Have you ever been through an image of you're being in an apocalyptic travel with some zombies and this kinda think of and did you have an imagination or a dream that you're fighting your way through to find a cure out of it and make your own story...
"You know, a lot of bad things could happen if you go through with this."
"I know."
"Are you sure the information you've received is correct?"
"Yes."
Silence.
"Well, then go."
He looks up, astonished. "Wait...you're giving me permission to go?"
"That's what it sounds like to me."
"You mean, I'll be able to come back, if I leave."
"If what you're telling me is true, than yes, you'll be welcomed back."
He cannot speak anything. The outcome is too much what he had hoped for...almost too much. "Wait," he says. "If I'm right, if everything we've been told is indeed true, what will you do about it when I return?"
"My boy, don't you mean, if you return?" the older man laughs, the wrinkles around his eyes from days squinting in the sun noticeable most like this. "I hope you have a plan."
"My brother."
The man laughs again, harder this time. "And you think you could possibly get him to cooperate?"
Now it's the boy's turn to smile. "Oh, I'll make him."
It isn't until he leaves that he realizes, the man never even answered his question.
***
"I'm sorry but we cannot make an exception to your case."
"He's my brother."
"I know, Mr. Hale."
"When can I see him?"
"I can page him a message, but don't count on his replying anytime soon. He's a very busy man." The woman glances down at the device in her hand and then holds it up to his face. "There. Now you'll just have to wait."
The boy takes a seat in one of the waiting chairs, uncomfortably plush, and sighs. He doesn't mind the waiting; he just can't stand these people. He grips the old sun hat in his hands and wrings it back and forth, trying not to stare at the numerous amounts of people in suits walking back and forth across his path. Him in his tattered jeans, black t-shirt and mud crusted boots...just being there felt like some sort of conspiracy.
After nearly three hours of sitting there - which isn't an awfully long time in the world these people inhabit - Mr. Hale watches as the woman at the desk gets up and leaves, walking to the elevator and going down to who knows which floor below.
When he's sure she's gone for awhile, the boy stands up and walks down the hall, twisting his way until he comes to a room filled with numerous boxes made entirely of one-way mirrors. He doesn't have to wander around looking for the right one; he knows exactly which he's come for. Going to one in the far corner, the boy knocks on the glass and waves, even though he can only see his reflection.
A moment later there's a clicking sound and a small door opens from the side. Around the corner a head pops out with smile and when it falls on him, a harsh frown replaces it quickly.
"What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk," Mr. Hale replies.
"Do we? I didn't see you on my waiting list. Did you make an appointment with Sharon at the desk?"
"Oh shut up, Fisher. You don't have a waiting list. The people you associate with don't come to you, you go to them. If you had someone important to talk to, you'd be gone right now."
"My little brother always was a show-off with his brain skills, wasn't he? I remember you now," Fisher says with a smirk. "Since you are so perceptive in noticing I don't have anything to do at the moment, I suppose you can come in." He opens the door farther and lets his brother make his way into the roomy office space.
"Well, Waifter," Fisher sighs, depositing himself back in the leather swivel chair in front of his desk. "How did you manage to get yourself all the way here without a proper passport, hm? I'd sure like to know that since it is my job to avoid it! Really, you're a disgrace showing up here like this, unannounced."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Waifter bows dramatically. "I didn't realize I was at Buckingham palace, your majesty."
"Close enough."
The two stare at each other until Fisher breaks the silence and asks, "What do you want?"
"Help."
"Ha! Well then you can just take you and your dirty hands somewhere else, 'cause you ain't gonnar git it from me." Fisher laughs and leans back in his chair, hands folded across his stomach as if to say the conversation has come to an end.
But it has not.
Waifter clears his throat with a cough. "We don't talk like that, you know."
"What?"
"We don't say 'ain't' and 'git' and 'cause'. And we do not pronounce unneeded r's. We're around the likes of you to much to talk like hicks."
Fisher winces. "I'm rather tired of your smart-aleck mouth."
"Then listen to what I really have to say and I'll stop."
Another few minutes of a stare down goes on before Fisher finally growls and says, "Fine, but make it quick."
Waifter smiles. "Alright. Now, I'd like to take you up on that passport."
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Well, that's all for it for today's chapter story and I hope you guys all like it... and if you did, don't forget to smash that Vote Button at the top right corner right there. Leave some comments down below and let me see of what you think about the story and also this chapter... but, thank you all guys for reading and as always what I said, oh bye there...
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