7:40 PM
"Hey, Terrence, pull over, I'm starving," Parker said, spying an approaching pie cart on the city sidewalk. It was a late evening vendor selling pasty's beneath a streetlight and he appeared busy. "How about you?"
Terrence nodded. He still wasn't completely over the wave of nausea that hit him after lunch. Nevertheless, his stomach's recent grumbling session overrode any remaining concerns regarding the terrible sensation, in fact, he considered it might be contributing to it. He agreed to Parker's request and pulled the car to the curb.
Parker looked over at the driver with his hands in the air. "Dammit, I'm out of money. You?"
"I might have enough." Terrence dipped a hand in a pants pocket and extracted a couple of his remaining coins. The two metal discs clinked together as he rolled them about in his palm. "Here, go on and get us a couple of those. They do smell good, actually."
Parker felt like a kid walking up to an ice cream truck with the money his parents gave him. If there was anything he loved beyond the scenery and the people of South Australia, minus the dark-eyed Negexis assholes, was the street food. He smiled at the vendor and raised a hand with his pointer and middle fingers in the air. "Two, please?"
The sullen man attending the pie cart nodded and presented the grinning Parker with a paper-wrapped pair of the stuffed pastries.
Terrence noted the street vendor looked over at him a bit strangely, but dismissed the event as paranoia.
"Here you go," Parker said, sliding in through the opening passenger door and handed one of the stuffed pies to Terrence.
"I'll eat mine when we get down toward the beach. "I need to make sure we don't miss her."
9:00 PM
"She said she'd be here, Parker. So, she'll be here."
"It's been over an hour, I don't think this 'friend of yours' will, show up," Parker air-quoted.
"I don't know, but something's not right. It just doesn't make sense; we seemed to be hitting it off, me and her, you know?"
After ditching Mrs. Childers' blue Ford a mile from where they now stood, the two men found themselves standing on the promenade overlooking Somerton Beach. Parker and Terrence hid in the shadows, nervously observing every face that passed. They leaned against a wooden railing, attempting to stay invisible. "I think we're on our own," Parker said, eying a man strolling down the sidewalk with a cigar in his mouth. He could smell the sweet aroma of the burning tobacco as the well-dressed, rather large gentleman passed.
"Uh oh, here we go again..."
"What?" Parker inquired.
"The damn nausea. It's worse than before. I hate cigars..."
"Let's walk down toward the beach. We can still watch for your friend to show up from there. Maybe the air will do you some good."
Terrence shook his head. "This is by design...I know it."
"Come on, Terrence, these Negexis can't be this thorough."
The Geniel agent leaned over, fighting back another wave of sickness. "Yes, they can. I imagine they have done this very same op a dozen times. Maybe not in this exact way, but if they'd encountered enough Multiverses with similar timelines..."
"Then, maybe it's not that impossible," Parker added.
"Trust me, I was poisoned, Parker. The guy that sold you that pasty in Glenelg from the pie cart, I bet he was a Negexis agent."
YOU ARE READING
Voynich Shift - Season One (COMPLETED)
Science FictionParker Raymond recently inherited his estranged grandfather's large plantation home in Savannah, Georgia. The Spanish Moss hanging from the estate's large oaks, its massive gardens, and a near endless bank account were, in the end, not what captured...
