Return To Pogvelia

Night Before Pogvelia

Kat’s phone rings and she stares at it with blurry eyes. What time was it? She looks at the clock, its 12:30am, South Carolina time. They had been traveling for most of the day. They would catch their connecting flight to Italy in the morning.

They were finally traveling to Pogvelia.

Kat had proved that she was a valuable member of the team by gathering archeological evidence and conducting lots of interviews with her Italian cousins.

Now they just needed to get to the damn island.

“Hello?” Kat answers, trying to sound like she wasn't just jolted awake.

“Kat, I think I need you to bring me to the E.R. But, NO QUESTIONS ASKED, okay?” Zak says, and she can hear the panic in his voice.

They started the No Questions Asked a few weeks ago, when she had gotten herself stuck in an ATM vestibule downtown. Kat was too embarrassed to tell anyone that she got herself stuck, so she called Zak –the person who make the least fun of her-- and told him, “I need you to come downtown to the Bank on 4th street, bring your credit card and NO QUESTIONS ASKED, okay?”

And he had done it. He rescued her from that dumb ATM vestibule and made her feel less embarrassed by talking about random stuff all the way home. And he hasn't brought it up since.

Everyone knew  about the No Questions Asked policy. It started with that episode of HIMYM, and then it just took off, as pop culture tends to do. Aaron and Zak had watched that episode together, and afterward they turned to each other and said, “That’s a good policy to have. Let’s add it to the GAC code?”

Aaron had laughed and teased Kat. Like she would ever do anything crazy enough to pull the NQA card.

Who’d have thought Kat had to use it first?

So technically she now owed Zak one.

“Umm sure. Are you okay?” Kat asks.

“NO QUESTIONS ASKED, KATIE-ANN!”

“Right. Okay, sorry. I’ll be right over.”

She stands up and yawn. After quickly dressing in yoga pants and a jacket, she grabs my wallet, phone and room card and walk out to Bradley’s room. The door is wedged open, but I knock anyway.

“Hello? I’m here!” she says, entering quietly.

“Zak?”

“I’m here.” He emerges from the bathroom, wearing a sweatshirt that is badly concealing a bloody towel wrapped around his forearm. His is face pale, and she could see his one good arm shaking as he looks for his keys and wallet. the other arm was tucked tightly against his chest. He sees Kat and gives me a strained smile.

“Thanks so much, Katie.”

“You’re welcome. Ready to go?”  she asks.