Excerpt from 'Returning to Pericynthion.'

Scav

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It's been a while since I did this . . . so here is an excerpt from:
Returning to Pericynthion.


Prologue.

ValleyFair Amusement Park, Shakopee, Minnesota.
Thursday, 23 July 2020.


Anthony Downs looked over his shoulder, and grinned at the people behind him.


Jamie Cunningham and Svetlana Zaytseva were practically inseparable today. Moreover, they were bringing up the rear of the line (again), and this time the grim look of sheer determination on Jamie's face broadcast to everyone that this time, she wasn't going to take "no" for an answer.


It wasn't as if she was used to being denied anything -- as was evidenced by her choice of dress for this occasion. Downs had tactfully whispered that they were going to be out in public, and should be dressed casually, but also to represent their occupation to the rest of the world. He couldn't quite remember, but he had the faintest notion the words "and for god-sakes, we should show some damned professionalism out here!" had escaped at least once from his mouth.

He didn't know where she stashed her choice of clothing for the day, but he did know Jamie decided to present herself to the rest of the world wearing olive-green camouflage slacks, a black t-shirt, and sunglasses that looked fundamentally out of place in front of her cobalt-blue eyes, yet incredibly right at the same time. The white print on the back of her shirt was even more outrageous than the verbal warfare that had happened between her and Sienna Morrison earlier in the morning when she was rushing to wake everyone up for the day: "I AM A BOMB TECHNICIAN. IF YOU SEE ME RUNNING, TRY TO KEEP UP."

Downs turned his attention back to Sienna, and he grinned at her as they walked by a Tilt-A-Whirl that was already busy tossing its occupants around.


"Looks like a repeat?" He asked her, and she looked over at the two.

"Maybe; maybe not," Sienna replied as she shook a length of brown hair from her brown eyes. "From what I've seen so far, Jamie Frickin' Cunningham has shown quite the penchant for doing just about anything."

"You're telling me," He grinned, and she guffawed at him.


The next thing he saw was Svetlana's black, shoulder-length hair whistle past as Jamie led the way quickly up to their place in the queue, looking an odd mixture of flustered and triumphant as she all-but manually forced a stiffly-walking Svetlana along the queue path that lead up to the station up the hill.

"You got her to go?" Downs crowed incredulously, and Jamie nodded briskly at him.

"Yes sir! Mission accomplished!" She crooned.


"Remind me again why I decided to go on this trip with you?" Svetlana growled darkly, and Jamie stifled a snicker.


"Because I'm a nice girl, I'm only looking out for your best interests, and you need life-experiences to build up your character," She admonished sternly.


"Bozhe moi."
Svetlana rolled her eyes, and froze in place as she looked up at the steel monstrosity that loomed up above her in the azure sky. It looked like a diabolical, medieval deathtrap, and she watched a rollercoaster train roar swiftly (and noisily) over the top of the parabolic hill constructed immediately after the first drop.

She wasn't sure which was noisier: the train's wheels clattering along the tracks, or the occupants inside screaming in a terrifying fashion. About the only thing she liked about the construction was its color; it was a painted-green steel latticework topped by two rails of a lighter green color, and the trains themselves looked like aerodynamically challenged soapboxes; the lead unit of the train even carried what looked like a Lexan windscreen for the front occupants.


"I don't know if I can do this," Svetlana complained nervously.


"You said that about the white wooden one," Jamie pointed out.


"And the one in the back of the park," Downs added.


"And don't even start her again on the other wooden one," Sienna chipped in dryly.


"Honestly," Jamie turned closer to address Svetlana fully (and to box her in against the queue rail), "I don't understand how a friggin' cosmonaut can be afraid of heights."


"It is not like that!" Svetlana shot back as she wiggled away. "When I'm on a spacecraft, height doesn't mean anything. It's space, for crying out loud."


"Bull."


"It's true! I'm fine hundreds of kilometers above the surface," She replied defiantly.

"Then imagine you're in orbit," Jamie pressed, "and step ahead a few. The line is moving."

Svetlana growled uselessly, throwing a muttered obscenity in Russian, and plodded forward.


* * *

"Oncoming riders, please stow all loose articles with one of the station attendants, as they are not permitted on the ride. Once you are situated, your seatbelts are located in the corners by the seat back; place the metal flap into the buckle and pull the strap tightly. As with all the other rides in this park, we cannot be held responsible for lost or damaged articles."

Jamie Cunningham rolled her eyes as she held Svetlana by the hand. She stood in the foot-well of the starboard seat, and winced as her friend tripped clumsily on the padded vinyl seat top on her way in.

Svetlana snarled, swearing uselessly in Russian as she steadied herself.

"Just don't think about it, and sit down," Jamie said. "You need to relax. You're making me nervous." She found her seat belt and buckles quickly enough, and drew it tightly to a cinch.


"Over there," Jamie pointed with a finger, and Svetlana drew her own seat belt together with a snarled intake of breath, and pulled it tautly with minimal examination.


"Attention riders, the lap bars are coming down."


Svetlana snapped a quizzical look at Jamie.

"Lap bars?"

Her answer came in the form of a ratcheting noise, which heralded the "T"-shaped contraption coming down to meet her in her lap. She placed her hands on the metal handlebars built into the device, and attempted to move it. She failed.

"That's supposed to do that, right?"

"Yup!" Jamie replied cheerfully. "It's what holds your ass in when this thing goes parabolic."


"What?!"


"At this time, we'd like to remind the riders to keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times. We will see you back here at the station in approximately two minutes!"


There was a sharp pneumatic hiss, and the train lurched forward and cleared the station. It rolled slowly along the rails as it dipped down, offering an excellent view of the chain lift.


The train jerked to a stop briefly, and metal clanged together noisily from the safety locking mechanism underneath their feet. Then the ratcheting rat-tat-tat of metal against metal continued; their heads bobbed back and forth calmly as the train's speed oscillated and finally settled down into a proper cadence.


Jamie's eyes followed a video camera as they passed it, and she feasted her eyes on the wondrous view of the rest of the park to her left. She could see the Corkscrew, the Power Tower dominating the landscape, and a whole smattering of people walking the footpaths below them. She closed her eyes briefly, taking in the heady, humid smell of the Minnesota summer wind, and smiled.


"How high does this thing go?" Svetlana shouted above the wind, and Jamie winced.


"Just over two hundred feet."


"What?"


"Uh . . . sixty-some meters?"


"Oh. How high up are we?" She pressed, and Jamie looked. Svetlana held onto the handles on her lap-bar with a death grip, and her eyes were shut tightly. She looked over the front of the train and saw that they were beginning to crest over the summit.


"We're not even halfway up yet," She lied glibly.


"Oh my god . . ."


Jamie snapped a look over her shoulder to look at Sienna and Downs, and she grinned evilly at them. Downs shook his head and grinned back at her.


"Jamie Cunningham," Svetlana declared shrilly, "I really hate your guts! I don't know why I let you talk me into this!"


"Honey, relax!" Jamie replied soothingly. "It'll be over in less than two minutes, and then we can move on to the next disaster in your life. Besides, you're going to thank me when this is all over."


"Like the hell I will!"


"How many times have we come through for each other? Huh? Are you seriously going to doubt me, now?" Jamie shot back sternly. "I'm really hurt that you don't trust me, Sveta!"


The ratcheting noise stopped suddenly, and for a moment no human sense dared time properly, there was nothing but the wind in their faces and their hearts pounding in their chests. It was peaceful; almost surreal.


"Did we stop? What is going on?" Svetlana snapped nervously . . . and then her shrill, tearing scream joined the rest of the cacophony on the train as they plummeted earthward like a homesick rock.


* * *

KOA Campground, Jordan, Minnesota.

Friday, 24 July 2020.


The fire crackled, sending its warm, smoky crimson-and-yellow glow into the darkening sky. Jamie Cunningham, Anthony Downs, Sienna Morrison and Svetlana Zaytseva sat around the fire in silence as they each held a bottle of beer. It was the first break in the conversation in a half hour, and Jamie was immensely glad at the combined teamwork both Downs and Morrison had shown in getting the fire going and getting their small area around the fire set up. Everyone had done their part in pitching the two-room tent, and now it was time to relax.


Darkness fell rapidly now, and Jamie had chosen wisely in getting off the highway when she did. It was a long series of days they had just spent, full of driving and driving and driving, and they were all already exhausted from the road. She was past the point of feeling guilty for dragging her colleagues on a damn near month-long traipse across the Central United States by car; their travels had taken them from Houston clear across the front range of the Rocky Mountains to Mount Rushmore, to her childhood home in east-central Minnesota, culminating in many days of sightseeing where they'd stopped.


Jamie remembered with fondness the fresh tranquility as her friends' faces echoed the same stunned look in each of their sightseeing trips: At the summit thirteen thousand feet above sea level overlooking the Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado . . . at Devil's Tower in Wyoming . . . and even as they stood at the rest stop overlooking the city of Duluth some distance below them, with the sunlight glinting off of the hulls of many boats and ships traversing Lake Superior in the far distance.


She even started to get over her own compulsory feeling of guilt at getting Svetlana Zaytseva -- a hardcore Russian cosmonaut who bore the general appearance of knowing it all and being able to put up with (and accomplish) anything -- to ride her first rollercoaster. It was tough not to really put the screws to that woman; the first few days of flying in space under the banner of SEP-010 was a study in frustration when their newest addition to Constitution's crew had basically intended to simply observe, take notes, and refuse to participate.


That wasn't the way people operated in space. It was like the old ships of antiquity; everyone had a job, volunteered when they could, did what they could, and when there was time, maybe each crewmember got adequate sleep before they were woken up by the radio for their next day.


Svetlana had finally come into her own during that mission, and Jamie felt she owed it to Brian Adkinson (who, as Mission Commander, had put up with Svetlana's bad attitude the most in the early days of the mission) to really mess with her friend.


And it worked . . . in more ways than one. As she glanced at Svetlana, she noted the strange glow her friend now exhibited . . . all the more pronounced in the twilight and fire-glow. Svetlana had done more than just ride her first rollercoaster ever that day; she'd been pushed into facing a fundamental phobia, and Jamie was the person who had brought that about. Svetlana returned her glance, and smiled softly at her while Sienna took a long pull at her beer bottle.


"Alright," Jamie said as she emptied the contents of her bottle. "I'm exhausted. I'm gonna go to bed."


"Me too," Sienna said.


"G'night," Downs said as Jamie and Sienna left.


"G'night," He heard.


* * *

Jamie Cunningham zippered up her sleeping bag and took a deep breath. The alcohol was finally hitting her system fully, and she felt the sedative effect of the liquid relaxing every part of her body as she sunk her head into her pillow. She could hear the crickets chirping in the distance, mixed with the occasional, barely audible droning hum of a mosquito outside of her tent. She heard Sienna rustle in her own sleeping bag next to her, followed by the iconic sound of a zipper as she closed her eyes.

She heard Svetlana and Downs talking in the distance. The sound was soothing . . . it reminded her of her childhood. Certainly Svetlana's accent was enough to mar the spell somewhat . . . but not the actual presence of a man and woman's voice talking near a campfire.


It reminded her of her mother and father . . . and of times irrevocably gone, yet irreplaceable in her memory. She thought of both of them . . . how they had divorced long ago, but how, for a brief amount of time things were really good between her, her parents, and her sister.


She yawned as sleep knocked on her brainpan, and she shut her eyes once more as her body started to fall to complete lead against the ground. It would be good to get some sleep, she thought. It would be good to . . .

* * *
 

Aeadar

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Thank you, Scav!

I find that I've missed these folks, especially Jamie & Svetlana.
 
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