I finished up April's Camp Nanowrimo last week and I wanted to post a little bit from my 20,000 word goal. My book is a neverending work in progress, but progress is being made (albeit at the pace of escargot).
The powerboat may not have looked like much, but the waves certainly bowed to its force. The ocean was in an unpleasant mood and the eight passenger speedboat pierced through their seven foot protests as if they were nothing more than nuisances.
The anonymous driver, if he even had a name, did only what the parameters of his job dictated. He drove.
The only other two occupants were Margot, the ‘hospitality’ manager, and Elton, the outside resource that Margot was less than pleased to have to be dealing with.
Elton took in the sights of the waves like an older child might, feeling the exhilaration of their marvel but refusing to let on too much as to their effect on him. He smiled at Margot. She didn’t return it.
“My first time on the island,” he said.
Margot didn’t even give him a courtesy nod. The Church of Progression had always upheld the highest level of autonomy, and the fact that Max Finchley had brought in this outsider was confusing. It wasn’t her place to question him, only to withhold the feeling of insult she experienced in Elon’s presence.
“So, Margot-”
“Miss Lambert,” she corrected him.
“Margot,” Elton repeated with much less joviality. “Didn’t Max tell you that I’m not part of your little cult?”
“Mr. Finchley informs me of everything.”
“Sure he does.” Elton’s smile returned. “I’m quite certain he’s brought me on board because everything is running so smoothly.” He let his comment sift for a bit, daring Margot to challenge it. He continued when she didn’t. “Tell me about the pet.”
“It’s unimportant.”
“Really? I’m under the impression that your research and development is based entirely around her biology.”
“Mr. Graves, is advancement in your line of work built around impressions?”
“I’m sorry. When I say I’m under the impression, I mean I know what I’m talking about.” He leaned forward. “Do you know what you’re talking about, Margot?”
She glared at him but didn’t say anything.
“An energy rift appears off the coast of Eleison. Records date it as far back as 1938 when the island was called Yutakana. In 1978, a research vessel found a fungus growing on Eleison, which at that point was called ‘some island’. The notes claim that the fungus didn’t behave the way fungus was expected to behave, although any information going into details has been lost or destroyed. You know what I find funny about that?”
Margot stared out the nearest window. “No.”
“It’s the fact that fungus is expected to ‘behave’ a particular way. I mean, if I were to ask you to do an impression of fungus-”
A massive wave struck the side of the powerboat. Margot barely felt or noticed it.
“Exactly.” Elton grinned. Margot shot him a glance. “So in 1984 the rift was rediscovered- are you going to be writing any of this down?”
“What is your point Mr. Graves?”
“It’s been my experience that things blow up when children start playing with science they don’t understand.”
Margot huffed the word ‘science’ like it was an obscenity.
“Not much of a believer in myths such as evidence I see.”
“Mr. Graves,” Margot gave him a trained pageant smile which was undermined by the bitterness in her eyes. “I say this with all of God’s love. You can go to Hell.”
Elton looked up at the island that was only a few minutes away. “Well, we are about to dock.”
It was another hour’s drive to the Governor’s house from the beach. Elton and Margot rode in the back seat of a transport vehicle, each shifting periodically to alleviate the boredom.
“Incoming call Miss,” came the voice of the chauffeur through the intercom.
“Go ahead,” instructed Margot.
There was a crackle, followed by a female voice. “There’s been another suicide.”
Margot rolled her eyes. “That’s the third one this week. What’s the damage?”
“Bent fender and a punctured tire.”
“Sweepers?”
“No miss. The car drove off the road.”
“Send an assessment unit to see what’s salvageable. What exactly happened?”
“The driver was a Mr. Frank T. Hutchinson from Missouri. Former online stockbroker. He swerved to miss a Green Ramrod and wrecked.”
Margot sighed. “Witnesses?”
“Just locals.”
“Okay, chalk it to poor driving and get rid of the corpse.”
“Well, there’s a problem. He threw himself in front of the monorail.”
“Great. Where is the body?”
“Um, the bulk of it still appears to be on the nose.”
“Son of- All right, divert it to Terminal E and hose him off. Family?”
“Just a nineteen year old daughter.”
“Find out what Mr. Hutchinson was worth before his blaze of glory and feed that into her account and send her Mr. Finchley’s condolences. Then figure out who the driver of the Ramrod was and take it out of their assets.”
“Should I have the car taken away?”
“No, let me know who it is first.”
“Taken care of.” And the voice crackled out.
Margot rubbed her eyes. “Everyone is such a primadonna.”
Elton gave her a side smile that she didn’t notice.
The car pulled in front of the Governor’s house. Margot picked up the black metal briefcase from under her seat and exited the vehicle, followed by Elton. The Governor’s house sat on a steep hill surrounded by trees. The first level had been built directly into the rock and was now serving as a basement. The remaining two stories were made of wood, giving it the appearance of a cabin with a balcony to look down on the city below; also named Eleison.
Margot reminded Elton not to speak until he was spoken to. He made her no promises. She brushed his smugness off and led the way through the front door.
The inside was an open area with a grand piano right in front of them. To their left stretched a long staircase that curved up to the balcony and a few rooms above. The front area connected to a large kitchen at the far end opposite the front door with a few doors dotting the walls on both sides.
In terms of cleanliness, the place was nearly spotless; no trace of dust anywhere. It made the small collection of broken bottles and glasses on the kitchen floor all the more conspicuous. A huge fire roared at the front of the room with what looked like the charred remains of carved wood instead of logs smoking.
For a few seconds the house gave off the impression of being empty. Margot flinched when the sound of something striking something else cracked the silence. She waited. It came again. Not wanting to let her discomfort show in front of Elton, she drew in a breath and started for the steps down into the basement.
No comments:
Post a Comment