Final Jeopardy

Doug Donnan                                                                       

Executive Editor OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

*This story is based upon actual experimentation with 'chicken feathers'!

 

"Final Jeopardy"                                         

by    
Doug Donnan

                            

  

                             Pollito Research Center///Festus Missouri

     "I can't believe it!" General Yardley exclaimed as he slapped himself lightly on

the forehead. "What did you say this stuff is made out of-- chicken feathers?"

     "Yes sir, for the most part that's right," professor Molonari replied as he

straightened up and brushed his hands down the front of his white lab smock. "Seems

hard to believe doesn't it? It's as light as aluminum and ten times stronger than steel!"

     Both of the men were staring down at the glistening piece of gossamer as if they

were waiting for the tough, web-like material to explain itself to them.

"Just who in the hell else knows about this chicken wing recipe of yours professor?"  

 "Only my wife, and she is privy to most everything that I do not just my

laboratory experiments!" Molonari chuckled lightly"I understand that doc," Yardley replied as he looked up at Molonari with a grin.

  "Can you show me around the rest of the facility you have here. Maybe I can have

a brief look at a few of your other experiments?""Certainly, anything for our government!" Molonari answered proudly.

     He escorted the General around and through the entire laboratory and surrounding

research complex. General Yardley seemed genuinely impressed by all

the state-of-the-art equipment that the facility housed. He was no dummy or figure-

head sent in from the military. For almost ten years he had helped spearhead the

Agricultural Research Service (ARS), a technically innovative agency that was over

fifty years old. The Pentagon (which had overt and covert intermediaries with an

ear to the ground on almost all types of scientific and technological research) was

extremely interested in professor Molonari's rather eccentric, but reportedly ground

breaking work, in the 'field' of chicken feathers. The top brass had sent Yardley out

to hook up with the professor and pick his brain if not his pocket.       

     "I'm almost speechless professor Molonari," Yardley exclaimed as they pushed 

through the swinging doors that opened into the little vending machine cafeteria. "All that from some Goddam chickens?"

     Molonari had stopped abruptly in front of a monolithic coin machine and slipped

a five dollar bill into its jutting metal lip. After a series of mechanical cranking and

shifting noises a small glacier of coins dumped out into the return well. The professor

scooped them up and handed some of the change to the General.

     "Here ya' go General--lunch is on me!" He threw out his arm in a wide sweeping arc at the bank of machines lined up against the wall.

     "How about just coffee?" Yardley said with a frown as he stared down at the

long row of rather intimidating vending machines. "I gotta' catch my flight back to

Washington here shortly."

     "Oh--I see," Molonari replied as he took a peek at his watch. "What airline do

you all fly by the way?" he asked innocently.

     They both shuffled crab-like down the line of machines until they reached the coffee

dispenser. "We generally fly on United," he answered as he sifted through the coins in

his hand.

     "Oh!"

     "On the United States of America! Comprende professor?"

     "Oh--yes, I understand." Molonari said with a troubled smile.

     As they stood there awkwardly blowing down on their steaming cardboard coffee cups

General Yardley turned and stared down at the diminutive professor's balding pate.

     "Just one more thing professor."

     "Yes sir, what's that?"

     "I'm going to need a sample of that super feather meshing to take back with me, that

chicken wire creation of yours. Okay?"

     Molonari hesitated and then stepped back somewhat. "Well, I'm not really sure if I can--"

     "Your government needs this professor!" Yardley broke in undaunted.

*     *     *

                                              

'The final jeopardy category is, Government Agencies. We'll be right back!'

     Phantasia Molonari leaped to her feet and scurried off into the kitchen to check on

the mystery pot roast she had thrown together earlier that afternoon. She had learned

from first hand experience that crock pots don't lie! Only preparation was the key,

and you could build the rest of your day and evening around everything that you

might donate to its' patient cooking prowess. The silent god--the true kitchen magician,

the crock pot! She ladled up some of the steaming juices and instinctively blew

across it. She drew in a quick taste and then thought for a moment, he'll love it.

Chicken stew. Just then Alex Trabeck's stalwart voice came back into the living room;

     'And now let's check with our contestant's ...'

     Phantasia bolted back into the living room and flopped back on the couch.

     'Braka-brak-bak', baka--bak--bak--bak'

     "Who in heaven could that be at this late hour of the day," she wondered aloud.

"Ptolemy would never knock, besides, it was a bit early for him to be home from

the lab. 

     "Who's There?" she called out.

     'BRAKA-BAK-BAK-BAK-BAK', came back. Now more forcefully.

     "Oh well fiddle," she called out as she rolled away from her sprawling position on the

sofa. Mrs. Molonari worked her way around the shin high coffee table deftly manipulating

the TV remote control box as she made for the door. She cracked the front door open:

     'And the final jeopardy answer is... The Central Intelligence Agency.'

     "Yes--can I help you?" she asked into the gray twilight that had engulfed the front porch.

     The two, dark towering silhouettes stood there motionless and unperturbed as this

abrupt, bothersome question brushed past them. The first figure stared down at a small

photograph he had cupped in his hand.

     "There's been an accident mam at professor Molonari's-- your husband's work place."

     "TOM? What happened? Is he okay?" she asked apprehensively as she swept open

the door.

     "You'll just have to come along with us now Mrs. Molonari!" he announced coldly.

     She froze there in place for just a moment as she tried to find his eyes. His heavy

brow protruded out from his skull like a dark concrete shelf. It was nearly impossible

for her to make out the features of his face. Her anxiety and angst were suddenly

replaced by apprehension and doubt. Mrs. Molonari inched forward ever so slightly

and made a salute-like hand gesture to try and shield her eyes from the misty gloom.

     "May I see some sort of identification if you don't mind sir?" she asked with a

thin forcefulness.

     "There's no time for that mam," he said as he grabbed for her arm.  "You'll just

have to come along with us now," he answered bluntly.  "But, how can I be certain that--"

 And before she knew it both of the men had her by either arm and were hurriedly

escorting her down the front steps and out to a white service van parked at the curb.

They roughly issued her inside the back of their vehicle and disappeared down the

street and into the impending, stormy night.

*     *     *

     Professor Molonari had been one of the last people to leave the building that evening

and as he slowly drove home in a spitting rain storm he began to reflect back on the day's

events. He wondered if relinquishing his floppy disks and other research paraphernalia

had been the prudent thing to do. He had no copies or back up data on his 'Feather

Phenomena' experiments. The General had assured him that he would send all the

materials back as soon as his 'people' gave it a close scrutiny. He also made it a point to

repeatedly emphasize the issue of homeland security, so much so that Molonari had started

to feel almost guilty if he did not comply. As he squinted out the windshield at the liquid-like,

red tail lights ahead of him. He blew out a thin sigh. Oh well, he thought, it was out of his

hands now and he had no real reason to distrust his own government. He wondered what

Phantasia had made for dinner. He chuckled to himself as he thought of fried chicken.

*     *     *

     "Yes sir, I have the material and all his technical research data on floppy disks. I'm

certain you'll agree, once you've seen it for yourself, the potential it has in our military's

arsenal," General Yardley explained over his little cell phone as he waited for the

twin rotor helicopter to crank up its huge blades for takeoff. He was standing at the

base of the little set of stairs that lead inside to the whining, dark army chopper. "No sir,

there were no real complications with him at all," Yardley chuckled. "I just gave him

the old homeland security song and dance and he was more than happy to give me

the whole shebang right then and there!"

     There was a brief moment of silence as Yardley listened intently to some additional

directives. "Yes sir, that's correct. We have her sequestered and are, as we speak,

making the necessary arrangements to nullify her one way or the other. Yes sir.

I understand sir. I've already made the preparations for the FBI firebug team to work

their pyrotechnical finishing magic just in case our good Professor Chicken Feathers

forgot to turn over something to us." Yardley flipped the phone closed and charged up

the steps into the waiting, whipping chopper.

*     *     *

     Professor Molonari stood at the front door for a second before he went inside the

house. He was decidedly concerned to see the big oaken door ajar. Phantasia almost

never left it open save to await the early evening arrival of the free spirited, but rather

timid humane society cat Mr. Peepers. He could see the animal through the crack of

the door snoozing on his recliner chair. Pushing the door open wide and stepping inside,

Molonari could tell that something was not right--not right at all!

     "Phan!" he called out as he stared over at the big screen television. "PHANNY?"

He squared off in front of the TV. and focused on a blatant, flashing news ticker that

was coming across the screen:

BREAKING NEWS ALERT... BREAKING NEWS ALERT...BREAKING

     'Police and fire crews have been dispatched to a three alarm fire at the

Pollito Research Center in rural Festus county...Officials have told Channel 7

news that the blaze has been confined to one specific area of the complex...

a night watchman has told a Channel 7 news team that the area involved is a

highly restricted and classified wing of the multi-faceted complex referred to

as 'Molonari Acres'...An arson investigation unit is being called in from St. Louis

to investigate the blaze...Channel 7 has been unable to contact a spokesperson for PRC...

     The dazed and shaken professor felt his knees go weak. He fell back into his easy

chair almost crushing the darting Mr. Peepers. The little professor sagged there in the

comfort of the recliner and pushed his head down between his trembling hands. It can't

be happening he thought despairingly--it just can't be...

     A white van had pulled up to the curb just outside. Its’ windshield wipers slapping

back and forth, back and forth as two dark, menacing figures slowly stepped out.

                                              

                                           _____ The End _____