Spending So Much Time
- sometimes it pays to be an atheist
- Do Not Enter This Area
- attacked by a horrible mechanical devil baby
- one iota less furious
- two loyal and stupid friends
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Spending so much time inside the chapel, cavorting with Isolde among the skeletons to the exhortations of the incense woman, reminded me that sometimes it pays to be an atheist. As far as I was concerned, the signs on Churches in general — and Contrarian religious edifices in particular — might as well read “Do Not Enter This Area.”
But acting as Isolde’s proxy husband for 24 hours had been enjoyable, even in a chapel. I whistled as I finished putting my clothes back on. While I was putting my second leg into my pants, the floor pitched beneath me and I tumbled against the wall of the corridor.
Klaxons sounded as the carrier rolled back the other way, sending me crashing up against the door I’d just been kicked out of. Isolde burst out, screaming, “What’s happening?!” I yanked my pants the rest of the way on and together we raced up to the bridge to find out.
Fleur was in command, and between shouted orders to her crew she filled us in. A huge submarine of some type had risen under our keel and was trying to capsize us. “Come with me,” she said, and we didn’t argue.
We went swiftly to the bow, where the zeppelin was docked. The blue panda and the rainbow armadillo met us there with the children, and we all climbed the ladder into the airship’s gondola. Isolde cut us loose the second we were all aboard. As we rose above the battling vessels, we got our first look at the enemy submarine.
It was bulbous, with a vaguely humanoid layout. The forward section looked amazingly like a head, complete with a toothless mouth stretched wide in a howl of primal, infantile rage. Whoever had “attacked by a horrible mechanical devil baby” in the pool for what was going to befall this ship just made a big score. Apparently the absurdity of the situation didn’t make Fleur one iota less furious about the attack.
I worried about John and my aunt. Looking at the stern, I noticed the biplane was no longer there. Had our captors stowed it? Had it been thrown into the sea by the attack? Or was it safely away, carrying my two loyal and stupid friends? I scanned the skies all around but could only see the Contrarian fighter planes that Fleur had scrambled before abandoning ship.
“Do you know whose sub that is?” I asked her.
“Yes,” she said darkly, and offered nothing more.
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