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Everything Jake. #747 Summer Vacation: Part Three: The Flight by Mike Rosenzweig Jake called Megoth as soon as they were settled in their hotel room. "Dude, you have no idea how much trouble we had getting our stuff, getting a cab, and getting settled in. But, here we are, settled in." "How… how much trouble?" "A lot. You have no idea. But, I really don't want to talk about it. Kelly is passed out from exhaustion on his bed and I'm about two seconds away from passing out m'self. Just calling to, you know, check in." "Consider than, Jake, yourself checked." "Thanks Megoth. Any movement on the Faith front? The Tracker already ran out of batteries." "Really?" "Really." "Wow. Thought it would last longer than that. Remember, 'C' batteries, Jake, none other." "Right. So no new movement?" "No, there was a short burst of seven feet, then twenty minutes later, another one of the same distance, I'm... I'm just… I'm just assuming bad guy went out for fish and chips. Speaking of which, how're you guys with money?" "We have some. Kelly got kind of upset when the guy in the airport charged him for matches. Weird country. I did buy a half pack of Marlboro Reds, weird, right?" "Absolutely. Get some rest, then you guys need to go out and get the bad guy, okay? I'll phone ya if there's a big jump, but all's as well on the vital signs and tracking screens." "You're not gonna say, 'Megoth out', are ya?" "I was going to, yes." "Good night, Megoth." "Megoth, out!!" Jake hung up the phone and looked at his hotel room. He rubbed the back of his neck, then went to the dresser and opened his suitcase. The room itself was like an 75-100 dollar a night room back in the states, but only… more British looking, Jake thought, as if that made any kind of sense. It was as though he expected Eric Idle or John Cleese to walk in the door and recite some silly hotel sketch and then leave. Jake took his shirt off and crept on the top of his covers wearing his jeans. He thought about his brief encounter with Hector and how strange it was. He's been in their little summoned world before, he knows that, but this time he remembered it so… vividly. Like, if he wanted to, he could just close his eyes and open them in that place. How much help would he really need? He dare not drink of more of that crap Kiani gave him, he didn't trust or like Hector but there really was no reason Jake could think of where Hector lied to him. He's been up front and honest. But, the first time Jake drank the stuff, that feeling in the back of his head, the release of something tight there… The stuff must work and Hector might not want Jake to use it for some reason. Has to be. But what reason? Am I that powerful? Is he really afraid of my power that he would go to any lengths to stop me from using it? Maybe Hector put that block with my sister there in the first place… No. No. No. No. I refuse to believe that Hector has anything to gain or to lose by setting that up. He just… he just wants to help me. I have to believe that, Jake thought, getting up. I have to believe that someone, out there, is looking out for me. Yeah, fine, Hector, I know you could probably hear this, send some help, I'll stay in your stupid training facility next summer. But that's all. Just the summer. Jake reached into his carry on backpack and pulled out a Snapple bottle that was the most important part of the trip. It didn't pop when he opened it. Jake leaned his head against the window, the glass was cold to touch and he left a small condensation mark on it. I need help, he thought. Please someone help me. He opened the window, and leaned out as far as he could go. He was about six or seven stories up, there was no one around on the foggy night. Foggy night, London, who woulda thunk it. He took a big gulp of the Snapple that's not Snapple, and wiped his mouth with his bare forearm, and then remember something from that place Hector and gang took him. He placed the bottle on the wooden desk, it made a clank, but Kelly did not wake up. Jake stepped out onto the ledge. 'Why… not.' He was sure this wasn't really the time he should ask himself 'why not' like Kiani suggested last Christmas, but to that, he smiled, why not why not? He stepped off onto the fog, and to his surprise, fell right through it.    
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EVERYTHING JAKE is TM & (C) 2000-2011 by Mike Rosenzweig. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
