Martoons

Today: Fred does some snooping.

Cast of characters

Fred

Mr E

Mr Go

*

“I drive you. It is a little far,” said Mr E.

This time Fred gladly accepted.

Walking even a few more blocks in this living sauna wasn’t his idea of fun.

He could feel his nut-sack sticking to his leg and his gotchies were soaked with sweat.

And he had deep-down angst of getting disoriented in the streets again and frying in this damn solar orb.

As they climbed in E’s still-icy cool vehicle, Fred felt bad for lambasting E about sitting in his idling car earlier.

From inside the swanky vehicle, the waygook could see the world as E saw it – only the cool interior existed and that ugly, frying pan urban jungle out there … it was way beyond the tinted windshield.

Talk about a comfort zone.

E pulled the vehicle out of the back alley.

Traffic was light in the street and they breezed along.

No big stinky busses or senile, oblivious old ladies getting out of taxis.

And it turned out to only be a block or two to Central.

Fred laughed that it was so close but all the same thanked E for giving him the ride.

Who knows how much longer he would have lasted walking around in circles dazed in that scorching heat?

And his spidey sense was telling him things weren’t about to cool off a whole lot, any time soon.

Back at Central’s main door, Fred spotted the corner store he’d seen before.

He marveled at how it had been right under his nose only moments ago yet he’d missed it.

He darted over to finally get that beverage.

Hustling back to work, the cold and condensation-covered can felt like heaven in his hand.

He couldn’t believe how hot and humid the weather here was.

Even just getting to Central’s street-level entrance made him perspire again.

Heading up the stairs he wondered if the place had started filling up with client bodies yet.

When would he actually start teaching people ‘Englishy’?

For a split second he wondered if he was still on that plane dreaming this whole thing.

* What is it really like at Central? *

Strangely, he didn’t hear anything.

And when he got to the office and the hallway, it was still dead quiet.

This doesn’t look good.

How can this place be making any money?

Maybe Thomas … fled.

Fred felt a slight chill of alienation ripple through him.

Before stepping into the office, he peered down to the end of the long hall.

Go had finished his mopping and the sunlight shining in from an open door showed that the remaining puddles on the hallway floor were disappearing fast – if you watched them steadfastly you could see them shrink before your eyes.

Go was smoking out on a little balcony at the hall’s end with his back to Fred, and he looked serene and occupied for the time being.

* Will Fred get caught? *

The filing cabinet.

A few minutes was all Fred needed.

The Canadian sidestepped into the office and peeled the pop top off his drink.

It was grape juice and he swilled most of it back in one gulp.

It actually tasted authentic; the only thing throwing him off was the real chunks of grape near the bottom.

Not expecting them, one chunk almost slipped past his epiglottis.

The beverage did the trick, though – his core body temperature returned to normal and he wasn’t sweating anymore.

The air conditioner had been continuously on and a nice chill had engulfed the office.

Fred closed the door to keep the coolness in…

…and peering eyeballs out.

He got to work on the filing cabinet.

He went through its first two drawers but didn’t find what he was looking for.

On to drawer 3 – the last one.

It was locked but there was a way around that.

He adeptly pulled out drawer 2 above it, disconnected it from its railing and completely removed it.

That gave him reach-in access to drawer 3.

The office was so quiet he could hear the big clock on the wall ticking.

It wouldn’t be long before Mr Go finishes his smoke and comes down here.

He fished his hand down into drawer 3 and clutched a stack of files.

They appeared to be dossiers of foreigners who’d applied to work here.

Fred’s eyes lit up as he flipped through looking for that one particular file.

Nothing.

He wedged the stack back in the row, then tip-toed over to the door to make sure the coast was still clear.

Go was still smoking, his head engulfed in a hazy cloud hanging there in the heat, and himself apparently deep in thought.

“Thank God for chain smokers,” Fred muttered to himself and then went back to drawer 3, pulling out the remaining files.

Bingo!

T h o m a s   M a p l e t r e e .

*

Tomorrow: Fred sees a familiar face.