Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #114)
Howdy, folks! Previously, in our quirky tale, Dr. Electro and the boys hitch a ride in Jimmy’s truck, heading back to his warehouse to lay low for the day. Electro finally drifts off to sleep, while across town, a sinister meeting takes place. “Find them!” is the order. This is...
The Return of Dr. Electro - #10: Tea Time
A last ray of afternoon sun played over the iron girder. Dr. Electro blinked groggily up at it. It stared back. Where was he? WHO was he? He rolled onto his side with a groan. Why was he on the floor of a...a warehouse? Pieces floated dimly in his brain - Jimmy, the truck, the Jolly Ranchers, the sidekick Junior worrying about...something. Electro eyed the sawdust that had been his pillow. Maybe if I rest a little more... Rutherford’s voice snapped his reverie.
“Where the devil is Walter? Jimmy, my good fellow, do you have any tea?”
The Brit sounded Lipton-brisk, perennially alert...or possibly delirious. Electro hoped he had slept. He brushed away the memories of what had happened on safari in ‘23 as he rubbed his eyes, yawned, and stood. Dusk was sending shadowy fingers creeping through the immense room. The feeling of danger returned, settling like dust on Electro’s shoulders. He was hungry.
Preacher’s voice rumbled from behind a wall of boxes.
“It’ll be dark soon. Walter or no, we’ve gotta roll then. The Santa Fe main has a flyover about five miles east of here. I’ve hopped many a train when they change crews there. Let’s make tracks for Chicago, boys! Ah, Electro, welcome back to the land of the living!”
Footsteps and a clattering of china announced Jimmy’s return.
“Good news and bad news. I made tea, but while it was brewing, I saw a strange truck arrive. We should go.”
He placed the pot down, still steaming. Rutherford looked at it longingly, and with a sudden motion, scooped it up. The hot water sloshed, but he ignored the scald. Tea would be had.
“To go, you see. Wouldn’t call it a movable feast, but it’ll do. Where the devil is Walter?”
The rustling of packing echoed in the immense room, and the floorboards creaked under their stealthy feet moving out. The same Whir! Rattle! Clang! of the truck door, the same engine throb of the morning. Electro was again glad of the anonymous darkness. The buildings seemed to have eyes. Jimmy’s Trucking lumbered east with a full load of cargo. It was time to catch a train.
* * *
Not ten minutes later, a floorboard in the vacated warehouse creaked again. A solitary figure picked up an empty teacup, and ran a finger through a puddle on the floor. “Still warm...Somebody forgot their tea.”
....To Be Continued...