Sharon had the tome wrapped up and held tightly against her chest, the smell of the parchment in her nose. She walked briskly for the exit and pulled out the slick black shape of her burner phone and dialed the number Agatha had programmed. It picked up and she hit 0, in a few seconds Agatha Orebite was talking to her.
“Are you ready for pickup?”
“Yes madam” said Sharon, breathing hastily in her excitement.
“When you get to the exit of the building, turn north and head to the train station. Within a few minutes, a large black car should pull up on you from behind, a very large, very hairy man will be driving. We are literally talking Bigfoot hairy. When his window rolls down, He’ll say “Sharon” and you respond “Carol Ann”, He’ll reply “sucks goat balls” and at that point you get in the back of his car and he’ll whisk you away and to the Cryptid house where you will be safe. Ask “Sharon”, reply “Caron Ann” and final reply “sucks goat balls” Clear?
I laughed a crescendo of joyful music and tossed my head back in sheer joy, “I’ll never forget that set of pass phrases as long as I live, I assure you.”
“Alright deary, The car should be here any second so I’ll just listen along so I know it all worked out, but bye in the meantime, just tell me when you are safe and I’ll be gone.”
I head a car pull up behind me and the driver was as described very large and very hairy. Clearly a Cryptid, which made sense of my destination He was wearing a ball cap and a pair of sunglasses, but he was clearly a part of the Big Foot clan. Big Feet Clan? Big Footses? Plural of that one always confused me. We’ll go with Big Foot….”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
We exchanged the passcodes good naturedly and I slid into the back seat, I said goodbye to Agatha and started to breathe. I tool slow deep breaths laying on my side in the large back seat, where nobody could see me. With each deep breath the bar of tension called my body began to become malleable.. soft.
The guy up front was quiet until we’d made several turns and come up to a higher rate of travel. Then his shaggy head turned to look at me and smiled. “The girls said you’d be sharp, glad to see it, stay down, but spread out and get comfortable.” He stopped looking at me and turned back his driving. “To be official, because I’m told I’m too casual at times like this, Hi Sharon, I’m on team Aggie, you can call me Squatch. I’ll get you into the House of Cryptid and settled before too long. Once we’re on the inside, one of my friends will take you to a room with a hot shower and bed and a phone. My wife will get you to the spa proper in them morning. My wife, Momo, and Aggie told me you’d be interested in a hot shower, food, drinks and bed in that order. We don’t have room service, but I have a niece parked in the kitchen who will get you taken care of since you missed dinner. She has keys to the pantry. Think pub food not 5-star gourmet. The craft beer is good with a wide selection, the Vodka is better. The rest is adequate, but I will not promise higher. Aggie took the liberty of arranging a large pitcher of Margaritas on the rocks and frozen pre salted glasses awaiting you in your room Anything else, just grab the phone and ask the operator for the kitchen, or me. They know who you are and your access. If they can’t find me ask to talk to my wife Momo. Okay?”
Smiling and relaxing, I laugh, replying carelessly, luxuriating in the freedom of saying my mind after months of tense careful answers. “I know you are part of the clan and a sasquatch, but won’t the boss get pissed off at your for using his nickname, even as a nom de plume?”
He took his sunglasses off, and his warm golden eyes met mine and smiled “I think I’ll be okay, because I am the boss missy. The names Squatch, the Squatch, not a squatch. We are about 30 seconds out.”