Dennis Raveley - chapter 8

Eventually, Dennis gets back up and goes back to the library, he stays there, thinking, until the Driver comes to the main entrance, knocks, and enters, holding the talkie Addy had used to talk to him on a platter.
'I guess you don't talk at all, do you?' Dennis says, without intent.
The Driver remains impassive. He is still wearing the very same trench coat, and his eyes never meet with Dennis. He gives the talkie to Dennis.
'Dennis! My friend. It is dinner time and we are dining on steak, yes, raw steak my friend, so prepare your stomach, and follow my instructions.' The voice this time is undoubtedly Raymond's.
'Alright then,' Dennis can not think of anything else to say, 'How is the state of your foot?'
'Ah, rather ugly. You see, two sacks of flour is not quite the same when it is iron, a large portion of it has gone rather purplish, which, as you probably do know, signifies considerable hemorrhage under the skin.'
'I see.'
'You have a good visual sense of intelligence then, now, enough chitchat, I want you to come to the grand dining room at once, so I may have a support flank for this evening's continued sparring.'
'Okay.' Dennis says, rubbing his head where the hardcover War and Peace had hit him.
Dennis enters the grand dining room, which is the size of a small backyard, and finds Raymond already seated on the far end, Addy with her wheelchair parked on the left side, and directly opposite her is Karla. Raymond's one foot is stationed onto a second chair, under a large icepack.
Dennis hesitates at the door before entering. Addy greets him with a raised hand and a slight smile, Karla stares at him from the corner of her eyes, and Raymond is not looking up at tall; he appears to be reading.
Dennis sits down on the other chair next to Raymond, and discovers that he is reading sheet music, very complex sheet music. Raymond catches him staring.
'Do you play?' Raymond asks, in the first serious tone Dennis has heard at all since he met him.
'The guitar, what do you play?'
'Depends, how much do you want to know?'
'I don't know, give me everything.'
'Alphabetically, the accordion, the bass, the cello, the fiddle, the harp, the horn, the saxophone, the snare, the trumpet, the tuba, the viola, the violin, and the xylophone. But violin's my specialty, I'm a concert master.'
'And that's also the only thing he can brag about.' Karla says from down the long table.
'So you're a prodigy.'
'Of course I am, and Karl, that's not the only thing I can brag about, when it comes to sharpshooting, I can beat you any day -" Raymond is interrupted, his shifted gaze directs everyone to a new arrival standing in the doorway, a slim, lean, brown-haired, weary-eyed teenager in a dark plaid shirt and very loose, very gray jeans that might be mistaken for sweatpants. Unlike a popular fashion trend these days, his shirt is tucked into his pants, which are quite high themselves. Though his appearance is vastly different from both Raymond and Addy, the atmosphere he carries clearly defines him as a member of the Wyatt family.
'Kenny! What brings you to dinner?' Raymond asks with bemusement. Addy and Karla, on the other hand, seems to recognize the appearance of Kendrick Wyatt as the harbinger of an event much more urgent.
'Certainly not the steak.' Kenny replies, and rubs his eyes under thick, heavy-framed compact lenses.
'Oh? Of course, the last time you had steak the tablecloths had to be detoxified by professionals, certainly not that. So what can it be?' Raymond toys with the question, intent on not divulging into the subject matter Kenny came to bring, 'Is it the loneliness of spending every hour in the garage? Is it the wine that made you tap dance on the dinner table last time you came by? Is it, oh, good heavens! Is it Karla?'
'No, no, and no to your uneducated hypothesis respectively, Ray, I've come bearing news.' Kenny sighs as he says this, though not as deeply as he would have had Karla not be present at this time.
'Go ahead, what is it?' Karla cuts off Raymond's next remark, and asks.
'Jerry sent a message, I've just received it on the W.I.C., he can't come back on the schedule, things have been compromised.'
'How so?' Karla answers.
'Chelsea did meet up with Herman, but there was an intervention by a third party, so Chelsea fled to the isle. Jerry said they were pursued and now they're searching off the mainland, they're trapped on the isle.'
'Where are they?' Raymond suddenly speaks, he is now very serious, his expression speaks only concern.
'At the Spacescrapper.' Kenny replies, he walks over and slides a map across the table to Raymond.
'And they can't get off the island by private transport?'
'Unlikely, the yacht house was bombed, three agents missing, one dead, found in the canal, execution-style.'
'I'll alert the W., tell the seaplane to head for the isle in twelve hours.'
'You're in charge, Ray.' Kenny nods, 'Is everyone coming?'
'You bet.'
'Wait a minute,' Kenny turns to Dennis, picks his hands up, and shakes them, 'I'm Kenny of the Wyatt family, you're Dennis Raveley, good to meet you, your father is a great man.'
'Thanks...and good to meet you too.' Dennis says.
'We're about the same age, I see, good, this calls for an elaboration, though not now, not today, very well, carry on.' These last words are for Raymond.
'Alright, it's set. Everybody, pack your bags, take up arms, we're going overseas!' Raymond charges out of the room supported by a cane, his head reappears a few moments later, 'Take the steak onto the plane, my hunger is yet quenched.'