Chapter Three
~~~~~*~~~~~
"Meow!"
Thump!
"Good morning Chicago! It's 6:30 AM here in the frosty city!.
Wake up you sleepy..."
"Whack!!
Clatter!
((Rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle!!!))
From beneath the covers an arm extended flailing about wildly until it made contact with it's target- the clock radio, swiping it across the floor.
Radio silenced, Gary slid deeper beneath his warm blankets. "Five more minutes," he murmured drowsily, " just fi..mor..."
"Meow!" Cat purred again. Outside of the door, he waited patiently to be let in. Beneath him lay the paper, still damp from the night's rain. Cat was confident that the door would open, just like it did every morning for the past three years and his grumpy master would appear. He ignored his master's tone and facial grimace he sometimes received because he knew his master's heart. Licking his front paws, Cat waited.
A few minutes later, the door opened and a frumpled hair'd Gary stood, clad in blue checkered boxers and tee shirt. Ignoring him Cat pranced nonchalantly past him into the apartment with Gary's irritated glare following. He paused briefly to survey the shattered alarm clock which was, amazingly, still ticking, but now lay scattered in pieces, across the bedroom floor.
Inventory completed, Cat strolled over to Gary's bed then leaped gracefully onto it and curled up into a comfortable fluffy yellow ball.
Gary had watched Cat's idle manner as he strolled into his apartment and it irritated him that he would make himself at home at the foot of his bed. Feeling grumpy, Gary wanted to chastise him for being on the furniture again, but was resolved to the fact that it was useless trying to argue with a cat. Shaking his head, he bent down to pick up the paper. He thought about the man at the resturaunt. It had been a couple of days since he had taken Mr. Norse home, and with the big lie that he had told about knowing his doctor, Gary hoped to never cross paths with him again. Mr. Norse's fidelity, or lack there of, was another story. Since then, there had been no other incidents of that type of shooting, he only hoped today would be no different.
'Woman Killed by Train,' the headline blared. Gary rose slowly, his eyes fixed on the article. Reading silently, he retreated back into his apartment and closed the door quietly.
'April Chandler 28, was killed at approximately 9:15AM yesterday morning, when the tiny car she was driving became lodge on the railroad tracks between Harlem and Winsor Ave. Due possibly to the heavy rain fall from the night before, police say the tires on her black Volkswagen Beetle, somehow became lodged in the sticky mud and tar on the tracks just as the East bound train roared past, killing her instantly. Witnesses say that she had just left Macy's Department store on West 35th St. On lookers at the scene say that she seemed to have ignored the flashing railroad signals as if trying to beat the train.'
Laying the paper aside, Gary glanced down at the shattered clock. Tilting his head slightly he could still make out the time.
6:45 AM
Gary knew that the morning commute would be heavy, and traffic backed up.
In order to make it there on time to save the young woman, he'd have to leave right away. As usual there was no time for breakfast. Grabbing the milk carton from the fridge, he headed quickly for the shower.
To be continued..............
~~~~~*~~~~~
"Meow!"
Thump!
"Good morning Chicago! It's 6:30 AM here in the frosty city!.
Wake up you sleepy..."
"Whack!!
Clatter!
((Rattle-rattle-rattle-rattle!!!))
From beneath the covers an arm extended flailing about wildly until it made contact with it's target- the clock radio, swiping it across the floor.
Radio silenced, Gary slid deeper beneath his warm blankets. "Five more minutes," he murmured drowsily, " just fi..mor..."
"Meow!" Cat purred again. Outside of the door, he waited patiently to be let in. Beneath him lay the paper, still damp from the night's rain. Cat was confident that the door would open, just like it did every morning for the past three years and his grumpy master would appear. He ignored his master's tone and facial grimace he sometimes received because he knew his master's heart. Licking his front paws, Cat waited.
A few minutes later, the door opened and a frumpled hair'd Gary stood, clad in blue checkered boxers and tee shirt. Ignoring him Cat pranced nonchalantly past him into the apartment with Gary's irritated glare following. He paused briefly to survey the shattered alarm clock which was, amazingly, still ticking, but now lay scattered in pieces, across the bedroom floor.
Inventory completed, Cat strolled over to Gary's bed then leaped gracefully onto it and curled up into a comfortable fluffy yellow ball.
Gary had watched Cat's idle manner as he strolled into his apartment and it irritated him that he would make himself at home at the foot of his bed. Feeling grumpy, Gary wanted to chastise him for being on the furniture again, but was resolved to the fact that it was useless trying to argue with a cat. Shaking his head, he bent down to pick up the paper. He thought about the man at the resturaunt. It had been a couple of days since he had taken Mr. Norse home, and with the big lie that he had told about knowing his doctor, Gary hoped to never cross paths with him again. Mr. Norse's fidelity, or lack there of, was another story. Since then, there had been no other incidents of that type of shooting, he only hoped today would be no different.
'Woman Killed by Train,' the headline blared. Gary rose slowly, his eyes fixed on the article. Reading silently, he retreated back into his apartment and closed the door quietly.
'April Chandler 28, was killed at approximately 9:15AM yesterday morning, when the tiny car she was driving became lodge on the railroad tracks between Harlem and Winsor Ave. Due possibly to the heavy rain fall from the night before, police say the tires on her black Volkswagen Beetle, somehow became lodged in the sticky mud and tar on the tracks just as the East bound train roared past, killing her instantly. Witnesses say that she had just left Macy's Department store on West 35th St. On lookers at the scene say that she seemed to have ignored the flashing railroad signals as if trying to beat the train.'
Laying the paper aside, Gary glanced down at the shattered clock. Tilting his head slightly he could still make out the time.
6:45 AM
Gary knew that the morning commute would be heavy, and traffic backed up.
In order to make it there on time to save the young woman, he'd have to leave right away. As usual there was no time for breakfast. Grabbing the milk carton from the fridge, he headed quickly for the shower.
To be continued..............