A little snippet to add to the previous little snippet. Come to think of it, isn’t life just a series of little snippets?

[Begin the Beguine \\ Artie Shaw]

88/66.5.1

The Huey landed at the CAThouse adjacent to the old Presidio, and the Doc escorted Deborah and Brendan to a waiting Land Rover — and then, after DD and the Doc got in, the four of them drove over to the Wharf for lunch. Deborah had a million questions she wanted to ask, but all DD was willing to talk about was the unseasonably warm weather the Bay Area was experiencing. After arriving at Scoma’s the Doc studied his menu with assiduous effort, finally settling on a coquille St. Jacques and the Dover sole amandine, recommending the same to Brendan. DD had her usual seafood Louie — while Deborah watched the unfolding proceedings with something akin to astonished agony bubbling away just under the surface of a steaming caldron.

Then she finally broke down and blurted: “I thought Frank Bullitt had passed on?”

“So he did,” the Doc replied casually.

“But…” she cried, “he was there!”

“So he was,” the Doc replied, again without so much as a sniffle.

“But…how can you explain that!?”

“I can’t.”

“Aren’t you at all curious?” Deborah wailed.

And after both DD and the Doc shook their heads Deborah just shrugged and let the matter drop. Brendan, of course, had no idea who Frank Bullitt was — beyond what was revealed in his sky-bound equations — so he really didn’t care at all. Yet Deborah waded through the stultifying lunch with more and more questions boiling to mind with each passing minute…

But when lunch was over, and after the Doc paid the bill, DD drove them back to the CAThouse and everyone re-boarded the Huey — and a few minutes later they were northbound passing the Golden Gate. Forty minutes later the Huey circled Harry’s house and Deborah stared at the scene in disbelief — and she was soon about to burst as the scale of things began to unveil before her eyes…

…for it looked as though nothing had happened earlier that day. The wrecked house and the burning studios were now intact and, apparently, undamaged. There were no mangled helicopters and no crumpled bodies in the street, no shattered glass and the copper roof on the house looked brand new.

And as the Huey settled on the old asphalt pavement she saw Harry and Didi walk out of the house, and Harry was Harry again. He was old now and his stainless steel prosthetic gleamed in the midday sun, while Didi too seemed her cheerful older self once again. Harry came up to the Huey as the rotors spooled down and he helped everyone out before walking back up to the house, and for some reason even Brendan wanted to let bygones be bygones as he sidled up to Didi and walked back to the house — only now he was holding her hand!

‘Has the world suddenly gone crazy?’ Deborah thought, walking along behind Didi and Brendan, and with DD and the Doc bringing up the rear.

And yet the insanity continued once back inside the house. Nothing was damaged. Harry’s Bösendorfer was right where it had been yesterday and the day before that. The slate floors were as new, undamaged and almost looking at they might have the day they were laid, and it was the same everywhere she looked. Curious now, she went to the bedroom and the palm scanner in Harry’s closet was gone, and now there was absolutely no sign it have ever been there…

She sighed and went back to the kitchen and was about to put on water for tea when she noticed that everyone was down on the rocks and headed for the beach — so she followed them as quickly as she could. At one point she heard the helicopter taking off and turned to watch it leave, then she resumed following everyone down through the rocky passageway to the beach…

…yet when she arrived on the beach no one was to be found…not even a footprint in the sand…

…yet now there was only a lone orca waiting beyond the nearest line of breaking surf, and it seemed to be waiting for her… 

© 2016-22 adrian leverkühn | abw | and as always, thanks for stopping by for a look around the memory warehouse…

[Loggins & Messina \\ Watching the River Run]