— EPILOGUE —
Spring had at last arrived and released its icy grip from the fingers of a long, cold, English winter. On a mild spring morning, the birds sang in the trees. The lambs jumped and frolicked in the fields. Fish splashed around in the babbling brooks, and a euphoric feeling abounded in sunny old Blighty and it felt a good day to be alive. Everything was happy. People were happy. Animals were happy. The plants and trees were happy, and Nick was happy as he sat in the departure lounge of Gatwick airport.
He smirked as he thought, ‘Bimen airways, Bangladesh airlines’, never in a million years, and Gatwick airport, no chance it’s too far for them.’
He took a long gulp from his pint of lager, while he recalled the events from his previous encounter, and remembered the pain from his arm, mouth, head, backside, and finally his broken clavicle. He ran his tongue over his new crowned teeth. ‘Last holiday cost me a fortune, and most of it I spent in bloody hospital,’ he thought, ‘not again, no sir.’
He planned to fly to Bangkok on a inexpensive return flight with Bimen Airways. He would then go to Pattaya and, if they were not there, he would stay. However, if they were in Pattaya, he would head to the now re-developed Phuket. He had left instructions with his sister, that if they called she was to tell them that he had gone to London to work.
Nick felt pleased with himself and moved his stool closer to the small table, and took another gulp of his lager.
Nick passed away the time people watching as he waited for his flight to be announced. He watched the world go by as he enjoyed his refreshing pint. He took another swig from his quarter full pint. He held his glass to his lips and suddenly felt an icy chill course through his body. He looked over the rim of his glass and saw two figures approach him. Fear gripped him like cold steel. He stood bolt upright, and hit his knees on the bottom of the small, but heavy, table, and instinctively fell forward and hit his head, and mouth, with full force on the edge of the table.
Stunned, he fell to the floor and rolled onto his back. His mouth and nose throbbed and he could taste his own blood. He spat out a lump of blood, mucous, and his new crowns. He groggily looked up in pained surprised at the ceiling of the departure lounge. Two heads popped into view and looked down on him.
“Mate, that looks painful,” said Spock.
“Just lay there and we will go to get you some help,” joined in Stu.
Just for the time being.
THE END