Medallions d20 Modern (Update Wednesday 09-20-06)
- Thread starter Old Drew Id
- Start date
Salthorae
Imperial Mountain Dew Taster
curses
I curse you OldDrewId and all your crew for creating a story that caused me to waste my entire study day enraptured reading it!
But seriously this story is awesome! I got pulled in from the superheroes thread and just had to read this once I had gotten started. it sounds like such a fun group to play in and I eagerly suscribe to catch the next installment
I curse you OldDrewId and all your crew for creating a story that caused me to waste my entire study day enraptured reading it!
But seriously this story is awesome! I got pulled in from the superheroes thread and just had to read this once I had gotten started. it sounds like such a fun group to play in and I eagerly suscribe to catch the next installment
Old Drew Id
First Post
Episode II – Session I - Interruption
Episode II – Session I - Interruption
Crystal eased off the throttle, leaned down into the bike to cut her wind resistance, and coasted around the corner onto Second Avenue. The bars and clubs on Southside had been hopping as she had buzzed through on her way to RGI, but once she had passed the entertainment district, the streets had gotten quiet and a little eerie very quickly. Now that she was approaching the industrial area up near the train tracks, she realized just how loud her Harley was, and she wondered whether stealth might be more important than style right now.
She saw Joe’s Jaguar just up ahead now; just a block or two more and they would be turning into the parking lot at RGI. Movement caught her attention in her side mirror. She straightened up and turned her head back for a quick peek.
A black El Camino had just pulled out of a parking spot and was cruising down the street behind her, taking it slow and traveling with no lights on. Crystal turned back around and saw Joe slowing down to pull into the gated lot at RGI. Probably just a coincidence, but then again, whenever weird stuff went down, it didn’t pay to take chances.
“Guys, be right back, I’m checking something out”, she radioed to Willie over her helmet headset, and cut the bike sharply to the right, gunned the engine, and hopped the curb. She cut down the sidewalk and turned again into an alleyway heading south.
For a moment, she cruised down the alley, parting a couple of rain puddles along the way, and vanishing into the shadows. Probably nothing…
In an instant, light exploded into the alleyway as the El Camino charged into the alley. His headlights were on now, and his engine was roaring as he raced down after her. Sparks flew off the passenger’s side as he scraped against a brick wall, but he kept gaining speed.
A moment later, Crystal shot out of the end of the alley like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. She jammed the brakes and kicked the bike sideways, fishtailing hard right and barreling west down Third Avenue. In a single breath, she was cruising at sixty miles an hour, sitting up, driving one-handed and looking behind her for the pursuit.
The El Camino answered her turn with one of his own. His tires screamed in protest, he took out a soap-board sign as he cut the corner, and two cars had to swerve into the right lanes to keep from hitting him, but he successfully made the turn and kept most of his speed as he wheeled after her. Whoever this a-hole was, he wasn’t just messing with her or looking to scare a chick on a hog. This guy was serious.
Crystal let him gain a little ground, then turned back around and smirked. Let’s see just how serious he is, she thought, and twisted her wrist back. Fuel flooded into the engine, the bike growled like a wild bear, and she took off like she had been standing still. Seventy… eighty… ninety miles an hour. She darted through a green light… another green light… a red light… but the El Camino kept coming. She darted to the right around a van, and to the left again around a station wagon, then checked the mirror again. He was still on her.
“Crystal, was that you?” Willie’s voice crackled over the radio. She swerved for a moment in surprise. (Not smart at ninety miles an hour, she scolded herself.) She realized she must have passed Willie along the way, as he followed Joe and Cooper to RGI. She turned sharply onto an on-ramp, nearly laid the bike over in the process, barely righted herself, and wobbled south down I-65.
“Hey, Willie, I’m being followed…well…I’m being chased…”, she radioed back, and tried to blend in with the traffic on the highway. No such luck. The El Camino roared off the on-ramp after her and regained lost ground. Crystal barely dodged a cement truck and a charter bus, then hit the gas harder. She pulled into the left emergency lane and took off. Ninety… One-hundred… one-hundred-ten miles an hour. Slow-moving cars darted past her like they were standing still. She rounded the bend past Greensprings Avenue, and checked her mirrors.
The El Camino was still back there. She had gained maybe a couple of seconds on him. He must have a suped-up engine in that thing, she figured. She could definitely get more speed out of her Hog, that was sure, but she wasn’t really sure she wanted to.
Willie’s voice crackled on the radio again, “You need some help?”
There was an exit ramp coming up on the far right, and she had just passed a moving van that had his right turn-signal on. Crystal radioed back, “No, I think I got it.”
Crystal dodged sharply to the right and swerved across three lanes of traffic. She hit the brakes hard as she went, bleeding speed as she hit the ramp, hugging the bike tightly and holding a death-grip on the handlebars as she zoomed down the steeper slope. She heard the squealing tires behind her and knew that her pursuer had made the turn, which was just what she wanted. She turned to check behind her as she lost more speed.
Sure enough, the El Camino was coming down the ramp hard, with the moving van narrowly behind him. More importantly, the El Camino was not braking hard like he should have been. Crystal turned back around and watched her speedometer. At fifteen miles an hour, she locked up the brakes, leaned all the way over to the right, and turned the wheel into the curb on her right. The front wheel hit the curb and bit, stopping dead. The back of the bike neatly spun in a half-circle around the front wheel, coming to rest with Crystal facing back up the off-ramp.
For a brief moment, in slow motion, the El Camino passed her coming down the off-ramp. She had hoped to see faces, but she could only make out that there were four indistinct figures inside before the vehicle flew past her, followed closely by the moving van.
Crystal didn’t wait to see what happened next. The bike kicked under her like a wild stallion as she raced back up the off ramp, dodging oncoming traffic until she was back onto the interstate. Once she made it up to the highway, she fishtailed again back south and blended back into traffic.
Willie’s voice crackled on the radio, but Crystal couldn’t make out what he said. She must be near the limits of the signal. She radioed back to confirm she was okay, unsure if he could hear her, and then looked for the next exit where she could turn back towards downtown.
Episode II – Session I - Interruption
Crystal eased off the throttle, leaned down into the bike to cut her wind resistance, and coasted around the corner onto Second Avenue. The bars and clubs on Southside had been hopping as she had buzzed through on her way to RGI, but once she had passed the entertainment district, the streets had gotten quiet and a little eerie very quickly. Now that she was approaching the industrial area up near the train tracks, she realized just how loud her Harley was, and she wondered whether stealth might be more important than style right now.
She saw Joe’s Jaguar just up ahead now; just a block or two more and they would be turning into the parking lot at RGI. Movement caught her attention in her side mirror. She straightened up and turned her head back for a quick peek.
A black El Camino had just pulled out of a parking spot and was cruising down the street behind her, taking it slow and traveling with no lights on. Crystal turned back around and saw Joe slowing down to pull into the gated lot at RGI. Probably just a coincidence, but then again, whenever weird stuff went down, it didn’t pay to take chances.
“Guys, be right back, I’m checking something out”, she radioed to Willie over her helmet headset, and cut the bike sharply to the right, gunned the engine, and hopped the curb. She cut down the sidewalk and turned again into an alleyway heading south.
For a moment, she cruised down the alley, parting a couple of rain puddles along the way, and vanishing into the shadows. Probably nothing…
In an instant, light exploded into the alleyway as the El Camino charged into the alley. His headlights were on now, and his engine was roaring as he raced down after her. Sparks flew off the passenger’s side as he scraped against a brick wall, but he kept gaining speed.
A moment later, Crystal shot out of the end of the alley like a bullet from the barrel of a gun. She jammed the brakes and kicked the bike sideways, fishtailing hard right and barreling west down Third Avenue. In a single breath, she was cruising at sixty miles an hour, sitting up, driving one-handed and looking behind her for the pursuit.
The El Camino answered her turn with one of his own. His tires screamed in protest, he took out a soap-board sign as he cut the corner, and two cars had to swerve into the right lanes to keep from hitting him, but he successfully made the turn and kept most of his speed as he wheeled after her. Whoever this a-hole was, he wasn’t just messing with her or looking to scare a chick on a hog. This guy was serious.
Crystal let him gain a little ground, then turned back around and smirked. Let’s see just how serious he is, she thought, and twisted her wrist back. Fuel flooded into the engine, the bike growled like a wild bear, and she took off like she had been standing still. Seventy… eighty… ninety miles an hour. She darted through a green light… another green light… a red light… but the El Camino kept coming. She darted to the right around a van, and to the left again around a station wagon, then checked the mirror again. He was still on her.
“Crystal, was that you?” Willie’s voice crackled over the radio. She swerved for a moment in surprise. (Not smart at ninety miles an hour, she scolded herself.) She realized she must have passed Willie along the way, as he followed Joe and Cooper to RGI. She turned sharply onto an on-ramp, nearly laid the bike over in the process, barely righted herself, and wobbled south down I-65.
“Hey, Willie, I’m being followed…well…I’m being chased…”, she radioed back, and tried to blend in with the traffic on the highway. No such luck. The El Camino roared off the on-ramp after her and regained lost ground. Crystal barely dodged a cement truck and a charter bus, then hit the gas harder. She pulled into the left emergency lane and took off. Ninety… One-hundred… one-hundred-ten miles an hour. Slow-moving cars darted past her like they were standing still. She rounded the bend past Greensprings Avenue, and checked her mirrors.
The El Camino was still back there. She had gained maybe a couple of seconds on him. He must have a suped-up engine in that thing, she figured. She could definitely get more speed out of her Hog, that was sure, but she wasn’t really sure she wanted to.
Willie’s voice crackled on the radio again, “You need some help?”
There was an exit ramp coming up on the far right, and she had just passed a moving van that had his right turn-signal on. Crystal radioed back, “No, I think I got it.”
Crystal dodged sharply to the right and swerved across three lanes of traffic. She hit the brakes hard as she went, bleeding speed as she hit the ramp, hugging the bike tightly and holding a death-grip on the handlebars as she zoomed down the steeper slope. She heard the squealing tires behind her and knew that her pursuer had made the turn, which was just what she wanted. She turned to check behind her as she lost more speed.
Sure enough, the El Camino was coming down the ramp hard, with the moving van narrowly behind him. More importantly, the El Camino was not braking hard like he should have been. Crystal turned back around and watched her speedometer. At fifteen miles an hour, she locked up the brakes, leaned all the way over to the right, and turned the wheel into the curb on her right. The front wheel hit the curb and bit, stopping dead. The back of the bike neatly spun in a half-circle around the front wheel, coming to rest with Crystal facing back up the off-ramp.
For a brief moment, in slow motion, the El Camino passed her coming down the off-ramp. She had hoped to see faces, but she could only make out that there were four indistinct figures inside before the vehicle flew past her, followed closely by the moving van.
Crystal didn’t wait to see what happened next. The bike kicked under her like a wild stallion as she raced back up the off ramp, dodging oncoming traffic until she was back onto the interstate. Once she made it up to the highway, she fishtailed again back south and blended back into traffic.
Willie’s voice crackled on the radio, but Crystal couldn’t make out what he said. She must be near the limits of the signal. She radioed back to confirm she was okay, unsure if he could hear her, and then looked for the next exit where she could turn back towards downtown.
ledded
Herder of monkies
Dammit, man, I just dont know how you do it.
You write some of the best doggone car chase scenes I have ever read, period. Hands down. I actually get my heart racing a little reading 'em. I bet if we could get John Woo to take a look at this SH he'd think to himself "hey, now that's the sh*t there man"
You write some of the best doggone car chase scenes I have ever read, period. Hands down. I actually get my heart racing a little reading 'em. I bet if we could get John Woo to take a look at this SH he'd think to himself "hey, now that's the sh*t there man"
ledded said:Dammit, man, I just dont know how you do it.
You write some of the best doggone car chase scenes I have ever read, period. Hands down. I actually get my heart racing a little reading 'em. I bet if we could get John Woo to take a look at this SH he'd think to himself "hey, now that's the sh*t there man"
Most definately, OldDrewId. Not only here, but you do a great job with them in-game.
ledded
Herder of monkies
That's true also, though I get frustrated because every time we have ever had one Willie has found some way to be somewhere else, and miss it entirely. Yup, all those cool car chases and Willie has missed 'em all, except one where he spent a total of 2 rounds at the end of a very cool chase in itEyas said:
I'm going to remedy that soon though
Wow! Great fun Drew. Why'd ya have to stop? I love the mysterious car that wont let up. It reminds me of one of Spielburgs first movies DUEL. Of course, the bad guys aren't driving an eighteen wheeler but the driver is a mystery.
Post soon Drew, I want more.
Post soon Drew, I want more.
Old Drew Id
First Post
Episode II – Session I - Evasion
Episode II – Session I - Evasion
Brother Guyzell Cooper watched Joe pull his hat down hard over his ears, and put on his black trench coat, before turning to let Guyzell inspect the results. The poor boy looked ridiculous with that weird shapeless hat pulled down over his head like that, but there was nothing to do about that at this point, so he responded kindly, “Joseph…um, yes…you look fine.”
Joe grinned and grabbed the bag of comic books from trunk of the car while Guyzell grabbed his trusty King James. They headed across the parking lot to the entrance.
The building was one of several older brick warehouses that had been converted for office or light-industrial use in the early nineties. There were no windows on the first three floors, and the only visible entrance was a non-descript metal door guarded by a camera and an intercom. A small stainless steel sign near the door bore the initials R.G.I.
Joe hit the intercom button and yelled into the microphone, “Hello! Special delivery!”
Guyzell rolled his eyes and looked up at the camera. He could hear the high-pitched whirring sound as it focused in on them. After a moment it whirred again, and then it must have gotten messed up, because it just kept whirring and trying to focus without stopping. Guyzell turned back to Joe to point it out to him, but Joe was already watching the camera and grinning. He caught Guyzell’s eye and winked, then pointed at his ‘magic hat’. Guyzell sighed.
The intercom hissed and then spoke, “Yes?”
Joe yelled into the microphone, “Open up! Special delivery!”
There was a good five-second pause before the voice answered. “We don’t accept deliveries after the close of business.”
Joe looked to Guyzell for guidance. Guyzell whispered, “Tell him who it’s for.”
Joe yelled into the microphone again, “It’s for a Mr. Sanders!”
The voice paused again, and then returned, “You’ll have to wait until the morning.”
Joe yelled again, “This is important! It’s of a personal nature for Mr. Sanders!”
Another pause. This one went on for almost ten seconds. Finally, “Fine. I can page him. Please wait there.”
Another minute passed. With a loud clanking sound, the door swung open. A tired-looking redheaded man in a lab coat stood there. He reached for the bag that Joe was holding and spoke in a low monotone, “I’ll take that.”
Joe snatched the bag back behind his back and narrowed his eyes, asking “And you are…?”
The man paused, apparently more than a little confused by the whole affair. He turned to look over at Guyzell for some type of guidance in dealing with Joe. Guyzell wondered silently to himself how anyone accomplished anything without him around to help out; then grinned amiably and extended his hand to the man, “Sir, my name’s Brother Guyzell Cooper. Pleased to meet you!”
The man pulled back from Guyzell’s hand like he might pull back from a snake. He raised his hands defensively and apologized, “Sorry, have to maintain clean room conditions, you understand?” He turned back to Joe and sighed lightly, “May I ask what you have in the bag there?”
Joe nodded and grinned openly. He proffered the bag again, but kept it just out of reach. “Special delivery for Mr. Sanders.”
The red-headed man seemed less than amused, “May I ask what it is?”
Joe’s eyebrow furrowed again. “Are you Mr. Sanders?”
The man paused again and seemed to consider the question. He tried a different tack, “Did he request this delivery? Mr. Sanders is unavailable. I can take it for him.”
Joe responded by imitating a game-show buzzer sound for an annoying four full seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Guyzell judged that the man’s annoyance level was rising to a dangerous level. He decided it was time to step in. He offered in his friendliest tone, “We have to get a signature and such, sir. That kind of thing. I’m sure you understand. Say, can you tell me when he might be coming back around?”
The good-courier-bad-courier tactic seemed to work. The man ignored Joe again and seemed to loosen up a little to Guyzell. However his response was still less than forthcoming: “I expect that he'll be delayed for an indeterminate amount of time.”
Guyzell probed, “I see…well is he out of town? Is he here?”
The questions hit a wall: “I’m sorry, I really can't share that information.”
The response was unexpected, but Cooper recovered quickly and beamed his friendliest good-ole-boy smile, “Now, come on there, you can share that with me - we really need to know where he might be at. From what we know, this is a very important delivery. We just want to make sure it gets to him in a most expeditious manner. Just trying to do the best thing here, you know?”
The red-headed man considered for a moment. His voice was flat when he responded, “Why don’t you gentlemen step inside?”
. . .
The lobby was a small and uninviting white room with no chairs and two unlabelled metal doors leading off to the left and right. In front of them, two armed security guards were bending over a bank of security monitors fiddling with the TV cables. A moment after he and Joe entered the room, Guyzell heard one of the guards curse, “…wait, now that one’s okay and the lobby camera is doing it! Must be a short in the circuit…”
The redheaded man disappeared for a moment through the door on their right, while Guyzell and Joe stood sheepishly in the small white room. One of the security guards brushed past them carrying a stool. While they waited for their contact to return, the guard stood up on the stool and fiddled with the camera mounted on the ceiling. Joe snickered and pulled his hat down tighter on his head.
A moment later, the red-headed man appeared again and invited them into the next hallway. They followed him down a long hallway through a maze of doors and corridors into a windowless conference room. He left them there again and closed the door behind him. A small security camera in the corner of the room began to whirr noisily.
Joe eyed the chairs and table in the room with a great deal of suspicion before unceremoniously dumping himself into the chair at the end of the table. Guyzell sat down lightly in the chair next to him and began to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if they were locked in. He got up to check the door handle, but as he reached for the handle, the door opened.
A tall smiling brunette with beautiful eyes was standing in the doorway, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a lab-coat similar to the one the red-headed man had been wearing. Guyzell’s hand was already extended towards the door, so he left it out there for her to shake, “Howdy miss! How are you doing?”
The woman shook his hand firmly, and held on for perhaps a second longer than he would have expected. She smiled and looked him right in the eye, “I’m doing fine, thank you! I understand you have a delivery for Mr. Sanders? He’s unavailable but I am authorized to take any deliveries that you might have for him.”
Guyzell smiled broadly. She was good, he had to admit. If he were not now one-hundred-percent convinced that there was something treacherous going on in this place, he probably would have handed the package over to her in a heartbeat just for that smile. But as it was, he had no choice but to disappoint her. He shook his head sadly, “I’m really sorry, but it’s a personal delivery, Mrs. …?”
She countered, “That’s alright. I’m his personal assistant, and it’s Miss White.”
Guyzell caught himself even as he was thinking it. Ah, a single girl. Well, in that case…no, no, wait, that’s not why I’m here. He mentally made a note to stop spending so much time listening to Willie, and he was now glad that he had come here with Joe instead of leaving Joe to come here alone. He apologized, “I’m sorry, the package really does have to be given only to Mr. Sanders.”
Miss White pouted adorably, but seemed to accept that Guyzell would not budge. She tried one last question, “Well, can you tell me what this is in reference to?”
Guyzell nodded. “I believe it is a gift---” He was interrupted by Joe snorting loudly. “Um, that is to say, I believe it is a gift, if I’m not mistaken.”
The woman shrugged and left the room without another word.
Barely thirty seconds passed before the door opened again. A blonde man in a lab coat walked into the room confidently, “I’m Jack Sanders. Is that my package?
Joe perked up at the sound of his name. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he eyed the man. “Maybe…who are you?”
The man seemed ruffled and he blinked twice, “Um…as I said, I’m Jack Sanders.”
Joe shook his head. “I need ID please.”
The man seemed genuinely annoyed, but Guyzell detected something else in his manner. Guyzell knew as surely as he was standing there that the man was lying.
Joe continued, “Look, dude, I got three other people that came in here trying to take your package here. I need proof you are who you say you are. This is a special delivery. I need to see your ID.”
The man stammered for a minute, “Um…it must be in my pants with my gym bag. I can get it…But can I at least see what’s in my bag? To, um…see if its what I ordered?”
Joe considered for a moment, before Guyzell interrupted, “Sure, Mr. Sanders, but can you go ahead and tell us what you ordered first?”
Joe smiled, “Ooh! Yeah! Good one, Preacher!”
The impersonator paused and seemed embarrassed. He lied sheepishly, “I’ll just go get my ID. I’ll be right back.” He slinked out of the room quietly, and Guyzell sat back down to wait for their next visitor.
Episode II – Session I - Evasion
Brother Guyzell Cooper watched Joe pull his hat down hard over his ears, and put on his black trench coat, before turning to let Guyzell inspect the results. The poor boy looked ridiculous with that weird shapeless hat pulled down over his head like that, but there was nothing to do about that at this point, so he responded kindly, “Joseph…um, yes…you look fine.”
Joe grinned and grabbed the bag of comic books from trunk of the car while Guyzell grabbed his trusty King James. They headed across the parking lot to the entrance.
The building was one of several older brick warehouses that had been converted for office or light-industrial use in the early nineties. There were no windows on the first three floors, and the only visible entrance was a non-descript metal door guarded by a camera and an intercom. A small stainless steel sign near the door bore the initials R.G.I.
Joe hit the intercom button and yelled into the microphone, “Hello! Special delivery!”
Guyzell rolled his eyes and looked up at the camera. He could hear the high-pitched whirring sound as it focused in on them. After a moment it whirred again, and then it must have gotten messed up, because it just kept whirring and trying to focus without stopping. Guyzell turned back to Joe to point it out to him, but Joe was already watching the camera and grinning. He caught Guyzell’s eye and winked, then pointed at his ‘magic hat’. Guyzell sighed.
The intercom hissed and then spoke, “Yes?”
Joe yelled into the microphone, “Open up! Special delivery!”
There was a good five-second pause before the voice answered. “We don’t accept deliveries after the close of business.”
Joe looked to Guyzell for guidance. Guyzell whispered, “Tell him who it’s for.”
Joe yelled into the microphone again, “It’s for a Mr. Sanders!”
The voice paused again, and then returned, “You’ll have to wait until the morning.”
Joe yelled again, “This is important! It’s of a personal nature for Mr. Sanders!”
Another pause. This one went on for almost ten seconds. Finally, “Fine. I can page him. Please wait there.”
Another minute passed. With a loud clanking sound, the door swung open. A tired-looking redheaded man in a lab coat stood there. He reached for the bag that Joe was holding and spoke in a low monotone, “I’ll take that.”
Joe snatched the bag back behind his back and narrowed his eyes, asking “And you are…?”
The man paused, apparently more than a little confused by the whole affair. He turned to look over at Guyzell for some type of guidance in dealing with Joe. Guyzell wondered silently to himself how anyone accomplished anything without him around to help out; then grinned amiably and extended his hand to the man, “Sir, my name’s Brother Guyzell Cooper. Pleased to meet you!”
The man pulled back from Guyzell’s hand like he might pull back from a snake. He raised his hands defensively and apologized, “Sorry, have to maintain clean room conditions, you understand?” He turned back to Joe and sighed lightly, “May I ask what you have in the bag there?”
Joe nodded and grinned openly. He proffered the bag again, but kept it just out of reach. “Special delivery for Mr. Sanders.”
The red-headed man seemed less than amused, “May I ask what it is?”
Joe’s eyebrow furrowed again. “Are you Mr. Sanders?”
The man paused again and seemed to consider the question. He tried a different tack, “Did he request this delivery? Mr. Sanders is unavailable. I can take it for him.”
Joe responded by imitating a game-show buzzer sound for an annoying four full seconds. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
Guyzell judged that the man’s annoyance level was rising to a dangerous level. He decided it was time to step in. He offered in his friendliest tone, “We have to get a signature and such, sir. That kind of thing. I’m sure you understand. Say, can you tell me when he might be coming back around?”
The good-courier-bad-courier tactic seemed to work. The man ignored Joe again and seemed to loosen up a little to Guyzell. However his response was still less than forthcoming: “I expect that he'll be delayed for an indeterminate amount of time.”
Guyzell probed, “I see…well is he out of town? Is he here?”
The questions hit a wall: “I’m sorry, I really can't share that information.”
The response was unexpected, but Cooper recovered quickly and beamed his friendliest good-ole-boy smile, “Now, come on there, you can share that with me - we really need to know where he might be at. From what we know, this is a very important delivery. We just want to make sure it gets to him in a most expeditious manner. Just trying to do the best thing here, you know?”
The red-headed man considered for a moment. His voice was flat when he responded, “Why don’t you gentlemen step inside?”
. . .
The lobby was a small and uninviting white room with no chairs and two unlabelled metal doors leading off to the left and right. In front of them, two armed security guards were bending over a bank of security monitors fiddling with the TV cables. A moment after he and Joe entered the room, Guyzell heard one of the guards curse, “…wait, now that one’s okay and the lobby camera is doing it! Must be a short in the circuit…”
The redheaded man disappeared for a moment through the door on their right, while Guyzell and Joe stood sheepishly in the small white room. One of the security guards brushed past them carrying a stool. While they waited for their contact to return, the guard stood up on the stool and fiddled with the camera mounted on the ceiling. Joe snickered and pulled his hat down tighter on his head.
A moment later, the red-headed man appeared again and invited them into the next hallway. They followed him down a long hallway through a maze of doors and corridors into a windowless conference room. He left them there again and closed the door behind him. A small security camera in the corner of the room began to whirr noisily.
Joe eyed the chairs and table in the room with a great deal of suspicion before unceremoniously dumping himself into the chair at the end of the table. Guyzell sat down lightly in the chair next to him and began to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if they were locked in. He got up to check the door handle, but as he reached for the handle, the door opened.
A tall smiling brunette with beautiful eyes was standing in the doorway, her hair pulled back in a tight bun. She wore a lab-coat similar to the one the red-headed man had been wearing. Guyzell’s hand was already extended towards the door, so he left it out there for her to shake, “Howdy miss! How are you doing?”
The woman shook his hand firmly, and held on for perhaps a second longer than he would have expected. She smiled and looked him right in the eye, “I’m doing fine, thank you! I understand you have a delivery for Mr. Sanders? He’s unavailable but I am authorized to take any deliveries that you might have for him.”
Guyzell smiled broadly. She was good, he had to admit. If he were not now one-hundred-percent convinced that there was something treacherous going on in this place, he probably would have handed the package over to her in a heartbeat just for that smile. But as it was, he had no choice but to disappoint her. He shook his head sadly, “I’m really sorry, but it’s a personal delivery, Mrs. …?”
She countered, “That’s alright. I’m his personal assistant, and it’s Miss White.”
Guyzell caught himself even as he was thinking it. Ah, a single girl. Well, in that case…no, no, wait, that’s not why I’m here. He mentally made a note to stop spending so much time listening to Willie, and he was now glad that he had come here with Joe instead of leaving Joe to come here alone. He apologized, “I’m sorry, the package really does have to be given only to Mr. Sanders.”
Miss White pouted adorably, but seemed to accept that Guyzell would not budge. She tried one last question, “Well, can you tell me what this is in reference to?”
Guyzell nodded. “I believe it is a gift---” He was interrupted by Joe snorting loudly. “Um, that is to say, I believe it is a gift, if I’m not mistaken.”
The woman shrugged and left the room without another word.
Barely thirty seconds passed before the door opened again. A blonde man in a lab coat walked into the room confidently, “I’m Jack Sanders. Is that my package?
Joe perked up at the sound of his name. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he eyed the man. “Maybe…who are you?”
The man seemed ruffled and he blinked twice, “Um…as I said, I’m Jack Sanders.”
Joe shook his head. “I need ID please.”
The man seemed genuinely annoyed, but Guyzell detected something else in his manner. Guyzell knew as surely as he was standing there that the man was lying.
Joe continued, “Look, dude, I got three other people that came in here trying to take your package here. I need proof you are who you say you are. This is a special delivery. I need to see your ID.”
The man stammered for a minute, “Um…it must be in my pants with my gym bag. I can get it…But can I at least see what’s in my bag? To, um…see if its what I ordered?”
Joe considered for a moment, before Guyzell interrupted, “Sure, Mr. Sanders, but can you go ahead and tell us what you ordered first?”
Joe smiled, “Ooh! Yeah! Good one, Preacher!”
The impersonator paused and seemed embarrassed. He lied sheepishly, “I’ll just go get my ID. I’ll be right back.” He slinked out of the room quietly, and Guyzell sat back down to wait for their next visitor.
Last edited:
Old Drew Id
First Post
Episode II – Session I - Interrogation
Episode II – Session I - Interrogation
Willie pulled the car over into a dark alley around the corner from RGI. He slipped his earpiece into his ear and jacked it into his portable radio. He tried to raise Joe one more time on the radio, and after another failed attempt, he opened his door and got ready to get out of the car. He turned back around and pulled out a walkie-talkie that he handed to Taylor.
Willie made his instructions fast, “Alright, Taylor, I’ve set this radio to open duplex. You don’t have to hit the button, just speak into it if you need me. Brother Cooper and Joe been in there a while now, and with Crystal just playing freeway tag with somebody on I-65, I’m getting a little nervous. I’m gonna go look for another way into that building. Can you drive?”
Taylor slide over into the driver’s seat. “Aye, not a problem…hing on…are ye meaning on the right side of the road?”
Willie visibly grimaced.
Taylor grinned. “No, Ah’m fookin’ wi’ ye. Yah, Ah’m a great driver.”
Willie’s shoulder dropped, “Don't mess with me, Taylor. This is my grandfather's car. That means a lot to a brother!”
Before Taylor could respond, Willie vanished into the shadows. Taylor shifted the old engine into gear and began to circle the block.
. . .
A few minutes later, Willie was squatting down behind some bushes next to the main door at RGI. The only other entrance he could find into the place was a loading bay at the far end of the building, but the door was shut tight, and there was no visible means of opening it from the outside. He scanned the parking lot again and saw headlights turn around the corner in the distance. He reached down to his belt and keyed the button on his radio, “Yo, check-in everybody.”
Surprisingly, Joe’s voice crackled over the radio. “Hey, we’re getting the run-around in here. Well…not really the run-around, because we’re still in the same room, but…”
Crystal’s voice cut in: “I’m back near you guys now. Should be there in another minute.”
Willie saw the pair of headlights creeping closer. That looked like his car, but he wasn’t sure. He keyed the transmit button again: “Taylor? Yo Taylor, check in. What’s going on with you?”
Very weakly, Taylor’s voice sounded over the radio, as if from a distance: “Ello? Ello?”
Willie’s brow furrowed. He had checked that radio on the ride over, and it was working alright before…he rolled his eyes and sent back: “No, Taylor, not the cell phone…the walkie talkie…the other one.”
After a second, Taylor’s voice came over the radio loudly: “Ye got too mini fookin’ contraptions in yer car.”
Willie slowly ran his fingers through his braids. “Alright, Taylor, just keep circling. And keep your eyes peeled for Crystal or an El Camino.”
The response was quick. “Whit? I canna speak Spanish, Willie”
Willie sighed: “Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.”
Taylor responded. “Aye, that Ah will! Hing on! Hing on! Ah see a man skookin’ in the bushes!”
Willie tensed and looked across the parking lot. There weren’t any bushes in the parking lot that he could see, except for the ones… “Um, yeah, good job there, Taylor. That’d be me.”
. . .
An older grey-haired gentleman entered the conference room. Like his predecessors, he wore a lab coat. Again, Guyzell rose from his chair to meet the visitor and offered his hand.
The man firmly shook Guyzell’s hand. “Good evening. I understand you have a personal delivery for Jack Sanders.”
Joe stood up and clutched the bag more tightly. “Are you Jack Sanders?”
The man didn’t hesitate as he answered, “Jack Sanders had a small accident earlier this evening. He is medically incapacitated at the moment.”
Guyzell decided to call his bluff. He feigned surprise and confusion. “But…he was just in here five minutes ago!”
The man was unfazed. “No, that was someone else. Don’t worry about that anymore. Now, what is this package that you are delivering? Mr. Sanders is currently in a coma and is not expected to be available anytime soon.”
Guyzell was definitely taken aback. The man seemed sincere, and even if he was lying, he was certainly painting himself into a corner going this route…which made him seem even more genuine.
The man nodded solemnly, “We are all very concerned for him, naturally.”
Guyzell nodded along with the man. Well, it was worth a shot, “You know, I have received training as a grief counselor, if---”
Joe interrupted, “What hospital is he in?”
The man swallowed slowly. “Mr. Sanders has not been transferred to a hospital. We’re treating him here.”
Guyzell raised an eyebrow skeptically, “You're treating him here? Why isn't this man in a hospital?”
The man’s answer was either truthful or very well prepared. He responded simply, “We have facilities to deal with this sort of thing. It is a very rare condition. Now, if I might ask, what is your connection with Mr. Sanders?”
Guyzell raised his hands defensively, “Oh, no connection really. I’m just with Joseph here.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Up until now, he had not mentioned Joe’s name. He tried to cover, “Just a friend helping out.”
The man immediately studied Joe. “So, you traded emails with Mr. Sanders earlier today?”
Joe looked like a deer caught in headlights. He turned back to Guyzell helplessly, “Um…no?”.
The man continued now more confidently. “We received an email earlier this evening from a Joe Empire.”
Joe gripped his bag more tightly. “Right. I do know Joe Empire. If you want, I'll just go get him. Hold on one second.” Joe got up and headed over to the door. He yanked on the handle, but it held tightly shut. They were locked in. Joe tried to maintain his composure, but his voice was an octave higher now, “Um, if you could just open this door?”
The man sat down in the chair that Joe had just vacated at the end of the table. He calmly studied Guyzell again. “Are you with a law enforcement agency?”
Guyzell shook his head. Somewhere along the way here, he had lost control of the conversation.
“Are you a reporter?”
Guyzell shook his head again, “No…”
“Could I see some ID?”
Guyzell nodded. “Sure,” and reached for his wallet. He had to get back on top of things here. He tried to start over with the man, “And what was your name again?”
The man watched Guyzell’s hands carefully, “I am Dr. McGovern. I am director of genetics research.” Seeing Guyzell hesitate to produce identification, he casually threatened, “I could call for security…”
Guyzell definitely preferred diplomacy to action. He shook his head and smiled. “No need for all that. Here you are!” He handed his entire wallet over to the doctor.
Joe, continued to stand by the door and watch while the doctor studied Guyzell’s wallet for a moment. “Reverend Guyzell Cooper?”
Guyzell nodded and smiled again, and held up his Bible for the man to see, “Yep, man o’ God!”
Dr. McGovern’s eyes narrowed distrustfully, “Are you with a protest group of some kind?”
Guyzell paused. “No sir. I…” he caught himself. He had so stop answering questions and start asking some of his own. “Um…what would I be protesting?”
Dr. McGovern tossed the wallet back on the table and answered dismissively, “Science versus religion, that whole thing.” He then swiveled in his chair and considered Joe again. “So, I assume you are Joe Empire?”
Joe’s grip tightened on the bag of comic books so much that Guyzell felt sure he must be damaging the collectibles inside. Joe answered, “Look, you’re kinda freaking me out here, Doc.”
Guyzell tried to reconcile the situation. “Look, he may be Joseph Empire, but that gentleman earlier said he was Mr. Sanders. So shall we just call that one a wash?”
Dr. McGovern ignored Guyzell and continued to watch Joe. “Mr. Sanders had an aneurysm earlier this evening and is now in a coma. We have since checked his email log and have seen he contacted you about some comic books---“
None of Guyzell’s normal charming little conversational techniques seemed to be working on the good doctor. He tried to interrupt again. “Is that a normal procedure? To check someone’s email when they go into a coma?”
Dr. McGovern took the bait. “Well, when someone on my staff has an aneurysm and then at 11 o’clock at night they receive a special delivery of comic books? Yes, it is.”
Guyzell tried to build up momentum. “Does this kind of thing happen often? Do you have problems with employees having aneurysms all the time? I’m just curious. I know you fellas are involved in genetics and other research. It's not like a virus or anything, is it? It doesn't spread, does it? it's not something we can catch, right?”
Unfortunately, Guyzell’s questions seemed to do more to panic Joe than to incite any further information from Dr. McGovern. Joe’s voice hopped up another octave, “This isn't a quarantine, is it?”
Dr. McGovern took a slow deep breath. “So i understand that you are delivering several comic books, then?”
Guyzell nodded. “Yes…and we will still need payment for the comics, of course and a proof of delivery…” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He just wanted to get the guy talking.
Joe chimed in, trying to help. “Oh, and I’ll need to stop his subscriptions, because he obviously can't read them…”
Casually, Dr. McGovern stood up and straightened his coat, “Well, now, how much does Mr. Sanders owe you for this package?”
Joe shrugged, “Well, nothing, I guess, since we’re not delivering it to him…”
Dr. McGovern nodded and moved towards the door, “Alright then”.
Joe shook his head as if to clear it, “I mean, um…eight thousand dollars?”
Dr. McGovern had already reached the door. It opened effortlessly in his grip. “Now I'll bid you gentlemen a good evening.”
Joe stammered, “Uh, when i said eight-thousand, i meant---“
Guyzell politely shoved Joe through the door into the hall. “Joseph, i really don't think he's going to need them now.”
Joe seemed relieved to be out of the room, but he didn’t seem to want to give up quite yet. “Well, I just think it'd be nice if he had them when he wakes up, right?”
Guyzell followed Dr. McGovern down the hall. “Dr. McGovern, could you just have someone notify Joseph when Mr. Sanders wakes up, God-willing?”
Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and let him know that I've stopped his subscription, too, and that he'll need to email me to start it up again?”
Dr. McGovern was apparently just interested in showing them to the door now. Guyzell gave up on trying to get anything else out of the doctor. Especially with Joe offering this kind of assistance. Guyzell spoke to Joe as they headed down another corridor. “Joseph, i doubt that his subscription will be the first thing on his mind when he wakes up.”
Joe held up both palms, as if to wash himself of all further responsibility, “Fine with me.”
A security guard met them at the end of the next hall. He opened a set of double-doors. Dr. McGovern nodded to them politely. “This gentleman will escort you out. It was a pleasure meeting you both.”
Guyzell shook his hand firmly, but with obvious disappointment. It was a pleasure meeting you too, Dr. McGovern.”
Joe shrugged. “Yeah, dude, check you later.”
Guyzell followed the guard through another couple of hallway intersections. Up ahead, he could see the door to the lobby where they had come in. They would be out in another minute.
Just as they approached, a side door opened, and Miss White entered the hall.
She caught Guyzell’s eye and nodded politely as she approached, but with none of the smiles and charm she had so carefully displayed earlier. As she passed Joe, however, she stopped for a moment.
Joe stopped too, expecting her to say something. Guyzell stopped and turned around to see what was up. Miss White turned and look at Joe for a second, with a look of consternation on her face. Then she screamed.
“Aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaargh!!!!!”
Miss White dropped to her knees in the hallway. She clutched at both sides of her head, took in another deep breath, and screamed again, a loud turn-your-blood-to-ice kind of scream.
The security guard had his walkie-talkie out and was bellowing into it, “We’ve got a collapse in corridor three!”
Joe’s eyes were the size of dinner plates as he looked over at Guyzell for guidance. Guyzell just stood there, without a clue what to do. Joe squatted down next to the woman and lightly touched her shoulder. “Lady? Are you---”
Her head fell back. The bottom half of her face was drenched in blood, which flowed freely from her nose. Her eyes were rolled all the way back in her head, and her skin was as pale as a ghost. She grabbed hold of Joe’s arm with both hands and Guyzell would see her knuckles were white from the grip she had on him.
She turned fully towards Joe and looked him in the face with her eyes still rolled back sightlessly into her skull and panted the words through her screams:
“IT’S…IN…MY…HEAD!!!”
Episode II – Session I - Interrogation
Willie pulled the car over into a dark alley around the corner from RGI. He slipped his earpiece into his ear and jacked it into his portable radio. He tried to raise Joe one more time on the radio, and after another failed attempt, he opened his door and got ready to get out of the car. He turned back around and pulled out a walkie-talkie that he handed to Taylor.
Willie made his instructions fast, “Alright, Taylor, I’ve set this radio to open duplex. You don’t have to hit the button, just speak into it if you need me. Brother Cooper and Joe been in there a while now, and with Crystal just playing freeway tag with somebody on I-65, I’m getting a little nervous. I’m gonna go look for another way into that building. Can you drive?”
Taylor slide over into the driver’s seat. “Aye, not a problem…hing on…are ye meaning on the right side of the road?”
Willie visibly grimaced.
Taylor grinned. “No, Ah’m fookin’ wi’ ye. Yah, Ah’m a great driver.”
Willie’s shoulder dropped, “Don't mess with me, Taylor. This is my grandfather's car. That means a lot to a brother!”
Before Taylor could respond, Willie vanished into the shadows. Taylor shifted the old engine into gear and began to circle the block.
. . .
A few minutes later, Willie was squatting down behind some bushes next to the main door at RGI. The only other entrance he could find into the place was a loading bay at the far end of the building, but the door was shut tight, and there was no visible means of opening it from the outside. He scanned the parking lot again and saw headlights turn around the corner in the distance. He reached down to his belt and keyed the button on his radio, “Yo, check-in everybody.”
Surprisingly, Joe’s voice crackled over the radio. “Hey, we’re getting the run-around in here. Well…not really the run-around, because we’re still in the same room, but…”
Crystal’s voice cut in: “I’m back near you guys now. Should be there in another minute.”
Willie saw the pair of headlights creeping closer. That looked like his car, but he wasn’t sure. He keyed the transmit button again: “Taylor? Yo Taylor, check in. What’s going on with you?”
Very weakly, Taylor’s voice sounded over the radio, as if from a distance: “Ello? Ello?”
Willie’s brow furrowed. He had checked that radio on the ride over, and it was working alright before…he rolled his eyes and sent back: “No, Taylor, not the cell phone…the walkie talkie…the other one.”
After a second, Taylor’s voice came over the radio loudly: “Ye got too mini fookin’ contraptions in yer car.”
Willie slowly ran his fingers through his braids. “Alright, Taylor, just keep circling. And keep your eyes peeled for Crystal or an El Camino.”
The response was quick. “Whit? I canna speak Spanish, Willie”
Willie sighed: “Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.”
Taylor responded. “Aye, that Ah will! Hing on! Hing on! Ah see a man skookin’ in the bushes!”
Willie tensed and looked across the parking lot. There weren’t any bushes in the parking lot that he could see, except for the ones… “Um, yeah, good job there, Taylor. That’d be me.”
. . .
An older grey-haired gentleman entered the conference room. Like his predecessors, he wore a lab coat. Again, Guyzell rose from his chair to meet the visitor and offered his hand.
The man firmly shook Guyzell’s hand. “Good evening. I understand you have a personal delivery for Jack Sanders.”
Joe stood up and clutched the bag more tightly. “Are you Jack Sanders?”
The man didn’t hesitate as he answered, “Jack Sanders had a small accident earlier this evening. He is medically incapacitated at the moment.”
Guyzell decided to call his bluff. He feigned surprise and confusion. “But…he was just in here five minutes ago!”
The man was unfazed. “No, that was someone else. Don’t worry about that anymore. Now, what is this package that you are delivering? Mr. Sanders is currently in a coma and is not expected to be available anytime soon.”
Guyzell was definitely taken aback. The man seemed sincere, and even if he was lying, he was certainly painting himself into a corner going this route…which made him seem even more genuine.
The man nodded solemnly, “We are all very concerned for him, naturally.”
Guyzell nodded along with the man. Well, it was worth a shot, “You know, I have received training as a grief counselor, if---”
Joe interrupted, “What hospital is he in?”
The man swallowed slowly. “Mr. Sanders has not been transferred to a hospital. We’re treating him here.”
Guyzell raised an eyebrow skeptically, “You're treating him here? Why isn't this man in a hospital?”
The man’s answer was either truthful or very well prepared. He responded simply, “We have facilities to deal with this sort of thing. It is a very rare condition. Now, if I might ask, what is your connection with Mr. Sanders?”
Guyzell raised his hands defensively, “Oh, no connection really. I’m just with Joseph here.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Up until now, he had not mentioned Joe’s name. He tried to cover, “Just a friend helping out.”
The man immediately studied Joe. “So, you traded emails with Mr. Sanders earlier today?”
Joe looked like a deer caught in headlights. He turned back to Guyzell helplessly, “Um…no?”.
The man continued now more confidently. “We received an email earlier this evening from a Joe Empire.”
Joe gripped his bag more tightly. “Right. I do know Joe Empire. If you want, I'll just go get him. Hold on one second.” Joe got up and headed over to the door. He yanked on the handle, but it held tightly shut. They were locked in. Joe tried to maintain his composure, but his voice was an octave higher now, “Um, if you could just open this door?”
The man sat down in the chair that Joe had just vacated at the end of the table. He calmly studied Guyzell again. “Are you with a law enforcement agency?”
Guyzell shook his head. Somewhere along the way here, he had lost control of the conversation.
“Are you a reporter?”
Guyzell shook his head again, “No…”
“Could I see some ID?”
Guyzell nodded. “Sure,” and reached for his wallet. He had to get back on top of things here. He tried to start over with the man, “And what was your name again?”
The man watched Guyzell’s hands carefully, “I am Dr. McGovern. I am director of genetics research.” Seeing Guyzell hesitate to produce identification, he casually threatened, “I could call for security…”
Guyzell definitely preferred diplomacy to action. He shook his head and smiled. “No need for all that. Here you are!” He handed his entire wallet over to the doctor.
Joe, continued to stand by the door and watch while the doctor studied Guyzell’s wallet for a moment. “Reverend Guyzell Cooper?”
Guyzell nodded and smiled again, and held up his Bible for the man to see, “Yep, man o’ God!”
Dr. McGovern’s eyes narrowed distrustfully, “Are you with a protest group of some kind?”
Guyzell paused. “No sir. I…” he caught himself. He had so stop answering questions and start asking some of his own. “Um…what would I be protesting?”
Dr. McGovern tossed the wallet back on the table and answered dismissively, “Science versus religion, that whole thing.” He then swiveled in his chair and considered Joe again. “So, I assume you are Joe Empire?”
Joe’s grip tightened on the bag of comic books so much that Guyzell felt sure he must be damaging the collectibles inside. Joe answered, “Look, you’re kinda freaking me out here, Doc.”
Guyzell tried to reconcile the situation. “Look, he may be Joseph Empire, but that gentleman earlier said he was Mr. Sanders. So shall we just call that one a wash?”
Dr. McGovern ignored Guyzell and continued to watch Joe. “Mr. Sanders had an aneurysm earlier this evening and is now in a coma. We have since checked his email log and have seen he contacted you about some comic books---“
None of Guyzell’s normal charming little conversational techniques seemed to be working on the good doctor. He tried to interrupt again. “Is that a normal procedure? To check someone’s email when they go into a coma?”
Dr. McGovern took the bait. “Well, when someone on my staff has an aneurysm and then at 11 o’clock at night they receive a special delivery of comic books? Yes, it is.”
Guyzell tried to build up momentum. “Does this kind of thing happen often? Do you have problems with employees having aneurysms all the time? I’m just curious. I know you fellas are involved in genetics and other research. It's not like a virus or anything, is it? It doesn't spread, does it? it's not something we can catch, right?”
Unfortunately, Guyzell’s questions seemed to do more to panic Joe than to incite any further information from Dr. McGovern. Joe’s voice hopped up another octave, “This isn't a quarantine, is it?”
Dr. McGovern took a slow deep breath. “So i understand that you are delivering several comic books, then?”
Guyzell nodded. “Yes…and we will still need payment for the comics, of course and a proof of delivery…” He wasn’t sure where he was going with this. He just wanted to get the guy talking.
Joe chimed in, trying to help. “Oh, and I’ll need to stop his subscriptions, because he obviously can't read them…”
Casually, Dr. McGovern stood up and straightened his coat, “Well, now, how much does Mr. Sanders owe you for this package?”
Joe shrugged, “Well, nothing, I guess, since we’re not delivering it to him…”
Dr. McGovern nodded and moved towards the door, “Alright then”.
Joe shook his head as if to clear it, “I mean, um…eight thousand dollars?”
Dr. McGovern had already reached the door. It opened effortlessly in his grip. “Now I'll bid you gentlemen a good evening.”
Joe stammered, “Uh, when i said eight-thousand, i meant---“
Guyzell politely shoved Joe through the door into the hall. “Joseph, i really don't think he's going to need them now.”
Joe seemed relieved to be out of the room, but he didn’t seem to want to give up quite yet. “Well, I just think it'd be nice if he had them when he wakes up, right?”
Guyzell followed Dr. McGovern down the hall. “Dr. McGovern, could you just have someone notify Joseph when Mr. Sanders wakes up, God-willing?”
Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and let him know that I've stopped his subscription, too, and that he'll need to email me to start it up again?”
Dr. McGovern was apparently just interested in showing them to the door now. Guyzell gave up on trying to get anything else out of the doctor. Especially with Joe offering this kind of assistance. Guyzell spoke to Joe as they headed down another corridor. “Joseph, i doubt that his subscription will be the first thing on his mind when he wakes up.”
Joe held up both palms, as if to wash himself of all further responsibility, “Fine with me.”
A security guard met them at the end of the next hall. He opened a set of double-doors. Dr. McGovern nodded to them politely. “This gentleman will escort you out. It was a pleasure meeting you both.”
Guyzell shook his hand firmly, but with obvious disappointment. It was a pleasure meeting you too, Dr. McGovern.”
Joe shrugged. “Yeah, dude, check you later.”
Guyzell followed the guard through another couple of hallway intersections. Up ahead, he could see the door to the lobby where they had come in. They would be out in another minute.
Just as they approached, a side door opened, and Miss White entered the hall.
She caught Guyzell’s eye and nodded politely as she approached, but with none of the smiles and charm she had so carefully displayed earlier. As she passed Joe, however, she stopped for a moment.
Joe stopped too, expecting her to say something. Guyzell stopped and turned around to see what was up. Miss White turned and look at Joe for a second, with a look of consternation on her face. Then she screamed.
“Aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaargh!!!!!”
Miss White dropped to her knees in the hallway. She clutched at both sides of her head, took in another deep breath, and screamed again, a loud turn-your-blood-to-ice kind of scream.
The security guard had his walkie-talkie out and was bellowing into it, “We’ve got a collapse in corridor three!”
Joe’s eyes were the size of dinner plates as he looked over at Guyzell for guidance. Guyzell just stood there, without a clue what to do. Joe squatted down next to the woman and lightly touched her shoulder. “Lady? Are you---”
Her head fell back. The bottom half of her face was drenched in blood, which flowed freely from her nose. Her eyes were rolled all the way back in her head, and her skin was as pale as a ghost. She grabbed hold of Joe’s arm with both hands and Guyzell would see her knuckles were white from the grip she had on him.
She turned fully towards Joe and looked him in the face with her eyes still rolled back sightlessly into her skull and panted the words through her screams:
“IT’S…IN…MY…HEAD!!!”