The Quest for Paradise

As a sophomore in college I had been almost laughed off of a dig once because of showing up in the romanticized version of shorts with a white billowy shirt half unbuttoned to show a snug tank top below. I'd stayed the whole day at the dig site just because. The shirt had become permanently stained brown in places and my knees had bled.

I raised my arm up to peek at my watch. The government was five minutes late.

Normally I didn't wear watches as I didn't care for tracking the passage of time, but I thought it might be useful to have a watch this time as I could always pop the crystal shield cover off and use it to start a fire.

I'm not sure why even from the onset of this expedition that I expected things to go wrong, but I very much was. That said I still felt that I was supposed to go.

"C'mon!" I groused. It was getting a bit toasty in the Virginia sunlight with long sleeves and pants on.

Another five minutes went by and then with a roar of extra horses to spare a big black SUV peeled around a corner. But of course it was black, as all big hunking government vehicles seemed to be. That at least was true to the movies.

It came to a rolling stop alongside the curb and two men got out. One was the size of the Hulk and for the most part had only an expression of vague perceived consciousness about his face. It was creepy.

The other man was shorter, but well-built with the smile of a used car salesman. Of the two I considered him the most dangerous.

"Sorry we're late. Have you been waiting long?" Smooth Dude asked affably, while Beef Man approach to lift my backpack up without any perceived effort.

However upon lifting the bag Beef Man glanced from it to me and his smallish close set eyes seemed to ask a question. As if telepathically the Smooth Dude asked the unsaid thought of the other, "You sure you're going to be able to carry that bag honey?"

Defensively I squared my shoulders and said, "I'm strong for my size and I wouldn't have packed it as I did if I wasn't able to carry it."

The man's eyebrows arched some and he looked about to argue when the back window of the SUV rolled down partway and a voice said, "Stow the lady's bag Harper. I have no doubt that she means what she says."

The Smooth Dude shut up on the spot of whatever he'd been about to say and Beef Man hustled with my bag to the back hatch.