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   Chapter 10 - The truth about Donald

Green Haven By Paul Kater Characters: 11271

Updated: 2018-02-08 19:03


The rest of the journey goes without incidents, be it slow. The weird thing is that once we're in Sin Angeles the storm seems to calm down and by the time the mono stops at our station (the only one still operational in Sin Angeles), there's no sign of the storm any more. Everyone disembarks quickly as there are people waiting to board. The stream of people that leaves the mono moves down the stairs and that's it. I am nearly home. It's darker than usual. The clouds that carry the storm might be on their way here. I move the stinger from my bag to my pocket and keep my hand on it. By all the saints, don't let me need it tonight. That storm really pushed me a lot and that on top of losing a patient today, even when it was not my fault. It stinks that I always think back to the bad bits of the day when I have to walk home again but truth is that the environment isn't exactly uplifting. Stomping through the streets gets me home fast and no one bothers me. Good. There were lots of folks outside, mostly trudgers like Marco, folks who buy and sell and steal and arrange things. And really, you can take arrange in the broadest meaning of the word. If you want someone to disappear without a trace? That can be arranged just fine here. Want to buy a VTOL car? Sure, even I know three places where to get one. It'll cost you but it can be done. To my relief most lights in the hall work again. We seem to have an invisible caretaker who occasionally repairs things. Probably by tomorrow morning the new lights are stolen but for now I'm good. Once inside my own place I slip into something comfy and fluffy and cosy. I need that now. I switch on the vid-wall and select a channel with nice music and pretty images. Then I make myself a coffee, add a few lumps of fudge and stick myself on the couch. Thoughts about the article with the Flyer seep into my head. Well, better than people dying. People who saw him said he really flew! How would he have pulled that one off? Maybe Mags has a clue so I try to get him in a call but he doesn't answer. That's weird. He always answers. Oh, frip! I tell the computer to call Dolores. She's not there either. Probably in the Red District Bar again, running around something like naked. I leave her a message to thank her for the talk and the bottle of wine and how she had taken care of me. No sooner do I end that one and Bashir calls. "Hey you. You look fine, " he greets me. "Hey you too. Thanks for last night. I feel fine."He nods, his face showing genuine worry. "You sure? I heard about the one that slipped off today so I thought I'd check."I swear that guy is spying on me. He knows every miserable little thing I do, say or eat at that hospital! But it is nice of him to call. "Yes. That was pretty sour." I don't want to talk about that. "Say, did you see the Flyer in the news?"That brightens up his expression. "I did! Didn't we tell you people saw him?""Okay, okay, you were right, we were wrong. Sorry about that, Bashir. But isn't that amazing? How would he do that flying thing?"Bashir leans back, I recognise the old chair he hangs in. It's his favourite. "I tried to figure that out too. I first thought of a tractor beam like they use in deep space but that would be too dangerous. That would rip someone apart. So I gave up."We talk a bit more about the article, look at the pictures together and I sugg

onald had in him that was an entirely valid explanation. Because the drugs were illegal it all had gotten to a court case in which everything came out. And I walked, a free woman. For a while I got a small pension-like allowance from Donald's work but they went bankrupt so that money stopped coming in. That was when I had to leave the nice Ramblos apartment and move to Sin Angeles. During that time I met Bashir, as I had to report to hospital a few times for psychic evaluation after what had happened to my 'husband'. He told me to apply for a job at General Clinic, they discovered the psychic bit and that got me the position. My mother takes in a sharp breath. "The judge said you had fought him off and because of that pressure he got a seizure. Of course anyone would have fought off a person in that state. But I did not call you to talk about this. It's to express our concern, child. Priscilla." She corrects herself when I shoot her a look. Mother will never accept the real outcome of the court ruling. "I guess you found a nice man for me?" I try not to sound hostile. "I think we have, yes. We are naturally not forcing you into anything but suppose you were to visit us again, it's been a while after all..."That's true. I haven't seen them in person in months. "Okay, I'll drop by someday soon but I am not going to give you a day and time, mom. There is no need for you to make sure that Mr. Semi perfect is there. I do things my own way now and so far I am fripping pleased with that."My mother looks to the side. To my dad, I am sure. Then she sighs again. "Very well then. We are looking forward to seeing you again. But please, Priscilla, you should see to your hair."Involuntarily I run my hand through my hair. Yes, it stands out in all directions, but that's the afro in me that I inherited from dad. He just shaves it so it doesn't show. "My hair is fine, mom. But maybe I'll colour it blue. Or yellow.""You should not!" Mom looks shocked and only then she manages a smile. She knows I would never do that. "Do not forget to come and see us, child. Have a nice evening, your dad also sends his best.""Bye mom." I am not sure she hears it. Donald and his drugs flash through my mind again. And then I think of Anthony.

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