumbled at me as we pulled out of the driveway and onto the street. “The General, when we were younger of course, once took me on a ride along in an Abrams Tank. They even let me drive it for a bit on the range, this is very similar.”

“This goes slightly faster than a main battle tank,” I said, slightly offended. “Though it probably uses approximately the same amount of steel... and fuel.”

We made small talk on the way to the office. We went over several of the checklists for the oncoming delivery, argued over the placement of the nursery again, and otherwise took my mind off the oncoming battle ahead. Even if it wouldn’t be fought with bullets and bayonets it would certainly be bloody, though hopefully, not literally. We pulled up to the curb of Scott Headquarters and mother got out and came over to my side to help me out. Afterwards she got back in and drove to the parking lot across the street. I waddled into the lobby and tried to look older than I was. The suit, the makeup and the baby bump I hoped all combined would present the appearance of a confident adult woman, and not let these strangers know about the scared little girl beneath the facade.

Courage is a funny thing. It comes in all forms, and goes whenever it pleases. I had contemplated it over many years, ever since I had made my decision to follow my father into military service. It’s not just about charging machine gun nests or covering a grenade blast with your body to protect your squad mates. The military expects, and generally receives, a large amount of physical courage. Despite all the glaring and public exceptions over the years, most do not run at the sound of battle or flee from the oncoming enemy. Fighting, when you got right down with it was easy enough.

But moral and spiritual courage? That was a much rarer commodity. I had an offer on the table of two hundred million dollars. I did not NEED to do what I was about to. No one was pointing guns at me one way or the other. When I got in that elevator with my team of lawyers all I had to do was press the button to 18 instead of to 20 and I could walk into the Oracle’s offices and get my money. He would be pleased enough, DeGeas would lose his opportunity to gloat but would understand in time, mother would certainly approve. With that much money I could rest by the beach on some private island forever, and insure that my daughter wanted for nothing for forever and a day.

Who was I to take up this burden? It was my birthright on one hand, but really someone else’s on the other. Even if I had a legal right to it as owner of this body, did I have a moral right to it? Even on my family’s behalf? Assuming today was successful I would find myself owner of a great company but what the hell did I know about that? I was just a kid! I was studying engineering sure and I knew how to knock a few boards together but even if all those people in the boardroom were lazy larcenous bastards they probably knew ten times what I knew. I looked around the lobby at all the people that were walking about, suited professionals scurrying to the next assignment and also blue-collar workers doing their menial duty. The three men and one woman at the security desk, what did they care about who was in charge upstairs and long as the paychecks kept coming.

And how the hell was I supposed to know how to do that!? DeGeas seemed confident enough that something could be salvaged but who is to say that my actions today wouldn’t see the total end of the company. These people, particularly in THIS economy, depended upon the paycheck to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table for their children. Who was I to put that at risk?

“Are you ready?” asked DeGeas as he waddled up himself followed by his team and my mother behind them. Side by side we looked like two beached whales but then, I would be losing a lot of weight soon.

“No,” I answered as my breathing became a little labored and my heart started beating a mile a minute.

“I understand, this is probably very stressful for you, particularly now,” said DeGeas as he rested an arm on my shoulder and smiled at me to give some avuncular comfort. “Take all the time you need…are you ready now?”

“Ha,” I gasped, laughing despite myself and then nodding. “Yes.”

“Well then,” he said indicating the bank of elevators. “Let’s go claim your fortune.”

***

When you are traveling in a group and your assembled clothes are worth more than some houses, security guards are wary to stop you and ask where you think you are going. We were able to get all the way to the doors of the main conference room before anyone thought to interrupt us.

“May I help you,” asked a young short haired female receptionist wearing a headset and a blouse two sizes too small.

“We’re here for the partners' meeting,” said DeGeas taking the lead for us. “I know we’re early but we wanted to get our seats first.”

“I’m sorry sir,” she said in that professionally pleasing voice held by all receptionists everywhere. “But the partners' meeting is restricted to senior partners only.”

“And their secretaries,” He said smiling at her. “Says so right in the agreement, of course that was written before all these little computers and personal data assistants got created.”

“All you,” she said with a wave of her hand. “And only ONE secretary?” she said nodding at me. “And besides as I said it is open to only SENIOR partners and I’ve never seen any of you before.”

“Young lady,” said DeGeas bringing out some papers from his case. “I think if you’ll look here and--”

“I am the partner,” I said interrupting him and ripping the pages from his hands. “And these are MY secretaries. My name is Jessica Scott,” I said plumping down the sheaf of paper on her desk and pulling out my passport to show her. “I own 51.4% of the shares of this company, and today I will assert my voting rights. If you have been here for any time at all no doubt you know about my ownership and won’t have to refer to the most recent copy of the ownership rolls in front of you. I may be young, and female, but I intend to get older, and am certainly SENIOR enough as far as you are concerned.”

“I… that is…” She said trying to find her words.

“I am not a vindictive woman by preference so I will not make an issue out of your treatment and assumptions about me thus far. But I would take it amiss… Miss Reed,” I said as I looked down at her imperiously. “If you ruin my little surprise for the other partners by letting them know what and who is lying in wait for them inside.

“Are…” she looked up at me hesitantly and then broke out in a small smile. “Are you going to fire them?”

“A distinct possibility,” I said losing some of my ire.

“Our phone system is very temperamental, pieces of it go down for … HOURS, at a time. I may have some difficulty contacting anyone in the immediate future, anyway” she replied.

I was almost sure she winked but it was probably a nervous twitch. She was, after all, under some stress.

***

I sat at the head of the table, and faced the door, with my mother and DeGeas on either side of me. We had brought five other lawyers to have as back up, two of whom had concealed carry firearms permits and had perhaps spent more time in the desert than they had in law school. The conference room could seat about 30 but I didn’t know how many of my partners would be arriving so just we three sat and the rest stood at our shoulders and tried to look imposing.

The walls on the left side of the room were filled with pictures of completed projects. Sanitized corporate displays that had none of the life or energy of the Scott family archives, the Scotts themselves were on the right wall. Starting at the door and every few feet afterwards there were oil paintings of the managing partner. Henry, Peter, Martin, Roger, Peter again, William…Martin again, and then followed a veritable catalogue of men, and no women, I noticed, who had been in charge the last decade. Seven in ten years, but they had all lasted long enough to have their faces immortalized. The furthest from the start, of course, must be the man in whose chair I was currently sitting.

The partners started arriving in ones and twos a few minutes before the official start. They all paused when they saw my party but few of them said anything. Every once in a while one of the braver ones would ask who we were and DeGeas would answer with a simple ‘the managing partner will explain everything soon’. The assembled engineers meekly checked their phones and their PDA’s trying to find out if they missed a memo but were content to take their chairs and wait to see what happened. There was only one other female on their end of the table, and she was what the business world referred to as a twofer. An African American women, she could count twice when the corporate officers wanted to appear liberal and accommodating to discrimination laws. Most of the men were white and old, graying if the hair wasn’t gone. And only one of them, a hawkish looking man in the corner appeared like he had done any real work in years. Eventually the man who thought he was king walked in last, as fitted his apparent station.

“Who the fuck are you,” he said harshly. “And what are you doing in my chair?” he was seventy if he was a day and was probably looking forward to the same golden parachute his six predecessors had enjoyed. He was tall and thin to the point of emaciation the skin hanged loose on his gaunt features and despite that, reminded me strongly of the villain Skeletor from the “Masters of the Universe.” DeGeas had given me all his personal information and I didn’t have any proof that he was an actual evil man. But certainly his opening statement did not endear him to me.

“Mr. Nelson,” I said calmly indicating with my hand. “Please take a seat.”

“I asked you a question girl,” he said defiantly staying standing.

“Who the hell I am,” I answered him briskly. “Is Jessica …Katherine… SCOTT. And I am the majority owner of this company.”

Pandemonium broke out at my statement, while all the assembled partners turned to each other and started talking at once. Nelson tried speaking up over the shouting but he did not have a young man’s lungs and I couldn’t make out what he was saying. After giving them a good ten seconds I put fingers to my mouth and gave off a sharp and surprisingly loud whistle.

“ wwwwwwwhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiipppee!!!!!!!!!!”

“There are several government identifications,” said DeGeas calmly, “and my associates will begin passing out copies for all of you. But that may be unnecessary. Age has not changed her that much. Many of you have been with the company for decades, surely some of you recognize her, she also looks very much like her late mother.”

“She could be anyone.”

“A fake.”

“What the hell are we going to do now?”

“I told you we should have punched out last year.”

‘HOW old is she?”

“It doesn’t mean shit who she is!”

“My resume is up to date, how about yours?”

“Like I ever looked at the old man’s wife, I was just out of grad school then.”

“His first wife.”

“I just put in a pool!”

“ wwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiipppeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!”

“And who are you,” asked Nelson looking at my lawyer after the others had calmed down.

“My name is Bernard DeGeas,” he said plainly.

“The DeGeas!” one of them shouted shocked.

“We’re fucked.”

“Game over man, game over.”

“I’ve only just HEARD about him, never laid eyes. He only leaves that office in Woodman once a geologic age.”

“Then how did WE get so lucky?”

“ENOUGH!!” I shouted out and would have stood to my feet aggressively if it wasn’t for the passenger I was carrying. Sometimes real life just won’t accommodate appropriately dramatic moments. So I settled for slamming my fist down on the polished marble table.

“Say I believe that you are who you say you are,” said Nelson as he approached me ponderously. “That doesn’t matter a bit, your voting rights have been revoked. Now get out of my chair before I have security remove you!”

“Security,” said one of my armed guards while he unbuttoned his suit jacket and showed his holster. “Would have a problem with that.”

“The police then,” Nelson continued as some spit escaped from his mouth in rage.

“The police,” DeGeas added. “Would have even greater a problem with that. Leaving aside their own feelings, we are here completely legally. Indeed the case could, and would be made sir, that YOU are trespassing.”

“I’ve worked here for forty years!” he tossed back angrily.

“The last two of which, Mr. Nelson, you have led this company to near ruin.”

“It’s the economy, things will pick up in a year or two. They always have.”

“I agree,” I said reentering the conversation. “But not for you.”

“You don’t WORK here, you can’t exercise your voting rights!”

I held his gaze steadily while DeGeas slid over a piece of paper with several relevant sections highlighted. Nelson blinked first then curiosity got the better of his rage and he looked at the proffered document.

“This says Katherine Ryan, not Jessica Scott!” he said tossing it back in our face.

“A legal pseudonym,” said DeGeas retrieving the paper and carefully arranging it back in his case. “I have all the relevant paperwork on that as well. As long as you do not intend fraud you can call yourself anything you want. Except, of course, president of this company.”

“It’s a fake,” he continued belligerently.

“The check has been cashed and the money is sitting in your… sadly depleted of late, accounts at First National. My friends over there have already confirmed it. Jessica Katherine has billed and brought in revenue to the company and, as such, the punitive actions taken against her 10 years ago no longer apply. She holds an absolute majority and you sir… are voted out of office.”

“And who’s in? Her?” he said pointing his finger at me like he wanted me to bite it off. “She doesn’t look old enough to be left on her own without a babysitter.”

“In the interregnum I will be in charge day to day with Miss Scott in overall command. I’ve run several of these little house cleanings before,” said DeGeas looking down at his manicured nails disdainfully.

“And what do you know about an engineering company you fat fuck?

“Very little,” my lawyer agreed. “But when was the last time you worked in the field? And at this level of corporate governance there isn’t much difference. I’ll have minions to help me out until Jessica Katherine is ready.”

“I won’t stand for it! I’ll sue!” said Nelson pounding his own fist on the table next to me and knocking over one of the glasses next to the water pitcher.

The hawk like man I had noticed earlier in the corner stood up at that. He was in his mid fifties but looked very fit except for a series of scars on the left side of his face. “’Lord’ Nelson,” he said disdainfully. “I’ll remind you of your oath. This is the Scott heir, and you owe her your duty.”

“That was years ago, Ross,” said Nelson turning around to face him. “It will never hold up in court."

“Maybe not,” the scarred man agreed. “But nothing else you have will either. Now take what’s left of your dignity back to your office and clean it out. I, for one, welcome our new teenage overlord… overlady. Has to be better than you’ve managed since you took the big chair.”

“You’re not even supposed to be here, Ross, your division head is--”

“Sleeping off his three martini breakfast,” he broke in. “As he has done for years, why don’t you go catch up?”

Nelson seemed to turn all his anger from me toward the new interloper and he rushed across the room and started, tried starting anyway, to land punches on the slightly younger man. Eventual this Ross got tired of the game and punched him back hard in the gut with Nelson collapsing soon afterwards. Ross then calmly took out his cell phone and dialed some numbers.

“I need an ambulance and paramedics in the conference room on the twentieth floor, Mr. Nelson has had an attack,” With that he slid the phone back into his jacket pocket and returned to his chair ignoring the moans of his previous boss. “You have the floor I believe Miss Scott.”

***

The medics took Mr. Nelson away. He was conscious and still muttering the occasional curse but the fight seemed to be taken out of him. The proposal was made for me to take over the position of president and managing partner and was seconded and carried almost unanimously. The only ones abstaining were already on their way out the door like heretics fleeing the vengeful wrath of the inquisition. The voting was a mere formality, and I was pleased to have so much support from my new subordinates. Even if it was only a result of their fear of being let go.

“Gentlemen, and lady,” I said nodding at the lone woman among them. “Some in my position would fire the lot of you, or at least remove you from any position of authority. I, however, do not have the luxury of doing so, coming to the company so early, in many respects, and so late, in so many others. But my inexperience is only temporary; soon enough if you shirk you will be found out and removed. For the time being, I leave you with these commands. Do not cheat, do not lie, do not steal... Obey my orders and those of my representatives. But also remember! I have no need of walking corpses in my board room. Do not be afraid to question my logic or bring to me concerns… as long as it is done with respect. Those of you who work hard and bring wealth into the company will be rewarded those of you who do not… will not. We will meet again in January. I hope you will still be here when we do.”

The meeting broke up and the remaining partners fled the scene as quickly as dignity would permit. Ross was one of the last out, when we made eye contact he gave me a curt nod and then gathering up his papers he slowly followed his coworkers out the door.

“Well,” said my mother taking my hand in hers. “That went well.”

“Hggg,” DeGeas grunted as he worked his way through the monthly reports the division heads left behind. “Were not alive yet, depending upon which valuation we use you’re underwater. The company is into First National for a quarter billion dollars. And that’s just the largest of the liabilities; I haven’t found a tithe of them yet. And the income is hardly enough to pay operating costs let alone service the bank loan. I’m going to have to do some juggling to make these bills work out.”

“You’ll find a way,” I smiled at him as I got up from my chair carefully and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Just make sure you pay yourself first. I never could have done this without you.”

“Oh, you’ll get my bill, don’t you worry about THAT!”

“One of these days Mr. DeGeas you will have to tell me the story of why these people are so frightened of you,” I asked jokingly.

“Someday my dear,” he answered me somberly, losing his smile as he went back to the pages. “But not today.”

Mother and I left the men to their work and returned to the reception area outside. I gave the young woman behind the desk a smile and she gave me a thumbs up which I took as a good sign. The walk to the elevators was punctuated by little bits of conversation that I couldn’t help but overhear. Things like ‘that’s her, and ‘the Scott’ and ‘kneed old man Nelson in the nuts!’ The last of which was untrue since it was Ross who had done the honors, and to his gut instead, but I knew trying to deny the office gossip would only add fuel to the fire. When we got to the ground floor mother went to get the car and I found a seat in the lobby. The people down here hadn’t got the word yet, I guessed, and were going about their business just like they had hours ago when I first arrived. Even though my own little world had just changed forever the quote unquote normal people were getting by just fine. I hoped I didn’t let them down.

I was helped into the car when Mother opened the door for me again. It’s sad, but I was sort of going to miss all this concierge service after I popped. I just hoped I hadn’t got TOO used to it. Boot camp after all was only a few years away.

“Since you’re a net debtor now,” said mother whimsically as she turned up the heater. “Let me treat you to lunch. The girls say there are some good places in something called the ‘old market’ down by the river.”

“I’ve already missed my morning classes,” I said reluctantly, as nice as a lunch in a fancy restaurant sounded. “I don’t want to miss afternoon too. Just stop by the Burger King drive through on the way to the house. On second thought, it’s probably a bad idea to eat in the car. I ju…I see Thomas just redid the leather. I’ll make a sandwich or something when we get home.”

“Are you sure?” she asked as we turned onto Dodge Street. “I could give you a note from your mother to give your teachers.”

“You’re not technically speaking my mother,” I said accompanied by a pain in my gut. “Not anymore.”

“Katherine, you have been calling me ‘mother’ for weeks, and that speech at Thanksgiving... Even after the annulment, I thought that that’s what you wanted.”

“I do! Very much so,” I answered her forlornly.

“Then let us never speak otherwise again. You are one of my daughters and I will treat you just like I would any of the rest of them,” she said as she made a turn to head downtown. “And if I want to spoil you on special ocas---”

CRASH!!

BOOM!!

CRCRICRI!!

BER BER BER!!

When the car stopped I realized I had hit my head pretty badly, and there was blood coming down and into my left eye. When I came a little bit out of my daze and tried to clear my vision I also realized my left arm had been broken, or at the very least severely injured. I didn’t see what had hit us, but whatever it was it had been large and with enough velocity to do serious damage to my baby.

My BABY!

I grabbed my belly with my uninjured hand and tried to do a self assessment. There were no apparent wounds though I was bruised up quite a bit, and for the first time in almost forever I didn’t feel the almost constant background movement I had gotten used to. Of all the times for her not to kick!

“Mom,” I said turning to my mother and trying to get her attention. “Mom!” I shouted again. “Wake up! You have to wake up.”

“Wa…what,” she moaned out “Jimmy?”

“Mom, please you have to get out and help me.”

“What?” she said as she turned to me her eyes coming a bit more in focus. “What happened?”

“Car accident…” I said as I winced in pain. “You have to get out.”

“I can’t seem to…the straps,” she said fumbling with her harness. I leaned over as best I could to help get her undone. And had to undo most of my own as well to get enough reach, which, what with being one handed and all, took some doing. Eventually she was free and she opened her door to get out of the car. She stumbled out, and fell on her knees in the cold wintery slush, stunned again.

“Mom!” I shouted once more. “You have to get up.”

“Right,” she said as she used both her hands to get to her feet and once standing instinctually slammed the door shut before she left.

Trouble was, and I guess I can’t really blame her even after all these years, what we both didn’t realize was that Roxy had ended up on the ledge of an overpass. And that motion, coupled with the lack of weight on her side was enough to tip the balance as my car fell twenty feet onto the street below and the oncoming traffic that went with it.

The car and I landed on our top and the drop slammed me into the roof of the car but I didn’t have to worry about that for long, since an oncoming sedan fishtailed into my rear when it didn’t have enough time to stop and sent me spinning like a child’s toy on the highway. Eventually, after an eternity, the motion slowed. And the metal screeching a death wail on the cement dropped in volume. I was in the back seat at this point, my harness having been undone beforehand, but the comfortable seat didn’t matter much since I was on the roof at the moment. I gave up a bit then. It was probably a minute or so before I even tried moving again. Every part of my body it seemed was either bleeding or screaming in pain or both together. Eventually a nauseous smell brought me back to my senses.

The smell of Gasoline.

The driver’s side was crushed up against the concrete medium and there was no way I would be able to get through that way. The front and rear windscreens had miraculously stood up intact. And I cursed my own mechanical ambition for using some left over Plexiglas I appropriated from a understanding sergeant in supply at Pendleton. It would have been handy to just exit out the back side... I knew it was futile, but I tried it anyway, crawling toward the passenger side and attempting to open the door from the inside. Even from this odd angle I was able to get to the handle but it was useless in my hands.

Some damn fool… who thought he was doing the right thing, had removed the unlocking mechanism.

It was at that point I recognized one pain, distinct from all the rest.

A contraction.

****************************

Authors note

To prove to you that I am not COMPLETELY evil I shall make a deal with you. The Nebraska Cornhuskers do battle tonight with the evil Ohio State Buckeyes; it is a contest we are expected to lose by nine and half points. If we somehow prove victorious I will post the next chapter tomorrow morning instead of the usual two day gap between. If we lose, well, I may be so despondent that I forget to post for …weeks.

If you wish to help the process along the game is at 7:00pm central time on ABC. The team colors are scarlet and cream though despite that our rally cry is “Go Big Red!”