Jean-Baptiste Dupree spent maybe half an hour in the car. Eddy had on a radio station that played rock from the 50s and 60s, and he didn’t talk. JB had thought the Black Valentine talked too much, but now he wished she was there to fill the silence. When Eddy stopped the car, he got out and had a muffled conversation with someone before telling JB to get out, too.
They climbed up metal stairs and entered something that JB figured out was an airplane when the cabin pressurized. It must have been a private one, because there didn’t seem to be anyone else on it besides the pilot. It figured the Black Valentine had a private plane. She’d probably robbed enough banks to own a whole fleet of planes. Eddy spoke again, his gravelly voice asking if JB wanted anything to eat or drink. JB ended up with a Sprite and a bag of Doritos, which were the highlight of the boring, quiet flight. They landed about two hours later, got into another car, and maybe an hour after that, stopped at what JB assumed was their destination.
JB smelled pine trees before they went inside. Then Eddy led him through twisting hallways, across thick carpet and smooth wood before finally grunting “sit” and pushing him down onto a soft couch.
“Jean-Baptiste Dupree,” said a voice as dry and brittle as an old book. “We meet at last. So you’re the one that all this fuss has been about?” Continue reading “Tick, Tick, Boom!” – Epilogue