Chapter 4

Aug 16, 2004 15:10

Chapter 4

Tom stared in bewilderment at the clock in the ministry’s lobby. What he had just lived through had been the worst twenty-four hours of his life, or so he thought. After the first train dropped them off in Texas, Tom and Venice had boarded another one to go north. This train was dark, damp, cold, boring, and to top it off, the snack car was non-existent. His feet were wet and he could’ve sworn that something on the floor kept rubbing against him. It was too dark to tell what exactly it was and at first Tom thought it was Venice trying to rub on his leg, so he rubbed back a bit.

This stopped when Tom looked over and discovered Venice was asleep next to him. Tom stopped rubbing at once and looked across the compartment. A man was smiling at him. Tom smiled back, but had quickly woken up Venice to tell her they were moving to a different compartment. The man frowned and looked out the window.

The next compartment was better lit unlike the previous one and Venice mumbled as she lay down back asleep on the seat. Tom sat down and pretty soon he fell asleep too, sprawled out lying on the floor. The next day when sunlight peeked it’s way through the little space, that Tom was amazed Venice called a window they awoke. They discovered they were somewhere in Kansas. They also discovered whom they were traveling with.

Tom was amazed with this discovery also, cursing irony as he sat there. Sitting in front of them in the seats opposite them was a strong, tall man. He had a very square jaw and big blue eyes. He sat straight up and had his black, curly hair cut short. He smiled a perfect smile revealing all of his white teeth and crossed his legs without even crinkling his perfect black suit. He straightened his tie and happened to glance across at Venice.

“Hey! Venice, is that you?” the handsome man said. He also happened to have been an old acquaintance from Venice’s past. “It is you! How have you been?”, he asked with wonder as he stared at her, ignoring Tom completely. It was a hell for Tom. He was trapped in a small compartment while an old boyfriend, who happened to be named Rupert, was up to his old tricks. Yet, Tom could do nothing about it. The man was everything Tom was not.

Tom felt his round jaw, and glanced between them with his hazel eyes. His shaggy brownish hair hadn’t been cut for sometime and he felt hunched over all of a sudden so he tried to sit up straight. He looked at his ragged white shirt and stained, dirty khaki’s. He felt relatively short and skinny in comparison to the 8th world wonder in front of him. Rupert continued to ignore Tom as he also continued catching up with Venice. Finally he noticed Tom and Tom realized that it was better when he had been ignored.

“Who’s this jester you got traveling with you?”, he asked as he kicked Tom’s foot. Tom growled quietly under his breath.

“Oh, I nearly forgot. Rupert, I’d like you to meet Tom. Tom this is Rupert, an old friend of mine.” Venice said quickly.

Tom stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you”, he said as he faked a smile. Rupert glanced at his hand and quickly carried on conversation, leaving Tom looking foolish. This time Tom growled out loud and mumbled to himself as he shifted his weight to look out the window. This guy was a jerk, but he was also, as much as Tom didn’t want to think it, starting to look like a threat.

Tom sat through a couple more minutes of their conversation when he decided to shift his weight again and think of something smart to say. His pistol slipped out of his pocket however and landed on the ground with a heavy thunk, sending a shot through the door into the hallway. There was a shrill scream and Tom quickly remembered loading his gun to fire at the pilot. Tom’s eyes grew wide and he grabbed his pistol sharply. The door opened at that moment and an usher saw the pistol in Tom’s hands.
Moments later, Tom, after giving a quick kiss goodbye to Venice, was mobbed at and tossed off the train. So, there he was, stuck in the middle of nowhere, holding his pistol, watching the train pull away, and thinking about Rupert and Venice sitting in a compartment by themselves. He walked along the railroad for a little while before a small automobile stopped and picked him up. It was black, but had grand headlights, just like all of the other ministry cars. Tom jumped in quickly.

“Figured I’d find you somewhere along here.”, said the man in the chauffeur’s hat in the driver’s seat. “We’d gotten reports that some fool, under your description, had fired a gun in a train. The Captain wants to have a word with you back at Headquarters.” Tom wiped his eyes and slept in the back of the car for a couple minutes before being thrown onto a plane and taken all the way to London, non-stop. The plane was no better than the train on which he had been on earlier.

There was no food being served and Tom couldn’t find a decent book anywhere around him. He stole one from the sleeping person behind him, but it turned out to be some sort of mystery romance novel that could’ve been written by a pubescent, depressed, teenage girl. In fact it probably was, and he dropped it at that. He looked behind him again and stole some crackers from the person’s lap. Finally, some food he could eat.

He began to get terribly bored now that he had put something in his stomach so he started to look around at the passengers in the plane with him. A man in front of him looked rather depressed as he sat looking out of the window, while his wife was busy chatting away with some good-looking man beside her. This instantly brought Tom’s thoughts back to Venice again, and he wondered how the ride with Rupert was going. He growled again slowly to himself and continued to listen to the conversation in front of him.

The good-looking man kept complementing the wife on all of her beauties and continued trying to offer her some of his scotch he had brought with him. “Great,” Tom mumbled to himself, “Get her drunk and then run-off with her…” He had finally convinced her to have a drink when Tom noticed the man looking depressed beside her was her husband. The situation looked vaguely familiar. Tom had an idea.

As the man proceeded in pouring a glass of scotch a random mystery romance novel hit him in the head, causing him to spill the scotch all over his suit. He rubbed his head angrily and looked around quickly to see what had happened. Tom pretended to be asleep and closed his eyes, breathing slowly, but before doing so, had prodded the man behind him who had been asleep. The sleeping man awoke with a start and looked around.

“Where’s my book?” he said loudly. The good-looking man rubbing his head turned sharply and looked at the once asleep man who was bewildered.

“I’ll show you where your book is!”, the good-looking man shouted as he threw it at the once asleep, bewildered man. Tom giggled to himself quietly as he lie there with his eyes shut. “Well, that took care of two problems,” he whispered with a smile, “I returned the book back to it’s owner and I stopped a man from hitting on another’s wife.” He watched as the good-looking man stood up, rubbing his head, and cursing, to make his way to the stewardess. Tom relaxed and kept his eyes closed for a while feeling that he had done his part on the trip. He opened them for a moment to look back in front of him when he noticed a newspaper sitting in the good-looking man’s seat.

Tom picked it up and read the bold letters in huge print on the front page:
Westchester Fire Destroys Nightlife and Most of the Small Town Surrounding, and in smaller print beneath it: Man found in Westchester park, shot, no connections with the fire currently. The identity of the man has been identified as Charles M. Jones from the London area. He had two bullet wounds and was found lying by a bench this morning in the early hours.

“Charles!”, Tom yelled gruffly as he threw down the paper, “Wonderful…no wonder the ministry is so interested in seeing me.” He tossed the paper behind him and it hit the bewildered man in the face causing the bewildered man to further his bewilderment.

“Who’s paper is this!?”, shouted the bewildered, and now just utterly pissed off man.

“That’s my paper, you thief!”, the good-looking, angrily rubbing his head, scotch smelling man yelled back at him.

“Thief!?” the bewildered, pissed off man yelled back. And with that a fist fight burst out right over top of Tom.

Two punches, and a foot in the mouth later, Tom was escorted off the plane by a ministry officer in London and delivered to ministry headquarters. Once he had gotten there he had been staring at the clock, barefooted and cold. He stood nervously and tried to collect his thoughts, which seemed to be playing hide and go seek at the moment.

“Tom, the boss will see you now.”, Lydia the secretary said behind her desk.

“Fabulous.”, Tom said and walked into door leading up the stairwell towards the Captain’s office.
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