Curds and Whey Box Set

by G M Eppers

  Miss Chiff responded quickly to Dinny’s question. “No, there were no reports of weapons fire, and fortunately no explosion, either, which leads me to believe there may be survivors. They all have survival training, but they won’t last indefinitely.”

  “You can track them with their STD’s, though, right?” asked Dinny.

  “No.” Miss Chiff was choking on frustration and worry. “They haven’t even begun their upgrade yet. There’s the plane’s beacon to help you find it, but no way to locate the people. And they won’t necessarily be together.”

  “Okay, I’m on it,” said Dinny, sounding more confident now that the shock of the news had worn off. “I’ll be ready to take off as soon as the team gets here.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Rosensglet.”

  The van was rolling to a stop in front of the Banshee’s Breath. “Billings, we’ll return the van at the airport. Everyone, time is short. Get a move on.”

  We exited the van and went into the pub. While everyone else hurried upstairs, I found Roxy nursing an iced tea. She’d listened to the entire conversation and rose before I even got to her, abandoning the last third of her drink. Payment had already been placed on the bar. “I gave the warrant to the front desk. They are going to forward it to the authorities and send a copy to Chembassador Zickman.” She joined me at the bottom of the stairs.

  We followed the rest upstairs, getting to our room in time to see Sylvia zipping up her go bag. “This is hard,” she said. “It doesn’t feel right leaving in the middle of things.”

  “I know,” I said as I dashed around the room collecting yesterday’s clothing and the few sundries I’d made use of from the bathroom. “It doesn’t happen often.”

  Then we were running back down the stairs where Billings was already at the front desk closing out the rooms. “I recruited Avis to gather my things,” he said as he waited for the clerk to bring the printed receipt for his signature. “I wouldn’t trust Agnes. She has a bit of a jealous streak, but Avis will keep an eye on her.” He winked. It lightened the mood just enough. The clerk slapped the receipt on the countertop and he signed. “She wants to come back here for the honeymoon.”

  “Here?” I asked. It was hardly a romantic getaway.

  “Well, not here exactly, but Ireland. Maybe Dublin.”

  The clerk, hearing that his hometown left something to be desired, openly pouted as he took the signed receipt and gave Billings his copy, taking back the pen petulantly. “Good day, sir.” It was night, and there wasn’t much good about it at the moment, but Billings accepted the greeting amiably.

  I resumed my seat in the back of the van and counted heads. Everyone was in. “Let’s roll.”

  Twenty minutes later we were rolling into the airport. As we drove to the Europcar kiosk, I could see the CURDS1 sitting on the tarmac waiting for us, bathed in floodlights. My heart skipped a beat, thinking about our plane going down as well. It’s safe, I told myself. You know the statistics. Safer than the van you just got out of. Safer, overall, than the damn shower. Nevertheless, my unease led me to a decision regarding the rescue mission. I needed to talk to Dinny.

  There was the hustle of everyone boarding the plane, storing their go bags in the locker room, and finding a seat. The seriousness and personal impact of the situation settled a pall over the usual ritual. Dinny welcomed us in a quiet voice. “I’ll be co-piloting, but I’ll serve a meal before we land. I don’t know what they eat in the Congo,” she sniffed. I think she’d been crying. “Whatever it is, I probably don’t have any of it in the pantry, anyway. It won’t be the usual appropriate meal. I could Google it, I suppose, but I think maybe some kind of salad. I have greens. Jungles are green, right?”

  I stopped her with a hug just outside the cockpit. “Anything will be fine, Dinny. Really. Are you okay?”

  “Oh, sure. I’m fine.” She said, trying to pull herself together. “I just get a little weepy at plane crashes. It’s nothing serious.”

  I gave her another hug. “Listen, I have something to ask you after we’re cruising. Is it all right if I come into the cockpit? It won’t take long.” I knew protocol was normally no one outside of the crew in the cockpit during flight, but I needed to make an exception. And it would probably be easier to talk to her after she was in front of a panel of buttons and switches with important things to do. Once she could focus on flying, the waterworks would get under control.

  I was right. When we reached cruising altitude, I unbuckled and headed toward the cockpit. I could hear voices behind me but resisted turning around.

  “She’s going to the cockpit.” That was from one of the twins.

  From Sylvia, “Is that allowed?”

  An echo from Nitro: “Can she do that?”

  And from Roxy: “I’m not even sure…”

  The cockpit door opened as I approached and Dinny stepped out, bending down to open the gate that secured the cats inside a large alcove that contained a large litter box on one side of the three carriers, and food and water on the other. She reached in and released the latches on each carrier. Backwash and Harelip came bounding out, winding around each other in excitement before leaving the alcove in search of human companionship. Behind them sauntered T.B., pausing to lick one paw and swipe his ear. He resigned himself to his supervisory role and followed the other two.

  “Come on,” said Dinny, holding the door open for me. “But make it quick. You know this is against protocols.”

  “I know, but I have something to ask, and I thought you’d prefer to do it in private.”

  I entered the cockpit as Dinny returned to the co-pilot seat and strapped in. Kevin, in the pilot seat, turned his head toward me, then told Dinny, “I’m not leaving.” His five o’clock shadow was at about ten fifteen and his headset microphone sat atop a fluffy mop of jet black hair. The sleeves of his dress shirt were unbuttoned and folded up to his elbows, his suit jacket draped over the back of his chair.

  “She means private from the rest of the field team, Kev.” Still strapped in, she swiveled her chair to face me, ready to spin back and into action at a moment’s notice. “What is it, Helena?”

  I stood there a moment, examining the amazing array of buttons and switches. Some were even in the ceiling. Anyone else would have had to crouch, but I wasn’t even in danger of hitting my head, as I looked out the front windows. We were flying through a hazy blue sky, seemingly riding on fluffy white clouds. Cruising was so boring. I wondered how pilots even stayed awake. After a minute, I looked at Dinny’s expectant face. “I want you to come with us.”

  It took a beat for my meaning to get through. “What? You mean to the Congo?”

  “Yes. Dinny, if we find the plane…I mean, when we find the plane, I’m going to want someone there who knows what to look for.”

  “You’ll be looking for Team C, right?” She was avoiding the real issue. I could tell she knew what I was saying, but it was making her nervous. “The C Team pilot can answer any questions. I think it was Carol’s turn. Carol Widdenhouse. She took me up for practice a few times when I was training. Very smart woman. Knows planes inside and out.”

  Even though I didn’t have to, I crouched down a little to get closer to Dinny’s eye level. “Dinny, you know there’s a chance Carol might be injured.” I didn’t say she might be dead, but I thought it. The cockpit is hardly the safest place to be in a plane crash. “She might not be able to help us. We’re going to need someone we can count on. Now, I can’t force you to come. But I think your particular knowledge would be very helpful.”

  She gulped. “But it’s the Congo. It’s a jungle down there. And that’s not even a metaphor!”

  “Listen,” I said, knowing it was not a short flight, “think about it. I’m sure Miss Chiff wouldn’t have a problem with it. I have a certain amount of discretion when choosing additional personnel. But Roxy will have to make up a waiver for you, and you’ll have to sign it. It would just mean you understand why you are coming with and that you accept my a
uthority while we’re there. I’m going to have her get it ready, just in case. You can wait until the very last minute to decide.”

  She nodded numbly, glancing at the cloud cover outside the front window.

  “Besides, don’t you want to know what happened? Don’t you want to see Carol and the rest of the team?” I stood up straight again. “Do you really want to wait on the plane this time?”

  “But the cats –“

  Kevin, with a friendly grin, offered, “I’ll take care of the cats, Dinny. I promise. I won’t beat them or anything.”

  “I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

  “Okay. I’d really appreciate your help, Dinny. But no hard feelings if you decide not to go. Seriously.” I put one hand on her shoulder briefly, then started to leave the cockpit. At the doorway, I turned back again. “Or Kevin could come with, actually. But we need someone who knows about planes. I’ll take either one of you. You two decide.” I directed my last comments directly to Kevin. “It’s nice meeting you, Mr. –“ I suddenly realized I didn’t know his last name.

  He smiled and blushed. “Kevin. Just Kevin.”

  Dinny pushed a button almost absent-mindedly. “He’s shy about his last name because it’s Butz.”

  “Hey!” Kevin objected.

  “Relax.” Dinny’s right hand went to a few more buttons seemingly of its own accord. “She won’t care and she won’t tell.”

  “You said you wouldn’t tell.” Kevin looked annoyed, but not angry. His hands were on the yoke as he held the plane steady.

  “Nice to meet you, Kevin.” I used his preferred form of address, but felt almost like I’d accomplished something just because I now knew his name. “The invitation stands. Either one of you. Try to let me know at least an hour before we land. Okay?”

  As I left, I noticed the two of them exchanging suspicious looks. It could be that they both wanted to go, or that neither wanted to go, or that each felt the other should go, and it was way too complicated for me to figure it out. I just hoped I’d have one of them. I really did want someone knowledgeable about planes, and not just any planes but specifically CURDS planes which were outfitted differently from the commercial planes they used to be.

  As I came out of the cockpit, I passed the cat alcove, which had clearly seen some activity. New deposits were in the litter box and some of the litter was on the floor of the alcove. There was a reason the carriers stood between the litter boxes and the food. The food and water had also been disturbed. T.B. was sitting there looking very pleased with himself, having kept himself busy while waiting for me to come out the door. “Hey, T.B.” I grabbed the small whisk broom and dustpan from its hook, knelt down, and straightened up the alcove floor before I entered the cabin of the plane following my feline escort.

  Immediately I heard, “Pst!” in a whispered voice. The sound was repeated, and I noticed Billings’ hands and the top half of his head above the ledge of the wall on the upper deck. Billings was here, I thought, thinking about the old Kilroy drawing that was popular during the WWII era. “Mom, up here. You gotta see this.” I wasn’t sure why we had to be quiet, but I climbed the steps as stealthily as I could. T.B. looked at me, but declined to follow. He curled up on the window seat I normally occupied, knowing eventually I would get back there. Nearly everyone was on the upper deck, sitting at the table, watching Backwash and Harelip. A quick glance over my shoulder told me that Badger had not joined them. He appeared to be studying his new Chinese vocabulary. Weird guy. Feline entertainment lost to a Chinese language lesson that he wasn’t even likely to need for his job. Shanghaied by the Shanghai dialect. I didn’t have a problem deciding which activity I preferred. Even Roxy had forgone working on her project of crocheting a ball of yarn to watch.

  I slipped into an empty spot at the table. The two cats were hugging the exterior wall. Backwash was avidly licking Harelip about the ears and neck. Harelip was, I think the term is meatloafing, sitting with all four paws underneath, quite comfortable with the attention. “Oh, that’s so cute,” I whispered.

  “Wait,” said Nitro. “I’ve seen this before, but Harelip always leaves.”

  “Seen what before?”

  “Wait.”

  Backwash nipped Harelip’s scruff and held it as he maneuvered himself over her hind quarters. Harelip’s rear legs peeked out, pushing her butt up a bit. They froze for a moment, then Backwash wiggled. Harelip wriggled. They froze again. Backwash’s hind quarters pumped up and down a few times and Harelip yowled. Finally, Backwash leapfrogged over Harelip, who darted away an instant later. Nitro started laughing. “I think they just joined the Mile High Club, Helena.” It seemed Harelip was more of a joiner than I was. I quit the Brownies because they never served actual brownies at the meetings. I quit band because the uniforms made me look fat. I was more vain back then. Now I only hate clothes that make me look short. CURDS is the only thing I’ve ever joined that I was able to stick with.

  “Wait, they can’t,” I argued. “They’re both fixed.”

  “Oh, it’s just instinct,” he explained. “Nothing will come of it.” The two were already playing Chase the Invisible Mouse.

  Sylvia’s eyes were twinkling with delight. Although her left eye was artificial, the socket still contained active tear ducts. “I’m glad they get along so well. I’ve been worried that Harelip would be a problem.” Although I had physically carried Harelip on board the plane, it was Sylvia who had rescued the tuxedo cat from an unsavory death in a Chinatown restaurant in Paris. She had paid for it with her eye, but you could tell she didn’t regret it one bit.

  The show over, people began returning to their regular plane travel activities. Billings had produced a deck of cards and he, the twins, Sir Haughty, Sylvia and Nitro gathered around the table to play. “You’re not playing for money, are you?” I frowned on gambling. It tended to lead to distrust and fights, even among good friends.

  “Nope.” Billings tapped the deck on the table and began to shuffle. “Ante up, guys.”

  I turned away when Sir Haughty removed his ubiquitous cravat, Avis and Agnes each took off one earring, and Nitro slipped off his watch. Sylvia took off a shoe and put it in the middle of the table with the other things. Billings stopped shuffling long enough to pull a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Should I ask Dinny to up the thermostat?”

  “Not yet,” replied Nitro. He seemed to be wearing the least amount of clothing and was definitely aware of it.

  Roxy, waiting at the top of the staircase, winced. “Do I have the authority to arrest someone for indecent exposure?”

  “You’re asking me?” I shot back. She was the legal counsel. “Oh, hey,” I added. “I’ve got a job for you.” As we went together down the stairs I explained about the waiver I needed without mentioning a name.

  “Who is it for?”

  “I don’t know yet. Not for sure. Is that a problem?”

  “I can deal.” She went to her chair, one of the inside seats right next to the upper deck, and pulled her tablet out of her bag, stuffing some yarn back in as she sat.

  I moved away to let her work and wandered over to see how Badger was doing with his vocabulary. The seats were too far away for rear mounted tray tables, so fold-down tables were attached to the aisle arm of each seat. Badger had his up and I noticed something weird. He wasn’t studying the vocabulary words. He had the front side of the papers up and was rereading the fortunes with a furrowed brow. “Badger?”

  He was startled and jumped. A couple of the papers floated to the floor and he bent to pick them up. “Hi, Helena.”

  “You missed the show. Backwash and Harelip just joined the Mile High Club.”

  I was expecting him to say something clever. He usually had a quip for almost anything ready to go. Maybe what a hairy situation or were they feline frisky? Instead, he searched frantically through the slips and pulled one out, read it quickly, then handed it to me.

  Love is in the air. One of the shortest fortunes I’ve ever seen.
I wasn’t sure love was exactly the right word for what had just happened, but it still seemed apropos.

  Badger’s eyes were somewhat frantic.

  I sighed. “Oh don’t tell me. You think the fortunes are coming true.” Before it was Nitro, at the Farmer’s Market, now Badger. How gullible were these people? I looked at the pile of papers and it was larger than I remembered, and I didn’t recall seeing that fortune before. “Where did you get all these?”

  He held up a plastic baggie with bits of broken cookie in it. “I commandeered the rest of the box.” Reaching in the bag, he pulled out a piece and popped it in his mouth. “Want some?” I shook my head. “I wanted the vocabulary, but of course I started to read them. Helena, this is so weird I’m hearing the theme from the Twilight Zone in my head.”

  I sat on the arm of the seat, careful not to put my whole weight on it. “Come on, Badger. Those things are deliberately vague. They don’t mean anything. Love is in the air. Please. That has more layers than my mother’s lasagna.”

  He pulled out another slip for me. Unfinished business never ends. I see. We’d left Ireland in the middle of a mission, which left unfinished business. “Well, duh. When it ends it isn’t unfinished business anymore,” I explained. “Got anything in there about the membership of Cheese Club, or finding a plane in a jungle?” He said nothing. “You’re just worried about what yours said, aren’t you. That worm thing.”

  “The early bird gets the worm, but the early worm gets eaten,” he pulled from memory.

  I stood up again. “There you go. You are in full control of that. Don’t eat any worms. Just say no. Besides, a lot of these things aren’t literal.” I thought for a minute. Anything to get this fortune thing out of Badger’s head. “Maybe you already ate the worm. Maybe it means the rice vermicelli that was in the spring rolls. Or maybe it’s just a warning that you are going to oversleep one day soon.”