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The Anti-Enchantment Bureau is in utter pandemonium. The Delaware River is expected to reach unprecedented levels. The underground compound is seriously threatened. Huge, unmarked trucks pull up around camouflaged trapdoors, uploading massive shipping containers of equipment, records and supplies. Some containers bear live specimens which have been sedated or anesthetized for the journey. And the rain comes down in sheets. Agents communicate via private frequency throat mikes, similar to those used by fighter pilots. Certain vetted cadres of Philadelphia police guard exits leading out to various main thoroughfares. Once empty, the water-tight, vacuum sealed doors slam shut. Yet nothing is foolproof. Thus the massive exodus.
Doctor Franklin, the vampires, plus certain others travel in two large, armored, black RV type conveyances. And that includes me, wilkravitz. But I do not know the destination.
A small team of agents was dispatched to the townhouse. No one can remain behind. Even Edith knows too much. Granted, tiny segments of society have always known about the paranormal. But the largely, still medieval minded populace must be kept ignorant. That's why they don't tell them about aliens. You know that. It'd be religious warfare in the streets.
Edith didn't want to leave. She cried. She wanted to go back to The Pines. But Mister Edith, also possessed of keen telepathic capabilities, knew the truth. They would be in danger anywhere else. Chinese agents knew of their existence. Russian agents knew too. You want me to go on? Look how long they kept Papa imprisoned in Rome. Vampires mean power and every government wants that. So the house was emptied. A specially trained and briefed team swept through the place, gathering up books, keepsakes, belongings and anything else pointing toward supernatural provenance.
But Blackie and Minnie stayed behind, keeping to themselves and escaping detection. Papa, still in a nebulous, spirit-like state, disappeared. A few other, shall we say unusual individuals (vampires aren't all that's out there) discreetly sought refuge in the basements of the PENN Museum. The ghoul, known as Johnny Jump Up was still out there. Damn, must be like Christmas Time to him.
*********
It was quiet in the large RV. Just the engine, the wipers and the tire hum. Baylah felt bad for her boyfriend. He loved the Margate beach house so much. She did too. But an eight foot rise in mean sea level? Come on. That place won't survive. It's gonna be like the Sinking of Atlantis. Bye-bye shore towns. Hope y'all got flood insurance. Happened once before... more than once... Why do you think Longport (an extremely vulnerable town just south of Margate) begins at Eleventh Street?
I'm typing this because Baylah thinks SO LOUD. She's like pushing it into my mind. It's not that I'm so telepathic, but her brain is HOT.
The others are quiet. But I get trickles from them too. Tomas goes back to his childhood among the orange groves and olive trees of Old Al Andaluz. Sarah pictures her family. They all do. Annie hugs little Avi. She loves that scruffy Yorkie. Conrad and Leo play a telepathic game of 'movie stars initials.'
And we travel down Route 73, through dark, wooded, suburban towns. These are old suburbs... gray stone houses, huge trees, a scattering of destination type 'inn' restaurants, maybe a cute, little shopping district now and then. Nobody's around, not even some yuppie walking a designer dog. Everybody's inside, glued to their televisions, watching the talking-people tell them how long they got left.
You know, even if you're snuggled up all warm in your bed, a thick, heavy oak tree can still smash through the roof and shatter your head.
More tomorrow.....hopefully. You're with us as it happens.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
please hit the SHARE BAR. tonight of all times, help the story spread. COMMENTS are pivotal now. thank you and stay safe.
Doctor Franklin, the vampires, plus certain others travel in two large, armored, black RV type conveyances. And that includes me, wilkravitz. But I do not know the destination.
A small team of agents was dispatched to the townhouse. No one can remain behind. Even Edith knows too much. Granted, tiny segments of society have always known about the paranormal. But the largely, still medieval minded populace must be kept ignorant. That's why they don't tell them about aliens. You know that. It'd be religious warfare in the streets.
Edith didn't want to leave. She cried. She wanted to go back to The Pines. But Mister Edith, also possessed of keen telepathic capabilities, knew the truth. They would be in danger anywhere else. Chinese agents knew of their existence. Russian agents knew too. You want me to go on? Look how long they kept Papa imprisoned in Rome. Vampires mean power and every government wants that. So the house was emptied. A specially trained and briefed team swept through the place, gathering up books, keepsakes, belongings and anything else pointing toward supernatural provenance.
But Blackie and Minnie stayed behind, keeping to themselves and escaping detection. Papa, still in a nebulous, spirit-like state, disappeared. A few other, shall we say unusual individuals (vampires aren't all that's out there) discreetly sought refuge in the basements of the PENN Museum. The ghoul, known as Johnny Jump Up was still out there. Damn, must be like Christmas Time to him.
*********
It was quiet in the large RV. Just the engine, the wipers and the tire hum. Baylah felt bad for her boyfriend. He loved the Margate beach house so much. She did too. But an eight foot rise in mean sea level? Come on. That place won't survive. It's gonna be like the Sinking of Atlantis. Bye-bye shore towns. Hope y'all got flood insurance. Happened once before... more than once... Why do you think Longport (an extremely vulnerable town just south of Margate) begins at Eleventh Street?
I'm typing this because Baylah thinks SO LOUD. She's like pushing it into my mind. It's not that I'm so telepathic, but her brain is HOT.
The others are quiet. But I get trickles from them too. Tomas goes back to his childhood among the orange groves and olive trees of Old Al Andaluz. Sarah pictures her family. They all do. Annie hugs little Avi. She loves that scruffy Yorkie. Conrad and Leo play a telepathic game of 'movie stars initials.'
And we travel down Route 73, through dark, wooded, suburban towns. These are old suburbs... gray stone houses, huge trees, a scattering of destination type 'inn' restaurants, maybe a cute, little shopping district now and then. Nobody's around, not even some yuppie walking a designer dog. Everybody's inside, glued to their televisions, watching the talking-people tell them how long they got left.
You know, even if you're snuggled up all warm in your bed, a thick, heavy oak tree can still smash through the roof and shatter your head.
More tomorrow.....hopefully. You're with us as it happens.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
please hit the SHARE BAR. tonight of all times, help the story spread. COMMENTS are pivotal now. thank you and stay safe.
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