Cyber Kittens and Cowboys Ipam (reading a book txt) 📖

attempt to change her voice,manner or move from sofa. Pamela understands, sorta her mentalstate of mind. Ashley doesn’t know what happened to poor Thurstonand lives in some kinda time warp, wondering, pondering, re-livingher awful forever midnight from the CIA mission. Poor thing!

Ashley talks, calmly, eye burns ceiling.“Thurston exploded, yesterday. I have not received any news fromhospital. Is he okay, doctor?”

Here for answers, she decides, unwisely toseek them. “Who is Tag?”

“I am.” Ashley talks, calmly, eye burnsceiling. Pamela nods, once thinking Ashley remembers,completely.

Pamela questions, bravely. “Who is IT?”

Ashley mice-squeaks, uprights on elbows,buttocks, legs then feet on carpet. “Find it…find it… find it…findit…”

Pamela stands, swiftly & holds,vertically palms in air wondering what to do next. She talks,nervously in soprano flute. “We will find it. Okay, Ashley? We willfind it.” Ashley lays, gently down, stretching legs, and arms overentire length of sofa. Pamela repeats, softly. “Alright, Ashley!Shhh! Just relax and breathe deeply.”

Girl breathes, heavily.

Pamela studies, intensively papers on desk.Top document lists series of numbered questions for Ashley. Pamelareads fast & discovers Thurston explosion occurred in ChalkCave. She can use stolen library book to research that particularsite location which is somewhere in the Birmingham area. She skimsrest of questions with provided answers finding useless data. Shestops, suddenly & eye burns Ashley. Ashley rests, calmly onsofa.

Pamela whispers, softly. “It’s not here. Thequestion’s not here.”

Ashley talks, calmly, eye burns ceiling.“Thurston exploded, yesterday. I have not received any news fromhospital. Is he okay, doctor?”

She scans, twice looking for the answer toher active mental question then shifts, nosily around crowdedoffice & kneels beside Ashley. Pamela inquires, tenderly. “Whois BOA?”

“Preston.” Ashley whispers, softly, eye burnsceiling.

Pamela shakes, sideways black skull. “NotPreston.” Okay, Preston works for FBI but she does, also with megaloads of secret information. For two weeks with Preston, Pamelaknows everything about him, his favorite jazz song, his favoritealcoholic drink, his favorite tickle. She giggles, lightly.

Pamela repeats, softly, holds, tenderlygirl’s hands. “Ashley, who is really BOA?”

“Preston.” Ashley whispers, twice.

Noise sounds, loudly. Voices rumble, deeply.Footfalls stomp tile, swiftly.

“Preston’s here.” Pamela leaps, uprightly& eye burns closed office door.

Pamela grabs backpack, ducks out door, fleesdowns stairs into partially cracked door of EXIT archway fromprofessional office building. She flings door open & stops,suddenly.

“Hey! Don’t close that door.” Invisible bodytenor voice yells, loudly.

Pamela holds, preciously door with hand &surveys, quickly outdoor space, smoking area. She touches, gentlycigarette box & cigarette lighter in lab coat with free hand.Dr. Dale Kirby smokes.

She shuts, carefully door holding bigodd-shaped limestone rock between frame and door preventing closureso smokers can re-enter building freely without trucking aroundfront entrance.

Pamela grabs, tenderly cigarette from box& slides, slowly into cuddy hidey hole between window &concrete wall. She shifts collar of lab coat against her neck,hiding facial prolife.

She lights, roughly on second try cigarette& holds, horizontally to ground appearing like regular smoker& prays, swiftly she’s doesn’t start coughing.

Pamela doesn’t smoke or drink alcohol onlybecause her parents don’t engage in those bad habits. Everyone hassome type of bad habits. She has, also.

She closes, slowly eyelids while standing inher silly clown disguise of yellow & purple fake hair piecescouple with baby blue scrubs & sweats beneath the multiplelayers of sweat sets. She hears, nosily combo of voices, boots& shouts.

Preston & company are stomping down theback stairs. She doesn’t see their faces but hears voices,clearly.

Door creaks, steadily open. “Hey, man! Don’tslam that door.” Invisible body in tenor voice hollers,sharply.

Preston moves, cautiously onto short brickedyellow patio & scans, slowly patio, grass, trees, bushes,people then back to empty stairway. Arthur rushes down stairs &stumbles, painfully into him.

“She here?” Arthur talks, hurriedly whilebreathing oxygen.

Preston comments, slowly & eye burnsoutdoors. “Naw, just smokers.”

Arthur points, rudely pass Preston’s nose indirection. “She fled that way…maybe.”

Preston concludes, swiftly. “No figure movingNorth and no other spot to hide with open, wide terrain. She exitedon separate floor during our chase.”

Arthur suggests, strongly. “You ask smokerswhile I start checking upper floors.”

“Pamela doesn’t smoke or drink. She ain’there. Damn it!” Preston eye burns skyline then building patio backto Arthur. “Go around side, check for any clues of her hiding inthe manicured bushes. I’ll go talk with Ashley Slanton, hear if shesaw anything weird.” Preston orders. Arthur nods, once, moves outof sight of Preston and door. Preston hustles back up stairs.

Pamela leans, heavily into wall as she hearstheir angry words, their positive actions & negative reactionssince they can’t find her. She’s in deep black puppy poopy.However, Pamela has new lead, Chalk Cave. She’s going spelunking.She ditches cigarette & smacks it dead with sneaker heel thenwalks, daring into manicured lawn toward concrete sidewalk. She’sabout 10 blocks from Homewood Public Library for researching cavingprocedures into Chalk Cave.

Dale Kirby’s private office.

Larry greets, professionally at rear door,thumbs, backwardly. “Preston…two dead bodies in back room fourholes in chest.”

Preston marches behind Larry & orders,commandingly then slaps his back muscles. “Larry, get on horn andcall EMS and get us more help. We search entire building forPamela.”

“Roger.” Larry yells, loudly walks towardarchway.

“Ashley.” Stockton purrs, softly, kneels,swiftly beside her, holds, gently her pale hands.

“How’s she doing?” Preston leans, heavilyinto sofa.

“Geneva?” Stockton quips, nervously, stands,swiftly away from Preston, sofa and Larry locked

between door & wall.

“Preston!” Geneva squawks,ear-piercingly.

Preston body twists 180 degrees, swiftly,greets deep baritone trombone & holds, vertically palms in airas she swings, directly Colt .45 in his face. “Good to see ya,Geneva.”

“Geneva, where did she come from?” Larryquestions, shockingly & holds, vertically palms in air whileGeneva emerges, fully from stair well door, points, directly twoguns at Preston.

“Back room.” Preston answers, clearly,pondering Geneva has been hiding, listening entire time spying,waiting for answers, also. Geneva doesn’t know, either. He grins,toothy.

“I found only them bodies….” Larry empties,incompletely.

Preston fills, completely. “…back room. Whyya kill these nice, innocent people, Geneva?”

“Preston...?” Geneva smiles, evilly, swaysboth Colts at Preston.

Preston rumbles in deep baritone trombone,grins, toothy. “Didn’t expect to find me, here? I tracked Pamela,here. I’m FBI.