The plane glided above the Pacific Ocean and into the horizon. Tessie thought back over everything that had transpired, looked over at the empty co-pilot seat, and cracked a faint smile before turning her attention back to whatever awaited them on the horizon. One thing was for certain: after this waltz with dinosaurs, undead peculiarities and death, a warm drink, a hot plate of food, and a hot bath wouldn’t go amiss. Tessie lifted her goggles from her face and rubbed the bridge of her nose, sighing with relief.
“Let’s get y’all home before we meet the rest of the pterodactyl family.”
DAYBREAK.
Tessie’s body was flooded with the familiar waking sensation of each of her limbs activating one by one, alerting her brain to the fact that they were all still present, functioning, and accounted for. Tessie’s hearing fizzed in, the sound of a bustling marketplace sidewinding its way through a nearby open window. She tested her motor skills, moving each of her legs and arms underneath the blankets before blinking her eyes and nuzzling against the pillow. Gradually rolling onto her back, she stared at the wooden beams holding up the ceiling, then eased her neck forward, so she could get a healthier look at her surroundings.
She didn’t appear to be in a hospital. No medicinal instruments or doctor’s clipboards to be found. The open window brought in the sounds of the street below, calling Tessie to come and take a look outside the building.
She moved her legs over to the edge of the bed, sitting upright and extending her arms into a luxurious stretch. Whoever’s apartment this is sure mus’ be payin’ a pretty penny fo’ it, Tessie speculated, looking around at the wood-panelled walls and expensive furniture as she reached for her socks. She slid them on and made her way to the window and stuck her head out.
“La Libertad,” she mumbled, reading the massive sign to her left; the town’s name, she guessed. Tessie closed her eyes again when the seaside winds began caressing her head, neck and face. It reminded her of the serenity of Azul Peak, before she sank into her now-infamous nap. The scenery was obviously less untamed, though… and thank God for that, Tessie mused as she watched the street below.
In the middle of a humming marketplace were schoolboys playing a ball game of some description, and various vendors canvassing potential patrons passing by their respective stalls. La Libertad was colourful today, in the colours of the fabric roofs of the stalls, the flowerbeds dotting the windowsills as far as the eye could see, the pageantry of the senoritas dancing along to the musicians busking outside of a local bar.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.” De Quincey’s dry tone was unmistakable.
Tessie sighed heavily before turning around to face the professor. “This part’s always so… so damn dull, y’know?”
De Quincey’s brow scrunched up with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean compared to fleein’ a jungle island, fightin’ for your life in th’ process, standing in an apartment in a place you only stoppin’ in for a night or two,” Tessie replied. She reached for her trousers and the rest of her clothes, moving them over to the bed to straighten them out one by one. “This just ain’t as excitin’. It sure is peaceful, tho’, I’ll give you that.” She moved to the door across from the bed and out to the bathroom. “I’spose it wouldn’t be much of an adventure if it didn’t have the borin’ bits too.”
The frown faded from De Quincey’s face, along with the rest of the tension in his body. He stared out of the window. The sound of running water could be heard coming from the bathroom. “I suppose you’re right, Tessie. But one is grateful for these moments of clarity.”
Tessie let that sentiment go unanswered as she tested the heat of the water in the bottom of the bathtub.
“So what happens now, professor? Is that clear to see?” she asked.
De Quincey walked across to the window and stared down. “Well, that’s what we’re about to discuss over a spot of breakfast. Lady Webster’s starting to feel a bit better and is getting ready, as it goes.”
Tessie poked her head through the door way. “Well, I’ll see you down there.”
Back still turned, De Quincey took a breath. “Tessie, I… I have never seen an airplane do that kind of manoeuvring before. Truly, we should’ve died back on that rock.”
Tessie straightened a bit more and slowly emerged from behind the door back into the bedroom.
“I daresay if it weren’t for you, we very well would have died back there,” he continued. “Because of your unorthodox methods, and… frankly immense skill, we’re all still here, if a bit battered and bruised.” A brief silence creeped in like a rolling fog.
Tessie continued to stare at the back of De Quincey’s head. “Shoot, professor… I was just doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Y’all brought me in to get y’all in and out of dangerous places.”
De Quincey laughed as he watched the ball game in the town square. “No need to be modest, Miss Caldwell.”
“So, what am I meant to be, professor?” Tessie asked as she turned back into the bathroom, cutting the water off, testing the temperature once more.
De Quincey looked over his should, noticing Tessie was no longer standing behind him. He turned and made his exit from Tessie’s room, but stopped at the doorway.
“Proud, presumably.”
“Oh, honey, I am. I’m very proud. But I also know that I’m not finished takin’ y’all places.”
De Quincey bowed his head and smiled. “No, dear Tessie. No, you aren’t.”
“You gon’ tell me where I’m taking y’all next or what, professor? You know I don’t like guessin’ games or beatin’ around the bush.”
De Quincy stepped back towards the bathroom door, looking at Tessie’s reflection in the mirror where she was inspecting her face and brushing her teeth.
“Have you ever been to Egypt, Miss Caldwell?”
About The Authors
Guy Adams is the author of the Heaven’s Gate trilogy—The Good, the Bad and the Infernal, Once Upon a Time in Hell, and For a Few Souls More—as well as many audio adventures for Big Finish’s Doctor Who range.
Joseph Guthrie is a self-professed jack-of-all-trades based in the capital of the United Kingdom (London, for the uninitiated). Joseph is a writer, photographer, musician (singer-songwriter, drummer, pianist, and produces on the very odd occasion) and IT professional, and a mature student at the University of Westminster computer games development (BSc Hons). When he’s not taking photos, you can safely assume he’s working on something as part of one of the aforementioned roles.
Jonathan L. Howard has worked as a scriptwriter and video game writer, including writing credits on the highly successful Broken Sword series of video games. His first novel, Johannes Cabal the Necromancer, was published in 2009.
Cassandra Khaw writes many things. Mostly these days, she writes horror and video games and occasional flirtations with chick-lit. Her work can be found in venues Clarkesworld, Fireside Fiction, Uncanny, Lightspeed, Nightmare, and more. A Song for Quiet was her latest novella from Tor, a piece of Lovecraftian Southern Gothic that she worries will confuse those who purchased Bearly a Lady, her frothy paranormal romantic comedy.
Patrick Lofgren holds an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College and is an enthusiastic graduate of Clarion West 2017. He lives and writes in New York with his partner, two ferrets, a hedgehog, and an axolotl.
Mimi Mondal is a Dalit woman who writes about politics and history, occasionally camouflaged as fiction. Her first anthology, Luminescent Threads: Connections to Octavia E. Butler, co-edited with Alexandra Pierce, was nominated for a Hugo Award, a Locus Award and a William Atheling Jr. Award, making Mimi the first Hugo Award nominee from India. Mimi holds three masters’ degrees for no reason but pure joy. She lives in New York, tweets from @Miminality, doesn’t very often update mimimondal.com, and always enjoys the company of monsters.
Tauriq Moosa is a contributor to the Guardian, Daily Beast and other publications. He focuses on ethics, justice, technology and pop culture.
His work has been referred to by The New York Times, the Washington Post, Forbes and other places. He once debated Desmond Tutu about God.
Gaie Sebold has written several novels, a number of short stories, and a slightly disturbing amount of poetry. Her novel include Babylon Steel, the sequel Dangerous Gifts, and Shanghai Sparrow and its sequel Sparrow Falling. She lives in leafy suburbia with writer David Gullen and a paranoid cat, runs writing workshops, grows vegetables, and cooks a pretty good borscht.
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