"What are we doing here, Doc?" Scott asked.
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“I’m telling you man, planet Earth is just one big pet store for the Greys.”
“You’re an idiot, Jimmy,” Eric said, with a little too much force.
“Doesn’t make me wrong,” Jimmy said, oblivious to Eric’s tone.
"You're from the Portsmouth office, right?"
"That's right," Kate said. "I'm legal staff on the Synchular Audit."
The local headlines and on-line click bait had dubbed him the "Beat Face Bandit." He had taken down three banks; first as Lady Gaga, right down to the pink hat from the "Joanne" album cover, then Madonna circa "Lucky Star," and most recently, though oddly less successfully, as Harry Styles.
"The figure rose from the sun-fractured, sapphire blue waters of the lagoon, like the reflection of an angel, wings spread, sword in hand, descending from the heavens.
James surveyed the salvage operation, now nearly complete. The sum of his twenty-six years had been packed in a large suitcase, a garment bag, and four cardboard boxes, which were stacked neatly on the floor, ready to be shipped to his new place in Wisconsin. His flight to Madison from Manchester left at 6:05pm. If anything, he was ahead of schedule. He realized, much to his surprise, that he felt good; not quite happy, but good. He would travel the road not taken, after all.
"Remember boys," Billy Stillman said. "It's a jungle out there so let's all be lions today."
His world was white and it howled like an out of tune symphony orchestra. With every breath, Sam felt icy daggers stab at his lungs. He became three people. The man arguing to give in, lay down, accept fate. The man arguing to keep going, take one more step, there would be time for dying later. And the man watching those two men, wondering who was going to win the argument.
The small lecture hall was filled with the men and women who comprised the A2Z BART project team. The lights had been dimmed, except for the spotlight on the lectern in front of the tiered seats. Dr. Rachael Winters, one of the lead scientists for the BART project, adjusted the microphone. A slide was projected on the large screen behind her as she spoke.
"When I was a schoolboy," the instructor began, "we were taught to crawl under our desks in the event of a nuclear attack. Of course, with all the lead in the paint back in those days, hiding under our desks was probably redundant." Brad Stillman waited a beat for his joke to land but it didn't. It never had. And yet, he somehow felt compelled to open the Earthquake Preparedness class with it again. It was his fourteenth time leading the class. It was the fourteenth time he had told his school desk/A-Bomb/lead paint joke. 0 for 14. Not even a chuckle. He felt like Slim Pickens, riding that nuke like a bronco-busting cowboy at the end of Dr. Strangelove. Bombed at the box office.
James Sherman sat in a pew and considered the intricate stained glass window. It depicted a medieval knight in full armor on a rearing steed, the knight's lance having pierced the heart of the three-headed dragon, its eyes rolling in its final agony. Good vs. Evil, with Good triumphant. A riveting story with heroes and villains, plenty of action, and a happy ending. Perhaps someday, James thought, life will imitate art.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," Amanda Seymour said, more to herself than to the insistent visitors knocking at her front door. Amanda had made 68 trips around the sun. She was in good health, but at her age, having lived a full life with just a pinch of bitterness and only a dash of regret, she simply refused to be hurried.
"I haven't told you about this in our previous sessions but I've been having this recurring dream. Nightmare, really. I'm an EMT - which is totally weird given my issues with needles, and well, my, um, general queasiness in the area of bodily fluids, I guess you'd say - and I'm in an ambulance, sirens wailing, on our way to the hospital with a patient and, well, it's me, I mean, the patient, it looks like me, except… It isn't human." Peter Peregrin took a deep breath and waited for his therapist to comment.
"Arizona is one of the most zombie-friendly states in the nation," Linda said. "And you agreed to come with me here to the Dead or Alive Dude Ranch so stop your moaning. This is the first vacation we've had in, well, I really can't remember, and I won't let you spoil it."
"Hey, remember that strange, sad guy who used to work here?" Jimmy Gordon asked nobody in particular as he entered the break room and poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Could you be a little more specific?" Bill MacKenzie said. "Credit & Collections is the department of strange, sad guys."