Doogan here and I’m lucky to be alive!
This dispatch continues from where I left off in my previous
missive wherein Lt. Merian Archer and I were finishing a scant but hard-earned
meal in the muddy street of a remote up-river village. Suddenly the ground
rocked with a violet explosion! Chaos erupted in the market as panicked
villagers abandoned their stalls in terror. Staccato burst of machinegun fire
tore the air and Lt. Archer and I dove for cover beneath crates of cabbage, a
pal of acrid smoke enveloping us.
The instigators of this heinous attack on defenseless
villagers began to emerge from the oily grey haze. I could barely contain my
astonishment. Clad from head to toe in rubber coated coveralls, faces obscured
by hideous gas masks which sprouted breathing tubes attached to chrome
cylinders, these villains were a veritable image from the medieval notion of
Hades.
Lt. Archer brought his side arm to bear on the apparent
leader. His shot caught the masked figure in the shoulder. At once the
marauders poured their fire in our direction, spraying shredded cabbage
everywhere. My attempt to surrender was nullified by Merian’s determination to
make a hopeless last stand.
It was then that I noticed that the ground, in which my nose
was buried, had darkened. Glancing up I saw an unnaturally low cloud formation
overhead, almost touching the village rooftops. At once the shooting ceased. To
my continued astonishment, the rubber suited attackers seemed to leap into the
air and disappear into the strange cloud.
I turned to Lt. Archer but at that instant there was a blinding flash
and I lost consciousness.
When I came to I was suffering a hangover befitting Uncle
Ernie’s worst bathtub gin and Lt. Archer was nowhere to be seen. I realized now
that my quest for missing American genius, Dr. Raullo Ortega, was to be a
stranger adventure then even I had imagined it would be. Turn the lights off Ma
and let the cat out. This is Doogan signing off.
