Date: 9/15/2000
From: SouthernSlider

Ahhhhhh. How refreshing to see other posts.
DMD, you are so funny. Do you sit up nights just thinking of that stuff -- or do you play hooky from work? Thanks for taking time away from the fun you're having with UT jokes to bring us that little ditty. Now let's see how they faired.
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United We Slide, Divided . . . We Disappear

Chapter Seven

Kelly sputtered as water splashed over her face. She spit when she realized the water was salty, and tried to open her eyes. They stung harshly, and she squeezed them
shut. Her arms ached and her head pounded. She moaned and tried all over again to open her eyes.

The world around her was eerily quiet, except for the sound of lapping water. The material beneath her cheek was wet and rubbery. When she finally managed to take peek,
she realized it was a rubber raft she was grasping. Slowly, she managed to move her head and look at her surroundings, not quite coherent enough to remember what happened.

She was surrounded by water. To her right another figure clung to the small raft. A man. She reached out with her right hand, but couldn’t quite reach the arm that held
precariously to the side of the floating object. When she turned to her left another figure lay face down floating in the water, attached to nothing. She groaned as she thought of the probable dead man, but who? Another figure floated on his back. All of them wore life jackets.

The sun beat down unmercifully throwing points of glittering light upon the water. There was not one single cloud in the sky, she noticed as she strained to look upward, one eye squinting against the harshness. Her throat was dry. When she tried to speak, nothing but a cracked grunt came forth. What on earth had happened?

She lay still for a bit longer trying to gather her thoughts and some strength to make a move. She finally found the strength and courage to let go of the raft and paddle over to the man floating face down. She cringed, but knew she had to touch him, had to turn his face up from the water to identify him.

First, she grabbed his wrist to feel for a pulse. Nothing. Then she struggled to turn him to get a look at his face. Cal Thompson. Oh, God! The band. The realization brought her to life.

Kelly suddenly begin to flounder around, turning and twisting to find other bodies. Where were the others? There should be another. No. Two more. She remembered
hiring on another just before heading to Hawaii. She swam to the one floating face up. It was Conie, and he was still breathing. Thank God! He was her only link to home.

“Please, God. Don’t let him die on me. Please,” she pleaded, salty tears mingling with salty ocean water.

Again, she twisted and turned in the water to locate more bodies but could see nothing. Nothing but water from horizon to horizon. She swam back to the raft. Colin
clung to the side, but he was hurt. His head was bleeding. Blood! Sharks!

“Oh, no. We have to get into the raft. Colin! Colin! Wake up! Please, God. Help me wake him up. Help me! I can’t do this alone!” she cried as she shook him, then
pounded on his shouder. She tried to push him up, but only the raft moved with each shove. He slipped from the edge and started floating face down.

“No! No, you can’t do that!” she yelled at the unconscious form. She tugged and pulled until she had him floating on his back. When she turned around, she noticed the
raft starting to float away.

“Oh, God! We have to have the raft.” She left Colin, blood starting to run down the side of his face, and swam until she reached the raft. Straining and tugging, kicking
and splashing hard enough to wake the dead on the ocean floor, she finally pulled herself up and over into the raft. Grabbing one of the oars, she made her way to Colin. For a split second, it was war to decide who to go for first, Colin or Conie, but she knew she needed to get Colin in before anymore blood found its way into the water.

She grabbed his life vest and pulled, then an arm. More than once she almost flipped over and out herself, but she finally managed to get his upper body over the edge.
She then pulled at his pants, inching him upward just a little more. One more massive pull ought to do it, she thought. She closed her eyes, swallowed hard and grabbed
between his legs, giving him one last hard yank. He slid in, knocking her backwards as he fell in a slump on top of her.

She tugged and pulled, then finally managed to throw him aside. It was probably cruel and unusual punishment, but he was unconscious so maybe it wouldn’t matter too
much. When she was completely free, she spent only a second getting him prone on the raft floor, then grabbed the paddle and headed in a fury toward Conie.

The same scene was repeated in getting him out of the water and into the raft. When he, too, was settled she lay back against the side, wet hair plastered to the side of
her face, breathing hard, and wept.

***

The door to his office flew open, banging against the wall behind it. Charlie Owens jerked and banged his knee against the desk drawer as he jumped up.

“Ow! Dammit to hell! What in the blue blazes is goin’ on?” he yelled at the young man bounding toward him. “I ain’t got no cash in here, boy. You’re wastin’ your
time.” He tried to fumble for the drawer next to him, but the man was upon him too quickly.

“I’m not here to rob you,” said Quinn as he leaned over the desk, fingers splayed across the mountain of papers covering it. “I need answers.” His breathing was labored.

“Answers to what? You don’t get answers by plowing into my office like a mad man. You get your fool ass shot off, is what you get!” Charlie suddenly found the drawer
handle, pulled it furiously, and produced a gun, pointing it only inches from Quinn’s nose.

Quinn raised his hands in the air and backed up a couple of steps. He realized, too late, his entrance had been a little overbearing and threatening.

“Please, sir. I’m sorry. I’m not here to harm you at all. I just need to know something about one of your clients. It’s a matter of life and death. Please.” Quinn
backed up another step to distance himself from the offensive weapon, hoping to show the man he meant no harm.

Charlie squinted his eyes and sized him up, never moving the gun. It was ready to blow a hole right through the intruder if he made the slightest move toward him. He
looked him over a couple of more minutes as Quinn continued to apologize profusely, then finally lowered the gun.

“I’m gonna take you at your word for the moment. But I promise you, I’m quick on the draw. One false move and I’ll shove the barrel of this gun up your ass and take
pleasure in doing it.” He waved it around for emphasis then set it on the desk. His hand was mere inches away. “Now - what client?”

Quinn released the breath he had been holding and asked if he could lower his hands. The man waved his hand for a yes, and Quinn started to explain as best he could.

“I need to know about a band that has a singer named Kelly. They played in the Sassy Brass Bar two nights ago and were scheduled to leave for Hawaii for today.”

“You lookin’ to hit up on the girl? I don’t give out no personal information about my people to perfect strangers. How do I know you ain’t some lunatic lookin’ to do crazy
stuff to her? Especially after your entrance.” He picked up the gun again and pointed.

“Sir, please. I’m not a lunatic. I know it looked that way when I came in, but I’m just frantic to find my brother. He was with Kelly the other night at the bar. The
bartender said he went home with her. It’s imperitive that I find him. I just wanted to know if you knew anything about him - if he was with Kelly when she left for Hawaii.”

“Tall, slender guy? Looks a little bit like you?” Charlie said laying the gun down once again.

“Yes, yes. That’s him! You saw him? Is he still around here?” Quinn stepped forward, forgetting about the gun in his excitement.

“Yeah. He signed on with the group. Kelly had her heart set on him, bless her. She’s a sucker for the down and out. But the other guys thought it was a good idea too.
Said they needed some help.”

“He went with them to Hawaii, then?”

“Yep. Left out early this morning. Won’t be back for two weeks.”

“Where are they staying? I have to reach him immediately.” Charlie eyed him again. Quinn knew he was going to be hesitant about giving out that information.
“Please, sir. Like I said, it’s a matter of life and death. I have to reach him.”

Charlie finally relented and pulled the file folder from his desk. He wrote the name and number to the hotel on a piece of paper and handed it over to the distraught
man. Quinn grabbed it and ran toward the door. He stopped short before leaving.

“Thank you, sir. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. You just saved a family.” He then disappeared down the hallway.

“Crazy, fool idiot,” Charlie mumbled as he put the gun back in its place of hiding. “Coulda got his friggin’ ass shot off, comin’ in here like that.” He sat down,
rubbing his banged knee, and continued to mumble incoherently as he returned to work.
--------------------------------

Ahhhhh. The thlot pickens.
Don't know if I'll get to post more before Monday or not. Maybe there'll be another chapter tomorrow or Sunday, but not sure at this point.

Good luck on the BIG GAME tomorrow, DMD.

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SS

Almost Gator, or, uh, Shark Bait!

Date: 9/15/2000
From: DieselMickeyDolenz

Now how in the world are they going to get out of this mess? If Colin swims like he runs, they're in for a loooong day ;)

DMD

Original URL http://www.scifi.com/bboard/browse.cgi/1/5/1095/2841
Nominated by DieselMickeyDolenz