GOODSON ACADEMY GATEHOUSE,
OCTOBER 25, 2009
(12:40 A.M./EST)
* * * * *
With the car being driven at top speed, sirens blaring and red-and-blues flashing, it should only have taken twenty minutes for Jo Blackburn and Toby Swofford to get from the riding school to the prep school. Twenty-five minutes, tops!
But, five minutes after turning on to Farmstead Road, there was a strange series of white flashes of light in the sky above their police car. Following which, it nearly overturned as they suddenly lost power to the engine...and everything else powered by its electrical system.
"What the frig is this?" shouted the middle-aged detective sergeant: "The frigging X-FILES?"
His young female partner was about to answer him, as she headed to the front of the car to examine the engine, when she suddenly hit an invisible barrier and ricocheted to the ground!
"Jo! You all right?"
She nodded as he helped her to her feet. Then, she reached out, with her right hand, and felt the air before her. Swofford imitated her, and felt it, too.
"Sarge? I think you'd better call for back-up."
"Good idea."
Unfortunately, his cellphone proved to be just as non-functioning as the police car's radio. And, so did Jo's.
"Look!" he told her: "I'm gonna double-back to the intersection with 202. I know there's a cross-country racing path just a little ways up from there. I'll use that to get to the school. You stay here with the car. If and when this strange interference lifts, you call for back-up. Then, meet me at the school's gatehouse."
"Roger, that! You want the shotgun?"
She pointed to the twelve-gauge Remington pump-action she had removed from the trunk of their car.
"Nah! You keep it with you. I'll stick to my trusty old Ruger convertible."
He showed her the Ruger Blackhawk that could alternate between .357 magnum and 9-mm speed-loading cylinders.
As the flashlight from the trunk proved just as non-functioning as the cellphones, Swofford had to use his cigarette lighter for illumination. He had quit smoking, ten years ago, following his wife's own death from cancer. But, he could not bear to part with the lighter, as it was the first birthday present he had gotten from her after they first became engaged!
Consequently, the feeble flickering of its flame guided him to the aforementioned pathway, forty-five minutes later. And, just as he had hoped, he was able to follow that path to the rear of the prep school. Not knowing, of course, that the Sacred Duel of Simbarra had been concluded by then.
He did, however, get to see a stark-naked giantess (whom he recognized as Sandy Bigelow) standing guard over a bunch of guys who looked like Hawaiian versions of Conan the Barbarian, with Afro-hairstyles. And, a minute later, he also got to see those same guys disappear behind a literal wall of flame!
That put him one up on Jo Blackburn, who only saw the one hundred foot-tall exhibitionist beyond the roof of the ruined gatehouse.
"Detective Sergeant Swofford, is it?" said Willek, as he was led forward by Lorraine: "Come! Let us reunite you with your partner. So, that we only have to explain things once."
* * * * *
TWO HOURS LATER
Swofford shook his head: "If it wasn't for the...three of them, I wouldn't believe a word of this."
He indicated Toray and the shrunken Vara and Wesley. Of the latter two, Vara was calmly perched on Martin's right shoulder. While a beaming Jo (who had been too concerned about Swofford to remember his orders about calling for back-up when the car re-started) kept an inescapable grip on the frantically-struggling Wesley.
"If you need further proof," offered Michael: "...I can tell you where to find the bodies of those three Osiri that were chasing Toray."
"That sounds like a good idea, Sarge," remarked Jo: "We could pass them off as fantasy role-players who over-celebrated at a Halloween party and got...tragically carried away, afterwards."
"Oh, really!" replied the seasoned veteran: "What about those students with the videophones Ms. Bigelow spotted? Huh? Half of them have probably uploaded her face all over Youtube, by now!"
"And, most of the people who google it will probably assume it to be a photo-manipulated collage or a sci-fi movie screen-capture."
"What about your little prisoner?"
Swofford pointed once more at Wesley. Jo's smile broadened into a grin.
"We'll tell his father the truth. Or, at least, the part concerning what Wesley intended to do with that shrinking formula! I'm sure we can get him to agree to letting us place Wes under...house arrest...in exchange for keeping quiet about that."
Swofford now grinned, as well: "I don't see anything wrong with that. But, as I live in an apartment, that house arrest will have to be at _your_ house!"
"You got a deal, Sarge!"
"Nooooooo!" screamed Wesley: "You can't do that! It's ilmmmmmmmmph!!"
Jo muffled any further protest by enveloping his whole head in her left hand.
Tbc
Giantess World
