Breaking the Ice- Chapter 6

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic

Don't forget to catch up on the series!

Submitted: March 04, 2018

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Submitted: March 04, 2018



There isn't enough coffee in the world.

News of the disaster in Verandi reached them around noon. Morice's Searow flew into the guard house with her owners dogtags in her beak. By the time they got there, Vanessa was out, the new girl was unconscious and the left side of Morice's rib cage was bruised.

He was the luckiest of them all, save for Lars.


His fingers clenched around the handle of his mug and squeezed.

Such a waste of time and money. That little experiment wrung them dry of resources and for what? Injuries and death?

Standing at his window with the grounds beneath him, he watched his men come and go. Some struggled through the knee deep snow, ice hanging from the gutters. Said ice reflected the sunlight into the office, though the sun itself did little to warm the frozen tundra.

Unless one managed to move into the tropic region further north, the entire region was a block of frozen misery.

When they got there, to where Morice and that girl was, she was coughing up enough blood to swim in.

Then there were the Carter twins.

The one that's left.

A knock came shortly after, breaking him of his thoughts.

“Arlia.” He called over his shoulder to his long time friend, a Blazikin with golden, almond shaped eyes and a lengthy draw to her stature. She nodded before going for the door.

“Sir.” Ms. Morre, his secretary and childhood nanny, poked her head in. “Mr. Stotler is on line two.” He answered with a sigh.

“I'm guessing everyone knows by now.”

“You won't know until you answer the phone,” She blew a huff of air upwards, whisking a grayed strand from her vision. “I'll bring lunch in at noon. I better see a clean plate when I come back.”

“I don't have time-” With the phone in his dominant hand, he paused with his finger hovering over the button. Glancing up, he caught her severe glare and reiterated. “Yes ma'am.”

“That's right yes ma'am. I powdered your butt, remember that.”

He responded with a quivering twitch of the lips. It sufficed for a smile.

“Thanks for the visual.”

“You're welcome....” She turned to leave but backtracked. “Tuna casserole by the way. No mayonnaise, just how you like it,” She was given a nod and took it as acceptance. “That boy worries me...” She mumbled this to herself as she trudged down the hall.


“Riker I-”

“Heard about the fuck up, I'm sure.”

The voice on the other line paused. Knowing Stotler, it was to either light a cigarette or take a long drag.

“I was just calling to see if you needed any men. I have a few to spare.”

“I'm down two grunts. Lost a scientist too, but the new girl fills in the role,” He thought of the great loss that was Caleb Carter and sighed into the phone. “Lost a damn good one.”

“How much has it cost you?”

“I don't want to talk finances.”

“I'm not trying to cause problems....” Riker knew better than to snap. He and Stotler went back, back to diaper days. They were neighbors, his father a high ranking member in the organization. Not for very long, granted. (It was a long story), but if there was ever a man he'd trust, it was Stotler.

“I know, I'm just frustrated. I thought we had something with Lars' little project. Extra work without running our men into the ground.”

“The last years have been hard on all of us.”

“Yeah, and this frozen little dirt ball has the worst of it. Then they start setting up gyms and we have trainers poking around in our business.” He scraped his fingertips from his bangs into his scalp. He was rather vain when it came to his appearance.

Hair cut short? Always.

Black? Always.

Though, as he glanced into the mirror on his desk, he noticed his roots were growing in and grumbled.

“I need to check in with the infirmary. I haven't heard from the nurse in a while.”


“No. Our newest arrival hasn't left her bed, making sure we haven't lost another one,” They said a few more words, mostly asinine, before Riker pressed the button to cut the call. From there he pressed another and waited for the ring. “Hey, I need you to call the infirmary and check on the girl.....Also, send a bouquet and my condolences to Miss. Carter....considering his death was on our watch, we're responsible for the burial....yeah, sure.” There was a click on the other end. Examining the brewer from his desk, he wondered if he should bother making a third pot.

Lately, he was never sure of what to do.


© Copyright 2018 Richard Mapes. All rights reserved.

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