!!0ZviLFh59My 03/06/12(Tue)23:59 No.18235614|
File: 1331096361.png-(304 KB, 600x800, 1330586318774.png)
You wake up on the plane.
Across from you, Trude is holding her sister in her lap, eyes squeezed shut, gripping her little sister with all her might. Chris is fast asleep, twitching every now and then when the C-47 rocks with turbulence.
Ian is napping in the seat next to her, his M-1 Carbine sitting between his legs, muzzle-up.
You look towards the rear of the plane, where Sean is keeping an eye on the Hell Cow. Said cow is sitting with its legs folded underneath it, its creepily aware gaze moving around the cabin in a slow, tracking pattern. You shudder involuntarily.
"Fancy a slug?"
You accept a flask from Paddy Mayne, who's seated next to you, and drain a quarter of it one go, choking and coughing as you come up for air.
"Bloody hell mate, that's Uzo you've got there."
You cough hoarsely. "Perfect."
"So," Stirling says, on your right.
"If I were to write this shit down," Paddy says evenly, "They'd call me a fucking liar."
"You," drawls a man further back in the aircraft, "need to cut it out with them negative waves, man."
"Amen," Stirling says, taking the flask from you and addressing it himself.
The C-47 puts down at Castle Barin a few minutes later, and you stagger off to find some nice, dark hole to sleep in. Your first instinct is to sleep in the Widow, but you remember you left her behind on some remote airbase in South Bumfuck or whatever they call that county that feeds off the tourists driving to and from the Isle of Wright. Touristlandia? You don't know. You're tired.
>And remember something that's been bothering you for FOREVER, but was forgotten!