India Rose & The Eternals - The Fountain Of Youth Chronicles Vol. 1

Epilogue

  The Hope Springs Town Beach, Hope Springs, 1982, 3:45 P.M, 41st Day of Summer 

At first, it began small; a report here, a bit of a rumor there. And like a spark to dry tinder, the flame of the story grew and grew.

An early morning Coast Guard helicopter flight over where the oil slick had been moving the previous day, revealed clear ocean water and sparkling waves. The helicopter pilot radioed back to home base that the slick was gone. He was told by his commanding officer that he was seeing things, that it was just a trick of the early morning light. As the helicopter circled the area, a small lobster boat passed by unnoticed underneath, making its way home in the dawn light with a catch of intrepid adventurers freshly plucked from the sea.

That conversation between the pilot and home base was overheard on a radio scanner by a television news cameraman, who was sleeping on a cot in his news van near the beach (most of the hotel rooms in the coastal area were taken by the more important members of the press.) This cameraman, half awake, but sensing a story in the making (and possibly a promotion) started up the news van in the pink light of the morning, and drove over to Hope Spring's finest bed and breakfast (The Anderson Inn) and knocked heavily on the door of room 103. A sleepy, but still somehow glamorous face appeared in the door.

"What is it, Steve?" asked the TV reporter, tucking her long blond hair behind her ears and hugging herself for warmth.

"Something's happened to the oil, Charlotte; I just heard it over the scanner. If we can scramble a chopper right now and go out there, we might get the scoop before the rest of these network ninnies can even drink their coffee. But, I need you to authorize the ride; the folks back in New York won't even pick up the phone if it isn't you on the line. The network has a bird chartered over at the rinky-dink airport they've got out here, but we can't get anything going without you."

The woman, sensing the urgency in her cameraman's voice, perked up a bit, enough to say "coffee?"

"I got it right here, Charlotte," he said, handing her a steaming mug. "Now will you make that phone call or should we let ABN News get the jump on us?"

The network reporter took a sip of coffee, paused for a brief moment, and then spoke with the type of authority granted on-air network reporting talent.

"Go get the equipment ready and fire up the monitors. I'll be ready in five minutes! Have them hold that chopper for us. Don't let any of these false-tanned meat-heads steal our chopper from us."

With this, she slammed the door, and Lou, a smile on his lips, returned to the news van and sat down at the computer controls of the satellite that was bolted to the top of the vehicle. With practiced precision, he rotated the satellite dish around till he found a strong signal, and then typed out a simple message onto the screen and pushed send.

From: Sector Three Search Team

We have found them. Confirmation code to follow in three hours.

Across the planet, a man with a withered face and a raspy, dry cough sat back in his chair and laughed a wicked laugh. He then stood up, put on a brown hat, and walked out of the room, having been ready for ninety years for this day.

To Be Continued...