Another chapter, another dollar. Well, except I don't get paid for doing this. That was my attempt at a joke, as it were.
Now, review replies!
TweenisodeOrange: I feel sorry for Danny too...it only gets worse from here.
unknown20troper: I have a feeling Danny and M.E.R.F. will have a difference of opinion soon enough...
OddAuthor: I'm glad I managed to chill someone with that line - I only just thought of that the day before writing.
And to all, thanks very much for reading and reviewing!
Chapter Fourteen: Burlington Northern Santa Fe
Timmy Turner and Remy Buxaplenty.
Day Three – 08:00 US Central Standard Time.
Half an Hour out of Fort Worth, Texas.
"…so what you are saying," finished Remy, "Is that your fairy godmother changed sides, but might still have been in Fairy World when it exploded, and both our fairy godfathers have been dragged by Jorgen to a barn in the middle of Mississippi?"
"Yep, that's pretty much it," shrugged Timmy.
He had not, of course, been speaking for the six hours it took the train to get to its current position. In fact, the first thing he'd done was pass out from exhaustion. Remy had let him sleep for four hours, and then he had woken him up and ordered him to explain everything that had happened thus far.
"Well, looks like we're going to Mississippi then," nodded Remy, "How do you suppose we'll find this barn, Turner?"
"Crocker's tracker," replied Timmy, pulling it out of his pocket.
"Hmm…maybe you're not as stupid as I remembered you were…" mused Remy.
"Knock it off," growled Timmy, "Like it or not, we're the only two people who can find the fairies. If we're gonna do that, we need to let bygones be bygones…"
"…and work together, I know," sighed Remy, "Bear in mind this is a truce, not peace."
"Sure thing," grinned Timmy, "Us becoming friends would just be weird."
The two sat for a moment.
"So…how do we get to Mississippi?" asked Timmy at last.
"Simple," replied Remy, "We're going to acquire transport."
He opened the door to the car, allowing bright sunlight to flood inside.
"I intend to bribe the driver handsomely to drive us there," he explained, pulling out his wallet, "To do so, we need to get to the engine…"
AJ Ibrehim.
Day Three – 08:00 US Central Standard Time.
Unidentified Location, USA.
AJ sat in his cell - a nice clean white one with a bullet-proof glass door – and listened to the Director and two people he could not identify talking in the cell next door.
"Do you know why we hunt your son, Morgan?" he asked.
"Do you know who I am?" snapped the first prisoner, in a distinct upper-class British accent, "I can you shut down…"
"No you can't, we're the government," replied the Director, "Anyway, why we hunt your son. Can you remember his name?"
Silence.
"You two are more deplorable then the Turners," the Director snarled, "We hunt your son because he has access to a being of considerable power…one of at least three to four thousand in the Confines of the United States. Sound huge…until you remember that there are more then three hundred million Americans."
"What is your point?" shouted the second prisoner – a woman this time – with her own high-class accent, "What does this have to do with taking us prisoner?"
"Simple," replied the Director, matter-of-factly, "Your son is ten. He has access to a being more powerful then anything on Earth. Think about that – what if he decided to use that power to enforce his rules – his way of life – on other people."
He chuckled.
"We can't let that happen. So we decided that four thousand – well – if they…vanished overnight…no-one would care. That is why we hunt your son, Morgan and Vanessa Buxaplenty…and that's why you cannot leave."
There was a clicking noise.
"Ever."
Timmy Turner and Remy Buxaplenty.
Day Three – 08:05 Central Standard Time.
Twenty Five Minutes out of Fort Worth, Texas.
Timmy had never attempted to balance atop a train going at fifty-five before. Another first for this week.
"Come on, Turner!" Remy yelled impatiently, jumping from one wagon to the next.
"You act like you've done this before!" Timmy called back.
"Well, how do you think I escaped F.U.N.?" grinned Remy, "The engine isn't too far, keep up!"
Timmy rolled his eyes.
"OK, you're insane," he decided.
"Am I, Turner?" replied Remy, "Well it doesn't matter, I'm rich. Nothing else really matters when you're rich!"
Timmy was reminded – once again – why he and Remy were enemies.
Presently, they reached the head engine of the train. There were in fact three, all orange-painted diesels of the Burlington Northern & Santa Fe Railroad. Remy grabbed the ladder next to the cab and started to climb down.
"Follow my lead, Turner," he instructed.
"Whatever you say, Buxaplenty," retorted Timmy.
Remy reached the catwalk on the side of the locomotive and waited for Timmy to climb down himself, before easing open the door.
The driver looked towards them, surprised.
"How the heck did you kids get in here?" he demanded.
Remy pulled out several bills out of his wallet.
"Do you want to question that, or do you want to drive us to Mississippi?"
The driver looked at the money for a second.
"Where in Mississippi?" he asked.
Remy looked at Timmy, who looked at the tracker.
"Mississippi River," replied Timmy, "It's…sorta to the north."
Remy looked at the tracker, sighing heavily. He showed the driver the tracker screen.
"Can you take us to this dot?" he asked.
"A few miles south of there, yep," nodded the driver, "You'll have to continue on your own after that."
"Good," grinned Remy, handing over the bills, "Pleasure doing business."
Freakshow (Frederick Isak Showsenhower).
Day Three – 08:59 US Central Standard Time.
Old Gulch, rural Texas.
Freakshow watched as the long freight clattered past the small village, before heading back to his own gothic-styled circus train. He told the two ghost crewmen to follow on after the freight, before boarding himself.
His servant, Lydia, looked at him, as if expecting an explanation of some sort.
"Don't worry, Lydia," Freakshow grinned, "The targets the Feds want us to get just passed. All we have to do now is follow…"
He grinned darkly.