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Indy-KP chapter 7Chapter 7. Tenacity
For a few seconds, a tense silence descended on Mount Yamanuchi and the air grew hot, despite the high altitude of their surroundings. In the chasm far below, the roar of the river drifted upward to mingle with the sounds of bees buzzing about. The leather of Indy's jacket creaked slightly as he began to raise his hands in a gesture of surrender; a stall tactic while his mind raced, trying to think of a way out of the current problem.
Zim's mind, on the other hand, was full of questions, " Why are you following us? And how did you manage to get yourself and a team of armed men into Japan?"
The Russian shrugged, as though answering her questions wouldn't harm anything since he was going to shoot them in a few minutes, "I am-"
"Commander Pieter Stukhov of the KGB," Zim interrupted impatiently, "We know that. I want to know why you are following us."
The Russian looked startled, then realized, "Of course, you looked at my identification papers
Indy-KP Chapter 3Chapter 3. Remembrance
"Doctor Jones? Are you all right?"
"I yes it's just that I'm sorry, but is that what I think it is?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"There, James, on the end of the mantle. The ornament."
"Oh yes, this is just our collection of Santas I guess we should have taken down the Christmas stuff by now, there's Elvis Santa, Motorcycle Santa, Surfin' Santa, Bobble-Head Santa-"
"The one on the end, son, that one."
"This one? Oh right, this is the one Mom gave us, it's Kim's favorite."
"I think that's the one we picked out together, Christmas of '46."
"Huh? Nana used to tell me: 'your grandfather and I got that on our very first Christmas.' She was talking about you?"
"I suppose she was I'm sorry but would anyone mind if I removed my eye patch? If I leave it on too long I get headaches."
"Kim, it really is late, maybe we should let Doctor Jones get some rest and get Ronnie-Anne home."
Our DutyWe swallowed the path home
Because we were hungry,
Though starving is an ongoing
Story, an empty bag
Dancing in the streets,
Full of an unfastened voice
Walking through the house,
Wind unchained, heart admonished.
Heaven fills its eyes, crawls away,
That sleeping boat content to follow
The vacant waves, intervals
Of dying that we dare not interrupt,
And we watch the kind ear shrinking
From our charcoal docks; heaven
With a full stomach crawls away.
This is what we were put here for.
Leaving Southampton She was in the kitchen when he stumbled in noisily, tripping as he went past the shelves and catching the edge of the table to keep himself from falling.
Pretending not to hear the stream of curses that followed, she kept her eyes fixed on the dishes, letting her hand trail in the soapy water. There was a loud scraping of wood against grimy concrete as he drew a chair and collapsed into it. At this she looked up, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, unnecessarily, "You've been drinking."
He clutched his head and said nothing. He hadn't shaved in weeks and stank of sweat and alcohol; he looked much older than his eighteen years.
They sat in silence for a while. Then he announced, loudly, "Fuck."
She didn't bother to tell him off. She just waited. And jumped when he suddenly brought his fist down, hard, onto the table.
"Our lives here are s
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