The Black Fossil

  Chapter VI – An Improbable Artifact Rescue

  Jim Stalin made his way towards the other end of the island. He knew there had to be some facilities of some sort for the group of bad people to be able to get the artifact off the island. He went ahead and made his way over to the other side of the island. He was delayed though by a very familiar smell. He smiled as he walked over and found a Starbuck’s Coffee stand sitting there.

  "Welcome to uninhabited island Starbucks!" the clerk said, "What would you like today?"

  "I would like a Super Vente Grande Komodo Dragon island blend," Jim told him, "I’d like cream, sugar, cocoanut juice as well as any unidentified non-poisonous good tasting stuff that you can find."

  "Would you like that in a large or small cocoanut?" the clerk asked, "The delivery people were a bit slow with the cups this month."

  "Let’s go for the large one," Jim agreed, "Do you get much business out here?"

  "Not usually," the clerk said as he frothed up the coffee, "But I’m doing better than the Starbucks that opened up in my bathroom did."

  The outhouse opened and another man waved as he showed his sign for another Starbucks location, conveniently located right next to the very toilet that most of the other Starbucks customers used to expel their earlier purchases.

  "Figures," Jim said, watching, "Did you see a really sexy blonde woman, a tall guy with a really odd name and about a dozen mooks pass through here today?"

  "Yes sir," the clerk said, putting in a lot of chemicals, "They bought a few coffees and shorted me on the tip. They are bad people, sir."

  "That they are," Jim agreed, "Which way did they go?"

  "Just follow the signs that they put up," the clerk said, handing over the cocoanut to Jim Stalin, "That will be three hundred and eighty seven dollars and ninety two cents."

  "Inflation gets everything," Jim mumbled and tossed four hundred dollar bills on the counter, "Keep the change."

  "Thank you sir!" the clerk said, "Since you’re nicer than they are I’ll tell you a secret that they don’t even know yet."

  "Ok," Jim said, "I can use that."

  "We know," the clerk said, "That’s why a Starbucks was formed here, just to give you this information."

  "Very well," Jim said, "What is the information?"

  "The bad guys brought two boats," the clerk said, "And there is a motorcycle hidden behind my shop here.

  "Excellent!" Jim exclaimed, "I bet they are walking to the boats too, which means I can rush in and take the artifact and try to get away."

  "They are relying on mook power to get it to the boats," the clerk said and counted the money, "Hmm, you paid me enough to cover theirs too. I’ll give you another clue."

  "What’s that?" Jim said, "I can never get enough help in the plot section."

  "Take the boat on the right," the clerk said, "It is faster and will allow you to get out of this area so we can move on to something more interesting than a deserted island covered with Mooks and bad people. Maybe you can do something other than run around an idiotic island for the next few chapters."

  "It would be nice," Jim agreed, "Ok. I’m taking the motorcycle now."

  "That’s what it is there for," the clerk agreed, "Enjoy your coffee!"

  "And don’t forget to visit my shop!" the Starbucks guy in the bathroom said, "I’m open later!"

  "Right," Jim said, "Thanks."

  Jim walked out back of the Starbucks area to find an old dilapidated motorcycle sitting out back just waiting for him to get on to it. He did so, brushing off a generous helping of dust, and looked for the method to start it. Alas, since the author knows very little about these idiotic devices other than what he hears people talking about at work it seems that Jim Stalin is going to just have to wing it.

  "Fine," Jim said, grumbling, "Do I have to make the putt putts on my own as well?"

  "I think some generic engine noise will do," the author told him, "Now get your ass on that bike and go get the artifact."

  Jim Stalin remembered what he was doing and managed to get the bike started. He shifted it into gear and started driving along. It took maybe three minutes for Jim to realize that he had no idea where he was going. This was a good thing, all told because the bad guys didn’t know where they were going either.

  Seeing as neither one had a clue, but Jim knew about the boats that the author had so carelessly forgotten to tell Adam or Reizvolle about the existence of. Since all parties were equally clueless, it didn’t take too long for Jim to find them. Since none of the bad guys were really expecting it Jim decided to make a quick run for the artifact carrier.

  Jim headed straight for the group of mooks that were breaking their backs trying to carry the large carrier that was at least twenty times larger than the actual artifact that they were trying to retrieve. No one exactly knew why this was done this way, but it had been so for a lot longer than was necessary.

  "Where did he get that?" Adam asked, "And why the hell didn’t we bring our own vehicles out here?"

  "Because we popped into existence out of nowhere," Reizvolle cooed sulkily, "And we don’t want to make it too hard. We have to have a reason to keep going after that idiot on the motorcycle after all. If we don’t have any reason to chase him this book gets rather dull."

  "That’s true," Adam said, "So I guess we should put up a show at stopping him then?"

  "That would be prudent," Reizvolle agreed, her eyes oozing sex appeal, "We paid good money for these mooks, they should serve some sort of purpose before we leave them to starve on this island."

  "You heard her!" Adam yelled, "Stop him! Anyone who survives will be left behind!"

  The mooks dropped the large case and rushed towards Jim’s speeding motorcycle. In doing so they managed to form a perfect ten pin formation, which Jim took as a challenge to his motorcycle riding skills. He revved the engine and put his hard head down in front of him as he drove quickly into the line.

  Seeing as the motorcycle makes one hell of an effective bowling ball he hit the group just to the left of the leading mook. The blood was a horrible sight, but then it was all they were meant for so it wasn’t too much. A few mook parts flew across the area but again it was all in good taste.

  "Who’s good taste?" Adam wondered, "I don’t think any of this book has been in good taste so far."

  "You haven’t seen anything yet," Reizvolle said libidinously, "I think there are new levels of bad taste that we have yet to visit. Bloody and broken mooks are just the beginning…"

  Seeing as most of the mooks were now disposed of Jim did a few victory laps around the remains of the mooks and made an obscene gesture at Adam and Reizvolle. He then picked up a mook and tossed it at Adam’s head, managing to wrap the evil man’s head with it. Reizvolle shook her head at the idiocy and watched as Jim ran at full speed towards the box.

  "Stop him!" Adam yelled, "Reizvolle! He’s going to get the artifact!"

  "What do you want me to do?" Reizvolle asked sultrily, "Stop him with my excessively large breasts or your extreme lack of wit? You know full well he’s going to get it. Might as well get a good laugh as he hits the box."

  "True," Adam said, "Should we tell him that he’s not going to stop in time?"

  "Of course not," Reizvolle said provocatively, "Let’s enjoy the moment, shall we?"

  Jim waved at Adam and Reizvolle while he approached the artifact carrier. Of course, his lack of skill at the controls of a motorcycle allowed him to hit it head on going a good fifty miles an hour. He flew off the motorcycle and landed in a soft batch of mattresses just to find Reizvolle and Adam staring down at him.

  "You want the other guy," Jim’s stunt double said from the mattresses, "The one that is currently taking the artifact from your carrier and running away."

  "You really don’t think I’m that stupid, do you?" Jim asked them as he ran.

  "Figures," Adam said, "Damned stunt doubles."

  "If you’re as sick of this ch
apter as I am," Reizvolle cooed in a bored tone, "Then let him go."

  Jim ran to the boats as he had been told by the plot device called a Starbucks salesman a while earlier. He jumped into the boat and started sailing back towards civilization, the direction of which Jim Stalin magically knows without having ever been in this part of the world before or ever sailing an unfamiliar boat before.

  "We’ll get you later!" Adam yelled, "Count on it!"

  "Of course you will," Jim said as he made it far away, "It wouldn’t be much of a book if you didn’t!"

  VII – Analyzing the Artifact

  Jim Stalin walked into Admiral Sackenbrenner’s office clad in the same torn up clothes he had been wearing after the plane crash and boat ride. Somehow the mystical boat ride took him all the way to the door outside the non-descript government agency’s very landlocked building. Just to add insult to injury Jim had parked the boat in the Admiral’s personal parking space, much to the detriment of the twenty-year-old Yugo the Admiral had already parked there.

  "So you lost another partner," the Admiral said with a smoke filled breath, "That’s the third one that has gotten killed on you this year."

  "I know," Jim said, "I’m torn up about it too. I really need to do something about this one."

  "I could say that it wasn’t part of your job," the Admiral said, "But you and I both know that you have no other job than this. You’re another bit of public waste that at least the public can enjoy listening to."

  "At least you’re showing good sense to know that," Jim agreed, "Now we need to find out who the opposition is and why they want this thing."

  "Do you think they know that yet?" Sackenbrenner mused, "Or is that going to be made up later on?"

  "It will be made up later on," Jim was sure, "But that doesn’t stop us from analyzing this artifact that I picked up. Maybe it will give some impetus for this story to move along."

  "Right," Admiral Sackenbrenner said as he lit another cheap cigar, "Go ahead and take the thing up to the labs to have it looked at. Maybe Ray Lager will be able to figure out what it is and maybe even get you a direction to go into."

  "Just so long as I don’t get on to another plane flown by a mook," Jim said, "That gag was fun the first time, but I don’t want to do it again."

  "We’ll let you fly a real one this time," Admiral Sackenbrenner told him, "I can’t afford for you to lose another partner. We don’t have that many people on payroll and it is getting harder and harder to find people willing to partner up with you."

  "Then let me take Jack," Jim suggested, "He’s actually survived a few missions with me. Not to mention he’s been a friend since we were in grade school together."

  "He’s probably more likely to survive," Admiral Sackenbrenner agreed, "And you already have Alexandra to mourn and to avenge. Yes, go ahead and take Jack Wack with you. If nothing else his name will get appreciative chuckles and plenty of opportunities for silly buddy-buddy banter."

  "Where is he?" Jim asked, "I haven’t seen him since I parked the boat?"

  "Probably doing your wife," Admiral Sackenbrenner shrugged, "Since you spend so little time at home."

  "I don’t think Angeline would do that to me," Jim shrugged, "And I know Jack wouldn’t. He has more self respect than to aim that low."

  "I thought her name was Annabel?" Admiral Sackenbrenner asked, "No matter, you never go home and see her anyway."

  "True that," Jim nodded, "I guess I should go up and see Lager. Though I’d much rather drink one right now."

  "Funny," Sackenbrenner coughed, belching out more stale cigar smoke, "Get this piece of junk off my desk."

  "And back into your parking space," Jim grinned, "Just like usual."

  "I love my Yugo," Sackenbrenner said, "It fits me."

  "Cheap, old and broken down?" Jim asked, "Not to mention belching more smoke than a factory following Bush air protection rules?"

  "Get out!" Sackenbrenner yelled, "You have an artifact to have examined!"

  Jim grinned gleefully and made his way up to the 39th floor of the non-descript building. Of course, the building looked like it only had 36 floors to hide the fact that there were a bunch of illegitimate and immoral government offices there. This is only slightly less than the number of floors hidden in the white house to give the government an appearance of respectability.

  Ray Lager was sitting in his workroom on the 39th floor when Jim made it up there to talk to him. Ray himself was a small, bookish person who was wearing glasses thick enough to substitute for the windows on a ship. His unkempt hair and lab coat made it apparent that he was the resident science geek for an organization filled with people who mostly couldn’t have passed high school chemistry.

  Ray also had many degrees, enough that an entire wall in his office was papered with them. Jim always flinched when he saw these. He knew that Ray Lager was smart enough to make up for a dozen Jim Stalins but that with his body and those thick glasses he was not likely to get any other satisfaction. This is good because it made sure that Ray Lager would not be any competition for him.

  "What’s going on, Ray?" Jim asked him, sitting down on the edge of his desk, "What Degree are you working on this week?"

  "I’m going for a second doctorate in Macro-Biological Physics," Ray said, not even looking up from his book. Why are you here and what do you intend to destroy this time?"

  "Nothing!" Jim exclaimed, "I do all my destruction outside of the office. Don’t you believe that I come up here just because I like you?"

  "No more than I would believe that Steve Stifler would become a sensitivity trainer," Ray said, "What is in the box?"

  "Well," Jim said, "If you have a few minutes I would like to know more about this artifact that I brought back."

  "I didn’t get that degree in Artificial Artifact Archaeology for nothing," Ray said, "Put it on my desk, I’ll get to it in standard government time."

  "Dude," Jim said, putting it down, "I’ll be retired before you get to it in standard government time. You are appearing as a character in a fast paced action novel and there is no time for that. You have no other job in this piece other than helping me figure out what that blasted thing is and to read your books. So the sooner you figure this out then you can get back to whatever degree you’re working on for next week."

  "Very well," Ray sighed, "At least Jack Wack hasn’t shown up yet. You’re insufferable enough on your own. He’s worse."

  "Hey, hey Ray!" Jack Wack said, "I thought I heard that Jim was back in town on his way back up here. What no good does that windbag Sackenbrenner have you working on this time?"

  "He doesn’t know," Jim shrugged, "None of us do. The only clue I have is that hunk of junk sitting on Ray’s desk. He’s going bureaucrat on me though. Doesn’t want to figure out what it is."

  "Now, now," Jack said, "That’s no way to treat the man here. He’s a big supporter of the arts."

  "How do you get that?" Ray asked, "He hasn’t been to a gallery in his life."

  "Man," Jack said, "I’m a gay, Jewish Black dude. My brother’s name is Art and Jim has been helping me support him for years. I’m also the comic relief so I’m not going to make a hell of a lot of sense. Just analyze the idiotic thing, all right?"

  "I’ll do it just to get you out of my office," Ray sighed, "Come back after you go out, have some bad coffee, and have your get re-acquainted banter. That should give me enough time to make up something ridiculous that you’ll believe."

  "Sounds good to me, Jimbo," Jack said, "How about you?"

  "Sure," Jim agreed, "Though will you tell me how I came to be best friends with a gay, Jewish black dude?"

  "I was hoping you’d tell me how I came to be best friends with a white hetero cracker?" Jack shrugged as they discreetly walked out of the office, "I guess they thought it would be funny and give people a sense of security."

  "Sense of security?" Jim asked, "How do you get that?"

  "Man, you are as dumb
as you look sometimes," Jack said, "Do you know what kind of flack the author would receive for killing off a gay, Jewish black dude? I’m a golden boy and moreover the first character introduced in this novel that we all know damn sure is not going to be killed off for a laugh."

  "Not to mention," Jim grinned, "With a name as stupid as Jack Wack you are going to be fun for the ages. How did you get through high school with that name?"

  "Easy," Jack said, "I did my whacking at home and grew up during the rise of political correctness. Man, being a gay, Jewish black dude made it so that no one could touch me. We did go to Bill Clinton High School, after all."

  "Would explain my moral laxity?" Jim agreed, "Though you do have sense enough not to tell my wife Sandy eh?"

  "I thought her name was Sasha," Jack shrugged, "Not like I’ve ever met her anyway."

  "Whatever," Jim shrugged, "Not important right now."

  "So what are we looking for?" Jack asked, "And why is that artifact the key to finding it?"

  "We’re looking for something called The Black Fossil," Jim explained, "The only reason I’m looking for it is because I’m trying to find the jackasses that killed Alexandra. Even though I killed the one who pulled the trigger I have an irrational need to find the other two who ordered it."

  "That little irrational need is called a plot, buddy," Jack reminded him, "That’s wearing a bit on the thin side as this progresses. That’s why I’m here. To give a bit of comic relief and a slight plausibility break from the main story. I also am rather long winded, so this allows a lot of words to be burned that way."

  "Good point," Jim said, "Speaking of which, shouldn’t we get back to it?"

  "Maybe after we get a gratuitous description of me," Jack said, "That should be long enough to unravel some of the secrets of the unknown. Especially since we’re all making it up as we go along anyway."

  "True that," Jim said, "I guess we’re waiting for the description now…"

  Ok, if that is what we need… Jack Wack is a gay, Jewish Black dude who is probably about five feet six inches tall. He’s thin, has a shaved head because he wanted to hide the fact that he was losing his hair. Unless it is funnier to give him a large afro. We’ll figure that out when Chris does the cover. He favored any stereotypical gay or Jewish clothing and did this mainly to make it easy to identify or describe him. He also has secret fantasies about a certain elderly male member of the 60 minutes cast…

  "Enough!" Jim exclaimed, "That is way more than I wanted to know about my old friend Jack!"

  "Me too," Jack said, "I don’t think Jim really needs to know how I really feel about Andy Rooney."

  "On that note perhaps we’d better go talk to Ray again," Jim suggested as he cocked an eyebrow at Jack, "Andy Rooney?"

  "Hey…" Jack said, "I can’t help it if I like cranky old white guys…"

  They walked into the office where Ray was hovering over the very different looking artifact. It actually looked like something very old and ancient, unlike the stark object that Jim had brought back from the uninhabited island. It was made of stone and covered with runes that Jim had never seen the like of before.

  "That doesn’t look like what I brought back," Jim said, "You run off on a wild tangent again, Ray?"

  "Or drinking too much of your namesake?" Jack added.

  "No," Ray said, frowning, "I simply opened the box and pulled out the artifact that was inside. No one took off the original Artifact Synthetics Service packaging to actually see what the object was."

  "Great," Jim said, "So what is it?"

  "Some form of Neolithic artifact," Ray told them, "Really old. I’ve not had time to get this degree yet, so I am not much help in translating it for you."

  "Neolithic?" Jack asked, "I don’t know much about it but that is damned old isn’t it?"

  "Very old," Ray agreed, "I don’t know what could be that old that could inspire this much death and destruction."

  "Well," Jim said, "They are looking for it and that’s enough reason for us to start looking for it. Any ideas on what to do with it, Ray?"

  "Of course not," Ray said, "That would be too implausible. Besides, you and Jack need to head out. We need a car chase to spice things up. We have spent enough time lollygagging around in here that whatever bad guys you screwed over are probably going to be on the road between here and where you go to get it looked at."

  "There’s just one problem," Jack said, "Where are we going to get it looked at?"

  "The foremost professor on Neolithic artifacts," Ray said, "Admiral Sackenbrenner has already set up an invitation for you to meet him at a dress dinner tonight. You and Jack are expected to go there, with the artifact, and show it to him."

  "I guess now I should admit that I have no clue how to dress for a dress up dinner?" Jim said, "Since I wouldn’t know a tux from a wetsuit."

  "That’s why I’m here," Jack grinned, clapping Jim on the back, "Why else would you be best friends with a gay Jewish black dude?"

  "I knew there had to be some reason," Jim laughed, "Other than the fact that I wanted someone who wouldn’t be killed in only four chapters."

  "True," Jack said, "Let’s go and take my government car. I’m sure that boat you came in is in no condition to take any further."

  "Especially not once the Admiral sees what it did to his Yugo," Jim grinned, "Still driving the Gremlin?"

  "Of course," Jack said, "We’ve destroyed too many cars to be issued anything built after 1980."