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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
THE OTHER
Part 1
The Center:
8:30 AM: Angelo sat watching and listening from an air duct in Mr. Lyle’s private office. Mr. Lyle was making what he assumed to be a highly private and secured call. Before him on his personal lap top PC, he was receiving and sending encrypted information. When he was done, he took three pages from the printer, put them in a special file, locked it into his bottom drawer, and left.
Angelo clicked off the two recording devices he had and grinned. A short time later, he was seated on the floor of his favorite hideaway, reading the file and giggling.
Three hours later, Mr. Lyle came back, grabbed the file and left. Angelo just grinned.
***
Midland, Michigan:
About that time, in a motel room, three prints were popping out of a printer. The PC next to it had a great deal of information, of interest to the owner, downloading onto it. He popped the last piece of chicken nuggets from the last of four cherry red cardboard trays next to him, and typed ‘Received and appreciated!’, in the reply window. Within an hour, he was on the road and headed for Canada.
***
Ironwood, Wisconsin:
9:00 PM: He picked up his cell phone and pressed the button that would re-route his call. When the person answered on the other end, he had a question ready.
“Why is the Center getting interested in aliens again?”
The slow voice on the other end replied, “Jarod. You mean immigrants? They haven’t that I know of.”
“I know they have re-opened the Pretender program and now they are coupling it with some of the studies you have been doing with special talents. Shall we say they are interested in ‘very’ special talents?”
“I will certainly look into it. Jarod, can you tell me any more?” Sydney knew with a sinking feeling that just such a project could have been started without his knowing of it. Lyle or Raines? Lyle had been looking a little smug lately. And Raines had been snooping into impossible corners. Lyle it was.
In another room, in the Center, a well built flashing eyed brunette was pacing. “Broots….”
The man at the computer console looked nervously up over his shoulder. She gave him a withering look, one eyebrow raised.
Broots hunched his shoulders a little and went back to the task at hand. He had the dual task of trying to unscramble the voice signal on one hand, and attempting to trace one of Jarod’s convoluted calls. Ms. Parker, however, was fast losing patience. ‘God she’s beautiful when she’s angry.’ He thought. ‘Of course I don’t usually see her when she isn’t….’ “Got it!”
She was bent over his shoulder in an instant. “Where is he?”
“No, uh, I meant the unscrambler is doing its thing.”
“Its... thing… Broots?” He started to turn around again and she hit him on his shoulder.
“Uh… yeah,...just now, about. Yeah here it goes.”
Jarod was speaking again. “Dig around a little. I’m sure if you look in the dirt pile, you will find all the dirt you need.” He looked down and saw the tracer alarm blinking. He smiled, knowing where the trace would lead them. “Sydney, do you like the Three Stooges?”
“Yes, a delightful trio.” Sydney rolled his eyes. He was used to such unusual calls by now. He could see from his tell-tales, that someone was tracing this call. He also knew that wherever it led it would not lead to Jarod.
“What do you find in every room at least twice?” Jarod asked. Then he hung up with a smile.
Miss Parker turned her head from the screen into Broots face. “You are ...not going to tell me you failed.”
The velvet low voice didn’t fool Broots for a moment. The lower it got, the worse for whoever was on the receiving end. Broots cleared his throat. “Well… actually…It didn’t quite finish.” He could tell by her look that this was not what she wanted to hear. “The trace finished in the area of south west Washington… Before it... lost him.”
“You... lost...him?” Her voice was down to a low purr.
Now he could be a hero and tell her what he had figured out. “Actually,” He stopped and cleared his throat again. “I think I know where it is.”
There was no answer, just another flash from her eyes.
Now is where he could dazzle her with his cleverness. “Yes, uh, well, it could only be Walla Walla. You see...”
“Walla… what?” She said with a snap.
“Walla Walla. It’s a town in Washington. You see…”
“What makes you so sure…” She took out a cigarette and stood there with it. Broots just looked at her for a moment with his mouth open, before a sharp tap of her foot got him scrambling for his lighter. “… he called from there.” She finished, after a big puff.
“Well, uh actually he gave us a pretty good hint. It’s the Stooges and the room thing. You know wall and wall, Walla Walla.” Now she would realize how smart he really was.
She started toward the door, and stopped looking back over her shoulder. “I guess it takes a moron to find a moron. We leave… now.” When he opened his mouth she turned back to the door. “And if you ask me where, you can walk. All the way there. And back.”
***
Moses Lake, Washington:
12:30 AM: Broots was hanging around the corner from where Ms. Parker was waiting. She had sent him to find out where the helicopter pad was located and how soon they could take off. He didn’t want to have to report that the only way they were going to get to Walla Walla, was by car. She also wasn’t going to like hearing that she couldn’t get a car till tomorrow morning. ‘Maybe this would be a good time for that trip to Alaska I’ve always wanted to take.’ He thought wistfully.
With hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, he peeked around the corner. Not two feet from him, arms crossed and one of those withering looks on her face, stood Ms. Parker. “Uh… I was just uh...coming to give you the news.”
“Wellll?”
***
Winnipeg Airport:
9:05 AM: Mr. Lyle and four hand picked men were at the car rental lot taking possession of two ATV’s, when his personal phone rang.
After listening for about ten seconds, his face got red and he exploded. “She’s doing what? Where?” The person on the other end stammered a reply and hung up, thankful for the distance that separated him from Mr. Lyle.
Mr. Lyle marched away back towards the terminal, signaling with a jerk of his head for the others to follow. “Get me the first flight to Washington. I want the shortest way to Walla Walla! This can wait. Miss high pants is not getting Jarod before I do!”
***
Somewhere south of Moss Lake, on route 17:
Ms. Parker sat fuming in the back seat of a loaner car she had intimidated out of a repair shop owner. When her phone rang, she answered “What!”
After listening for a moment, she hung up, without a word, leaned over and told Broots with soft deadliness to turn around.
Broots tried to look at the road and Ms. Parker at the same time. “But...”
“Turn… around… and... drive!” She leaned back in her seat and lit a cigarette. Lyle was up to something and she was going to find out what. Jarod could wait.
Back at the airport… “Go drag my pilot out of whatever hole he’s crawled into and tell him we’re leaving for Winnipeg. NOW.”
Part 2
***
Gunton, about twelve miles north of Winnipeg:
6:30 PM: Jarod stopped at the only motel in town, a little four unit job with weathered sign and clean rooms. He cleaned up and stretched out on the old noisy bed, but he couldn’t rest. There was a small table and chair in the corner.
Jarod opened first, his computer, then a small envelope containing three small disks.
The first was of a pretender, about Jarod’s age. Jarod had known of him, but this was the first time that he had seen him. The scene was of the young man taking a tissue sample from a deformed alien embryo.
He was explaining the importance of balancing the alien’s bio-chemicals. “The alien/human hybrid this came from, was already adapted to our balance, with a slight dependency on certain trace elements. But what you tried to do here was eliminate the human DNA and keep the alien. It won’t work without finding the correct chemical dependency for the original alien body. That is why all your embryos died with serious physical deficiencies and deformities, like enlarged heads and atrophied bodies.”
“You must be on the right track Martin, the embryos, kept in artificial suspension, are living far past the stage of those carried in host mothers. Four of the last six are still alive after almost six months. Their development looks more balanced also.” A hand and arm came into the scene and warmly patted Martin on the back. “Looks like soon we will have our own live pet aliens to study!”
The voice sounded very pleased, but the look on Martins face showed how troubled he was.
The second disk showed excerpts taken from surveillance cameras on SL-27. These scenes he was sure no one had seen, except for Angelo. Because they were from six years ago when he had slipped his leash and gone exploring. No one had ever known he was gone or where he had been.
He had come out on a level that wasn’t supposed to be there, and was shortly thereafter mistaken for Martin by a young female technician. “Oh hello, you must be Martin. I’m sorry Dr. Cox has left. You were so late, we thought you weren’t coming today.” She led the way into a lab, then stopped at a desk, and turned with her hand lightly resting on a rather thick notebook. “I was just on my way to return this. Do you want to work on it now, or would you rather wait for Dr. Cox?”
Jarod pulled out the chair and sat down. “Oh I think I’ll stick around for a while. Thank you.” He gave her his big Jarod smile and she left.
He knew he should already be gone too, but he was curious what the other, Martin, was working on.
True to protocol, the first page had the goal of the project, followed by the first supposition. This preceded the description of work done and progress achieved, (or not). Each red tabbed page was a new supposition to work from. There were four of them.
He read through each summary and supposition and was hooked. They were trying to grow aliens to cut up, study and ‘train’. They were close. There was enough of a hint at what final key was missing for Jarod to guess it. There was also a strong hint that the other was hanging back in ‘discovering’ it.
Jarod grabbed a paper and slipped it into the word processor. He made up a new supposition. It suggested a new chemical balance for all test subjects, and urged immediate compliance. If the new addition worked the way he thought it should, it would put an immediate end to the project.
The recording ended as he slipped out the door.
When he had gone back down a month later, there was no sign that the lab he visited had ever existed.
The last disk was one he had recorded from the series of files Angelo sent him yesterday, and was the reason he was on this trip.
It was dated about five years ago. It was a ceiling down shot of five doctors working around a boy, strapped to a table. He looked to be about twelve; he was awake and terrified.
One of the doctors spoke into his mike. “Session seven. Subject’s dosage of suppressant has been increased to fifty cc’s every twelve hours. We are now ready for the questioning.” The ‘questioning’ was a polite term for what followed: electric shocks and ‘tissue samples’ taken from various parts of the body. All the while, a voice continued to demand information. It promised an end to all ‘discomforts’ upon compliance.
Through it all, the kid kept denying knowing anything that they asked. Finally he yelled. “Oh Luke, Luke, I’m so sorry!”
Then all five men were slammed back away from the table and fell in heaps on the floor. Upon the table, the now lifeless eyes of the boy stared up into eternity.
Jarod shook himself, and placed the disk with the other two. He was sick at heart. That poor boy.
Before he could close his computer, his incoming mail signaled an urgent message.
“Fooled Lyles, sent him to Flin Flon. Ms. Parker got there first, knows the boy’s not there. Lyle is on his way. Luke doesn’t have much time.”
Within five minutes, Jarod was speeding north to Poplarfield.
***
Roswell, New Mexico
11:00 PM: “I’m Liz Parker and this has been a really long day.” ‘It seems that now every day is a really long day.’ She thought to herself. Liz bit gently on the end of her pen as she gazed at the top of her roof ladder. She was thinking about how wonderful it would be if everything was as it should be, and Max would come peeking over the edge. If only she could hold him one more time.
“It tears my heart out to think that I have to make Max fall out of love with me. How will I live?” She sat drawing a line around those last four words. The tears dropping unheeded into her lap. “Why is it that our love has to endanger their lives and my whole world? But that’s the problem isn’t it? Max would never lie to me. Not the now Max and not the future Max. If he says it’s so, then it is.” Now she dropped her pen and put both hands to her face. ‘But why, oh why does it have to be us?’ She sobbed.
The future Max sat watching from a nearby roof top, wrapped in a blanket he had borrowed from Liz. He had to give her some space tonight to adjust to the whole idea, but watching her, watching what it was doing to her was tearing him up. ‘Oh Liz, if there was only some other way.’ He thought. ‘ I would rather give up breathing than do this to you. To us.’
***
Poplarfield, Manitoba, Canada:
10:30 PM, same night: Jarod sat in his car on a dirt road. It was the street behind the house he must visit. But though he had been thinking furiously all the way up here, he couldn’t decide how he was going to convince this kid to come with him. He couldn’t just walk up to the door and say “Oh hi, I’m Jarod. Your life is in danger. Come with me now.”
***
The young man in question was pacing the floor at that moment. All day he had had an uneasy feeling. Disaster was approaching. But from where or from whom, he did not know. These feelings had saved his bacon many times and he wasn’t about to discount this one.
He didn’t dare go to bed. He felt he should run, but in which direction? A backpack was loaded and standing by the door. The last time he had felt such an overpowering dread was when his brother had disappeared.
He had felt the very moment of his brother’s death. He had even heard him call out his name. The memory sent shudders of re-opened grief through him. Alone, in all the world. Was there one person who could understand him? Who would accept him as he really was?
There was one person who could help him, but he didn’t have any idea who he was. Just a face in a dream. A rather likable face, with a kind of boyish smile; but where was he and how could he help?
Finally, the feeling of foreboding became overpowering. He grabbed his backpack and jacket and flew out the back door. As he fled down the back alley, two cars came screeching to a halt at the front of his house. He cut across a back yard and between two houses, to the next street. A strange car there immediately put him on his guard. It was a low fast looking sports car. Definitely not the type people around here would consider owning. He started to walk slowly by, trying to look tired and bored. Just someone on his way home. ‘Think normal’ he thought. But the man in the car jumped out and called his name.
Luke turned, ready to blast him and run, but even in the partial light of the moon, he recognized the man from his dreams.
The man called out again. “Please! I need to talk to you.”
Luke turned, threw his pack in the back seat, jumped in and asked. “Can you talk and drive at the same time?”
Five minutes later they were speeding down highway seventeen toward Winnipeg. Three hours later, they were in a little motel south of the Canadian border, on route 29.
Part 1
The Center:
8:30 AM: Angelo sat watching and listening from an air duct in Mr. Lyle’s private office. Mr. Lyle was making what he assumed to be a highly private and secured call. Before him on his personal lap top PC, he was receiving and sending encrypted information. When he was done, he took three pages from the printer, put them in a special file, locked it into his bottom drawer, and left.
Angelo clicked off the two recording devices he had and grinned. A short time later, he was seated on the floor of his favorite hideaway, reading the file and giggling.
Three hours later, Mr. Lyle came back, grabbed the file and left. Angelo just grinned.
***
Midland, Michigan:
About that time, in a motel room, three prints were popping out of a printer. The PC next to it had a great deal of information, of interest to the owner, downloading onto it. He popped the last piece of chicken nuggets from the last of four cherry red cardboard trays next to him, and typed ‘Received and appreciated!’, in the reply window. Within an hour, he was on the road and headed for Canada.
***
Ironwood, Wisconsin:
9:00 PM: He picked up his cell phone and pressed the button that would re-route his call. When the person answered on the other end, he had a question ready.
“Why is the Center getting interested in aliens again?”
The slow voice on the other end replied, “Jarod. You mean immigrants? They haven’t that I know of.”
“I know they have re-opened the Pretender program and now they are coupling it with some of the studies you have been doing with special talents. Shall we say they are interested in ‘very’ special talents?”
“I will certainly look into it. Jarod, can you tell me any more?” Sydney knew with a sinking feeling that just such a project could have been started without his knowing of it. Lyle or Raines? Lyle had been looking a little smug lately. And Raines had been snooping into impossible corners. Lyle it was.
In another room, in the Center, a well built flashing eyed brunette was pacing. “Broots….”
The man at the computer console looked nervously up over his shoulder. She gave him a withering look, one eyebrow raised.
Broots hunched his shoulders a little and went back to the task at hand. He had the dual task of trying to unscramble the voice signal on one hand, and attempting to trace one of Jarod’s convoluted calls. Ms. Parker, however, was fast losing patience. ‘God she’s beautiful when she’s angry.’ He thought. ‘Of course I don’t usually see her when she isn’t….’ “Got it!”
She was bent over his shoulder in an instant. “Where is he?”
“No, uh, I meant the unscrambler is doing its thing.”
“Its... thing… Broots?” He started to turn around again and she hit him on his shoulder.
“Uh… yeah,...just now, about. Yeah here it goes.”
Jarod was speaking again. “Dig around a little. I’m sure if you look in the dirt pile, you will find all the dirt you need.” He looked down and saw the tracer alarm blinking. He smiled, knowing where the trace would lead them. “Sydney, do you like the Three Stooges?”
“Yes, a delightful trio.” Sydney rolled his eyes. He was used to such unusual calls by now. He could see from his tell-tales, that someone was tracing this call. He also knew that wherever it led it would not lead to Jarod.
“What do you find in every room at least twice?” Jarod asked. Then he hung up with a smile.
Miss Parker turned her head from the screen into Broots face. “You are ...not going to tell me you failed.”
The velvet low voice didn’t fool Broots for a moment. The lower it got, the worse for whoever was on the receiving end. Broots cleared his throat. “Well… actually…It didn’t quite finish.” He could tell by her look that this was not what she wanted to hear. “The trace finished in the area of south west Washington… Before it... lost him.”
“You... lost...him?” Her voice was down to a low purr.
Now he could be a hero and tell her what he had figured out. “Actually,” He stopped and cleared his throat again. “I think I know where it is.”
There was no answer, just another flash from her eyes.
Now is where he could dazzle her with his cleverness. “Yes, uh, well, it could only be Walla Walla. You see...”
“Walla… what?” She said with a snap.
“Walla Walla. It’s a town in Washington. You see…”
“What makes you so sure…” She took out a cigarette and stood there with it. Broots just looked at her for a moment with his mouth open, before a sharp tap of her foot got him scrambling for his lighter. “… he called from there.” She finished, after a big puff.
“Well, uh actually he gave us a pretty good hint. It’s the Stooges and the room thing. You know wall and wall, Walla Walla.” Now she would realize how smart he really was.
She started toward the door, and stopped looking back over her shoulder. “I guess it takes a moron to find a moron. We leave… now.” When he opened his mouth she turned back to the door. “And if you ask me where, you can walk. All the way there. And back.”
***
Moses Lake, Washington:
12:30 AM: Broots was hanging around the corner from where Ms. Parker was waiting. She had sent him to find out where the helicopter pad was located and how soon they could take off. He didn’t want to have to report that the only way they were going to get to Walla Walla, was by car. She also wasn’t going to like hearing that she couldn’t get a car till tomorrow morning. ‘Maybe this would be a good time for that trip to Alaska I’ve always wanted to take.’ He thought wistfully.
With hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, he peeked around the corner. Not two feet from him, arms crossed and one of those withering looks on her face, stood Ms. Parker. “Uh… I was just uh...coming to give you the news.”
“Wellll?”
***
Winnipeg Airport:
9:05 AM: Mr. Lyle and four hand picked men were at the car rental lot taking possession of two ATV’s, when his personal phone rang.
After listening for about ten seconds, his face got red and he exploded. “She’s doing what? Where?” The person on the other end stammered a reply and hung up, thankful for the distance that separated him from Mr. Lyle.
Mr. Lyle marched away back towards the terminal, signaling with a jerk of his head for the others to follow. “Get me the first flight to Washington. I want the shortest way to Walla Walla! This can wait. Miss high pants is not getting Jarod before I do!”
***
Somewhere south of Moss Lake, on route 17:
Ms. Parker sat fuming in the back seat of a loaner car she had intimidated out of a repair shop owner. When her phone rang, she answered “What!”
After listening for a moment, she hung up, without a word, leaned over and told Broots with soft deadliness to turn around.
Broots tried to look at the road and Ms. Parker at the same time. “But...”
“Turn… around… and... drive!” She leaned back in her seat and lit a cigarette. Lyle was up to something and she was going to find out what. Jarod could wait.
Back at the airport… “Go drag my pilot out of whatever hole he’s crawled into and tell him we’re leaving for Winnipeg. NOW.”
Part 2
***
Gunton, about twelve miles north of Winnipeg:
6:30 PM: Jarod stopped at the only motel in town, a little four unit job with weathered sign and clean rooms. He cleaned up and stretched out on the old noisy bed, but he couldn’t rest. There was a small table and chair in the corner.
Jarod opened first, his computer, then a small envelope containing three small disks.
The first was of a pretender, about Jarod’s age. Jarod had known of him, but this was the first time that he had seen him. The scene was of the young man taking a tissue sample from a deformed alien embryo.
He was explaining the importance of balancing the alien’s bio-chemicals. “The alien/human hybrid this came from, was already adapted to our balance, with a slight dependency on certain trace elements. But what you tried to do here was eliminate the human DNA and keep the alien. It won’t work without finding the correct chemical dependency for the original alien body. That is why all your embryos died with serious physical deficiencies and deformities, like enlarged heads and atrophied bodies.”
“You must be on the right track Martin, the embryos, kept in artificial suspension, are living far past the stage of those carried in host mothers. Four of the last six are still alive after almost six months. Their development looks more balanced also.” A hand and arm came into the scene and warmly patted Martin on the back. “Looks like soon we will have our own live pet aliens to study!”
The voice sounded very pleased, but the look on Martins face showed how troubled he was.
The second disk showed excerpts taken from surveillance cameras on SL-27. These scenes he was sure no one had seen, except for Angelo. Because they were from six years ago when he had slipped his leash and gone exploring. No one had ever known he was gone or where he had been.
He had come out on a level that wasn’t supposed to be there, and was shortly thereafter mistaken for Martin by a young female technician. “Oh hello, you must be Martin. I’m sorry Dr. Cox has left. You were so late, we thought you weren’t coming today.” She led the way into a lab, then stopped at a desk, and turned with her hand lightly resting on a rather thick notebook. “I was just on my way to return this. Do you want to work on it now, or would you rather wait for Dr. Cox?”
Jarod pulled out the chair and sat down. “Oh I think I’ll stick around for a while. Thank you.” He gave her his big Jarod smile and she left.
He knew he should already be gone too, but he was curious what the other, Martin, was working on.
True to protocol, the first page had the goal of the project, followed by the first supposition. This preceded the description of work done and progress achieved, (or not). Each red tabbed page was a new supposition to work from. There were four of them.
He read through each summary and supposition and was hooked. They were trying to grow aliens to cut up, study and ‘train’. They were close. There was enough of a hint at what final key was missing for Jarod to guess it. There was also a strong hint that the other was hanging back in ‘discovering’ it.
Jarod grabbed a paper and slipped it into the word processor. He made up a new supposition. It suggested a new chemical balance for all test subjects, and urged immediate compliance. If the new addition worked the way he thought it should, it would put an immediate end to the project.
The recording ended as he slipped out the door.
When he had gone back down a month later, there was no sign that the lab he visited had ever existed.
The last disk was one he had recorded from the series of files Angelo sent him yesterday, and was the reason he was on this trip.
It was dated about five years ago. It was a ceiling down shot of five doctors working around a boy, strapped to a table. He looked to be about twelve; he was awake and terrified.
One of the doctors spoke into his mike. “Session seven. Subject’s dosage of suppressant has been increased to fifty cc’s every twelve hours. We are now ready for the questioning.” The ‘questioning’ was a polite term for what followed: electric shocks and ‘tissue samples’ taken from various parts of the body. All the while, a voice continued to demand information. It promised an end to all ‘discomforts’ upon compliance.
Through it all, the kid kept denying knowing anything that they asked. Finally he yelled. “Oh Luke, Luke, I’m so sorry!”
Then all five men were slammed back away from the table and fell in heaps on the floor. Upon the table, the now lifeless eyes of the boy stared up into eternity.
Jarod shook himself, and placed the disk with the other two. He was sick at heart. That poor boy.
Before he could close his computer, his incoming mail signaled an urgent message.
“Fooled Lyles, sent him to Flin Flon. Ms. Parker got there first, knows the boy’s not there. Lyle is on his way. Luke doesn’t have much time.”
Within five minutes, Jarod was speeding north to Poplarfield.
***
Roswell, New Mexico
11:00 PM: “I’m Liz Parker and this has been a really long day.” ‘It seems that now every day is a really long day.’ She thought to herself. Liz bit gently on the end of her pen as she gazed at the top of her roof ladder. She was thinking about how wonderful it would be if everything was as it should be, and Max would come peeking over the edge. If only she could hold him one more time.
“It tears my heart out to think that I have to make Max fall out of love with me. How will I live?” She sat drawing a line around those last four words. The tears dropping unheeded into her lap. “Why is it that our love has to endanger their lives and my whole world? But that’s the problem isn’t it? Max would never lie to me. Not the now Max and not the future Max. If he says it’s so, then it is.” Now she dropped her pen and put both hands to her face. ‘But why, oh why does it have to be us?’ She sobbed.
The future Max sat watching from a nearby roof top, wrapped in a blanket he had borrowed from Liz. He had to give her some space tonight to adjust to the whole idea, but watching her, watching what it was doing to her was tearing him up. ‘Oh Liz, if there was only some other way.’ He thought. ‘ I would rather give up breathing than do this to you. To us.’
***
Poplarfield, Manitoba, Canada:
10:30 PM, same night: Jarod sat in his car on a dirt road. It was the street behind the house he must visit. But though he had been thinking furiously all the way up here, he couldn’t decide how he was going to convince this kid to come with him. He couldn’t just walk up to the door and say “Oh hi, I’m Jarod. Your life is in danger. Come with me now.”
***
The young man in question was pacing the floor at that moment. All day he had had an uneasy feeling. Disaster was approaching. But from where or from whom, he did not know. These feelings had saved his bacon many times and he wasn’t about to discount this one.
He didn’t dare go to bed. He felt he should run, but in which direction? A backpack was loaded and standing by the door. The last time he had felt such an overpowering dread was when his brother had disappeared.
He had felt the very moment of his brother’s death. He had even heard him call out his name. The memory sent shudders of re-opened grief through him. Alone, in all the world. Was there one person who could understand him? Who would accept him as he really was?
There was one person who could help him, but he didn’t have any idea who he was. Just a face in a dream. A rather likable face, with a kind of boyish smile; but where was he and how could he help?
Finally, the feeling of foreboding became overpowering. He grabbed his backpack and jacket and flew out the back door. As he fled down the back alley, two cars came screeching to a halt at the front of his house. He cut across a back yard and between two houses, to the next street. A strange car there immediately put him on his guard. It was a low fast looking sports car. Definitely not the type people around here would consider owning. He started to walk slowly by, trying to look tired and bored. Just someone on his way home. ‘Think normal’ he thought. But the man in the car jumped out and called his name.
Luke turned, ready to blast him and run, but even in the partial light of the moon, he recognized the man from his dreams.
The man called out again. “Please! I need to talk to you.”
Luke turned, threw his pack in the back seat, jumped in and asked. “Can you talk and drive at the same time?”
Five minutes later they were speeding down highway seventeen toward Winnipeg. Three hours later, they were in a little motel south of the Canadian border, on route 29.
