Saturday, January 1, 2022
Happy New Year, everyone! You’ve reached The Armadillo Files. It’s unreal so hold on tight.
I meant to give myself a week off. However, the real world had other plans. Add to that… to be honest, I’m not doing well with my “stuff,” although I’m not exactly sure why. I’m not complaining — just explaining, but it hasn’t been easy. Even so, I was determined to give you at least a little bit of The Armadillo Files.
Random Reader Things
The three things that drive this episode are from GP Cox, at Pacific Paratrooper. Click over and check out his amazing historical blog. It really is extraordinary. His random reader things are anteater, bottle of vodka, and Pacific Ocean.
Previously in The Armadillo Files
Fang started to sort of flicker in and out of existence. TROLLEY’s warning bells blasted. Fang told Dilly it was something about the timeline waste flow. TROLLEY ordered them to the transport bay. The feline pilots rolled into the bay, driving an antique roadster. You can find all the past chapters by going to the categories on the right side of the screen. Click on Armadillo Files.
18 — Where are we headed?
Silence surrounded the red and blue American Bantam roadster. Something that was invisible to me shut out TROLLEY’s claxon and the horn honking boop-beep, boop-beep.
Physical support auxiliary pilot, Peggy Sue looked over her ginger shoulder to where the kitten and I perched on the back of the car. The feline pilot gave a low warning meow. Intern Frances mewed in reply, then turned to look at me expectantly. I had no idea what the kitten might be trying to communicate to me. Abruptly I felt the surface go out from under me, and I dropped down about a foot and a half.
Frances and I landed on a softly padded leather seat. The roadster had expanded to add a passenger seat. A hard container pressed against my lower back. Shifting awkwardly, I extricated it. Made of a hard, clear plastic, it was labeled “freeze-dried ants.” I read it aloud in a disconcerted mutter, and sarcastically asked if the last passenger had been an anteater.
“Oh! You had Chuck here. How’s he doing?” Fang asked, turning toward Frances who gave an odd meow. “Dilly honey, pass those over. I might want a snack later. Armadillos aren’t anteaters, but when I was one, I enjoyed a tasty ant now and then.”
He tucked the container into a pocket. Then he wriggled around as though he was looking for something. Peggy Sue meowed. Fang murmured thanks and reached under his seat. With a happy exclamation, he produced a bottle of vodka. Opening the bottle he took a drink, then twisted toward me again.
“Take a good swig, Dilly. You’re going to need it. Besides, it actually helps with the transition,” Fang advised. “Peggy Sue, is there any chance that we’re headed to the Pacific Ocean? I haven’t been there in ages. No? Darn. Too bad.”
Tail slashing, Peggy Sue turned back to the steering wheel. I don’t know what the machine used for an accelerator, but she must have punched it hard. The red and blue roadster careened backward toward the broad huge non-reflecting standing mirror.
As we came up to it, the silver surface rippled. Our reflection suddenly appeared. The car met its mirror image, but there was no collision. Roadster and occupants were sucked inside.
For a moment there was just… gray.
“Dilly, hold tight to the vodka bottle. The Time Manatees enjoy a nip,” Fang advised.
To my astonishment I realized the bottle was weightless, and it pulled slightly at my grasp. I gasped, worried about what that might mean. Anxiously, I handed it back to Fang. He tucked it back under his seat.
A stream of pink light bloomed out of the stark gray. It enveloped the roadster in a secure bubble, but the length of it continued out as far as I could see. Peggy Sue murmured a short meow. Frances echoed it.
A broad rope of green light rushed toward us. It was immediately followed by similar streams of blue, yellow, and purple. They twined around the protecting pink. I could feel that they were tightening and somehow merging. I worried that we would be crushed.
The lights began to pulse softly, at first randomly and then gradually in concert. I experienced the incomprehensible sensation of sitting still — and yet tumbling and whirling all at the same time.
Similar to the g-force of a rocket, an abrupt surge of motion overwhelmed my senses.
♦ ♦ ♦
They seem to be on the way to somewhere… and somewhen. Although, who can say exactly where or when. Tune in for more next weekend. Hugs on the wing!
The history, particularly military aspects of this story probably make it difficult… However, this story isn’t really about religion or politics. So, please remember that this is my sanctuary — a place for all of us to be safe and away from political and religious commentary. Kindly keep that in mind with your comments.
In other news, “Dead of Winter: Journey 12, Goddesses” is now available!
Dead of Winter — All the Journeys
Universal Purchase Links
Journey 12, Goddesses
Journey 11, the Sumelazon Escarpment
Journey 10, Pergesca
Journey 9, Doors of Attunement
Journey 8, The Lost Library
Journey 7, Revenant Pass
Journey 6, The Fluting Fell
Journey 5, Llyn Pistyll Falls
Journey 4, The Old Road
Journey 3, the Fever Field
Journey 2, Penllyn
Journey 1, Forlorn Peak
This is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.