Monday, March 27, 2017

Roper 9 - Airplane Graveyard

We were playing Viking Chess on the left wing of a jumbo jet with small O2 cylinders as soldiers.

The Mandrake, princess of darkness,  tried to tune in on one of the few free radio stations the regime hadn't closed down yet.

She looked comfortable, leaning against the fuselage close to the emergency exit and gave L. the occasional, cat like stare. These stares always ended up with her shacking her head a bit, just as to ask herself what the hell was going on here.

I won and killed the King with an underhand throw...not bad at all if I may say.

We both joined The Mandrake in the shadow.

"Any luck?"

"Not at all, maybe at night. Amplitude modulation is a real bitch in these parts. I think I may have gotten Radio Free Germany, but they only managed to broadcast for a few minutes."

It is easy to forget that The Mandrake was communications Engineer before we pulled the plug on the Web, now she is operating with a crank powered SW/AM/FM radio and tried to figure what happened in the world.

I guess the last 8 days went on her nerves too, even though she seemed magically untouched by the desert, the heat, sun, the cramped living conditions and the weird tasting, condensed  water we harvested from aircraft wings before the sun got up. The whole idea was one of these weird things L. could fish out of his ocean deep collection of useless knowledge.

Well, whooping 30 L per wing gave us more than enough for hygiene.

But that did not justify The Mandrakes near magic ability to repel dirt molecules who dared to enter her gothic-negativity force field: Her tight fitting goth clothes were as flawless as the day we met her.

She did however let go of her make up and I could see that some very brave UV rays managed to leave a bit of colour on her face.

"Any luck on the police band?" L. asked. He fished one of the new Lariats out of his backpack and did that little cowboy trick James Dean did in "Giants".

The Mandrakes eyes went very hungry all of a sudden and her whole body radiated an unambigious message: "Oh yeah, that's the STUFF!"

Poor girl had the weirdest fetish I could think off. And looking at her,  moving closer to L. I knew, that sounds ... as if someone tried to balance a cat on a red-hot poker will be shacking the desert night again.

Probably a good night to try and sleep that Air Emirates plane .

"Ehm..." she licked her lips, visibly trying to concentrate "nope, we...YOU are still shit hot on all police bands. The GOOD news being that the bikers have buried the war axe and formed one big one. Serving the regime and finding you being agenda number one."

"Yay" L . said and let a figure eight knot magically appear on the rope.

Poor girl was going to be dehydrated if he kept that up.

She focused on me:

"When will your girl show up? I thought we only would stay here for 3 days?!"

I starred at the horizon, the sun was about to set and bathe the whole landscape in that orange/violet colour. Magic hour.

"I have no idea"

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