63 (7)

Bob’s back hit the wall of the boxcar, and he slowly slid down to a sitting position.  The previous few minutes were a blur of activity.  He remembered hearing the latch rattle, only to find the door was still locked.  He heard a second, smaller rattle, and he had tugged on the door so hard it opened all the way.  He then saw Phil, limp and lifeless and hanging from the roof.  In his mind, it seemed to go a lot faster.  At the time, it had seemed like Phil’s body started to fall in slow motion.  Bob had reached out and grabbed the edges of Phil’s jacket, pulling with all his might.  The next thing Bob knew, he was on his back and an unconscious Phil was lying beside him.  He had stumbled up and closed the train door partway, as the decrease in speed and the increase in the train sounding its horn gave him the impression they were entering a town.  Phil was starting to roll around.  Bob watched as he lifted his left arm to his neck.  Bob sprang up and looked down at Phil’s closed eyes and facial expression that mimicked that of a choking man.  Bob had to act fast, so he grabbed Phil’s shoulders and started shaking him.  “C’mon, wake up.”

Phil’s eyes shot open almost instantly, and his teeth clenched as he reached over and grabbed Bob’s left arm.  “Shoulder…hurts…dumb-ass…” he sputtered out, keeping his teeth together the whole time.  Bob let go of both shoulders and stood up. 

“Are you alright?”

Phil slowly sat up.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I must have blacked out, and you must have saved my bacon.  The last thing I remember I was hanging from the roof of the car.”

Bob walked over to the door and opened it all the way, letting in a blast of fresh, cool air.  “Yeah, I was at the door when I heard the latch.”  Bob paused a moment and spun around quickly.  “What in the hell were you thinking?  You could have died pulling that stunt off.  I could have handed you crap from the crates…”

“Look, the latch had to be lifted to open the door.  No amount of throwing crap at it would have worked.”

“Next time don’t be such a hero!”

“What, you wanted to do it?”

Bob didn’t reply.  He just looked out the car at the passing scenes of farms, fields and power lines flying by.  He sat at the door of the car, almost dangling his legs out of the opening.  Phil rolled to his left side and started getting up.  His right arm had a dull ache, and his fingers were sore and cut up.  Phil also noticed a large black stain on his pant leg from the grime on the roof of the car.  As he took a step towards the door, he saw Bob’s lucky sunglasses lying on the floor.  He picked them up and sat by Bob. 

“Phil, I’m sorry I yelled” Bob said softly, just over the ambient noise of their boxcar class trip.  “I just feel guilty for getting us into this mess, and the thought of you dying because of some crap at Jer’s I wanted…”  Bob’s voice trailed off and he looked away from Phil totally. 

“Hey” Phil said, at almost a shout.  “We’re alive, and so far I’d say your lucky sunglasses are proving to be indeed lucky.  Here, put ‘em on.  It’s bright out.”

Bob turned around, and looked at the sunglasses.  Part of him wanted to throw them out of the train, but instead he took them and put them on.  “So…I wonder where we’re going, and when we should disembark.”

62 (6)

Phil’s eyes opened slowly.  He looked around the boxcar, but he didn’t see anyone.  “Hello?”  No one responded to his call.  As he stood up, he felt such pain in his right arm he almost toppled before he was fully standing.  He pushed himself up on a crate and noticed the train was no longer moving.  He walked to the door, but stopped before he could get out.  He saw at least twenty police cars, and all of them were flashing their light bars into the night sky.  Without thinking, his back hit the inside of the boxcar door.  Slowly, he inched along the wall of the boxcar, tugging the door closed in what seemed a fruitless attempt to keep the police from noticing what boxcar he was in.  Once the door closed, he heard the latch fall and lock him in.  One single beam of moonlight shot through the roof hatch, and hit him where he stood.  He was alone, but not for long.  He heard footsteps from one of the corners.  “Bob?”  He took a step to the near right corner, but Mokoto walked out to meet him.  She was dressed in a new coat that was even shorter than her previous one, and her old boots had been replaced by stiletto heeled boots that laced up to her knees.  She pointed her gun at his head, while her other arm went to her hip.  Her pigtails blew in a breeze that shouldn’t have been in the boxcar. 

“Remember me?”

Phil backed slowly away, but he heard someone coming from the left near corner.  He turned, only to see Mokoto again.  Her hair was in a pony tail, and she was wearing a schoolgirl outfit and holding a bigger gun, which was again pointed at him. 

“What’s the matter Phil?  I thought you were into this look?”

Phil stumbled backwards and fell.  He looked to the far right corner, only to see Mokoto again.  She was wearing a gray pantsuit, and she was holding an AK-47.  Her hair was up in a bun, and her thick black glasses were balanced on her nose. 

“Maybe this is better?’

Phil fell to the floor as his right arm gave out he slithered, almost snake-like, to the far left corner.  Suddenly, Mokoto appeared again, this time in a wedding dress.  She had a bouquet in one hand and the silenced gun he remembered from Jer’s place in the other. 

“Don’t you want your best men with you?”

  The wedding dress Mokoto asked the question, then giggled with evil glee.  Phil heard three bodies hit the floor behind him.  Phil turned his head to see the other three Mokotos were standing over the dead bodies of Bob, Jer, and Jeff Stevens.  Phil scurried away towards the wedding dress Mokoto, who knelt down and put her arms around his neck. 

“It’s okay.  You can have us all.  Just give us what we want.”

“…what we want.”

“…we want.”

“want.”

***

Roloff Leigh’s rusty pickup rolled to a stop as the front of the rain rumbled through Ashton.  He glanced over at his stack of mail.  He started to pull his newest fishing magazine out, when out of the corner of his eye he saw something odd.  It looked like a boxcar with an open door.  Roloff glanced forward as the passing boxcar’s door closed about halfway and stopped.  He took off his cap and scratched his head, pondering aloud “I wonder who the hell you call to report that?”  In a few seconds, the train was gone, and his truck sat alone at the town’s railroad crossing.  Ah well, not my business Roloff thought to himself as his truck slowly rolled over the train tracks.

61 (5)

Thank goodness he stopped banging on the door.

Phil’s mind was unusually clear for the situation he was in.  His hands and fingers were clenched as hard as they could be to the edge of the boxcar’s roof.  The roar of the wind past his ears was deafening.  His right arm was numb and throbbing all at the same time.  Phil looked into the direction of the train, and saw a town coming up fast.  Phil looked down.  The rocks around the track were going by like a rosy, jagged blur.  He looked up a bit and saw the latch.  It was just out of the reach of his outstretched leg.  Phil took a deep breath and slid his right arm to the right.  It was over as far as he could stretch it.  The shoulder and elbow were numb, and he had a feeling of dread as he readied himself for the next step.  He pulled himself up slightly and shifted his weight to the right before his body came down.  Pain shot through his right arm into his head, his chest and his lower body.  The pain was making him nausous, and he was starting to see spots and stars in his perephial vision.  He kicked at the latch, missing it.  He took another breath and kicked at the latch again.  His foot hit the latch, but it didn’t move.  Phil shook his head rapidly and stared at the latch.

You can do this.

Phil swung his foot to the latch.  His foot was bent downward, and as the top of his foot hit the latch he curled his lower foot and toes upward.  The latch lifted and tumbled back down, leaving the door locked.  Dammit, if only I could talk to Bob in the damn car. Phil repeated the process, except he lifted the latch as high as he could.  Phil’s arms were burning and he was losing his grip.  His ears heard the faint sound of metal tinkling.  Phil started to black out, and he felt the train car melting away and his body being pulled into the darkness.

***

Geoff kept his arms crossed.  Jeremiah did the same.  Jebediah had his hand inside his jacket.  Frank’s eyes darted all around.  “Look, I just want to get on my flight.  What does it matter what I say?”

“It matters.”  Geoff said dryly.

“I think you’ll be happier with us than anyone you might find in Las Vegas.  I can make a call and make sure  your stay goes very smoothly.  I’d hate for y-”

“I faked it, alright?”  Frank was now standing, waving his arms around.  “I called the police department and used the name of an officer who was with the Highway Patrol who was on vacation as of that morning.  There was never a body.  The money went into my account the night before.  I called it in and filled out all the paperwork.  If you people weren’t looking for him no one would have noticed, alright?  If you’re the cops I confess!”  Geoff stood up and pushed him back to his seat as Frank mumbled “I confess” over and over.  Geoff looked with sad eyes at Frank, but when his gaze turned to Jeremiah and Jebediah it was pure anger.

“Well, that changes things.  The question is, where is Gerrard?”

60 (4)

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh”

Bob turned his head to the door. Jesus, was that Phil? Am I hearing things? He ran to the door of the boxcar, but it wouldn’t budge. He still wasn’t sure he heard a scream. For the past few seconds, Bob was stacking crates to try and talk Phil out of whatever idea he had. Bob pounded on the door three times.

Nothing.

Bob started breathing heavy. No no NO! This can’t be happening. I’ve just sent my best friend to his death! Bob raised his arm and pounded on the door three more times.

Nothing.

Bob grabbed onto whatever part of the door was sticking out. He pulled with all his might. The door wasn’t responding. Furious, he started kicking the door with his leg, even though that wouldn’t help at all. Bob started rocking the door back and forth, at least in theory. He pulled the door to the left and right, but it wouldn’t budge one inch. He felt himself crying once again. Pull it together Bob! Exasperated, he put his head on his left arm, while his right arm pounded three times with all it’s might.

Nothing.

Bob backed up and rammed the middle of the door with his shoulder. The steel bent ever so slightly. Bob’s back was against the door, and he slowly slid down to a sitting position. “I’m sorry Phil, I’m so sorry.” Bob was talking to the empty spaces and the useless crates, but he kept talking. “My God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” He was starting to cry again, and his volume was escalating. “PHIL! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to die. You were the best friend I could have ever had. There’s so much I regret…so much I didn’t tell you that I should have. I never should have hidden…” Bob’s voice was lowering as he started sobbing. He reached into his pocket for a tissue or a handkerchief, but only found his lucky sunglasses. These damn things weren’t worth Phil’s life. How could I have known? How could I… Bob’s sadness was focusing into rage. He threw his arm back, sunglasses in hand. Their destination was one of the steel walls, and it was a one way trip. Tears were streaming down Bob’s face as he was about to throw them, when…

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

…he froze.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Bob quickly stood up and pounded the door three times. Three bangs came back, weaker than before, but they still came back.

***

The sound of camera flashes and fingerprint brushes filled an otherwise quiet house. Will Hetfield and Clayton Iron-Horse had looked through most of the house, and were now in the study of Frank Richmond. Will held up a manila folder.

“I didn’t know coroners took work home.”

Clayton looked over. “It takes a certain kind of person to do that kind of work. Have they booted up the computer yet?

“Yeah. The hard drive needs a password, so we’ve got somebody coming in to take care of it.”

“I’m a bit surprised it’s still here. I thought all our other mysterious missing persons cases had their computer drives stolen.”

“Well, Anderton and Fulton’s computers were intact but on. Plus, this is our first Mac in the case. All the other computers were PCs.”

Clayton knelt by the garbage can. He picked up an empty ink cartridge. “It looks like somebody ran out of ink recently.” His eyes then caught a faded printout that was half crumpled up. What little Clayton could see told him everything he needed to know.

“Will…It’s a boarding pass.”

59 (3)

The rolling hills, occasional farm, and the stretches of waving grass were a sight to behold, especially from the top of a rail car. Phil took a deep breath and drank in the moment. He was on the run from the law, he was being pursued by a strange woman, and he wasn’t sure he’d have a job when he got back. Right now there was only the warm sun, the smell of fresh air, and a feeling almost like he was flying.

*BANG* *BANG* *BANG*

Phil suddenly snapped back to his task. Bob was banging on the door, and Phil reached down and banged back three times. The latch to the door was in sight, and in looked about four or so feet away. Phil lifted his sore right arm. It was mostly numb, but it still hurt like hell when he rose it above his head. He shimmied towards the edge, but it was soon apparent his arm wouldn’t reach. He then considered waving his jacket or holding his shoe by the laces and waving it wildly at the latch. Slowly, he pulled himself back to the middle of the roof, and stuck his head through the roof hatch.

“HEY! Phil yelled. He couldn’t hear footsteps, but he heard the response in a few seconds.

“Yeah?”

“We’ve got problems. I can’t reach the latch.”

“Well, then come back in. We don’t want people calling the cops and telling them some yahoo is on a train car.”

“So what? We’ll be turned in as soon as we get to wherever we’re going.”

“What else can we do?’

Phil opened his mouth, but no words came out. The police would catch them sooner or later. There was no guarantee they’d even be arrested. Still, Phil felt he had to do something. “Just wait by the door, I have an idea.”

“Phil, what are you doing?”

“JUST GO TO THE DOOR!” Phil shouted. He turned around and crawled towards the edge of the train. Phil took a deep breath and turned himself around. Gently and deliberately, he started crawling off the edge. One leg was dangling off the roof of the car, when his other knee suddenly slid off before he was ready. Phil screamed as his rapid slide began.

***

Old man B’s arms were angrily crossed. He sat in the gray room, alone and indignant. He started muttering a sequence of numbers and letters. He was trying to remember his serial number from the army, but he was pretty sure his driver’s license number and social security number were mixing in. The door opened, and a uniformed officer B hadn’t seen before looked in. Old man B started at him as he brought in another chair and sat it by B. The officer said nothing, and soon he was gone again. Old man B folded his arms and rested his head upon them. He tried to separate all the numbers he had memorized in his long life. The door opened again, and then closed. B didn’t look up. He had no interest in talking anymore, but the Sioux Falls police were being awfully persistent. The next thing he heard was the last thing he expected.

“B, is that you?”

58 (2)

Detective Will Hetfield was frustrated. His brain just wasn’t built for text messaging. He wanted to make sure Tina was getting enough sleep, but nothing looked right. The sound of someone walking on the sidewalk didn’t distract him, nor did the sound of someone eating a pop tart.

“Fighting a losing battle with your cell phone?”

Will looked to his right. Agent Iron-Horse was munching on one of the pop tarts he’d given him before they both left for the crime scene. “I thought you only ate organic?”

“I haven’t had a pop tart since grade school. Thanks for reminding me why.”

“Let me guess, you want kashi next time?”

“Who are you texting?” Clayton asked, as he took another bite.

“I thought I’d send Tina a text, to make sure she got home okay. She probably had a rough night. I don’t want to call her and wake her, in case she’s asleep.”

“Are you talking about officer Vig?”

Will started pressing the back button again. “Yeah, officer Vig. What did I say?”

“Tina.”

“Er, yeah. Officer Tina Vig.” Will started typing a simple ‘are you okay’ message.

“You can drop the act Will. The F.B.I. doesn’t care if you fraternize within the force.” Will erased the message again. Clayton stared at his pop tart with some confusion. “How did marshmallows and chocolate ever qualify as a breakfast item?” Will began typing again, this time saying ‘hope you are getting rest, see you later’. Clayton kept talking. “It wouldn’t kill you to try some whole grain cereals. Maybe even something like Wheaties or Shredded Wheat.” Will started erasing the message again. He started retyping it, this time trying ‘call me later hope you are well today’. Clayton stared at will for a few seconds, then said “By the way, we found this Jer fellow. it turns out he rode a dinosaur to Canada to attack a clan of vampires.” Will erased his text once again, and had the words ‘hey there’ done when Clayton snatched the phone from his grasp.

“Hey!” Will exclaimed.

“You’re got it bad. Have you tried telling her how you feel?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your non-reaction to my dinosaur versus vampire comment tells me you’d rather focus on Tina than the case at hand.” Clayton held the phone by his head as he finished his pop tart.

Will looked confused for a moment. “Dinosaur vampires? Huh?”

Clayton shook his head and tossed the phone back to him. “I’ll tell you all about it once I check this crime scene.” Clayton started walking towards the house. Will closed his phone and walked toward the house as well.

***

Geoff Pryblinski stared at Jeremiah, who stared right back at him. Jebediah kept his gaze on Frank Richmond, who looked around nervously for someone in airport security.

“Let’s try this again.” Jeremiah said.

“Let’s not.” Geoff shot back.

“Sooner or later, Mr. Richmond will have to answer our questions.”

“Mr. Richmond” Geoff said as he turned to Frank, “You don’t have to answer anything these two have to ask.”

“Maybe we won’t ask, but Mr. Richmond will be asked. Do you really think there won’t be somebody waiting in Vegas for him?”

Frank suddenly looked very nervous. Jebediah had his eyes locked on him, and his stare was burning holes in Frank’s last bits of confidence. Frank’s nerves were getting to him. He felt all he knew bubbling inside his gut, trying to get out. His reserve was like a dam, holding back his panic and knowledge.

Jebediah’s face twitched.

Frank’s dam was breaking.

57 (1)

“How much longer mommy?” Katie asked. She was fidgeting in her seat. Her mom lowered her cell phone for a moment.

“Katie, we’ll be there soon. We just have to wait for the train to go by.” Katie crossed her arms as the blinking arms flashed their hypnotic warning lights. Soon, a mighty orange locomotive rumbled by, pulling a long succession of cars. Katie looked at her mom, who was talking on the phone and going over some paperwork while the train rumbled by. Katie looked behind them. There wasn’t another vehicle in sight for miles, and her brief glimpses between cars didn’t reveal anyone across the tracks. Her mom’s words suddenly melted away. As Katie glanced to the left, she saw what looked like part of the train fly off. As her eyes followed the boxcar, she saw a man pull himself out of an opening. His face was red, and his eyes and teeth were closed tightly. The man pulled himself out of the opening, then collapsed on the roof the car. As the car rolled out of sight, he grabbed his right arm and sat up. Katie turned to her mom, but she had been on the phone and had missed the whole thing. Her mom stopped for a minute and looked at her. “Katie, is everything alright?” Katie nodded. She didn’t think her mom would believe her. In fact, she wasn’t sure she believed what she’d seen either.

***

Phil sat up for a moment on the rail car. He tried to recall a moment in his life that his arm had hurt that much, but he was at a loss. He rubbed his right shoulder for a few seconds, then tried to lift his arm. It lifted, but the pain was so intense he started seeing spots. He lowered it again and started looking around. Farm fields and the occasional grove of trees was all he could see in every direction. The fresh air and the speed of the train had his teeth chattering for a few seconds, so with his left hand he zipped up his jacket.

“Phil? Phil are you there?” Bob’s voice was barely audible over the wind noise and the sounds of the train. Phil bent forward and began yelling back.

“I’m fine. I’ll see what I can do about the door.”

“Be careful.”

Phil began standing up, only to reconsider once he was on one knee. The train was moving at a decent clip, and the cars were moving just enough to make him feel uncomfortable. After turning himself around, he began crawling towards the middle of the car, then to the edge. He poked his head over the edge, and saw the latch on the door. It just needed a quick lift to unlatch, and then they could open the door from the inside. Phil’s optimism started to wane when he noticed the rest of the side. While his childhood memory about a roof access hatch was right, his other memory about boxcars having ladders on the side was, in this case, false. Phil sighed and thought aloud, “now what?”

End Part 2

Part two has now come to a close, and most of the characters have been introduced.  Well, I think they have been.  Officer Laura Black was a rather new addition to the mythos, so new characters may still be popping up.  The summary page for part two is also up, and part three gets the story’s focus back to Bob and Phil for the most part.  Robert (Bob) Fulton has found his way into the Cliff(hanger) notes section as well.

Part three begins tomorrow, and the overall post number with the part number in parentheses will continue.

56 (28)

Phil reached the top of the pyramid. He lifted his arms up and placed his hands on the trap door. His right arm shot pain directly into his brain. His teeth clenched and his eyes closed.

“Hey Phil, are you okay?” Bob’s voice dug into his ears, driving him onward.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do that?”

Phil’s anger was building. He’s always doing stuff like this. He loves to make me out to be the chump. The wimp. The loser. I’m sick of it. I have to do this. I need to do this. I will do this. Phil pushed upwards with all his might. The rusty trap door didnt’ budge at first, but after about ten seconds, it began to creak.

“Phli? Is it moving?”

Shut up shut up shut up. Dammit Bob, I’m going to be the tough guy for once.

CREEEAAAK

“Phil, maybe if I came up and gave you a hand?”

I have to do this. I will do this. I can do this dammit!

CREEEAAK

*SNAP*

The door flew open. Phil was elated. He had done it, but at the cost of his balance. His elation began evaporating quickly as he felt himself falling forward. Phil arched his back and twisted his body, in an attempt to compensate, as he reached for the hole in the ceiling. His fingers found the edge and he tried to pull himself up. The crate he was standing on began to tip as well. His shoulder was throbbing in its socket, and his right elbow felt like it was made of wet spaghetti. He felt the box tipping further, and he pulled with all his might towards the light.

***

Officer Laura Black walked into Captain Hale’s office. He was asleep at his desk, and he was alone.  She walked around to the back of the desk, and spotted a folder marked “Gerrard”.  She waited for a moment, listening to the loud snoring.  Slowly and carefully, she tried to pry the folder out from under his right arm.  Laura’s slow, deliberate pace was starting to pay off.  The folder was halfway out from under Hale’s arm.
She began biting her lower lip as the folder slid just a bit farther.  Her progress was about to be rewarded, until the door rattled from a fierce pounding.  Laura’s eyes darted to the door, as the knob was slowly opening.  Her arm shot from the folder to Hale’s shoulder.  Hale’s head slowly lifted.  His eyes cracked open only to see Agent Garrett and Agent Lewis strutting into his office once again.  They had both stopped in mid strut, which he found perplexing.

“Captain, who’s this?” Garrett asked.  His sunglasses were still on, so Hale couldn’t tell where he was looking.

“Beg pardon?” Hale asked with a yawn.

“Sorry sir, I saw you asleep at your desk and I was trying to wake you up.”  Laura chimed in.  Hale craned his neck to his right, then his left.

“How long have you been here?”

“A few minutes.  You’re a tough one to wake up sir.”

“Ugh.  Coffee first, then you two.  Laura, is there any word about a search of Franklin Richmond’s house.”

“I can check for you.”

“Do that.”  Hale got up slowly, straightened his tie and stumbled into the morning light towards the coffee maker.  Laura followed closely behind, quickly walking past Garrett and Lewis, who made themselves at home with their laptops and lattes.  Laura whispered to the Captain once they were safely away.

“Who are they?”

“Government types.  Don’t ask.  They’re the bee in my bonnet this weekend.”

“Right.  I’ll check into the Richmond matter.”

“Mmmm” Hale said.  His focus was now lost as he started filling his mug.

Laura turned to the left and started walking down the stairs.  She stopped between floors and pulled out a cell phone.  She scrolled through her contacts until she found the one marked “WEATHERMAN”.

55 (27)

Clayton perked up a bit.  “Ransacked?”

“Yes indeed.”  Will shoved half a pop tart into his mouth and kept talking.  “And gueff wha wuz missngph?”

“All CDs and computer drives.”  Clayton responding to what he was guessing Will was asking.

“Egphsctly.”  Will guzzled a full glass of orange juice as he grabbed his keys from the dining room table.  “Are you coming?”

“Sure sure.  By the way, do you have a lint brush?”

“What.  Are you saying I don’t clean very often?”

“Nah, I’d never suggest you cleaned, period.”

“The thanks I get, sharing my home and last two pop tarts.”  Will looked around.  “Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right.  The lint brush is by the door.”

***

“I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about Mister Pyb, Pyz, Pyr…”

“Pryblinski.  Geoff Pryblinski.  I know you handled the death certificate for Gerrard Dinkley, but you and I both know he isn’t dead.”

“Listen, I never met anyone.  I was contacted a week ago and told I could make back everything I lost in the stock market if I fudged one death certificate.”

“So Gerrard hired you?”

“I don’t know who hired me.  The certificate came in the mail.  It was perfect.  Whoever did it knew their forgeries.  All I needed to do was sign it and fill out some paperwork that I claimed the body and had it cremated.”

“So you never saw a body come in.”

“Not one that matched the certificate.  Next thing I know, I’ve got my money back and then some, and I decide to finally make my retirement official.  What I don’t know, is how you know so much about this.”

“I’m just a concerned apartment manager, and right now I’m concerned about you.”

“Me?  What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing.  Frank, I’m concerned about the other people that are going to come looking for you.”

“Like who?’

“Like us.”  Frank and Geoff looked up.  Jeremiah and Jebediah stood across from them, their glares burning holes through Frank.  The two sat across from them, and Jeremiah spoke again.  “Geoff, you being here is a bit…unexpected.  Maybe you’d care to tell us what Frank has told you so far.”

***

Phil’s right shoulder was throbbing.  Bob was stacking another box onto their makeshift pyramid while Phil tried to rub some of the soreness out.  “Well?” he asked as Bob sat down.

“I think it might be enough.  How’s your shoulder?”

“I’m not going to lie.  It’s been better.”

“Dude, you have full health coverage.  I don’t know why you don’t get your rotator cuff and ligament fixed.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Reasons?  What, are you worried you’ll start chasing your baseball dream again.”

Phil glared at Bob as he stood up.  “My reasons are mine and mine alone.  Quick trying to play Dr. fucking Phil with me Bob.”

“All I’m saying” Bob said as he stood up and moved back, “is that you might be in less pain if you went in and had your arm fixed.”

“My arm is fine.  In fact, I’ll show you.”  Phil took his jacket off and tossed it onto a nearby crate.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting a breath of fresh air” Phil said as he started working his way up the makeshift pyramid.