Melbourne Bound
Part 2
[The continuation of the Survivor Short Story “project” in the War On Boris the Bytrode series. This time, back in time, 1967, following the adventures of middle-aged mum, Letitia…In this episode (7.2) Letitia and Wilhelm separately face their demons on the Princess of Tasmania bound for Melbourne.]
The cabin shuddered and roared. A flame-haired woman towered over and menaced her. Tails, lean and slimy, leered at her, laughing. His teeth turned black and jagged, and the face became that of the minx’s mum. Smoke filled the cabin. And bang!
***
Letitia bolted upright. Wide awake. Blinking in the darkness. Her world bucking and rolling. Side to side. Back and forth. Up and down. She clung to the sides of the bunk as it rolled one way then the other. She remained sitting, expecting to be assaulted with relentless seasickness. However, apart from a head that felt as though it was wadded thick with cotton wool and a nose stuffed with glue, she did not feel ill. She swung her feet over the bedside and landing them on the floor, she pushed herself to standing. She waded through the blackness to the door. Aiming for that thin sliver of light marking its direction. Letitia was hungry.
The mean mother and her menacing charges reared up in her memory. Perhaps, I’m not that hungry, she reasoned. Although her stomach growled protesting otherwise, she returned to her bunk and hibernated under the thin cotton covers.
***
Upon viewing the Hippie family in their Kombi, Will grew cold. Sweat, with a life of its own, dripped from his temples and underarms. The gentle sea breeze mingled with the dampness sending a chill through to his core.
Will studied the woman driving the van. ‘It’s him,’ the little lady’s voice echoed behind his ear.
‘Is it?’ he muttered. ‘Are you sure? Okay, I’ll just take a closer look.’
‘What?’ Letitia glanced at Will. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I, er, um am just taking a visit to the men’s room.’ He patted her arm. ‘You’ll be alright?’
‘Yeah, fine.’
Will made his way down to the car docking bay. There, he watched the Kombi and its inhabitants. And waited.
Close up, they were obvious. Not the kids though, like he expected. They were just kids. Proper little Munchkins. But the man and woman. The “man” in the kaftan with his long curly brown hair and John Lennon specs, currently carrying the dog, walked like a woman.
Will nodded. ‘Interesting.’
All those years merged with a woman gives a man a certain insight about such matters like how they walk and talk. The Boris attack and being thrown some 400-years into the past, that’s how that situation happened. And now that woman, her spirit or whatever it was, had been stuck in his head, even after the separation. Courtesy of Boris. With his slimy strings attached, of course.
As the van moved closer, Will focussed on the driver. ‘It’s him,’ the little voice at the back of his ear repeated.
‘Just the sort of thing Boris would do,’ Will said.
At a distance, Will followed the odd family to their cabin.
Once inside, he slid up to the door and listened.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ a woman said, ‘I swear this wig is giving me hives.’
‘Calm down, Maggie, dear,’ a man said, ‘it’ll all be worth it. Not long to go now, my precious.’
‘Did you see her?’
‘Yes, my precious. I have my agents onto her. She should be grateful I saved her life.’
‘Don’t know why you bothered. She’s just an old frump, now really. No use to breed with.’
‘Ah, but, my precious, that is where you are wrong. Her mind. Her skills. And the Admiral, just think what I can get the Admiral to do if I have his daughter in my grasp? Look at what lengths he’s going for his son?’
‘I don’t agree,’ the lady snapped. ‘You’re wasting your time. I’m going out for some fresh air.’
The cabin door swung open.
Will slipped around the nearest corner while a lady, red curls bouncing down the curves of her back, marched past him.
As she disappeared down the corridor, Will peeked around the corner to glimpse a round man in a brown tweed suit, close the door to the cabin.
‘It’s him,’ the voice behind his ear said.
© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021
Feature Photo: Through Cabin Window, Gordon Franklin River Cruise © L.M. Kling 2016
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