COSMOS magazine

Thursday, July 3

Separated from Jill by only a thin curtain, some other human in pain moaned and moaned, a repetitive dismal complaint of suffering, a dreary litany. Too drowsy from painkillers and sedatives to get up, Jill lay on the narrow hospital bed and examined her own life carefully for the first time in years. It was brutally difficult to concentrate; her forehead throbbed, and she tried to suppress the terror that on top of everything else she might now be brain damaged from the shock of the collision.

Between trying to make a living and do a decent job of mothering Alex, she realized, she had raced from one urgent task to the next, seldom finding time just to sit and think.

She'd been so sure the ideas propounded by Nature Forever were right. Now she saw they had come predigested, in the form of flyers presenting only one narrow view of the world. Paul had shown her a completely different world. Because at first she mistrusted his ideas, she had questioned them, tested them against reality. Yet until recently, she had not tested her own long-held beliefs. Her intolerable situation, she saw now, was a direct result of trying to reconcile two mutually exclusive views of reality.

Okay, so she had to choose: face the mistake she'd made, and pay the price by giving up her standing as a law-abiding citizen. That was the only way to save her son's life. Or she could keep her old friends (perhaps they would forgive her this one transgression), maintain her social position, get another job... and let her son die while she herself was still young.

I wish I'd thrown his damned Mitochondria book into the hospital cafeteria trash bin, she thought. Better yet, never laid eyes on him.

Horrified, then, she realized she had just wished for ignorance and, along with it, an early death for Alex. She told herself: That's exactly what would've happened if I'd never met Paul Gibson. I'd never have known there was any other choice for my son. She felt dizzy, closed her eyes, drifted into a dream.

"Jill." Someone held her hand. She opened her eyes. Paul stood by her bed.

With great effort, she focused her mind. "Where's Alex? Did they take him back to Keith's house?"

"He's still with Wayne. I'm going to get him now."

A fog of hopelessness and hatred.

"Still with Wayne? Paul, I don't want Alex to go back to Keith's. I don't want him to die."

"There's a way, I think." He leaned across her, lowering his voice. On the other side of the curtain, the moans went on and on, like an animal panting in pain. "I'd like to take him to Roberta's ranch. We don't have time to talk about it now, but I have a plan."

"I'm coming with you." The fog began to lift. "Getting out of here. Right now." Jill sat up, grabbed at Paul's arm to steady herself.

"The doctor won't release you until she's had a chance to examine you again. I don't think that'll happen any time soon. They just brought in six or seven people from another car wreck."

"Paul, see if you can find my clothes. I don't care what the doctor said, I'm leaving."

"Can't see them. Maybe your clothing got cut off you when you were brought in."

"Improvise. See if you can find something, anything I could put on."

"Let me see your eyes." She saw his gaze go to the padded bandage covering most of her forehead. Frowning, he looked at her eyes. He cupped her face in his hands, then, and kissed her lips. "I don't see any abnormal pupil dilation. You're going to have a hell of a headache when the analgesics wear off, and you'll need to keep that wound clean. Okay, I'll get you some clothes. Be right back."

Minutes later he returned with a maternity dress, large orange, red, and pink flowers on white, and tartan slippers. "Some unlucky mother will have to call home for a change of clothes. She'll make the hospital buy her a new dress, but they'll never find another one this gorgeous."

"We can return it later. God, this is atrocious!" Jill pulled the thing over her head. "How do I look?"

"Like the 'before' footage for an Extreme Makeover. Will you risk arrest for petty theft to own this dress?"

"Maybe we can find some rope to cinch it up around the waist."

Paul smothered his laughter. "Let's worry about the finer points of style later. Come on, we'll sneak out while everyone's busy."

Thursday, July 3

The streets of Junction, Texas were deserted at 1:00 a.m. The kid had fallen asleep a couple of hours back, and Wayne had let himself coast, switching the radio back and forth between Country 101 and Oldies 103. Not a cop in sight the whole trip, and almost no traffic.

Okay, now, according to Gibson the Lucky Star Motel was just the other side of Junction. We've got it made, Wayne thought. Past the last yellow blinking traffic light and heading back out into the darkness of the countryside.

A red light flashed behind them.

His first impulse was to step on the accelerator, try to outrun the cop. No, that'd be futile. He'd had the bad luck to pick a vehicle in need of a tune-up. It was all he could manage to get the shit heap up to sixty miles per hour. With a deep sigh he slowed, pulled to the shoulder and tried to stop his hands from shaking.

The cop checked the license plate on the Ranger.

"Good evening, sir." That gave him a momentary shock; people didn't usually call him "sir". It's the business suit, he thought. The cop shone his flashlight in Wayne's face, moved it to get a view of the kid. With relief Wayne saw that the boy's wig had stayed on straight.

"Good evening, officer." Wayne tried to make his voice and diction as dignified as his suit.

"Are you aware that your brake lights are not working?"

"No, sir, I wasn't." Please don't ask to see my driver's license.

Alex stirred. Oh my God, please don't wake up. Please don't say anything.

"Are we there yet, Dad?" Alex yawned. In the flashlight beam, wearing the wig, you couldn't tell that he had some awful disease. If he even did, any more.

"We're still on the road, Matilda," he said. "The officer stopped to let us know our brake lights are not working properly."

"Wait here, please. I'll be right back." The cop walked back to his car.

"What's he doing?" whispered Alex.

"Probably running a computer check." Wayne prepared himself for violence, struggling to retain his composure. In the rear view mirror he saw that the cop had stopped at the rear of the pickup. He turned and yelled to Wayne, "Hit your brakes, could you?"

"Okay," Wayne yelled back.

The cop approached the front of the truck again. "Right side's working, but not the left. I'm not going to ticket you on this, sir, but make sure you get that problem taken care of first thing in the morning." The cop smiled at the dear little girl in the passenger seat.

"I surely will! Thank you for letting me know."

"Y'all take care." The cop nodded and walked back to his car.

For a moment, Wayne's body shook so badly he couldn't move. As he started the car again, his hands were damp with sweat. "Good job, Alex. I was scared you'd say something to give us away. Wouldn't have been good for any of us."

"We're climbing the ropes together. Well done, my good man."

Wayne gave an incredulous laugh, but the kid wasn't mocking him in some smart ass way. He found himself relaxing. "Yep, pardner, I haven't forgotten."

Thursday, July 3

Room number 8 of the Lucky Star Motel was at the inner corner of the L-shaped red brick building. Carpet and bedspread were threadbare, walls dingy, but Jill, head reeling, was thankful for a stationary place to lie down. She truly felt vile. Was it her delayed period, on top of everything else? God, I hope not, she thought. Something nagged at the corner of her attention: It's been two months now. Then the thought was swamped by a bout of nausea. Paul sat at the dusty motel window watching for Wayne and Alex; she allowed herself to rest, give way to the exhaustion of the trip from Austin. Half hysterical with fear for her son, she'd vomited twice by the side of the road.

Not allowing herself to contemplate the worst possibilities, she snuggled into the pillow, marvelled that a lumpy bed in a sleazy motel could feel so comforting. The door, voices. Incredibly, then, Alex's arms were around her.

"Mom! Wake up. I was so worried about you. Wayne said you had a wreck. Oh, your poor head!"

It was a little girl, herself at ten in old photographs. "What in the world?" Her son's face was framed by long golden curls. For a moment Jill wondered if the concussion had brought on hallucinations.

"It's a disguise, Mom. Wayne took me to this really cool place with all kinds of costumes. Knights and cowboys. They even had part of an old car there."

"I'm so glad to see you, honey." In real life and in movies, Jill had always felt slightly contemptuous of people who cried from happiness, but she found herself weeping now, overcome with joy and relief. She hugged Alex until he squirmed to get loose.

"I'm starving, Mom. Wayne—that's Payback's real name—he said there wasn't enough time to stop and eat."

She lowered her voice. "Where is he now?" Paul was sitting in the room's one chair, watching them tensely. He came over, sat on the squeaking bed.

"Wayne wanted to wait in the car. Said he didn't want to upset you." Paul tousled the boy's wig, grinning, and placed his open hand above the bandage on Jill's forehead. "How yuh feeling?"

"Wimpy, but a little better. Get the son of a bitch in here, Paul."

"You sure?" Paul looked doubtful. "He didn't have to bring Alex to us, but he did."

She was shaking. "I want to kill him."

"Mom, he helped me."

"Hush, sweetie," Jill said. Her muscles remained locked with fury, and her head was pounding again.

"I called Roberta," Paul said, "and I explained what's going on. Told her we're on the way. I hate to ask you to get up again so soon, Jill, but I think it'll be best to go on tonight. Sooner we get Alex safely hidden away, the better."

"You're right, of course. Don't worry, I don't have a weapon. I won't shoot the bastard in the back."

Alex looked anxiously from Jill to Paul. "You won't send me back to Dad's, will you?"

"No way, sweetheart." Jill hugged him again. "We're going to that ranch first, then we may go on to Mexico." She pushed herself up from the bed, sick and angry and somehow at the same time filled with waves of relief. It surprised her that a single human could contain such conflicted emotions. But the anger was ebbing, she could feel it falling away from her in a continued rush of gratitude for her child's return. Was it God she had to thank? Paul? God forgive her, did she owe the monster Wayne Elliot a debt? Tears flooding down her face, she walked with Alex and Paul to the door, and stepped into the night.

Thursday, July 3

Now that he was back with Mom and Paul, Alex found he wasn't frightened any more. This was high adventure, the most thrilling experience of his life. He was relieved Mom and Paul had decided to let Wayne come with them, and a little sorry Wayne had fallen asleep across the back seat almost the second he climbed in. Poor old Wayne! He was entertaining to talk to when he wasn't having one of his crazy anger spells.

Facing backwards in the rear of the Humvee, Alex looked up at the stars, expecting his mother to go frantic at any moment and order him into the front. She must be sleeping too, he thought. Paul said they'd given her some sort of medicine at the hospital to relax her. Funny, Alex himself didn't feel tired at all. Far overhead he saw the lights of some sort of aircraft. Maybe it was a spaceship, he thought. It wouldn't surprise him all that much if a spaceship landed directly in the Humvee's path. It had been that kind of day.

Paul called to him quietly. "You all right back there, kiddo?"

"Uh huh."

The lights were still there, high in the air. Whatever it was seemed to be moving in a circle, roughly centred on the Humvee.

"Paul." He crawled toward the front on his hands and knees. "Someone's following us up in the sky."

"Really? What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Maybe a spaceship? A UFO? They abduct people, you know."

"Well, keep an eye on it for us, will you?"

"Okay." Paul was just playing along, not really taking him seriously. Alex loved Mom and Paul, but they still seemed to think he was dumb just because he was a kid. Wayne was the only one who took him seriously. Wayne had said, "You're a genius, you know that? They rewired you into a genius, just like they said. Pity it didn't work with me." He'd given a gritty, bitter laugh. "Awakened the goddamned serial killer within." Whatever that meant.

 

It was a long time before the Humvee turned off the highway onto a narrow, bumpy road. Alex passed the time by memorizing the patterns of the brighter stars, giving certain groups of stars names based on objects they reminded him of: The Eyeglasses, The Motorcycle, The Dog Turd. He laughed quietly at that. Their airborne escort stayed with them, but Alex didn't bother to mention it again to Paul. He tried to tune in to their crackly discussion with his little home-made radio, and what the voices seemed to be saying scared him badly but he knew there was no point telling the adults, not even Wayne. They couldn't really have spoken his name. He found a trap door in the floor and played with it, snicking it up and shutting it quietly. It didn't seem to have much in it except a few tools.

The darkness on either side of the car was thicker and blacker than he had ever seen before. Nothing existed except the sky, the Humvee, and the short section of road illuminated by the Humvee's lights. It was mysterious and exciting; he liked it. He pulled something small and heavy out of his backpack, a small sphere about two inches in diameter, and switched it on with the GameBoy console. Slowly it rose and hovered just below the roof of the Humvee, emitting a soft green glow. Chuckling, Alex plucked it from the air and tossed it in his hand. He really liked making these toys. Sherry would love this one. He wondered when he'd see his sisters again. He heard a hiss of indrawn breath. Wayne was watching him from the back seat, eyes glimmering in the pale green light. Alex quickly put the flying machine back in his bag.

At last they turned onto an even narrower road and stopped in front of a sprawling series of linked buildings that looked a bit like factories but with huge windows and a wide porch with columns like carved tree trunks. Paul got out and walked over stiffly to a tall blonde woman who came out the door.

"We're going to have to help Jill," he said. They came back to the vehicle.

"Lean on me, dear," the woman said kindly to Mom. Up close, Alex could see that the blonde woman was much older than his mom. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

The lights in the sky were bigger now and farther apart. Whatever had been following them was getting closer. Far back down the road, he could see headlights. Farther away, more lights. Cars coming. Not just one car. Alex didn't like it. What if they were looking for him? The blonde woman had her arm around Mom, walking with her into the house.

"Hey, where've you got to, kiddo?" Paul turned back to the Humvee. Moving as quickly as he could, Alex pulled open the trap door, exposing its rectangular opening. Wayne was gone, scooted out the back the moment they'd stopped.

"Alex, come on in and get something to eat." As Paul reached to open the passenger side door, Alex lowered himself silently into the hiding place. It was a tight, uncomfortable fit, but he was able to lower the top as Paul opened the door of the Humvee.

"Alex?" After a moment the door slammed, and he heard Paul walking away toward the house. A few minutes later there were footsteps again. Paul and the blonde woman talking.

"She was asleep the minute her head touched the pillow. Where's the boy?"

"He seems to have disappeared. Along with the man I told you about." Paul sounded worried, but it was probably better to stay hidden in here.

"Maybe the boy's asleep in the back," she said.

"I checked, but it won't hurt to look again. Alex!" Paul sounded really upset this time.

"What's that?"

Alex recognized a new sound, the throb of a helicopter. Oh. Not a spaceship after all. That's what those sky lights were, and they really had been talking about him.

"Oh my god, Paul, looks like they've got the police forces of four counties coming up the road."

"Roberta, don't say anything about Alex, okay? I have a feeling he saw this coming and hid."

Yes! Old Paul was a little slow, Alex thought, but at least he'd finally figured out what was going on.