Cherry Vanilla 20
Author: Marina
Story: Shifts universe (Tremors)
Challenge: Cherry Vanilla 20 (tying off loose ends)
Toppings/Extras: Hot Fudge, Fresh Peaches (It’s a good time to meet with others to discuss business or other arrangements. Your increased communication and cooperative skills will make decisions easier than usual.)
Word Count: 865
Rating: PG
Summary: Rupert and Abraham discuss Plan B.
Notes: Also known as the Earlaham Origins. Very end of Tremors. One of two turning points in Abraham's character development that I'm posting tonight.
Abraham’s fingers shook a little as he opened the bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass. “You ought to put that away,” Rupert said, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs behind him.
“Am I not allowed to enjoy a Christmas present from a valued executive?” Abraham asked, somewhat rhetorically even though he knew his partner would answer regardless. “I have been saving this for a special moment.”
Rupert snorted. “Drowning your sorrows in liquor even once can spark a habit and turn you into a drunkard. That is unbefitting of the company president.”
Shooting him a halfhearted glare, Abraham took his glass to his desk and sat down. “We’ll have to inform his family,” he said.
“We will do nothing of the kind.”
He looked up from the amber liquid in surprise. “I did not mean we should tell them how, just that-"
“I know what you meant,” Rupert said calmly, “and I do not think it is necessary.”
“We’ll have to tell them something.”
“I see no reason to. Revealing that we know anything will only spark an investigation that we cannot afford, especially now that the Kopens are at large. If Oriana discusses my wife’s state of mortality with anyone-and I do not doubt that she will-we may have more than a small amount of trouble on our hands.”
Abraham nodded in understanding, taking a sip of his scotch. Rupert did intend to cover up whatever he could. Remembering the massive web of lies used to hide Joy’s return to the compound had left Abraham unsure why he would want to do otherwise, but it appeared that Rupert merely had a different plan in mind than the obvious. “What do you intend to do?”
“I will arrange to send Ellen to a high-security boarding school at the fall term. I always intended to do this, but recent developments have made it imperative that I do so.” Rupert leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together deliberately. “Joy will not attempt to escape without her, and I do not intend to tell her where the school is or when she will return.”
“What you do with your household is your own business,” Abraham said, after an expectant silence. He hid his frown.
Seemingly satisfied, Rupert went on. “As for our late employee, he informed me that the Kopens do not know that he assisted their escape.”
“How does that help us?”
“We can use this in a number of ways. As of now, his identity is under the radar, so to speak.”
At this, Abraham openly frowned. “Yes, and I’m certain it will stay that way unless the two of us do something to bring it into the open.”
“We may yet.” Rupert paused, studying him closely. Abraham almost squirmed for the first time in many years. “I was thinking,” Rupert said slowly, “that he could be a more than adequate disguise for you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We will have to chase down the Kopens as quietly as possible. He was younger and more agile than you are. If we do it ourselves, we will call more attention to the operation than is necessary. He could do it far more unobtrusively.”
Abraham blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “He is dead, Rupert.”
“I do not see the problem.”
“I can’t assume the form of a dead man.”
“Cannot, or will not?” Rupert asked, eyebrows raised slightly. “Have you ever tried?”
Abraham considered lying for a brief moment, but Rupert had known him too long to be fooled. “I haven’t.”
Rupert rose from his chair and indicated that Abraham should do the same. “I believe you underestimate your abilities.”
He did not agree, but he closed his eyes and attempted it anyway, focusing on the memory of the man they had buried in the garden just hours before. The familiar tingle that indicated the changes of his body spread over him right away, shocking him. “Keep going,” Rupert ordered. Abraham frowned and completed the transformation. “Now look at me.” He lifted his head. Rupert reached over and removed his sunglasses. “Your eyes are still orange, not that this surprises me,” he said, “but other than that, you have achieved an excellent reproduction. Come and see for yourself.”
Abraham hesitantly crossed the room to stand in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of his office door, and abruptly came face-to-face with the spitting image of Earl Johnson. His blond, thinning hair, fair skin, and wrinkles had disappeared. Earl’s thick, dark curls, aquiline nose, sharp features, and accusing gaze bored into his brain, made all the more effective by the brilliant orange irises peering out of his sockets.
He hurriedly reassumed his own body and went back to his chair.
“You can do it,” Rupert said, so pleased that he almost smiled. “I thought as much. It is a perfect disguise, is it not? As he is not alive, he cannot appear anywhere unexpectedly to contradict anything.”
“No, he can’t,” Abraham said softly. He numbly reached for his scotch glass, but Rupert snatched it away. This time, he did not bother arguing.
Story: Shifts universe (Tremors)
Challenge: Cherry Vanilla 20 (tying off loose ends)
Toppings/Extras: Hot Fudge, Fresh Peaches (It’s a good time to meet with others to discuss business or other arrangements. Your increased communication and cooperative skills will make decisions easier than usual.)
Word Count: 865
Rating: PG
Summary: Rupert and Abraham discuss Plan B.
Notes: Also known as the Earlaham Origins. Very end of Tremors. One of two turning points in Abraham's character development that I'm posting tonight.
Abraham’s fingers shook a little as he opened the bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass. “You ought to put that away,” Rupert said, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs behind him.
“Am I not allowed to enjoy a Christmas present from a valued executive?” Abraham asked, somewhat rhetorically even though he knew his partner would answer regardless. “I have been saving this for a special moment.”
Rupert snorted. “Drowning your sorrows in liquor even once can spark a habit and turn you into a drunkard. That is unbefitting of the company president.”
Shooting him a halfhearted glare, Abraham took his glass to his desk and sat down. “We’ll have to inform his family,” he said.
“We will do nothing of the kind.”
He looked up from the amber liquid in surprise. “I did not mean we should tell them how, just that-"
“I know what you meant,” Rupert said calmly, “and I do not think it is necessary.”
“We’ll have to tell them something.”
“I see no reason to. Revealing that we know anything will only spark an investigation that we cannot afford, especially now that the Kopens are at large. If Oriana discusses my wife’s state of mortality with anyone-and I do not doubt that she will-we may have more than a small amount of trouble on our hands.”
Abraham nodded in understanding, taking a sip of his scotch. Rupert did intend to cover up whatever he could. Remembering the massive web of lies used to hide Joy’s return to the compound had left Abraham unsure why he would want to do otherwise, but it appeared that Rupert merely had a different plan in mind than the obvious. “What do you intend to do?”
“I will arrange to send Ellen to a high-security boarding school at the fall term. I always intended to do this, but recent developments have made it imperative that I do so.” Rupert leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together deliberately. “Joy will not attempt to escape without her, and I do not intend to tell her where the school is or when she will return.”
“What you do with your household is your own business,” Abraham said, after an expectant silence. He hid his frown.
Seemingly satisfied, Rupert went on. “As for our late employee, he informed me that the Kopens do not know that he assisted their escape.”
“How does that help us?”
“We can use this in a number of ways. As of now, his identity is under the radar, so to speak.”
At this, Abraham openly frowned. “Yes, and I’m certain it will stay that way unless the two of us do something to bring it into the open.”
“We may yet.” Rupert paused, studying him closely. Abraham almost squirmed for the first time in many years. “I was thinking,” Rupert said slowly, “that he could be a more than adequate disguise for you.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“We will have to chase down the Kopens as quietly as possible. He was younger and more agile than you are. If we do it ourselves, we will call more attention to the operation than is necessary. He could do it far more unobtrusively.”
Abraham blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “He is dead, Rupert.”
“I do not see the problem.”
“I can’t assume the form of a dead man.”
“Cannot, or will not?” Rupert asked, eyebrows raised slightly. “Have you ever tried?”
Abraham considered lying for a brief moment, but Rupert had known him too long to be fooled. “I haven’t.”
Rupert rose from his chair and indicated that Abraham should do the same. “I believe you underestimate your abilities.”
He did not agree, but he closed his eyes and attempted it anyway, focusing on the memory of the man they had buried in the garden just hours before. The familiar tingle that indicated the changes of his body spread over him right away, shocking him. “Keep going,” Rupert ordered. Abraham frowned and completed the transformation. “Now look at me.” He lifted his head. Rupert reached over and removed his sunglasses. “Your eyes are still orange, not that this surprises me,” he said, “but other than that, you have achieved an excellent reproduction. Come and see for yourself.”
Abraham hesitantly crossed the room to stand in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the back of his office door, and abruptly came face-to-face with the spitting image of Earl Johnson. His blond, thinning hair, fair skin, and wrinkles had disappeared. Earl’s thick, dark curls, aquiline nose, sharp features, and accusing gaze bored into his brain, made all the more effective by the brilliant orange irises peering out of his sockets.
He hurriedly reassumed his own body and went back to his chair.
“You can do it,” Rupert said, so pleased that he almost smiled. “I thought as much. It is a perfect disguise, is it not? As he is not alive, he cannot appear anywhere unexpectedly to contradict anything.”
“No, he can’t,” Abraham said softly. He numbly reached for his scotch glass, but Rupert snatched it away. This time, he did not bother arguing.