Halloween special of DOOM, part two
I am SO happy to be a part of this. I really hope I did @almondmocha justice after they did SUCH an excellent job of starting us off!
And good luck! @chagrinfalls, you're it!
Title: Halloween Special of DOOM 2017, part 2 Word Count: ~2,702
Warnings: none
Halloween Special of DOOM - part two
Howard’s eyes skittered over the pages, as though unwilling to take in the images. He caught flashes of purple and a spiked helmet before he closed his eyes tightly. He took a deep breath before slowly opening them again. The rain was beating heavily against the window as the silence stretched on.
“That’s Terry,” Vince said slowly, fear heavy in his voice.
Howard stared at the pages. Terry was, if possible, more disconcerting than Charlie. Where Charlie had been an amorphous blob, Terry had huge arms and legs, almost disproportionately huge compared to his stocky body. His head was uneven and bulbous, with a spiked motorcycle helmet perched precariously on top of it. He was carrying a large club in his purple hand and wearing a nasty scowl. He looked like an orangutan, if orangutans were hairless and purple with rough, snake-like skin. Howard very much did not want to meet Charlie's replacement.
“Did err,” Howard started nervously. He swallowed heavily and eyed the wastepaper basket before trying again. “Did he say what happened to Charlie?”
Vince shook his head, his eyes wide and worried looking. “No. Just that he was gone for good. But he said…” Vince frowned and bit his lip. Howard tried to not let his eyes linger on his friend’s mouth. “He said him and the crew are here to stay.”
Howard felt dread pool cold and heavy in his stomach. For all that it was a familiar feeling it still made him want to run and hide. Maybe start a new life. Perhaps Vince would come with him - they could change their names, become Harry Sun and Vinny Blanc (he could work on the names later once he and Vince were somewhere safe). Instead of suggesting that as an option, he forced himself to ask, “What's that mean?”
Vince shrugged a shoulder and continued to worry his bottom lip. “He just said they ain't leaving town until the whole thing’s under water.”
“Under water?” Howard repeated slowly. “How?”
“Charlie always made sure the band - you know, thunder and rain and lightening - that they didn't stay in one place too long.” He gestured vaguely. “He helped keep them in line, you know?”
Howard sighed heavily and sat down with thump. “And now they're not going to leave?”
Vince nodded slowly.
“We better find Naboo,” they said at the same time.
Howard couldn't help the little smile that tugged at his lips. The old double act magic was still there, even if was buried under the layers of tension that seemed to blanket them these days. They stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move towards Naboo’s bedroom.
It was still early, although it was hard to tell with the storm still raging outside, and it was possible that Naboo hadn't actually made it to bed yet. He was often out on ‘shaman business’ until the early morning. Shaman business was often indistinguishable from selling pot to the local ne'er do wells as far as Howard could see. But if he had made it to bed, he likely wouldn't appreciate being woken up. Neither of them moved for a long moment. But Howard was made of tougher stuff than Vince, who couldn't sit still for more than twenty seconds without the TV being on.
He narrowed his eyes and waited. Vince blinked and huffed theatrically.
“Fine,” he said, slouching towards Naboo’s door, “but you owe me.”
Howard grinned. It wasn't a difficult victory but he'd learned to take them where he could.
Vince knocked gently on the door, as though hoping he might not be heard. “Naboo?” he called gently.
The door was pulled open roughly a couple of moments later to reveal Naboo, topless but still inexplicably wearing his turban. “What?” His scowl wasn't inviting but that had never stopped Vince before.
“Alright Naboo?” Vince said with a grin and overly casual tone. “How's it going?”
“I'm trying to sleep, I've got a big one this weekend with the council.” He glowered again. “What have you ball bags done this time?”
Vince looked hurt, the effect was almost believable for a second before he gave in. “Charlie’s gone missing and the rain won't stop and we're all going to drown.”
Naboo sighed. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” Vince said. “He just never turned up last night and now he's been replaced.”
Naboo looked passed Vince and directly at Howard. “What did you do?”
Howard considered his options. On the one hand, Naboo and certainly Vince were going to be angry with him. On the other, he really didn't want everyone in London to drown or to spend any time with Terry. He looked out the window for a moment as the rain continued to pour down in an almost solid sheet of water.
“I ah,” he started and stopped when Vince's head snapped to him. He paused and licked his lips, wondering how to phrase what was to come next to create the minimal fallout. “I may have…”
“What did you do, Howard?” Vince demanded. His face was hard and angry already. He hated that expression.
There was a time when it would never have been turned on him. There was a time when it would have been directed at anyone who said anything bad about him. Not recently, of course. Recently it seemed reserved solely for Howard. The thought made him sad.
But he wasn't about to show it. Not with Naboo right there glowering like he'd expected all along for it to be his fault. Which wasn't fair. He couldn't help that these things always seemed to happen around him. He really rather wished they wouldn't. Not that that seemed to matter. The universe never seemed to care what he wanted. Well, it did, but only so it could ensure the exact opposite happened.
He resigned himself to a telling off and drew his shoulders back as he took a deep breath. “I may have written my own Charlie story after you fell asleep.”
“What?” Vince yelped as Naboo sighed heavily.
“Let me see it,” Naboo said, wearily.
Howard paused, but it was too late to back out now and he slowly edged to the wastepaper basket. He drew out the balled up paper and handed it to Naboo. Vince was peering over his shoulder with a deep frown as he unfolded it on the kitchen table.
“Howard you berk!” Vince shouted when he read the words. “How could you do that? Charlie's my friend!”
“I told you I didn't like him!” Howard replied desperately. The look on Vince's face made his insides squirm uncomfortably. But he was a man of action. A man like that didn't change his opinion just because of his friend’s big, hurt eyes. However blue and pretty they may be. Not that Howard found them pretty. He wouldn't notice things like that. And even if he did, they wouldn't make him feel like he'd done the wrong thing. “I said he was bad news and you wouldn't listen. You just kept inviting him over!”
“You're the one who won't never listen!” Vince shouted. “I told you he was alright. I told you that he had an important job. But you never listen. Just because you think I'm not as smart as you, doesn't mean I don't know some stuff.”
Howard felt guilty. He hated the feeling. It was hot, like shame, and so he did what any self-respecting Northern man does when he feels guilty about things beyond his control: he got angry. “I never said you didn't. But you could try talking to me, instead of posing with all your idiot friends and making it seem like you're as empty headed as they are!”
“At least I have friends!” Vince replied, taking a step toward him.
“I have friends!”
“Lester don't count, he's just a head!”
“And who’s fault is that?!”
“Oi!” Naboo shouted over the din. “Do you idiots mind? We've got a situation here.”
They took a moment longer to glare at each other before muttering, “Sorry Naboo,” in unison.
“Right,” he sighed. “Let's see what we got here. Bollo!”
There was some grunting before Bollo appeared in the kitchen, blinking and generally looking irritable. “What idiot Howard do now?” he asked when he came to a stop next to them.
Howard sighed heavily but didn't bothering arguing. He felt glumly resigned to his fate. Someone was going to have to do something awful to sort this mess out and he had a terrible feeling he knew who it was.
“Charlie’s gone missing because Howard wrote a new book and now we're all gonna die,” Vince said before glaring again at Howard.
“How was I meant to know it would actually work?” He burst out when they all stared at him angrily. “And even if I had, how could I have known something like this would happen?”
“Because this always happens when you're a tit!” Vince shouted.
Howard dimly thought there might be a point in there somewhere but there was no way he was ever going to admit it.
“Get the barometer would you, Howard?” Naboo said sharply before he could formulate an appropriately cutting response.
Howard considered refusing but he didn't want to be even further in the dog house. He trudged over to the fireplace feeling a bit sad and unsettled. Sometimes it seemed like he and Vince were close to something, like last night, when Vince would look at him with a fond and almost hopeful expression. And then other times, like now, it seemed further away than ever. He didn't know how to reach him any more. He was sure it used to be easy. Back at the zoo, it seemed there was nothing that could separate them. He missed those times desperately.
If only he had more to give. If he could just get his novel published or maybe get a record deal. Maybe then Vince would look at him like he did back then, like he was worth something, like Howard was really a man of action and not just a failed, old, jazz musician.
Or maybe it was just too late. Maybe Vince had just outgrown him; something Howard been waiting to happen since pretty much the day they met.
He tried stop that train of thought firmly at the station. He didn't need to get lost in those sorts of thoughts, not when they needed to sort out this current catastrophe. He plucked the barometer off the wall and took it back to where Naboo was fussing when some herbs and a pestle and mortar. He placed it down carefully on the table.
Naboo didn't acknowledge him, instead muttering something and throwing the powder onto the barometer. Nothing happened for a moment and then there was a loud crack and puff of smoke and the barometer set alight.
“Is that err,” Howard said into the resulting silence. “Is that a good sign or…?” He tried not to think about the beautiful carvings that were now just a smouldering pile of ash and twisted metal. He was worried he might have deserved that happening to one of his most prized possessions.
“This is some bad juju,” Naboo said slowly. “We’re going to need my other book. Bollo, go and get it.”
Bollo shook his head. “Bollo already took it to other shop.”
“Ah bloody hell,” Naboo said and glared at Bollo. “What you do that for? That's my most valuable book.”
Bollo shrugged. “It were with big pile of rubbish you said to palm off on Vince and Howard at new shop.”
“What's going on Naboo?” Vince cut in before they could get a good head of steam behind their bickering and there was no way to break them up.
“This is magical rain,” Naboo said, frowning out the window. “If we don't stop it, it'll flood the city. You two will need to go and get my book from the new shop.”
“Why us?” Howard said, knowing down to his toes that there was no getting out of it, but still hoping for a reprieve.
“Because I got shaman business that I can't miss and I better talk to the council about this mess before they find out themselves.”
“Fine, come on Vince,” Howard said shrugging and starting toward the door.
Vince didn't move to follow him and Howard’s stomach lurched alarmingly. Was Vince about to ditch him entirely? He paused, too afraid to ask in case he was rejected. He couldn't bear to hear the words out loud, no matter how often he'd dreamt or imagined them. He was used to it from everyone else, but he wasn't sure what he'd do if Vince actually left him.
“You too, Vince,” Naboo said firmly. “I'm not letting this moron loose on my new shop alone.”
“Fine,” Vince snapped, unfolding his arms and storming passed Howard and down the stairs, his boots stomping on each step as he went.
Naboo gave Howard a long suffering look. “And make it up to him, would you? He'll be unbearable otherwise.”
“If we're not all dead,” Bollo pointed out.
“If we're not all dead,” Naboo agreed.
“Thanks guys,” Howard said with as much sarcasm as he could muster before he hurried after Vince.
The rain was no less violent by the time he’d pulled on his coat and left the shop. The sky was dark, lit occasionally by flashes of light that were followed by ground-shaking rumbles of thunder much too quickly for Howard's liking. It might have been dusk, rather than well before lunch for all the sun was able to light the sky. He had to jog to catch Vince, despite his smaller strides.
“Hold up, little man,” he called when he was close enough.
Vince didn't acknowledge him, but did slow down before they reached the van. They were both drenched through by the time they were inside and Howard was turning the ignition. He turned the warm air on, hotter than he normally would, the way Vince liked it, hoping it might appease him a little. But if it did, he made no outward sign of it. He remained quiet, staring out the window for the entire journey. He barely even fussed with his hair, which was lying flat and wet against this forehead.
Howard tried not to let it bother him. But the bad mood seemed to creep under his skin. Truth was, he hated it when Vince was upset with him. It didn't happen very often, Vince's sunny disposition and short attention span generally meant he shrugged off bad moods and didn't carry grudges. That was Howard's thing. That was how they worked; it was their shtick. It wouldn't work if they were both grumpy old men.
“Come on, Vince,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “I didn't mean anything by it.”
“No,” Vince snapped. “You just meant to kill one of my friends.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds awful.” He couldn't help the note indignation that filtered into his voice.
“How would you put it then?” Vince asked, finally turning to look at him.
Howard wished he hadn't, his eyes were cold and hard. He didn't like having that expression turned on him. It made him feel vulnerable and hurt. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by the new shop looming up at them from out of the gloom.
It did not look appealing during a massive storm. It was old, with wooden beams and tiles on the roof. But it had a decrepit air that suggested a nice man from Transylvania might have recently purchased it.
As they pulled to a stop, the engine made a horrifying groaning noise and promptly began smoking.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Howard muttered as they juddered to a halt outside the shop. There was a moment of awful silence before flames leapt from the bonnet. They both made a mad scramble to get out of the van but luckily the rain was so heavy the flames spluttered and went out quickly.
Vince had his phone in his hand in a moment and was jabbing away at it. Howard scowled and was about to ask if now was really the time for a Facebook update when he spoke. “All the trains and tubes are cancelled ‘cause of the weather.” His tone was as a dark as the sky above them.
“Great,” Howard huffed. “Looks like we're stuck here.”
TBC
And good luck! @chagrinfalls, you're it!
Title: Halloween Special of DOOM 2017, part 2 Word Count: ~2,702
Warnings: none
Halloween Special of DOOM - part two
Howard’s eyes skittered over the pages, as though unwilling to take in the images. He caught flashes of purple and a spiked helmet before he closed his eyes tightly. He took a deep breath before slowly opening them again. The rain was beating heavily against the window as the silence stretched on.
“That’s Terry,” Vince said slowly, fear heavy in his voice.
Howard stared at the pages. Terry was, if possible, more disconcerting than Charlie. Where Charlie had been an amorphous blob, Terry had huge arms and legs, almost disproportionately huge compared to his stocky body. His head was uneven and bulbous, with a spiked motorcycle helmet perched precariously on top of it. He was carrying a large club in his purple hand and wearing a nasty scowl. He looked like an orangutan, if orangutans were hairless and purple with rough, snake-like skin. Howard very much did not want to meet Charlie's replacement.
“Did err,” Howard started nervously. He swallowed heavily and eyed the wastepaper basket before trying again. “Did he say what happened to Charlie?”
Vince shook his head, his eyes wide and worried looking. “No. Just that he was gone for good. But he said…” Vince frowned and bit his lip. Howard tried to not let his eyes linger on his friend’s mouth. “He said him and the crew are here to stay.”
Howard felt dread pool cold and heavy in his stomach. For all that it was a familiar feeling it still made him want to run and hide. Maybe start a new life. Perhaps Vince would come with him - they could change their names, become Harry Sun and Vinny Blanc (he could work on the names later once he and Vince were somewhere safe). Instead of suggesting that as an option, he forced himself to ask, “What's that mean?”
Vince shrugged a shoulder and continued to worry his bottom lip. “He just said they ain't leaving town until the whole thing’s under water.”
“Under water?” Howard repeated slowly. “How?”
“Charlie always made sure the band - you know, thunder and rain and lightening - that they didn't stay in one place too long.” He gestured vaguely. “He helped keep them in line, you know?”
Howard sighed heavily and sat down with thump. “And now they're not going to leave?”
Vince nodded slowly.
“We better find Naboo,” they said at the same time.
Howard couldn't help the little smile that tugged at his lips. The old double act magic was still there, even if was buried under the layers of tension that seemed to blanket them these days. They stared at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move towards Naboo’s bedroom.
It was still early, although it was hard to tell with the storm still raging outside, and it was possible that Naboo hadn't actually made it to bed yet. He was often out on ‘shaman business’ until the early morning. Shaman business was often indistinguishable from selling pot to the local ne'er do wells as far as Howard could see. But if he had made it to bed, he likely wouldn't appreciate being woken up. Neither of them moved for a long moment. But Howard was made of tougher stuff than Vince, who couldn't sit still for more than twenty seconds without the TV being on.
He narrowed his eyes and waited. Vince blinked and huffed theatrically.
“Fine,” he said, slouching towards Naboo’s door, “but you owe me.”
Howard grinned. It wasn't a difficult victory but he'd learned to take them where he could.
Vince knocked gently on the door, as though hoping he might not be heard. “Naboo?” he called gently.
The door was pulled open roughly a couple of moments later to reveal Naboo, topless but still inexplicably wearing his turban. “What?” His scowl wasn't inviting but that had never stopped Vince before.
“Alright Naboo?” Vince said with a grin and overly casual tone. “How's it going?”
“I'm trying to sleep, I've got a big one this weekend with the council.” He glowered again. “What have you ball bags done this time?”
Vince looked hurt, the effect was almost believable for a second before he gave in. “Charlie’s gone missing and the rain won't stop and we're all going to drown.”
Naboo sighed. “What happened?”
“Nothing!” Vince said. “He just never turned up last night and now he's been replaced.”
Naboo looked passed Vince and directly at Howard. “What did you do?”
Howard considered his options. On the one hand, Naboo and certainly Vince were going to be angry with him. On the other, he really didn't want everyone in London to drown or to spend any time with Terry. He looked out the window for a moment as the rain continued to pour down in an almost solid sheet of water.
“I ah,” he started and stopped when Vince's head snapped to him. He paused and licked his lips, wondering how to phrase what was to come next to create the minimal fallout. “I may have…”
“What did you do, Howard?” Vince demanded. His face was hard and angry already. He hated that expression.
There was a time when it would never have been turned on him. There was a time when it would have been directed at anyone who said anything bad about him. Not recently, of course. Recently it seemed reserved solely for Howard. The thought made him sad.
But he wasn't about to show it. Not with Naboo right there glowering like he'd expected all along for it to be his fault. Which wasn't fair. He couldn't help that these things always seemed to happen around him. He really rather wished they wouldn't. Not that that seemed to matter. The universe never seemed to care what he wanted. Well, it did, but only so it could ensure the exact opposite happened.
He resigned himself to a telling off and drew his shoulders back as he took a deep breath. “I may have written my own Charlie story after you fell asleep.”
“What?” Vince yelped as Naboo sighed heavily.
“Let me see it,” Naboo said, wearily.
Howard paused, but it was too late to back out now and he slowly edged to the wastepaper basket. He drew out the balled up paper and handed it to Naboo. Vince was peering over his shoulder with a deep frown as he unfolded it on the kitchen table.
“Howard you berk!” Vince shouted when he read the words. “How could you do that? Charlie's my friend!”
“I told you I didn't like him!” Howard replied desperately. The look on Vince's face made his insides squirm uncomfortably. But he was a man of action. A man like that didn't change his opinion just because of his friend’s big, hurt eyes. However blue and pretty they may be. Not that Howard found them pretty. He wouldn't notice things like that. And even if he did, they wouldn't make him feel like he'd done the wrong thing. “I said he was bad news and you wouldn't listen. You just kept inviting him over!”
“You're the one who won't never listen!” Vince shouted. “I told you he was alright. I told you that he had an important job. But you never listen. Just because you think I'm not as smart as you, doesn't mean I don't know some stuff.”
Howard felt guilty. He hated the feeling. It was hot, like shame, and so he did what any self-respecting Northern man does when he feels guilty about things beyond his control: he got angry. “I never said you didn't. But you could try talking to me, instead of posing with all your idiot friends and making it seem like you're as empty headed as they are!”
“At least I have friends!” Vince replied, taking a step toward him.
“I have friends!”
“Lester don't count, he's just a head!”
“And who’s fault is that?!”
“Oi!” Naboo shouted over the din. “Do you idiots mind? We've got a situation here.”
They took a moment longer to glare at each other before muttering, “Sorry Naboo,” in unison.
“Right,” he sighed. “Let's see what we got here. Bollo!”
There was some grunting before Bollo appeared in the kitchen, blinking and generally looking irritable. “What idiot Howard do now?” he asked when he came to a stop next to them.
Howard sighed heavily but didn't bothering arguing. He felt glumly resigned to his fate. Someone was going to have to do something awful to sort this mess out and he had a terrible feeling he knew who it was.
“Charlie’s gone missing because Howard wrote a new book and now we're all gonna die,” Vince said before glaring again at Howard.
“How was I meant to know it would actually work?” He burst out when they all stared at him angrily. “And even if I had, how could I have known something like this would happen?”
“Because this always happens when you're a tit!” Vince shouted.
Howard dimly thought there might be a point in there somewhere but there was no way he was ever going to admit it.
“Get the barometer would you, Howard?” Naboo said sharply before he could formulate an appropriately cutting response.
Howard considered refusing but he didn't want to be even further in the dog house. He trudged over to the fireplace feeling a bit sad and unsettled. Sometimes it seemed like he and Vince were close to something, like last night, when Vince would look at him with a fond and almost hopeful expression. And then other times, like now, it seemed further away than ever. He didn't know how to reach him any more. He was sure it used to be easy. Back at the zoo, it seemed there was nothing that could separate them. He missed those times desperately.
If only he had more to give. If he could just get his novel published or maybe get a record deal. Maybe then Vince would look at him like he did back then, like he was worth something, like Howard was really a man of action and not just a failed, old, jazz musician.
Or maybe it was just too late. Maybe Vince had just outgrown him; something Howard been waiting to happen since pretty much the day they met.
He tried stop that train of thought firmly at the station. He didn't need to get lost in those sorts of thoughts, not when they needed to sort out this current catastrophe. He plucked the barometer off the wall and took it back to where Naboo was fussing when some herbs and a pestle and mortar. He placed it down carefully on the table.
Naboo didn't acknowledge him, instead muttering something and throwing the powder onto the barometer. Nothing happened for a moment and then there was a loud crack and puff of smoke and the barometer set alight.
“Is that err,” Howard said into the resulting silence. “Is that a good sign or…?” He tried not to think about the beautiful carvings that were now just a smouldering pile of ash and twisted metal. He was worried he might have deserved that happening to one of his most prized possessions.
“This is some bad juju,” Naboo said slowly. “We’re going to need my other book. Bollo, go and get it.”
Bollo shook his head. “Bollo already took it to other shop.”
“Ah bloody hell,” Naboo said and glared at Bollo. “What you do that for? That's my most valuable book.”
Bollo shrugged. “It were with big pile of rubbish you said to palm off on Vince and Howard at new shop.”
“What's going on Naboo?” Vince cut in before they could get a good head of steam behind their bickering and there was no way to break them up.
“This is magical rain,” Naboo said, frowning out the window. “If we don't stop it, it'll flood the city. You two will need to go and get my book from the new shop.”
“Why us?” Howard said, knowing down to his toes that there was no getting out of it, but still hoping for a reprieve.
“Because I got shaman business that I can't miss and I better talk to the council about this mess before they find out themselves.”
“Fine, come on Vince,” Howard said shrugging and starting toward the door.
Vince didn't move to follow him and Howard’s stomach lurched alarmingly. Was Vince about to ditch him entirely? He paused, too afraid to ask in case he was rejected. He couldn't bear to hear the words out loud, no matter how often he'd dreamt or imagined them. He was used to it from everyone else, but he wasn't sure what he'd do if Vince actually left him.
“You too, Vince,” Naboo said firmly. “I'm not letting this moron loose on my new shop alone.”
“Fine,” Vince snapped, unfolding his arms and storming passed Howard and down the stairs, his boots stomping on each step as he went.
Naboo gave Howard a long suffering look. “And make it up to him, would you? He'll be unbearable otherwise.”
“If we're not all dead,” Bollo pointed out.
“If we're not all dead,” Naboo agreed.
“Thanks guys,” Howard said with as much sarcasm as he could muster before he hurried after Vince.
The rain was no less violent by the time he’d pulled on his coat and left the shop. The sky was dark, lit occasionally by flashes of light that were followed by ground-shaking rumbles of thunder much too quickly for Howard's liking. It might have been dusk, rather than well before lunch for all the sun was able to light the sky. He had to jog to catch Vince, despite his smaller strides.
“Hold up, little man,” he called when he was close enough.
Vince didn't acknowledge him, but did slow down before they reached the van. They were both drenched through by the time they were inside and Howard was turning the ignition. He turned the warm air on, hotter than he normally would, the way Vince liked it, hoping it might appease him a little. But if it did, he made no outward sign of it. He remained quiet, staring out the window for the entire journey. He barely even fussed with his hair, which was lying flat and wet against this forehead.
Howard tried not to let it bother him. But the bad mood seemed to creep under his skin. Truth was, he hated it when Vince was upset with him. It didn't happen very often, Vince's sunny disposition and short attention span generally meant he shrugged off bad moods and didn't carry grudges. That was Howard's thing. That was how they worked; it was their shtick. It wouldn't work if they were both grumpy old men.
“Come on, Vince,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “I didn't mean anything by it.”
“No,” Vince snapped. “You just meant to kill one of my friends.”
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds awful.” He couldn't help the note indignation that filtered into his voice.
“How would you put it then?” Vince asked, finally turning to look at him.
Howard wished he hadn't, his eyes were cold and hard. He didn't like having that expression turned on him. It made him feel vulnerable and hurt. Thankfully, he was saved from having to answer by the new shop looming up at them from out of the gloom.
It did not look appealing during a massive storm. It was old, with wooden beams and tiles on the roof. But it had a decrepit air that suggested a nice man from Transylvania might have recently purchased it.
As they pulled to a stop, the engine made a horrifying groaning noise and promptly began smoking.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Howard muttered as they juddered to a halt outside the shop. There was a moment of awful silence before flames leapt from the bonnet. They both made a mad scramble to get out of the van but luckily the rain was so heavy the flames spluttered and went out quickly.
Vince had his phone in his hand in a moment and was jabbing away at it. Howard scowled and was about to ask if now was really the time for a Facebook update when he spoke. “All the trains and tubes are cancelled ‘cause of the weather.” His tone was as a dark as the sky above them.
“Great,” Howard huffed. “Looks like we're stuck here.”
TBC