You can read part I here.

Cantor En Route

“En route!” his voice came back. That was great. Just as we were breaking back into the city light, we both could hear a car moving our way at great speed — my, but wouldn’t that attract a bunch of attention? The Cantor’s premonitory dream about things going wrong appeared to be all about him. We saw him make the same right turn as before. He closed with us and then passed us on by. I was quite certain that he was just going to turn around and pick us up gracefully. That he did.

Cantor stopped and Kay-Kay darted forward to the passenger door — she was always trying to bogart the front seat — I hated that. I grabbed her by the back collar and tugged her up and out of the door well, pointing her to the back seat. I was just an ass like that. She obediently and quietly (yay!) helped herself to a healthy dose of the back seat and let it fly.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ Almighty Cantor — where in the name of fuck were you… fuckin’-fuckin’- fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck…etc.,” so charming was she.

“SHOOSH, Kay-Kay… mensch!” I had to break the chain of expletives so we could get to the civil truth.

“Ok, Cantor… so?”

“Stopped for the scheduled comms shot with base… INMARSAT is dead; not working at all.”