The new RT program was completely overrun with the brightest young minds in the solar system. They were all eager to be involved in the newest, highest profile, cutting edge educational theories; classes were held in the largest auditorium on campus. The program’s slogan was simple – Think Outside the Box. It produced some of the most gifted scientists and not a few complete lunatics (the two sometimes being hard to distinguish) much to the chagrin of companies hiring recent RT graduates.
Imagine blowing your very large signing bonus on a student to find out he is completely deranged and not as intelligent as you assumed. Be comforted in knowing the difference between deranged and highly intelligent is sometimes uniquely small, and that you’re not the first to hire 'the deranged guy'. Be that as it may, it doesn’t prevent your competitors from making fun of you behind your back.
Gorman Dictourie, RT continued his search for dark light, dark light beings, and dark universes aided by his best students until his research project was cancelled by the government. Why was it halted? No one is saying. Rumor has it Gorman was successful; he found dark light universes. Rumor has it his student helpers were all given very large stipends for other scientific projects, and then threatened if they ever talked about the dark light research.
Rumor also has it the government doesn’t know about the subterranean research lab constructed under the house Gorman built when the university first hired him.
Gorman’s off the record response to a question about the rumored subterranean research lab was enigmatic, “The show must go on.”
CHAPTER FIVE
THUGS AND MERCULOIDS
“Hey meathead get out of bed; we’re supposed to meet the girls in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay, okay, don’t blow a gasket, Blackie,” responded Mark who put a pillow over his head, turned toward the wall, and began breathing slow and deep as he drifted back to sleep.
“Didn’t work did it?” said Wayne as Blackie returned to the suite’s common room.
“Never does,” replied Blackie. “I say we go down to the restaurant, get a table and wait to see who shows up. The worst that can happen is we get an extra cup of coffee before the girls arrive and I’m down with that.”
“That’s a plan, but go in and yell at Mark one more time and tell him I said he’s a bum.”
“Done.” Blackie returned to Mark’s room and walked up close to his bed. “Wayne said you’re the equivalent of an interplanetary vagrant; just thought you should know that in your absence we’re having an extremely honest discussion about your lack of character.” The comment had the desired effect, which was to rouse Mark enough to wake up.
“Doesn’t anyone sleep in anymore?” asked Mark who yawned and didn’t bother to cover his mouth since he knew only Blackie was in the room.
“Nice tonsils. The pastries are ready,” offered Blackie.
“I’ll shower and be right down.”
Blackie returned to the other room. “Come on Wayne, he’ll be right down.”
“Really, what did you say?”
“I told him you said he’s a bum and the breakfast pastries are ready.”
“How do you know the pastries are ready?” asked Wayne.
“I don’t,” said Blackie with a grin on his face, “but Mark doesn’t know that does he?”
Blackie and Wayne made their way to the elevator. The sight of it made Wayne remember the elevator at the Phoenix Hotel. He had retrieved the Jump Starter from Amelia’s room when they realized the hotel was engulfed in fire. The whole group had followed him to her room and then they had made their way down the stairs to the lobby to find it was immersed in flames. As they exited the stairs and stood in the middle of the burning room one of the elevators had mysteriously returned to the lobby and opened its doors, beckoning someone, anyone, to enter as the front desk exploded in flames and the chandelier overhead broke from its ceiling mount.
“Shawn said don’t get in the elevator,” said Wayne out loud.
“We can take the stairs if you want,” replied Blackie, who wasn’t entirely sure he heard Wayne correctly.
“No, the elevator is fine,” said Wayne, “I was just having a flashback.” They reached the first floor and Wayne leaned forward, sticking his head out of the elevator and peered around the lobby.
“No problem,” he said looking at Blackie as he stepped out into the lobby.
“Wayne are you okay?” asked Blackie. “Is something bothering you?”
“No, I’m fine,” responded Wayne, “I was just making sure there wasn’t a déjà vu in progress.”
Blackie still hadn’t figured out what Wayne was going on about when they entered the restaurant and found the girls were already there having coffee at a large table near the center of the room.
“Are these seats taken?” Wayne said as he approached the girls’ table.
“We were just saying we hoped some handsome young men would join us,” said Amelia. “But since none showed up, why don’t you have a seat?” she finished with a mischievous smile.
“Ouch,” said Wayne, “it’s going to be one of those days is it?”
“I’m not with him,” said Blackie, and he took a seat next to Joules. “Mark is having a bad hair day, but he’ll be down shortly.”
“Yeah, he looked like a vagrant,” said Wayne with a comical look on his face, “so we told him to shower and meet us down here.”
“Why do I get the feeling that’s not entirely accurate?” asked Joules who looked at Blackie, then Wayne, with a fake look of surprise plastered on her face.
“More to the point,” interjected Wayne, “when have you not had that feeling when Mark and I are involved.”
Joules laughed out loud and Nita had a 'you know that’s right' look on her face. Mark joined them momentarily and immediately ordered breakfast pastries. After eating they decided it was a good time to visit a hardware store and look for a new retainer ring for the Jump Starter.
“Who knows,” offered Amelia as they exited the hotel through its revolving front door, “maybe it’s a standard part? The hardware store may have an entire box of them.”
“That revolving door is huge, it must be six meters in diameter,” said Blackie looking back at the front of the hotel. For just a brief moment he thought he glimpsed something standing next to the door. “What is that,” he said out loud without thinking. He turned to Joules with a puzzled look but when they looked back at the door there was nothing there.
“What’s what?” asked Joules who had turned toward the hotel. Everyone else stopped and turned to look.
“Nothing, it was nothing,” said Blackie. But it was something. He was sure of that. But until he was sure, absolutely sure what it was he wouldn’t tell the group. “Maybe I should mention it,” he thought, and decided to tell the group at dinner, “Hey gang, I think we’re being stalked — they’ll love that, I can see the look on Wayne’s face now.”
They continued to walk down the street that was home to every kind of shop you could imagine. It was early, so the shop owners were just opening their doors. Some were sweeping leaves from in front of their stores, others were arranging merchandise and signage. Some greeted the group as they walked by. “Excuse me,” said Nita to one of the shop owners, “could you direct us to the nearest hardware store?”
“That’ll be Theadelbaum’s Hardware, that will,” said the shopkeeper. “Go to Tenor Street,” she said pointing in the direction they were walking, “turn right and it’s another five-minute brisk walk. Nice day for it though,” she ended with a cheery sound in her voice.
“Thanks,” said Nita and off they went.
“She had nice eyes,” remarked Amelia.
“They were yellow,” replied Wayne.
“Yea, but they were a nice shade of yellow don’t you think?”
Wayne turned toward Mark, “They were a nice shade of yellow, Mark.”
“I know, Wayne, I thought they were simply lovely,” replied Mark.
“I
agree with Amelia,” said Nita, “I think she had beautiful eyes.”
“I didn’t say they weren’t; I’m just fond of a narrower list of eye colors, that’s all,” replied Wayne, “a list that doesn’t include bright yellow.”
“Yeah, blue, green, brown, and minor variations of those,” said Mark, “and black,” he added, as he looked over at Amelia whose eyes were almost as dark as her raven black hair. Amelia returned his gaze, furrowed her brow and crossed her eyes.
“Joules you haven’t chimed in yet,” said Blackie.
“Oh, I thought her eyes were nice,” replied Joules, “it wasn’t off-putting at all; they matched the short little spikes coming out the back of her neck.
Mark turned toward Wayne, “Did you see those?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t make it past the yellow eyes. But I have a feeling before our little intergalactic excursion is over I’ll get used to stuff like this. Last time we saw a hologram of Tugurro I didn’t even flinch. If you can get used to a Cerotodairhin you can get used to anything. Besides, I once dated a girl who wore a silver stud patch down her neck,” finished Wayne.
“You did?” asked Mark in surprise.
“Not for long,” replied Wayne, “one date and done. It wasn’t really the studs, it was...”
“It was the studs, wasn’t it, Wayne?”
“Yeah,” laughed Wayne, “it was the studs; I’m just not into that.”
Amelia caught Joules’ attention and whispered, “Whew,” as she faked wiping her brow. Blackie saw her and began laughing.
Wayne and Mark both said “WHAT?” at the same time with Mark giving a two handed, palms up, hand gesture that could have qualified him as part Italian. Too bad he hadn’t used that during his trip to Venice. But then again, he didn’t have a prayer of blending in, he was just too un-Italian — meaning Scottish. That was okay since Mark and Blackie were keen on their ancestry and had more than once studied and acted out ancient Scottish battles, substituting their dad’s landscaping machetes for claymores.
The epic battle reenactments only occurred when the 'Dad unit' as they called him, was at the military base and the 'Mom unit' was at the Base Exchange shopping. That was necessary since the sound of those machetes clanging against each other was loud, and there was such an enormously high probability that one of them was going to lose a hand that either parent would have put a stop to the battles immediately. Mark and Blackie were sure that would have been their reaction since they had never witnessed either of their parents doing anything that would have threatened to sever one of their limbs, so how could they possibly appreciate the artistry?
Although a small wager on one of them taking a trip to Wilford Hall Hospital seems like it would have returned a nice profit, no Scottish persons were hurt significantly during the battle reenactments. That being the case, they still managed to acquire some very effective claymore fighting techniques. The machetes were fair training swords, albeit somewhat crude, not like the ones Blackie trained with at the base.
“Look,” said Joules, “there’s the hardware store.” Blackie was deep into a memory of him and Mark repelling invading hordes from the Scottish Highlands and had trouble snapping out of it. The rest had been clowning around so much they hadn’t realized how far they had walked, and if Joules hadn’t noticed the store they would have walked right by.
Standing there looking at Theadelbaum’s all of them were surprised at its appearance and more than a little skeptical that anyone would ever find anything they needed there. The place was a tiny, one story, shot gun building that was marginally bigger than one of those cute 'tiny houses' you’ve seen advertised on Greenway Living. You know the ones, you can live in them, but not own anything.
Mark was the first to comment, “That’s it? That’s the hardware store? It’s more of a hardware kiosk, don’t you think?”
“This was a complete waste of time,” said Wayne as they stood motionless across the street from Theadelbaum’s looking at the small building.
“I think it’s cute,” said Nita, “let’s have a look,” and she started across the street followed by the group with Wayne bringing up the rear, still grumbling about a long walk for nothing.
Nita poked her head in the door and then disappeared inside. She then reappeared on the tiny porch, “You won’t believe this,” she said, and disappeared into the tiny building again.
“Something tells me she’s right,” responded Mark who sighed and he stepped onto the porch and into the building.
“You think there’s room for all of us?” said Wayne with a surly tone.
The front door opened and Mark poked his head out, “Wayne, get in here; you won’t believe this.”
“Come on, Wayne,” said Blackie as he stepped up and opened the door for them to enter. “If we do believe it, we can be surly later, together,” he finished with a somber look on his face.
Wayne punched him as they entered the small building. It was just as they thought, except for the stairway near the far end of the building that went into a massive room the size of a football field – football or futbol, your choice.
“Wayne, you’ve got to see this,” said Mark as he bounded up the stairs and immediately back down.
All of them were amazed at the sight of the room. Hardware was everywhere in precisely labeled bins and drawers and barrels and wall racks, and if that wasn’t enough, “YOU ARE HERE” signs were posted throughout the room with touch screen computers to help you find what you were looking for in as little time as possible.
“Some kiosk, right Mark?” said Blackie as he approached the bottom of the stairs.
“Come on, you are going to love this place,” said Mark, and he was right, they did. They examined hardware stuff for over two hours. Finally, they all reconvened near the middle of the massive room.
“No sign of anything that would serve as a retainer ring?” asked Amelia to no one in particular.
“No,” replied Nita. The others offered the same reply.
“Well, we tried. Let’s move on.”
“Go ahead, I want to check one more thing,” said Blackie. As the group turned toward the stairs he marched off toward the far end of the room where hand tools were neatly displayed on wall racks.
They rest of the group approached the top of the stairs and heard several people yelling in the small room above. The girls made the landing first and moved aside to let Mark and Wayne climb to the top step of the stairs and the tiny first floor.
Three large men were having a loud disagreement with the clerk. They were agitated about something and the longer they talked the more apparent it was that their agitation was based on them not getting their way. They had worked themselves into a frenzy, and one of them lost his patience and pounded his fist on the counter demanding to see the manager.
“I told you before,” said the clerk, “I’m the only one here this morning because the crowds don’t start coming in until later. I open and the manager comes in after, and besides that, I’ve told you we don’t have any record of your order; you’re in the wrong hardware store.”
“Then it’s you that we’ll deal with,” yelled one of the men, not listening to the clerk’s explanation.
Wayne had already figured out how this scene was likely to play out and stepped around the counter to accompany the clerk. “We just got in and were helping these ladies look at something in the appliance section,” said Wayne as Mark joined him behind the counter.
The man nearest the counter reached into his pocket and produced a large knife that he unfolded and brandished at the clerk. The two men with him followed his lead, pulling out their own knives; one of them hoisted a large fixed blade knife he retrieved from a side scabbard and pointed it at Wayne. “You’re both gonna get a little of what we had in store for him,” said the man, “I’m going to let you try this on,” and he waived the knife at Mark’s face.
Blackie was just making his way to the top of the stairs and heard the thug’s threat. “R
emember these Mark?” he said as he stepped into the small room and toward the three men. He lifted his right hand into the air and displayed a bright new shiny tool that looked like a full-sized jungle machete.
The thug nearest the counter turned toward Blackie with a look of disdain on his face, “Like you have the guts to use that,” as he stepped toward Blackie.
Blackie fixed his gaze firmly on the man’s eyes, “I’ve been trained to cleave heads from the necks of enemies in the Ghàidhealtachd until their blood pooled so high it flowed into the Abhainn at Glen Doigg, a long stone’s throw away from where we engaged. When we finished that wretched day, the stench carried on the eastward wind nigh to Albrreathinmoure, five kilometers at best from the sea. Many more than three went down to sleep in hell’s embrace there,” he spat at the man, “are you willing to try us on?” and with that he produced the second machete he had hidden in his left hand behind his back.
With one smooth motion, like he had done it a hundred times or more, he deftly tossed the machete into the air toward Mark, who caught it by the handle and whirled it in the air three times, narrowly missing the face of the man with the fixed blade knife; it was so close the man felt the wind from the machete as it passed.
“It’s a nicely balanced blade,” he said to Blackie almost nonchalantly as he remembered their machete encounters in the backyard when no one was watching. “It would be a shame to leave it unused, if there was a necessity to try its metal in defense of this fine hardware store,” and he stepped quickly out from behind the counter to join Blackie facing the three men.
Wayne noticed a threaded metal rod jutting out from one of the shelves beneath the counter, and grabbing onto it slid it across the edge of the wooden shelf, intentionally making a grinding sound with the threads. The three men looked at Wayne just as he said, “Look what I found,” and wielding the rod like a club he added, “I’ll bet this would hurt,” and he brought the two-foot length of all-thread rod down heavily on the wooden countertop. One of the thugs backed away several paces.
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