Plasma Cat

Ch. 13: The Void

Estella pulled into the rest area.

What are you doing?

"I don't know if you know this," Estella began bitterly, "but us humans need to do this thing from time to time. It's called sleep. I think you're familiar with it. But I can't sleep, otherwise we will careen off the road and die. Or at least I will. So I need caffeine. Thus, I'm stopping to get some. Any other questions?"

The cat didn't reply.

As Estella pulled into the rest area, she noticed a beat-up van and a group of shabbily dressed people seemingly arguing amongst themselves around one of the picnic tables. A man and three women, one of whom was crying.

"Actually, I think it's time for prank number one," Estella told the cat. "What are the rules?"

Rules?

Estella was genuinely surprised. "What, no rules?"

I do not know what a prank is.

"Wait... so you just agreed even though... wow, you are desperate."

Estella told the cat what she wanted it to say. It didn't protest, even when it had to get into Estella's backpack.

As Estella walked to the vending machines, purposely walking as close as she could to the group, she heard that ethereal monotone ring out.

Everything is going to be OK. This is not the time to split apart. This is the time to come together.

The group whirled around and stared her down.

"What did you say?" York demanded.

"What?" Estella replied.

"Are you... is this..." York faltered and then turned back to face his group. They all looked visibly shaken.

"Are you guys drug addicts?" Estella asked. "Cause you're giving me drug addict vibes. No judgment, but I'm broke and know karate so don't get any ideas."

She got her drink and returned to her car. She was pleased to see that the group had stopped arguing and instead had turned their attention towards the woman who had been crying.

Why did you tell me to say that?

"Isn't it obvious?" Estella replied as she pulled out of the rest area. "They're a band. We got to help out musicians whenever we can. Otherwise, there won't be any new music in this world."

____^._.^____

To say that Wendell Bearradh was a difficult man to find would have been an understatement.

This was on purpose, of course. He guarded his cell number as if it were his social, and he had three different offices that he switched between randomly. He only did this for his personal privacy's sake, though. He never broke a law. He was a lawyer, after all. He knew the law inside and out.

He had nothing to hide. But he kept most of his client's information on quick-detach hard drives and kept a hammer in his desk. He also had a ludicrously advanced "Paper-shredder" that mixed the paper with water and then dumped the resulting sludge down into the sewers. For his client's security, of course. He, once again, had nothing to hide. He didn't even have unpaid parking tickets.

And so it had scared him silly when he suddenly heard his secretary tell him over the phone, "There are some U.S. Marshals here who would like to have a word with you."