Out of the Black - Lee Doty [39]
"Bannon!" The captain shouted with the usual agitated melodrama. He then gave Ping the stare of a man who had laid out a clear question and now awaited a well-reasoned response.
After a few seconds of silence, Ping tried to move the stalled conversation along. "Er... Captain?" Ping asked with his waiting-for-the-punchline tone.
"Ten minutes!" The captain raised a stern finger between them, giving Ping the full angry-captain-nostril-flare experience.
"Slightly too terse." Ping observed.
"FBI! Do I have to spell it out for ya?" The captain shouted again, but Ping's trained eye picked up the sparkle in his eyes. The captain loved harsh humor... he just wasn't very good at it.
"Oh," Ping said reasonably, "I'm sorry captain, but you've reached the Chicago PD. If you want the FBI, perhaps you should hang up and try again."
"No, Bannon! Our happy friends from the FBI are eager to speak with you."
"You actually know happy, friendly people in the FBI?"
"Well, all right, they might be happier when you drag your carcass into my office in ten minutes!" He tapped his finger on his desk for emphasis. There's two very serious-lookin' schmucks loitering about wastin' the taxpayers' money."
"Very funny Captain," an urbane voice said from off-camera, "but this is rather urgent."
The Captain glanced up at the unseen speaker, giving him the 'you bother me' look Ping knew so well. Then he looked back, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially. "So Bannon, you heard the nice agent... make yourself available for our federal pals."
"On my way, chief." Ping severed the connection and buckled in. He grabbed the wheel in his left hand and started the car- or tried to. His key didn't fit, no matter how many times he flipped it over or wiggled it. After about thirty seconds, he looked inquisitively at the keys in his hand. Which one was supposed to fit? He couldn't remember.
***
Anne woke with the strangest feeling of calm. Not the everything's-going-to-be-okay kind of calm- but the kind where you're tougher than the tough times. Of course, this feeling faded somewhat with the onset of reality. Perhaps the first cold water thrown on her tranquility was the slick of drool on the floor near her open mouth.
She sat up. Hey! Smooth sailing! She still had some aches and pains, but she could move. She glanced back at the floor, just to make sure her dead body wasn't still lying there... nope, just the drool. Alive after all! It made her feel like she'd been dating death for years, but he just couldn't commit. She had a moment where that made her feel bad, but then she smiled and decided to attempt standing again.
She got to her feet with only a little unsteadiness. Her body's autopilot had reengaged, but she still felt uncoordinated, like her body was still in the breaking-in phase. She only stumbled once on her way back to the fridge. She closed the refrigerator with a real sense of accomplishment. "Ha!" She opened it again, closed it, opened it... held her hands out in triumph, "How you like me now, punk!" She slammed the door again and pirouetted, but had to steady herself on the counter half way through the maneuver. After only the briefest moment of dizzy uncertainty, she finished big with an accusing point at the fridge and another exuberant "Ha!"
She was still starving, though she definitely didn't trust that milk anymore. She checked her watch to see how long the fridge had been open- 10:52pm. NO! She was going to be late for work two days in a row!
Wow, she shifted gears fast. A few hours ago, she thought she was dying for the third time in twenty-four hours, but now, paroled by the Reaper yet again, she could still work up a dander over being tardy to her dead-end job.
She retrieved her tablet and checked the messages. Two were from work, both wondering where she was. Oh no. She checked the date. She hadn't been out for four hours... she had been out for twenty-eight.