#TimeTravelingGhost Part 32: Episode 2: 1937: The Hindenburg Part R
#Wss366 #TimeTravelAuthors 17. How athletic are your characters?
“You look pale,” the man said, his voice made harsh by a German accent.
Pale? Of course I was. I was being interrogated by an unknown German, surrounded by Nazi rabbits that no one but Emily and I could see. My instinct was to run, but that would have been futile. I’d never been athletic, and even if I could outrun them, where on the Hindenburg could I go?
I supplied a plausible answer to the man’s question: “Last night’s fish may not have agreed with me.”
I had trouble keeping my eyes off the rabbits, so I focused on the man’s face. It faintly resembled Bismarck’s except for the bits of food in his walrus mustache. It was a ludicrous note that helped restore my equilibrium. As long as I kept my eyes off the rabbits, I’d be okay.
“At what theater will you be appearing? I would like to see your show, and I think my friends would enjoy it too.”
With his thick accent, I couldn’t tell if he’d emphasized the word “friends.” I instantly pictured brownshirts dealing with a suspected spy—me. It wasn’t fair, but with his SS companions, I couldn’t help it.
“Bijou, I think. My manager handles those things, but I’m pretty sure that’s the name.” It was the first likely theater name to pop into my head. They certainly couldn’t know all the stages’ names.
Then, behind me, I heard Emily say, “It’s on the Lower East Side. You’re part of a festival planned around the showing of ‘The Great Gambini.’”
I repeated what Emily said.
“Good, I will be sure to book tickets for your show, and maybe you can read my mind. I’ll be thinking sweet things about the woman I’m with,” he finished with a leer and a wink. It reminded me of my #father.
With that, he left to join his table, leaving a #wake of unease behind him. I signaled a steward: “An LZ-129 and whatever Miss Pang is drinking.” The order gave me time for the rabbits to wander off, and LZ-129’s orange juice would help wash away the taste of that last wink.
As the rabbits exited the lounge, I joined Miss Pang. I smiled, raised my old-fashioned glass, and toasted her. The tangy orange juice combined with the mellow bite of quality gin soothed my ruffled nerves. It was going to be a long day.