Chapter 23
Alice
"Hello?" asked Esmé into the receiver.
"No."
Who on earth is on the phone?
"Yeah, me too ... Goodbye."
We all stared at her intently, eyes widening from which spoke pure curiosity as to who was on the phone. It certainly wasn't the TWO - Esmé looked too disappointed.
"Someone had misdialed," she sniffed sadly.
General grumbling sounded.
If those two don't get in touch soon ... I don't know what I'll do either. Anyway, Emmett is about to call in the army. With tanks and rockets! Mmm ... most of them were all well-trained guys and then in black or if worse comes to worst, in the ugly green camouflage gear. Black was ... grrr. But this impossible green, mixed with I don't know what other colors. After all, if Emmett called, he could order the black guys. I had to mention that when the opportunity arose, so that the wrong troop wouldn't show up here.
"What are we going to do now?", Esmé asked, joining in their wailing. "My poor poor baby ..." Sniff. "My little Edward ..." Wail. "How is he going to survive without me ..."
Now her ever-feared tear gland came into play.
Carlisle comforted her as best he could. But a wailing Esmé was hard to stop, especially when her beloved baby was involved.
"Aren't you worried about Bella?", I asked her.
She looked at me in horror and launched into, "My Honey-blob ..." Tears streamed down her reddened cheeks. "I hope she takes good care of my baby ..." Quickly wiped her nose. "MY POOR BABY ..."
Inwardly, I shook my head.
Yes yes, her poor baby not surviving without her. He got along quite well without her. Very well, in fact, when he wasn't under her thumb. Still, my worries didn't diminish because of it. OH ... I'd ... quarter them ... ream them their asses off by every trick in the book, and there'd be no sparing of expletives, they could do whatever they wanted. I would yell at them so loudly that they didn't know what was happening to them. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do. They could both bet their bottom dollar on that!
The doorbell rang.
All heads jerked around and stared at the door.
Esmé screamed excitedly and ran, tearing open the door.
"My baby, there you are!", and threw herself into the arms of the letter carrier, who, to his delight, pressed her to him.
"Um ... yes ... um ... good afternoon. A package for Isabella Swan."
Esmé's head went up and she looked at the letter carrier with eyes widened in terror.
"You're not my baby. Let go of me, you insolent bastard," and slapped him - to the amusement of us all.
Carlisle sped over to his wife and pulled her away from the poor poor mailman.
"Come, my angel. I'll make you some tea."
He led her into the kitchen and out of our sight.
Emmett took care of the mailman and the package for Bella.
"Since when does the post office deliver packages in the evening? Who are you? Your ID, please!"
He held out his not-so-small hand to the frightened mailman.
"Um ... I'm from ... UPS ... and you're my last customer for the day. That happens a lot, sir."
Emmett's gaze continued to pierce him.
"Aha ...! ID card, but hurry up!"
The poor letter carrier rummaged around in his jacket pocket and held his ID under his nose.
"Here you go."
He grabbed the document and examined it as if he were working at Sotheby's.
"Such IDs can be forged. Your identity card, please."
The poor poor letter carrier looked at him in confusion.
"Certainly, sir," and rummaged in his jacket pocket again.
He took out his wallet and Emmett snatched it right out of his hand.
"Well then, let's see if you're telling us the truth."
He rifled through the wallet and didn't seem to find anything conspicuous.
"All right then, Mister Honeybee? What kind of stupid name is that? The ID isn't fake, is it? That's not the name of a normal person!"
The poor poor mailman winced under Emmett's piercing gaze.
"Yes, sir. I've always been proud of that name."
He straightened his shoulders and looked Emmett squarely in the eye.
"Baby, leave him alone. He's just the messenger, not a terrorist."
Rose put her arm around his shoulders and looked apologetically at the poor terrorist mailman.
Esmé came out of the kitchen ... with a steaming cup of tea in her hands.
"Do you excuse my behavior, mister ...?"
She looked at the poor poor letter carrier.
"Honeybee, Mrs."
Her eyes grew big, and she began to tremble.
What was wrong with her now?
"Honeybee? ... My poor poor baby and Honey sweetheart are out there all alone and I can't protect them. Carlisle, they're going to die of malnutrition, or they'll put on the wrong clothes and freeze to death miserably."
Carlisle took the cup from her and pushed her back toward the kitchen.
Wonderful! That was all we needed! She really got into it beautifully.
"We're sorry, but she has a ... um ... yes, goodbye," Rose said, shutting the door in the poor terror-exonerated mailman's face.
"Emmett, aren't you overdoing it just a teensy bit? After all, he's not working for Osama Bin Laden!" I said to him in a friendly manner.
"A terrorist? Mister Honeybee? Alice, you're a genius!", he said and turned on his heels and stormed off.
"Terrorist? Who?"
Esmé stood in the kitchen doorway looking at us, frightened.
On to the next round - full of madness and whining. Quite wonderful!
"No one is a terrorist. Emmett was just a little off his game."
I approached her cautiously, as if she were a live hand grenade.
As my grandma used to say, 'caution is the mother of duds'. Oh, if only she were here. She would know what to do in a situation like this.
The rest of the evening passed slowly.
Emmett hung out in front of the computer and brought himself up to speed - with everything terror-related.
As if we didn't have enough other worries already! Like ... where are those two? Oh ... I'm going to wring their necks! Nice and slow and painful. When Emmett finally unlocks the computer, I'm going to google for some nice torture methods. I hope I find something where I don't have to order accessories! There must be something in every household with which you can torture wonderfully. Best I sleep over it, half asleep I always have the best ideas.
five days later
Still no sign of life from the two.
My nerves were at the end and thanks to Esmé, it won't get back to normal anytime soon.
Carlisle took her to the doctor after she had a crying fit followed by a minor nervous breakdown. She was prescribed pills to calm her down. At least that was a small success. Our nerves, which were no longer there, were able to rebuild. With tea and cookies, which was my grandma's cure-all. And for the most part, it helped.
Emmett drank so much tea that he had to go to the bathroom every half hour. His research on world terrorism only fueled his loopy thoughts. When Esmé was out of sight, he would tell us his conspiracy theories.
If Esmé heard them, she would have to be put in a coma, or it would be over with her. Total collapse!
Rose and I reassured each other.
We tried to be reasonable and not blame aliens for their disappearance. Even though that was within the realm of possibility for me. But we came to the conclusion that they had simply cleared off. Rest, from whatever. I tended to blame Esmé, but I would never say that out loud.
Esmé strolled past us to the door under sedation.
She should just keep busy and not bug us too much.
Carlisle was worried about his wife, and I could understand that.
If my Jazzie ... Oh no ..., that's not going to happen. Alice, pull yourself together, or they'll drag you to a doctor and pump you full of those colorful pills. That's not an option!
A bloodcurdling scream came from the front door.
What is it now? A new mailman?
"A postcard!" Waving with it, she came running. "My baby wrote a picture postcard!"
We rushed to Esmé and surrounded her as if she promised the Holy Grail and thus immortality.
Hello!
Don't worry, we are doing excellent.
Bella and Edward
Great! Where they were, they have not written, and we should not worry? The jokers! Too late, we were worried and what worries. But they could have been a bit more detailed! With a location or even better with an address. But no, they're being all mysterious!
"My baby is alive!"
Esmé threw herself into Carlisle's arms and sobbed uninhibitedly.
So much for the colored pills.
"Bella too!" I said sarcastically and gave Esmé a nasty look.
My best 'don't mess with me' look. But she didn't give a damn!
"Let me see that!"
Emmett snatched the map from Esmé's hands and examined it closely. He muttered to himself and went to the window.
"Give me back the postcard right now! "
Esmé built herself up in front of him and held out her hand.
"No. I need to look at the postmark. That's how we'll find out where they are."
He narrowed his eyes and continued to study the map.
Yesterday, after everyone was in bed, I snuck over to the computer and googled.
There were many methods of torturing a person.
Rip out fingernails or toenails - with pliers. Just as well was to pull the teeth - without anesthesia. Breaking bones. Whipping. These were the most common, but there were also really good and sophisticated methods. Driving small stakes under the nails. The Judas Cradle - I won't explain that in detail, but it gladdened my battered heart. Stretching bench - I don't know if you can order such a thing in the catalog, but if ... It would be worth the money. The goat - I liked this best, cover the soles of your feet with salt and then a goat licks it off. I imagine that would be creepy. I wonder if Jake would do that too, that way I wouldn't have to buy a goat.
So I had passed the time in front of the computer for an hour until Jasper dragged me back to bed to distract me. It worked wonderfully.
Blissful as a baby, I fell asleep and dreamed of torturing the two. I laughed like a witch doing this and jumped around like one.
"They're in the Caribbean! Can you believe it!", Emmett cheered and waved the postcard back and forth.
"Caribbean? WHERE? And give me back the map right now. Who knows if I'll see my poor baby alive again! It's the last thing he touched, and I don't want it broken or damaged. My best bet is to shrink-wrap it."
She took the postcard from him and gently pressed it to her chest. She murmured something and stroked the picture postcard.
Now she was completely out of her mind.
"The stamp is from the Caribbean, I think anyway. The Bahamas is a Caribbean Island, isn't it?"
"It doesn't mean 'the Bahamas is one island,' you idiot, it's several islands."
Rose punched him in the back of the head.
"I'll check the Internet," he said, and once again disappeared to the computer.
Half an hour later he explained to us that the Bahamas comprise about three hundred islands and only thirty are inhabited.
Isn't that wonderful? Only thirty! If it's nothing else! These can be checked and searched quickly and easily. Pah …
Esmé was satisfied - well, halfway anyway.
Her baby is alive and well. But not for long, once I get them between my fingers. Ha ... then they will have no fingers!
She had the postcard shrink-wrapped and dragged it everywhere with her.
Emmett was suspiciously quiet.
Too quiet. He was probably up to something again. At least he was off his terrorist-trip.
Esmé made supper singing and kissed and caressed the postcard in between.
She should! Emmett hung himself even further in front of the computer and did - what do I know. We'll find out.
The table was set and Esmé called us.
"Come on kids, dinner is ready."
Emmett was about to sit down when she cried out.
"NO! There sits my baby!", and put the picture postcard on the chair.
Emmett groaned and slid over a chair.
"NO! Not there either, that's Bella's seat. The two of them always sit next to each other," and put a picture of Bella on the chair.
Oh yes! The nerves, the nerves!
She sat down next to the chair with the picture postcard and started eating when everyone was at the table.
"Do you like it, my baby!", and lovingly stroked the postcard.
"Esmé, what are you doing?"
Carlisle took her in his arms.
"So I think he's here and Bella is here."
She sniffled again and her eyes turned red.
"Have you taken your pills yet?", Emmett asked.
Esmé shook her head.
There you go! No pill taken! She definitely has to make up for that.
Carlisle was a sweetheart and pressed two of the things into her hand. She took it obediently and her sobs became less.
Emmett cleared his throat and announced, "I have a plan."
