Angelsboi
First Post
Sorry for the long read!!
((I should mention this is my Play By Post Group and on the main message, I had the date and time set. It started at 11:40 pm December 31st of 1998. I have recently moved my boards and it can be found here:
http://www.goand.net/home/board.php?BOARD_ID=93
I also want to apologize for the format as some if it is past tense and some is present tense. I took it straight from my game and tried to change it around to all past tense.))
Part One
Everyone gathered in the plush elegance of the Sundial; a rotating restaurant of Atlanta. Ms. Sarah Darling has reserved it for the evening to host her last humanitarian act of 1998. It’s a benefit for the homeless. Many people have come young and old. Doctors, lawyers, reporters and even some teenagers were here hoping to get a big break for a school newspaper. The plush red atmosphere helps ease the nerves as you look out over the darkened Atlanta sky lit up by the coke factory, the CNN building and more.
A young girl with shoulder length brown hair sits at the bar, drink in one hand, cigarette in another and she peers at a mop headed kid in a cheap bohemian suit. She flips her shoulder length dark brown hair.
A young man nearby is shaking hands with many people and he keeps glancing over to a man who is about 20 with bleach blond hair. Almost as if this 18 year old knows him. The clock chimes the half hour mark when Sarah pipes up.
"Thirty more minutes and the end of the 19th century will be ours to celebrate!! To all humankind!!"
Tom, meticulously dressed in a cheap ‘bohemian’ suit (but arranged with an expensive tie to make it look less cheap), glances nervously in the direction of the woman at the bar and smiles through the tinkling cheers of glasses.
@#%$. He thought. [/i]What have I gotten myself into? A great internship, yeah, but this whole evening had been filled with weird yuppies and people I just don’t understand. Man, am I out of my league.[/i] Hell with it, he mutters to himself, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. She probably thinks I'm a waiter or something. Nervously, he approaches her, smiling shyly.
"Hi." he says.
The woman at the bar looked at the mop-headed kid saying hi to her through eyes darkly lined with eyeliner and heavy mascara.
“Tom Reedmore. Didn’t think id see you here.” She takes a puff of her cigarette and finishes the last of the clear liquid she was drinking. She stands up and extends her hand. She’s dressed in a tight black leather miniskirt with a fishnet top and a black bra. Her face pale and her lips a dark red.
“I don’t think you remember me. I asked you out and then you told me know because I was too freaky for you.”
Then the name comes flooding back into Toms mind. Lily Chantrell.
Tom sputters. Lily Chantrell? Holy @#%$!- I’d forgotten all about her!
"Hi!" he manages, repeating himself. God, I sound like an idiot. "What are you doing here?"
Lily looked at Tom with curious eyes. "They're with me. They won’t leave me alone." She laughed loudly and Tom knew it’s was a fake.
"Drew. He’s here to watch but under the guise of Youth Advisor for Y.I.P.P.E!" Looking at his odd stare she smiles somewhat real this time. "Ill explain later. We need to go off so I can make it look as if we're talking about coven stuff. There is some stuff you need to know. Like ... "
She drops her voice to a whisper. "Don’t eat the h'ordeurves."
She gets up with Tom and acts seductively in front of Drew, who, smiles and nods.
"I think he bought it. Where can we go to talk?"
Tom watched the woman with unblinking eyes, completely unsure as to what to make of this old classmate. I think someone's had a tee many martoonies, he thinks trying not to seem completely freaked out. At her request to go somewhere and talk, Tom nods. Sure. Why the hell not? It wouldn't be the first time a woman wearing little more than a bra invited me to go someplace private. Oh wait. Yes it would be.
…
This little shindig nice, but I would much rather be somewhere else thought Nicolas Brant, taking a drink of his Coke. Those new samples are the most interesting thing I've seen in years. I mean Atlanta's nice and all, but I could be getting so much more done at the lab right now. And of course they can't ever make a suit with pockets large enough to hold a paperback novel. I mean, So Long and Thanks for all the Fish may not be the best Hitchhiker book, but it’s better than this.
He checked his watch. "Good, only 30 more minutes before I can get out of this place." He took another sip of his Coke and surveyed the guests at the benefit once again. He checked his watch, sipping a coke and spies so many oddities. One could only wonder what they all had in common and why there were all here.
Nicolas replaces his drink with a fresh one from the tray of what appears to be a clean cut homeless man in a waiter’s outfit who looks out of place among some of the Asians.
…
This is definitely not my scene thought Layton. These rich people make more money in one day then I'll make in my entire life. What did I get myself into? Layton moved from person to person, offering a tray of drinks, half hoping someone would take the whole damn tray from him. Layton Hughes is in his late thirties, but looks somewhat older. He wears the waiters uniform a little uncomfortably, constant scratching at his neck. He keeps his face down, and never meets anyone's eyes. Most likely one of Sarah Darling's 'huddled masses'. Layton made his way around the party when Sarah noticed him.
"LAYTON!!" She walks up and hands a passing waiter his tray. "There are a few people id like you to meet. It will be ok sugar, they wont harm you in any way."
She introduces him to some people who all seem very nice but he knows he can feel their pity. Layton will grunt out greetings to the Beautiful People, and smile despite the condition of his teeth. I may be living on the streets and I may not have a job, but I'm still a human being. Damn.
…
A man in his early thirties walks in with a 20-something chippie on his arm. He looks uncomfortable in his tweed jacket with the patches on the elbows. The young lady on his arm whispers something in his ear and walks off gushing towards another twenty-something in a new Versace dress.
Uncomfortable in this setting, Terry Shortbread, PhD, walks to the bar looking for a tall glass of gin to get lost in for a while. He signals to the bar tender for a drink, dropping a 20 on the bar to pay for it. Disgusted by how few dollars he gets back in change, he decides he had better drink it slowly and make it last.
"Nah..." He slugs it back. "What else is there to do here but get drunk? Reminds me of my fraternity days. Get all dressed up and then drink until you're puking all over your good clothes."
Those were the days.
Terry looks around the room scanning for prior students. He had been embarrassed before by not noticing a former student. Especially one of his 'special' students, he thinks with a leer remembering that lanky blond that was begging for a higher grade on her mythology final just yesterday. Man, what she couldn't do with a long section of garden hose and a golf ball.
Terry looks around and recognizes one of his students with a prestigious local plastic surgeon. Now that he thinks about it, he does notice she is a bit more ... smoother and a little more ... bustier.
He walks over to his former student undressing her with his eyes. He walks up to the plastic surgeon,
"Hi, I'm Terry, and you are....."
“I’m Shelia’s – “ Dr. Shortbread ignored the response.
"Sheila, how absolutely wicked to see you here tonight. How are your studies progressing? If I remember correctly you were studying.....love potions and their affect on the early American settler? Fascinating topic!" he stifles a yawn at the same time.
"Oh Dr. Shortbread? You really think so? You see my reasons behind it were ..."
She grabbed him by the arm and started to walk off and then stops. She scuttles over to the plastic surgeon.
"Hunny he was my professor. I need to be nice! Go talk to some of your friends." She kisses his cheek and continues to bore the doctor with her reasoning behind her lecture.
Terry’s original date, Brenda, found him and his ex-student. The two girls eye each other as if they know each other and giggle. Brenda whispered something in Sheila’s ear and she blushes and nods. Both girls grin at the doctor and the three slip into a back storeroom where no one can see them. Allowing himself to be dragged off by two beautiful women is a no-brainer for Terry. In fact, this was one of those things that people wrote to .....What is the name of that rag....Forum about. Still Terry is cautious. Not a good idea to let the little head dictate what the big head is doing. One time when Terry was a kid, some boys tricked him into going into a closet after a present. The boys pantsed him and left him in the closet for three hours. Not going to let that happen.
"Girls...girls, there is plenty of Terry to share."
Not exactly known for his stamina, Dr Terry comes out of the closet a bit more rumpled than he was when he went in 10 minutes earlier. He hoped the girls had a good time, but if they didn't - ah who really cares? He got his.
Feeling decidedly studlier, he walks back out into the party hoping the rest of the party went as well as the first part.
…
Richard seems deep in thought while starring at the cute kid making his rounds as he blindly reaches for another hors d'oeuvre. He looks over to Sarah, hoping to get a chance to talk to her before this night is over. Richard takes steps toward Sarah and is blocked by the 18 year old kid.
“Richard Williams! I never thought id see you here!”
Richard scans his memory. Oh god! Its Drew from the Dark Veil of the Moon! I got to get outta here!
“We’ve missed you. Especially Janson. He has taught me so much and I am thankful. Would you like to get together sometime and … maybe do a ritual again?” He smiles, warm and inviting.
"Oh, hi Drew. How about I get back to you on that. I was just about to ask Sarah about something. You'll be around for a while, right?"
He nods and hands you his card that has the symbol on it. A crescent moon with the points up and a black veil super imposed on it. He smiles and keeps an eye on you. As you make your way to Sarah, you notice a young man talking to a girl at the bar. Oh my god! Another one! Lily Chantrell. What the hell is she doing here? With Drew no doubt, but he’s gay ... this is too much! He smiles and removes himself from Drew's presence and over to Sarah Darling. Sarah smiles at you.
"Richard! How are you?" She grabbed him by the shoulders to introduce him to several people. "He’s done several interviews with me and has done some research on the homeless. Fascinating stuff!"
Layton managed to use this opportunity to get away and go back into the kitchen. The Asian people seemed nice. They made such great smelling food. Sarah said that after the party, like the other help, he could take some 'home' if he wanted. She was already nice enough to feed him at an extremely nice steakhouse downtown called Cow Tippers. Granted it was a gay establishment but straight people went there for their steaks. And he understood why.
He looked at the logo. Tse's Tochix Chi's Restaurant. He’d have to remember that.
…
Calm, cool, and collected. A man clearly at home in the company of the elite and wealthy of Atlanta. Dr. Alexander Gentry moved easily through the crowds, making small talk and generally making his presence felt in the elegance of the Sundial. He is dressed in a custom-tailored dark blue wool pinstripe suit with penny loafers and a rakish yellow tie to complete the ensemble. He seems well liked by those he talks to, and many already know him quite well, considering the wealth and power his family has in the area. He stops near another group of doctors and begins talking quietly.
Dr. Gentry makes his way and has a drink and a couple of h'odeurves. Tasty he thinks. He approaches Sarah, smiling. He hands her a small box and smiles brightly.
"A gift for the giver."
After dropping off the gift with a warm smile and polite conversation, Dr. Gentry scans the crowd, clearly looking for someone in particular. His eyes stop on two well-dressed gentlemen and one woman standing near the corner, talking to each other. He approaches with a confident stride and introduces himself, making small talk, trying to win these three influential doctors over to his side.
"This party is getting worse by the minute. I sure hope something happens at midnight, because otherwise this is going to be another wasted new years.
Layton will continue to deliver food, drinks and whatever else is needed. His suit is slowly getting looser, and it looks like he’s close to ripping his tie off all together.
Part Two
Dr. Gentry started making idle conversations and only seemed to piss the people off by talking about how he knows Sarah and his vast amounts of wealth. Noticing this, Dr. Gentry quickly notes the change of tone of his fellows, and takes a nervous drink. He considered a new tactic and then nodded to himself. Steering the conversation away from himself, he began to ask the doctors about recent activities within the CDC hoping to find an opening where he might mention he could fit in.
The waiter carrying drinks last seen with Sarah, Layton Hughes, seems to be getting mighty fidgety and makes off towards the bathrooms. As he enters the gentleman’s room, he notices two teens (one of which is wearing hardly nothing, talking outside the girls bathroom.
Tom and Lily walk right outside the girl’s restroom. "Look," she says scanning the crowd and then quiets down and resumes once the obvious homeless man walks in the door. "You need to stay away from Drew. He knows you go to High School with me but I told him id talk to you about joining."
She looks at your blank face. "You know that coven at school? The pagan group? Well he started it. I know some stuff and I need to talk to you later. In case something happens." She kissed Tom on the cheek and walked away.
Nicolas is looking out the window and watching the city of Atlanta spin by. A waiter comes by.
"H'ordeurve?"
"Sarah, great to see you. Quite a crowd you have here. I'm really surprised to see some people I know. I didn't know you had such acquaintances."
Sarah looks at Richard and smiles. "Yes I appear to be quite popular although I don’t know EVERYONE here. So how have you been?"
Richard noticed the girl from the bar (who disappeared with the young man) come from the restrooms rather hurriedly and then leave the party as he was talking to Sarah. She looked familiar to him. He saw Drew saying his quick goodbyes, flashing him a smile and then leaving after her. Then it him. He knew that girl. Lily Chantrell. Also a member of that coven.
Tom turned beet red after being kissed and considered what she has said. A pagan group? She wanted him to join a coven of pagans? Well, I’ve done stranger things before, and it would probably make for some good stories- not that I have anyone to tell them to. And who exactly is this Drew guy? Is he dangerous? Tom walked back out into the party room and looked around, scanning for Lily. Decidedly passing up any of the food in the room, but feeling very thirsty, he poured himself a cranberry juice and watched for anything strange. Strange? Here? Ha!
Nicolas took one of the h'ordeurves off the tray and examined it before taking a bite. "Thank you. Mmmm, interesting flavor."
Layton moved through the crowd, invisible, delivering mouthfuls of food and sips of champagne. Only 3 minutes until a new year, Layton thought. Maybe this year something will turn up for me.
Tom looked around and didn’t see her anywhere. He brushed against the homeless man heading into the kitchen. People started heading up to Sarah shaking her hand and handing her small trinkets with whispers of pre-happy birthdays.
People were laughing and having a general good time as they stood looking out the window to Atlanta Underground where a large peach was hoisted in the air and was about to begin it’s decent to bring in the New Year.
Tom, confounded, but still trying to be as cordial as the southern gentleman he was raised to be approached Sarah. "Thank you for inviting me to your party, Mrs. Darling. I'm having a great time," he says, eyeballing the dropping peach.
"Wow, a peach. Only mere seconds until a new year." Nicolas Brant raises his Coke in the air in silent salute to nothing in particular.
Richard turns to watch the peach drop, hoping that just focusing on the fruit will help dispel that queasy nervousness in his gut. Maybe tomorrow I can just sleep it all away.
Terry thinks, Hmmm it's a new year. Why are they starting to count at 15? I thought they always started counting at 10. Am I in some parallel universe. Did I blow my mind in addition to.....oh never mind. Don't need to go there.
Looking for his new favorite date, Terry starts counting with the crowd unless some big hairy monster pops out of the cake. "..12...11..10..."
Dr. Gentry raises his champagne glass, turning slightly away from his colleagues to look out the window at the vision of the city as the century draws to a close. His lips mouth the numbers as they count down, and a strange essence of excitement and anticipation begins to grow. So many years, and his dreams of joining the CDC are now closer than ever. This time next year, he would have his goal...
Layton continues to offer drinks to the guests, unmindful of the fact that there are all staring at the dropping peach, glasses already held high.
Another year, another year, thinks Layton. Same as any other. Layton looks glumly at the peach and thinks of the good times he had over in the middle east. When he mattered.
10
Everyone gathered around watching their breath fog up the cold glass.
9
The peach slowly starts to descend.
8
Party favors and cheep cardboard hats are put on, anticipating the year of change.
7
Smiles and premature kissing are all around.
6
Layton ducks into the kitchen, feeling bad for himself noticing the Asian caterers gone.
5
Terry, Tom, Alexander and Nicolas notice a young dark haired man with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep enter the party without a shirt.
4
The four notice he is carrying a shotgun.
3
Richard keeps his eyes peeled on the peach, finding this very fascinating, unlike traditional New England customs.
2
The man raises the shotgun and aims at those with their faces plastered against the glass.
1
A shot goes off. Those by one of the windows continue to smile with visions of a new year taking flight and taking forth. Too bad they will never see it happen. No, they only see the dark, cold, inky black road coming to them fast and then nothing. A scream below rings in the New Year. The young man takes aim again.
Part Three
Richard is torn out of his thoughts by the loud shot. Turning toward the sound, he reacts to the sight of the man with the gun by immediately grabbing Sarah and pulling her under a nearby table. She yelps and is pulled under one of the booth tables, hoping they aren’t targeted by the killer.
"Damn, I wish I had my Baretta here." Terry looks around for a large serving plate that could be used as a killer Frisbee. Being around colleges for the last 13 years, Terry is known for his deadly accuracy with a Frisbee out on the University of Georgia's commons.
Terry spots a saucer left by a graciously dead guest. "Mind if I borrow this?" Terry asks the dead body. "Thanks." Terry takes the saucer flinging it at the killer hitting him. The killer breaks his shotgun and reloads, staring straight at Terry.
Dr. Gentry is shocked by the shotgun blast, and freezes in place as he tries to comprehend what is happening. His eyes immediately go from the shooter to the victims, and he dives towards them, trying to crawl across the floor to help them however he can. When he reaches them, he finds however they are all beyond hope.
Layton runs into the main room, the silvered plate filled with party favors forgotten. Sounds definitely like a shotgun, Layton thinks. Maybe a Mossberg M590 from the action, maybe a SPAS. When Layton sees the blood and hears the screams, he scans for the shooter. His eyes land on the shirtless man with the shotgun. There.
"Shooter! Shooter!!"
The homeless waiter makes a dive for the killer landing crashing into the nearby table.
Nicolas Brant turned at the warning shouts to see a waiter run out of the kitchen and attempt to flying tackle the shooter. In seconds he was drawing his Baretta M92, the gun coming up. He acquired the man in his sights just like he was at the shooting range and fired, missing him and nearly hitting the waiter!
As the gun's action worked, a little voice in his head whispered "Damn! Missed! I knew they're were gonna get me at the party."
Hearing more gunfire from his hiding place, Tom screams, but manages to stifle himself. He hears the sound of police sirens in the distance. "Oh god i hope they hurry up." he thinks.
The young man walks over to the table Richard and Sarah are hiding under. Smiling and revealing perfect straight white teeth, he aims the shotgun and pulls the trigger. Both Richard and Sarah slump to the floor, in a pool of blood. The young man stands and starts walking toward another group on the other side of the restaurant.
Terry stands there, appalled by what he has seen. A young man blowing away Sarah and a man who tried to save her. Terry starts to scream and cry, unsure of what to do next!
Dr Gentry crawled over and found that Sarah is dead but is able to stabilize Richard. If only for a little while.
In his moment of relived glory, Layton Hughes, tries to tackle the killer, succeeding. The killer fell face first to the floor, holding on to the shotgun for dear life trying to bring it up.
Nicolas drops his gun after seeing Richard and Sarah blown away. He looks around and notices all the dark red blood running down the windows and floors. He starts throwing up and keeps his eyes tightly closed.
Tom stays at the table he’s under and starts throwing up. He was at eye level and saw Richard and Sarah's faces. He pukes knowing that poor man will need some serious help!
The young man struggles to get up under Laytons body. He manages to struggle enough and gets up bringing the shotgun to shoulder. He blasts another crowd of people, with terry watching as the two sexy blonds are now red heads and the Nameless Man with his ex-student now had no head.
Terry is still panicking and trying not to get shot.
Dr Gentry is still stabilizing the wounds of the innocent man.
Layton Hughes, still not satisfied as his Red-Blooded American heritage kicks in, tries to tackle the killer, again, and grabs onto his back (although the young man is still standing).
Nicolas continues to hold his eyes shut and puke.
Tom stayed at under the table avoiding eye contact from anyone.
The young man struggles with Layton again but Laytons grip is just a bit tighter. The young man brought the gun up and Layton became frightened for the first time tonight and watched as the young mans face is blown off. Layton dropped clasping his ears due to the deafening blast of the shotgun.
The kid fell down dropping the shotgun. Everyone except the six was dead. Blood was pooling everywhere. Somehow, they all managed to survive the massacre. The sirens have gotten closer and closer by the second since the first gunshot sounded.
The police bust in yelling "FREEZE!" Everyone, except Dr. Gentry raised their hands and stood. "We have a live one over here but barely. I need an ambulance now!"
A police officer called for an ambulance on the dark, dreary night. Dr. Gentry escorted the near death man to the ambulance and rode with him to the Atlanta Medical Center five minutes away.
A police officer escorted everyone downtown for questioning and statements.
Happy New Years ...
Part Four
At the Atlanta Medical Center …
The ambulance pulled in and escorted Richard off to surgery. A young orderly walked up to Alexander Gentry. "What happened to him?"
Dr. Gentry moved quickly with the stretcher as it rolled through the hospital. His clothes were completely soaked in blood and other unmentionables, but he seemed remarkably calm.
"GSW, Male in his early 30's. There'll be more coming in, but expect a good number of them to be DOA. A maniac broke into the sundial."
The doctors nod and were getting everything ready. The orderly just shrugged and watched Alexander walk on by.
As the night passed, Richard was moved into Intensive Care and monitored. He was still unconscious. Dr. Alexander Gentry, never one to smoke, decided to step outside for some cool air. The night seemed to slow down as the flashing red lights from the ambulance the bodies coming into the hospital, all inside body bags and the hospital seemed to take on a slight chill. Several of the nurses and orderlies were outside smoking, having no idea what happened tonight. Sure, they’d read about it or watch it on the morning news. But to actually have gone through it, that’s another story.
The same orderly that bugged Dr. Gentry earlier rushed outside to him "Doctor, I don’t mean to interrupt but they told me to tell you Mr. Williams has regained consciousness."
Dr. Gentry rushed in to room 313 and saw Richard Williams sitting there calmly. Dr. Gentry looked over to Richard who calmly replied, "I’m waiting for the doctor."
Dr. Gentry looked surprised for a moment to see Richards awake, considering the circumstances of the past few hours. He recovered quickly, and stepped forward confidently. "I am the doctor who had you brought here, Mr. Williams."
He took a moment to pull out the chart at the foot of the bed and quickly looked it over as he continued speaking.
"How are you feeling right now? Do you remember what happened?"
"Sorry Doctor, I . . . I think I'm still in shock or something. Is Sarah OK? I remember us being shot and I'm not sure how I could have made it through that. I should thank you very much, and I do, I mean . . . well, thank you . . . This feels like it's happening so fast." Richard's mood alternates between calm lucidity and panicked confusion.
…
At the Atlanta Police Department…
The police escorted everyone into separate rooms and asked for statements.
Layton gave a rambling account of what happened, starting with the Gulf War, the poisons that the government made him ingest, and ending with the United States secret funding of tobacco farms, and how they have introduced chemicals that might just control the brain. Oh yes, and he also mentions the events of tonight.
The cops let Layton go on his merry way, finding him completely innocent.
…
A shaky Tom, after drinking four or five glasses of water, told exactly what happened, at least how he had seen it. He left out the part of the pagan organization, however, feeling that would get him into more trouble than it's worth.
They nod and a flustered woman with dirty blond hair rushes in clutching him to her bosom as if it were the last day on earth. It was then he realized it could have been. The dark cold atmosphere of the police station woke him up a bit and its then all too clear. You could have been killed. Just like Sarah
"Hunny are you ok??" She continued to hug him as moms tend to do. "Lets get you home. I think you better stay home from school tomorrow. Just in case."
…
"My name is Nicolas Brant and I'm a graduate student at Miskatonic University. I'm in Atlantic for break, decided to go to the Sundial because my friend Phil Wynn had given me a ticket. I had a few drinks, ate some food, and then at midnight, I see this guy come in, take out a shotgun, and start shooting. A waiter ran out of the kitchen and tried to tackle him, but missed. I drew my Baretta M92 and fired at him but missed. Then he walked over and shot Sarah and that other guy. I don't remember anything after that, but when I came back I was on my knees and there was a pool of vomit in front of me."
He started shaking. "I'm so sorry. If I had got him nobody would have died. I should've hit him, I should've hit him."
They took down Nicolas' information. "I’m assuming you have a place to stay here. I think it would be best if you stay in town for a while."
…
Dr Terry gives a very detailed account of what happened, drawing on his writing experience, he gave a detailed accounting of what he saw starting with the top of the blonde’s head continuing on until the police broke in.
"I have to compliment the police department here in Atlanta. It was amazing that it only took two minutes form the time the shooting started until the time you were breaking into the room. That was fine police work."
Thinking on this for a minute Terry begins to believe that there may have been a conspiracy here.
"How did they get here so quickly, were they expecting to happen. Was the shooter the police chief's son. Is the mayor in on the killing? Was there another shooter, maybe on the grassy knoll?"
The cops looked at Terry rather disturbed. "We were at the Peach Dropping ceremony nearly a block away. That’s how we got there so fast. Besides, someone called in and said something bad might happen. Do you know anything you aren’t telling us Mr. Shortbread?"
Terry laughed it off. "Oh no, just my over active imagination kicking into over drive. I'm a writer you know. We are always asking the eternal question, why?”
“Interesting that someone knew it was going to happen in advance. Did you get a description of the voice? Any clues?"
“Actually, yes, the voice was a girl. I want to say a teenager. We would have been here sooner but we thought it was a prank like all the other calls."
"I do a lot of investigative work myself you know. I am currently working on my new book, Bigfoot Comes to Buckhead . It will be a very detailed account of a Bigfoot sighting that I took part in several years ago. Quite fascinating really. Did you know that the Native American Indians of Georgia have legends of a large hairy man that walked the swamps around this very city? Just fascinating, really."
They do their best to stifle the chuckle at the mention of Bigfoot. "Sounds like a best seller Mr. Shortbread.”
“That’s Dr Shortbread, not Mr." Terry is a bit miffed at the obvious snub to his position. "Is there anything else that I can do to help? Do you have any leads that need to be run down. I would be happy to lend my professional experience to help resolve the issue."
"Do you know anything about this, Doctor?" The police chief showed him a picture of the gunman on a table, obviously taken in the morgue. The man had an odd tattoo. It appears to be that of a tarot card. A young man on the edge of a cliff with a small dog beside him.
Dr Terry says, "Hold on. Now don't shoot me, I'm going to reach into my pocket." He draws out a small handheld computer which he then connects to his cell phone via a data cable that works with the handheld computer. After a few warbles of the handheld modem, he connects to the Internet. "I love these little babies. They are incredible."
"Ok, here it is. It is the symbol of the Fool. Here let me read it:
Fool is the person undergoing the process of spiritual change. The image on the card shows the fool carrying a satchel, which contains the treasure of true happiness, though apparently the fool isn't aware of this. The treasure of true happiness is always at hand, regardless of our material circumstances--we don't need money, we don't need love, we don't even need bodily health. Happiness is in the mind, and the mind we can control and change (at least to some extent).
Another interpretation of the satchel is that it represents all that can be created by our imagination. Imagination allows us to create whatever it is we want, and thus is our most valuable possession--but the fool seems unaware of this.
The human mind's capability for self-deception is notorious, but we sometimes fail to appreciate the true significance of this capability--in particular, we often fail to appreciate that self-deception isn't necessarily bad. If, by a simple act of imagination, we can change from perceiving ourselves as poor to perceiving ourselves as rich, then why bother trying to become wealthy according to material reality? We scoff at beggars in the street who tell passersby how they are millionaires in disguise--but if they really believe they are rich and this reduces their pain, whereas consciousness of being poor would increase their pain, then what is so foolish about their self-deception? Perhaps the true fools are those who accept reality even when this acceptance leads to pain. This line of reasoning can be applied to religions and other belief systems which are false according to material science, but which do much to reduce the pain of people's lives--what does it matter whether these belief systems are "true" or not, so long as they work?
The fool is about to step off a cliff, whose solidity represents the certainty of the existing set of spiritual values. The abyss below the cliff represents the uncertainty that results when, as part of the process of spiritual change, the existing spiritual values are abandoned and a search is made for new values.
The dog beside the fool may be a reference to the dog and wolf of the Moon card--we are always accompanied by the desires of our soul, which ideally will be tamed, but we must remember that these tamed desires were originally wild, and might revert to wildness at any time.
Finally, the fool is sometimes associated with the Uranus principle -- "an original impulse coming from a strange and unexpected quarter" (from the instructional booklet by James Wasserman for the Crowley Thoth Tarot deck (1978) ).
"Well that just about fits our man now doesn't it."
The police chief looks at Dr. Shortbread. "Hrm. You may prove useful after all. Would you like to help us doctor?"
"Certainly, I will always cooperate with the law. What would you like me to do? Do I get a badge? That would impress the women now wouldn't it. Ok, ok, I suppose that might not be the best use of a badge. But it works...doesn't it? Come on, you can tell me."
((I should mention this is my Play By Post Group and on the main message, I had the date and time set. It started at 11:40 pm December 31st of 1998. I have recently moved my boards and it can be found here:
http://www.goand.net/home/board.php?BOARD_ID=93
I also want to apologize for the format as some if it is past tense and some is present tense. I took it straight from my game and tried to change it around to all past tense.))
Part One
Everyone gathered in the plush elegance of the Sundial; a rotating restaurant of Atlanta. Ms. Sarah Darling has reserved it for the evening to host her last humanitarian act of 1998. It’s a benefit for the homeless. Many people have come young and old. Doctors, lawyers, reporters and even some teenagers were here hoping to get a big break for a school newspaper. The plush red atmosphere helps ease the nerves as you look out over the darkened Atlanta sky lit up by the coke factory, the CNN building and more.
A young girl with shoulder length brown hair sits at the bar, drink in one hand, cigarette in another and she peers at a mop headed kid in a cheap bohemian suit. She flips her shoulder length dark brown hair.
A young man nearby is shaking hands with many people and he keeps glancing over to a man who is about 20 with bleach blond hair. Almost as if this 18 year old knows him. The clock chimes the half hour mark when Sarah pipes up.
"Thirty more minutes and the end of the 19th century will be ours to celebrate!! To all humankind!!"
Tom, meticulously dressed in a cheap ‘bohemian’ suit (but arranged with an expensive tie to make it look less cheap), glances nervously in the direction of the woman at the bar and smiles through the tinkling cheers of glasses.
@#%$. He thought. [/i]What have I gotten myself into? A great internship, yeah, but this whole evening had been filled with weird yuppies and people I just don’t understand. Man, am I out of my league.[/i] Hell with it, he mutters to himself, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. She probably thinks I'm a waiter or something. Nervously, he approaches her, smiling shyly.
"Hi." he says.
The woman at the bar looked at the mop-headed kid saying hi to her through eyes darkly lined with eyeliner and heavy mascara.
“Tom Reedmore. Didn’t think id see you here.” She takes a puff of her cigarette and finishes the last of the clear liquid she was drinking. She stands up and extends her hand. She’s dressed in a tight black leather miniskirt with a fishnet top and a black bra. Her face pale and her lips a dark red.
“I don’t think you remember me. I asked you out and then you told me know because I was too freaky for you.”
Then the name comes flooding back into Toms mind. Lily Chantrell.
Tom sputters. Lily Chantrell? Holy @#%$!- I’d forgotten all about her!
"Hi!" he manages, repeating himself. God, I sound like an idiot. "What are you doing here?"
Lily looked at Tom with curious eyes. "They're with me. They won’t leave me alone." She laughed loudly and Tom knew it’s was a fake.
"Drew. He’s here to watch but under the guise of Youth Advisor for Y.I.P.P.E!" Looking at his odd stare she smiles somewhat real this time. "Ill explain later. We need to go off so I can make it look as if we're talking about coven stuff. There is some stuff you need to know. Like ... "
She drops her voice to a whisper. "Don’t eat the h'ordeurves."
She gets up with Tom and acts seductively in front of Drew, who, smiles and nods.
"I think he bought it. Where can we go to talk?"
Tom watched the woman with unblinking eyes, completely unsure as to what to make of this old classmate. I think someone's had a tee many martoonies, he thinks trying not to seem completely freaked out. At her request to go somewhere and talk, Tom nods. Sure. Why the hell not? It wouldn't be the first time a woman wearing little more than a bra invited me to go someplace private. Oh wait. Yes it would be.
…
This little shindig nice, but I would much rather be somewhere else thought Nicolas Brant, taking a drink of his Coke. Those new samples are the most interesting thing I've seen in years. I mean Atlanta's nice and all, but I could be getting so much more done at the lab right now. And of course they can't ever make a suit with pockets large enough to hold a paperback novel. I mean, So Long and Thanks for all the Fish may not be the best Hitchhiker book, but it’s better than this.
He checked his watch. "Good, only 30 more minutes before I can get out of this place." He took another sip of his Coke and surveyed the guests at the benefit once again. He checked his watch, sipping a coke and spies so many oddities. One could only wonder what they all had in common and why there were all here.
Nicolas replaces his drink with a fresh one from the tray of what appears to be a clean cut homeless man in a waiter’s outfit who looks out of place among some of the Asians.
…
This is definitely not my scene thought Layton. These rich people make more money in one day then I'll make in my entire life. What did I get myself into? Layton moved from person to person, offering a tray of drinks, half hoping someone would take the whole damn tray from him. Layton Hughes is in his late thirties, but looks somewhat older. He wears the waiters uniform a little uncomfortably, constant scratching at his neck. He keeps his face down, and never meets anyone's eyes. Most likely one of Sarah Darling's 'huddled masses'. Layton made his way around the party when Sarah noticed him.
"LAYTON!!" She walks up and hands a passing waiter his tray. "There are a few people id like you to meet. It will be ok sugar, they wont harm you in any way."
She introduces him to some people who all seem very nice but he knows he can feel their pity. Layton will grunt out greetings to the Beautiful People, and smile despite the condition of his teeth. I may be living on the streets and I may not have a job, but I'm still a human being. Damn.
…
A man in his early thirties walks in with a 20-something chippie on his arm. He looks uncomfortable in his tweed jacket with the patches on the elbows. The young lady on his arm whispers something in his ear and walks off gushing towards another twenty-something in a new Versace dress.
Uncomfortable in this setting, Terry Shortbread, PhD, walks to the bar looking for a tall glass of gin to get lost in for a while. He signals to the bar tender for a drink, dropping a 20 on the bar to pay for it. Disgusted by how few dollars he gets back in change, he decides he had better drink it slowly and make it last.
"Nah..." He slugs it back. "What else is there to do here but get drunk? Reminds me of my fraternity days. Get all dressed up and then drink until you're puking all over your good clothes."
Those were the days.
Terry looks around the room scanning for prior students. He had been embarrassed before by not noticing a former student. Especially one of his 'special' students, he thinks with a leer remembering that lanky blond that was begging for a higher grade on her mythology final just yesterday. Man, what she couldn't do with a long section of garden hose and a golf ball.
Terry looks around and recognizes one of his students with a prestigious local plastic surgeon. Now that he thinks about it, he does notice she is a bit more ... smoother and a little more ... bustier.
He walks over to his former student undressing her with his eyes. He walks up to the plastic surgeon,
"Hi, I'm Terry, and you are....."
“I’m Shelia’s – “ Dr. Shortbread ignored the response.
"Sheila, how absolutely wicked to see you here tonight. How are your studies progressing? If I remember correctly you were studying.....love potions and their affect on the early American settler? Fascinating topic!" he stifles a yawn at the same time.
"Oh Dr. Shortbread? You really think so? You see my reasons behind it were ..."
She grabbed him by the arm and started to walk off and then stops. She scuttles over to the plastic surgeon.
"Hunny he was my professor. I need to be nice! Go talk to some of your friends." She kisses his cheek and continues to bore the doctor with her reasoning behind her lecture.
Terry’s original date, Brenda, found him and his ex-student. The two girls eye each other as if they know each other and giggle. Brenda whispered something in Sheila’s ear and she blushes and nods. Both girls grin at the doctor and the three slip into a back storeroom where no one can see them. Allowing himself to be dragged off by two beautiful women is a no-brainer for Terry. In fact, this was one of those things that people wrote to .....What is the name of that rag....Forum about. Still Terry is cautious. Not a good idea to let the little head dictate what the big head is doing. One time when Terry was a kid, some boys tricked him into going into a closet after a present. The boys pantsed him and left him in the closet for three hours. Not going to let that happen.
"Girls...girls, there is plenty of Terry to share."
Not exactly known for his stamina, Dr Terry comes out of the closet a bit more rumpled than he was when he went in 10 minutes earlier. He hoped the girls had a good time, but if they didn't - ah who really cares? He got his.
Feeling decidedly studlier, he walks back out into the party hoping the rest of the party went as well as the first part.
…
Richard seems deep in thought while starring at the cute kid making his rounds as he blindly reaches for another hors d'oeuvre. He looks over to Sarah, hoping to get a chance to talk to her before this night is over. Richard takes steps toward Sarah and is blocked by the 18 year old kid.
“Richard Williams! I never thought id see you here!”
Richard scans his memory. Oh god! Its Drew from the Dark Veil of the Moon! I got to get outta here!
“We’ve missed you. Especially Janson. He has taught me so much and I am thankful. Would you like to get together sometime and … maybe do a ritual again?” He smiles, warm and inviting.
"Oh, hi Drew. How about I get back to you on that. I was just about to ask Sarah about something. You'll be around for a while, right?"
He nods and hands you his card that has the symbol on it. A crescent moon with the points up and a black veil super imposed on it. He smiles and keeps an eye on you. As you make your way to Sarah, you notice a young man talking to a girl at the bar. Oh my god! Another one! Lily Chantrell. What the hell is she doing here? With Drew no doubt, but he’s gay ... this is too much! He smiles and removes himself from Drew's presence and over to Sarah Darling. Sarah smiles at you.
"Richard! How are you?" She grabbed him by the shoulders to introduce him to several people. "He’s done several interviews with me and has done some research on the homeless. Fascinating stuff!"
Layton managed to use this opportunity to get away and go back into the kitchen. The Asian people seemed nice. They made such great smelling food. Sarah said that after the party, like the other help, he could take some 'home' if he wanted. She was already nice enough to feed him at an extremely nice steakhouse downtown called Cow Tippers. Granted it was a gay establishment but straight people went there for their steaks. And he understood why.
He looked at the logo. Tse's Tochix Chi's Restaurant. He’d have to remember that.
…
Calm, cool, and collected. A man clearly at home in the company of the elite and wealthy of Atlanta. Dr. Alexander Gentry moved easily through the crowds, making small talk and generally making his presence felt in the elegance of the Sundial. He is dressed in a custom-tailored dark blue wool pinstripe suit with penny loafers and a rakish yellow tie to complete the ensemble. He seems well liked by those he talks to, and many already know him quite well, considering the wealth and power his family has in the area. He stops near another group of doctors and begins talking quietly.
Dr. Gentry makes his way and has a drink and a couple of h'odeurves. Tasty he thinks. He approaches Sarah, smiling. He hands her a small box and smiles brightly.
"A gift for the giver."
After dropping off the gift with a warm smile and polite conversation, Dr. Gentry scans the crowd, clearly looking for someone in particular. His eyes stop on two well-dressed gentlemen and one woman standing near the corner, talking to each other. He approaches with a confident stride and introduces himself, making small talk, trying to win these three influential doctors over to his side.
"This party is getting worse by the minute. I sure hope something happens at midnight, because otherwise this is going to be another wasted new years.
Layton will continue to deliver food, drinks and whatever else is needed. His suit is slowly getting looser, and it looks like he’s close to ripping his tie off all together.
Part Two
Dr. Gentry started making idle conversations and only seemed to piss the people off by talking about how he knows Sarah and his vast amounts of wealth. Noticing this, Dr. Gentry quickly notes the change of tone of his fellows, and takes a nervous drink. He considered a new tactic and then nodded to himself. Steering the conversation away from himself, he began to ask the doctors about recent activities within the CDC hoping to find an opening where he might mention he could fit in.
The waiter carrying drinks last seen with Sarah, Layton Hughes, seems to be getting mighty fidgety and makes off towards the bathrooms. As he enters the gentleman’s room, he notices two teens (one of which is wearing hardly nothing, talking outside the girls bathroom.
Tom and Lily walk right outside the girl’s restroom. "Look," she says scanning the crowd and then quiets down and resumes once the obvious homeless man walks in the door. "You need to stay away from Drew. He knows you go to High School with me but I told him id talk to you about joining."
She looks at your blank face. "You know that coven at school? The pagan group? Well he started it. I know some stuff and I need to talk to you later. In case something happens." She kissed Tom on the cheek and walked away.
Nicolas is looking out the window and watching the city of Atlanta spin by. A waiter comes by.
"H'ordeurve?"
"Sarah, great to see you. Quite a crowd you have here. I'm really surprised to see some people I know. I didn't know you had such acquaintances."
Sarah looks at Richard and smiles. "Yes I appear to be quite popular although I don’t know EVERYONE here. So how have you been?"
Richard noticed the girl from the bar (who disappeared with the young man) come from the restrooms rather hurriedly and then leave the party as he was talking to Sarah. She looked familiar to him. He saw Drew saying his quick goodbyes, flashing him a smile and then leaving after her. Then it him. He knew that girl. Lily Chantrell. Also a member of that coven.
Tom turned beet red after being kissed and considered what she has said. A pagan group? She wanted him to join a coven of pagans? Well, I’ve done stranger things before, and it would probably make for some good stories- not that I have anyone to tell them to. And who exactly is this Drew guy? Is he dangerous? Tom walked back out into the party room and looked around, scanning for Lily. Decidedly passing up any of the food in the room, but feeling very thirsty, he poured himself a cranberry juice and watched for anything strange. Strange? Here? Ha!
Nicolas took one of the h'ordeurves off the tray and examined it before taking a bite. "Thank you. Mmmm, interesting flavor."
Layton moved through the crowd, invisible, delivering mouthfuls of food and sips of champagne. Only 3 minutes until a new year, Layton thought. Maybe this year something will turn up for me.
Tom looked around and didn’t see her anywhere. He brushed against the homeless man heading into the kitchen. People started heading up to Sarah shaking her hand and handing her small trinkets with whispers of pre-happy birthdays.
People were laughing and having a general good time as they stood looking out the window to Atlanta Underground where a large peach was hoisted in the air and was about to begin it’s decent to bring in the New Year.
Tom, confounded, but still trying to be as cordial as the southern gentleman he was raised to be approached Sarah. "Thank you for inviting me to your party, Mrs. Darling. I'm having a great time," he says, eyeballing the dropping peach.
"Wow, a peach. Only mere seconds until a new year." Nicolas Brant raises his Coke in the air in silent salute to nothing in particular.
Richard turns to watch the peach drop, hoping that just focusing on the fruit will help dispel that queasy nervousness in his gut. Maybe tomorrow I can just sleep it all away.
Terry thinks, Hmmm it's a new year. Why are they starting to count at 15? I thought they always started counting at 10. Am I in some parallel universe. Did I blow my mind in addition to.....oh never mind. Don't need to go there.
Looking for his new favorite date, Terry starts counting with the crowd unless some big hairy monster pops out of the cake. "..12...11..10..."
Dr. Gentry raises his champagne glass, turning slightly away from his colleagues to look out the window at the vision of the city as the century draws to a close. His lips mouth the numbers as they count down, and a strange essence of excitement and anticipation begins to grow. So many years, and his dreams of joining the CDC are now closer than ever. This time next year, he would have his goal...
Layton continues to offer drinks to the guests, unmindful of the fact that there are all staring at the dropping peach, glasses already held high.
Another year, another year, thinks Layton. Same as any other. Layton looks glumly at the peach and thinks of the good times he had over in the middle east. When he mattered.
10
Everyone gathered around watching their breath fog up the cold glass.
9
The peach slowly starts to descend.
8
Party favors and cheep cardboard hats are put on, anticipating the year of change.
7
Smiles and premature kissing are all around.
6
Layton ducks into the kitchen, feeling bad for himself noticing the Asian caterers gone.
5
Terry, Tom, Alexander and Nicolas notice a young dark haired man with dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep enter the party without a shirt.
4
The four notice he is carrying a shotgun.
3
Richard keeps his eyes peeled on the peach, finding this very fascinating, unlike traditional New England customs.
2
The man raises the shotgun and aims at those with their faces plastered against the glass.
1
A shot goes off. Those by one of the windows continue to smile with visions of a new year taking flight and taking forth. Too bad they will never see it happen. No, they only see the dark, cold, inky black road coming to them fast and then nothing. A scream below rings in the New Year. The young man takes aim again.
Part Three
Richard is torn out of his thoughts by the loud shot. Turning toward the sound, he reacts to the sight of the man with the gun by immediately grabbing Sarah and pulling her under a nearby table. She yelps and is pulled under one of the booth tables, hoping they aren’t targeted by the killer.
"Damn, I wish I had my Baretta here." Terry looks around for a large serving plate that could be used as a killer Frisbee. Being around colleges for the last 13 years, Terry is known for his deadly accuracy with a Frisbee out on the University of Georgia's commons.
Terry spots a saucer left by a graciously dead guest. "Mind if I borrow this?" Terry asks the dead body. "Thanks." Terry takes the saucer flinging it at the killer hitting him. The killer breaks his shotgun and reloads, staring straight at Terry.
Dr. Gentry is shocked by the shotgun blast, and freezes in place as he tries to comprehend what is happening. His eyes immediately go from the shooter to the victims, and he dives towards them, trying to crawl across the floor to help them however he can. When he reaches them, he finds however they are all beyond hope.
Layton runs into the main room, the silvered plate filled with party favors forgotten. Sounds definitely like a shotgun, Layton thinks. Maybe a Mossberg M590 from the action, maybe a SPAS. When Layton sees the blood and hears the screams, he scans for the shooter. His eyes land on the shirtless man with the shotgun. There.
"Shooter! Shooter!!"
The homeless waiter makes a dive for the killer landing crashing into the nearby table.
Nicolas Brant turned at the warning shouts to see a waiter run out of the kitchen and attempt to flying tackle the shooter. In seconds he was drawing his Baretta M92, the gun coming up. He acquired the man in his sights just like he was at the shooting range and fired, missing him and nearly hitting the waiter!
As the gun's action worked, a little voice in his head whispered "Damn! Missed! I knew they're were gonna get me at the party."
Hearing more gunfire from his hiding place, Tom screams, but manages to stifle himself. He hears the sound of police sirens in the distance. "Oh god i hope they hurry up." he thinks.
The young man walks over to the table Richard and Sarah are hiding under. Smiling and revealing perfect straight white teeth, he aims the shotgun and pulls the trigger. Both Richard and Sarah slump to the floor, in a pool of blood. The young man stands and starts walking toward another group on the other side of the restaurant.
Terry stands there, appalled by what he has seen. A young man blowing away Sarah and a man who tried to save her. Terry starts to scream and cry, unsure of what to do next!
Dr Gentry crawled over and found that Sarah is dead but is able to stabilize Richard. If only for a little while.
In his moment of relived glory, Layton Hughes, tries to tackle the killer, succeeding. The killer fell face first to the floor, holding on to the shotgun for dear life trying to bring it up.
Nicolas drops his gun after seeing Richard and Sarah blown away. He looks around and notices all the dark red blood running down the windows and floors. He starts throwing up and keeps his eyes tightly closed.
Tom stays at the table he’s under and starts throwing up. He was at eye level and saw Richard and Sarah's faces. He pukes knowing that poor man will need some serious help!
The young man struggles to get up under Laytons body. He manages to struggle enough and gets up bringing the shotgun to shoulder. He blasts another crowd of people, with terry watching as the two sexy blonds are now red heads and the Nameless Man with his ex-student now had no head.
Terry is still panicking and trying not to get shot.
Dr Gentry is still stabilizing the wounds of the innocent man.
Layton Hughes, still not satisfied as his Red-Blooded American heritage kicks in, tries to tackle the killer, again, and grabs onto his back (although the young man is still standing).
Nicolas continues to hold his eyes shut and puke.
Tom stayed at under the table avoiding eye contact from anyone.
The young man struggles with Layton again but Laytons grip is just a bit tighter. The young man brought the gun up and Layton became frightened for the first time tonight and watched as the young mans face is blown off. Layton dropped clasping his ears due to the deafening blast of the shotgun.
The kid fell down dropping the shotgun. Everyone except the six was dead. Blood was pooling everywhere. Somehow, they all managed to survive the massacre. The sirens have gotten closer and closer by the second since the first gunshot sounded.
The police bust in yelling "FREEZE!" Everyone, except Dr. Gentry raised their hands and stood. "We have a live one over here but barely. I need an ambulance now!"
A police officer called for an ambulance on the dark, dreary night. Dr. Gentry escorted the near death man to the ambulance and rode with him to the Atlanta Medical Center five minutes away.
A police officer escorted everyone downtown for questioning and statements.
Happy New Years ...
Part Four
At the Atlanta Medical Center …
The ambulance pulled in and escorted Richard off to surgery. A young orderly walked up to Alexander Gentry. "What happened to him?"
Dr. Gentry moved quickly with the stretcher as it rolled through the hospital. His clothes were completely soaked in blood and other unmentionables, but he seemed remarkably calm.
"GSW, Male in his early 30's. There'll be more coming in, but expect a good number of them to be DOA. A maniac broke into the sundial."
The doctors nod and were getting everything ready. The orderly just shrugged and watched Alexander walk on by.
As the night passed, Richard was moved into Intensive Care and monitored. He was still unconscious. Dr. Alexander Gentry, never one to smoke, decided to step outside for some cool air. The night seemed to slow down as the flashing red lights from the ambulance the bodies coming into the hospital, all inside body bags and the hospital seemed to take on a slight chill. Several of the nurses and orderlies were outside smoking, having no idea what happened tonight. Sure, they’d read about it or watch it on the morning news. But to actually have gone through it, that’s another story.
The same orderly that bugged Dr. Gentry earlier rushed outside to him "Doctor, I don’t mean to interrupt but they told me to tell you Mr. Williams has regained consciousness."
Dr. Gentry rushed in to room 313 and saw Richard Williams sitting there calmly. Dr. Gentry looked over to Richard who calmly replied, "I’m waiting for the doctor."
Dr. Gentry looked surprised for a moment to see Richards awake, considering the circumstances of the past few hours. He recovered quickly, and stepped forward confidently. "I am the doctor who had you brought here, Mr. Williams."
He took a moment to pull out the chart at the foot of the bed and quickly looked it over as he continued speaking.
"How are you feeling right now? Do you remember what happened?"
"Sorry Doctor, I . . . I think I'm still in shock or something. Is Sarah OK? I remember us being shot and I'm not sure how I could have made it through that. I should thank you very much, and I do, I mean . . . well, thank you . . . This feels like it's happening so fast." Richard's mood alternates between calm lucidity and panicked confusion.
…
At the Atlanta Police Department…
The police escorted everyone into separate rooms and asked for statements.
Layton gave a rambling account of what happened, starting with the Gulf War, the poisons that the government made him ingest, and ending with the United States secret funding of tobacco farms, and how they have introduced chemicals that might just control the brain. Oh yes, and he also mentions the events of tonight.
The cops let Layton go on his merry way, finding him completely innocent.
…
A shaky Tom, after drinking four or five glasses of water, told exactly what happened, at least how he had seen it. He left out the part of the pagan organization, however, feeling that would get him into more trouble than it's worth.
They nod and a flustered woman with dirty blond hair rushes in clutching him to her bosom as if it were the last day on earth. It was then he realized it could have been. The dark cold atmosphere of the police station woke him up a bit and its then all too clear. You could have been killed. Just like Sarah
"Hunny are you ok??" She continued to hug him as moms tend to do. "Lets get you home. I think you better stay home from school tomorrow. Just in case."
…
"My name is Nicolas Brant and I'm a graduate student at Miskatonic University. I'm in Atlantic for break, decided to go to the Sundial because my friend Phil Wynn had given me a ticket. I had a few drinks, ate some food, and then at midnight, I see this guy come in, take out a shotgun, and start shooting. A waiter ran out of the kitchen and tried to tackle him, but missed. I drew my Baretta M92 and fired at him but missed. Then he walked over and shot Sarah and that other guy. I don't remember anything after that, but when I came back I was on my knees and there was a pool of vomit in front of me."
He started shaking. "I'm so sorry. If I had got him nobody would have died. I should've hit him, I should've hit him."
They took down Nicolas' information. "I’m assuming you have a place to stay here. I think it would be best if you stay in town for a while."
…
Dr Terry gives a very detailed account of what happened, drawing on his writing experience, he gave a detailed accounting of what he saw starting with the top of the blonde’s head continuing on until the police broke in.
"I have to compliment the police department here in Atlanta. It was amazing that it only took two minutes form the time the shooting started until the time you were breaking into the room. That was fine police work."
Thinking on this for a minute Terry begins to believe that there may have been a conspiracy here.
"How did they get here so quickly, were they expecting to happen. Was the shooter the police chief's son. Is the mayor in on the killing? Was there another shooter, maybe on the grassy knoll?"
The cops looked at Terry rather disturbed. "We were at the Peach Dropping ceremony nearly a block away. That’s how we got there so fast. Besides, someone called in and said something bad might happen. Do you know anything you aren’t telling us Mr. Shortbread?"
Terry laughed it off. "Oh no, just my over active imagination kicking into over drive. I'm a writer you know. We are always asking the eternal question, why?”
“Interesting that someone knew it was going to happen in advance. Did you get a description of the voice? Any clues?"
“Actually, yes, the voice was a girl. I want to say a teenager. We would have been here sooner but we thought it was a prank like all the other calls."
"I do a lot of investigative work myself you know. I am currently working on my new book, Bigfoot Comes to Buckhead . It will be a very detailed account of a Bigfoot sighting that I took part in several years ago. Quite fascinating really. Did you know that the Native American Indians of Georgia have legends of a large hairy man that walked the swamps around this very city? Just fascinating, really."
They do their best to stifle the chuckle at the mention of Bigfoot. "Sounds like a best seller Mr. Shortbread.”
“That’s Dr Shortbread, not Mr." Terry is a bit miffed at the obvious snub to his position. "Is there anything else that I can do to help? Do you have any leads that need to be run down. I would be happy to lend my professional experience to help resolve the issue."
"Do you know anything about this, Doctor?" The police chief showed him a picture of the gunman on a table, obviously taken in the morgue. The man had an odd tattoo. It appears to be that of a tarot card. A young man on the edge of a cliff with a small dog beside him.
Dr Terry says, "Hold on. Now don't shoot me, I'm going to reach into my pocket." He draws out a small handheld computer which he then connects to his cell phone via a data cable that works with the handheld computer. After a few warbles of the handheld modem, he connects to the Internet. "I love these little babies. They are incredible."
"Ok, here it is. It is the symbol of the Fool. Here let me read it:
Fool is the person undergoing the process of spiritual change. The image on the card shows the fool carrying a satchel, which contains the treasure of true happiness, though apparently the fool isn't aware of this. The treasure of true happiness is always at hand, regardless of our material circumstances--we don't need money, we don't need love, we don't even need bodily health. Happiness is in the mind, and the mind we can control and change (at least to some extent).
Another interpretation of the satchel is that it represents all that can be created by our imagination. Imagination allows us to create whatever it is we want, and thus is our most valuable possession--but the fool seems unaware of this.
The human mind's capability for self-deception is notorious, but we sometimes fail to appreciate the true significance of this capability--in particular, we often fail to appreciate that self-deception isn't necessarily bad. If, by a simple act of imagination, we can change from perceiving ourselves as poor to perceiving ourselves as rich, then why bother trying to become wealthy according to material reality? We scoff at beggars in the street who tell passersby how they are millionaires in disguise--but if they really believe they are rich and this reduces their pain, whereas consciousness of being poor would increase their pain, then what is so foolish about their self-deception? Perhaps the true fools are those who accept reality even when this acceptance leads to pain. This line of reasoning can be applied to religions and other belief systems which are false according to material science, but which do much to reduce the pain of people's lives--what does it matter whether these belief systems are "true" or not, so long as they work?
The fool is about to step off a cliff, whose solidity represents the certainty of the existing set of spiritual values. The abyss below the cliff represents the uncertainty that results when, as part of the process of spiritual change, the existing spiritual values are abandoned and a search is made for new values.
The dog beside the fool may be a reference to the dog and wolf of the Moon card--we are always accompanied by the desires of our soul, which ideally will be tamed, but we must remember that these tamed desires were originally wild, and might revert to wildness at any time.
Finally, the fool is sometimes associated with the Uranus principle -- "an original impulse coming from a strange and unexpected quarter" (from the instructional booklet by James Wasserman for the Crowley Thoth Tarot deck (1978) ).
"Well that just about fits our man now doesn't it."
The police chief looks at Dr. Shortbread. "Hrm. You may prove useful after all. Would you like to help us doctor?"
"Certainly, I will always cooperate with the law. What would you like me to do? Do I get a badge? That would impress the women now wouldn't it. Ok, ok, I suppose that might not be the best use of a badge. But it works...doesn't it? Come on, you can tell me."
