Wow! You guys know your Shakespeare! I sit though high school English classes and when the teacher as much as says "Shakespeare," the class breaks out into moans and groans. My readers, you love of Shakespeare and your knowledge of it has restored some of my faith in humanity.
Oh, and I would like to apologize to Billy Mays (RIP). It took me five chapters to realize that him, and my antagonist share the same last name. Dr. Mays is not meant to be Billy Mays. Heck, I cried when Billy Mays died. Sorry Billy!
I'm a gamer and I planted a pretty blatant nugget for that. If you see it, let me know!
Enjoy this newest chapter!
B&B
Day 22
B&B
"We need those materials…I don't see how they could be in such demand…yes…this is the only major anthropological dig…this is much larger than the excavation in Honduras…practically micro…" Brennan drawled on, the phone clutched between her jaw and shoulder.
Keith Merrill stepped into the hut that functioned as the communications center, "Is this a bad time?" he mouthed.
"Hold on," she said into the receiver, muffling it into her chest. "What is it Keith?"
"A bunch of anthropological societies are here to visit the site."
"What constitutes a 'bunch' of them?"
"I'll warn you, it's a mouthful."
"Go on."
"American Anthropological Association, Anthropological Society of London, and Evolutionary Anthropology Society of the American Anthropological Association…can I just use the acronyms next time?
Brennan held the phone back up to her ear, "Just get me the equipment," she snapped into the receiver, hanging up. "Acronyms are acceptable next time. Weren't representatives from those societies supposed to visit one by one in the upcoming months?"
"I thought so too, but they're here and they want to see the remains."
"Brennan!" Dr. Ian Mikel ran (as well as he could for a physically-unwell, middle-aged man) over to the pair. "Dr. Mays is ready to leave when the societies leave later this evening. The AAA guy said that they didn't want to bother us more than necessary."
"What did you say about Mays?" Merrill asked in confusion.
"Dr. Curtis Mays is being removed from the team," Brennan responded.
"You're kidding."
"Nope," she smiled.
"Why? Not that I'm sad to see him go or anything…"
"Psychological instability."
"That's awesome!"
"But what do we do about the group of anthropologists waiting to knock down our doors?" Mikel cut in.
"How many people?"
"Six in all."
Brennan paused, turning over all the options in that large brain of hers.
"Keith, you and Daisy take them on a tour of our facilities." She turned to the older doctor, "Mikel, make sure that someone is keeping watch on Mays. "I don't want his anger of his removal to result in any…damages."
"What about you?" Merrill inquired.
"I will meet them in the examination room."
After nine days studying the inter-hominoid remains (or "Adi," as the team affectionately called her), Brennan had begun to draw conclusions from the remains. Although a skeleton had no vocal chords or means to move his or her mandible in order to talk, she had the unique skill of making them "speak." She was so giddy over the research opportunity before her; she knew that she might have a new species on her hands.
Perhaps the most interesting feature of Adi was her nearly-complete cranium. It was larger and more upright in shape than that of H. floresiensis showing more mental development. Adi could truly be a missing rung in the evolutionary ladder.
But the best part in the last nine days, was the email from Booth. Realizing that the site tour could take a while longer, (especially if Daisy talked as she usually did), she woke up her laptop, which was charging by solar panels, in the corner to read the email again. She read it often in the last few days; it helped her to remain composed, amicable, and gregarious.
Brennan clicked into her email client, opening Booth's email.
Bones,
Okay, this is my third time trying to reply to you. Third time's the charm, right? So I'm in Afghanistan, but I can't tell you more than that. I'm in the middle of the desert, but the base is pretty high up; I hear it can get frigid here in the winter. Good thing I rough plenty of socks!
My second-in-command is Master Sergeant Edward Herring. He's a good guy and a good soldier. We are training a few squads of men; they are quick and catch on fast. I can't believe how young these guys are. Was I that young when I was out here? Zack may have not been a Ranger, but I could never imagine him running around in the uniform.
I really do miss you. I wrote some other stuff earlier, but it just sounded way too sappy. So I miss you…a lot. Oh, and Parker is doing well; you've always taken such a great interest in him. By the way, I will be calling you in the next week. You can email me back after we talk.
Stay safe; don't even think about doing anything crazy, like…just crazy stuff.
Love,
Booth
He hadn't called yet; it had been nine days, a week consisting of seven. He was bound to call sometime soon. He was probably just busy…lot's of work to do. The facility's phone didn't have an answering machine; but someone was almost always in earshot to write down a message if needed.
A few days before, when Brennan called off-island to make travel arrangements for Mays. After their earlier…confrontation, she decided that enough was enough and that keeping him around for a year would be dangerous. He didn't contribute to the dig anyway, so the team wouldn't even feel his loss. Except for Dr. Mikel, who would now be able to sleep with the source of snoring removed.
"Dr Brennan," Daisy smiled, waiting for permission to enter. She was wise to use her proper title when she had the six anthropologists in tow.
"Two at a time may come in Ms. Wick."
"You got it!"
The first two in were stiff men from the Anthropological Society of London. They shook hands with Brennan, avoiding trading pleasantries or small talk. It didn't bother her though; playing host was her least favorite duty as director. The men looked over the body, quietly whispering in one another's ears. After a brief five minutes of examination, the men thanked Brennan and left in tandem.
The second pair was Dr. Drome and Dr. Triss of the Evolutionary Anthropological Society.
"It's an honor to meet you Dr. Brennan," Dr. Drome shook her hand with great frequency and vigor. "You are truly one of the best in the field." He was a short man with weight collecting about his stomach.
"Pleasure is mine," Dr. Triss shook Brennan's hand firmly. Tress was an extremely tall woman; she had to bow her head to enter the hut. She was a woman of seemingly few works; she studied the remains in silence as Dr. Drome chattered on.
"Look at the structure of the metacarpals!" Drome exclaimed, reading out to presumably touch Adi's hand.
"Don't touch," Brennan said. She felt rather like a mother, slapping down the hand of a child reaching for the cookie jar. "The remains are extremely fragile."
"O-Of course," he folded his hands, his cheeks red with embarrassment.
She couldn't help but think the two were an odd traveling pair; Drove was short and Triss tall, Drome talkative and Triss quiet.
Is this how people see Booth and me?
"Ready for the last pair?" Daisy asked from outside.
"Yes."
"Go on in," the perky intern said.
"Bren?"
She saw a familiar face step into the hut.
"Justine?" Brennan said incredulously, pulling the other anthropologist into a hug.
"Do you two know each other?" a male voice said.
Brennan couldn't stop from smiling. Justine Cinch was a doctor of anthropology; they went to Northwestern together. She always enjoyed Justine's company; she wasn't just an anthropologist, but a skilled satirist also. The man behind her was Dr. Jake Ryan; her husband.
"I'm surprised you're here," Brennan stepped back from the hug. "You have never liked the American Anthropological Association."
"She said it was Alcoholics Anonymous with an extra A," Ryan laughed.
"Hey, if they would just call the organization something smart like 'A3,' we wouldn't have to worry about being mistaken for car mechanic," Justine chuckled. "I haven't seen you since I was in town for that Senate hearing two years ago. Oh and by the way, I swung by the Jeffersonian last week."
"Really? Are they still working cases without me?"
"Even though the Medico-Legal Lab employs over 100 employees, I've never felt the place so empty."
Brennan felt absolutely flattered.
"Look, I know you and your team have plenty of research to do, let Jake and I give this little inter-humanoid gem a look over."
"Certainly."
While the couple entertained with the remains, she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"By the way Bren, we're leaving the island before dinner. Apparently there is some storm brewing, but I never put much stake in meteorology."
The team gathered to walk to the dock; Mays was absent.
"Mikel, where is Dr. Mays?"
"I-I thought Keith was watching him," Mikel stuttered.
"I thought he was just around…" Keith looked down at the ground.
The trio took off across the camp in search of the missing anthropologist.
"Let's split up, Keith, head for the site. Mikel, check the dormitory area. Keep your portable radios on."
Both men nodded, heading off in opposite directions. She ran to the communications hut, peering through the open door.
"Mays is in here," she said into the walkie talkie.
Before doing anything, Brennan simply observed the man for a moment. He was talking on the phone, obviously an uninteresting conversation as she kept scratching his head.
"Mays, get off the phone, your boat is leaving."
He hung up, "Happy now?"
"Quite."
Surprisingly enough, Dr. Curtis Mays didn't protest as he walked to the boat.
"Too late for me to apologize isn't it?'
"Much too late."
"Figured."
"Come on Mays, get on the boat," Ryan called from the stern.
"I'm coming," he lugged all his gear back on.
"Dr. Mays," Brennan called him over.
"Do I get a goodbye kiss?" Mays flirted.
"No but," she dumped his coffee on his chest, "you have something on your shirt."
The biological anthropologist grumbled off, his white shirt stained by the coffee.
"Don't rattle the boat Dr. Mays!" she smiled. "I hope I said that right…or was it rock the boat or shake the boat?"
343 more Mays free days…
B&B
"Stop slopping through it!" Booth yelled. He only had thirteen days left with this lot and they would be ready to ship out and deal with real terrorists. "If you're going to do it, you're going to do it right. You hear me?"
"That's what she said…"
"Alright, who said that?" Herring called out, surveying the line of men. "Was it you?" he grabbed the collar of a private.
"Y-Yes sir," he said feebly.
"Start runnin', and don't stop until I tell ya to."
"Anyone else have any comments?" the Sergeant Major asked.
"No sir!"
"Go off and drop your gear and get some rest. Stay away from the mystery meat; don't forget what happened to Gordon last Thursday."
The unit laughed as they ran off the training ground as fast as possible. Like all young guys, all they could think of was the chow.
"Hey Herring," Booth turned.
"Yeah boss?"
"Don't make that kid run too long, I already let them off early this evening."
"Don't worry, I already know why you want to get off early," Herring winked.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, you know buddy." The Master Sergeant jogged off towards the where the Private was running for his life.
Okay, so he did have an ulterior motive for letting the boys off really early; heck, he practically gave they guys a day off. With the time change to the Maluku Islands, Booth needed about four and a half hours on Bones.
He ran over to the recreation building, heading straight for a pay phone. Luckily, a care package from Parker and Co. left him with a $100 prepaid phone card; more than enough dough to get him a phone call to Maluku and back.
He dialed the 800 number on the card, listening to the computerized female voice done on with instructions.
"Please enter your four-digit pin number," the robot asked.
"1337," he entered on the wall mounted phone.
"Please dial the number you want to call with international dialing code."
Booth scoured the scratched and damaged label on the pay phone with international dialing codes.
"Damn," he swore. The sticker on his phone was scratched off by some bored Ranger.
He peeked over at the phone booth next to him, struggling with the short cord length on the phone. After scanning through a list of countries that he never heard of, Booth found the code for Indonesia. At least, he thought the Maluku were in Indonesia.
Crossing his fingers for a bit of luck, Booth dialed the number that Bones had included in her last email.
The phone rang…
He felt like the chime was taunting him.
…And rang…
The jingle went on and on.
…And rang and rang…
Damn was anyone going to pick up?
"Hello?"
"Bones?" Booth smiled into the phone.
"No? Who is this?"
"You first."
"You're the one who called me the rigid organs that form part of the endoskeleton of vertebrates."
"Okay you made your point smarty pants. I'm Sergeant Major Seeley Booth, looking to talk to Dr. Temperance Brennan. So can you just go and get your boss. Now who are you?"
"I'm Dr. Curtis Mays, biological anthropologist. Look, I don't have too long to talk, but I know who you are, but who are you?"
"Look, Dr. Brennan and I worked together back in Washington D.C. now enough of these game and give her the damn phone!"
"Now now Sergeant, no need to get angry."
"Cut it out buddy, I'm getting pretty pissed off."
"Mays, get off the phone, your boat is leaving."
The voice on the phone sounded far off and muffled. Was that Bones' voice?
"Bones?" he yelled into the line.
Static. Only static replied.
"Damn it!" He kicked the wall, leaving a sizeable dent in the drywall.
Must have been a bad time to call…
Clearly this Mays guy wasn't on her good side. Didn't she say in her last email that the team was fine? Probably just busy…yeah…busy. But was she really too busy to talk to him? What if she just didn't want to talk to him? No way, it just had to be a bad time.
He checked the clock on the wall. It was way too late to even think about calling Parker. He hoped that email wasn't the only way he'd be able to contact the two people he loved most in his life. Email was just words on a digital page. A phone call on the other hand, was an actual interaction; it was as close as you could get to an actual conversation without a web cam or something technology like that.
"Dude, are you done with the phone?"
"Yeah, yeah sure," he walked off.
"Nice hole in the wall by the way! What? Did you wife leave you?"
Booth just ignored the guy; he was just another jarhead; what did he know anyway?
"Hey Sarge?" Private Bartlett asked from behind him. "Can I get a minute?"
"Sure," he pulled him aside to a quiet corner. "What's on your mind buddy?"
"Look, I'm a bit worried…"
"About what man?"
"My younger brother that I told you about. Remember him?"
"Yeah I remember you telling me about him."
"He's getting into big trouble back home, h-he's been drinking and getting in with a bad crowd."
"And?" Booth knew what this kid was going through. When he deployed, he had to stop bailing out Jared.
"How can I help him?"
"By not helping him."
"How does that make sense?"
"Look Bartlett, you brother needs to straighten himself out. You're a good kid, I'm sure that you did all you could to help him. I know it's hard, but you gotta let him go."
The young Private nodded, "Thanks Sarge."
"Anytime man, anytime. The Army is about brotherhood, I'm here for you, and someday, I'll need you to be there for me."
B&B
Enjoy it? Well, I'd love to hear what you think.
I will admit, this one was more plot pushing than B&B stuff. Don't worry, have planned quite a bit of it for next chapter. Sorry for tricking you by the way. Maybe they will get their phone call in the next chapter? You'll have to keep reading to find out!
Your reviews really keep me going, so keep sending them my way!