(DIRECTLY CONTINUED FROM THE END OF A More "General" Storyline...)

Aubrey pulled back the tent flap, shouting, "HURRY! You HAVE to see THIS!"

*********

Maximus was NOT pleased by the Captain's untoward interruption. The vast number of pages that had come between his losing his gourd because of the plasma ball and his reunion with Joimus had piled and piled into a fairly large stack and he had hoped ... truly he had ... for more than a single paragraph of reunion time. But, this was an epi, and so he was not overly surprised. Grumpily he stood, straightening his cape, and held out a hand to help Joimus to her feet. This lady, were the full truth to be told, was considering captainicide most seriously.

"LOOK!" Aubrey said loudly, "There's ICE on the river!"

Still within the tent, sheathing his gladius, the General replied, "Jack, there ARE no rivers in the midst of the Saltflats of Doom." Then shouldering his way past the tent flaps, he stopped in his tracks and gasped. Mere yards in front of him lay a wide river, large dirty chunks of ice flowing rapidly to his right. A cold wind snapped his cape, which he quickly pulled the pale yellow gossamer-clad Joimus beneath, closely to his side. Watching the ice floes, he narrowed his seagreen eyes, pondering the fact that it was not more than 10 minutes past that he had walked across the hot Arabian desert and into this very tent.

"Sid." he pronounced softly, not taking his eyes from the water.

Terry ran up beside them then, his brow knit in concern. "Braddock's gone!" he announced tersely.

"Gone?" the General and the Captain both repeated, their voices sounding very similar somehow.

"It's bad, " Terry continued. "He's the newest character and we need him to...to... carry on the line."

"It's worse than that," added Biebe, joining them, crushing and recrushing his bearskin hat between his fingers. "Himself is missing, too."

Maximus turned to look back at the camp. This was serious, indeed. He noticed Bud, kneeling and studying something in the dirt. "Bud!" he called, "What have you found?"

The cop stood and walked slowly towards them."Two sets of identical footprints," he said. "Russell and Jim were walking side by side and then the footprints just...stop."

It was too much for Joimus. She knew Bunny must have had some hand in this. It was the only explanation. "Excuse me a moment, "she said, reluctantly stepping out from beneath the warm rust-colored wool, and walking quickly toward where she saw the English rabbit. Bunny's ears and cottontail looked a bit droopy to her, a thing that only happened when Sid had been being... well....Sid.

"Bunny," she said gently, kneeling beside the sad form. "What has the Chipman done now?"

Bunny looked at her friend, great tears welling in her eyes. "He...he....took...my....my carving stone."

Joimus gazed at their surroundings, so obviously no longer the Arabian desert. "He did....this?" she asked.

"Yes," Bunny whispered. "I was tired and took a little bunnynap and when I awoke, my carving stone was gone and we were.... here.... wherever 'here' is."

Joimus sighed. "Did you know both Jim and Himself are gone?"

Bunny's eyes widened. "Oh, MY! Then THAT'S what he meant!"

"He meant?" Joimus repeated, licking her suddenly dry lips.

"He...he...was talking to himself earlier. I heard him say, 'Let's see them make the movie without these two.'"

Joimus' synapses began firing rapidly as she stood, looking up and down the banks of the wide river. There MUST be a clue... somewhere...as to their location.

Ah, good! Jack had the same idea and was already scanning the river with his telescope. He paused, his blurry circle centered on a distant, high-arched bridge. "It says, 'Pay Toll 50 cents,'" he read off the bridge's red signboard. "What does that mean?" he asked, puzzled.

"May I?" Joimus asked, extending her hand for the telescope. She studied the far end of the long bridge. There was another sign. "Stop here for Canadian border inspection." Slowly she lowered the scope, looking again at the icy river. "Niagara," was all she said.

Maximus, unfamiliar as most ancient Romans tended to be with North American geography, looked at her questioningly. "We're in New York," she explained and then, indicating the far side of the river with a slight nod, added, "and that's Canada over there."

Bunny, who was from Old York, joined them. "Why did Sid come here?" she wondered.

Joimus closed her eyes, shaking her head back and forth. "Toronto," she whispered, then opening them, looked at those around her. "We must get to Toronto!"

"Why?" Bud asked reasonably.

"The movie," Joimus said, her voice growing strained. "Sid is plotting to sabotage the filming of Cinderella Man!"

"But isn't Cinderella a...girl?" Bud queried.

"Oh, Bud!" Joimus said affectionately, "Of course Cinderella is a girl. But this is a movie about boxing!"

"Cinderella boxes?" he said, frowning at the thought of women getting battered.

Joimus laughed. "No, Bud, JIM is the Cinderella man."

Bud narrowed his seagreen eyes. This was all sounding a little bit...strange...to him. "Are there glass slippers?" he rumbled.

"Maybe a glass jaw or two," Joimus chuckled, "but no glass slippers."

Jewelie stood to one side, listening. For some pages she had been developing a growing fondness for Jim Braddock and now her worst epifears were being realized. He had been Sidnapped and a wide and icy river lay between her and him. She was taken with a sudden horror at the thought the epiwriter might find some inspiration in Uncle Tom's Cabin and she would be forced to cross the river, leaping from ice floe to ice floe. She had already been backstoried with such a crossing of the Bering Straits, but then she at least had her faithful ewes with her. Her only hope lay in the possibility of the epiwriter's fear of redundancy. When she saw Joimus studying the bridge intently, she heaved a small sigh of relief.

"Who has money?" Joimus suddenly asked.

"Money??" replied everyone."Does anyone in epis ever have MONEY?"

It was, alas, true. Money had yet to play a part in any epi. Pulling her gossamer backpack off, she set it on the ground and knelt beside it, rummaging carefully through its depths. When they had left Tierra del Fuego some months ago in such a hurry she had tossed her keyboard and a few small items quickly inside. Would there be? Could there be? Ah! Her probing fingers contacted the cold, silvery surfaces of two quarters. She looked up, rereading the red sign. It was 50 cents per vehicle. There were two quarters for all the forty-something cast members. Hmmmmmm? "We need a vehicle," she announced. "A LARGE vehicle!"

"How about an LA city bus?" Alex volunteered brightly.

After BertiWise pried the cop's fingers from Alex's throat, she said, "Let me look around. I'll find something." She strolled back away from the river a bit near an abandoned junkyard. There was a badly-dented, rusty Volkswagon and had it still possessed its tires, she would have been tempted to play the old game of "how many characters can you stuff in a Volks?" A mental image of this caused rather a grin to curve her lips, in fact.

Passing by a bent tractor and a doorless '57 Chevy, she paused to consider the merits of a decrepit cattle truck. Tires...with actual air in them...sort of. Sure the windshield was gone and the hood was hanging by a single bolt, but there wasn't ALL that much manure in the truckbed, now was there? And a good half or so of the wooden slats of the sides had not yet rotted through.

"Hando!" she called, knowing where to go for help.

The young Melbourner walked over, eyeing the truck disdainfully. "What a piece of...crap," he growled.

Berti smiled pleasantly. "Can you hotwire it?"

"It's gotta have petrol, you know," he remarked, not bothering to answer such a stupid question. He scouted about, finding a few partially full cans. "Since this is an epi," he added, "these will do fine." Opening the door, he scooped the remains of a disintegrated bird's nest off the seat, and within 5 seconds had the engine purring like a garbage truck. Attracted by the sound, the rest of the cast came over.

"This?" Joimus asked. "THIS is the best you can do?"

"Do you see any used limo dealers roundabout?" Berti replied, one eyebrow cocked.

Joimus looked at Hando's tattooed arm hanging out the driver's window. Her eyes then traveled to the inspector's booth on the far end of the bridge. "I think Andy should drive the truck," she said. "He looks less...suspicious." Eyes roaming the cast, she added, "Wanda, why don't you sit between Andy and Lachlan on the front seat? The three of you look...fairly...normal."

Wanda glared at the Pittsburgher just a little, but was so glad not to have to ride in the back with the manure, she climbed gratefully into the cab.

"Just don't let them see your vial of illegal toad juice," Berti smirked.

"Wanda's toad juice is probably the least of our problems," Joimus said seriously, eyeing Terry's equipment.

Annsmac sidled up beside the K&R agent. "Don't worry. I'll think of...of... something," she promised. Joimus handed the two quarters to Andy and then joined the others who were clambering gingerly into the back of the truck.

He guided it slowly over the deeply rutted field and up onto I-190 North. "Here we go!" he called back happily, not having had so much fun since his fast getaway from the drive-in movie. At the tollbooth, he accidentally dropped one of the quarters on the road. As the collector bent down in great irritation to retrieve it, Wanda said cheerily, "It's because he's blind."

Andy drove on over the huge bridge, laughing hysterically...until he had to stop at the...well...stop sign by the Canadian border inspector. The inspector was a woman who looked to be about 33...of course. Her nametag read "Anna Shadow."

"G'day, Miss Shadow," Andy said, grinning at her fetchingly. Though she took her job very seriously, she could not help but smile back at him.

"Good," Joimus sighed, looking through a broken slat. "Very good."

The young man with the thick brownish hair had such dancing seagreen eyes, Anna could hardly think straight. "Where...where...are you from?" she stammered, trying to recall the questions she was supposed to ask.

"He's from Australia," Wanda spoke up, her voice dripping the soft magnolia blossoms of Mississippi.

"Oh, Wanda," Joimus willed silently, "let Andy do the talking!"

But the feminine voice had shaken the inspector out of her Andytrance. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask the lot of you to get out of the truck," she said, having no idea at the time just how many folks were actually packed into its rear. When at last the entire motley crew stood beside the truck, she gasped in amazement.

"We're migrant grape pickers, following the crop," Amanda piped up helpfully.

Anna narrowed her eyes. The vineyards had not yet even begun to leaf out. Her hand began to reach for the emergency phone when Andy lay his softly atop hers. "Don't," he said, his eyes all earnest and pleading. Clearing her throat, she left the phone alone and turned to study the strange groupling standing before her, trying to ascertain the level of threat they might pose to the national security of Canada.

"Jack," Juditha whispered, poking the Captain with her elbow. "Give me your cutlass!"

"My dear lady," Aubrey replied in full voice, "I think I may well have need of it before long."

"Cutlass?" said Anna Shadow, focusing her gaze on the uniformed sailor. "Do you have a weapon in your possession, Sir?"

"Indeed," Jack responded, "I most certainly DO!"

Juditha sighed.

Anna frowned. "And I suppose you use it for harvesting...grapes?" she asked, suspicion sharpening her tone.

"He DOES!" Amanda chirped. "Just like Hando uses his switchblade."

"Switchblade?" Anna repeated, looking now at the skinhead. At the sound of a sudden scraping noise in the frosty air, all eyes turned toward Maximus as he unsheathed his short sword in preparation to defend his companions.

The border inspector studied the General as he stood there beside the smelly truck. He wore a complete outfit of some sort of ancient armor...and wore it well, she added silently. His glorious cape blew gloriously in the stiff breeze, framing his entire form in a wash of rust-colored wool. A gladius glittered in his slightly extended right hand. He in no way resembled a migrant grape-picker.

"You have papers?" she asked.

"Whatever documents I had were left back in my tent in Germania," he answered, keeping his sword at the ready.

"You are a German national?" she queried.

"No," Ute spoke up, "I am."

Before Anna could question further, she noticed the mermaid. "And I suppose you are from Greece?"

Mary broke in, "She wasn't always a mermaid...she used to be a whale.. er...from Wales, but now she's only formerly Welsh, whilst I am the Greek even when forced to be an elderly Australian."

Anna began to back away. Alas, she tripped over the crouching Nash, who was engaged in stuffing pigeons into empty popcorn boxes for further mathematical study.

Andy sprinted forward, catching her in his arms. "It's not as bad as it looks, Miss Shadow," he said, his smile curling the edges of her heart valves.

"It...it's...not?" she stammered, her gaze settling on the magnificence of Terry's equipment. "Why would he be bringing... that...across the border?"

Annsmac's brain whirled. "It's...it's...for...for...a...a...new support for the CN Tower!" she said, delighted she had come up with something fitting in size and...um...shape... sort of.

The border inspector studied the...er...object in question, a bit too long in annsmac's estimation (the study, not the object, of course). "It will have to have an inspection stamp, you know," she said, reaching into the booth for a large box.

Terry paled and annsmac supported his elbow. "Grit your teeth," she whispered. "At least it won't...embed...like the pushpin."

"Should I send Stephen for sand?" a disembodied voice near Nash asked.

"Who was THAT?" Anna almost shouted, looking around fearfully.

Nash smiled, brushing his forehead with his knuckles as he tucked 3 full popcorn boxes under his left armpit. "It's just Charles," he explained, then turned and glared at Aubrey. "I need him more than HE does!"

Jack returned the glare. "I have no need of Charles," he growled. "He doesn't even know how to play the cello yet."

"He will," Nash rejoined, his cheeks puffing out a bit and his lips tightening. "And it will be all YOUR fault!"

"Indeed," the Captain replied, a smile beginning to play behind his eyes, "and a much better pastime it is than throwing desks out windows."

"You KNOW about that?" Nash hissed.

"My good man," Aubrey said, "most of the world knows about that."

Nash clutched the rest of the popcorn boxes to his chest like a shield, his eyes darting from side to side.

Jeffrey, who understood a certain level of the fear of dangerous outside forces, put his arm about the mathematician's shoulders. "That's enough, Jack," he rumbled, leading Nash off to one side.

"Hey," Anna called after them, "he can't take those pigeons across the border like that!"

"Why?" Andy asked reasonably. "Is it required that they fly?"

Anna's mind raced through the pages of immigration laws regarding fowl. She was feeling dizzy. Must fowl fly? Did non-Germanians wearing ancient armor have to relinquish their short swords? Were grapes ever harvested with switchblades? Did the CN Tower really need a new support? What WAS that smell?? Mermaids came under which classification? Not to mention invisible individuals. And how come the young Australian's eyes made her knees feel so weak?

Andy tightened his arms about her for support. "Do you like this job?" he whispered, his warm breath heating up more than her earlobes.

She turned toward him, looking at him puzzledly. "What?"

"Do you like your job?" he repeated, the most marvelous twinkle she'd ever seen sparkling in his eyes.

She scanned the people gathered before her. "I...I...used to," she replied.

"Come with us," he urged. "I've...I've been...alone."

"You have?" she responded, unable to comprehend that this could be so. "But...but...where are you going?" she asked.

"We are heading toward Toronto," he explained. "Two of our friends have been taken from us and we are trying to get them back so that Sid can't keep Cinderella Man from being filmed."

"But I thought Cinderella was a girl," she said.

Just then Bud spoke up, "She IS a girl. But the movie's about boxing and has no glass slippers." He half glared/half grinned at Joimus.

"Oh!" Anna exclaimed. "MOVIE! TORONTO! Now THAT makes sense! But...still...how can I in good conscience let you cross the border?"

Biebe, Bud, Cort, and Zack all flashed American law enforcement badges at her.

"Oh, that will do FINE!" Anna grinned. "Where do I sit?"