scintilla [sin-til-uh] (noun) 1. A spark; a flash; a trace amount. 2. A small piece of writing intended to inspire wonder, curiosity, or amusement.
The kitchens of the Diamont Building were a frustrating maze of automated food-preppers, serving counters, and narrow, staff-clogged pathways in between. Vervain had finally given up on finding her way out, and was now simply looking for an empty enough serving counter that jumping it and departing into the dining areas wouldn’t attract too much notice.
“I know you have DEF.”
The voice of her enemy made her spin to face him, even as his strange words short-circuited her normal panic reaction. “You think I’m deaf?” she repeated, confused.
Dammon Diamont looked heavenward as if for patience, while the people around them swiftly left the area, giving their boss’s boss’s boss privacy.
“Diamont Echo Field,” he explained, clearly impatient. “A child of five could navigate from the highest observation room to the lowest dungeon without a wrong turn. I know you have it. I made sure you knew you had it at your fraudulent entry this morning.”
“That wasn’t fraudulent! You brought me here!”
He ignored her protest. “So why are you wandering around my kitchens instead of sneaking back to my office while I was distracted and stealing back your sword?”
Vervain winced. “I’m kind of bad with directions,” she started to explain, weakly, when her brain caught up with her ears. “Wait… you wanted me to steal the sword back?”
The counter separating them from the dining area retracted, leaving her gaping at how easily she could have left if only she’d known the trick of it. Dammon grabbed her arm just above the elbow and pulled her out across the dining area, towards the wide windows.
“I wanted you to be caught stealing my property and shot dead by the police, leaving me the blameless victim until I can put my plan into motion. Now, though, I’m going to have to settle for a dramatic fight to your death on the promenade.”
He thrust her out a door onto a broad walkway that seemed vanishingly narrow without the usual safety rail at its edge. The wind whipped her hair across her face, carrying with it the faint wail of a siren from far below.
“You won’t get away with this,” Dammon shouted as he followed her, swinging a roundhouse punch at her head.
She ducked easily and retreated. “Why are you doing this?” she shouted over the wind.
He dodged, flattening himself against the wall instead of responding.
Confused, she did the same just in time for a laser blast to rip through the space she had been standing a moment before.
“You’re insane,” she said, though she didn’t bother shouting this time. Instead, she pushed off from the wall behind her into a short dash and then dove off the edge, closing her eyes and hoping that her grandmother’s stories had been right.
Sorry about the no post yesterday…
I completely forgot…
I might be fighting off a cold…
I didn’t even work out, let alone post…
It was a delayed reaction to the tire-related stressors of the day before…
The cat needed to be flossed…
I was feeling kind of zombific…
No, actually I was set upon by zombies…
Hordes of ‘em!
So obviously I couldn’t have been expected to remember to post yesterday.
At least for me.
A couple of years ago, I trashed a tire and the other three were bald, and the dealership I go to was booked, so I went to Town Fair Tire on Rt. 6 in Bristol and got four new ones.
And I sprung for the road hazard insurance, which covers repairs and replacements if the sidewall is damaged.
A few months ago, I had a tire blow out on the highway, and got to replace it for $30 instead of $135, since the tire itself was covered, and I just had to pay for the rebalancing and the re-purchase of the road hazard insurance.
Today, as I was leaving work for an appointment, I slowly realized something was wrong, and then pulled over that not only did I have a flat, I had driven too much and the sidewall was damaged. Again, $35 instead of $145. (The tire price has gone up.)
My afternoon was full of fail, but it definitely had some silver speckles too.
On another note, Best. Christmas. Present. Ever. – AAA membership. Thank you, Mom & Dad!!!