THE NIGHT OF THE ICE COLD DEATH

By Andamogirl

WWW

ACT FOUR

Part one

Slumped against a wall, Jim opened his eyes and his first reaction was to look at his side to see if Artemus was there – he wasn't on his right.

But he was on his left.

His best friend was lying on his side, still unconscious – and breathing.

He sighed in relief and shook his partner's shoulder, grinning happily. "Artie, wake up buddy!" He glanced around him while Artie was rousing. They were back in Loveless's hideout, outside the misty void portal-between-two-dimensions-room he noticed and the room was empty.. "Come on, Artie! You're sleeping on the job instead of working."

Opening his eyes in his turn, Artie immediately took his pulse. "I'm alive…" He pulled himself into a sitting position and glanced around him too. "And we're back. Mission accomplished. But what did we do…?"

Raising his hand, Jim said, "I know what we did, or rather what you did. Those people in that ice-age needed new sophisticated tools, such as spears with a super solid, sharp point, with two cutting edges, to be able to kill more animals, bigger animals and thus be better fed, and thus be able to live better, longer and thus prosper. You brought them this new technique to make spearheads Artie – that was it!" He stood and pulled Artie up to his feet and asked, "How do you feel?"

Smiling Artie said, "Then you believe me!" and Jim nodded. "We were on a mission – your mission was to protect me from the ice-cold in that small hole in the rocks, saving my life, and I showed Araj-iit-olk how to make a perfect and deadly flint spearhead. That was my mission, you're right… I don't see what else it could be… I didn't do anything potentially useful there…"

Jim smirked and said, "Aside from letting that lovely lady how do you call her? Nee-at-tepo... touch your butt? Neither do I, Artie."

Glaring at his best friend Artie let out, "Ha-ha-ha! Very funny…" Then he pointed at the opposite door. "Let's get out of here, we have an assignment to carry out."

WWW

But the place was deserted – or almost.

The two special agents of the Secret Service found one man in Loveless's 'office', packing his things. Jim had him pinned to the floor, with a knee pressed on his chest, before he could reach for his gun.

He gave it to Artemus and asked the goon, "Where is everyone?"

Pointing the Colt at one of Loveless's henchmen, Artie growled. "Talk! I died a few moments ago and I am in a pretty bad mood!"

The man shook his head. "Loveless is going to kill me…"

Hearing his partner pull back the hammer of the gun, Jim said, "My partner here is going to kill you first. He had a bad day…"

His face like carved marble Artie nodded. "Yes, after a series of other bad days." He placed the mouth of the gun against the goon's nose. "I won't repeat it," he said, his voice cold.

The man sighed, capitulating. "Okay, they're in Phoenix. Then they will head to Washington. Dr. Loveless and Colonel Vautrain have a rendezvous in the Capital… with a man called Erikson, in a saloon not far from the railroad station, the Golden Spike. I have to bring the last of Dr. Loveless's belongings to him there. That's all I know, I swear. Please don't kill me…"

Rubbing his stubbled chin pensively, Artie said, "By the time we arrived in Phoenix, they will have taken the train to Washington… Let them go there. I want to know who this Erikson is and what Loveless and Vautrain have planned to do with him…"

Standing, Jim nodded. "Good idea…" and watching his best friend observe Loveless's blond, bearded henchman he knew he was thinking about disguising himself to look exactly like the goon. He asked the other man, "What's your name?"

The goon responded, "Harry Grahams.

Glancing at Artie Jim said, "Then Mr. Grahams… please continue what you were doing, packing your boss's belongings – but you won't take them to him – my partner will."

Grahams frowned. "But Dr. Loveless will see it's not me."

Smiling Artie said, "No he won't."

Grahams frowned, lost.

Looking at Loveless's clothes Grahams was packing into two big bags, Jim suddenly realized something, "Do you know where our clothes are?"

The henchman nodded. "Dr. Loveless asked me to pack them, along with your hats and gunbelts. He brought them with him. He told me he wanted to keep them as 'trophies'".

Re-adjusting the animal hide hiding his naked body, Artie asked, "Tell me do you have a buckboard and not only one horse…?"

Grahams nodded. "I have a buckboard… but no clothes for you."

Jim said, "When you are finished here, you'll lead us out of here, and once in Phoenix, I'll have you placed incommunicado in detention there, at Fort Sheffield. Dr. Loveless won't know where you are and you will be safe there, until he is behind bars."

WWW

Much later

On board the Wanderer

En route to Washington

Showered, hair still a bit wet, but neatly combed and dressed in his navy blue bathrobe, Jim was leaving the bathroom to head toward the galley, AG perched on top of his shoulder, when he saw Marmalade sitting in the narrow walkway before her owner's door.

She was scratching at it, wanting to enter the small room, meowing in worry.

He frowned in concern, something was wrong… and then he heard the first notes of music – coming from an Indian flute.

His concern mutated into worry. He knew that when Artie was playing his flute instead of his violin, he was in a bad mood or unhappy and sad. It helped him to relax, to feel better. He could spend hours in the galley preparing all kind of delicious things too, but not today.

He knocked at the door. "Artie, you okay in there?"

No response. "Can I come in?"

The music continued. He knocked again, and Artemus didn't stop playing his flute. Deeply worried, Jim decided to enter.

The door wasn't locked.

Marmie immediately dashed inside.

Jim found his best friend dressed in his pajamas, sitting cross-legged on the floor of his sleeping compartment, on a blanket. His hair was sticking out, he was pale and his eyes were closed.

Marmalade leaped on her owner's lap and Artie lowered his flute and opened his eyes. "Good morning, Jim," he said looking up.

Noticing that the bed was a mess before sitting on it, he said "Good morning Artie. Let me guess, you had very bad nightmares."

Petting his cat's back, eliciting loud purrs, Artie nodded. "I was plagued by nightmares all night long… it's a normal thing after what happened to me. I died saving the President's life – but didn't, I was tortured, I almost died from exposure in that glass box, I died from a heart attack – and was brought back… My nerves are shattered. I need to relax."

Furrowing his brow Jim said, "I didn't hear you last night… I usually do when you have a nightmare. The partition is not thick between our beds."

Smiling sheepishly, Artie said, "Maybe it has something to do with the sedative I put in your coffee last night. I knew I would have horrible dreams and I didn't want you to stay at my side all my night long, mother-henning me, deeply worried and not sleeping because of me. You have had enough action too, Jim, and you needed rest. I'm sorry. But it was the only solution."

Upset Jim raised a threatening finger. "Don't ever do that again! It is normal that I worry about you and that I take care of you when you are unwell, you are my partner and my best friend, and…" He stopped when he saw tears appear in Artie's red-rimmed eyes. "It is not because of what I told you that you are shaken, right? What did you see in your nightmares?"

Feeling her owner's distress Marmalade raised herself on her hind legs, resting her front legs on Artie's chest and licked his chin.

He took her in his arms and she snuggled there, purring. "I only remember a few images… My mom was standing beside my open grave. She was watching my coffin; laid at the bottom of the hole… she was crying her eyes out in Harry's arms. I was lying inside my coffin – alive – and screaming, "I'm back! I'm back! Please help me!" but no one could her me. Then… somehow I managed to break the lid with my bleeding fists, and as I was leaving my grave... My mom collapsed to the ground, dead of a broken heart…" Tears were now running freely down his pale cheeks. He closed his eyes. "I have never been so utterly bereft in my whole life ... no, I have already been, after my father's death. I adored my dad. I miss him so much…"

Placing a soothing hand on his best friend's shoulder, pressing it, Jim said, "I know. It was just a very bad dream, Artie. Helena's fine."

He nodded. "I know. I hope she will never have to live this, I know she would die." He mopped his tears with the back of his sleeve.

Placing AG on Artie's lap, Jim watched the kitten climb on Marmie's back before sneaking between Artie's pajama jacket and his skin.

The mini feline poked his head between two buttons, meowed, claiming the place as his and then started his exploration, moving from Artemus's belly to his side. Then he began to he climb the broad back, using his needle-like claws- making Artie wince.

Smiling Artemus took off his stripped pajamas top before scooping up AG who had reached his shoulder. "Come here little furry buddy…" then he kissed the cat's tiny black nose and placed the ball of fluff on top of his head, where the mini cat loved to be. Pleased, AG made his 'nest' there and started purring. He smiled. "Nothing is better than playing with a cat to cheer up you…"

Petting his cat between his ears, Jim nodded. "I agree." He stood and added, "Stay here playing with the cats, I'm going to prepare breakfast."

Falsely irritated, Artie said, "Are you trying to kill me too Jim? I died far too many times already. No, I'm going to prepare breakfast." He scooped AG from his head and lowered him to his chest – before the kitten slipped inside his pajama top, again. "It will help me to relax."

Tbc.