Lloyd kept his arms
folded behind his back, and stared absentmindedly at a drifting cloud. “So, Miss Walters, are you feeling better
yet?” he asked.
The sound of gagging
and puking gave a quick answer.
“W-well then, take your
time. That was quite the
experience.” He couldn’t help but
grin. “Did you see it? Did you see it when I stopped the truck? Well, granted it wasn’t so much as ‘stopped’
as it was ‘let the surrounding trees serve as a speed dampener until our
inertia faltered’, but still, we managed to come to a halt! Eventually!
And that’s certainly a victory in itself!”
Trixie started to
wheeze, and then made another meat-speckled splatter across the road.
Lloyd stroked his chin
and raised an eyebrow. “By chance, is
excessive vomiting a means of celebration in the south? It doesn’t seem like a very pleasant
tradition.”
Somehow, Trixie managed
to make her next wave of puke sound like the word “idiot”.
“This here is a real
mess.”
Lloyd turned to his
left; sure enough, Patton approached and stared at the wreckage with his
typical gaze. “That’s a shame. Now how’s anyone supposed to play Frisbee
without staring at that eyesore?”
“You escaped from the
truck?” Lloyd asked.
Patton looked down at
his son and nodded. “I told you, I had a
really bad itch. So I just broke free
and scratched it myself. Not too manly
to have a lady do a man’s job.”
“Fair enough,” Lloyd
said with a nod. He turned back to the
rig. “Do you suppose the driver is all
right? That was a nasty spill.”
“If he is, he’s not
about to be.” Patton popped his knuckles and started marching toward the rig.
“Just hold on a
minute! I think we may be able to use
this to our advantage!” Lloyd leapt in
front of his father. “This has certainly
been an eventful day, but we know very little about its particulars. This may be just the opportunity we need to
mount our counterattack.”
Patton growled a bit,
but managed to calm down. “You have
something in mind?”
“I feel as if something
is amiss here.” He covered his
mouth. “Our enemies at the moment are
Gaston Leroux and his cohort, Mrs. Overdose.
You would think that with the powers and skills at their command -- and
the leverage they’ve gained by kidnapping JP -- they’d have everything they
needed to have us bow to their will. And
yet…”
“You think this rig
business has something to do with Gaston?”
“It goes a bit beyond
that, I think.” Lloyd pointed at the
armored truck; it waited patiently for a driver a few hundred yards away (while
lodged inside a tree), and the remnants of Patton’s shackles left a trail
towards it. “That was quite a display
they put on at the square. I know that
the town has certain countermeasures to deal with you, but they certainly mobilized
quickly, don’t you think?”
“Maybe so.”
“And there’s more. Rosco and his partners were able to mobilize
on that front as needed -- with all the equipment they could ever hope
for. This is in spite of Rosco being --
to my knowledge -- a construction worker handling a few specific jobs.” He furrowed his brow. “He’s certainly appearing an uncomfortable
number of times in my life.”
Patton nodded
slowly. “So it’s not just Gaston that we
have to worry about. He may have plenty
of powerful allies on his side.” He
glanced briefly at the rig. “Hold
on. If that armored truck was supposed
to be handled by Rosco and his goons, why’d that rig try to run us over?”
“Good question. It’s possible that Rosco or one of his
friends made a call, and when the transport went awry the rig was sent to
handle the situation. But to go to such
extreme lengths…and to think of the collateral damage…”
“That masked bastard
isn’t just messing with us -- he’s putting the whole town in danger.”
“So it would seem. And if we’re to defeat him, we’d best make
use of whatever opportunity we can find -- starting with this one.” With a quick nod to one another, the
Hoigleheimers started for the rig -- with the son hoping that it wouldn’t
explode, and the father secretly hoping it would come to blows.
Patton didn’t even
bother waiting for Lloyd’s instruction.
He just climbed up the rig’s tractor and tugged the door wide open --
notably, because he tore it from the rest of the machine. He tossed the door aside and reached in, and
leapt back down with a man tucked under his arm. “He’s out, but at least he’s still
breathing,” he declared. He tossed the
man to the ground, who splayed his limbs wide on contact with the upturned
earth. “Doesn’t look like he’s too
hurt. But I can fix that, if you want.”
“No, no, he’s suffered
enough.” Lloyd tilted his head left and
right, back and forth, humming to himself as he made his inspection. Nothing about him seemed to stand out -- brown
hair and average height and build, with a blue cap and matching jumpsuit. He seemed more like an extra than anyone of
note. But then, suddenly…
“Aha! I’ve got it!” Lloyd yelled.
“What is it?”
“I have NO IDEA who
this is!”
Patton scratched his
crown. “Guess we got no choice,
then.” He knelt down and patted a meaty
hand against the man’s jumpsuit. “Search
him. Maybe he’s got some ID on him, or a
clue.”
Lloyd started sliding
his hands across the man as well, finding nothing but dirty, wrinkled clothes and
heated skin. “Oooohoohoo, I feel just like
a secret agent!” he cheered. “Searching
for clues amidst a downed enemy…ah! Does
this mean I’ll get to sneak into a secret facility while wearing his clothes?!”
“Maybe for your
birthday, son.”
Lloyd let loose a
girlish squeal.
“Never do that again.”
“I can’t make any
promises!”
Patton sighed and
tugged the man up by his armpits.
“Nothing in the front, I guess.
Better check the back to make…hmmm?”
He leaned forward a bit. “Wait a
second.”
“What is it?”
“His jumpsuit has a tag
on it.”
“With washing
instructions, I hope -- clearly, this man’s uniform is in need of it. But what has your attention?”
Patton pulled the tag
off and let the man drop back down.
“I’ve seen this design before,” he said as he showed the tag to Lloyd --
one with washing instructions, but more importantly with a diamond-bearing
crest woven into it. “This is the emblem
for the Cornerstone Corporation.”
Lloyd took hold of the
tag and inspected it, stroking his chin all the while. “So the jumpsuit is machine washable…” he
muttered.
“Lloyd, the Cornerstone
Corporation is one of the biggest companies in the world. They’ve got a choke hold on lots of big
products. Electronics, cars, planes, medicine…you
name it, they’ve probably got a hand in it.
A company that big wouldn’t have any problem hiring goons or setting up
a stunt like this.”
“Ah, yes, that’s
true. But the question is…”
“What does a company
like that want with Gaston -- and why go after Porbeagle? And my son?”
Patton grimaced, and stomped past Lloyd.
“Well, I’m about to find out. I’m
goin’ to their headquarters, right now.”
“B-but wait! What about JP?”
“They’ve got him. They have to -- it’s the safest place Gaston
could keep him, since they’re in cahoots.
So I’m gonna storm their building and take my son back, one way or
another.”
“No, wait!” Lloyd slid in front of his father once
more. “Listen to me. I know we may have made a breakthrough here,
but JP won’t be at their headquarters.
Neither will Gaston.” He pressed
his hands against his father’s torso, trying (and failing) to stop his
march. “It’s all just a ruse; if you go
to their headquarters, you may very well fall right into Gaston’s trap. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted you to
go down there, raise a storm, and be arrested because of it.”
Patton started to slow
down -- not stop, but at least his steps didn’t shove Lloyd’s feet deeper into
the ground. “And what if he is there?”
“If he is, then we’ll
make a trek to their headquarters -- AFTER we head to my destination. If my deductions are correct, Gaston may have
revealed his hand far earlier and more thoroughly than he would have
hoped.” He looked up at the sun. “Rather than risk losing JP and our mortal
foe, we may be able to have our kin back well before sunset.”
Patton’s brow twitched,
and his arm muscles tightened -- but after a moment of tension, he stopped his
advance and relaxed. “It’d take a long
time to reach their building anyway,” he admitted.
“Then you’ve no
objections to my plan?”
“You have a plan?”
“Figuratively speaking,
of course. And by figuratively speaking,
I mean no.”
Patton clapped a hand
against Lloyd’s shoulder. “Well, if you’re a real man, you’ll make a plan on
the fly.” He gave a brisk nod, and
started walking toward the truck. “So,
where are we headed?”
“Wait. There’s one more matter we need to
discuss.” Lloyd looked at his father,
and then to the distance -- to the point where Trixie stood, rubbing her
stomach and moaning. “I can count on you
to handle any situation that arises, yes?”
“Who the hell do you
think you’re talking to? I’m your dad --
I’ve got your back.”
“Yes, of course. But there’s a strong chance that what may
transpire is more than a little…unsavory.” He folded his arms and watched as Trixie bent
over, gagging and sputtering. “I only
hope that on this occasion, I’m actually very, very wrong.”
Of course, Patton
didn’t pick up on that last line. He’d
chosen to punt the downed driver like a football.
TO BE HEARTINUED…
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