LJ Idol Season 6 Week 11 - They've Given You a Number
o/` "There's a man who leads a life of danger
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger
With every move he makes another chance he takes
Odds are he won't live to see tomorrow" o/`
-- "Secret Agent Man" performed by Johnny Rivers
The bayou folk get around in flat bottomed boats called pirogues. Most cities in Cajun Country, I had found, had at least some sort of rudimentary dock so that these folk could come and go about their business. Coyote Woman, because of her arthritis, had given up the more traditional method of using a push pole in favor of a small outboard motor. We did not need to worry about snagging on something, high as the bayou had been running, but I still didn't care for that method of travel...especially not with a sick, delirious man lying on a pallet in the bottom of said boat.
I found out the hard way that Dee seemed to have some sort of odd fear of travel by water. Heck, I'm not particularly fond of bodies of water where I cannot see bottom but I curbed my own fears and focused on keeping him in the damned thing. Dee might have had many skills, but I didn't think walking on water would be one of them and I was loathe to test that when I could clearly see the knobby eyes of a gator not five feet off the prow.
When he was still conscious, he'd given me a phone number to call. Someone from the central field office met us at the dock with a team of doctors which, I supposed, were approved by whatever law enforcement agency for which Dee worked. As alphabet agencies go, this one seemed more humane than I'd expected. They'd taken Dee immediately to surgery and had allowed Coyote Woman, as the treateur, to assist. Dorie and I, accompanied by an exotic looking woman with just a trace of Island accent, had been escorted to a small family waiting room. I later learned that she'd been assigned to us as our liaison, that her name was Alia, and that she was Dee's partner, the agent assigned to work cases with him.
Now Dee seemed to be making a good recovery; I could hear him directing a string of invective at one of the nurses which was occasionally interrupted by the good natured raillery of his fellow agents. I'd gotten used to the twenty-four hour guards on his door with another pair discreetly stationed by the elevators. I was certain there were several more scattered throughout the facility; this had been, after all, an attempted murder.
However friendly she might be, I knew Alia wouldn't allow me outside on my own. As far as the agency was concerned, we were all either at risk or means through which the original assailant might still get to Dee. Right now, however, I needed just a few minutes' breathing space away from the worry and the tension...and the human shadows.
Sneaking around in a wheelchair isn't the easiest thing in the world to do, but it was made easier by the hospital setting. I waited until shift change, when one set of guards would be leaving and the other not yet arrived, and then did the equivalent of running --- not walking! --- to the elevator. I had only a small margin in which to accomplish this and I'm pleased to say that the elevator began its descent to the lobby right about the time a fresh set of guards would have reported for duty. The rest was literally downhill --- a few good hard pushes to the spokes and I'd rolled myself right out of the facility to the street.
High above, Houma's Twinspan --- a beautiful set of bridges which cross the main waterway --- hummed with midday traffic but the road in front of the medical center seemed largely deserted. Just across that street lay my goal, a gazebo surrounded by crepe myrtles and other native fauna. Someone had had the forethought to design a green beltway in the shadow of the bridges, breaking up what could have been just another ugly underpass into lovely little parks along the canal. I couldn't have been gone more than twenty minutes, simply sitting there with my face tilted to receive the wan kiss of the November sun while I drank in the sweet breeze from the bayou, when a hand thrust itself into my line of vision and proffered a glass of iced chai.
"Thought you might like this. Dee and Dorie say it's your favorite." Alia spoke quietly, as though afraid she might startle a shy animal. She curled her slender legs up under her on the bench beside which I'd stopped my wheelchair. The bayou breeze curled her dark hair around her face, making her seem more approachable. I noted that the black pants were heavily creased, the blouse rumpled; it had been a while since she'd been anywhere but here with us. She wore high heels, a feminine touch which surprised me, but these too were practical, thick and only half an inch long instead of the stiletto types most other women seemed to prefer.
I took a sip; it would have been rude, when she'd gone to all this trouble to pacify me, to refuse the gift. I grinned, unrepentant, and gave her a mock salute. "Found out! They sent you to retrieve me, huh?"
Alia tucked the errant strand of hair back behind her ears and fiddled with her gold hoop earrings. "Yes. No. Not exactly. Look, I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but I like you. The agency is going to want to interview you about what happened --- Dorie and Coyote Woman have already been debriefed," she offered quickly, holding up a hand to silence my outraged squalling. "Dee's trying to stall until he can accompany you but it would really be better for all concerned if the interview were conducted sooner rather than later. You'd be perfectly safe and I could go with you."
I considered what Alia had told me while I finished my drink. I knew all about Dee's stalling tactics; they generally involved a steadily increasing wave of obscenities accompanied by thrown objects. No, he doesn't need to be wasting energy he doesn't have on my behalf. "All right," I agreed, tossing the empty container into the trash. "Let's do it."
"Now?" Alia blinked, taken aback by my ready agreement. I guess she doesn't know that I'd do just about anything for the poor silly bastard.
"Might as well." I grinned. "I've already escaped your custody once. Next time you might not be able to catch me."
To everyone he meets he stays a stranger
With every move he makes another chance he takes
Odds are he won't live to see tomorrow" o/`
-- "Secret Agent Man" performed by Johnny Rivers
The bayou folk get around in flat bottomed boats called pirogues. Most cities in Cajun Country, I had found, had at least some sort of rudimentary dock so that these folk could come and go about their business. Coyote Woman, because of her arthritis, had given up the more traditional method of using a push pole in favor of a small outboard motor. We did not need to worry about snagging on something, high as the bayou had been running, but I still didn't care for that method of travel...especially not with a sick, delirious man lying on a pallet in the bottom of said boat.
I found out the hard way that Dee seemed to have some sort of odd fear of travel by water. Heck, I'm not particularly fond of bodies of water where I cannot see bottom but I curbed my own fears and focused on keeping him in the damned thing. Dee might have had many skills, but I didn't think walking on water would be one of them and I was loathe to test that when I could clearly see the knobby eyes of a gator not five feet off the prow.
When he was still conscious, he'd given me a phone number to call. Someone from the central field office met us at the dock with a team of doctors which, I supposed, were approved by whatever law enforcement agency for which Dee worked. As alphabet agencies go, this one seemed more humane than I'd expected. They'd taken Dee immediately to surgery and had allowed Coyote Woman, as the treateur, to assist. Dorie and I, accompanied by an exotic looking woman with just a trace of Island accent, had been escorted to a small family waiting room. I later learned that she'd been assigned to us as our liaison, that her name was Alia, and that she was Dee's partner, the agent assigned to work cases with him.
Now Dee seemed to be making a good recovery; I could hear him directing a string of invective at one of the nurses which was occasionally interrupted by the good natured raillery of his fellow agents. I'd gotten used to the twenty-four hour guards on his door with another pair discreetly stationed by the elevators. I was certain there were several more scattered throughout the facility; this had been, after all, an attempted murder.
However friendly she might be, I knew Alia wouldn't allow me outside on my own. As far as the agency was concerned, we were all either at risk or means through which the original assailant might still get to Dee. Right now, however, I needed just a few minutes' breathing space away from the worry and the tension...and the human shadows.
Sneaking around in a wheelchair isn't the easiest thing in the world to do, but it was made easier by the hospital setting. I waited until shift change, when one set of guards would be leaving and the other not yet arrived, and then did the equivalent of running --- not walking! --- to the elevator. I had only a small margin in which to accomplish this and I'm pleased to say that the elevator began its descent to the lobby right about the time a fresh set of guards would have reported for duty. The rest was literally downhill --- a few good hard pushes to the spokes and I'd rolled myself right out of the facility to the street.
High above, Houma's Twinspan --- a beautiful set of bridges which cross the main waterway --- hummed with midday traffic but the road in front of the medical center seemed largely deserted. Just across that street lay my goal, a gazebo surrounded by crepe myrtles and other native fauna. Someone had had the forethought to design a green beltway in the shadow of the bridges, breaking up what could have been just another ugly underpass into lovely little parks along the canal. I couldn't have been gone more than twenty minutes, simply sitting there with my face tilted to receive the wan kiss of the November sun while I drank in the sweet breeze from the bayou, when a hand thrust itself into my line of vision and proffered a glass of iced chai.
"Thought you might like this. Dee and Dorie say it's your favorite." Alia spoke quietly, as though afraid she might startle a shy animal. She curled her slender legs up under her on the bench beside which I'd stopped my wheelchair. The bayou breeze curled her dark hair around her face, making her seem more approachable. I noted that the black pants were heavily creased, the blouse rumpled; it had been a while since she'd been anywhere but here with us. She wore high heels, a feminine touch which surprised me, but these too were practical, thick and only half an inch long instead of the stiletto types most other women seemed to prefer.
I took a sip; it would have been rude, when she'd gone to all this trouble to pacify me, to refuse the gift. I grinned, unrepentant, and gave her a mock salute. "Found out! They sent you to retrieve me, huh?"
Alia tucked the errant strand of hair back behind her ears and fiddled with her gold hoop earrings. "Yes. No. Not exactly. Look, I shouldn't be telling you any of this, but I like you. The agency is going to want to interview you about what happened --- Dorie and Coyote Woman have already been debriefed," she offered quickly, holding up a hand to silence my outraged squalling. "Dee's trying to stall until he can accompany you but it would really be better for all concerned if the interview were conducted sooner rather than later. You'd be perfectly safe and I could go with you."
I considered what Alia had told me while I finished my drink. I knew all about Dee's stalling tactics; they generally involved a steadily increasing wave of obscenities accompanied by thrown objects. No, he doesn't need to be wasting energy he doesn't have on my behalf. "All right," I agreed, tossing the empty container into the trash. "Let's do it."
"Now?" Alia blinked, taken aback by my ready agreement. I guess she doesn't know that I'd do just about anything for the poor silly bastard.
"Might as well." I grinned. "I've already escaped your custody once. Next time you might not be able to catch me."