Deadly Drafts - CH 15

ANOTHER ENVELOPE

The electricity died early Thursday morning. The fates, deciding true heroism required compound problems, blew in a Canadian clipper, an Andrew Jackson cold front to drive off the lingering Indian summer. Bernard, one of his few successes, had thankfully acquired enough propane and D batteries to take them to rapture. A ceramic heater chuffed warmth to the Admiral's leg. Outside, bowed grasses and leaves wore a glimmering tiara of frost.

He basked in the pre-dawn gloam, comforted by the sensual buzz of his electric typewriter. Their coupling had birthed the empire of madness. He loved her—the typewriter—and she loved him. They were high-school sweethearts when he was fifteen, glimmering virginal promise. Through bust and flush—five sets of strikes, a new motor, just last week a replaced drum—he'd stuck with his lover. Now in their dotage, they embarked on this last great journey.