Date: 10/5/2000
From: SouthernSlider

Good morning all. Things are heating up again. Fasten your safety belts. The turbulence is getting rough.
------------------------------------

United We Slide, Divided . . . We Disappear

Chapter Eighteen

Quinn sat back dejectedly in his seat and stared
out the window. The blue water below him stretched
out infinitely and blurred to nothingness.

“We made it out just in time, buddy,” the pilot
yelled. “That storm behind us is kicking up a fuss.”
Quinn didn’t acknowledge his words. The pilot
noticed his despondent demeanor and said no more.

Quinn continued to sit, staring out the window,
his face propped on his fist. His brother was dead, and
there had been nothing but animosity and harsh words
between them in their last hours together. He covered
his face with his hand. How could he go on? How
could he tell Remmy and Maggie? They would hate
him as much as Colin did in his last days.

"Home base? This is 714KX10. Do you
copy?" said the pilot.

"We copy, 714KX10? What's the story?"

"We got an injured man on board. He's
unconscious. Don't know about other injuries. We
need an ambulance. Arrival in ten minutes."

"Will do. Only one man?"

"That's a roger. One survivor. No sign of
others or the plane. 714KX10, out."

The pilot's words echoed in Quinn's ears. 'One
survivor; no sign of others . . . no sign of others.'

He was still in oblivion when the plane landed.
An ambulance awaited near the runway. Quinn rode
with Conie to the hospital, but refused to stay with the
man. He had had enough. He told the hospital
personnel Conie’s name, but said that was all he knew
about him. He left before the authorities arrived.

Arriving at the airport some thirty minutes
later, he waited for an empty seat on a plane headed
back to the mainland. After sitting in a stupor for three
hours, he was paged and told there has been a
cancellation on the next flight leaving in forty-five
minutes. He bought the ticket, waited until the
boarding call, then went to his seat without
acknowledging anyone who tried to speak with him.

He laid his head against the side of the plane,
folded his arms and closed his eyes. He never moved a
muscle until the flight attendant gently shook his
shoulder to inform him the plane had landed and
everyone had disembarked.

On the way back to the hotel, he passed the
Sassy Brass Bar. He decided to go in, and slumped
down on a stool, laying a twenty down with a slap.

"Use it up," he growled.

The bartender frowned, recognizing the guy
from the other day. He was the one with the picture of
his brother who left looking for Kelly. By the look on
his face, Brad figured he hadn't been successful.

It was a bartender's occupation to chat up with
the customers, but this time he decided silence was the
only path to take. This man didn't look interested in
conversation. He plopped a mug of beer on the counter
and swiped up the spill using a damp towel with one
hand while tucking away the twenty with the other.

Quinn grabbed the mug and drained it in record
time. He slapped it on the bar hard enough to shatter
it. He was lucky it didn't.

"Don't you think you'd better take it easy,
fellow?"

"It's not your job to determine how I drink. I
paid my money, you took it. Now give me another
one."

The bartender said nothing in response to
Quinn's angry words. He refilled the mug and set it in
front of him, shaking his head. Quinn repeated the
scene of a minute ago, and hit the bar with an empty
mug once more.

"Again!" he said loudly.

"Now look, fellow . . ."

Quinn shot up from the stool, reached over the
bar and grabbed the bartender by the shirt. They were
almost nose to nose. Brad knew he could take the guy
out, but just this once he let him vent his anger. But
only this once.

"Look, man. I'm not interested in your advice.
Just refill the damn mug!" He let the man's shirt go
with a jerk and sat down again.

Brad did as he was instructed, then turned
toward the telephone as Quinn quickly downed the
third one. In a matter of minutes, two policemen
entered the premises. They spotted a man slumped at
the bar sloppily draining a full mug of beer. Brad
nodded his head at their questioning eyes.

"Young man, you're moving kind of fast there,
aren't you?" said the first officer as they approached
Quinn.

Quinn peered at the them with hooded eyes.
"Leave me alone," he said with a slur. "I haven't done
anything wrong."

"No, sir, not yet. But if you keep drinking like
that, you just might. Why don't you let me and Officer
Higgins take you home to sleep this off?"

Officer Jones started to take Quinn by the arm.
Quinn jerked away. "Don't touch me!" he yelled.

Before the officers knew what happened, Quinn
was off the stool swinging at them with both arms. He
connected with Jones's jaw and barely missed Higgins.
His momentum carried him forward and he hit the
floor. In his drunken stupor, he tried to rise and
continue his assault. Jones recovered, and the two
officers grabbed him by the arms. They wrestled with
him a few minutes before getting the upper hand and
getting handcuffs on him.

"Somehow I knew you were going to do
something wrong, big boy. Come on, let's go." said
Jones. He led the reluctant Quinn toward the door as
the few other patrons looked on. "Thanks Brad. Let us
know when you need us again." he called out.

"Sure thing, Jonesy. Thanks for being so
quick," Brad called out as they headed out to the patrol
car.

Minutes later Quinn found himself being rudely
thrown into a jail cell. As he hit the grungy cot, he
vaguely remembered being fingerprinted and read his
charges. “Drunk and disorderly, striking an officer,
resisting arrest.” Maybe he would rot in jail. He
deserved it.

***

“We’re back,” said Maggie as she made her
way to the desk. “Any messages from our friend?”

The clerk retrieved the envelope and handed it
to her with the key. “He called not long after you guys
left. Haven’t heard from him since.” Remmy frowned
at the news, then headed with Maggie up to the suite.

“What’s it say, girl?” he asked as Maggie tore
open the envelope.

“Nothing. I mean, he’s found nothing,” she
said. “But he’s determined to stay there until he does.”
She plopped down on the sofa beside Remmy.

He took the timer out of his jacket pocket and
gave it the once over. “Look we’ve got a few days
here. Why don’t we head on over there to see if we
can help. If we turn up nothing, we’ll fly back in time
to slide out again. What do you say?”

She jumped up and paced around. “God, I hate
this yo-yoing back and forth. But maybe you’re right.
Going over there would be a change of pace, and we
might be able to help. I say let’s go.” They grabbed
the phone book and made plane reservations, then
headed out. Luckily there was a flight leaving in two
hours. They stopped by the desk to leave another
message for Quinn, just in case they crossed paths in
the air. That would just be their luck, Maggie had
thought when Remmy made the observation out loud.

As the flight took off, carrying the two on their
way, Quinn lay passed out in his jail cell. Horrid
dreams of those he had loved and lost tortured him in
his sleep.
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Hmmmmm. Quinn doing hard time. <no pun intended - get your mind out of the gutter!> Poor baby.

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SS

Wha?????

Date: 10/5/2000
From: dellyone

SS,

You left us hanging again.:-) Bravo. Hmm... how long will Quinn stay in that cell? Another riveting installment. I can't wait for the next one.

dellyone

AWWWWww maN! .. poor quinn

Date: 10/5/2000
From: weeeezr

See what happens kids when we mix emotions and alcohol?
we get the tenshits beat out of us.....
HEY.. is kelly ok??? you didnt say if kelly was ok??
grrr...
WHENS the next episode???

weez

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