Image Credit Pixabay.com – Lolame
Death by Chocolate Cake
“Chocolate cake please,” said Henry Bear, as he sat in the bullet train now speeding across Japan at more than 200 miles per hour.
The train attendant took a slice of chocolate cake off the rolling dinner tray, and sat it on a small table next to Henry Bear. She then took a polite bow before continuing forward in the train, on her way to a group of Olympians.
The Olympians could be seen all over the train car. Their strong physique and determined look. They smiled broadly with enthusiastic laughs, yet they were all business looking for gold, not tourists awestruck at the historic Japanese architecture.
Henry Bear had his own seating area. He took off his N95 Mask, took a sip of coffee and then a giant bite of chocolate cake. The freshly baked moist cake melted away leaving a thick rich chocolate icing taste. He took another sip of coffee. The hot liquid getting into his teeth where the chocolate icing had taken root. The two mixed, then dissolved sliding down his throat.
Next to him, inside a Hemp plastic tubular container, sat the blueprints to the Hemp Satellite. He had saved them from the old barn explosion. Now he was in Japan to meet Liu Hui, a skilled engineer, with whom he’d worked with before. They shared a vision of Hemp, being central to the future green economy, a renewable resource for next generation ecological technology.
The Hemp Satellite, just one of many possible breakouts for the industry. The reason for the Hemp Satellite: Space Junk.
All satellites to this point in our civilization are made of metals. There are thousands of satellites in space right now that are no longer operational. Only as the population of these satellites increases, so does the likelihood of collisions, creating more metal parts, speeding around the earth while in orbit. Hypothetically, all of these pieces of metal could one day make space travel impossible.
Future satellites made from Hemp could solve this problem, once the Space Junk is removed, while maintaining a fleet of satellites for our civilization’s needs.
Henry Bear took another bite of chocolate cake. His eyes scanning the scene flashing passed the windows of the bullet train. A graveyard stacked high on the hillside. The cement sarcophagus streaks of gray and black. Then the reflection of a man walking toward him on the train.
Henry Bear turned his attention to the aisle where the same man stood before him. He made eye contact, feeling the darkness in his stare, a coldness gripped his body. Henry Bear put his mask back on, just as the stranger nudged passed him, then fell back into the seat across from him.
Only the table with Henry Bear’s coffee and chocolate cake, separated the two, in this private first class seating area.
“Can I help you?” Henry Bear said. The chill persisted to be a new phenomenon replacing his well being.
“What?” Asked the stranger.
“Can I help you?” repeated Henry Bear.
“Sorry, I couldn’t make out what you were saying with the mask muffling the words from your mouth. Is that chocolate cake?” The stranger spoke with a slight French accent. He wore no mask. He had a five o’clock shadow, while dressed casually cool in a blue jumpsuit that could signal he had a position on the maintenance crew of this train. Only he presented himself as polished clean; familiar with office walls inside French palaces.
“Yes, it’s chocolate cake.” Answered Henry Bear. The two were on a bullet train in Japan. Just as this chocolate cake had Nama chocolate made locally. It didn’t contain the added preservatives imported from a foreign country. So, who could this maintenance man be, if it didn’t define his profession?
“Robert York sent me to pick up those plans. You know a lot of people are upset about these ideas your spreading Henry Bear. Hemp can save the world and all that. Where do people like you come from? Why can’t you just stay holed up? Why are you traveling the world? You know this entire globe has been drawn up. Only you’re not a board member.”
“Robert York! Weeks ago, my family and I, had a terrible vacation mishap with some sharks. That’s the first time I heard the name Robert York. Then my old barn set on fire before a violent explosion. Witnesses say they saw attack helicopters. What’s all this business with Robert York?” Demanded Henry Bear.
“Robert York is business Henry Bear.”
Then Henry Bear could taste it. The slight hint of almonds, cyanide!
Henry Bear ripped his face free of the N95 Mask, then put his hand in his mouth, as he jumped out into the train aisle. On his hand and knees, he induced himself to start vomiting.
The Frenchman stepped over him, walking toward the front of the train, with the Hemp Satellite blue prints in his hand. A crowd of spectators noticed the scene he had created, on the floor, puking.
The train attendant’s face pure panic. Some Olympians looked confuse. Then one of the athletes dropped dead.
“He’s poisoned the chocolate cake!” Heaved Henry Bear with some of what remained of his lifeforce.
All attention turned to the unshaven Frenchman in the blue jumpsuit. He made a dash back toward Henry Bear, only one Olympian tackled him, then others piled on to pin him down.
The train attendant screaming for security who Henry Bear could see further down the train car. The slick black rim of their hats shielding their eyes.
To be continued…
Red Roses, Read by Kira Omans:
Trappin in Japan 13