17

Chapter 17

2:26 p.m.

Colonel BB made a grand entrance by breaking down the mop closet door and hopping over to stand, visibly exhausted, before our strange little consort. Tiki swaggered in behind, not fully bought in on the plan, or his involvement with it. They were both covered from head to toe in dark brown earth. The Colonel was wearing a yellow miner's helmet with a headlamp attached, and he held a pick mattock in his right hand, and a pistol in his left.
Out of breath, he wheezed, "If you think you have time to stand around and gawk at the face of the savior, you don't. Follow me. These people aren't messin' around. You should see the hardware they've got out there, and I can only assume that they know how to use it."
With that, he turned on his one boot and hopped like a battle-hardened jack rabbit with an attitude back into the mop closet, which was still bellowing a thick dust. Bufford grabbed the Fritos display and, effectually, the woman attached to it, and clumsily moved toward the door. Edgar and I followed, confused, but for some reason, relieved...against all sense of good sense. Like a group of deep sea divers, we all held our breath and disappeared one after another, into the cloud of thick dust.