The Haunted Traveler May 2017 Edition

44
it would be fine, but boredom was a huge motivator to
fix things that didn’t need fixing.
He stopped humming and began to sing softly “all
around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the
weasel.” He stopped briefly when he heard whispering
coming from the entrance to the crawlspace, then
when the whispering stopped he continued “a penny
for a spool of thread, a penny for a needle, that’s the
way the money goes.” Then something tugged on his
foot. He looked toward the end of the crawlspace and
saw Thompson, the communications specialist from
the other shift.
“Hey, why aren’t you in your pod?” Benson asked.
Thompson said nothing, but stood there glaring at
Benson.
“I’m coming out now,” Benson said. “Something
must be going on if you’re out your pod already.” With
the words “pop goes the weasel” just escaping his lips
he was pulled out of the crawlspace by his boots and
still holding the tool.
“Hey, what gives?” He asked landing on his buttocks
outside of the crawlspace. He didn’t have time to react
as Thompson grabbed the tool and drove it into his
brain right between his eyes.
Danielle pulled the sheet back that had been laid
over Benson on the exam table and gasped.
“This is how you found him?” She asked Marcie, the
ship’s flight navigator, and Ruiz who were standing
nearby, both with blood on their gray flight suits.
“Yes,” Marcie said, “that tool was sticking right
where you see it.”