Disclaimer: ( see disclaimer, previous chapter )
Indiana Jones and the Shadow of Death
III
Indy sat at the kitchen table amidst a toppled stack of term papers. He pushed away the mug of black coffee he'd been drinking and leaned back in his chair, staring at the steam. The black liquid swirling in the cup was much like Indy's mind: a cloudy turmoil. He had nearly lost his capability for rational thought.
"It doesn't make any sense. . ." the puzzled archaeologist muttered beneath his breath. She may be spontaneous, but she's not crazy.
Indy squinted at a crumpled note that lay atop the other papers - reason enough that he hadn't been grading anything. Clenching his jaw in thought, the archaeologist ran his fingers over Marion's handwriting. Smoothing out the paper, he read it more slowly this time, hoping to pick up whatever minute details his eyes could have missed.
Catching a plane? It still sounded foreign. The words went sluggishly through his mind, and Indy shook his head, disbelieving. No, Marion hasn't said anything about leaving in the whole time she's been here. I would have remembered. . . She wouldn't leave me in the dark on this, either, would she? He sighed, a sharp exhalation. Something didn't add up.
Taking the note, Indy stood and moved toward the door, wearing an expression halfway between confusion and resolve. Slipping his arms hurriedly into his jacket, Indy paused with one hand on the doorknob.
He knew he had to do something to find her, but was this too rash? Maybe he should stay and try to figure out more of this before just running out after her like some kind of hot-blooded kid. Indy instantly decided against staying, knowing it wouldn't achieve anything besides rattled nerves and wasted time. Marion was right. This Jones wasn't made to sit around.