Chapter 25

Ellen, Hero Caretaker, for all that she’d chewed her nails to the quick over the last three days ... that’s the day they could come and the next two ... was so relieved when the portal opened that she lit into them. Worried half to death turned into pissed beyond belief.

When the accusation, “YOU ARE LATE!” is accompanied by the “MOM” look, the party on the receiving end of that look shakes right down to his/her toes. And then the accuser notices the bandage wrapped head of the previously disabled party. Women ... being women ... immediately incriminated JW ... it is ALWAYS the male who done it! ALWAYS!

It is one of the facts of life. The woman is always right even if she is wrong. Ellen, having been sure they weren’t coming back, was going to lose her plush position ... and the sex.

Just think about it ... JW was a TEENAGER! Her limited experience with fooling around was in high school ... he was a teen ... she had expectations ... that those expectations didn’t pan out wasn’t her fault. Now she had another teen! Hot Damn!

And he hadn’t shown up ... Dumped before she started. Now he was here ... with his Hero Companion ... sure she was rather plain ... but she did look like fun in the sack.

“What did you do?” Ellen asked.

She wasn’t looking at either of them.

So ... as one voice ... they said.

“I told her we were going,” JW said.

“I hit my head because I didn’t duck,” Zo said.

The only part that was understood was the first “I”. The rest of it was: ‘ToldhitmyherbecauseweIweredidn’tgoingduck.”

And they both looked guilty.

Cassandran women have learned to analyze and plan ahead. They have to if they wanna get laid ... and they ALL want to.

“Hit your head?”

“On the hatch.”

Years and years of watching Earth Television have acclimated the women of Cassandra to the various broadcast languages ... they understand cars, boats, houses and elevators.

Hatch meant boat and boat meant water and water meant lakes or oceans.

“You have a small boat?”

“Forty eight foot,” said JW.

“That’s pretty big,” said Ellen, “for a lake.”

“Ocean,” said Zo. “It’s okay.” She sounded hesitant.

“I can stand up and not hit my head,” explained JW. “I have to duck getting into my ... our ... stateroom ... cabin. The hatches are lower.”

“I was running,” Zo said. “I bounce.” She looked down. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Wait. Your portal is on a boat? On the water?” She looked up.

“Is Miss Eva available.”

The ceiling said, “I’ll ask. Hero Caretaker Ellen?”

“Yes?”

“What is your primary job?”

“Shit...” she shook herself, “May I offer you refreshment?”

“Why, yes,” JW said. He had studied his mom’s journals about his dad’s adventures doing hero work on Chaos ... one thing that stood out were meals provided by the Ceiling. “I’d like a porterhouse steak, seared outside and warm in the middle, running in juice, with a baked potato the size of two fists and served up with home-churned salted butter, sour cream on the side and a chilled spinach and organic kale salad with ranch dressing. A pint of nut brown peanut butter milk stout, room temperature ... iced drinks are bad for the digestion ... and water. No wine ... I have a grape allergy. What would you like, Zo?”

“Zo?”

She shook her head like she’d been dreaming, “OW. That hurts.”

Sam the chamber said, “She’ll eat after I fix that nasty bump. Come here, Zoe.”

I had my meal in solitary splendor. Zo was in the chamber a long time. Longer than her first time. Sure ... I ate it all. Then I realized Zo was still in Sam. Ashes ... the meal turned to ashes. I felt awful. And Ellen ... jeez ... it was my fault she got hurt and now I’m heartless for eating while my companion was suffering.

I tell ya ... that worked for a few minutes. Then I remembered.

I didn’t feel a damn thing last time! Suffering? My ass.

And Mistress Eva, Greeter coordinator of Crossroad greeters, a position she’d had for positively centuries, showed up.

“What’s the trouble, Ellen?”

“Apprentice Hero JW Flintkote of Earth and his Apprentice Hero’s Companion Zoe have a portal on a boat,” she paused for effect, giving Mistress Eva just enough time to conjure up a picture of a boatyard with a myriad of forlorn boats rotting away on the hardstand because the boat owners were too old to keep pouring money into repair, when Ellen continued, “The boat is on the water, the water being an ocean.”

“You have a moving portal?”