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Graham spent the better part of an hour trying to calm his sister down. “Listen,” he told the Other that she currently possessed, pacing beside the fire before him.
“I’m listening. I’ve been listening to you for the last forty minutes, but you have said nothing.” She barked at him.
He wanted to push the woman into the fire, but was afraid that Nyx would be unable to escape in time. Finally, “What would you have me do?”
“Watch yourself dear brother. Just watch yourself,” she laughed as the woman who was Nyx leapt into the fire, her blank stare returning just as her outstretched arms began to burn.
Graham cursed his luck. They had managed nearly fifty miles in the three days since they had burned down the Bazaar, but he felt that he would need to take a detour. He sent out a call to his troops to bring him Davey Boy and soon the man in the Gargoyles jacket appeared before him, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Yes sir?” He said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.
“I need you to go to Vegas.”
“Las Vegas? What for?”
“My sister and her army are there. I need you to convince her to send her troops to me.”
“And you think I can do this?”
“I think you have a better chance than I do right now,” he said kicking a stray hand that had fallen out of the fire. “Take your Gargoyles, and you can have twenty-five of my men.”
“What about supplies?”
“Take what you need. I will meet you in White Sands.”
“Anything I should know about your sister?”
Graham laughed. “If you figure her out, let me know.”
Davey Boy cocked his head for a second and then ran back to his tent. “What have I gotten myself into,” he asked no one in particular, but the nearby Others heard him. Graham heard him.
Graham called twenty-five of his men together. “Get your weapons and go with Davey Boy. You will be joined along the way by another group. Protect him and await orders.” They dispersed and it was not long after that the nearly hundred men and women left his camp under the guidance of Davey Boy.
Graham sat back down, the fires dance casting shadows upon his features. Letting a sigh out, he shifted his focus, and saw things through the eyes of one of his scouts. A car dealership, still in tact stood before him and he smiled. He hopped the low barricade around the lot and began walking the aisles. He passed row upon row of Ford trucks, F-150’s, Rangers, even a few older Sport Tracs. The next aisle did not hold anything for him, full of Explorers and Escapes. The next aisle, was more promising, as car models started to come into view. Finally he located the Mustangs, and picked out a shiny red convertible with a black racing stripe running down its middle. “This will do nicely.”
He shifted back to his own body, well, the one he normally occupied, he thought,, and called for more of his men to come. He told them of the red Mustang, and where to find it. “Take the horses, all six of them, and strap them to my new chariot. While you at it, strip the engine out of it, I don’t want to take any chances.”
Dismissed, the seven men and three women left him, and soon he watched them too leave his camp, heading in the opposite direction from Davey.
He shifted his vision again, another scout, this one watching Peter and his crew from afar. They were camped miles from the Bazaar, but even farther from his current position. Shift. Another scout, this one hiding near the Boulder City gate. People joined the community daily, flocking into the city and reveling in the streets under the electric lights. One last shift and he was in White Sands, sitting at a table with two more Others. He looked to the other two, but their expressionless faces revealed nothing. “So,” he said, hoping to wake them up, hoping one of his brothers or sisters was there watching with him. He received no response though and stood up, leaving the room through it’s lone door. He walked down three hallways, ignoring the rooms to the right and left, and out a door into the cold desert night. An Other standing guard turned to watch him descend the three metal steps, before turning back to scan the open field before him. The Other that was Graham turned the buildings corner and made his way past another guard and up another three steps. Through a heavy door that slammed shut behind him, down a hallway, stopping before a doorway, the key hanging on a peg beside it. Take the key, insert it and turn.
He laughed, staring at the pitiful man in shackles before him. The man was weakly raised his head, revealing a shaggy brown beard. “I thought you should know, your son is in this with you.” Graham left the prisoner, letting the door slam shut behind him as he locked it and returned the key to it’s peg. He made his way back to the table, nodding at both guards he had previously passed, and sat down. He tried again to gain the Other’s attention to no avail.
2 comments:
Someone needs to dust off their photoshop skills so that I can see Graham using a mustang with a racing stripe as a chariot. Best mental image ever.
Ditto J.A.
I'm curious, could this man not only be Acmon's father, but the Pennyman's as well? Or do they only share a mother?
That better be brought up at some point.
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