Disclaimer: …. YOU SHOULD KNOW I DON'T OWN IT! It makes me cry…

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I don't have anything against Germans. Just Nazis. If anyone is offended, well, why are you reading Indiana Jonesstuff? Not exactly pro-Nazi.

This is a short chapter. It represents the progress of the puzzle I'm putting together in my head. I call the puzzle "the Plot." It also represents the amazingly fulfilling chapter I just wrote on my other story, The Truth of all Demons. (hint hint)

CHAPTER TWO

Joanna had to stretch at the seat's safety belt to see Professor Jones over the man's expansive stomach. He kept glancing up at her from behind his magazine, too. She pulled the seatbelts to their greatest length, and held her neck as far out as she could, but even when the man exhaled (his mountainous, hard, lumpy midsection rose and fell with every wheeze; it reminded her of the hopping movement of the plane as it took off) all she could make out were the pinned hairstyles of the rest of the girls in the row, also staring at the Professor's seat. Joanna sat back and pushed her glasses up her nose.

Soon enough the rest of the class settled into their seats and began to fall asleep. Joanna took the opportunity and pulled away from the back of her chair again. Rise… Fall… Skid-skip Rise… Fall… She lifted away from the cushion. The famed archeologist had a battered fedora pulled over his eyes. His suitcase was under – Rise – his brown suitcase was under his feet. Joanna stared at him.

She had been so surprised to find that the teacher of the Archeology class was the world-renowned Henry Jones, Jr. That man in the hat, the man that misspelled words on the chalkboard and peered thoughtfully at the world through those big eyeglasses, was the same archeologist that, through years of study and planning, had discovered the Ark of the Covenant! That man had collected hundreds of artifacts – and how? Joanna thought she knew. Joanna did know: Professor Jones was an intellectual, a cautious man who thought things through before acting, who would have been a loving and nurturing father to any daughter he might have had. He wouldn't have made her scrape for an education.

The fat man finally seemed asleep. The rise and fall of his belly was even deeper than before. Joanna finally let herself drift off.


Dietzbruck had to pretend to be asleep to get the annoying girl to stop leaning over him. When he was sure every passenger he could see was unconscious, he whistled quietly. After a few moments, he was rewarded by five more whistles; he gripped his coat around his body and stood at the same time as the rest of his squad of spies. Untucking his shirt, he distributed several guns to the men. The clothes didn't fit him without the firearms underneath them. At a gesture from him, two men slithered to the door to the cockpit; the rest pulled on parachutes before spreading around the seats filled with Americans. One more whistle, and the guns were cocked and aimed. One more whistle, and the job would be done.

The professor murmured in his sleep.

END OF CHAPTER TWO

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