Chapter Eight: Atmospheric Alterations
“How’d I get stuck with you as a sleeping partner?” Raphael growled hurling his pack down on to the large four-poster bed. The springs groaned in protest. Leonardo walked into the room and carefully set his pack down beside a chair. “Face it, you’re no good at paper, rock scissors.”
“Only because you wouldn’t go three out of five.” Raphael snarled jerking an accusing finger at Leo. Leo looked up from untangling the buckle on his pack and sighed. “It’s just for one night. It will probably be over before you know it.” Raphael peered around the room squinting in the candlelight. “Oh yeah?” He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned his attention back to his brother. “Alright then, I get the bed.” Leo raised an eyeridge at Raphael before continuing to unpack a large sleeping bag. “Whatever Raph, that thing’s probably crawling with bed bugs anyway.”
Raphael curled his top lip in disgust “You’re just saying that.”
“Am I?” Leo said flatly as he tugged a flashlight from a side pocket.
“I’ll risk it.” Raphael snuck a look under the sheets, whipping them back into place before Leo noticed. Suddenly something glinting caught his eye, he watched silent as his brother un-strapped a short sword from under his coat. “How’d you get that past security?” Leo placed the sword down and a small table and began to shrug his coat off his aching shoulders. “A master never reveals his secrets.”
“What did you bring it for?”
“Just in case.” A small cloud of dust rose where the end of the sleeping bag slapped down onto the cold stone floor.
“In case what?” Raphael snorted, pausing only to pull at the broken zipper on his worn pack. “A band of marauding Scots attack?”
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Donatello moved the small instrument resting on the table slightly to the left; he stooped down behind it and then rose to adjust its position one more time. “Perfect.” He breathed gingerly removing his hands.
“What’s that f-f-for?” Michaelangelo stuttered clutching a blanket around his shoulders. He shivered as he watched his breath leave his body in small wispy clouds. “This is a laser emitter and down here on the over side of the room.” Donatello strode over to another small black box, balanced on the back of a chair. “Is the receiver.” Michaelangelo looked at the thin red line slicing the room in half. “The idea.” Donatello continued, gesturing with his hands as he went. “Is that if anything solid should enter the room it will break the beam and we’ll know about it. Therefore catching any fake paranormal life forms.”
“Oh.” Michaelangelo’s deadpan expression was wasted on Donatello. Flitting to the other side of the room Donatello pointed out more equipment hidden in various corners, nooks and crannies of the Nursery. “In the unlikely event that anything supernatural should gain access to the room, these babies will record the evidence.” Donatello looked up and Michaelangelo quickly tried to look riveted. “Here you have your basic atmospheric alterations measuring device.”
“You mean a thermometer?” Michaelangelo interrupted.
“Yes, well I suppose you could call it that. Here is a magnetometer, that’s used to measure any changes in the magnetic fields of the test area.”
“Room.” Michaelangelo corrected.
“Then we have an infra red camera, a white noise recorder and a digital camera for instant pictures.” Donatello tapped each piece of equipment reassuringly.
“Fascinating.” Michaelangelo droned as he picked up a small china doll from its crib. He looked at it for a while, taking in every detail, the ivory skin, the golden curls that framed the pale face and those dead blue eyes. “Hey I know!” His voice picked up slightly as he returned the doll to her lacy bed. “Why don’t we tell ghost stories?” Michaelangelo bounced over to his tattered suitcase; suddenly he turned round on Donatello, his face illuminated beneath by a flashlight. “Hear the legend of Bunny Man Bridge?”
“Mikey you watch way too much bad television.” Donatello went back to checking the array of small buzzing boxes dotted about the place.