HB's Great Adventure - Introduction

Each week, like the old Saturday afternoon movie serials -- a new installment in the ADVENTURES OF HB, each installment 500-550 words. Here's the kick-off.

HB's Great Adventure

HB whispered hoarsely into the receiver; its cold stung his bare chin, "Say what? An' now we can't ... Naw! ...  You wait a minute. I'm the one out here on this edge. I done walked half the South Side jus' lookin' for a damn pay phone to call you... and now you come up with this?"

The lady with the bratty children stood impatiently by.  The three of them were squabbling, round-robin, in a language HB had never heard before.  He listened for clues of Spanish, French, even Swahili.  Nothing . That, in itself seemed strange.   The kids were annoying their mother, and now she was beginning to annoy him.  It was enough to make HB want to take his time, exact some measure of revenge, but he had long given up on spite as a waste of a serious man's time. And HB was especially serious right now.

With a gesture   universally understood to mean, ‘hold on, just a minute,’  HB held up a gloved right index finger and smiled at the group.  The warmness he forced into his smile drew the attentive group closer, except for her.  The matriarch cuffed one, and gruffly pulled the other one of her young back closer to her.  The look she gave HB was neither one of suspicion, nor impatience.  It was something else even more disquieting for being so indefinable.

HB held up his free right hand, open palms gently pawing the cold night air as if to acknowledge the impatient woman’s wait, and to plead for forbearance.   He growled into the receiver and said, "Look, Marsha. You knew what this was when you signed on. You can get weak now if you want to, but this train is rollin' now, and it ain't gon' stop for you. And when it comes to doin' your part, I wouldn't want to be you, if you don't. So you best figure out what you gon' say to that fool, but say it fast and say it right. In a half hour, this will all be done.  I won't even tell nobody how you just tried to flake on me. But you better figure out how you gon' end up a winner, come up standing.  Everybody ain't gon' be standing!"

HB hung up the phone, shrugged his shoulders to make his collar rise up to his ears and turned from the pay phone.  He stood and smiled at the children who smiled back, but continued to speak gibberish to each other.   The mother continued to eye him coolly. He stood impassively, only to make the woman and her brats walk around him, rather than give them the right of way.  HB then walked -- stomped actually -- through the five inches depth of what hours ago had been new-fallen snow, but now had turned into icy, dirty, mid-city slush.

Walking away, HB checked his cell phone for messages. There were none. Good. Not leaving any traces on anything done or said tonight was definitely a good thing.

HB removed his fleece-lined glove and sunk his bare right hand into his coat pocket. He felt the hardness, the coldness, the weight of steel, sunk low in the pocket.

It was time.  Come what may, the finish line was in sight.

Reviews

[Dutch Jr.]

Interesting. A very gripping, inviting opening. Your narrating was extremely well-written, and you set the winter-like scene really well, and the family waiting behind HB, and the dialogue between him and the woman on the phone had a nice feel of reality to it. Can't wait to read more.