[Herr D]

Chapter 5: The Away Team

Jennifer had barely downloaded her text files when Shelley came bursting out of the stairwell, snapping shut her compact.
“Do you need an excuse to have guests? Should one of us be a relative?” She said breathlessly.
“Not enough hands,” said Jennifer, looking up to see Young Mike emerging from Mr. Crowe’s office. ALREADY?! If you were carrying my dessert from the refrigerator, and I was carrying the laptop–” She held down the power button and pulled it onto her lap. “Well–other way around.”
Shelley pulled out a keychain, waved it in the air, and put it beside the laptop. “Perfect,” she said. She dashed for the breakroom and wasn’t quite back when Young Mike practically blurred around Jennifer, grabbed her chair, and started for the freight elevator.
I’m gonna have to know stuff more often! This is cool!
It was halfway to being a circus act how Young Mike and Shelley wheeled Jennifer right off the end of the loading dock into the van without the ramp, trusting her to hold the laptop, Shelley taking things from Jennifer’s lap to the one rear seat while Young Mike strapped the office chair to an equipment locker and trotted around to start the van. It was surprisingly easy to half-swing from the rope handles hanging from the roof up to the front but a clumsy business for Jennifer to pull her legs around to the front seat, buckle in despite her wrist canes, and take the laptop and pillow on her lap while Young Mike drove out of the lot. Jennifer stared at Mike while he used his left hand to steer, signal, and sip from a water bottle while he used his right to shift, rummage through a basket of various cables, and feel the ends without looking until he said, “Ha – HA!” He plugged one end into the cigarette lighter and handed the other to Jennifer, who, unable to keep from smiling and shaking her head, plugged it into the laptop and began editing. Lunch traffic was ending by the time they reached Washington Street, and that’s when Shelley stopped stressing with her makeup and reached forward, stuffing rubber-banded bundles of mousepads between the laptop and the glove compartment above Jennifer’s knees. Ohhh. “Want one under your mouse elbow?”
“Yes, thanks.” Ironically, this is probably the easiest rewrite I’ve had in awhile. Imply, suggest, give a great fact, repeat.
“Why are you typing?” said Young Mike, “I thought all you did was graphics.”
Um, oops. “Have you SEEN Shelley’s typing? I edit just about everything we produce.”
“Ah.” Well, if you’ll buy it, I guess it’ll do.
“Why are you called ‘Young Mike?'” Hmmp. Nice smile.
“Mike Clarend has seniority. My name is Mike Claren with no ‘d,’ and both of us have the same middle name. I was ‘Old Mike’ in my college group.”
“Was there another Mike Clarend there?”
“A Mike McClaren.”
Yikes.
Young Mike’s phone rang at that moment.

[Herr D]

Test Subject 002 for the Reoxygenation Method was found wandering the streets, muttering under breath. Clothing was unremovable, hair was impossible to dye over. Odd cracks in skin were unexplainable. Since the subject appeared to be dying of cellular breakdown of an unknown cause and nature at an unheard-of rate, The Project took the subject immediately. In the hypobaric chamber, the subject became violent and broke several thousand dollars worth of sensor equipment. The Reoxygenation Method not only saved the subject’s life, but began to produce symptoms of acclimation, as if the subject had been exposed to extremely unusual conditions for an extended period of time.

No explanation for the subject’s lack of a navel has been accepted by The Project’s panel of scientists . . .

[Herr D]

Thanks, guys. I’ve been ill and so am a bit later than planned getting back.
Here’s the next three.

[Herr D]

Tenna Is In Trouble. Her people use a sort of blowpipe that they pump up with a mouthpiece and a squeeze-bladder. The release valve supplies a powerful burst indeed. The condensation of their breath is collected as well to be used in the darts. After all, nothing is more toxic to their prey, the ‘Chukturs’ Beasts, than water. They make all their garments and most of their non-metal weapons from their blue fur and dried green guts. The cliff lizard after her has a pretty good chance against her since she is off-balance and hasn’t drawn one of her knives yet.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/b396116d-a330-4533-be6d-420335772c69_zps1e96c25e.jpg

All of her garment, her weapon-mounting straps, and her belly sheath were made from the same shape from Glove-Right.
text right below:

I don’t think I’ve fully fixed the problem with the view–can’t get the left foot visible without the background fail visible . . . but I got the text in.

[Herr D]

Discovered on it’s way to Earth. No one knows where it came from, but the staticky recording of an old song and the transliteration of the audible snippets made translation a snap. The note with it translates to:

Maurice, lovey-dovey Space Cowboy, people here talk about you with pompatous. We show you not our peaches. Oo-ee sinner love you right right right at home. Don’t shake me [sic] trees. People here want to hurt no one.
–Baby.

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-GiftFromAfar_zpsd832f947.png

[Herr D]

Awh, man! You DID have to guess? I need to study obviosity. Obviousness? Obviance? Oh-Be-Very-‘It’s-Obvious-U-See?’
Yeesh. This is a perfect example. The answer about the ‘state of being obvious’ is probably too obvious for me to think of.

–MYRO! You just won that hand of Blackjack at Herr D’s casino. [pushes grayed sour-cream-and-onion-chip across table]
Your chip, sir. Wish to cash out?

[Herr D]

Thank you, thank you. . . . uh? We aren’t just limited to choosing a piece of cloth for this next one, are we?

[Herr D]

[continuation of Chapter 4]

Jennifer stared at the pictures for a few moments. That’s so weird how they look familiar. Maybe I’ve seen too many hazy ‘pictures’ of Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster. What’s YM? She frowned. The next several pages had been torn out. Shelley did at least summarize it and go to the trouble of organizing it and rewriting it once.

April 26th – May 9th

Fifty-three instances attributed, six seen by credible witnesses, twelve with physical evidence linkages over fourteen days.
Seven doors and four windows jammed shut with shredded trash. Chinatown. 2pm to 10pm.
Three Chinatown alleys had trashcans flattened and gouged into brick walls, preventing pickup. 5am-7am.
Garbage truck had exhaust pipe crimped, stalling it and making restarting impossible before maintenance. Twice! Thursday at 5:25am precisely. Corner of Washington and Main.
Nine stereos, two t.v.s, four radio alarm clocks have been smashed along with the windows closest to them, unless they were open. Chinatown, sunrise to 7:30am.
Two vehicles known to backfire were completely disassembled, parts scattered in trashcans, in mailboxes, and on rooftops. Possessions from inside the vehicles were neatly stacked, in both instances, under tarped construction areas nearby, preventing rain damage. This was done silently.
Nine small dogs and six cats have been found dead. Most were flattened against walls out of reach of anyone without a ladder. Two of them seem to have died of smoke inhalation where there was no smoke.
Three doors have been found removed from their hinges at random locations blocks away in hard-to-reach places.
Two bells have been removed from shopkeeper’s doors when they were staying open late for specific customers. The bells were flattened before their eyes, “carefully, so as not to damage merchandise.”
–Motive in all cases, based on testimony, was to ensure quiet.

Jennifer stared at the pages. Is THAT why Brandon’s been leaving his mutt in the hall? To keep him . . . alive? It never barks in the hall, just happily wags it’s tail, sleeps half-on-half-off his welcome mat and– Wait. It was all the way off the mat this morning. It never sleeps off the mat. buhBUMPbuhBUMPbuhBUMP–hollow hammering? Ugly gray smoke like car exhaust covering–writhing matted spikes? wind in underbrush?
–WHAT IS THAT SMELL?– Jennifer recoiled slightly. She felt hot all over.
Shelley sat down next to her, snapping her back to the present. “Are you okay?”
Young Mike glanced up, “You look pale.”
Jennifer opened her mouth. She closed her mouth. Um, yeah. I’ll just tell everyone I’m a psychic, and I know that the whatsit killed my neighbor’s dog. Yeah. Go ahead. Commit me, PLEASE? “I just realized my neighbor’s dog might be dead too. It was sleeping in the middle of the hallway this morning. I had to turn sideways to get around it.”
“I’m sorry, Jen,” Shelley said. You’re just worried I won’t finish your work.
Young Mike glanced at her wrist canes. “Is it difficult to go sideways with those things?”
“It’s more like it’s hard not to fall without going really slow. It’s a narrow hallway.”
Shelley began to speak and then stopped, frowned. She pulled a notebook page out of a pocket. “Is one of these addresses your building?”
“Yes. Why?”
Shelley frowned, “No one in those two buildings will talk to us. If you could verify the dog is dead, that would be EVERY BUILDING BUT ONE in Chinatown. Is there any part of your work you couldn’t take with you?”
Yikes! “You mean, you’d drive me home after work?”
Shelley blinked, “No, I mean, I’d take you home now–would you LIKE a ride home after work? I can compensate informants.” She smiled. Wow. Honesty. Keepin’ it real with your mercenary self.
What would I need? “My laptop won’t hold a charge.”
Young Mike grinned. “I got an adaptor. Po’s custom work. You’re riding shotgun–the cord won’t reach the back of the van. Shelley? Get me an office chair.”
Shelley looked at him funny but trotted right out to get the rolling office chair. Young Mike snatched up Jennifer’s wrist canes, handed them to her, lifted her up–WHOA THERE! placed her in the office chair as it arrived, handed her everything off the table including his own Tupperware container, and rolled her right out of a lunchroom full of raised eyebrows. Not even out of breath, Young Mike parked her at her desk. You’re a LOT stronger than YOU look, Tarzan!
“I’m gonna take my meeting early and get back here quick. Be ready.”
Jennifer turned to object and saw him halfway across the building. Maybe I should’ve spoken sooner? %$^&!
Shelley came puffing up to Jennifer. “Do you need me to carry anything?”
“Um? This laptop is a heavy model. Do you have a case?” Is he ALWAYS this fast? I never see him, and you’re acting like this is normal.
Shelley trotted to a drawer and pulled out a box full of mouse pads, a large ziploc full of bungee cords, and two round flat pillows.
She plopped the smaller one right on Jennifer’s lap, startling her in the middle of choosing a download. Those look like dog pillows. “Be ready to power down the instant he comes out.” Shelley pointed at Mr. Crowe’s office, where Nguyen was already buzzing Young Mike in. Shelley grabbed the box of mouse pads, the ziploc, the other pillow, and Jennifer’s wrist canes, HEY? and ran straight for the open freight elevator. I guess I’m going, then. She shook her head, and packaged everything up as best she could.

[Herr D]

. . . It occurs to me that I don’t know whether these are obvious enough. I submitted them to the cards contest, but I’ve no idea whether anyone even understood them. Does anyone know what these four cards are?

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-cards_zps065968c8.png

I realize no one is supposed to wonder about that sort of thing . . . Specifically, the top hand is a bad hand and the bottom hand is great. Feel free to PM me if you’re three blocks later responding.

[Herr D]

I have given up on trying to find a better pic of the neck bunch. So, how about a ‘self-custom’ or blank mask? An oval shape with no features, two holes, two little knots, and the mask string disappearing around the edges? I get the idea that Groucho glasses are copyrighted just like my only other idea — the inventor’s headgear from Honey, I Shrunk The Kids. At least a blank mask is extremely versatile.

[Herr D]

@Moognation said:

Thanks for the shout out!

You’re certainly welcome. ‘Playbeing’ is unfortunately not willing to give me a finder’s fee. Oh well.

[Herr D]

[continuation of Chapter 4]

April 12th: Ng Building Fire. Police and emergency services have refused comment multiple times. 911 dispatched fire, local cops, ambulance to scene at 9pm. The entire top floor burned. Sources in construction industry say elevator shafts and stairwells were boarded up at that level. No one has been seen dining on the roof patio and no lights have been seen shining from that level since. Footage from witness phone shows human-shaped figure floating outside, kicking in top-floor windows, darting in and out as fire starts. No one but witness will comment about what was seen. Pic #5. Follow-up with hospital has no patients likely logged in from fire. (No one seen being put in ambulance and no coroner’s wagon showed either. No patients? Refusal of treatment? Mr. Ng was wearing no bandages the next day and did not sound hoarse during speech. Same for known associates.) No comment from known insurers of Ng property. YM managed to enhance one good still.

Jennifer shook her head. Mr. Ng is well-hated. Everyone knows that. His business deals prevented that other clinic from being built . . . but we don’t know anything about what happened? She rubbed her temples. I hope I’m not getting a headache. She read on.

April 25th: Three different security cameras captured images of hazy figure gesturing violently at windows of the home of David Crowe. The figure did not seem to touch the windows, but the windows were breaking. Vandalism occurred between 9:15-9:30pm. A downed power line caused enough damage / confusion that the time could not be ascertained closer. No one was home and no one heard what was happening. Damages were over ten thousand dollars. Claims have been filed. There is a one thousand dollar reward still being offered for information positively identifying the responsible party or parties by Mr. Simon Crowe at Backington Productions. YM managed to enhance one good still.

Jennifer smiled. She gave me a birthday present, whoever she was. It doesn’t make up for Davy-boy cutting my schedule down that week, but it helped. She closed her eyes. What would it have been like, to have been there to watch? Mmmmh. Loud moaning sounds of gusting wind, cozy warmth almost too hot. CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! CRASH! Yikes! Did I just doze off? Jennifer glanced around. Young Mike was shaking his head at Tia’s entry, ‘Dixie Pixie,’ and Nathan was explaining to Po that he thought grainy pictures were cool-looking. Shelley looked up.
“Did you have a question?”
Nobody saw, thank the Lord. “I doubt it’s important, but how many windows at the Crowe home?”
“Sixteen.” Shelley shrugged. “I think he got a deal on having them replaced.”
Jennifer nodded. I’ve never been there. I must have heard them talking before. How ELSE would I know there were sixteen?

Pic #5

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/Zephyr/HerrD-ZephyrAtNgBldg_zpsfede0ac1.png
[**editor’s note: one more picture coming for this block.]

[Continued next block]

[Herr D]

Jerry is an artist. Skin is his canvas. He is great. His green mohawk seems to invite interesting customers as well. He gets to do fantastic, complex shapes on the most irregular surfaces . . .

http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-ASuddenDoubt_zps8ec612f1.jpg

. . . he might work on his memory, however, before the worst happens . . .

[Herr D]

Ever have to stop and check what you’re doing, not sure whether you’ve made a BAD mistake?
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-ASuddenDoubt_zps8ec612f1.jpg

[Herr D]

Congratulations to prs.

This perhaps looks oversimple. But in my experience, sometimes that is best.
http://i1067.photobucket.com/albums/u438/jamais5/2013hm/HerrD-ValDayCard_zpsf65fb0e2.png

[Author]

Posts