Part 5
Not Long After, Running Through The Woods.
“I don’t have an accent!” I whisper. The ground is muddy and my feet sink in the leaf litter with each step.
Nepotism continues undeterred. “That, and your vernacular. I mean, ‘crick?’”
“It’s smaller than a creek.”
“No, no, no.”
“Yes, yes, yes," I say. "A ‘crick’ is smaller than a ‘creek.’ It has to do with the depth.” Still no sign of assailants hidden in the trees. Nepotism is carrying an Ex-caliber .45 Deluxe Bird of Prey, the most powerful handgun produced by Alternatron Firearms, if not the most powerful handgun in the entire world. I’m carrying the shotgun, but am ready to back it up with my Nik-Plate Alternatron Desert Talon 6: Special Edition Seventeen Chamber .9mm. We left Kerouac blown apart in the living room, but there is no telling if any angry writers may be searching for us out here. “If you can go fishing in it, but you can’t make a swimmin’ hole, it’s a ‘crick.’” I point past the embankment where we are briskly walking. “Nothing here but sucker fish, if anything. Maybe we’ll get a minnow.”
“Sometimes I don’t even want to know you.”
“If there is swimmin’ hole capability, but most of it was less than knee deep, it’s a creek, and not a stream, which is like a river, but not big enough for boats. Don’t get me started on about ponds, lakes, and seas.”
“So a ‘creek’ wouldn’t sustain a shark?” Nepotism asks, breathing heavy against our quickened pace.
“Heaven’s no!” I cry.
“What about Matawan Creek? You remember, where that shark bit three people?”
“That was 1915. Bodies of water were measured differently before World War Two. The Nazis came along and changed everything. If you look on a newer map, it’s called Matawan River. That was changed in 1956 to fight Communism.”
The trees are starting to get a little more dense, and at this point, evergreens are dimming the light. I’m working harder to find anyone who may be in an ambush position. “I think they are going to try and hit us when we get to the crick.”
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