Chapter Twenty Eight is Outta Sight!

Friday, June Seventeenth, a little after dinner, Walli-Wo island time

In King Lemmy’s storm shelter, it was impossible to tell that there was a storm raging outside.  It was quiet and comfortable.  The only clue to what was still going on outside was a weather data display near the main entrance to the storm shelter. 

Alex had found it earlier in the afternoon while playing a spirited game of hide and grab-ass with Lulu.  Since then, he’d found himself compelled to go and check on the state of the weather fairly frequently.

He had a few reasons for wanting the storm to end.  One was that he was currently in a bunker with King Lemmy’s daughter, who had wicked plans that Alex would probably have found completely delightful except for the whole “King Lemmy’s daughter” part.  Another reason was that he wanted to get back to work on finding the statue King Lemmy called his great great grandfather.  The final big reason was because he was stuck inside with precious little to do and he was already getting extremely bored.

At the moment, the wind was gusting up to seventy miles and hour, and the precipitation gauge was climbing at what seemed like an incredible rate to Alex.  On the upside, it was a comfortable seventy degrees outside at the moment.  High humidity, though.

He wandered back to the bedroom he would be sharing with Bruce. 

Bruce was laying on his bed, reading a Harlequin romance called “Hot Island Summer.”  The cover had a shirtless man wearing a cowboy hat, blue jeans, and a lei, passionately clutching a long haired woman whose hair was blowing in the wind.

“I didn’t know you were a fan of romance novels,” Alex said.

Bruce looked up at him, and said, “It was this or a stack of Reader’s Digest from ten years ago.  It’s not terrible.  Esmerelda seems like a hot little number, too.”

“OK, well, desperate times and so on.  How long do you think this storm is going to last?” Alex said.

“Getting a little itchy to be out of here, Mr. Minor?” Bruce said, with a grin.

“Yes,” Alex said.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re going to be in here overnight.  Maybe longer.  I’d suggest that you settle in and get comfortable.  Being all antsy won’t make the storm pass any more quickly,” Bruce said.  “There are a couple more of these novels hiding in the closet over there.  “Pacific Heat” and “Palm Trees and Persephone” both seem pretty promising.”

“Wasn’t Persephone Greek?  Why would she be anywhere near Palm Trees?” Alex said.

“Sounds like someone needs to press their ‘I Believe’ button a little harder,” Bruce said.  “Anyway, the setting won’t matter much once Lance or Rod or Studs McMuffin shows up and makes with the bodice-ripping.”

After a pause, Alex said, “I’m getting to know a whole new side of you, Bruce.”

“I’m a pilot of small airplanes.  I spend a lot of time waiting for crappy weather to pass.  After the third day of sitting in the pilot’s lounge at some airport in the middle of nowhere, the worst book ever written can seem like one of the great classics,” Bruce said.  “Also, seriously, the sex scenes in these books are every bit as nasty as any of the Forum letters, and way better written.”

“If you were wondering what that bump was,” Alex said, “It was you running over the line dividing ‘things I want to know about Bruce’ and ‘Bruce’s taste in erotic fiction’ without even slowing down.  Please stop.”

“Whatever.  Be bored,” Bruce said.  “It just leaves more for me to read while we’re down here, Mr. Minor.”

“You know, I could swear that you were just telling me about your naughty reading habits, and now you’re calling me Mr. Minor?  Is there some guide to appropriate behavior that I have apparently missed?” Alex said.

Bruce didn’t answer, he just turned the page and continued reading.

Alex sighed, and went to look at the weather display again.  The weather was about the same as it had been the last time he’d looked.  The rain accumulation had increased, otherwise the wind, temperature and humidity were all about the same as they had been.  He didn’t know much about what barometric pressure had to do with the weather, but the readout indicated that it was dropping.

He wandered around the shelter a bit, pacing more than anything.  King Lemmy seemed to have retired for the night.  He heard Lulu somewhere in the shelter, occasionally giggling, but she hadn’t popped out to flirt with him, and it seemed like her voice kept coming from the same general area.  Alex wondered if she was in her own room reading romance novels as well.

That seems like a perfectly good thing for her to be doing, at least as long as it doesn’t get her all riled up and inspired to come hop into my bed again, Alex thought.

He found the stack of vintage Reader’s Digest magazines that Bruce had mentioned, and took a handful of them back to the room he was sharing with Bruce.

Bruce was still exactly where he had been earlier.  Alex propped himself up on his own bed with a stack of pillows, and settled in for some word power expanding and important learning about what secret ingredient in Wheaties was corrupting our youth.

Some time later, Alex heard Bruce snoring.  He glanced at his own watch and figured that it was as good of a time as any to just go to bed. 

Alex walked over to the door, shut it and locked it, then climbed into bed and turned off the lights (he liked the remote control for the lights).  Minutes later, he was drifting off to sleep.

He realized he was falling asleep when his thoughts were no longer entirely coherent.  He was pretty sure that in the real world, the King of Norway had very little to do with the price of Kiwi fruit.  His thoughts became less and less rational, and before long he was dreaming.

His dream was strange because, for one thing, he was completely aware that he was dreaming.

Another thing that was strange was that he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in King Lemmy’s courtyard.  And one more strange thing was that one of the assorted statues that King Lemmy claimed contained the spirits of his ancestors, asked him if he was comfortable.

The storm was still raging, and the wind and rain were whipping around the courtyard, blowing the plants around and stirring up dust and sticks and things.

Despite that, Alex realized that he was, in fact completely comfortable.  Probably the most comfortable he’d been in quite a while, really.

“Yes, I am, thank you,” Alex said.

“You are the one King Lemmy has chosen to marry his daughter, and become the next King of Walli-Wo?” the same statue asked.  Alex was pretty sure it was one of the well-worn statues close to the center of the group.

“Well, yes, I guess I am,” Alex said.  “I don’t think I’m the right man for the job, though.”

“Hmm.  Your humility suggests that you are exactly the right man for the job,” the statue said. 

Alex was surprised to hear a murmur of agreement from the other statues.

This is pretty wild, Alex thought.

“We do not understand what you mean by wild,” the statue said.

“Um, sorry.  I, uh, I’m just surprised to be talking to you.  All of you,” Alex said.

There was silence from the statues.

“Anyway, the reason I don’t think I would be the right person to be King is that I don’t think I could stay on Walli-Wo for the rest of my life.  Please don’t get me wrong, Walli-Wo is fantastic.  I just have a very short attention span.  I would probably cause all kinds of unintentional chaos, just because I needed the excitement.”

“And once again, your knowledge of your own weaknesses suggest that you would make an excellent king,” the statue said.  There were more sounds of approval and agreement.

“Um,” Alex said.  “Thank you.”

“All the same, the choice to stay is ultimately yours to make.  Although we agree with King Lemmy’s choice, we also know that you must do what you feel is right,” the statue said.

Another one of the statues cleared its throat, or at least made a throat clearing noise, and said, “This is not why we called him here.”

There was a moment’s silence.

Alex said, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes,” the first statue said.  “One of us has been taken from here, and we wish to help you bring him back to us.”

“Well, I want to bring him back too.  Any idea where he is at the moment?” Alex said.

Alex wasn’t sure, but he thought that he heard one of them stifling laughter.

“Yes, he’s stuck in a tree on the west side of the island,” the statue said.

“Stuck in a tree?” Alex said.

“Yes.”

“How did he get into a tree?” Alex said.

“He was put there to hide him from you and King Lemmy.  After fighting off the intruder who came into the house, he was too tired to come back inside, and the intruder then kidnapped him,” the statue said.

“Whoa, so he was the one who blew out the doors?” Alex said.

“Of course,” the statue said.

“Cool,” Alex said.  “OK, well, I’m happy to go get him out of the tree he’s caught in.  Do you know who took him?”

“Yes,” the statue said.  “It was the one called Harry.”

“Harry?” Alex said.

“Yes.”

“Why would Harry do that?” Alex said.

“Because he overheard King Lemmy when he told you that he wished for you to marry his daughter and become king,” one of the other statues said.

“OK, but why steal, uh, kidnap King Lemmy’s great great grandfather?” Alex said.

“So he could blame you for it and cause you to fall out of King Lemmy’s favor.  Then he could lead King Lemmy right to his great great grandfather, and claim that he’d found him, and then become King himself,” the first statue said.

“Harry wants to be King?” Alex said.

“Harry wants to be the president of the bank,” the statue said.

Another one of the statues said, “And probably to get into Princess Lulu’s pants.”

“Oh, yes, that too,” the first statue said.

“OK, sure, why not?” Alex said to himself.  “So the sailors had nothing to do with this?”

“No, they’re just a bunch of annoying assholes,” the statue said.  "We can't stand them."

…Come back tomorrow for the thrilling conclusion!