mind-bending and absolutely awe-inspiring. Nothing. The sun rose higher in the sky, the day got warmer, so Dale opened up a window, the scent of summer blowing in with a gentle breeze — nothing unusual happened at all.
It was a real anti-climax.
Dale's stomach gurgled loudly; he suddenly realized just how hungry he was. Maybe some breakfast would take their minds off things? It was always like that after drinking a little too much on a Friday night.
"Breakfast?"
"Ooh, yes please? Can we have the works?"
"You got it baby? How many sausages?"
"Two please. And two toast, three bacon and two eggs."
"You are hungry," laughed Dale.
"I know, it must be the excitement. Hash browns too. Four."
"Which is it? Two or four?"
"No, hash brown too. And I want four. Please."
"Okay you got it."
Dale went off to make breakfast, thankful to have something to keep himself busy. He absolutely hated waiting around: if the postman was ten minutes late he got edgy. He couldn't imagine just hanging around all day, or maybe even for months or years, waiting for things to make more sense and for something to actually happen.
He turned on the oven and then busied himself getting everything ready. It was almost impossible to concentrate though; he simply couldn't get the word Hexad out of his mind.
Why the hell would I make this so hard for myself? Stupid.
"Dale! What are you doing?"
"Eh? What? Oh." Dale realized he was just about to put the sausages in the oven still in the pack. His mind really wasn't working properly. "Oops. Sorry."
"Yeah well, I don't want my sausages to taste of burned plastic, thank you very much. Here, let me do it." Amanda came over to help, taking the pack from Dale.
"Okay, you sort them out. I'll go get the eggs."
"Okay. Check that they've got water will you?"
"Sure, no problem." Dale went out into the garden and walked to the far corner where the chicken coop was, sited within a small penned area for the birds. They'd ended up with four, even though they originally only intended to get two, so it meant they ate eggs most days. After checking they were fine for water and feed Dale gathered up the eggs and made his way back to the house, birds calling to each other from hedges, the robin hopping about in front of him expectantly.
He saw the squirrel leaping from tree to tree and wondered if it would ever just bugger off so he wouldn't have to spend so much on feed all the time.
"Shit!" Dale dropped the eggs that were held in front of him in cupped hands, and began running back to the house. "Gotta get Amanda. This doesn't look good."
They lived in a small end of terrace, their first home together, bought for cash after Amanda's dad had died and left everything to her, her mum having passed away when she was young. The garden wrapped around the side and rear with a small area at the front from where Dale saw two very serious looking individuals marching down the street towards him — it was obvious they were coming to their home, why else would there be two men with the weirdest outfits on he'd ever seen and clearly not looking to try to sell them double glazing?
Dale ran into the kitchen as the men stopped at the gate to the front garden and discussed something. One of them looked at his wrist, then they both disappeared.
"Amanda, Amanda, we've got to go, things have got crazy finally, and—"
Damn, too late. Here we go then.
Amanda was staring at him wide-eyed. The two men were in the kitchen, one of them peering suspiciously at the hash browns on a tray ready to go in the oven, the other had her in a choke hold, his thin shirt so dark it was sucking the light out of the sunny kitchen. Both were covered head to toe in similar fabric and they had matching long black hair so straight it hung down their backs like a pair of ironing boards.
"We were early," said the man by the oven, turning a hash brown over in his hand, totally nonplussed.
"Hey, what the hell? You were just at the gate."
"Like I
It was a real anti-climax.
Dale's stomach gurgled loudly; he suddenly realized just how hungry he was. Maybe some breakfast would take their minds off things? It was always like that after drinking a little too much on a Friday night.
"Breakfast?"
"Ooh, yes please? Can we have the works?"
"You got it baby? How many sausages?"
"Two please. And two toast, three bacon and two eggs."
"You are hungry," laughed Dale.
"I know, it must be the excitement. Hash browns too. Four."
"Which is it? Two or four?"
"No, hash brown too. And I want four. Please."
"Okay you got it."
Dale went off to make breakfast, thankful to have something to keep himself busy. He absolutely hated waiting around: if the postman was ten minutes late he got edgy. He couldn't imagine just hanging around all day, or maybe even for months or years, waiting for things to make more sense and for something to actually happen.
He turned on the oven and then busied himself getting everything ready. It was almost impossible to concentrate though; he simply couldn't get the word Hexad out of his mind.
Why the hell would I make this so hard for myself? Stupid.
"Dale! What are you doing?"
"Eh? What? Oh." Dale realized he was just about to put the sausages in the oven still in the pack. His mind really wasn't working properly. "Oops. Sorry."
"Yeah well, I don't want my sausages to taste of burned plastic, thank you very much. Here, let me do it." Amanda came over to help, taking the pack from Dale.
"Okay, you sort them out. I'll go get the eggs."
"Okay. Check that they've got water will you?"
"Sure, no problem." Dale went out into the garden and walked to the far corner where the chicken coop was, sited within a small penned area for the birds. They'd ended up with four, even though they originally only intended to get two, so it meant they ate eggs most days. After checking they were fine for water and feed Dale gathered up the eggs and made his way back to the house, birds calling to each other from hedges, the robin hopping about in front of him expectantly.
He saw the squirrel leaping from tree to tree and wondered if it would ever just bugger off so he wouldn't have to spend so much on feed all the time.
"Shit!" Dale dropped the eggs that were held in front of him in cupped hands, and began running back to the house. "Gotta get Amanda. This doesn't look good."
They lived in a small end of terrace, their first home together, bought for cash after Amanda's dad had died and left everything to her, her mum having passed away when she was young. The garden wrapped around the side and rear with a small area at the front from where Dale saw two very serious looking individuals marching down the street towards him — it was obvious they were coming to their home, why else would there be two men with the weirdest outfits on he'd ever seen and clearly not looking to try to sell them double glazing?
Dale ran into the kitchen as the men stopped at the gate to the front garden and discussed something. One of them looked at his wrist, then they both disappeared.
"Amanda, Amanda, we've got to go, things have got crazy finally, and—"
Damn, too late. Here we go then.
Amanda was staring at him wide-eyed. The two men were in the kitchen, one of them peering suspiciously at the hash browns on a tray ready to go in the oven, the other had her in a choke hold, his thin shirt so dark it was sucking the light out of the sunny kitchen. Both were covered head to toe in similar fabric and they had matching long black hair so straight it hung down their backs like a pair of ironing boards.
"We were early," said the man by the oven, turning a hash brown over in his hand, totally nonplussed.
"Hey, what the hell? You were just at the gate."
"Like I
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