Chapter 32

Professor Waters said, “Jimmy? Where did Selene go?”

“To fetch a towel.”

“What ever for?”

James turned and faced his dad.

“I see,” Professor Waters said. A father laughing at his son isn’t a good move. Seventeen year old males can hold grudges. Having been there, done that and had a tee-shirt printed up commemorating the event, Dr. Waters was struggling to keep a straight face. The exploded snot bubble covered James face from hairline to chin.

My dad, clueless Professor Dent, said, “Towels in the sauna.”

Naked Marsha didn’t even attempt to hold back ... she almost drowned.

I, on the other hand, hadn’t fetched a towel from the sauna. No. I was in my bedroom, face buried in my pillow ... howling.

My mind said, ‘Selene Susan Dent ... it’s not funny.’ My evil twin, still laughing, rumbled through my soul, laughing hysterically. I flat wore me out...

I got the hiccups.

A small glass of ice water didn’t help.

Breathing in a paperbag didn’t work.

Hugging my knees to my chest? Nope.

I had lemon and vinegar ... I tried both of those.

Finally, I held my breath until I turned blue ... and while I was blue ... Daddy slammed my door and shouted,

“Selene!”

I jumped a mile.

No hiccups.

Gasping I said, “Thanks, daddy.”

“Come on. We have USGS provenience for the cave mouth. ‘Muddy’ is ready.”

I grabbed a towel. On the way out my door, daddy looked the question.

“Hiccups,” I said.

Chuckling, he grinned, “Ah,” he replied, “Marsha almost drowned.”

“I don’t know if I can fix it.”

Sotta voce, daddy said, “Like him, do you?”

I nodded. Without looking at him, I handed James the towel ... and sunk myself,

I didn’t even think about it ... I said, “Here ya go, Jimmy.”

Oh shit.

James Waters turned red.

Ignoring his father, he marched to the pickup, violently jerked open the door, threw himself in the seat and floored it.

Our setting is grass ... grass all around the hangar.

Well ... it was. Now there are two dirt strips slewing across the grass. Clods and clumps of grassy dirt were still falling out of the sky as the roaring pickup, trailing blue exhaust smoke, disappeared around the side of my shipping container home.

Soon ... very soon, the truck came careening back ... the gate was locked.

Jimmy glared at me as he slid the truck sideways and headed for Blue Bluff road. At 969 ... as we later found out ... he ran the light, got chased by the troopers, apprehended, cuffed and jailed.

Daddy made ME bail him out.

We are still not speaking.

That came later.

We had the equipment needed to locate, offically, the interior of the cave. The GPS Laser mapped every inch and stored the measurements on ‘stick’ and DVD.

A copy was sent to the United States Geological Service and one to the Archives at the Castle of the Princessapality ... at least ... that was the official address. When Junior showed up she said that the actual recipient was a complex deep underground out west ‘somewhere.’

The USGS received their copy out of courtesy between agencies.

The last copy was sent to Archaeology, a British multi-national scientific publication available to the world by subscription.

The FED A hates the publication out of fear. Fear that ‘subversives’ will obtain ‘top secret’ information about the FED A and use the information ‘subversively.’

“But ... it’s not top secret,” you say. The FED A responds, “It might be ... someday.”

Junior doesn’t care. “It’s archaeology. Digging extremely accurate holes in dirt to find out what dead people did centuries ago.” That always got a wry grin ... often photographed ... often published on social media ... the Princess doing her bit for science.

Daddy and I spent the weekend setting up lights and ‘THE GRID.’

Sooner or later, the break-down west of the dome will ‘have to be cleared’ ... to find out what’s there ... or not there.

What isn’t is as important as what is.

When we came out of the cave, cellphones connected and voice and text messages were bountiful.

Daddy made me go bail James out of jail. Daddy wanted me to bail out the pickup ... no! Evidence! The pickup was STATE PROPERTY.

Seven ... the person, not the group ... came along as attorney ... legal representative...

Seven produced a Texas Law License and was admitted and allowed to represent one James Waters as counsel.

Bail was arranged ... I paid.

Jimmy was NOT pleased.