Gunther's Cavern by Edward Etzkorn

Author:Edward Etzkorn [Etzkorn, Edward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

INTERLUDE 5

Dicey felt as if she were a disembodied spirit cruising above this odd group of rescuers she had summoned. As if she were the Archangel of Light who with a strum of her lyre had brought about this confluence of Goodness to combat the forces of Darkness. Would that a strum of a lyre—or lute, or electric guitar could have done it. In reality, gathering together this many people on such short notice had required dozens upon dozens of phone calls and thousands and thousands of words, from jocular to syrupy-sincere to frank pleading.

Spike led the way up the hill, with Zeke motoring behind him, creating a road through the grass and producing a cloud of dust for the people who followed to breathe. Cal and Hallie followed behind him, doing a reasonable job of keeping up. They spoke little, their breath devoted toward extracting oxygen from the dust.

Next came Marge and Arthur, looking as if they were out for a Sunday jaunt along the lake. Dicey could barely notice Arthur’s limp as he climbed the hill.

Luisa, looking like a competitor in an Olympic running event, muscled her way between Jimmy and Lola. “So when are you going to come over to save me from the flies?” she asked Jimmy, without the slightest effort at breathing.

Jimmy choked, gasped, drew in a few breaths. “I … ah … Luisa …”

“Huh?” she persisted, bumping him on the shoulder and almost knocking him over. “I’ve had to seal my whole guest room off because the flies have taken over. Every day there are new ones, buzzing on the window pane, spinning in insane circles around the floor. I can’t even walk into the room without all these disgusting crunching sounds. What would I do if my mom or my sister decided to come visit and needed to stay in that room?”

Jimmy turned toward her, his eyes falling first on her face, then a foot lower. With an involuntary yip, he snapped his eyes back to the path ahead. “Luisa, I’m sorry—you know how busy I am.”

“I know, Jimmy. I know. Tell me again, just for the record. What is it you do?”

“Oh, you know …” He paused for breath. “I paint … I fix toilets … I chop weeds … I clear sink drains. I quote Plato to old ladies.”

“So if I was to happen to walk by your house at, say, eleven in the morning, I wouldn’t hear the TV on—right?”

“Only if Lola was home sick. I’d be out working.”

“Understandable. How about if I happened by at, say, 3 o’clock—assuming Lola was not sick. Which she usually isn’t. Would the TV be on then?”

“No way. I’d still be out working.”

“5:30 PM?”

“Working.”

“Rough life. 7:30?”

Jimmy hesitated. “I might be home taking a shower. Washing off the dirt and grime—you know. The TV might be on just so the house wouldn’t be so quiet.”

All at once, Luisa bubbled with enthusiasm. “Hey—you catch the Mets game yesterday? Dark-horse team—don’t ever count them out!”

At once, Jimmy smiled.

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