Psychic War

Chapter 2: Rommel Island

Thirty-eight days went by and now was the time to leave for the island. Lystria had been excited all that time. Her friends that she worked with were all envious of her. Tarlem had everything in line for the trip. He  pulled into the port, “There’s the coral,” he pointed to the large cruise ship that was currently docked at the port. The coral was a cruise liner that  ferries people across the sea to Rommel Island. On board the ship are several restaurants and a large parking area in the lower deck of the ship for the passenger’s vehicles. Passage to Rommel Island on average takes about two days.


“You’ve done too much,” Lystria was overwhelmed by the fact that she was leaving for her dream destination. For them, the passage went by slowly as they anticipated arriving on the island. Eventually the island began to come into view. Ithuria Volcano was the first thing anyone could make out for the dormant volcano made up most of the island. Rommel Tower was the next item to come into view. Lystria held onto Tarlem and kissed him on the side of his muzzle.





A knock came at the door, Maurice looked up from his book, “Enter.”


An ocelot entered the room along with a jackal and wombat, “Maurice, we have just arrived on the ship,” the ocelot spoke, “Irving sent us to check your cargo. It checks out so I think we can be friends. I’m Remus; the jackal, Atris; the wombats Clay.”


“So Irving sent you guys?” Maurice rubbed the stubble on his chin, “He doesn’t trust me, huh?”


“Hmm Hmm,” Atris chuckled, “Irving, trust somebody, not fuckin’ likely. He trusts no one, except for us. Your cargo, nice shit. Is it from Tricos?”


“Naw,” Maurice shook his head, “Its from Haristan.”


“That shits from Haristan? You’re fuckin’ kidding!” Atris was confused. Tricos was known for great weaponry and Haristan for political instability.


“True,” Maurice shut his book, “Can I offer you all something to drink. Still a bit until we reach Rommel.”


“I could use some wine,” Remus took a seat.


Atris sat next to the ocelot, “Beer!”


The wombat remained silent. Instead he made some gestures with his hands. Maurice looked at him, “Is something wrong with him?


“Ah, that fuckers mute. He said he was fine though,” Atris interpreted.


“So why does Irving keep him?” Maurice asked pouring some wine. Clay took some offense at the comment.


“Clay knows quality. No fake, or junk has ever gotten past him. Irvings never seen something he didn’t like since Clay showed up. Of course he could speak then,” Remus explained Clay’s condition.


Maurice handed them their drinks, “I’ve got a feeling that this is going to be a good couple of days.”





Tarlem pulled up to the Marson Hotel. The couple checked in and began to unpack. Lystria was happier than she had ever been in her entire life, “I’m finally here,” she could hardly believe it.


“I knew you would like it,” Tarlem unpacked a few things.


“Babe, we can unpack tonight. Let’s go see the island,” Lystria shut the suitcase Tarlem was working from, “Lets go!”


The island is quite large but only has one city, Rommel. The rest is forest and jungle that climbs up the side of the dormant volcano. In the city are hotels, restaurants, and shops. The occasional park dots the cityscape. A beach runs along the south side. On the east end of the beach is a detached area of the island connected by bridges called The Midway. On the Midway was just that, a midway, which includes a unique rollercoaster.


The Lynx couple enjoyed their day and their night.





“So, you’re Maurice,” Irving, a human with a stern face and aged, but well built body, approached the taller man.


“Yes,” Maurice shook Irving’s hand, “I hope you found my wares pleasing.”


“I did, I hope my guys didn’t give you a rough time,” Irving brought up the three who met with Maurice on the boat, “Remus has some bad habits and traits.”


“I would of guessed the foul mouthed jackal,” Maurice joked.


“My boys tell me that your stuffs from Haristan. I would’ve never guessed that such quality stock would come form such a hell hole,” Irving had personally been to Haristan. While he was there he was shot in the leg three times and Clay was shot in the throat, making him mute, “So where are you from?”


“I’m from Purmesh,” Maurice told Irving.


“Sir,” Remus came in.


“Yes?” Irving turned from his guest to the ocelot.


“Travis is on the line,” Remus almost regretted telling that to Irving, for Irving hated Travis Mayson.


“You tell that asshole that if he wants to talk to me he’ll leave the protection of his mansion and come out here to talk to me in person, alright?” Irving shouted. Remus put his ears back as his employer shouted, but he nodded and left. Irving turned back to Maurice, “Purmesh, huh? Nice country.”


“Yeah, you know Travis Mayson?” Maurice had a worried look on his face.


“Yeah, why,” Irving turned a suspicious eye to Maurice.


“Well,” Maurice hesitated, “He wants me dead. Says I brought him shit when in truth I brought him quality goods.”


“I hate that asshole. Tried to cheat me on some surplus Mc-97’s from Merinan. He also sent me some knock off twelve millimeters. Always jammed. But don’t worry, I’ll have Atris guard you,” Irving had taken a liking to Maurice. The host pressed a PA button, “Atris get up here!”


A few minutes later the jackal entered the room, “Yeah boss?”


“You know Travis Mayson?” Irving asked the jackal.


“Yeah, he’s that cheap mother fucker. Hate him and his boys,” Atris never liked the guys who worked for Mayson. A few years back Atris got into a fight with one and killed him.


“Well, he’s comin’ here tomorrow and he want this fine gentleman dead,” Irving pointed at Maurice, “Your job is to protect him.”


That task put a smile on Atris’ face, “I got him covered. If any of those fuckers get near Maurice I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em!”