Bea Cannon

A SMALL GRAY DOT

Part One: The Event

Prologue

AND THE WORLD WENT TO SHIT…

Chapter One

“YOU NEED TO TAKE A BREAK, TENN. YOU’RE going to get eyestrain.”

I looked up from my laptop and smiled at Zoni standing there in her short black and white clingy nightshirt that barely covered anything. She was tiny but she had curves and knew how to use them to make my interest rise. She was holding a coffee mug in one hand and her other hand rested on one of those delectable curves.

“I’m okay, baby, I just want to get a couple of chapters done.”

“Here, take this and relax. You’ve been at that for hours.”

I sighed. “I know, I know, but I want to get as much finished as I can before the wedding.” I grinned as I swung my chair around from the small fold-up table I called my desk. “We’re going to be way too busy afterward.” I pulled my cute and sexy lady onto my lap as she set the mug beside my pencil holder.

I held her, thinking back over the last three years since I’d graduated with a bachelor’s in education, a desire to teach, and a dream of someday being a published writer. I mused on my incredible luck at having found her in the middle of all of that.

*

I met her at a cookout the summer after my first year as a middle school English teacher.

“Meet Zoni Avery,” said our mutual friend, Lauren as she handed us glasses of something alcoholic. “She teaches music at the new school of the arts.”

I smiled down at the petite, cute, high school music teacher as I took the glass from Lauren. I didn’t believe in love at first sight. That’s usually lust or at least it was for me, but the instant attraction I felt on meeting Zoni was different. It was more of a connection and it made me a believer because I fell into her big beautiful brown eyes and something on a deep level inside said, “This is it. This is the one”.

“Zoni, meet Tennessee Murray, he teaches English.”

Zoni looked up at me with those big brown eyes – and laughed.

Someone called Lauren’s name and she said, “Uh-oh, gotta go guys. Somebody wants my services. You two talk to each other. Grab yourselves something to eat from the stack on the counter. I’ll be back.” She took off for the gazebo at the bottom of the yard.

I raised an eyebrow at this woman I’d just met who seemed to find my name so amusing.

“Um, is my name that funny?”

Shaking her head, she grinned and said, “Oh, no, it just that… well, everyone calls me Zoni but my name is actually Arizona.”

Okay. I saw it then, and had to crack a grin of my own.

Then, as her eyes danced mischievously, she said, “Furthermore, my little sister Minnie’s name is Minnesota.”

It was getting good. I chuckled. “I have an older sister whom we call Missy. Can you guess her name?”

She stared at me, unsure if I was putting her on. Then she said, “It wouldn’t be Mississippi would it?”

“Bingo. Hey, you got it right off.” I laughed as she almost spit out her drink.

“For real?” she asked trying not to strangle. “I just said that because I thought you were messing with me!”

I grinned. “Nope, no kidding. Her name is Mississippi.”

“What are the odds? Here we are just meeting, and both have parents that saw fit to name their kids for states!” she said shaking her head.

We laughed about it and spent the rest of the evening together, shooing away Lauren when she came back.

She was from Baltimore and was surprised that I was born in Charlotte. “You don’t sound like a Southerner,” she said.

“My parents are from Jamaica, thus my less than Southern accent. But I can speak Southern.”

“Show me,” she said, and laughed when I demonstrated I could drawl with the best when I wanted to.

She had a wonderful laugh and used it a lot.

I told her I was an aspiring writer but that teaching was my first love. She loved to sing but was as dedicated to the profession as I was. She’d also just completed her first year of teaching and was looking forward to the next, and she’d started online classes to get her master’s in education, which was the same thing I’d done. I asked her for a date and things progressed from there. We were as good for each other as I somehow knew we would be. She encouraged my writing while I encouraged her singing.

*

I snapped back to the present when Zoni leaned into me and planted her hands on either side of my face. She stared into my eyes. “Tenn, the way you’re going, you’ll be dead tired by our wedding day, and too worn-out to enjoy our honeymoon cruise. I know you want to finish the book, Hon, and I want you to finish, but you also need to rest. We’re going to be gone for four glorious weeks of cruising and touring all over the Caribbean, and visiting—”

I brought her lips to mine, cutting her off. When she finally pulled back, she smiled, forming those perfect little dimples in her smooth, chocolate cheeks. I licked both, something that always made her giggle, and then gazed into her eyes. She made a good argument. I could hop back on it the next day while she was gone to pick up her wedding dress.

She said it was bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding so she was taking it to Shantel’s place, her best friend and maid-of-honor, and it would stay there for the next four days.

Shantel was going with her to pick up the dress, and I knew she and Zoni would get into a gabfest, especially since the other bridesmaids were going to meet up with them. I’d have plenty of time to finish those two chapters. Besides, with her on my lap, I knew I was finished writing for the night. I picked up the coffee mug and took a sip.

I shot up an eyebrow. “Hey, this is wine.”

She laughed at my expression. “Of course it is, silly. Did you think I was going to give you coffee this time of night?” Smiling, she added in that sultry voice she knew would weaken my already feeble will when it came to her, “I’d never get you to bed if I did that.”

I glanced at the clock on the nightstand: one-oh-eight. I hadn’t realized it was that late. I tended to lose track of time when writing.

*

The fall before I met Zoni, I’d joined a writing group, and Adam Jones, also a teacher and one of the group members who’d written and published a number of childrens books, read one of my short stories.

“This is good, Tenn,” he said smiling as he finished. “With some expansion, I think it would make for a great adventure novel.” He looked up at me. “I’m serious, give it a shot.”

He’d been in the business for a while – about twenty years – and I guessed he should know. In addition, I’d learned he helped a couple of other writers.

I was encouraged but uncertain if I’d have the time. “Well, I’m pretty busy. I’d have to squeeze writing into my spare time.”

Adam grinned. “Welcome to the world of writers, my boy. If we have a day job, we all have to squeeze it in.”

So I squeezed, and finished a first draft and Adam helped me get beta readers. They assured me it was certain to be a hit with the middle school crowd. Acting as my agent, he got me in with his small but professional publishing company.

They said my book was the sort of thing for which they were looking, so with Adam’s help and that of a good editor, the year after I met Zoni, I realized my dream of becoming a published author. I was thrilled, she was thrilled for me, and it made my day when several of my students mentioned how much they enjoyed the story.

No, it didn’t set the world on fire, but according to the publisher, the sales were decent for a first-time novelist and would get better once I built a following. They suggested I begin writing a sequel. I had doubts about having the time between teaching and everything involved with that, and doing book signings while continuing to work on my master’s degree, but with Zoni’s encouragement, I carved out time in which to write a little every night.

Sometimes I went a bit overboard.

*

I drained the mug and stood up, keeping her in my arms. “You know, you’re awfully smart, my lady. It’s definitely time for bed.”

She laughed again as she slid her arms around my neck and wrapped her legs around my waist. She wriggled her behind against my arms. “I know. I also know your interest is steadily rising.”

I chuckled as I carried her from the corner of our bedroom that served as my office, and laid her on the bed. She was shucking the nightshirt as I began peeling out of my clothes…

*

The year before, with my book published and me diving into writing the sequel, between my job and working on my master’s, I was busy, but I was also in love, so on the first anniversary of the day we met, I proposed, and Zoni said yes.

We set a date for June 30th of the next year because, she said, “It’s romantic and by then it will be exactly two years since we met.” She also had a practical side and she added on a serious note, “Waiting a year will give us time to save for the wedding and fabulous honeymoon I want, without having to go into too much debt, Tenn. Besides, I don’t want my parents to feel as though they have to help pick up the tab. They’ve done so much for me already by helping me pay for college, and don’t forget, they’re trying to save for Minnie’s college, too. They’d have to go into debt for it and that would be too big a strain on them.”

That was Zoni – so loving and considerate. Moreover, I understood. Neither of us came from a rich family. My parents did the same for my sister and me. Besides, we would have our masters out of the way by then.

She got no argument from me when she decided to give up the more expensive apartment she had and move into the small, two-rooms-with-a-bath affair I’d finally been able to rent halfway through my first year of teaching. It was in an old apartment building that wasn’t first-rate or in the best part of town, but the rent was cheaper than what she was paying even though she had a roommate, so, we’d be able to save more. She put us on a strict budget and was diligent about it. It worked. We actually managed to avoid having to go into debt at all. We saved enough to pay for everything.

*

By the time Zoni got back home from her get-together with her maid-of-honor and bridesmaids, I had not only finished the two chapters on which I’d been working, I even managed to complete a third. I was eager to finish the manuscript as my first book had finally picked up in popularity and sales, and the publisher advised me that they wanted the sequel ready to release the following spring.

They’d put a grin on my face the previous week by sending me a much fatter than usual royalty check. Zoni and I celebrated by looking at real estate brochures. With bigger royalty checks and higher pay because of the master degrees, we’d be able to get that condo we’d put on our wish list. In one of the brochures, Zoni liked the ones going up in a two-year old subdivision called Blue Heaven. We planned to check them out when we returned from our honeymoon.

The new book was coming along nicely so even with taking off for four weeks, I was on track to have the first draft finished by the time school started up at the end of August. Since I wouldn’t be quite as busy as I’d been for the last year, I would have a decently proofed and edited draft ready to send off to my beta readers by October, and by December – January at the latest – the final editing, proofing, and rewrites could begin. I was confident it would be ready to publish on time.

I would’ve taken Zoni out to dinner when she got home that evening, but she insisted on cooking. She made one of my favorite meals – spicy jerk chicken with red beans and rice. As I sat across from her at our small table, she chuckled as she watched me eat.

“I love it when you demolish my cooking with that kind of passion. I’m gonna have to make this more often.”

I grinned and nodded, mouth too full to speak, and I mused on the fact that in addition to having a great family, wonderful friends, a challenging and interesting job, and realizing my dream of publishing, I was engaged to the most incredible woman in the world. Everything was falling into place and the future was bright. Things could only get better.

The next day was Thursday, June 27, 2047. It was three days before our wedding, and sometime after six a.m., the world went to shit.

Chapter Two

A WHISPER OF SOUND AWAKENED ME, OR perhaps it was some subliminal thought, maybe an unremembered dream. I didn’t have anywhere to be that morning, so it wasn’t my alarm as I hadn’t set it. But, I suppose that’s not important.

I shifted around and stretched out an arm feeling for Zoni, and struck emptiness. That meant she was up and either in the bathroom or in the kitchen. The semi-lit room was silent. Usually, wherever she was she’d be singing, but that morning she wasn’t. I turned over and swung an eye to the clock. Five after six. I ran a hand over my face and sat up in the rumpled bed. I draped my legs over the side.

“Zoni? Hey, baby, you in the bathroom?” There was no answer but the bathroom light wasn’t on so I went in and did my morning thing, wondering why my girl wasn’t singing. I came out and pulled on my pajama bottoms just in case somebody had dropped by the apartment. It was early but it had happened before. I once elicited a shriek from one of Zoni’s friends that way.

In a few steps, I pulled open the bedroom door and looked out into our combo livingroom/ kitchen. It was empty.

Then I noticed the chain latch on the door was hanging down. Perhaps someone actually had come by, and Zoni took them out into the hall because she hadn’t wanted to wake me. Or take a chance on me stepping from the bedroom with my assets hanging out. I walked over and gripped the knob, not surprised at finding it locked. I thumbed off the latch and stuck my head out prepared to tease her for locking herself out again.

The hall was empty.

Closing the door, I scratched my head. It wasn’t like her to leave without telling me, especially so early in the morning. Then, I spotted the note under her Bigfoot magnet on our small fridge: “We’re out of bacon, Hon. Gone to Quick Mart, back in a few. Love ya!” She always used the Bigfoot magnet to leave notes for me. It was her joke – she’d teased me about the size of my feet from the time she first saw them. She put her size five next to my size fourteen and cracked up. Said one of my shoes was big enough for her to bathe in. There was a little brown elf magnet on there, too – my allusion to her diminutive size.

I smiled. My woman. She knew how much I loved my bacon in the morning.

The store opened at six and it was a few minutes after, so she hadn’t been gone long. That meant I had time to meet her before she got back because the Quick Mart was only a block down the street. Even if she’d gotten there as it was opening, she wouldn’t have started back yet. She could never go in and pick up just one thing; she’d cruise the aisles for other items every time.

Perhaps we could grab a cup of coffee at the little shop next door and she wouldn’t have to fool around with our sometimey coffee maker, which brought on cussing when, as she put it, “It just sits there smirking at me!”

I went back to the bedroom and threw on sweat pants, a tee shirt, and my sneakers. I stuck my cellphone in a pocket then glanced at the unmade bed hesitating. Last one out had to make the bed and Zoni would be pissed if I left it. I pulled up the sheets but decided to finish as soon as we got back. I grinned. Maybe I could convince her to climb back in with me for a few minutes since we had the morning free. I meandered back through the living room and noticed she’d not opened the curtain on our lone window in the room.

She loved it that our apartment was on an outer wall and that there was a side window through which there was a view of the park trees three blocks away and the tops of the uptown skyscrapers. When I’d mentioned that only the very tops were visible, she said, “Well, it may not be that great but it beats the view we get from our bedroom window!”

That was the red brick wall of the apartment building behind ours. I had to concede that she had a point.

Usually, the first thing she did in the morning was draw back the curtains and admire the view, but I supposed she had getting bacon on her mind and ducked out without doing it. I went over and pulled the curtains apart.

I blinked at the thick mist outside. With such a heavy fog, it would be hard to see. Now why would she go out in that, I wondered, bacon wasn’t that important.

Hoping she’d done her usual aisle cruise and was still at the store, I fished out my cellphone to tell her to wait for me.

“Call Zoni”, I said to the phone. It didn’t ring. I frowned and peered at it. “No signal indicated” was flashing at the top. That was unusual as I’d always been able to get good reception in the apartment. Annoyance edged its way into my mind and intermingled with a small finger of – not quite worry but more of a tinge of unease. I didn’t want her walking back in that murk alone.

I spun around and made my way out the door. I didn’t want to wait on the creaky, too-slow elevators so I dipped to the stairwell.

The lights flickered as I clattered down the three flights to the lobby. They steadied but as I reached the bottom and stepped out, they flickered again and then went all the way out enveloping the lobby in a gray gloom. I stopped and looked up. All the lights were out; even the little one between the two elevators was gone.

I stood there for a moment then shrugged and started across to the front door. Probably the rotten wiring in the building had struck again. The lights had taken a dive before. The landlord kept promising to get the problem fixed but was dragging his feet about it.

From behind me came footsteps and a voice. “Damn!”

I turned and Dave, one of our first floor neighbors, emerged from the hall. A frown had his bushy, gray-flecked eyebrows bunched together and resembling a brown and white wooly worm hanging over his eyes.

“Morning, Dave. Have we been visited by the lights-out fairy again?” I asked.

He peered at me over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “Hey, Tenn. Yeah, looks that way. They went out as I was coming down the hall.” He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “Well, it’s not the first time. They’ll likely pop back on soon.” He glanced toward the lobby window. “I was going out for a jog before it starts heating up but, uh, that fog looks pretty heavy. Believe I’ll wait ‘til it lifts. Wasn’t anything on the weather report about it but they aren’t always right, you know.”

“True, but that’s why I’m going out. Zoni went to the Quick Mart to pick up something and I don’t want her wandering around alone in this, so I’m going to meet her. We’ll be right back.”

I peered through the glass in the door. I couldn’t make out the lamp pole at the sidewalk but even through the fog, I should’ve been able to see the glow from its light and I didn’t. That would mean it was out and with the fog being so dense, it should’ve been on.

“Hey, Dave, I don’t think it’s only the building this time. Looks like the street lights are out, too.” I started through the door but then it struck me that somebody should call the power company. Letting the door swing back shut, I stopped and pulled out my cellphone. Still no signal. It was annoying, but I knew Dave’s apartment was equipped with an old-fashioned landline, so I said, “My phone’s not getting reception but landlines should be working. Call the power company. Someone going too fast in this mess could’ve hit a power pole somewhere.”

He nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Okay.” He shook his head as he headed back towards his apartment, muttering, “Some folk just won’t slow down for nothing. Damned fools…”

Pushing through the door, I paused on the small porch for a moment, frowning. It was cooler than I’d thought it would be, though, with the fog blocking the sun, I supposed that was to be expected. One would think it would’ve been humid or damp but there was no hint of moisture in the air, and I guess fogs don’t always swirl but this one was sitting out there rock steady, as if someone had dropped a solid sheet of gray down on the world.

Feeling as though there were a film on my eyes, I blinked and gave in to the urge to rub them, which of course didn’t help. I glanced up. I could see a marginally lighter patch in the east where rays from the morning sun were losing their battle to break through. The rest of the sky was an overall even gray.

A sense of wrongness tugged at me and my anxiety level rose. Zoni wouldn’t have gone out in that. It must’ve been a fast mover that came up after she got to the Quick Mart. I considered that she may have tried to call and hadn’t been able to reach me, and was already on her way back. I needed to get moving.

I hustled down the steps and out into the haze, barely able to see two feet ahead. A little more and I would’ve needed a cane to find my way through. I got across the front parking lot and out to the sidewalk only knowing I’d reached it when the lamppost appeared in front of me. I veered in the direction of the store a block away. Glancing around, I couldn’t see much; the buildings were merely dark blobs. I’d have to be careful not to step off the sidewalk and into the street or actually run into and knock Zoni down if she was on her way back.

It was around six-twenty, about fifteen minutes since I awakened, and though most folk were probably still pulling themselves from bed or preparing for work, there were usually a few out for an early morning jog or walking the dog. But, if anyone else was out and about, I didn’t hear them and I definitely couldn’t see them. I didn’t hear any barking dogs, either, and normally there would be at least one out there yapping. It was dead quiet. Too quiet, even for that early in the morning. It was a bit strange that I also wasn’t hearing any traffic. I shrugged. Likely, it was due to the heavy fog. Not many would want to venture out into it and I thought perhaps it was muffling the usual morning noises.

I didn’t run into Zoni, but I almost fell off the curb when I got to the corner, barely managing to stop in time. I looked up towards the traffic light. Couldn’t see it but since I saw no red, orange, or green winking at me from above, I knew it was dead, too. I peered through the mist trying to make out the store across the street but it appeared the power outage extended into the next block and all I saw was a faint blur slightly darker than the fog.

I got to the building and pulled open the door. Inside was full of shadows, but I could see no one was at the front checkout counter. A trickle of worry inched into my mind. Shouldn’t anybody in the store be at the front? Perhaps commenting about the fog or complaining to each other about the power outage? Then, I shook my head. I was getting paranoid. The clerk had likely gone to the back to call the power company, and with it being early, there wouldn’t be many customers. Maybe they’d gone with him, and perhaps Zoni was in the ladies room.

“Hello? Where’s everybody?”

There was no answer. The place felt empty and my sense that something wasn’t quite right ratcheted up. I stretched my eyes trying to force them to see better in the darkened, quiet interior, wishing I had a flashlight. Then I remembered I did – on my phone. It wasn’t getting reception but I didn’t need a signal to work the light. I flicked it on.

“Zoni? Where are you babes?” I hadn’t run into her on the way there, so she had to be in the store. But I got no answer.

I started toward the back, and out the corner of my eye, I caught movement to the left. I swung in that direction. At the aisle next to the long ceiling to floor window that formed the wall on the side, I got an impression of a shadowy outline.

“Zoni?” It came out softly from my suddenly dry throat.

The back of my neck prickled but I had to find her so I went over and turned to shine my light down the aisle. Nothing. The half-seen figure must have been on the other side of the window and it had appeared to be nearly my height, too tall to be Zoni. Or perhaps it had not been there at all.

Unease beat at me. If Zoni wasn’t in the store, that would be troubling because where else would she be? I headed down the aisle, and made a right, intending to bypass the next one and go knock on the ladies’ room door. My foot hit something slippery causing me to slide and almost fall. Startled, I aimed my light at the floor. A dark liquid was seeping in from somewhere and puddling at the bottom of the aisle. It was hard to tell with the little phone light but it looked like transmission fluid. Or blood.

The prickle in my neck expanded and ran down my back. I moved my light along the floor. A rivulet from up the aisle snaked down to the puddle. I froze when the narrow beam came to rest on something lying a few feet away. My heart sped up as I started forward. Avoiding stepping in the liquid, I inched up on the still form.

Horror slithered into my mind as I found myself looking down into the pasty face and fixed eyes of the clerk who always opened up the place in the morning and manned the front counter.

His unattached head lay at an angle to his body and his body was in four pieces.

Chapter Three

FOR A MOMENT, THE WORLD TILTED. I staggered back. I’m not sure but I think I yelled. I know I puked because my stomach spasmed and the bile that rose into my throat went spraying from my mouth. I dragged the bottom of my tee shirt across my lips, gripped my cellphone, and backed away with dread twanging in me like a guitar. I turned to run and slipped in the viscous liquid, landing on my hands and knees. The phone went skittering down the aisle. I scrambled to catch it and then raced to the bathrooms in the back. I threw open the door of the women’s room. No Zoni. I flung open the one to the men’s room. Nothing.

A feeling of crawling insects covered my entire body as I kicked aside the door to the small back office. It was empty. Spotting the desk phone, I yelled, “Call 911!” There was no response so I grabbed it and jammed it to my ear. Silence; no dial tone. I slammed it down and ran back out into the store where I tore up and down each aisle searching for Zoni. Finding nothing I raced to the front door and burst out into the eerie fog. The morning was no longer quiet. Screams and hoarse yells were coming from different directions and somewhere in the distance, a siren screeched. I was shocked to realize it was the alert put in place a few years back during the tensions between the US and China that almost caused a major conflict until cooler heads prevailed.

The noise added to my fear. I couldn’t tell if we were under attack but something bad was happening. Foremost in my mind was finding Zoni so I didn’t stop to try to find out what it might be. I ran around the outside of the building, peering into every misty shadow, scrabbling inside the half-filled dumpster, but I found nothing. I dashed back up the street, shining my light into each parking lot and yard, calling her name. Other people were out on the street by then. I couldn’t see more than dark outlines but some of them were yelling and I ran into someone who seemed to be frozen in place almost knocking them down. It was a woman. She peered up at me with frightened eyes.

It wasn’t Zoni. I steadied the woman on her feet, mumbled out an “excuse me”, and kept going. There were other hard to see forms and I dodged aside onto a lawn as one that didn’t appear to notice me, came down the sidewalk going in the direction of the Quick Mart. As the figure went past, I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, but its feet and legs didn’t seem to be moving in synch with its speed and it appeared to be traveling above the pavement. That was disturbing but my mind was fixated on Zoni and relegated it to being a trick of the fog. I didn’t take time to wonder about it.

I arrived in front of the apartment building without seeing her anywhere, and in the parking lot, I spotted a large dark rippling blur that turned out to be a crowd bunched around and staring down at something in front of a couple of parked cars. I muscled my way through. Three figures appearing to be in the same condition as was the store clerk, lay sprawled on the pavement.

One was a woman but I realized almost immediately that she was too big to be Zoni. I didn’t recognize any of them so, amid cries of “What’s happening? Are we being attacked?” I turned and rushed up the steps and burst into the lobby. The frightened voices blended with the screaming siren, making for one big, inarticulate noise. I slammed the door shutting it all out.

Dave was sitting on the scruffy burgundy couch in the lobby, his head upright. He seemed to be staring at the wall across from him. I jammed my phone into a pocket as I went over to him.

“Dave!” I shouted, “What the hell’s going on? There’re dead people out there and I can’t find Zoni!”

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t moving and his face was ashen. I thought he must be as shocked as I was and this was his reaction so I reached down and gently shook his shoulder. “Dave?”

It was only then I realized that, in the dimly lit room, what looked like creases in his clothing was actually dark blood running down from thin, horizontal slits. I jumped back.

What the hell?

He seemed to nod and his glasses fell off as his head tumbled into his lap. The rest of him fell into four pieces as his torso collapsed onto his head and his legs parted ways with his thighs. His blood-spattered glasses caught on the piping at the edge of the couch by a handle, and in seemingly slow motion, most of him slid to the threadbare carpet on the lobby floor and landed with a sickening meaty thump. Blood soaked into the couch and ran down the legs while the smell of voided bowels permeated the room. My stomach churned as I reeled back, and bile crawled up my throat. I popped out in sweat as I swallowed to keep from puking again. Panic beat at me and I spun around and ran for the stairs.

The stairwell was pitch-black so I switched my phone light back on before sprinting up. I reached my apartment and hauled out my keys with shaking fingers, and got the door unlocked. The gray light from the window cast itself over the room as, dazed, I collapsed on the couch. My heart pounded out Zoni’s name with each beat as I sat there trying to get my brain to quit flitting around like an insane hamster. I was in shock but I needed to think.

The only thing I knew was that something had happened, something terrible, and I didn’t have a clue as to what it was. People were dying and Zoni was missing. I forced my mind to quit racing. I couldn’t keep sitting there; I had to go back out to look for her. I thought she must be frightened and hiding somewhere. Maybe she’d run the other way from the store when whatever happened to the clerk… happened.

I needed a bigger light than the one on my phone so I went to the drawer in the kitchen and pulled out the small flashlight we kept for emergencies. I flicked it on as I headed into the bedroom to get my gun case from the closet. I didn’t know what was going on but I had a vague idea that I might need a weapon. The first thing the beam bounced off was the bed.

She was wearing her favorite yellow sweats and lay on her back on what had become her side of the bed, her eyes staring at the ceiling. Blood surrounded her, soaking into the sheets and dripping to the floor.

No.

It’s possible I screamed that word, I don’t remember. Perhaps I merely whispered. I do remember that my breath refused to leave my lungs and my head roared. My body filled with ice crystals and my heart faltered. Without knowing how I’d gotten there, I was on the bed, a frozen statue on my hands and knees gazing down at her. I’d dropped the flashlight and its glow reflected back from the big mirror she had me attach to our little closet door. The stark light washed over her as I stared at her unseeing eyes, her rich chocolate face that had become a dull grayish brown, her perfect full lips that were slightly parted as though she was about to speak.

The dark liquid from her body.

I drew a ragged breath into a tightened chest that was a ball of pain, my eyes unable to leave her face. I wanted to go break the mirror to banish the light so I couldn’t see her but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I reached down a trembling hand and closed her staring eyes – gently so as not to cause her decapitated head to shift. My eyes burned but refused to release their tears. With no capacity left to move away, I lay down next to her, and a part of me died.

I wanted it to not be real, to be a horrible nightmare brought on by the spicy food I’d eaten for dinner the night before. I wanted it to be a hallucination, a memory from some stupid horror movie. But I wasn’t able to give myself a lie in which to hide and I knew it to be true. For whatever reason, this terrible thing that was happening, this… this… wrongness… had taken Zoni. And I had not been able to protect her. To save her.

I don’t know how long I huddled beside her with her lifeblood soaking into my clothing but it had congealed, and the flashlight grown dim, when at last I was able to force myself to move. I wasn’t really thinking, but it seemed the thing to do, so with care, I began wrapping the sheets around her. When I had her cocooned, I stood there looking down with dry, hurting eyes.

We were to be married in three days. Her gown was waiting at her maid-of-honor’s place so I wouldn’t run up on it in our tiny apartment and see it before our big day. My tux was waiting for me at the rental company. I was supposed to pick it up at three. Her parents and sister were due to arrive from Baltimore the next day for the wedding. Everything was ready. We were ready.

Feeling numb and brittle, as if I might break if I moved too quickly, I began to carefully strip out of my blood-stiffened clothes. As I lurched my way to the bathroom on legs I could barely feel, the lights in the apartment came on. I ignored them. That the power was back was a minor point at the moment. I wanted to wash everything away, make it be last night or any time before now but all I could do was wash away the blood.

My fractured mind began to try and function while I was showering, and it occurred to me to wonder how she’d gotten back to the apartment without my seeing her, but I drew a blank and so I let it go. It didn’t matter. Knowing wouldn’t bring her back to me. When I was done, I got into jeans and a tee shirt, and staring at my blood spattered sneakers, I put on my other pair.

I stumbled into the livingroom where I found my cellphone on the couch. The clock on it announced it was nine forty-three a.m., and I checked to see if it was working now. There was a signal. Hoping to find out what the hell was going on, I cleared my rusty throat and croaked, “911”. The phone didn’t respond to my voice command, so I punched the emergency fast button and listened to it ring as I glanced towards the window. The fog had dissipated and the sun shone brightly over the tops of the uptown towers.

The phone quit ringing and a recorded message came on telling me that due to a citywide crisis all emergency personnel were busy but if I stayed on the line someone would help me. I wasn’t surprised. I shuffled over to the window and looked down. In the bright, cheerful rays of the sun, I saw people in the side parking lot. Some were alive, others, not. I watched with dull eyes for a moment before turning away.

I waited for an answer, and when the message began to repeat, I clicked off 911, and not bothering with voice command since that seemed not to be working, I went to my contacts and tapped the number for my parents’ landline.

The answering service kicked in and my dad’s voice that still carried a slight Jamaican accent, said, “Greetings, family and friends. You missed us this time but leave a message and we’ll call you back. If this is a solicitation, forget it. We don’t want any.” Giggling in the background, my mom’s voice said, “Stop being silly, James!”

It beeped and I rasped out, “Mom! Dad! Pick up!”

Neither did. I shivered and hung up. They were both home. One of them should’ve answered.

I lowered myself to the couch trying to further clear the shock and confusion from my mind. I tried not to think of Zoni wrapped in sheets and lying in the bedroom. I needed to find out what happened, and I needed to talk to my parents.

I switched on the TV. At first, nothing came in except that “no signal” message gotten when the set doesn’t synchronize right off, then the screen flashed and pixilated before clearing. The sheet white face of a channel nine news reporter stared out. He looked as dazed as I felt as he informed me that whatever this… thing… was, it was citywide and there were a number of casualties, but our emergency services were handling it.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed and continued. “We have no data on exactly what caused the, ah, the event that occurred this morning but government authorities are advising everyone to stay in their homes and—” the picture and sound cut out.

Event. It sounded so tame, like a concert or a ball game. The word seemed so… so… inadequate. But then so did “disaster”, or “catastrophe”, or any other such terminology. There should have been a different word, a bigger, more important word for the thing that killed my Zoni.

I sat a few more minutes watching the “no signal” message bounce around the blank screen, then I turned it off.

I tried 911 again but got the same recording. I hung up and called my parents again. Maybe they’d been outside and hadn’t heard the phone. This time I tapped my mom’s cellphone number. There was no answer, and it was the same with my dad’s phone. Then, the phone signal disappeared again and I was back to getting no reception. I looked towards the bedroom. I had to go check on my parents. I didn’t want to go back in there but I couldn’t leave Zoni like that.

I strained my brain and came up with the only solution that managed to work its way through the wool that filled my head. The bedsheets in which I’d wrapped Zoni were what she’d called our “every day” sheets. Her blood had infused the plain white linens and dried. It wasn’t pretty. She wouldn’t like that. I hunted around in the plastic storage bin she’d called our linen closet until I found the red silk sheets she’d gotten us last Valentine’s Day, the ones on which I’d laid flowers and a big box of chocolates for her.

I spread them out and gently rolled her sheet-wrapped body into them, and snugged them around her tightly, like a shroud. Then I used her sewing scissors to cut up the pillowcases, and used the strips as ties to ensure it wouldn’t come loose. Better. She’d loved those sheets.

I had no trouble lifting her. She was a tiny woman weighing only ninety pounds so picking her up was easy. I held her to my chest carefully and it took a moment before I could control my trembling and force my legs toward the door and to the elevator. As I went through the quiet lobby, I avoided looking at what still lay there. I got to the parking lot and as gently as I could, I laid her in the back seat of my car.

When I got behind the wheel I discovered I would have to use the backup key to start the ignition because voice control wasn’t working for the car, either. I went back up to the apartment to get the key since it was something I didn’t normally keep on my keyring. I got back down, started the car, and autodrive also wasn’t working, so that meant none of the directions programmed into the car would work. I would have to drive manually and guide myself. I maneuvered around the dead bodies and the benumbed people shuffling aimlessly around.

Turning out onto the street, I drove in the direction of my parents’ home.

Chapter Four

AS I DROVE, I THOUGHT OF ALL THE THINGS MY parents did for my sister and me, all the lessons we learned from them, all the love they gave to us. They sacrificed and devoted themselves to ensuring my sister and I had everything we needed for a good start in life.

*

I came from a family of teachers; my grandparents were teachers, my mother taught high school biology and my father taught math at the local community college. My sister was into art and had her own studio, but she also taught classes in drawing and painting. There were aunts, uncles, and cousins who worked in the profession.

So, it was no surprise to my family when I chose teaching as a career.

Thrilled when I snagged a position within the Mecklenburg County School District in Charlotte, the city in which I was born and raised, I was eager to get started because the school to which I would be going was one in dire need of new teachers.

Okay. I won’t lie; I was also glad to get a job at home because it meant I wouldn’t have to worry about getting a place to live right off. My parents were great. They encouraged me to stay with them until I could afford to get my own place since, as were most recent college graduates, I was broke until my first paycheck.

The school I was going to was the one in which I wanted to teach. It was within a part of the district that was not as well-heeled as some and funds for certain items were not always available, so I knew I could be a positive influence. My parents were excited for me, happy to see me reach that point. It was the culmination of their hopes for me to have a responsible and fruitful life.

My new colleagues welcomed and praised me for choosing a career that so many young men and women eschewed in favor of a more lucrative profession. Wanting my students to be as successful as possible, I jumped in with enthusiasm, executing all the requirements expected of one tasked with helping mold the minds of the young so they could mature into healthy, happy, and productive participants of society. My work wasn’t over at the end of each school day either, as I often went beyond regular duties. It was no more than I’d seen other teachers do, including my parents.

I managed and participated in fundraisers, including one that achieved success in supplying the newest computers for all the students. To my kids who couldn’t afford them, I distributed the simple items for school such as paper, pencils, backpacks, etc. I recalled from my youth my parents encouraging my sister and me to participate in food and clothing drives for the less fortunate, so, knowing those were ever with us, there were kids on whom I regularly checked to ensure they had enough to eat, a warm coat, a pair of shoes, and a decent set of clothing to wear.

My parents were proud of me.

*

I tried to calm my roiling mind as I turned into their neighborhood and onto the quiet street on which their house stood, and pulled into the driveway.

I turned the car off and sat there a few minutes, afraid to get out and go in. Finally, knowing I didn’t have a choice, I creaked open the door and heaved myself from the seat. I glanced into the back but decided not to go to the door with Zoni in my arms. I steadied myself and forced my feet to carry me up the porch steps.

I rang the doorbell and waited, praying that either my mom or my dad would open it. I waited for what felt like an eternity before giving up and using the key they’d told me to keep when I moved out.

My mother was in the kitchen. She lay on the tiled floor next to the refrigerator and was in the same condition as Zoni. I stared down at what was left of the woman who’d given birth to me and loved me all my life, my heart a lead ball in my chest.

Deep down within, I’d known what I would find, but the blow wasn’t any less.

I don’t know how long I stood there before helpless rage speared through me shattering my iced-over mind. What was this… this… thing that was taking the people I loved from me? I turned from my mother, and looking wildly around the kitchen, I spotted a mug on the small table where my parents usually had their coffee in the mornings. It was one of a set I’d given them a couple of Christmases ago. They’d loved and used them ever since. Mom said they were the perfect size. But, where was the other one, the one my dad used? And where was he?

I ripped through the still house searching, afraid to call out.

Maybe this thing hadn’t touched him; maybe he’d turned in late and was still asleep. He did that sometimes when he didn’t have to work the next day, sleeping until Mom nagged him awake. Or maybe he was somewhere in the house and in shock at what happened to Mom. Maybe he was still alive. When I didn’t find him in the house I rushed back through the kitchen and flinging open the back door, I ran outside. Maybe he’d gone to a neighbor’s—

He was lying at the far end of the deck in that now horribly familiar condition. His coffee mug lay smashed beside him as if he’d stepped out, mug in hand, and gone over to look at something, perhaps to see how far the fog extended.

I froze for a moment, my heart quivering as my hope of finding him alive died. Then I plodded around to the driveway, opened the back door of my car, and gently lifted Zoni out. I carried her into the house and, avoiding the blood, laid her on the kitchen floor because after the fog dissipated, it turned into a typically hot, Southern, late June day.

With burning eyes, I began the task of enshrouding my parents. I found bed linens but it was not as easy as it was with Zoni. I had to place them in piece by piece.

I attended my mom first, and then my dad. My dad… I try not to remember but even now, years later, I can still smell the stench and hear the buzzing of the flies and the sticky, ripping noises as I pulled the pieces of my father from the bloody wooden deck and placed them into the shroud.

I got him wrapped and tied, and dragged him into the kitchen where I put him next to my mom.

My head ached and my stomach was churning by the time I finished. My body was shaking while my mind was trying to rebel, but I tried to reach someone who could tell me something. Anything. My cellphone was still out but the phone in the kitchen had dial tone so I used it to call 911. Again, it was useless. That time I didn’t even get the recorded message. The image display only showed a picture of the police department while the words “Please wait” continuously scrolled down the screen. It was frustrating but not unanticipated. There were far too many issues in the city needing attention.

On the way to my parents’ neighborhood, I’d passed a number of people whose reaction to this… thing… was to go on a rampage. They were howling and running, busting out windows, throwing things at cars, and in general making a terrible disaster even worse. I supposed they hadn’t gotten the message to stay in their homes. I didn’t stop the car but I saw dead bodies – some of which appeared to be in the same condition as Zoni but others seemed to be whole.

There were vehicles sitting wrecked in the streets around which I had to weave. I saw smoke in several places in the distance and heard gunfire, and that made me wonder if there had been an attack. That, as I found out later, was not the case. The smoke was from fires set either accidentally or by someone whose reaction to the calamity was to destroy. So was the gunfire. Not everyone who died that day did so by the direct effects of whatever happened that morning.

I didn’t consider myself lucky to have made it to my parents’ house unscathed, but I suppose I was. Lucky but not fortunate.

I didn’t know what to do and had no idea of whom else to try to reach at the police department, so I called a couple of funeral homes and got no one who could come to the house to collect my parents and Zoni, or tell me what I should do. I sat in silence for a long moment, thinking, and unable to come up with a different solution, I went to my dad’s toolshed and found the garden spade and his old work gloves. It was late afternoon by then, and it was hot, but I went out back and began to dig.

The sun’s scorching rays slowly sank below the horizon, and the day gradually dwindled away to night. I turned on the outside lights and kept shoveling, pausing only to get water. I turned the soft earth, focusing on getting the three openings wide and deep enough. When I reached harder, red clay soil, I went back into the toolshed and locating the mattock, I continued to dig.

It was a grueling – and perhaps foolish – thing to do but with my body and soul infused with fury and grief, there was nothing else around on which to expend it. Something… some unseen atrocity… took the people I loved away from me, and I couldn’t touch whatever it was. So I dug.

Dawn saw me continuing my self-imposed task, and as the sun trekked its way into morning and on toward the noon hour in a bright, cloudless sky, I was finally satisfied with my work. The graves were only about four feet deep and three feet wide, but I managed to get them nearly perfectly squared.

With the day heating up, one by one I carried out the people who raised, loved and took care of me.

Then I retrieved the remains of the loving, beautiful woman with whom I was going have children and spend the rest of my life.

As gently as possible, I laid them into the graves I made for them in my mother’s vegetable garden in the back yard.

I stared down at them, my rage driven energy at last draining away. I tried to say a prayer but I had no words, only hot, silent tears that were at last working their way from somewhere within and washing down my face.

I picked up the shovel and covered them over, then I staggered into the house.

Chapter Five

I STOOD IN THE SHOWER FOR A LONG TIME washing blood, sweat, dirt, and my old life down the drain.

Then, I found my mom’s soothing antibacterial cream and slathered it on hands that blistered in spite of the gloves. I sat on the neatly made bed of my old room and glanced at the clock on my otherwise useless cellphone. One p.m. I was exhausted and needed rest but in spite of that, I was jittery. That wasn’t conducive to sleep no matter how tired I was, so I hunted in the pantry where my mom kept her vitamins and supplements and found her melatonin sleep aids. I stared blurrily at the bottle label: take two .5-milligram tablets at bedtime. I shook out six and downed them then I crawled into bed.

On top of my general exhaustion, six may have been a little much because I didn’t awaken until early the next morning. But, I didn’t care. I dragged into the bathroom and emptied my bladder. Then, feeling the rough two-day stubble on my chin, I reached to pull the cabinet open to search for a razor and caught sight of myself in the mirror. I stared. My eyes were bloodshot and baggy. The dark brown of my irises looked washed out and filmy. That was no more than expected, but what I hadn’t bargained for was my close-cropped, normally off-black hair being dotted with gray.

I’d never believed those old tales of folk going gray overnight but there it was.

I stared for a moment longer, noting that my non-descript medium-brown face sported newly acquired fine lines that spread from my eyes and mouth, walked across my forehead, and down the sides of my face. I looked a lot older than my twenty-five years, almost as old as my fifty-four years old father.

I shrugged and went on with my shave. Life as I’d known it was over. My bride, with whom I should’ve been taking vows in twenty-eight hours or so, lay buried in the back yard. The parents who would’ve been celebrating with us surrounded by family and friends, lay beside her. I didn’t much care how I looked.

After throwing my clothes, sneakers and all, into the washer, I pulled on an old pajama bottom of mine I’d found in a drawer, while I waited for my wash to finish. My dad and I wore about the same sizes though I’m two inches taller than his six-foot frame, but I couldn’t bear to put on anything of his.

I went about cleaning the kitchen, and scrubbing and hosing down the deck all of which I had to do manually since none of my mom’s cleaning ‘bots worked. It was hard to keep my mind away from exactly what I was cleaning up, but I managed to get through it.

Then I spent some time trying to reach my sister Missy and her husband Jon, who’d gone to Jamaica on vacation but should have gotten back… two days before… to attend my wedding. I never got an answer. I began to try phone numbers: members of my extended family and friends, and Zoni’s parents, but got nowhere with those either. Cellphone reception was sporadic so I tried calling landlines – the ones for which I had the numbers – and reached answering messages on a couple, but mainly I got busy signals or that fast-busy that kicks in when all the circuits are tied up. I attempted 911 again but didn’t get anyone.

I turned on the television. It flashed a couple of times but never came on so after my clothes dried, I got dressed and went outside. I knocked on some of the neighbors’ doors. It didn’t take long to discover there was no one left on the street – or no one alive, anyway. I went back to the house and in switching on the small, antique radio my dad kept in the kitchen, I found it worked. I listened intently but the few news reporters and DJs were as much in the dark as I was, and, they kept playing that music put on when a disaster strikes – funeral music I call it – so I turned it off.

I went out and cleaned my car then I spent the rest of the day and the morning of the next day sticking near the phone in hopes someone would call. No one did, so on what would’ve been Zoni’s and my wedding day, I shut the house up and went back to my apartment.

I was relieved that someone had removed all the bodies from the parking lot and taken away the remains of Dave but whoever performed that duty didn’t do any cleaning. The lobby reeked. So did my apartment when I stepped in. The first thing I did was to take the bed mattress down and toss it into the dumpster out back. I wasn’t ever going to sleep in that bed again or even in the bedroom. The couch would be good enough.

Then I rounded up a bucket, detergent, and bleach, and scoured the apartment clean before going down and tackling the lobby. The same as at my parents’ house, the cleaning ‘bots wouldn’t activate, so I found the ancient manual machines kept in the downstairs maintenance closet and vacuumed and scrubbed. I washed down the lobby couch and set it out on the porch to dry but there was still a smell in the air and all of the stains weren’t coming out of the old carpet. I pulled out the big carpet cleaner, loaded it up with sudsy bleach and took about all the color out trying to get rid of the stench, however, the odors lingered.

There were six other tenants in my building but I had not seen anyone and the next day, it occurred to me there might be a reason why the smell didn’t go away. I thought it best if I didn’t go banging on doors. Instead, I checked, and Dave’s apartment door was unlocked so I used his landline to call the police department, and after finally reaching someone, I advised them there might be dead bodies in the building. They advised me that they were shorthanded, that there were dead bodies everywhere, and they would send someone as soon as they could.

The next morning one lone, haggard cop showed up. He asked me to go with him as he knocked on all the doors. Other than Dave’s, only one was unlocked and he hastily closed it after swinging it open. Shaking his head, he went back to his car and radioed it in. That afternoon a couple of guys in hazmat suits arrived. I watched as, one by one, they carried the rest of my neighbors out in body bags. I was the only survivor from the building.

On the fourth day, I could no longer bear being in the place, so I loaded everything I could get into my car and left. I slept in the car for a week surrounded by my things because I was afraid to go to any of my friends or relatives homes. I didn’t know what I would find and I couldn’t take anymore right then.

I was bothered only once. Parked and asleep in a shopping center lot one night, a noise snapped me awake. I didn’t say anything to the man scratching at my car door. His eyes widened as he realized I was awake and had my gun pointed at his head. Rage surged in me and I almost pulled the trigger. He looked into my eyes and I don’t know what he saw and maybe it was simply seeing the gun aimed at him, but a look of terror crossed his face and he backed away and left running.

The next day, I drove aimlessly through the city listening to the car radio, which was the only thing I could do since the TV in the dashboard didn’t work. Even if it had, it would’ve been dangerous to watch since autodrive was no longer in operation and I needed to keep my eyes on the road. I spotted a “For Rent” sign hanging crookedly in the window of a building ahead on the right. I pulled over and stopped. I couldn’t keep sleeping in my car. It wasn’t safe. After what happened the night before, I knew it was time I found another place to stay.

It was an old mixed usage building with a smoke shop downstairs and two flats upstairs. One was empty. The owner of the shop, Lowell Hampton, lived in the occupied one and was happy to show me the other. It was two rooms that weren’t much bigger than closets but I took it anyway.

Thus began my new life.

Chapter Six

IT WAS BEFORE I FLED MY APARTMENT AND while listening to my dad’s radio I’d brought from the house, that along with everyone else, I learned that the shit to which everything went didn’t take just the city of Charlotte with it. No, it encompassed the entire world. Everywhere had meandered down the thoroughfare to Hell. I didn’t learn much more than that the week I spent wandering around because annoyingly, the car radio kept cutting in and out and I finally turned it off. I didn’t know if it was because the signal was flaky or if something was wrong with the radio. I’d never tried to listen to it before, as I’d always only used the TV, so I kind of suspected the latter since it was an old car I bought used right out of college.

After I moved to my new place, the first thing I did was plug the radio in and continue to monitor the news. The accounts coming in were dismal: riots, rampages, shootings, looting… I wondered what they were looting. Guns, I supposed, and perhaps they were taking radios since the radio stations – the ones with enough personnel left for broadcasting – came in clearly, and though it was still plentiful, maybe they were stealing food or clothing in anticipation of supplies running low.

One of the reports cleared it up for me: sure, food, and in some cases, clothing, along with gaming devices, but looters were also going for TVs, cellphones, and computers. I could kind of see taking gaming devices since they could be operated manually though connecting to distant players was no longer possible, but there’d been no television since the brief telecast the first day, and cellphones had finally given up for good. I’d not been able to pick up a wireless signal on my laptop anywhere, so the countrywide ‘net wasn’t working either. I thought it was pointless to steal those particular items, but I suppose the thinking was that it would all eventually come back.

The day after renting the new place, I went back to the old apartment to get the things I’d left behind because I couldn’t get them into the car. My eighteen-year-old cousin, Will, was sitting on the steps of the porch.

He jumped up when I pulled into the parking lot and rushed to the car as I got out. The darkness that had wrapped itself around my soul lessened a little. Here was somebody, a part of my family, who was alive. I was glad to see him.

“Tenn?” He stopped and stared at me, his hazel eyes narrowing. “For a minute I thought you were your dad. You okay? Thank God you’re still alive! I was afraid everyone was gone. Hey, where’s Zoni?”

My mind paused. “Dead.” No point in trying to pretty it up.

He stopped, his eyes going big. “Oh. I’m sorry. I’d hoped… what about Uncle James and Aunt Katherine? I went by their house but no one came to the door…”

My stomach muscles clenched. “They didn’t make it, either, Will.”

“Oh my God! Both of them?”

I nodded. I couldn’t talk about it, or tell him I’d buried them in the back yard. Not without trembling. I think he saw I wasn’t ready to discuss it because he grew quiet and didn’t ask any questions. I started walking toward the porch.

I asked, “What about Aunt Lily and Uncle Charles?” They went to Jamaica to visit relatives right after Will’s graduation.

He shook his head. He reached up and pulled his long dreadlocks back, and tied them into a knot at the nape of his neck as he walked with me. “I don’t know. They were supposed to fly back for your and Zoni’s— um, they were scheduled on a flight the day of… on the 27th, but they never got here and I haven’t been able to reach them.” He shook his head. “God I wish I would’ve gone with them! They wanted me to but I wanted to keep working so I could save more money for school in the fall – you know, to have some extra cash.”

I knew what he meant. I did the same thing the summer after I graduated from high school.

He gave a frustrated sigh. “Cellphones aren’t working worth a damn. I used the phone at the house but that didn’t do any good either. I guess cellular is out all over. You heard what happened to all the planes on that… that… day, right?”

I lowered myself onto the steps, and he plopped down beside me and leaned back on his elbows.

I nodded. “It was on the radio. Everything airborne that morning when… it happened… fell from the sky and now no airplanes can get off the ground.”

We sat in silence for a minute, then Will said, “Mom and Dad said they were taking a ten a.m. flight and that would’ve been after the… afterwards. Weren’t Missy and Jon coming back later that day, too?”

“Yes. They tried to get their flight changed so they could fly back with your mom and dad but it was filled so their plane was supposed to leave that evening.”

“You haven’t heard from them, yet?”

“No.”

“Then that means they’re all still stuck in Jamaica.”

I hoped so. Neither of us wanted to discuss the alternative.

He slumped down. “Well where’ve you been? I’ve been coming by here for days looking for you.”

I leaned forward and draped my arms over my knees. My head was beginning to throb and I kneaded my temples. Being there at the old place was getting harder by the minute. I stood.

“I’ve moved. I came back today to pick up some belongings. Look, let me get the rest of my things. It’s not much and won’t take long. You can follow me over to my new place, okay?”

He nodded and we went upstairs. The place was still intact. I suppose I was lucky nobody had broken in and taken everything of value considering the state of society at the moment. In fact, none of the buildings on the street seemed to have been bothered. It was sort of a run-down neighborhood so it was my guess that looters bypassed it for locations that were more profitable. Besides, there were a lot fewer people around.

Prior to vacating, I took all of Zoni’s belongings to the Goodwill so there wasn’t anything left of hers in the place and as I’d told Will, I didn’t have much to get. All the furniture except the bed came with the apartment, and I wasn’t taking the bed with me.

I gathered the things I wanted. I got my little table/desk and folded it up to take down to my car, and gathered the rest of my clothes and my books. Will helped me carry down everything. I also took the TV. Maybe television would start working again. Will hauled it out to put in his car. As I went past the little refrigerator, I stopped. Zoni’s note was still there under the Bigfoot magnet next to the little brown elf. I hesitated then took them down and stuck them in my pocket.

“What will you do with Zoni’s car?” asked Will when we got down to the parking lot.

I glanced at her five years old little electric Chevy Mia that had been sitting there since the 27th. I didn’t have the heart to deal with it just then.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll take care of it later.”

He nodded and trailed me back to my apartment.

Chapter Seven

THE FIRST WEEK IN THE NEW PLACE, WITH NOT much else to do, I continued to listen to a lot of radio.

For lack of anything better, people called what happened by that inadequate term the TV reporter used on the first day: the Event. That is, the folk on the radio did. The average person didn’t much care to talk about it, and only used the term in passing. We generally sort of skated around it.

Information on a cause was basically nonexistent. Our overwhelmed government hadn’t figured out what it was; only what it wasn’t. They released a statement that said they determined it wasn’t an attack by some rogue country or some terrorist group with a new weapon that got out of control but they assured us that the phenomenon was under study. What that meant was either they were lying, or they were as clueless as everyone else was. Thinking back on that morning, in my opinion they weren’t lying. I could’ve been wrong but I didn’t believe anybody on Earth had the technology to cause something like that.

One of the radio stations began broadcasting a talk show that invited groups of people to present their ideas on the subject. I listened to it because I guess I was hoping somebody would come up with something that made sense but I should’ve known better. Conspiracy theories flew around like a swarm of mosquitos.

One that might have offered a little plausibility was that of a scientific experiment going wrong. Unfortunately, the guy couldn’t say what kind of experiment it might’ve been or exactly where it might’ve taken place. He had no real answers so he came across – at least to me – as being full of shit.

Then there were the outrageously stupid ideas that folk pretending to know what they were talking about tried to shove on people.

At that time, there were no statistics on how much of a reduction in the world’s approximately ten billion strong population there was though it didn’t take much to see that it was drastic. Because of this, someone came up with the notion that there was collusion between the world’s super powers to lower the numbers of our overpopulated planet. Of course, that theory made no sense because the Event hadn’t discriminated.

Sure, certain areas of the world did have an overabundance of people but those weren’t the only folk gone. The Event took people in all walks of life everywhere: the rich, the poor, criminals, cops, teachers and preachers, soccer moms, working dads, kids, and babies. Even pet cats and dogs, zoo animals, and from reports, wild ones, too, were gone – and some of those same world leaders were among the dead. What had they used and why wouldn’t they have crawled into a hidey-hole somewhere in order to escape the fate they’d set loose on the rest of the world?

The man who put forth that theory hadn’t been able to answer those pertinent questions asked by the radio host except with some bullshit about how he was still doing research.

There was the group who declared that alien invaders brought it all about and the government covered it up. The host pointed out that no spaceships full of aliens showed up following the Event, and how or why would anybody cover it up? The answer from the group’s spokesperson amounted to “We don’t know but we’re sure that’s what happened and we’re going to prove it”.

Right.

On another day, some guy hopped in and said it was due to the magnetic fields of the Earth having undergone a sudden reversal.

Will, who was listening to that particular broadcast with me, shook his head at that one, and said, “We learned in science last year that the magnetic fields wouldn’t just haul off and flip all of a sudden. It’s a slow process. Heck, it’s happened before, several times, and the poles didn’t simply suddenly flip then, either. It’s a process that builds up over a number of years, probably thousands. While it was taking its time flipping, our magnetic shield would weaken so the earth would get more cosmic rays.

“The teacher said it might affect the ozone and that would cause a rise in cancers in people, and the rays would be hell on our satellites and electronics and stuff. It could get bad but it wouldn’t cause a problem like this. I’ll bet the dummy hasn’t even thought to check a simple compass to see which way it points. He’s gonna have to come up with something else.”

I had to agree with him and we both chuckled because apparently, the man hadn’t looked at a compass. When the talk show host called for someone to round up one and showed the guy that it indicated north still pointed towards the Arctic Ocean and south towards Antarctica, he shut up.

Another theory was that it was due to a sudden climate change. This one seemed centered on the so-called fog that appeared that morning. In fact, no one knew what the substance was that rolled down and spread around the entire world in a matter minutes. Having gone out in it, I knew it hadn’t looked or felt like a regular fog. I didn’t see it lift but others had and they reported that it didn’t really dissipate. It was there one moment and then it was gone. There was nothing gradual about it. Apparently, it appeared the same way.

Everyone agreed that the Event caused the encompassing haze and not the other way around. The weather-change theory was plainly absurd because the one thing everybody knew was that once the fog dissipated, the weather returned to normal. As established a while back, the climate was changing all right, but it wasn’t doing it any faster than before. The change had, in fact slowed in recent years due to international laws put into effect back in the twenties. Moreover, there was the fact that the particular theorist couldn’t say how a climate change would’ve caused what happened.

There were others but none of them held water.

One day, the talk show brought some real scientists on. They did a lot of speculating but only one theory caught my attention. It was one presented by a group of research and theoretical physicists. Because a number of people wound up in improbable or even impossible places, places they hadn’t been in beforehand, they conjectured there’d been some kind of temporal and spatial displacement. Unfortunately, there was no way to test the theory or even to determine what any of these people experienced since none of them lived through whatever caused the theoretical displacement. They’d all been in that same gut-wrenching condition.

The physicists talked about black holes, continuity fluxes, dimensional shifts, and time warps but none could say exactly what might’ve caused those phenomena. I was an English teacher and not a research scientist so though I’d heard some of the terms, I didn’t know what all of that meant. Then, I thought about the vague figures I’d glimpsed in the fog that morning, especially the one that passed me on the sidewalk, and I thought of Zoni, who’d impossibly gotten back to our apartment before I did. Maybe the theory had some merit.

One said that some of the laws of physics seemed to have changed because there was no reason otherwise why some technologies still worked but others didn’t, and that set off an argument between all of them. I turned the radio off. I didn’t care about that. I’d been listening to see if anyone would come up with a reasonable explanation for the Event. I felt they could argue about physics at some other time.

The day after that, the radio show brought in a couple of groups of religious people. A shock to no one, there were some who thought it was a punishment from God on a sinful world. They wanted everyone to join their particular “one true religion” or the world was forever damned.

I suppose they could’ve been right and God was pissed off at everyone, but He wasn’t saying. Halfway through their rant, I switched to a different station, one playing regular music and not the funeral kind.

Chapter Eight

WILL OPTED TO STAY WITH ME UNTIL WE heard from his parents. I got the feeling he didn’t want to be alone. He kept going back to his house to check the answering machine for messages but he always came back to my place with the same negative news – no word from them.

A couple of weeks later, we’d still not heard from them – or my sister.

“I want to try to make it to Jamaica, Tenn,” he said as he sprawled out on the tatty, seen-much-better-days brown sofa that came with the apartment. “This waiting is getting to me.”

From my seat at the equally as battered, laminate-topped table with two old tubular chairs, I looked up from the want-ad section of the paper I was perusing.

“How would you get there? Planes are still not flying.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. But they said on the radio some ships are back in service. They’re slower than… than before… but they’re running. You know my friend Tremaine? He said there’s one that goes to Jamaica. Most of his family’s there and he wants to go, too. We can drive to Miami to catch it. He’s got money and I’ve got some saved and that will be enough to get us there and pay for tickets.”

I thought it over. Tremaine was a couple of months younger than Will. His parents sent him to relatives in the states a couple of years ago to complete high school. He’d graduated with Will and was set to go to college with him in the fall.

The week before, Will went to check on him and found him staying with his one relative fortunate enough to have survived. I didn’t much like the thought of the two teens wandering down to Miami by themselves, especially considering how erratic things were. The federal government finally collected itself enough to get out the Guard. Their ranks were thinner so even with the drop in population it was slow going for them. They were making some headway but it was still dangerous out there.

It was not as bad locally but in some places, there was ongoing trouble, including from the religious group that wanted everyone to join their “one true religion”. Some of them went overboard and were making attempts to forcibly compel people into the fold. I didn’t think the movement would last long but they, along with other irrational folk, were causing a lot of instability. Most people were unwilling to join them, and expressed their displeasure by using equally as forcible means.

“I don’t know, Will. Things are still chaotic. There’s rioting in places. You should wait until the National Guard gets it under better control.”

He sat up and stared at the off-white, featureless wall for a few seconds before saying, “I’ve gotta go, Tenn. It’s killing me to sit here not knowing. I have to go see that Mom and Dad are okay. Every day, it’s something else. Cellphones don’t work, the internet is gone – except for DSL and you need a landline for that. There’s no TV… and the amusement park didn’t reopen so my job there is toast.”

He was right. The Event seemed to have screwed up a lot of crap and more than cellphones, internet, and TV were out of commission. Voice command and autodrive went out the first day. Trains didn’t work, though arbitrarily, cars, trucks, and buses did – as long as there was a backup ignition key and as long as you didn’t expect your flight capable car to fly. Owning a flight car was well above my means so that wasn’t a concern for me.

You also had to manually figure out where you were going since none of the directional programming or GPS worked. The satellites were still up there but they weren’t in operation, which, of course meant satellite phones didn’t work either. Neither did any of the ‘bots, though that also wasn’t a concern for me, either, since I’d been too broke to own any type of robot except the basic carpet sweeper, anyway.

Nobody knew why none of this worked. The physicists were scratching their heads and arguing about it.

At the moment my main worry was that when I went down to the school board to get my address changed, one of the people in the sparsely manned office informed me that the portion of my ten-month salary that I had opted to place in an account so I would have income during the summer, would not be forthcoming for a while. They didn’t know why only that there was some glitch in the system and all the teachers who’d taken the same option were in the same bind. They didn’t know when it would be corrected.

I checked with my credit union and the first scheduled amount wasn’t there. This was worrying. Since I had planned to be on my honeymoon instead of in the city, I hadn’t taken on any of the part-time work I usually did to supplement my summer pay, such as tutoring or working as a lifeguard at one of the public pools, and none of those jobs were available at the moment. That was one reason why I was looking at want-ads.

Most of the cash Zoni and I put away had already been paid out for the wedding and honeymoon that would never happen, and there was no way to get the money back. I had a little left in savings because in addition to setting aside funds for our wedding and honeymoon, we were also able to tuck away a little for a down payment on a condo. The royalties from my book went into that.

Of course, until the week before the world went slipping off into a deep pile, those royalties hadn’t been a lot and with things gone to hell, they would likely stop.

Then, the same day I got the news about my summer salary, local government announced they were delaying the opening of school. That was another reason I was looking at the want-ads. Maybe I would eventually get the money from my summer account, but I didn’t have it yet, and I was going to need a way to feed myself and keep my apartment until the schools reopened.

There were fewer people to look for jobs but there were also fewer employers so the jobs section was sparse and, so far, no luck.

I could see Will had made up his mind and was determined to go. In spite of my misgivings, I didn’t blame him. Had my parents been in Jamaica I would’ve been anxious to get there, too.

“When did you and Tremaine want to leave?”

“The weekend. I don’t see any reason for putting it off any longer.” He peered at me. “You wanna go with us?”

I studied him. I thought about my sister and her husband from whom I’d still not heard, and considered that perhaps I should go with them. But then I factored in that if I went, I would have to remain in Jamaica until I found work to earn enough to return because the money I had might get me there, but it wouldn’t last long and it wouldn’t be enough to get me back.

As much as I loved visiting Jamaica, it wasn’t my home. I was born here and I didn’t want to have to stay there, especially in these times. Will, on the other hand had fond memories of living on the island since he was born there and only came to the U.S. with his parents when he was ten. His ties there were stronger than mine and he likely wouldn’t mind having to stay there for a while.

There was another factor. A couple of days before, I contacted the police department and explained that I’d buried my parents and fiancée in the backyard of my parents’ home. From their reaction, it appeared my case wasn’t unique because they were sympathetic and understanding, and they assured me that I wasn’t in trouble for having done what I did.

They advised me that ordinarily they’d send someone around and it would be a matter for the medical examiner’s office but at the moment, they and everyone else were overwhelmed. I could either leave them buried where they were or if I wanted them moved, I could contact a funeral home and let them handle it.

I simply couldn’t leave Zoni and my parents buried in the back yard in four-foot graves, so I found a funeral home, and now had an appointment to go in the next week to arrange to get them dug up and put into coffins and reburied in a proper cemetery.

I knew it would take most of my small savings and perhaps it was foolish of me to use up much needed cash to get them moved, but it was a thing I had to do, though, if I’d known about Will’s plans, I might’ve waited. I wanted to find my sister but I needed to finish what I’d begun before I made any other plans.

Hoping I could get him to delay his trip, I said, “Lowell will let me use his phone, Will. I’ll see if I can reach the U.S. Embassy in Kingston. Maybe they can help locate them.” Lowell, my landlord and now my friend, had a landline and was good about sharing it with me.

He looked thoughtful then he nodded. “Since land lines still work then overseas lines probably do, too.” He shrugged. “Won’t hurt to check.”

We went down to the smoke shop and Lowell took us back up to his apartment where he kept his computer. He had a DSL connection and I looked up the embassy number and dialed it. But, either the lines were down or more likely they were getting many such calls, and I could never get through.

Sighing after I hung up from my latest try, I said, “If you will wait until the end of August, I’ll go with you but there’s something else I have to do first.” I needed to get a job as fast as possible and work at least a month so I’d have some extra cash.

But he was shaking his head. “I’m supposed to start my freshman year in college in the fall and if I don’t go now I may not make it back by then.”

“Let me try again tomorrow. Maybe I’ll have better luck.”

“You can try, Tenn, but I don’t think you’re going to reach anybody. Besides, even if you do there’s no guarantee they’ll be able to help us.”

I studied him. I suspected he’d go even if somebody there managed to locate his parents. Understandably, he wanted to be with them, and once he made up his mind to do something he wanted to get right to it. Will wasn’t the most patient of kids so I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d wanted to leave on the spot instead of waiting the two days until the weekend. But, did he really think the colleges would be starting on time?

“Schools won’t be starting right back up, Will. I believe we’d have time to go at the end of August and get back before—”

He sat up and frowned at me. “I think you’re wrong, Tenn. I know primary and secondary schools won’t open but I believe most colleges will, and I want to be back by then.”

He could’ve been right. Some universities had already announced a delay but not the one he would be attending. Still, maybe I could get him to wait until we found out.

“Tell you what, let’s check to see if your college will be opening on time. Then, if it’s not, you can—”

He shook his head cutting me off.

“No, Tenn. I need to go now. If it’s late with opening, that’ll just give me more time in Jamaica.”

I sighed. I didn’t have a good feeling about him going off like that, but he’d made up his mind and talking him out of it wasn’t going to happen. At least he wasn’t planning to make the trip alone.

“All right, but you need to get your car checked out first, and I’ll give you what I can to help. You and Tremaine have your passports? Okay, write down Lowell’s phone number and find a landline when you can so you can stay in contact.”

They left that Saturday morning.

Chapter Nine

THE NEXT DAY, WILL CALLED FROM SAVANNAH, Georgia.

“Shouldn’t you have gotten to Florida already? What are you doing in Savannah?” I asked.

“Car broke down right before we got to the city. Water pump went out, but we got a tow to a repair shop and the guy at the shop says he can fix it but it’s gonna take a couple of days because he doesn’t have the kind for my car so he’ll have to find one first.”

“I thought you got the car checked out before you left.”

“I did, and it was okay but sometimes problems don’t show up ‘til later. Look, I’m just letting you know we’re okay. I’ll call when we get to Miami.”

He called three days later, still in Georgia.

“We’re having to wait until the mechanic can locate the part. Stuff’s kinda hard to find now, but he said it shouldn’t be more than another day or two. We’ll be outta here tomorrow, Friday at the latest.”

“Where’ve you been staying? You need any cash?” I was getting more uneasy about the whole thing and was wishing I’d tried harder to get him not to go. There’d been news on the radio that morning about scattered riots in Florida and something about a bunch of crazies roaming around looting and beating people. Besides, I missed him.

“Nah, we’re good. The repair isn’t costing that much and the guy let us sleep in his shop, so we didn’t have to get a room. Thanks, Tenn, but we’re okay.”

I hesitated but then I said what I knew he didn’t want to hear.

“I think you should come back home, Will, and wait until I can go with you. I… I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Aw, come on, Tenn. We’re doing all right. You know we’ve gotta do this. I’ll call you back as soon as we’re ready to leave here.”

He called me on Friday evening.

“Car’s fixed now and the mechanic said it’s good to go to get us to Miami. Don’t worry, we’ll be okay.”

I sighed. “All right. Be careful out there, Will. If you call and can’t get me, I’ll probably be at work so leave a message with Lowell.”

“Hey, you got a job. Where?”

I didn’t want to tell him I was digging graves. Raised to respect any kind of honest work, it was not because I thought it was beneath me. No, I was afraid he might ask how I found the job and I didn’t want to tell him. I’d found it hard to talk about Zoni or my parents, so I never told him about how I buried them in the backyard.

Getting them dug up and moved was how I got the job. The Monday after he and Tremaine left, I kept my appointment with the funeral home, and even though there wouldn’t be a funeral, they took care of all the paperwork for me, and got the cemetery space.

One of the guys with the grave digging company the cemetery used, told me they didn’t have enough people to operate all their backhoes and I’d have to wait, but if I thought I could handle it, I could dig the new graves myself and save. They would dig them up and someone from the funeral home would deposit them in their coffins and transport them to the cemetery. All I’d have to pay for would be that and the grave liner. I agreed to do it.

I’d been prepared to use a shovel but was relieved when I learned I wouldn’t have to. They gave me a two-day crash course in the use of a backhoe and the day before, I’d gotten the job done and laid my folks and Zoni into their final resting places. I didn’t have enough for headstones but I planned on getting them as soon as I could.

The head of the grave digging company heard how well I handled the backhoe and how precisely I dug the graves, and asked to meet me. He said there was a huge demand for gravediggers and offered me a job. Having gotten no other offers, I took it. It would pay the rent, and for things like power and food, which were quickly getting damned expensive.

I lied to Will. “I’m doing deliveries. Pay is okay.” I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. When he got back would be soon enough for him to know.

“Great! Okay, I’ll call you when we get to Miami. Man! I sure wish I had your knack for getting people to like you right off. Heh, I know that’s how you got the job. Finding somebody who’ll let you use their phone is the pits! What we need now is all those phone booths the old folk say used to be everywhere.”

He had a point. Maybe the phone companies would eventually install some phone booths now that cellphone service was extinct though I doubted it. And he was right about folk tending to take a liking to me. The funeral home director had, and so did the man at the grave digging company who offered me the job. It was a family joke that I would never go hungry because somebody would always want to feed me.

He hung up and it was a week before I heard from him again. He probably didn’t call any sooner because he was afraid I’d nag him again to come home. Admittedly, my unease about him leaving had grown but I knew he wasn’t going to listen, so I didn’t waste my breath.

“We’re in Miami and we’re booked on a ship to Jamaica. It was hard getting tickets but we finally scored. We’ll be in Jamaica in a week. Boy, things are kinda messed up here. The National Guard is all over the place looking for a gang or something. We’re on our way to get something to eat. I’ll try to call you back before we sail but don’t get upset if you don’t hear from me. Finding a phone to use here is worse than it was in Georgia. If there’s no way to reach you from the ship, I’ll call you when we get to Jamaica.”

He didn’t call back. I could only hope he’d gotten aboard the ship and there was no way to make a call from there. But two weeks later when there still was no word from him, my boss allowed me to take a leave from digging graves, and I went looking for him.

He never made it to Jamaica.

I found him in a morgue in Miami. I looked down at my young cousin lying on that slab and I would’ve cried but I had no tears. He turned eighteen in April and had just graduated from high school. He was to have begun his college freshman year in the fall.

That crazed rage that hit me on the first day of the Event, rose in my chest again. If it hadn’t been for that… thing… he’d still be alive. I found that I was angry with him for leaving, but, most of all, I was angry with myself for not trying harder to get him to stay, or to have at least gone with him.

I trembled as I fought to control my fury. It would only serve to get me into trouble if I didn’t and I needed to know what happened to him. I also needed to find Tremaine.

The morgue gave me Will’s belongings, which included his identification, his car keys, and the money belt he’d been wearing which, surprisingly, still contained cash: five thousand dollars. I was astonished at the amount as I hadn’t known he had that much.

I got the story from the police. He was waiting to board the ship when one of those gangs for which the Guard was searching managed to slip past them. These were people that fell over the edge and stayed there and they used violence as a means of expression. They didn’t simply beat folk, either. They graduated from clubs and bats to assault rifles.

Will and Tremaine weren’t the only casualties from that day. The morgue was full of victims of that bunch. They mowed down a whole line of people waiting to board the ship. The Guard made sure that particular group wouldn’t be killing anybody else but it wouldn’t help my cousin.

Tremaine wasn’t in that morgue so I checked the others and his name wasn’t coming up anywhere. No one had a record of him but I kept looking. I checked every John Doe I could find at the morgues and when that didn’t pan out, I checked the hospitals.

It took two weeks but I found him in a hospital in West Miami. The reason it took so long to find him was that his passport was missing – the police said probably stolen – and he had no driver’s license so he didn’t have any identification on him and was in a coma when brought in. He came out of it after a week but was unable to remember his name or much of anything else.

The hospital authorities would only let me view him through the glass at first, but allowed me to go in after I lied and said he was my brother. They sent for a doctor who explained his condition. He said Tremaine took a shot in his left shoulder but the gunshot wasn’t the reason he was in a coma. That was because he’d received a hard blow to the back of his skull causing a critical concussion. He thought the boy would get back his memory and seeing me might help jog it.

The doctor was right. It took a couple of days but he began to remember. He was still in serious condition but he would live. Within three days, he remembered everything except the actual moment of the shooting. The only thing he did remember was hearing a couple of pops and Will yelling something and then diving at him slamming him to the pavement. Everything went black after that.

That explained the concussion and hearing that pointed out to me that Will likely saved his friend’s life, but at the cost of his own.

He cried when I told him Will was dead but I wasn’t surprised that he still wanted to get to Jamaica as soon as he could leave the hospital and replace his ID.

That’s when I learned why Will had so much money on him. Tremaine didn’t have a money belt and Will was carrying it all for the both of them. Tremaine remembered where they’d stored Will’s car and I gave him the money belt and the three thousand dollars he said was his, and left after promising him I’d return.

I found Will’s car and sold it to a man trying to get to California who paid me a good price. Then I rented a cheap motel room and stayed until Tremaine’s release from the hospital at the end of another week. I knew it was pointless to try to get him to give up trying to get to Jamaica, so, since the hospital required a partial payment for his treatment, which took half his cash, I gave him some of the money from the sale of the car to get a new passport. Then, I set him up in the cheap room I’d rented, wished him well, and left.

There was no way to ship Will’s body back for burial, so I had him cremated. I took his ashes and went home. I was still angry with myself for not going with them though Lowell pointed out that I likely would’ve wound up in that morgue or hospital, too. True, but it didn’t make me feel any better to know that.

After I got back from Miami, I began trying again to reach the embassy in Kingston, and after a week I finally managed to get through. They couldn’t help, but transferred me to the American Citizens Services and a woman there said the place was in turmoil but she’d do the best she could to help me. I told her I was trying to find my Aunt and Uncle who had a ten a.m. flight out of Kingston on the day of the Event, and my sister and her husband with a flight scheduled for that evening. She said the airport was in the process of temporarily shutting down but promised to check with them and call me back when she could.

I wondered about that “temporarily”, if they thought the planes would be able to fly again, but I didn’t ask, and maybe they would.

She called back two days later. I could tell from her tone, before she even told me, that it was bad news. Missy and Jon caught an earlier flight, one that took off at five forty-five that morning and were in the air when the Event struck. She hadn’t been able to learn if Will’s parents were on the same flight but it made sense to me that they would’ve been. They’d been trying to get a flight together and likely found the earlier one had seats enough for them all.

The woman asked for my address and said she’d send some kind of affidavit. I didn’t think I needed it but I gave her the address, thanked her and hung up.

I didn’t try to find any more relatives.

Tremaine called me a couple of weeks later, and said he had his passport and ticket and would call when he got to Jamaica. He promised to look for Will’s parents, and my sister and her husband. I told him there was no need to do that and explained why. He offered his condolences before hanging up. Either conditions there were as bad as in the states or they were worse because I didn’t hear from him again.

In spite of assurances from the government that things would soon get better they didn’t.

I never believed they would.

Chapter Ten

LIKE MOST FOLK, I TRIED TO GET ON WITH living the reality of our changed world, which entailed dealing with the ongoing effects of the Event, the main one being fear it would happen again. Also, the riots and looting, and people attacking for no reason had to be avoided.

It was the end of September by the time I got back from finding Will, and I was sure it wouldn’t be long before I’d be returning to the classroom, perhaps after Thanksgiving and surely by January. Because of the upheaval, I knew it wouldn’t be soon, but once the riots were controlled, the schools would reopen and the kids would return. I knew children were lost in the Event, too, but people who still had them would want to send them to school. While I wasn’t looking forward to some of the young faces being missing, I was looking forward to getting back in the classroom.

While I was away looking for Will, the funeral home contacted Lowell and sent three death certificates. I stared at them for a long time. I felt I didn’t need them. I knew they were dead. Lowell said I should keep them just in case. That turned out to be good advice. It was also Lowell who suggested I check on my parents’ estate as I don’t think I would ever have thought to.

My parents had never been wealthy and they put both my sister and me through college and couldn’t do much saving until after I graduated, so I knew they didn’t have a lot. They’d been depending on their pensions and social security for retirement. The only thing they had of value was their house and an IRA account.

They started it about five years ago but had only been able to put any appreciable amount in since I graduated from college. It was what my father had called their dream trip money. They were going to visit Africa after they retired, and Missy and I had planned to help them out with that.

It turned out I was entitled to the little they had since Missy was also gone. As promised, the woman at the American Citizens Services in Jamaica sent the affidavit certifying Jonathan and Mississippi Adderman were aboard an airplane that crashed the morning of the Event, proof enough for acquiring a death certificate, which I needed in order to handle their estate.

When I got them, I stared at them for a while remembering my sister and brother-in-law. She and Jon married the year before and were planning to buy a house next year since they were finally in a position to start a family.

I didn’t want to think of might-have-beens so I busied myself with shutting down their apartment/studio, and their bank accounts. The studio contained Missy’s paintings and some of Jon’s since he was also an artist. I kept a few of Missy’s paintings including the one she did of Zoni, the rest I packed away and left at my parents’ house. Jon was from Virginia and both his parents died when he was young. I located the number and address for the grandmother who raised him and discovered she survived the Event.

I sent her Jon’s belongings and paintings – except the one he did of Missy. I found myself unable to part with that one. I also sent her the proceeds from Jon and Missy’s bank account, a no-brainer since she was an old lady on social security with no other means of support. Jon had been sending her money. The money in their accounts wouldn’t make her rich but did contain what they’d saved for the down payment on their house. She elicited my promise to come see her as soon as I could, a promise I’ve since kept.

I received the ten thousand dollars in my parents’ IRA, and the house plus their five-year old city cars. I sold the cars and there was no way I could live in the house, but nobody much was dealing in real estate at the time, so I sold everything from the house that I could and left the rest. I boarded it up though that probably wasn’t necessary. Their neighborhood was one in which no one had survived, and folk were not inclined to go there. I also sold Zoni’s car.

I didn’t go back to my grave-digging job. Instead, I lived on the proceeds from my parents’ IRA and the cash I got from selling the cars and other items, while I waited to get back to teaching. At least I’d have my students, and that would be a way to help me cope with my shattered life.

I was wrong. The schools didn’t resume at all that year. What was left of the local government informed us at the end of January, that there was no way to operate the schools. Due to the ongoing crisis, there were personnel and other shortages. There was also the excuse that they had yet to get an adequate count of kids, but what it boiled down to was both federal and state governments suspended funding for public education. It also meant that those of us who had never gotten our summer pay weren’t likely to ever get it.

They assured us this was only temporary, but it was a heavy blow. I’d naively believed that no matter what, the education of the young would restart as soon as possible. It wasn’t just local, either. No public schools opened anywhere. A few private ones did but those already had the teachers they needed, so they weren’t hiring.

Parents tried teaching their kids themselves but most weren’t prepared for it, and resources to help them with homeschooling were non-existent. The ones who could afford it hired tutors. At first, I tried to get a job tutoring but with teachers out of work all over – including college professors because the state universities also shut down – no one who could afford a tutor for their children wanted a third-year middle-school English teacher.

I tried to hire on at one of the facilities where the government sent the bulk of the children who’d lost their parents, but they weren’t interested in hiring a third-year teacher, either, so I began tutoring kids for folk who couldn’t afford to pay.

By April, I had to find ways to bring in income because even though things were sliding through the putrid intestinal tract of the universe, eating was still necessary and my finances started going in the ditch as my money began to run out. I couldn’t depend on anything from the sale of my book; sales ceased almost immediately after the Event. No sales, no royalties. Besides, by January the little company that published it became a casualty of the rapidly downturning economy and the book quickly went out of print. So, with reluctance, I gave up the gratis tutoring and returned to digging graves.

I did that until the end of June – around the first anniversary of the Event – then, when I couldn’t abide doing it any longer, I took a job that consisted of helping clear the rubble of abandoned building that were being demolished. Sometimes we found previously missed human remains. These we took to a crematorium. Fortunately, as time went on, this happened less often.

When there was no demolition rubble to be cleared, I swept streets and removed fallen branches from roadways and sidewalks after storms. I figured I could stand it until the schools finally reopened even though the work was uneven and the pay wasn’t good. It was a job.

I took up writing again which I did in my down time. My laptop still worked and even though I couldn’t afford a landline or the DSL internet connection, I didn’t need those to write.

Yes, I knew my being able to publish again carried only a miniscule probability, especially since my publishing company no longer existed. Still, I finished the sequel to my adventure novel even though I didn’t expect it to go anywhere, because I found it was something that helped me maintain a little equilibrium and kept me from going completely insane.

I finished the novel and continued to write. Usually I wrote little vignettes that involved the characters from my novels. Perhaps I would use them to begin another sequel. It was a thought. I also kept a journal in which I recorded my experiences since the Event. Writing about some things was painful, but it helped me cope.

I worked at the clean-up/street-sweeping job for months, picking up other odd jobs, such as washing dishes in a greasy spoon, to supplement the low wages. I ran up on a couple of ex-coworkers from school who’d survived the Event and were in the same predicament. We’d sometimes get together for a drink after work, to commiserate. Like me, they were working at what they could and waiting for the schools to reopen.

By then, smart people from several different countries had held a conference and released the estimate that approximately five billion worldwide – about half the world population – died. That was shocking but it explained why whole neighborhoods were empty. According to several accounts, the populations of some cities and towns were gone in their entirety. I suppose we were fortunate that enough people survived to more or less carry on.

I don’t know how accurate that was, but that was only on the day it happened. More people died in other ways that first year. Tens of thousands succumbed in one way or another before the National Guard controlled the riots and rampages, and the sickos who decided that the best way to handle the situation was to kill as many as they could. Like the ones who opened fire in Miami, killing my cousin along with a lot of others. And, the suicide rate was high. I could understand the suicides.

Once the governments of the world began to reorganize, for a while, a lot of finger pointing and blame went on until everyone gave it up for lack of evidence and because of the fact that no country was in great shape – or in any position to rule the world. Until that happened, I suppose those of us left were lucky there was one particular technology that no longer worked: ballistic missiles. Like airplanes, those were defunct. No one said it but everyone knew that if it hadn’t been for that there would have been a lot of those flying around after the Event. Or maybe not. Maybe I’d watched too many doomsday movies. Of course, the Event was a doomsday all by itself.

It got to be October, and the schools remained closed. The government kept promising but by January, with it having been a year and a half since the world went to shit, it became obvious that there would no longer be a need for middle-school English teachers at all because as time wore on, we realized the schools were never going to reopen. This was an indication that for the foreseeable future, public schooling was a thing of the past.

Some of my colleagues left for other regions, hoping to get work at a private school somewhere. For most, it didn’t happen, and for the majority of us, our careers as teachers were over.

Part Two: Tracking

Chapter Eleven

I OSCILLATED BETWEEN APATHY AND RAGE.

Most days I plodded home from one or the other of the jobs I worked, where I would sit dry-eyed and alone in my flat drinking too much and staring at the little brown elf magnet I’d kept, or at the paintings of Missy’s and Jon’s I hung on my walls. I went through the images on my laptop that I transferred from my cellphone of family and friends. People that no longer existed. I read that last note from Zoni countless times. I tried to write but the day I found myself repeatedly typing nothing but “Zoni” for an entire page, I put my laptop aside and didn’t try again.

In my quest to forget, or at least to not think, sometimes I’d go out and find a woman. I never brought one to my flat. We’d go to her place or I’d rent a room in a cheap motel. Sometimes they wanted pay. I didn’t mind. Everybody had to make a living. They were always surprised that I wasn’t as old as I looked.

There were times when I’d get drunk and take my gun and lurch through an abandoned section of the city taking potshots at lampposts, signs, vacant buildings, and old cars, or throw rocks and smash windows. This went on until one night, after one of those excursions, I awakened with a nearly empty bottle of cheap rum in one hand, spraddled out on the stairs that went up to the apartments. Lowell was standing over me shaking his head.

The only thing he said as he got me to my feet, was, “Come on boy. Let’s get you to your room.”

He helped me up the stairs and I staggered my way to the john. My bladder was so full it was a wonder I hadn’t pissed myself. My stomach churned and I became so queasy that when I leaned over the toilet it was a race between the urine and the vomit as to which would hit first. I have to say they hit the floor and the back of the wall at about the same time as I missed the commode on both counts.

When I stumbled my way back out, Lowell was in my bedroom sitting at my fold-up desk. He said something, which I didn’t catch because the room was spinning like an out of control drone. I flopped down on the bed, fell back, and whirled off into blackness.

And then I was waking up. Light streamed in through the tiny curtainless back window, and a little imp with a big hammer was inside my head in the process of demolishing my brain.

I rolled from the bed. I was in my underwear and I wondered when I’d taken off my shoes and gotten undressed but my head wasn’t allowing me to remember much, so I stumbled into the bathroom. Immediately, the odors of piss and puke whacked me in the nose. My stomach protested and I tasted bile but I managed to keep it down. I vaguely recalled having made the mess. I used the toilet and dragged myself back out where I spotted a small white bottle sitting on my desk. A note accompanied it: “Take a couple of these. It’s something for your head and stomach. Come down when you feel better.”

It floated into my rum-fried brain that I hadn’t been the one to undress myself, that it was Lowell who removed my shoes and clothing. I sloshed water into the chipped mug sitting on the side of the small sink in the corner of the front room – the space I called my kitchen – and downed three of the pills, then I slumped down in one of the two chairs at the tiny table near the sink. I stared at the wall for a while, until the ache in my head and the nausea in my belly began to ease up then I got the bucket I kept under the sink, and went to clean the bathroom.

After I got dressed, I went down to the smoke shop. Lowell was leaning on his counter with his pipe in his hand. There weren’t any customers but that wasn’t unusual for early Saturday morning. He straightened as I came in from the stairwell, and eyeballed me as he stuck the pipe into a pocket.

“You’re a mess, Tenn,” he said. “You’ve got to quit doing this. You’re too nice a guy.”

My sluggish brain couldn’t come up with anything to say about that.

“Well, you feel better now?” he asked.

I shrugged. My headache was gone but mostly I just felt numb. I lowered myself down at one of the tables he kept for customers who wanted to relax and smoke – or vape since he also sold nicotine and cannabis in liquid form.

He eyed me some more, then he said, “You’re killing yourself, Tenn. I know you’re upset about the school situation but this isn’t the way to handle it.” He sighed and came from behind the counter. He slid out a chair across from me and took a seat.

I looked at him with eyes that I knew were bloodshot and muddy. I’d never asked Lowell if he’d ever done anything other than run the smoke shop. He’d been doing it since well before the Event, and he was about the same age as my father. In fact, he reminded me a little of my father, even had a slight Jamaican accent. Though he was a shade darker, he had the same brown eyes and was about the same height though he was heavier. His head was nearly bald whereas my father had been in no danger of losing his thick salt-and-pepper hair.

I squelched the thoughts of my father because with it came the memory of the day I’d removed him from the deck. I decided that Lowell looked like Lowell.

He stared back at me and came out with a soft snort, and shook his head. “Look, I’m not going to lecture you, but I like you, Tenn, and I don’t like seeing you going down this path. Tell you what; I’ve got a friend that has a problem. I think you might be able to help him out and he’ll pay you for your time.”

I stared at him, frowning. “Uh, what kind of problem?” Shit. I had enough problems of my own. How could I help someone else?

“A problem with his son. Just go talk to him. He’ll tell you what he wants.” He handed me a card. “He owns a restaurant. He’s there this afternoon.”

I couldn’t imagine what kind of work a man who owned a restaurant would offer me that involved helping him with his son unless it was tutoring – something I didn’t think I was capable of right then – but I took the card. I figured I had nothing to lose so I went to see the man.

No tutoring. As it turned out, he’d heard about my success in finding my cousin and his friend Tremaine, likely from Lowell. He offered his sympathy for my having found him in a morgue but thought it was remarkable I’d been able to find him at all considering how chaotic everything was at the time. He was especially impressed with how I’d found Tremaine.

I supposed he was right though I’d never thought about it. Then he asked me if I thought I could find his runaway teenaged son. I thought about it for a minute, intrigued in spite of myself.

I made my decision.

“What will you pay me for something like that?”

“Well, what do you want?”

Having no idea what to charge, I told him the only thing I could think of at the moment.

“Give me two months’ rent,” and thinking about Will, I added, “and a promise not to kill the messenger if the news is bad.”

He looked intently at me, then said, “He is all I have left. His mother, brother, and sister died that morning.” I wasn’t surprised when tears crept down his cheeks. He swallowed and wiped at his eyes with a napkin, and then went on in a choked voice, “If you find him in a morgue, well, I won’t take it out on you, but I have to believe you’ll find him alive. When you do, please, tell him I love him and I just want him to come home.”

Five days later, I found his son in Maryland in reasonably good shape. The boy wrecked his car and wound up in the hospital with broken ribs and a punctured lung. He was also under arrest for driving without a license. He was scared to contact his father because he knew he’d be upset with him for taking his car and running off. Well, he was sixteen-years old. Critical thinking isn’t something kids that age have in abundance.

I convinced him that his father wasn’t going to kill him, sprung him from the hospital – and the police, something that was easier than I thought it would be but they had bigger troubles than the one he presented. I took the boy home to his grateful father.

I never figured out why Lowell sent me to see that man. Maybe he simply wanted to see if he could get me out of feeling sorry for myself, to think of something other than how miserable I was and therefore keep me from drinking myself to death or getting myself killed one night. I never asked him although that’s pretty much how, almost two years after the Event, I became a tracker.

The man at the restaurant told someone about my finding his son and word got around. Soon, I had folk offering to pay me to do a search for them. I didn’t especially love what I was doing to earn a living, so I told the bosses at my two jobs that I was leaving and they wished me well, even telling me I could come back if things didn’t work out for me. Nice guys.

I checked to see if I needed a license to track – I didn’t as long as I wasn’t a bounty hunter – and set up business in my flat, where I curtained off the kitchen end of the front room and used the rest as an office. I got a real desk, too. It was my father’s and was old and scratched, but it was sturdy and serviceable. A friend of Lowell’s with a pick-up truck went with me to the old house to get it. It was a pain getting it up the narrow stairs and into the apartment, but once in, I cleaned it up, sanded and re-stained it, and it looked good. It made the office look more professional. Small, but professional.

I decorated the windowless room with some of Missy’s painting. Not the one of Zoni, which I kept in my cramped bedroom, or the small ones of our parents but three others that were impressionistic. They were nice – one was a painting of an actual window looking out on a meadow that ran to a forest. I put a sign on the door that said simply, “Tennessee Murray, Tracker”. Lowell put a sign with a big arrow on it pointing up the stairs that led from the smoke shop to the flat that said, “Tracker Up”. Lowell was a bit of a comedian.

I learned tracking was a job that could be erratic but it paid better for my services than any of the other jobs I’d held, so it became my main line. It wasn’t easy a lot of the times and it kept me on the move but I found that being on the move kept my mind better occupied than street sweeping, dishwashing, or any of the other jobs I’d held. It gave me focus and I gradually learned to walk the edge between the apathy and the rage.

Chapter Twelve

WHEN I SAY I BECAME THE BEST TRACKER out there, it’s not a brag just a fact. Dead or alive I always found them. There were even a couple that involved abductions by a noncustodial parent and one involving a gang-related kidnapping. I got them back safely.

Finding someone could be hard, and at times, damned hard, and telling a client the worst when the object of my search wasn’t in good shape wasn’t easy. It always brought back the memory of my cousin Will. For those, I always offered to forfeit the rest of my fee.

Giving up money. A foolish thing to do I suppose, but I felt it was the least I could do. I don’t regret it. Fortunately, there weren’t many like that.

I learned early on, that as a tracker there were times when I’d have to fight. I’d never considered myself to be a fighter and as a middle-school teacher, fighting wasn’t anything I needed to do so I wasn’t that good at it. Having been on the track team in high school and college, I ran every day for exercise and was in reasonably good shape. I could move fast, but sometimes, running wasn’t possible.

Nothing brought that home to me more than what happened during my third tracking case where a client hired me to find his missing fifteen-year-old sister. I found her in Atlanta. Her so-called boyfriend whom she’d thought was twenty turned out be a thirty-year-old man. He also turned out to be a pimp. Of course, the brother didn’t know all that, I’d learned it after I began my search.

He had convinced the girl that he loved her and would take care of her. She, being fifteen and infatuated with him, and mad at her brother because he said she was too young to have a twenty-year old boyfriend and wouldn’t allow her to date him, ran off with the guy.

Teenagers. Especially teenaged girls in love.

I tracked them to Atlanta. I asked around and found he’d put her to work on the streets to make money for him. After learning the particular corner she worked, I spotted her and pulled up to the curb. She ran over to my car.

She was dressed in high-heels, tight jeans and a low-cut black top, and wearing a ton of eyeshadow and make-up slathered on her face. Her bow-shaped mouth sported bright red lipstick. Her long, dark brown hair flared around her shoulders. She was obviously trying to look older, but she looked like a twelve-year-old who’d gotten into her mother’s make-up.

“Fifty dollars, mister,” she said in a tremulous voice.

I looked at her and shook my head. She took it for a refusal. A frightened expression formed on her face and she shot a quick glance to her left where a guy was leaning against the side of a building about a half block away.

“Please, mister, if I don’t make some money tonight, I… I’ll get in trouble. C’mon, I’ll do whatever you want…”

Through all the crap she’d smeared on, a dark bruise showed on one cheek. I considered that she might be disillusioned with the boyfriend who’d taken her two hundred and fifty miles from home and wouldn’t allow her to go back. It was obvious that she was afraid of the bastard.

That pissed me off but all I said was, “Do you want to go home, Marilyn?”

She drew in her breath and her eyes went wide. “How… how do you know my name? Who are you?”

“My name is Tennessee,” I said, “and Cameron is looking for you. He said to tell you that all is forgiven and he just wants you to come home.”

Her face crumpled and tears seeped down her heavily rouged cheeks. “Oh! But… but… he… he… won’t li… like me now! I’ve done—”

I softened my voice. “He doesn’t care about that, Marilyn. Your brother hired me to find you because he’s worried about you. Now if you really don’t want to go back, well, I’ll tell him that.” I would also report it to the police though I didn’t tell her that. Prostitution became legal everywhere in recent years but not for underage people, and not under the circumstances in which she had become one. “I’d rather you come back with me, though. Home is where you belong. Cameron loves you very much and I’m certain you can work out your differences with him.” I smiled and added gently, “Come on, what will it hurt to give it a go?”

She sniffled and the tears still rolled, but she nodded. “Okay. But Drew’s gonna be mad.” She wiped her eyes on a sleeve. “Will you go with me to get my stuff?”

I smiled. “Sure.” I got out of the car and stepped around to the sidewalk.

I should’ve told her to leave it and she could get more stuff but I suppose it was a lesson I needed to learn.

We walked down toward the guy who was leaning on the wall.

As we approached him, she said, her voice nervous, “Drew, this is Tennessee. My brother sent him to get me. He wants me to come home and—”

Drew, who was about my height but probably outweighed me by forty muscular pounds, straightened up and snarled out, “What? You ain’t going no damn where, girl!” He turned to me, glaring. “You take your skinny ass back to Charlotte and tell that chicken-shit brother of hers that she belongs to me now!”

Looking at him, I could see, even with his size, how he could’ve passed for twenty. He had a baby face and that would be enough to fool most folk but the people I’d talked to, people who knew him, verified that he was thirty.

Now, as a rule, I have nothing against prostitution, or pimps for that matter. Making a living was hard and if that brought home the bread, okay. But, I felt it should be a mutual agreement between the hooker and the pimp, and the hooker needed to be older than fifteen. She in fact needed to be an adult. This girl was way too young. Unfortunately, when I tried to point that out to Drew, I didn’t get very far.

“Look, man,” I started out, but the son of a bitch pushed me up against the wall, grabbed me in the collar, and punched me in the face. The back of my head hit the brick wall and my ears rang like the last bell for homeroom. I heard Marilyn scream.

“I said leave, asshole! She ain’t going with you—”

I couldn’t get to the gun in my shoulder holster, and had neglected to take the iron bar from my bag in the car that I kept in case I ran up on this type of situation. I should’ve put it in a pocket but since I hadn’t, I kicked him in the balls. He gasped and fell to his knees, and I clasped my fists together and bashed him in the top of his head. He went over on the sidewalk.

My head still ringing, I grabbed Marilyn’s hand and wobbled up the street to my car. I opened the passenger side door and shoved her in. As I pulled myself behind the wheel, she wailed, “But what about my stuff?”

I saw Drew trying to get to his feet as I cranked up the car. I had a gun but if we left, I wouldn’t have to use it. I shook my head. “You can get more stuff, Marilyn. If we stay here, I’ll have to shoot him and I’d rather not do that.” I had a better idea.

I went by the local precinct and reported him as a trafficker because Marilyn was underage. She was reluctant to report him at first – because she was afraid he might retaliate – but I assured her that her brother wouldn’t allow that to happen. He could afford bodyguards. She finally saw the logic in it when I pointed out that the pimp was likely to do it again.

I got her home, and she and Cameron had a happy reunion. He grinned and thanked me as he paid the rest of my fee. But, I knew from that incident that I needed to learn to fight better. The only reason I got away from Drew was because he didn’t anticipate the kick to his gonads.

When I got home, Lowell eyeballed the bruise on my jaw and the lump on my head and said if I was going to continue as a tracker, I needed to know how to fight. He took me down to his gym where he introduced me to his friend, Simon Wester, who was as pale and blue-eyed as Lowell was dark and brown-eyed, with a mane of long white hair he wore in a ponytail most of the time.

You learn what you have to learn. Simon was not a large man. He was shorter than I was and not muscular, but he was wiry and fast. He taught me to fight. He whipped my ass a lot but eventually I got better.

One thing Simon would say as he was pummeling or kicking me, “You got big feet, boy, learn to put them to use for more than walking.” He grinned. “Learn well enough and maybe you won’t have to kick anybody in the cojones again.”

Seemed Lowell told him about that. Then, still grinning, he added, “No shame in doing that, boy. You do whatever it takes, you know.”

So he taught me all the dirty fighting he knew and I got especially good with my feet. He taught me to be a better shot and the merits of having a hidden weapon. He told me I needed something better than the backpack I carried everywhere.

“The bag’s okay for general use, when you don’t need to be stealthy, boy,” he said. “But no good when you don’t want everybody knowing what you’ve got.”

He took me to a shop and had me buy a leather jacket imbued with lightweight bulletproof mesh and a zip-out lining. Then, he took me to a lady friend’s house and she took the jacket, looked at it, nodded, and told me to come back the next day. When I went to pick it up, she’d attached a number of pockets inside – some to the zip-out lining. Lowell grinned at the look on my face.

“Carry your shit in that. Keeps your hands free for other things. If the weather’s cold, put in the lining and you’re good to go. Just don’t get too dependent on the bulletproofing. It could fail, and your head won’t have any.”

That was a good point but the jacket was a great idea, if for nothing other than being able to conveniently carry extra ammo. I saw the advantage.

Somewhere in there, I learned he and Lowell were in the marines during the twenties and fought together in one of those nasty conflicts in the Middle East back then. After getting out, they banged around the country together and finally wound up in Charlotte in the thirties where they stayed. Lowell opened the smoke shop and Simon opened his gym. He had a lot of fascinating tales to tell.

It was an interesting time for me and I learned a lot.

In spite of the difficulties in tracking, something about it clicked with me. Perhaps it was simply the challenge of the search but whatever it was, I found it was a thing for which I had a knack. I didn’t advertise I was always successful but I acquired a reputation for being exactly that, so work came in from all over.

Once they heard about me, law enforcement would occasionally request my services. They knew they weren’t hiring a bounty hunter; that I was a tracker and never forced anyone to come back with me. They were happy to pay me to do a find and provide them with a location so that all they had to do was make the arrest.

For them I’d done my job once I learned the whereabouts of the subject. I didn’t try to accost or interact with him – or her – in any way. Instead, I’d locate one of the few phone booths the phone companies managed to restore in spite of my doubts, or I’d find someone who would allow me to use their phone, and I’d give my law enforcement clients a call and tell them where to go to get their man – or woman.

With a much-diminished FBI and local governments unable to supply the police departments with enough funds to have a team of detectives solely for hunting suspects, this arrangement worked well. I made quite a few friends in many police departments and sheriffs’ offices.

It wasn’t only fugitives from the law that wanted to hide. Sometimes folk simply didn’t want contact with whomever they’d left behind. When that happened, I usually respected their wishes, so my terms were a bit different when a private citizen hired me.

In addition to advising my clients in advance that I didn’t force people to come back with me, I also informed them that if the person sought didn’t want contact with the seeker, I wouldn’t be providing addresses or locations – with one exception: an underage kid, though, I always made sure the kid wasn’t running from abuse. Other than that, I would, instead, provide proof that I’d actually made the find. This was in the form of a letter or some type of information or item that could only have been supplied by the person I’d found. Sometimes it was pictures. I gained a reputation for keeping my word.

Anybody hiring a tracker could afford it, and I’d learned a few things since that first tracking case, so I insisted on getting expenses and half up front, and the balance afterward. I did make one exception: if the subject of the search didn’t want any contact with my client and I agreed, I would forgo the remainder of my client’s fee and only charge for any extra expenses incurred.

I would’ve forgone the amount for extra expenses but tracking wasn’t cheap, especially if it involved going long distances. These were my upfront terms, and if a potential client didn’t like them then they didn’t have to deal with me. There were other trackers they could hire. Most accepted my conditions.

Someone wanting no contact didn’t happen often but when it did, after reading the letter, or examining my proof of the find, most clients paid me in full anyway. Folk generally wanted to reconnect, and it worked out okay with the ones who didn’t.

Except for once.

Chapter Thirteen

IT WAS ABOUT A YEAR AND A HALF AFTER I began tracking and I was relieved to get the case because I’d not had one for a while.

I liked having an occasional break from working as it allowed me a quiet stretch for writing, something I’d taken up again. But, I was getting antsy because it was a couple of months since my last case and I was getting low on cash. I was hoping something would turn up soon else, I would have to take on an odd job or two. Like dishwashing.

The guy walked into my office and introduced himself as Abe Harlow, and plunked a hog-choking bundle of green down on my desk. His promise of an equally as fat stack when the job was done got my interest right off. He said his wife got mad at him and left him for another man. He swore he loved her and just wanted her to come home so they could talk and work things out. I’d heard such stories before and it was unnecessary information that wouldn’t influence whether or not I would take the job, but I listened politely.

After I found his estranged wife, it proved to be one of those cases in which the sought after wanted to remain unfound. I informed the client that she declined to return, and gave him the letter she asked me to take to him. It bought me a broken nose.

Harlow, a man in his mid to late forties, lived on the outskirts of a town about ninety miles from Charlotte, in one of the crappy little temporary huts the government put up for people who’d been displaced because of flooding a few years back. It was my guess he’d continued to stay there because it was free. Except for him, everyone had moved on and all but a few of the empty huts deconstructed and removed. The area was pretty isolated but the fact that no one else was around didn’t faze me. I’d visited clients under similar circumstances before.

He didn’t ask me in when I knocked at his door. I got a quick look before he stepped out and closed it, and from the glimpse I got of its condition, I didn’t blame him for not wanting anybody to see inside.

He directed me into the front yard where I gave him the information. He tore open the envelope and scanned the letter his wife sent. I never open and read the letters given me to take back, so I don’t know what was in it, but whatever it was, he didn’t take it well.

He began frowning as he read, then he crumpled the letter and hurled it across the yard. Then he became enraged.

His eyes flew to mine. “Oh you gonna tell me where she is, you little fucker!” he shouted his face turning red. “You ain’t gitting shit else ‘til you do!”

I suppose I should’ve backed up but I didn’t. I said calmly, “Sir, I will remind you that according to our agreement all that was required was that I find her, not bring her back or even tell you where she is. Now—”

He punched me in the nose. I staggered back but quickly steadied myself. My ears rang, and my nose hurt like hell, but at the last moment, I’d seen the punch coming so I’d managed to jerk my head back thus mitigating some of its force. I gave a quick shake to clear my head. I was alert. I was also pissed. I hated getting interrupted mid-word.

He stood there screaming and waving his arms around. “I know she ain’t got no money – what’d she do, fuck you to keep you quiet? Bitch ain’t nothin’ but a goddam slutty whore! You might as well git to talking, old man, ‘cause I’m gonna beat your ass ‘til you do, you—”

I shot him in the foot.

Dumb bastard. You don’t bash someone in the face and then stand around hollering without following up.

Aside from the .357 Magnum I carried in a shoulder holster under my jacket, I’d taken Simon’s advice on keeping a secret weapon and kept a mini .45 attached to a spring release up one sleeve and a knife up the other. I’m fast and I’m strong but I’m not stupid enough to try and go toe-to-toe with someone twice my size while my head is ringing and with what might possibly be a broken nose, so I’d hit the release for the mini. He was lucky I only shot him in the foot.

He howled and fell on his ass and grabbed his foot. Then he fumbled at a pocket. I kicked him in the jaw and he went over like the sack of shit that he was. I reached down, sprinkling his blue plaid shirt with blood from my nose, and extracted the little 9mm he’d been trying get. I stuck it in one of my inner jacket pockets. I was only a little unsteady as I turned and clomped over to my nearby jeep, hauled out a rag from the back seat, and mopped my nose.

I leaned on the side of the vehicle watching him for a few minutes, then, since he was still dozing, I went over, patted him down for any other weapons, and confiscated a pocketknife. I left the bundle of money I found but took his keyring on which there were two identical keys. Both turned out to be for his pickup truck. This indicated the idiot kept his spare on the same ring.

While I waited for him to come around, I went inside his untidy hut and removed the rifles and the shotgun I’d glimpsed on the walls during my quick scan. There were more rifles sitting in two corners, and I pulled open the drawers of a chipped and peeling cabinet that used to be white, and found several handguns. I found fifteen firearms in all. There could’ve been more but if so they were well hidden. I swept all the ammunition I could find into a plastic garbage bag I found on the floor.

I was gaining an understanding of why he stayed in that shitty place and knew I’d guessed right on why his wife refused to come back to him. She’d said she had her reasons for not wanting to return and asked me not to tell him where she was. She hadn’t elaborated and I almost told her no because he was paying me well, and with the other half I’d get on returning with her whereabouts, I wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while. Then I looked at her a little closer.

She likely was a nice-looking woman when she was younger and she still didn’t look bad, but she had scarring down one side of her face and her wrists looked as if they’d been bound so tightly at some point that it left permanent marks. She limped when she walked and a scar on her lower left leg looked like an old bullet wound. Some of her teeth were broken. I could tell she was embarrassed about how she looked. I also guessed she was terrified of him. I made no indication to her of what I’d noticed; I’d simply nodded and said okay.

Her husband was right about one thing: she was broke. She’d borrowed fifty bucks from someone in the house and tried to give it to me but I told her to keep it. Folk sometimes offered money to buy my silence on their whereabouts and frankly, I’d sometimes taken it, but I could never have accepted money from someone in her predicament, even had it been more than I was being paid to find her.

Harlow was an overbearing man, more than able to intimidate a woman. He looked as if he might’ve been a linebacker at some time in his youth, though by the time I met him he had run to fat. I’m sure one of the reasons he hired me was because he’d heard I was good and always found whoever I tracked. I was also soft-spoken and sometimes mistaken for a much older man because of my gray hair and lined face.

Because of the misconstrued age thing, I’m sure Harlow thought he could scare me the way he’d scared his woman and, since I was smaller than he was, whip my skinny ass if it came to that. While he was asking around to find the best tracker, he should’ve also been finding out other facts about me. I’m sure someone would’ve told him that I don’t easily scare, and that I’m not as old as I look. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have made that mistake. Of course, one would’ve thought he’d at least know that weapons were part of the tools of the trade for a tracker.

If he’d kept his fist to himself and waited a minute, I was about to tell him that he didn’t owe me anything else. What he’d already paid me was a lot, more than enough to cover all my expenses and keep me out of dishwashing for a while, but now I felt it only fair that he give me the full balance. I put all the guns and ammo in my jeep, and went back over to him. I put away the mini, hauled the gun from my shoulder holster, and waited.

He finally groaned and stirred. He came up on his elbows and stared at me squatting beside him with my .357 pointed at his head. I think I’ve mentioned my big feet. My friend Simon taught me to use them well and they can do serious damage, especially when I’m wearing boots. I hadn’t kicked him hard but even so his jaw was swelling fast. It likely was broken but I had no sympathy for him.

“You probably can’t speak well right now, Mr. Harlow,” I said quietly. “That’s all right, you don’t have to. Now, I like sex as much as the next man and your wife is good-looking, though, I’ll bet she looked a lot better before you got your hands on her. However, in spite of your suspicions, she and I did nothing together. Don’t go by my gray hair and lined face; she’s almost old enough to be my mother” – not that I’d never had an older woman but I would never have done what he indicated, even had she offered, which she didn’t, because that wouldn’t have been ethical – “and she’s also a very nice lady. You should’ve learned to appreciate what you had.”

I eyed him for a moment in silence. He didn’t try to say anything so I continued. “Before you demonstrated your unwillingness to hear me out, I was about to inform you that I wouldn’t be charging you for expenses since you were so generous with my retainer. But you have offended me so I’ve changed my mind. If you wish to retain one good foot, give me the rest of my fee. My full fee. Then I will go my way and you will only have to limp on one side.”

I rose to my feet keeping my gun on him. The bleeding stopped but my nose throbbed. I touched it with a careful hand. It felt bulbous. I studied him as I calmly waited.

His eyes went wide and he mumbled, “Uh, wai’! Wai’! ‘Ou kin ha’ it! Don’ shoo’! He fumbled at his pocket and pulled out the rubber-band bound wad of money I’d found and left there. He tossed it to me.

I caught it with my free hand and stuck it in a pocket. I didn’t count it. “If this is not the correct amount, Mr. Harlow, you understand I’ll be back.”

From the way he winced when he moved his head up and down, I believe his jaw was in as much pain as my nose.

I regarded him lying there with blood seeping through the hole in the top of his shoe and his mouth gapped open because he couldn’t close it. His woman survived the Event yet he’d treated her so badly that she ran away and hid from him. I thought of Zoni and as sometimes happened, the rage I’d felt deep inside since that day tried to take over. I always tried to keep it from escaping and I’d never shot anyone except in self-defense, and even then hadn’t killed him. I almost pulled the trigger. Instead, I took a couple of deep breaths and pushed it down.

I said softly, “If you by chance happen to find Mrs. Harlow and go near her – and believe me, I’ll know if you do – I will look you up and pay you a visit, and if you’ve hurt her in any way I will shoot you. And, aside from that, if I ever see you again I will shoot you. And, I won’t be aiming for your foot.”

He looked up at me with glassy eyes and jerked his head in a nod. A wet stain began spreading on the front of his dirty khaki pants. I was a little surprised. I didn’t think I was that frightening. Maybe he had to go and couldn’t hold it.

I smiled. “Thank you for your business, Mr. Harlow.” I always thanked my clients.

I left and the first place I headed was to the local sheriffs’ office. I’d done business with them before so they knew me. I stepped through the door and Ken, the deputy at the desk, looked up at me. His eyes widened and he jumped up and came around the desk.

“Tennessee! What in hell happened to you? Hey Roy! Come out here!” He stared at my swollen nose. “Lemme go gitcha some ice. Be right back.”

He hurried down a short hall as the sheriff, Roy Winston, came from his office to see what was going on.

Ken got back while I was explaining the circumstances to Roy. “Put this on your nose. Shoulda had something on there right away but it still might help,” he said handing me an icepack and a towel.

“Thanks, Ken.” I wrapped the towel around the pack and gingerly held it to my nose.

Roy eyeballed my nose. “You need to go get that looked at, Tenn,” he said, frowning “That looks like it might be broken.”

I nodded. “Yes, I know, Roy, but there’s something else I have to do first. The icepack ought to hold it for a while.”

Once upon a time, I would’ve been required to hang around for an investigation, and likely detained or charged with something, but in today’s world, that didn’t happen much anymore. The fact that the sheriff knew me helped, too.

He patted my shoulder and walked with me to the door. “Well, okay, but you be careful and don’t worry about none of this. I’ll send somebody around to check on this guy – Abe Harlow did you say? Never heard of ‘im. I didn’t even know anybody was still staying out there. You go on, we’ll handle it.”

I handed him Harlow’s keys, thanked him, waved at Ken who’d gone back to his desk, and left to pay a visit to Mrs. Harlow. She hadn’t left with another man, she was staying with a family. Harlow lied about that, too.

Mrs. Harlow was upset about my nose and insisted on giving me more ice to hold on it and then she made me some tea. She fluttered around trying to feed me and apologizing for what her asshole of a husband did but I assured her that she didn’t have anything for which to apologize, as it wasn’t her fault. Had I been more on guard, he would never have tagged me.

The money from Harlow turned out to be a lot more than he owed, possibly all he had though I suppose he could’ve had more stashed somewhere. I took the remainder of my fee and left the considerable excess with Mrs. Harlow.

Still, simply because her asswipe of a husband pissed his pants didn’t mean he wouldn’t go looking for his wife once he got his jaw and his foot fixed up – and changed his pants. I didn’t think he would find her but, since it was a possibility, I left five of the rifles and two of the handguns with her and her friends. I told her she should shoot him if she ever saw him coming. I wasn’t sure she’d be able to but thought maybe one of her friends could. By then I’d gotten phone service so I gave her my number and told her if he showed up to let me know and I’d take care of it. She thanked me profusely and gave me a hug before I left. Nice lady. Reminded me of my mother.

I would’ve left all of the firearms because I had enough guns, and didn’t need any more at the time, but I needed extra cash so, except for the 9mm, which I kept, the rest I sold and used some of the money to pay a doctor to look at my nose. Unfortunately, it was several days before I went and he said I should’ve come sooner, so because of that, my nose would always have a crook in it. It wasn’t bad. The doctor said a little plastic surgery would fix it right up if I wanted to go that route. That type of surgery was getting to be iffy, and the break caused no impairment to my breathing so I never bothered. Besides, I had better things to do with my money.

Roy Winston called later. Seemed Abe Harlow had another reason for hiding out in that isolated area and I’d accidentally helped catch a fugitive.

His deputies went out to the site, found Harlow, and took him to a hospital where he was treated and released, and then they arrested and held him for extradition to York, South Carolina because the check they ran on him came up with an assault warrant. Not on his wife but on a different female. The man was a cowardly asshole who undoubtedly got his jollies terrorizing and beating women.

Since I didn’t especially enjoy fighting or getting my nose broken – or shooting someone – I got careful of how I told my clients that the husband/wife/lover or whoever they’d sent me to find didn’t want to come back. That incident taught me to always take a couple of the guys I sometimes hired for legwork, to accompany me if a client wanted to meet in an isolated area.

I never had another such incident. As for Harlow, unfortunately, I did see his ugly ass again but that was much later.

Chapter Fourteen

TWO YEARS AFTER THE DAY THE WORLD changed forever, folk had begun to relax and quit trying to hide if a sudden heavy fog came up, though, if that shit ever happened again I believe everyone knew there was no way to hide from it. But, you couldn’t blame anyone for being paranoid.

On the other hand, the technologies that folk hoped would return hadn’t done so, either. In fact, some things that functioned right after the Event, no longer did or if so, not in the way in which they had before. Folk chalked this up as being part of the aftereffects, though the physicists were still trying to figure it out without much luck. There were also a number of odd leftovers from that day.

One such leftover was in the form of patches of weird growths that appeared not long after the Event – trees, shrubbery, and undergrowth – forming unpleasant blighted sites. It was unknown where they came from or why they appeared in any particular place, but studying them was impossible. For instance, there were five blighted sites in the city, and early on, after a couple of complaints, the authorities sent a crew into one to begin clearing it. They never came out. Whoever was in charge of such things was smart enough not to send anybody in to look for the lost crew.

Someone got the brilliant idea to only go to the edge and begin clearing from the outside. This didn’t work because when the crew showed back up the next day to continue, they found that what they cut down the day before lay moldering on the ground and the vegetation had regrown. Trying to snip off a few pieces of greenery for study didn’t work either, as the cuttings blackened and disintegrated leaving nothing to be tested.

Several places from around the world reported having removed a patch in its entirety only to find that it reappeared overnight. Most such patches weren’t large and there wasn’t that many of them. Generally, the places that had them only had one or two but Charlotte with its five, had more than anywhere else. They didn’t obstruct anything important so avoiding them wasn’t difficult. It was merely something else to which everyone had to adjust. The city posted warning signs.

Trade and the transportation of goods went into a tailspin at first but after the initial chaos, it resumed – with those companies and countries that were still more or less functional. Due to the new limits of the internet, many online businesses eventually shut down.

On the mainland, more trucks were in use since trains didn’t work. Ships, always the major transporters of goods still worked. They became the only way to transport overseas since there was no more air service but they were a lot slower than before because as another of the after effects of the Event, ship engines were no longer as efficient and there were occasions where they completely stalled before getting passengers or goods to the destination. People who could fix them and keep them running were in high demand and sails and oars made a comeback as more than a sport or hobby since the fear was that ship engines would eventually quit completely, as had television, cellphones, and other technologies.

Oddly, there was plenty of oil and therefore gasoline, which was cheap, but the price of fresh water got more expensive as time went on. No one could really explain it.

As to my book going out of print, well it wasn’t only mine that sank into the morass of the aftermath of the Event. It was simply that unknown or new authors – like me – were the first to sink. Many books were no longer in print. Adam Jones, my writer friend who’d acted as my agent, survived the Event, and his books were no longer in print, either, and he had been writing for twenty years and was better known than I was. In our post-apocalyptic existence, he became a courier. Writers better known than either of us were in the same boat – those that survived, that is.

In fact, by three years in, publishing had almost ceased because it wasn’t only the small publishing companies that folded, most of the large ones also went under. There were a few magazines and the occasional newspaper still hanging on, and the libraries were still there, but there weren’t many new books, and hardly any were novels. Most were works by someone who’d come up with a new explanation for the Event. I didn’t read them.

All but two big bank corporations folded. It was three and a half years in by then, and due to our struggling government, the FDIC promised backing for the banks was sparse. Folk with money stashed in the busted banks and hadn’t thought to get it out were left with pennies on the dollar. Or, as Adam put it, they were up shit creek. That was a term with which I wasn’t familiar, but since he was born right at the turn of the century and I was born twenty-two years later, I gathered it was one that had fallen out of general use by the time I came along. It certainly fit the situation, though.

Of course, the stock market took a big dive right off. It rallied a little once goods started being moved again but there were a lot of new poor people; that is, those that didn’t go up and fly from the top of a tall building without a flight suit or a parachute or that went for a permanent swim, or used some other such self-destructive process. It was no surprise that most of the very rich who survived, remained rich. The rest of us just tried to hang on – or we got poorer.

When the majority of the banks tanked, the rich used the banks that were still open but didn’t keep all of their money in them. They hired armed guards to protect their private treasuries, a job I sometimes took when the tracking business was slow.

Like other people in my position, I didn’t have any money in a bank by the time they went under so I had none to lose. Once I used all the cash I got from my parents’ estate, there hadn’t been any point in putting any new earnings into a bank because most of it went as soon as I got it. After paying rent, utilities, and buying food, or as I did for a while before I began tracking, buying whisky or spending it on women, I used a money belt for any small amounts I had left.

Once I began earning more than it was prudent to carry with me, I bought a safe and installed it in the back of my bedroom closet. Yes, my closet-sized flat had closets – two of them. Of course, the safe didn’t always hold cash. I was terrible at saving money, but it was useful for stashing other things, such as items I could sell. It also held the few pieces of my mother and father’s jewelry I’d retrieved from their house, and my old refrigerator magnets and that final note from Zoni. And my extra firearms and ammo. It was a large safe.

Our going-to-hell government still gave lip service to the greenbacks and coins they cranked out, but some areas of the country began using their own kinds of money and a few would only deal in silver and gold or precious stones. With some, it was strictly barter. You couldn’t blame them, especially after that nearly non-existent support from the FDIC when the banks crashed. Barter is how I obtained my jeep. One of my clients paid me with it in lieu of cash. The jeep came in handy when I needed to go somewhere that my old Honda couldn’t handle.

By four years in, the job market had gotten ridiculous and unemployment moved far into double-digits but surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly since it offered one explanation of why there was no longer public education or some of the other amenities from before, the government kept social security going. Moreover, there was still a type of welfare, which was a good thing even though the stipends weren’t much.

If not for that, there would’ve been a lot more starving citizens because the price of food increased and food stamps no longer existed. But, everyone knew it probably wouldn’t continue because by that point, no one thought the federal government would last much longer considering the state of the country and society as a whole.

I was surprised it had lasted that long.

Part Three: Blue Heaven

Chapter Fifteen

LIFE STAGGERED ON. HEADING INTO THE eighth year after the day the world took a dive down the sewer, and much to everyone’s amazement, our government was still hanging on though it was by a thread.

When I began my tracking career, I got a lot of business, but about a year ago, things got… let’s just say the slide continued and work slacked off.

Not getting as many tracking assignments was a pain in the ass. I saved when I could but since saving wasn’t one of my strong points, I sometimes had to do other work to get by. Working as a guard was my first choice for a side job but when that wasn’t available I took others, such as dishwashing, or street sweeping, for instance – anything but grave digging, though had it come down to it and there was nothing else available, or I had nothing to sell, I suppose I would’ve done it again.

Doing work outside my main line was what took me to Blue Heaven. It was a subdivision within the city limits positioned near the eastern border, but it managed to avoid being a part of it, mostly because of the wide gully and stone wall that separated it from everything. I hadn’t thought about it since the Event but once I got there, I remembered it was the neighborhood in which Zoni and I had been thinking of one day buying a condo.

Don’t ask me how the place got that name. It was probably one of those cutesy designations the developer came up with. I’d never gone there and I don’t know how it was before, but by the time I went, it was about as far from being Heaven as any place could get without actually being Hell.

On my first visit, I observed that, while things were slowly slipping down through shit everywhere, in Blue Heaven, the descent was faster. It was a neighborhood that seemed to have travelled farther in that shitty direction than anywhere else.

Of all the shitty places in this city, Blue Heaven was probably the shittiest. The only reason somebody wouldn’t have agreed would be because they’d never been there. Of course, outside the immediate vicinity, most didn’t know much about the place, and those that did never had a whole lot to say about it.

Yes, I know that was a lot of shitting, but, I feel it was justified. The only thing I knew about the place at first was only what everyone else knew – that hours after the Event, the heavy fog that pervaded everywhere lifted, and the weather went back to normal. Except in Blue Heaven.

When the sun was shining brightly in the rest of the city, the skies over Blue Heaven were always dim, as though occluded by an unseen something that cast a perpetual shadow. It was not as thick or as low-lying as the original fog but it was there. Anyone who happened to look in that direction saw the mist but nobody discussed it. This marker, a leftover, was an unwanted reminder of the day it all began, and it was enough to cause most folk, including me, to avoid the place.

I only learned other unpleasant facts about Blue Heaven when I went there to make a delivery. Afterwards, I could attest to the fact that whatever else, it was an exceptionally bewildering pile of sh— okay, I’ve used that word enough for now. I’ll just say that it was a complicated dump. In spite of that, surprisingly, much of the usual crime in the city never happened there, so you’d think it wouldn’t be such a bad place to live. But, as I found out during my initial visit, you’d be wrong because there was a reason for its low crime statistics and that reason made it a rather disagreeable place to live.

Making that delivery was a simple job, one that wouldn’t take long. I would’ve done it for free if I hadn’t been in need of a little cash at the time, because I was doing it for that writer-turned-agent-turned-courier friend, Adam Jones. I’d helped him out before, and he would hand me fifty or sixty bucks for my trouble when he thought I needed it but that time he said he’d give me a hundred and fifty. I didn’t ask him why he was paying me so much more simply to deliver an envelope. I needed the money and I figured he knew it and was doing it to help me out. I’d done the same for folk I knew during my more prosperous times.

Blue Heaven was not a particularly large area – there were much larger subdivisions around – but, as I learned, finding your way through the neighborhood could be difficult and confusing, even in daylight. If you weren’t familiar with the locale, or if you were inattentive or careless, you could get lost. I’m well familiar with that because that’s what happened to me on my first trip there. It was one of the unpleasant facts about the place and one that made it not such a great place to live.

From the beginning, I didn’t like the feel of it. A bridge that spanned the gully around the neighborhood was a part of the road leading in, and the minute I started over it, the sky dimmed and my eyes began to sting. I might’ve turned around but I needed the money, and besides, turning back would’ve put Adam in a bind. His job of being a courier was doubly important after the mail system broke down, and it paid well. He’d found himself with too many deliveries at the same time and missing one would’ve meant a loss of revenue, so I was making the run for him.

I kept going, but I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned the eye-stinging substance in the air. There wasn’t anything like that during the Event but maybe the haze hanging high over the place was different.

Main Street was the road in and it passed through a gateway that sported a small stone guardhouse where two armed guards in tan uniforms wearing nametags that didn’t identify their employer, stopped me. They wanted to know my reason for being there and then they asked me to show some kind of ID.

Adam told me about that beforehand, explaining it was a gated community, a term that meant a lot more than it used to. No problem. Due to our diminished and understaffed police department, a number of neighborhoods operated in that fashion.

“I’ve made deliveries there but never to that particular address,” he said. “So I can’t give you directions but don’t worry, one of the guards will help you with that. They’re kinda of, um, standoffish, but they’ll tell you how to get there. Just don’t ask them anything else.” He also gave me the first indication of how shitty the place was. “You’re gonna want to walk to the address from the guardhouse.”

I frowned. “What? Why?” Not that I minded walking but I’d supposed I would be driving once I found out where it was.

“Streets are bad. Unless you want to take a chance on losing your undercarriage, you’re better off walking. Remember the time I told you about when I busted my oil pan? That’s where it happened, and I was lucky I didn’t also pop a tire or lose a muffler. The neighborhood’s not big so it won’t take that long to get anywhere in there on foot. Besides, they kinda advise you to walk. If I’d listened to ‘em the first time I went, I wouldn’t’ve damaged my oil pan. There’s a place to leave your car across from the guardhouse. It’s not paved but you can park there without popping your tires – or getting stuck.”

I spotted the small lot right inside the gate. If he hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve driven by. The only reason I could tell it was for parking was the sign that announced in red letters on a white background, “Guest Parking”.

I pulled into the unlined hard-packed dirt lot and got out of my Honda that was ten years old when I bought it right out of college. The last seven – going on eight – years had been rough on it, and wire, duct tape, and prayer was what was mainly holding it together. It rattled but most of the time it ran. I only used my jeep when the Honda wouldn’t go or when I went tracking. I planned on using the Honda as long as it held together but I wished I’d known about the bad roads before I got to Adam’s office; I could’ve taken the jeep. Still, I figured a short walk wouldn’t kill me.

The two oversized private cops in front of the guardhouse were watching me. One was taller than my six-foot-two, and the other was maybe a couple of inches shorter, but both looked as if they ate well.

Blinking my burning eyes, I walked over and greeted them pleasantly while handing over my driver’s license. Their nametags proclaimed them to be “Earl” and “Jim”. Neither smiled or offered me a greeting.

Earl, who took my ID, squinted at it, and then grunted and asked my business there. I explained I was filling in for the regular courier and that the big brown envelope I was carrying was for somebody that lived at 1209 Carter Street. I held the envelope up so he could see the address. It didn’t have a name, just the initials “SL”. He glanced at it with a slight frown then shot his eyes at his companion without saying anything.

My eyes were tearing up and I wanted to get on with it and get out so I broke the silence. “I’ve never been in this neighborhood before. Could you tell me how to get to that address, please?” And, since my eyes were burning and I noticed their eyes looked irritated, too, I casually asked, “Hey, what’s in the air? Is it there all the time?”

To my surprise, the guy tensed and his eyes narrowed. He snapped, “Come with me!” He snatched the envelope from my hand.

I thought his reaction was odd. I was real polite. I said “please” and hadn’t raised my voice. I opened my mouth to ask why, but he growled, “No questions!”

I stared at him but then I slid my eyes to Jim, the other hulk of a guard, and his face was as hard and unsmiling as Earl’s. Both of the big, no-neck goons had guns. They hadn’t pulled them out but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Folk sometimes used them for little or no reason so I didn’t demand to know how the hell I was supposed to find my way without directions or who gave them the authorization to detain people. Things had changed and it wasn’t the old days. I sensed raising a stink would make matters worse. I kept quiet and allowed them to escort me into the guardhouse.

Earl said, “Wait here. I gotta make a call.” He handed my license and the envelope to Jim and stepped back outside.

He pulled out what at first I thought was a cellphone but quickly saw was one of the walkie-talkies some company designed a few years back to resemble a cellphone. That made more sense since cellphones no longer worked at all. In fact, there were no longer any cellular companies.

Jim motioned me away from the door towards the back wall. The only seating in the place were a couple of backless wooden stools and he didn’t invite me to sit. He stared at me in silence, his face non-committal. I stared back and remained quiet. He finally turned away and stood looking out the one small window.

The blockhead with the walkie-talkie must’ve called for his boss because after about fifteen minutes some self-important, obviously higher level asshole in a black business suit carrying a briefcase, came walking up and began holding a quiet conversation with him. The goon who’d been watching me stepped outside and joined them.

They talked for a couple of minutes then the suit shook his head, pulled out something from the briefcase that resembled a credit-card reader, stuck my driver’s license in and pulled it back out. I guessed it was some type of copier but I wasn’t worried. It was valid, so no problem. He ambled in with my driver’s license and the envelope.

He didn’t introduce himself or ask my name, though I suppose he’d seen it on my license. After staring at the address side of the envelope for a second, he handed it and my driver’s license to me. He seemed nervous.

Giving me a cheesy condescending smile, he said in an odd accent, “There’s been a weather inversion and that’s what’s causing your eyes to sting. It’ll go away after a while. You’re free to go, ah, Mr. Marrie.” Then he told me how to get to Carter Street.

To avoid possible further detention, I composed my face into as pleasant an expression as it would go. I nodded and said, “Thank you” and didn’t correct him on the pronunciation of my name. He didn’t say what it was in the air that the weather was inverting but I didn’t ask him any questions including why the fuck the guard couldn’t simply have told me that.

“Oh, by the way,” he said to my back as I was going out the door. “It’s best to walk there from here. Don’t worry about, ah, about your car; it’ll be fine where it is.”

He gave a short chuckle that bordered on being a giggle. Couldn’t figure that out unless he was laughing because he thought my car was a joke and nobody would want the thing.

I didn’t turn to look at him. If I had, he might’ve gotten the impression that I was irritated. I nodded again and kept going.

At least they didn’t search me. If they’d found my gun or my knife, they probably would’ve taken them. The city didn’t ban concealed weapons but in spite of its decrepit state, Blue Heaven was a gated community and such places made their own rules.

But, lesson learned. If you wanted into Blue Heaven without impediment, you stated your business, forked over your credentials, didn’t ask questions, and moved on. I wondered why the hell they’d gotten so uptight about it. When I got back, I planned on asking Adam if he knew.

Annoyed, I hiked down to Carter Street. I noted the roadways had a curious oily sheen to them, and, except for Main, which was smooth and paved with blacktop, were as bad as Adam described. At some point, someone had put down a layer of ankle-turning gravel that didn’t really fill in all the potholes and ruts. I saw why Adam felt lucky not to have popped a tire. The sharp gravel would be murder on balding ones like his – and mine. I wondered why such a crummy place needed armed guards.

I found the address, which was on the corner in what appeared to be a double or triple lot. It was a large, rambling two-story, of an architecture that didn’t quite match the surrounding houses. Faced with stone in varying shades of brown and tan instead of the pastel vinyl of the rest, it was just as grimed but in much better condition than most of the other homes I’d passed. There was a large mailbox near the sidewalk made of stones that matched the ones of the house, but Adam said the envelope had to be hand delivered to the resident, so I rang the doorbell and handed it off to the old man with longish white hair who came to the door.

He was wearing glasses with the thickest lenses I’d ever seen, and stared at me with what might’ve been a smile since the corners of his mouth seemed to give an upward twitch. He mumbled something that sounded vaguely like “thank you” and shut the door without further conversation. That didn’t bother me. I didn’t want to talk to him, either.

I headed back to the entrance, and that’s when I discovered how easy it was to get lost in Blue Heaven.

Chapter Sixteen

WHEN I GOT TO THE CORNER AND STARTED UP the street, I thought I must’ve turned the wrong way because the sign displayed a different name than the street I’d come down.

I was irritated but also baffled because I’d never gotten that turned around before. But, since I was pissed at the guards at the time, I figured I’d not paid proper attention to which way I turned. I stood there for a moment trying to remember. Perhaps I’d turned left instead of right.

I reversed directions and went back the other way. Doing that didn’t afford a correction, and I spent the afternoon trying to find my way out.

The place was dingy and depressing. The overhead, ever-present haze didn’t help, but some of this was due to the fact that the year before, major power outages began cropping up everywhere, so some folk had taken to using wood- and coal-burning stoves and fireplaces as a backup means of heating and cooking. The smoke left the buildings covered in a layer of grime and soot.

So far, the outages had been temporary but there was no rhyme or reason for them. In some places, they lasted for days and the fear was that they might become permanent.

That part wasn’t any different from everywhere else, though the place looked dirtier than the rest of the city. There, they attempted to keep things semi-clean and the streets in repair. Or they did where people still lived.

Some of the Blue Heaven structures were already coming apart with fascia falling off, holes appearing in roofs, and siding that sagged. A lot of the lawns were unkempt. It was one of the newer subdivisions, developed only a couple of years before the Event so I thought that was pretty fast deterioration after only seven years and some months. If you didn’t notice the tendrils of smoke coming from an occasional chimney or see a furtive movement at a curtained window, you might’ve supposed that, as in the case of my parents’ neighborhood, you were in one of the sections of the city that had been totally abandoned. Again, I found myself puzzled as to why it was a gated community. It didn’t appear to be the kind of place that usually was.

The first thing I learned was that most of the people were neither friendly nor helpful. There weren’t many out, and the first two I attempted to stop and ask for directions behaved as though they were deaf and wearing blinders. They ignored my friendly “Hello”.

My greeting died on my lips as they swung past me at a fast clip. I didn’t try to catch them. I shrugged and kept going.

I’d gone another couple of blocks when I heard somebody coming up behind me. I turned around to see a woman carrying a shopping bag in one hand. When I spoke and started to ask her for directions, she looked startled then her face tightened and she clutched the bag to her chest. Without saying a word, she swung around and scrambled off in the opposite direction.

Too startled to call after her, I watched her go. She moved fast for a woman of her apparent age of around sixty-five. I didn’t chase after her. Maybe she was simply nervous because I was a stranger and running behind her would likely scare her even more, though, I didn’t consider myself to be all that intimidating.

I was clean-shaven, and the hair that became salt and pepper overnight had, over time, become an all over silvery gray. My knit cap didn’t completely cover it and the gray broadcast to the world that I was an older man. That should’ve been a plus; you know, kind of reassuring since it was more of the younger men who were into mugging old ladies on the street than older ones. Unlike those boneheads at the guardhouse, I wasn’t all big and bulky, but maybe my height put her off. I guess it could’ve been the slightly crooked nose or maybe it was the faded black jeans and worn leather jacket, or my much less than pristine sneakers. Or, judging by her apparent age, maybe she was old school and was skittish around black guys.

Mystified, I shook my head and moved on.

I knocked on several doors but nobody answered, so I gave it up. I rambled around for what felt like hours though my watch disagreed and indicated it had only been one, and after walking up and down a number of streets in the neighborhood – some more than once – I ran up on Semptor Labs.

Up until that moment, I hadn’t realized that Blue Heaven was where the company, whose name was on a third of the goods sold in the state and up and down the east coast, was located. It helped explain armed guards at the gate of what had to be one of the most run-down neighborhoods in the city. I thought it was curious the company name wasn’t anywhere on their uniforms.

I remembered the envelope with the initials “SL” that I’d delivered. I recalled the way black suit stared at the envelope. Perhaps the taciturn old gent who took the delivery was somebody that worked for the company.

I didn’t do pointless dwelling on the fact that I’d been stomping around for an hour and was only then spotting the company at the end of a street I went down at least twice in my wanderings.

I studied the gate that held the plain white placard with black lettering proclaiming that this was Semptor Labs. Had I ever thought about it, I probably would’ve supposed it would be located somewhere a lot more impressive than Blue Heaven. And, would be a lot more imposing.

Spread out over several acres, the company sat downhill in its own little valley. It consisted of one two-story, tan and beige structure, and a four story that looked more like apartment housing than part of a business complex. The buildings were cleaner than the homes in the area, as though they got an occasional washing. There were six other, rambling structures I construed to be plants or possibly warehouses. Parked nearby on the grounds was a fleet of delivery trucks and vans bearing the company logo. A strand of trees hid an eight-foot high chain-link fence that separated the company from the rest of the neighborhood.

I thought the whole thing was small for a business that dealt in a large amount of goods. I only began seeing their brand a little over seven years before – right after the Event – and that would make them fairly new, yet the amount of commodities on which their name was stamped was considerable. I supposed they were around before as a start-up that no one really noticed, and had grown bigger since.

A large assortment of items came from that company. They put out a number of disparate products: toilet paper, paper towels, napkins, and in addition to paper goods there was furniture, car parts, batteries, computers and software, guns and ammo, soap, soup, pots and frying pans, cigarettes, condoms – I wouldn’t have been surprised to see steaks, butter, shoes, or pajamas wearing their brand. They seemed to have a bit of everything. There were also a number of gas stations bearing their logo.

I’d bought a few items put out by them – notably hardware for keeping my aging laptop running, and car parts, gas, batteries, condoms, and toilet paper, but most of their goods, except gas which was cheap everywhere, were kind of pricey. Aside from the expense, though, even when my funds were better I didn’t need much of what they sold. I found out later that the majority of Blue Heaven inhabitants worked for them but from the looks of most of the homes, they wouldn’t have been able to afford many of their employers’ products, either. Or maybe they just liked living in substandard housing.

Seeing the place for the first time, I had to wonder from where all the stuff came since trade had slacked off, and there was no way Semptor Labs could be fabricating it all in that small locale. But, there was no one around to ask and, considering the reaction of the folk I’d seen thus far, I wasn’t likely to get an answer anyway.

As I stood there, I noticed that the stinging in my eyes, which abated considerably while I roamed the streets, had returned. It wasn’t as bad as it was at first but whatever was in the air was stronger in that area. That led me to conjecture that it wasn’t coming from the overhanging haze after all. Maybe Semptor Labs was manufacturing some kind of chemical. After all, it did have “Labs” in its name.

I didn’t see any movement on the grounds and there didn’t appear to be a lock on the gate. It had a lift-up latch, but eyeing the big “No Trespassing” sign that was right next to the one bearing the company’s name, I wasn’t curious or stupid enough to try getting in without permission. Simply because I didn’t see any guards on the grounds didn’t mean none were around, or that there wasn’t some type of surveillance system. I turned around to continue my unexpected and unwanted tour of Blue Heaven, and my search for a way to end it.

I stepped away from the company’s gate and down an unnamed road, and within a few feet I spotted a street sign that read “Main”. I stared at it for a long moment. I hadn’t noticed the sign before but I knew Main went past the guardhouse, so I headed up the road hoping that this time, I’d soon run up on the entrance. I was disappointed but not surprised when I passed a street sign that indicated I was now on Spruce Street and not Main. The guardhouse was nowhere in sight so I slogged on.

I hadn’t seen anyone since the woman who’d run from me but on the next street I turned down, there was a man coming towards me. I made another stab at asking for help.

“Hey man, I’m a little turned around. Could you give me some direc—”

The son of a bitch jerked as if I were a venomous snake, and took off across the street running before I could finish. I’m normally a patient man but clomping around on sharp gravel for over an hour in rundown sneakers is hard on the feet – and the temper. At that point I was thirsty, tired, and frustrated. I didn’t try to catch him, but I flung a “Fuck you!” after him.

I shook my head, exasperated. Was everybody in the whole damned place full of loose screws? I mean, I think everyone, including myself, went a little loopy during the Event but those of us who survived eventually more or less regained our sanity. Maybe these hadn’t or if they had, it was of the “less” variety. They didn’t appear to be violent; most of the violent ones were dispatched a while back in one way or another. Of course, you could never be certain they hadn’t overlooked a few…

High intensity anger over the absurd situation had been trying to edge into my consciousness for a while. That wouldn’t lead to anything helpful, so I forced it down and kept going.

Another half-hour and I was about to start knocking on doors again, which probably wouldn’t have gotten me anywhere either but by then, my frustration had ratcheted up and that ever present but suppressed rage was waving its prickly fingers trying to get me to notice. It was late afternoon and with it being mid-Fall, the sun was wending its way down towards the horizon. It would be dark soon, and plodding around lost in Blue Heaven after dark had zero appeal. While I was deciding which house to try first, the crunch of footsteps caught my attention. I looked up. A boy of about twelve or thirteen was coming in my direction on the other side of the street.

Trying to sound calm, I called out, “Hey kid, got a minute?”

He stopped, fidgeting from one foot to the other. I thought he was going to bolt, but, he didn’t.

I was wary but at least he hadn’t taken off running yet, so I walked over, taking care not to appear threatening. I plastered on what I hoped was an reassuring smile.

“I’m glad you stopped, son. I’ve been trying to find my way back to the neighborhood entrance. Can you tell me how to get there?”

He was wearing threadbare jeans and a tattered denim jacket. His hatless head exposed close-cropped black hair. He looked cold. As are kids that age going through a growth spurt, he was gangly, out of proportion while waiting for his body to catch up to his arms and legs. Briefly, memories of my days as a teacher tried to nudge into my head but I squelched them. That life was over and I couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

He stared at me with big brown eyes, before saying solemnly, “You have to keep where you wanna go in mind, mister, and don’t pay no ‘tention to anything else. You do that, you can find your way around okay.”

I studied his face looking for a hint he was shitting me but he seemed to be dead serious, so I said, “Er, okay, son. I’ll keep that in mind. Just this time, though, could you point me in the right direction?”

He hesitated for a second, then nodded and guided me back to the street off which I’d turned that sported a sign that said it was Oakwood Lane. “Keep going that way”- he pointed – “and keep your mind on it else you might git lost again.”

Relief rushed in. “Thank you, son. I appreciate it.”

He dipped his head and started back up the way we’d come. A gust of chill wind cut its way down the street, a foretaste of the winter that was a month and a half away, and the boy shivered and hunched his shoulders as he plodded away.

I tried but failed to dismiss him from my mind.

“Hey kid,” I called. He stopped and turned, his eyebrows going up. I pulled off my hat and held it out to him. “Here, take this.”

His big eyes got bigger and he hesitated before coming back and slowly reaching for the gray knit cap.

“Um, thanks mister.” He fingered it with an expression that was almost reverent, and flashed a hint of a smile as he pulled the cap onto his head and over his ears. I nodded and he gave me a last look showing me a bigger smile before turning and continuing up the street. His step was springier.

Old memories tried once again to surface but I pushed them away and headed in the direction he’d pointed.

The sign on the corner had changed again. Now it was Main, the same one I’d taken when I left Semptor Labs. It was Oakwood a few minutes ago. A chill crawled up the back of my neck. I shivered and decided it was best if I ignored the change.

It sounded implausible when he said it and I didn’t really believe it could work, but, hell, I had nothing to lose, so I took the boy’s advice and kept my mind strictly on the entryway. I didn’t know if that was what did the trick, but that time I made it.

Black suit had returned to whatever hole in which he hung out, but Earl and Jim were still there and smirked at me as I went by to go climb into the pile of pieced together junk that I called my car. Bastards must’ve known I’d get lost.

I didn’t stop to ask them anything, such as how such a small neighborhood and a road that ran nearly straight from the company to the entryway managed to be so confusing that I needed help to find my way back.

Or what the fuck was wrong with the people.

Chapter Seventeen

MY WANDERING TURNED OUT TO HAVE BEEN educational about more than learning the location of Semptor Labs and that the area was full of unfriendly, possibly unhinged, assholes. Among other things, the eye irritant black-suit said would clear up “in a while”, did, but only the farther away I was from Semptor Labs. That kind of verified to me that it was something going on there that was causing it.

And, for what it was worth, the time I spent rambling around lost hadn’t been a total waste. I also learned the basic layout of the place. That was a good thing since I was going to have to go back one more time, though, I hoped not to get lost again.

I’d gone up and down eight named streets – plus five that if they had names I never spotted the signs – and passed a number of alleys and tiny passageways. Six of the streets were dead ends while the others all circled back around to join Main. I may have missed a few but that was probably most. You’d think it would be easy to find your way around such an uncomplicated set-up. That is, it was uncomplicated if you didn’t count the fact that from time to time, without warning you found yourself on a street that a moment before had seemed to be a different one.

I described the trip to Adam and told him what happened at the guardhouse.

“Hey, I told you not to ask the guards anything except for directions. You gotta learn to listen. It wasn’t the one you asked about getting to Carter Street that set ‘em off. It was the one about what was in the air.”

I stared at him. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Near as I can tell, it’s best not to ask them about anything other than directions, but I sure as hell don’t know why. Hey, they got rough with me ‘cause I asked if that wall went all the way around the neighborhood. Look, I also got lost there, once. The second time I went, I was on foot because I wasn’t gonna take my car back down in there. I can’t say for sure but I think it’s a little easier to find your way out if you’re driving, though in that case you might lose a piece off your car.

“I think that’s why I didn’t get lost the first time I went but I’d rather have kept my car in one piece because I didn’t know I’d busted the oil pan until I was half-way back to my office and my oil light started blinking. Anyway, the time I got lost, if I hadn’t run up on a bar with a friendly bartender right off, I probably would’ve been dragging my ass around there for hours, too. He told me how to get out of the place.”

“Did he know what was in the air?”

“Nah. I asked him about that. He said they’ve always thought it was from that crap hanging overhead. They’ve gotten used to it though he said some days are worse than others.”

“Well, did you know Semptor Labs was in there? After all, judging by the “SL” initials on it, I think that envelope was for someone who works there.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t make the connection. I’m just as surprised as you about that. Who would’ve thought they’d be there of all places?”

“You’re right. But, I suppose they can be anywhere they want.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, they can.”

I asked my next question carefully. “What did the bartender tell you about finding your way out?”

His eyes flicked away from mine for a second then he shrugged. “He said I had to keep my destiny in mind and not get distracted. I know it sounds off-the-wall but it works. I’ve made two deliveries in there since then and didn’t get lost either time.”

That was about the same thing the boy said.

“So, why didn’t you tell me before I went and found myself schlepping around looking for the exit?” The absence of that information had caused me to lose two hours of my life that I wasn’t ever going to get back. And creeped the shit out of me.

“Well, I guess I should have but I really needed you to go and was kinda hoping you wouldn’t get lost. After all, I didn’t get lost the first time I went.” He shook his head and his lips crooked into a half smile. “Besides, how do you tell somebody something like that without sounding loopy? If I’d told you, would you have believed me, and if you did would you have gone?” He shrugged, losing the smile as he gazed out the window of his small office. He muttered softly, “I think the whole thing’s got something to do with…”

He didn’t finish and I didn’t push. I briefly thought about temporal and spatial displacement. I knew what he’d started to say and the Event was something neither of us wanted to bring up.

He had a point, too. I likely wouldn’t have believed him. I would’ve been wondering if my friend was finally letting it all get to him and was falling over the edge. I would’ve gone anyway. But now I knew why he’d paid me more to make the delivery.

I was irritated, though. I had already promised to make another run for him in two weeks, but if he hadn’t been paying me another hundred and fifty bucks to go, I would’ve reneged.

Chapter Eighteen

HAVING LEARNED FROM MY FIRST GO ROUND, I got through my second trip to Blue Heaven without much trouble. There had been only one glitch.

Not at the guardhouse. Getting in was uneventful. I was delivering another brown envelope to the same place as before so directions weren’t necessary, and I knew not to ask any questions, not even the obvious one of why the hell they needed to ID me again when they knew who I was from the previous visit. I figured they were following orders and I didn’t need the suit coming out to tell me that.

The glitch came after I made the delivery and was making my exit. Trouble was, on the way back out I made one small misstep. I still wasn’t all the way convinced about “keep your mind on where you’re going and you won’t get lost” and for a moment I allowed my thoughts to wander, so, I got lost again. However, it was different from the first time.

I’d started back to the entrance and a chill breeze made me think of the boy I met two weeks before. I wondered how he was doing, if he still had the cap I gave him. I remembered the ragged jacket he was wearing and hoped he had something heavier for the winter. I snapped back to the present and found myself in front of a soot-smudged, frayed-around-the-edges little shop wedged between a couple of taller buildings. The taller buildings appeared to be unoccupied but the shop had an old neon sign in the window broadcasting the fact that it was a bar. I looked around. I was down one of those little side alleys I hadn’t ventured into before. I didn’t try to figure out how I got there.

The name of the bar was “The Hole in the Wall”. Kind of oddball but a lot more distinctive than the name of the one where I hung out in my neighborhood – “Bob’s”.

Annoyed with myself – and Blue Heaven for being such a pain in the ass – I stood there wondering if it was the same bar Adam had encountered. I was thirsty, so I went in.

The name was a good description of the place. It was small and the furnishing looked old and a little worse for the wear, but in contrast to its exterior, it was very clean. There was one booth up front and one in the back with three small tables in between. An old jukebox sat next to a pool table across from the back booth. As I’ve said, the place was small so there was only the one pool table. There was a rack of cue sticks displayed behind it and beyond that were two doors on the back wall. One, with a stylized placard showing male and female figures, was a unisex restroom. The door beside it displayed a dimly glowing red and white exit sign.

There was a man and a woman sitting at one of the little tables sipping drinks. The man, facing the door, looked up and nodded a greeting and the woman turned to look and gave me a friendly smile. That was surprising after the folk I’d seen the first time I was there. I nodded back. The only other person in the place was a man behind the counter whom I took to be the bartender.

It was around noon and the middle of the week so I was moderately surprised to see anyone there until I noticed it wasn’t strictly a bar. It also sold sandwiches, snacks, cigarettes, and magazines. I wondered if the jukebox worked but I didn’t plan to hang around long enough to find out. I slid onto one of the barstools at the counter and took a look at the menu, which included drink prices. After mentally going over my uncertain cash futures, I ordered water.

The bartender was not at all like the folk from whom I’d tried to get directions when I wandered off track the first time. With his bushy eyebrows and wire-rimmed glasses, he reminded me of my long ago late neighbor, Dave, though Dave had been taller and slimmer.

He was talkative and friendly and told me to call him “Joe”. A six-ounce glass of water went for anywhere between ten and fifteen dollars depending on where you were, and his was eleven but he only charged me five bucks. I think he took pity on me after seeing I was lost, and, he gave me the same advice as had the boy about how not to get in that state. Along with that, and what Adam said and the fact that it seemed to have worked the first time, I gave up my last doubt. I knew it was something I needed to retain in my sometimes-rambling mind in order to get back to the entrance.

After thinking about it, it struck me that the reason the people on the streets had appeared to be such unfriendly assholes might’ve been because they were trying their damnedest to make it to where they were going without losing their way. They had simply been desperate not to allow a distraction by some bumbling fool who had. Not friendly, but understandable now that I knew. I was lucky to come up on that kid and that he hadn’t run off, too. Maybe it was easier for the young to find their way.

That’s also when it occurred to me that there wouldn’t be much crime on the streets. If you happened to get past the guards, which wasn’t easy, then you’d have to be lucky to find somebody out on the streets to rob after which getting away could get complicated. Worrying you were going to be caught would be very distracting and being distracted was how you got lost. By the time you managed to find your way out – that is if you did – somebody would’ve alerted the guards who would be waiting when you finally dragged your lost ass back up to the entry. In fact, the worry of being caught committing any crime wouldn’t be conducive to finding your way around, though, with people being people, I was sure there were some types of lawbreaking that could be had in Blue Heaven.

I thanked the bartender, collected my thoughts, and tried for the entrance again, and that time I made it out without any problems.

Later, Adam laughed and shook his head at my blunder. “Better start listening, son,” he chuckled, as he verified it was the same bar he’d found.

He didn’t have to worry about me listening. I told him I’d do future deliveries for him – to other locations.

I wasn’t ever going to Blue Heaven again.

Chapter Nineteen

IT WASN’T UNTIL AFTER MY LAST TRIP THAT I learned a few more things about Blue Heaven including the fact that most of the people worked for Semptor Labs.

I acquired that information from a client, a man who was a technician at one of the radio stations and lived in Blue Heaven at one time. He hired me to find his brother a couple of weeks after I made that last delivery for Adam to that disorienting locale.

“He’s not somewhere in Blue Heaven, is he?” I asked warily.

He shook his head. “No, he’s not. He headed out west a while back.”

I asked my client why he left Blue Heaven.

“My brother and I were roomies and we both left soon after… well you know soon after what.” He didn’t want to say the name. I didn’t blame him. “I was a sound tech for channel nine news and he worked at the airport. You know what happened to those businesses so we were out of work from the start. I’ve gone back a few times to visit a couple of friends but if you’ve ever been there you know how hard it is to find your way around, so I don’t go often.”

I nodded. I understood. “It’s not a pleasant place to visit. Why would anyone continue to live there?”

“For the work. Most of the ones that stayed work for Semptor Labs. I’m not real sure when they moved in, I don’t remember seeing them before but I imagine they were there, just smaller. The company sent out recruiters a couple of months after… that day. The place wasn’t that bad at first and a lot of the people didn’t want to move, and as folk lost jobs in other places, well, they went to Semptor since it was right in the neighborhood. Guy came up to me and my brother wanting to know if we’d sign on but I was still thinking television would come back, and my brother wanted to go look for some girl he knew. We still had some savings at the time, so we told him no.”

“What kind of work do the people perform at Semptor Labs?” I was certain the company couldn’t possibly be making all the products they sold. “Is anything manufactured there?”

He shook his head. “Not as far as I know. A friend who works for them said the stuff comes in from somewhere else. It’s always waiting for them when they get there. They package the goods and load them on the trucks to be shipped out to retailers.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t pay a whole lot but they can make more with overtime, and, it’s a job.”

He was right, and what’s more, jobs were getting increasingly hard to come by, but I think I would’ve been trying to find something to do elsewhere. And, I’d been wrong about the production of some kind of chemical there, though, I had to wonder where the eye irritant was coming from. And, why the word Labs in the name? My ex-client didn’t know.

I found his brother in a Texas jail. Nothing serious, a misunderstanding between him and a couple of guys in a bar. I bailed him out, he called his brother, all was well.

This brings me to the case that saw me making my way back into Blue Heaven.

It was a month after finding the ex-client’s brother, and one of the two surviving members of the state’s most prominent families hired me to find the other member: her missing younger sister, and the trail led to Blue Heaven. I took the case for two reasons.

Reason number one? I needed money and Madison Effingham had it. She walked into my office and she exuded money – in the high-end jeans and stylish fur jacket she wore along with the designer shoes and purse. In her perfectly coifed auburn hair and impeccably manicured nails, in the chauffer driven Mercedes that brought her to my rather seedy side of town. Admittedly, like all flight capable cars, it could no longer fly but it was still impressive. Three bodyguards accompanied her.

Reason number two was one that often induced me to take a particular case: someone searching for the only remaining member of their family. On the day of the Event, she lost everyone in her family except her then fourteen-year-old sister, Morgan Effingham. Madison Effingham was the one to find her parents dead along with everyone in the household except her sister. She was a twenty-one-year old college student at the time and she had to handle everything afterwards, including her family’s shipping business.

She didn’t tell me any of this but I knew one of her bodyguards. Buster Trent worked with me clearing rubble and sweeping streets before he left to go to Wilmington at about the time I began tracking. Wilmington was where the Effingham’s lived and did business. He’d joined her army of guards but occasionally came back to Charlotte to visit and we’d get together for drinks. He told me her story some time back and it struck a chord with me. Not the part about handling the business but the one of finding everyone dead. He was probably the one who told her about me.

When she came in, she glanced around my office, which was still in the front of my two-roomed flat over the smoke shop. It was shabby but I kept it clean. She checked out the paintings of Missy’s I hung on the wall studying the one of the window. I changed a couple of them out occasionally though I always kept the one of the window in place. I got compliments on those pictures and questions about the artist. I even had a couple of clients make me an offer, which I respectfully declined, as I had no wish to sell any of my sister’s paintings.

I’d never moved anywhere else because, one, I was comfortable where I was, and two, being the best tracker around had never made me rich. I was fortunate to be able to pay for and keep those two meager rooms, keep my heap of a car cobbled together, and not have to sell my jeep. And, there were the contributions to folk I sometimes made because… well, because they needed it and I had it at the time.

Besides, I lived alone and didn’t need much space. Maybe someday I would trip over a pile of cash or gold and jewels, and get a better place. Or not. I liked the place. Besides, Lowell gave me slack on the rent in lean times.

To her credit, she didn’t turn up her nose at my digs, or assume I would know who she was. I didn’t mention that I did. After we introduced ourselves, and she complimented the window painting, she came straight to the point.

“I don’t live in this city, Mr. Murray. I’m here on business and my sister Morgan came with me on this trip because she has friends that live here that she wanted to see. She’s missing and I have been told that you are the best tracker in the state,” she said after taking the chair I kept in front of my old wooden office desk.

“Yes, I am.”

She stared at me with ice-blue eyes. Then she gave a faint smile.

“You, know, I thought you’d give me some sort of self-effacing, half-assed denial, and say something like “you can’t believe everything you hear”. You’re saying you’ve really found everyone for whom you’ve searched?”

I shrugged. I don’t brag but a fact is a fact. “I have.”

She gave a short nod. “Competence. And, confidence. I like that.” She pulled a photograph from her purse and handed it to me. “This is a recent picture of her.”

I studied the image of the young woman. Pretty. She resembled her sister a lot, the same auburn hair except she wore hers in a pixie cut, and her eyes were brown. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Thirty hours ago. She left to go to a nightclub with a couple of friends, and before you ask, no, I don’t think she’s decided to make herself absent for a while. She’s grown and can do whatever she wants but she either comes home or calls me when she’s not going to make it. She’s never been gone this long without a call.”

I didn’t ask why she hadn’t gone to the police. Like the rest of the government, law enforcement was barely hanging on. Somebody’s adult sister missing for only a little over a day wouldn’t have been anything about which they’d get excited. No matter how prominent the family.

“How’s your relationship with her?” Maybe they didn’t get along.

“We have a good one, Mr. Murray. We’ve always had a good relationship, even before… well, we’ve argued but we always make up, and no, we’ve not had a recent disagreement.”

“Your sister’s not prone to sudden impulses, is she?” She was twenty-one, that was still plenty young and the young could sometimes do really stupid things for which they’re later sorry.

She was shaking her head. “I’m not saying she couldn’t do anything dumb, but Morgs is pretty level-headed. Her impulses are limited to something such as buying three pairs of shoes on a whim, or overindulging in potato chips. Like I said, she’s grown and she’s spent a night away from home on occasion, sometimes more than one, but I want to emphasize: she calls when she does that.”

I studied her. There was a first time for everything, and young females have sometimes done stupid things for, say, a new boyfriend. Still, it didn’t appear she had simply run off. Maybe she was somewhere that didn’t have a phone.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Before taking the case, I gave her my terms and my price – it was best to get that out of the way first – to which she agreed, even to the bit about what happens if I found her sister in a morgue somewhere, or if she didn’t want to come back.

I got a few more facts from her, things that didn’t show in the photograph: height, weight, any birthmarks, tattoos, that sort of thing. She gave me the name of the nightclub to which her sister said she was going, and though she didn’t know where they lived, the names of the friends with whom she had gone. I could start at the club. Perhaps one or the other of those friends would be there again.

I gave her a card with my phone number so she could call me if she heard from her sister, and she pulled out a walkie-talkie and in a few minutes, Buster, now one of her personal bodyguards, stepped in. He grinned as he reached into his jacket and handed me an indecent amount of cash.

“When will you get started, Mr. Murray?” she asked as she prepared to leave.

“Right away, Ms. Effingham.” I didn’t say it to her but when someone has been missing for over a day, someone who always stays in touch but hasn’t, it’s best to move as fast as possible. There was also the fact that they weren’t from Charlotte. That meant the young woman might not be familiar with which sections to avoid.

She studied me, then she smiled. “You may call me “Madison”. May I call you “Tennessee?”

I returned the smile. “Madison it is, and yes, you may.” I saw interest in that look, and yes, she was fine, but I never went to bed with a client. That could cause complications. Especially if the case didn’t end well. “I’ll be in touch.”

I began that evening, as soon as she left, and that night was when I learned of her sister’s probable whereabouts. I’d lucked out at the nightclub and found those two friends of hers. That is, if one could call it luck that I was going to have to go to Blue Heaven.

Her friends, having only recently moved to Charlotte, hadn’t lived here long enough to learn about that particular neighborhood. They didn’t know that it might not be the best place to visit, so therefore, they didn’t advise her not to go. That they didn’t know wasn’t surprising since no one much talked about it.

I knew finding someone in that confusing and shifting place could prove to be difficult, more so than usual, but I’m stubborn about some things. I’d never before cancelled simply because it might get hard, and I didn’t intend to start.

Chapter Twenty

SINCE I WOULD HAVE TO GO AT NIGHT AND getting in through the regular entry after dark posed a problem, that brings me to another disagreeable feature about Blue Heaven: the gully surrounding the place was full of the blighted vegetation that showed up after the Event.

I couldn’t speak for the rest of the world but none of the blighted patches in the city proper were as extensive as that around the Blue Heaven neighborhood, and I’d never run across any that widespread in any other parts of the country to which I’d been, either.

For Blue Heaven, the blight was a six hundred foot wide section of strange withered trees, scrubby weeds, and bare soil. This cheerless band of wasteland encircled the entire neighborhood and set it off from the rest of the city. Other than through the entrance, the only way in was across some section of that strip. Hardly anyone tried going in that way because, going through that grim stretch was almost certain to get you killed.

It meant you not only had to fight your way across six hundred feet of nastiness, but if you made it past that, you had to figure out how to get through, or over, the vine covered eight-foot stone wall that also surrounded the place.

The thought of going into a blighted area wasn’t anything that had ever crossed my mind, nevertheless, the next night, which, since it was January, was miserably cold, I found myself stealing across that piece of nasty. You do what you have to do and I didn’t have a choice as it was my only other way of getting in since I didn’t want to be stopped and questioned, and at the main entrance, there were always a couple of big shit-witted goons occupying the guardhouse twenty-four seven.

How did I think I’d get in unscathed? Note that I said hardly anyone went in through the blight and that you were almost certain not to make it.

I knew of an exception, a man who had gone through the Blue Heaven blight at least three times – and lived. There may have been others but if so I hadn’t heard of them, only about the ones who went in and never came out. So, as far as I knew, he was the only person who ever successfully made the trip through that inhospitable strip of land.

I met him a couple of years before and he wasn’t exactly a pal but we sometimes shot pool together.

“Ain’t no good way ta go slidin’ through that crap, man,” grunted Cue. “Ain’t no best time, neither.”

He uttered those words as he lined up his shot after I asked what would be a good way to go and the best time for slipping in through that stretch of desiccated vegetation.

I didn’t know his real name. “Cue” was what everybody called him because he loved nothing better than shooting pool. I’d gotten him into a game down at “Bob’s”, the bar and pool hall a few doors down the street from the flat I called home and office.

“They’s only bad ways, an’ bad times for doin’ it. Now, a bad time ta do it is durin’ th’ day ‘cause them turds at th’ gate take turns lookin’ over th’ wall an’ taking pot shots at anything that moves, an’ they ain’t th’ only ones keepin’ a eye out for somebody tryin’ ta come in that way. If ya luck up an’ make it to the wall ya will git caught tryin’ ta sneak in an’ that ain’t good. But, they don’t go near th’ wall at night an’ it ain’t watched. ‘Course, th’ worst time ta do it is at night.” He leaned over and took his shot, which was a good one, then stood up and studied me. “But, that’s when ya have ta do it so nobody sees ya creeping yo skinny ass in.”

I had a feeling he was going to say that. “Why’s night the worst time?” I asked. Like I didn’t know.

He finished shooting, and racked up the balls before cocking his baldhead over and squinting at me with one bloodshot gray eye. “You ain’t even gotta ask that, Tenn. You know why. An’ that place is worse than any that little shit we got ‘round th’ city. But, I can tell ya how ta git in, an’ how ta git around th’ worst of it.” He smiled. “Tell ya what, ‘cause I like ya, jist gimme one-fifty an’ ya got it.”

See? Not a pal. But, I knew I’d have to pay him for the information. And Cue never haggled so that was his final price.

I hesitated. A hundred and fifty bucks wasn’t an extraordinary amount of money. In fact, with the latest round of inflation, it was more like having fifty or sixty dollars seven and a half years ago, but it was still a nice piece of change. I got to thinking maybe I could take my chances at the entry. Then, I re-thought. I’d have to tell those tan-uniformed blockheads why I was there and my instincts were telling me that letting them know I was searching for a missing young woman in their neighborhood might not be a good idea.

That might bring out the suit, and I suspected “I’m here for a friendly visit” wouldn’t be likely to cut it, either. In my line of work, you had to be good at lying and I was a decent liar but I knew that, usually, the only people allowed in at night were ones that lived there or someone from law enforcement. You needed a damned good reason and what kind of excuse could I give that would make them let me in without sending for the suit? Given time, I could set up one but I didn’t have a lot of time.

When Madison came to me the evening before, her sister had already been missing for over twenty-four hours so I didn’t want to drag my feet on this. I’d needed a lead but neither of Morgan’s friends knew anyone in Blue Heaven. After I talked to them the night before, I thought of the ex-client whose brother I found in Texas.

I went to find him but wasn’t able to track him down until morning when I caught him on his way to work. Thanks to him, I had that lead. He gave me a name and said I’d have to meet the man at night since he worked during the day. The guy hung out at a particular bar on Friday and Saturday nights. It was now Saturday and I needed to get a move on.

I could’ve tried slipping across the blight that afternoon but it wasn’t safe to cross it in daylight either. After all, the crew that went into one of the small patches in the city did it during the day, and never came out.

Making it through to the wall and getting caught didn’t appeal to me, either. I didn’t know what black suit would do but I was sure it wouldn’t be just a kindly warning to go forth and sin no more. Besides, even if I managed to get in unseen, I’d have to hang around until dark and I didn’t want to be in Blue Heaven any longer than I had to.

I didn’t like the thought but I was going to have to cross that strip and I needed to know how to get it done while remaining in one piece.

My client had given me a respectable retainer – a hell of a lot better than what I’d seen in a long time – and on top of that, allotted a nice amount for expenses. This was not the time to get cheap. I didn’t mind paying for good information and it could’ve been worse: he could’ve charged me more.

This all ran through my head as I studied the pool table. I called the pockets and took my shot and it was a good thing we weren’t playing for money or I’d have been forking over more than the one-fifty I handed Cue. I like to shoot pool and I’m good at it, but not many were as good as Cue – including me.

He grinned, showing what was left of his yellowed and crooked teeth, and pocketed the cash. He set his cue stick down and began talking.

A few minutes into his complicated directions, I stopped him and asked, “Why don’t you go with me as a guide? I’ll pay you.”

He shot me the eye and snorted before saying, “I’ll draw ya a map. I done took my last trip that way. You ain’t got enough money to pay me ta go back ’cross that shit agin.”

Definitely not a pal, but, I understood.

Cue didn’t mention how he figured out how to navigate the strip. I got the feeling it was something he didn’t want to talk about so I didn’t bring it up. As long as it worked, that wasn’t important for me to know.

I also never asked him his reason for going to Blue Heaven at night just as he didn’t ask me why I was going. It wasn’t the sort of question you asked, though he probably guessed I was going to look for someone since he knew I was a tracker. But given that he’d done it more than once I was betting it was because of a woman. Or a good game of pool.

As soon as it was dark, I headed for the strip.

Chapter Twenty-one

I PARKED MY JEEP AT THE EDGE OF THE GULLY, and then half-walked half-slid through the brush and down the side. I stood there checking out the shriveled and lifeless trees, remembering what Cue had said in that whisky-and-cigarette voice of his: “They’s some trails an’ ain’t none of ‘em good but ya use th’ one I tell ya an’ you’ll git there. But ya cain’t jist go bustin’ in all slow an’ noisy. You gotta be fast wit’ it an’ ya gotta keep quiet an’ stay low.”

I took a deep breath and as fast and quietly as I could, set my feet on the path he mapped out for me to follow through the dry foliage and crispy brown weeds.

The minute I started into the place, the clear night lit by a nearly full moon and a starry sky started going dim, and the farther I went the more the light diminished as Blue Heaven’s ever-present haze seemed to roll itself out across the sky like a sheet of dark gauze. I strained my eyes and practically had to feel my way around the dark patches that Cue said to avoid.

I’d asked, “You think those will still be there?”

“Near as I can tell they don’t move. Ev’ry time I went, they was in th’ same spots.”

“Well, what are they?”

“Now how th’ hell I’m gonna know? I damn sho warn’t stupid ‘nough to step in an’ try ‘em out. Jist don’t walk through ‘em!” He glared at me. “Now shut up an’ listen ‘fo yo one-fifty runs out.”

So I’d shut up and listened.

The night was only marginally lighter than the dark patches. They were tough to make out, but what ever they were, they didn’t move. I hoped it stayed that way. I had him go over his crude map several times, and I committed it to memory but the trail was barely discernable and with it being a downhill slope and having to step off the path several times to get around the inky blotches, it was a bitch keeping to it. I’d mentioned that I had a flashlight, but Cue said not to use it.

“No flashlights, no torches. You go usin’ a light an’ th’ wrong thang gonna see it. Keep it off ‘til ya git inside Blue Heaven. It’s okay ta use it then.” For emphasis, he glared at me and sternly added, “But don’ go turnin’ it on befo’!”

I paid for his advice so I left it off.

I kept my mind on my goal and reached the bottom where the gully flattened out, without mishap. I got through the trees and across that, and started up the other side. I estimated I was about two-thirds of the way through when I heard a rustling noise. As Cue told me to do, I stopped still. I held my breath and listened over the sudden loud drumming of my pulse. I tried to pinpoint a direction but the noise stopped and I didn’t see anything so after a second or two, I gulped in cold air and continued up the path.

A few steps later the rustling came back. It was closer. Praying I hadn’t messed up by not keeping still the first time I heard it, I stopped and froze in place.

He’d warned, “You gonna hear and see thangs an’ ya don’t have to stop for everythang but if ya hear a sorta crinklin’ sound like som’thin’s comin’ through dead leaves, stop real still an’ wait. Don’t holler about what ya see. Keep quiet an’ it’ll pass. After that git yo ass to movin’. They’s a bare strip at th’ top when ya git outta th’ trees. Give it a good look ‘fore ya cross, then git to th’ wall an’ find that openin’ quick.”

“What’ll I see?”

“You’ll know if ya see it. Jist be sho ta stop. Had a friend wit’ me last time I went that didn’t.”

“What happened?”

“You don’t wanna know but he ain’t wit’ us no more an’ I ain’t never goin’ back ‘cross that shit.”

My heartbeat slammed in my ears and my breath caught in my throat, as through the trees about ten feet to my right, a long dark undulating shape came slinking down towards me. I held my freeze and it veered off five feet away and went sliding by heading down the way I’d come. I don’t know if it was just me or what but the whole time it was passing, I felt a vibration, a thrumming as if someone was plucking the bass strings of a cello, and all over my body I could feel my hair trying to lift from my skin.

I can’t say how long the… thing… was but it was about seven feet high and maybe five feet wide. There was a double row of rectangular green glowing spots on its front end about where you’d think eyes would be, and what might’ve been a long set of curved horns. It felt like days before it finished rippling its way past and as soon as the tail end of it disappeared into the murkiness of the night, I hustled my quaking ass toward the wall.

I got to the narrow, ten-foot open strip between the trees and the wall only glimpsing a few vague white blobs and what seemed to be a cloud of gnats both of which Cue said I could ignore. I also saw several outlines of dark, people-shaped figures that reminded me of the ones I’d seen the day of the Event. Since he hadn’t mentioned those, and they appeared to ignore me, I ignored them, too.

I stopped, breathing hard. I shivered as an icy breeze fingered its way between my knit cap and the collar of my jacket, chilling the sweat that popped out and trickled down my neck. There was a faint light coming from a streetlamp positioned near the wall. I couldn’t actually see the post, only the light, but Cue said it would be slightly to the left and in front of a tree. It was approximately where he said it would be and with tree branches limned against the light, I was confident that it was what I was looking for. I exhaled with relief. It’s good to know folk who’ll steer you right.

I took a quick glance up and down the stretch into the darkness. I couldn’t see much and debated whether to give my flashlight a brief click but decided not to take the chance. That… thing… might see it and come back.

Realizing I’d been standing there longer than I intended, I pulled up my jacket collar, took a deep breath, and trotted to the vine-covered wall.

I did a fast search among the dead and dried-out kudzu for the break in the wall that Cue drew on the map. It took a minute but I found it and carefully squeezed through the jagged opening.

I came out behind the big tree and stood in its shadow while I took a moment to orient myself – as much as that was possible. Then, ignoring the sting to my eyes, I moved off through the bushes and out into Blue Heaven.

Chapter Twenty-two

THE MOMENT I GOT THROUGH THE WALL, I reflected on how I’d promised myself I would never go back to that neighborhood. Yet, there I was again. So much for self-promises.

As I forged ahead, I discovered another unpleasant facet of Blue Heaven. Unlike during the day when it was quiet and practically empty, vague dark forms roamed the streets and there was an undercurrent of sound that came across as sibilant whispers and shuffling steps. I didn’t think these were regular pedestrians, instead, like the ones in the strip, they reminded me of the dim outlines I’d seen the day of the Event. I did not try to get a good look at them and they didn’t appear to notice me, but it was damned disturbing.

It seemed a whole lot darker than it had to be, and working streetlamps were few and far between. It was a good time to use that flashlight I’d brought along, the one from years ago that I kept for emergencies. It fit better into a pocket but, staring into the gloom, I wished I had brought the larger one of my father’s that I sometimes used when working a case. It cast a larger light and was nice and heavy – which could come in handy if I needed a club for bashing. Ah, well, with a little luck, I wouldn’t have to do any bashing.

I knew the location of the bar where the man I wanted to see hung out, as it was the same one I’d found, the one Adam verified that he also stumbled upon after getting lost in Blue Heaven. As long as I kept its whereabouts in mind, I’d have no problems finding it.

I pulled out the flashlight and switched it on.

After one quick, initial glance around, I concentrated on the bar and kept my gaze straight ahead as I crunched my way through the graveled streets. I ignored the shifting figures and unsettling noises, and in five or six minutes, I turned down an alley and spotted the flickering neon sign that spelled out the small bar’s name.

Had the bar been larger, it would’ve had a lot more wasted space judging by the fast scan I did upon entering the place. Two men sat at one of the small tables; two more at another; and three in the lone front booth. I saw the top of a messy blond head peeking over the booth at the back. Eight. That wasn’t many patrons for a Saturday night, or it wouldn’t have been back in my neighborhood. Of course, it was still early, only around seven-thirty. Maybe it would start filling up later. A lot of folk didn’t like coming into a bar until nine o’clock or so.

On the other hand, I didn’t suppose many would want to roam around Blue Heaven at night. That probably applied even more to women since, unless the blond in the back booth was one, there weren’t any around which was another difference from the bars at home. There, you could always find a few ladies in short skirts or skin-tight pants and heavy make-up, occupying a bar stool and nursing a drink. Usually they were trying to get work. Everyone had their ways of making a few bucks.

I grabbed one of the five stools at the bar and waited for the bartender to come my way. He was the same one from before and he recognized me. He even remembered my name. I wasn’t surprised; they probably didn’t get too many strangers in Blue Heaven. Especially at night.

He came over smiling.

“Well, hello – Tennessee, right? What brings you into the Hole tonight? I see you found us just fine – unless… er, you’re not lost again, are you? Going to get something a little peppier than water this time?”

I chuckled. “No, not lost, and yes, give me a whiskey neat. And Joe, you can call me “Tenn”.

I never drank much before the Event but as I’ve mentioned somewhere before, there was a time afterwards when I drank a lot. I hadn’t been alone in that – quite a few people had. But eventually, inflation set in and for a while, the cost of alcohol went higher than the price of a good hooker. It became very expensive unless you wanted to drink pure bathtub swill or homebrew, and drinking that stuff was slow suicide so I got out of the habit.

Prices eventually dropped though they never returned to a pre-Event state. I still drank from time to time but not as much as before and not as often, especially after I became a tracker. After all, tracking was hard enough cold sober. After the trip I’d just made, though, I felt I could allow myself one drink. It would only be one and not because of the expense but because I never had more than one while working.

Joe nodded and went about pouring my drink. He set it in front of me and watched while I took a sip. I nodded my approval. It was good; real whiskey, a smooth scotch and not some watered down shit. I placed a twenty and five ones on the counter, the price of the drink plus a five dollar tip. He stuck the bills in his apron pocket.

“Good drink.” I eyeballed him. “Would you happen to know where I can find a man by the name of Frank Berger?” I asked quietly. I took another sip keeping it small since I didn’t want to drink it too fast.

He peered over his glasses at me, again reminding me of Dave. He answered as quietly as I’d asked.

“Well, I might, Tenn. Law not looking for him, are they?”

From that question, I figured he knew what kind of work I did. Word gets around, even in Blue Heaven, so I didn’t bother to speculate on how he might know, though, it made me wonder if the police had come looking for Frank Berger before.

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that. I just want to talk to him.”

I didn’t know if he owned the bar but even if he did, from what I could see, like Lowell with the smoke shop, he wasn’t making a fortune from it. I laid a c-note on the counter. He took a swipe at the counter with a towel but didn’t touch the money.

He studied my face for a moment. “Guards give you any trouble at the gate?”

I took another sip of my drink and shook my head. “Didn’t come in that way.”

I understood the question. It was his way of verifying I wasn’t with the police. He knew I didn’t live there and only residents of Blue Heaven, or law enforcement – or somebody working for law enforcement – got in easily through the entrance at night.

One eyebrow went up and he drew in a sharp breath. “You came—”

I nodded. “Across the strip.”

His eyes rounded and he pushed his glasses up his nose. He stared at me in silence for a moment, then he seemed to make up his mind and nodded once. He palmed the c-note.

“In the back,” he said keeping his voice low.

I smiled and stood. “Does that jukebox back there work?”

He nodded and said a little louder, “It takes coins.” He grinned. “And, as a holdover, it’s cheap. If you put in a dollars’ worth of coins, you can play five. Enjoy.”

“Thank you, Joe. Mind if I take my drink back there?”

At his nod, I picked up my glass and headed to the back.

Chapter Twenty-three

I STOOD IN FRONT OF THE JUKEBOX TRYING TO pick out five tunes to which I could stand to listen. I didn’t like most of the recent ones, though there hadn’t been many to come out the last couple of years.

I needn’t have worried. The box was filled with old, pre-Event songs. I carefully chose five. Carefully because there were certain ones I didn’t want to hear. I dropped in four quarters and punched the buttons for the tunes I’d chosen. The lights on the box flashed and the first song began to play. It was an old rap tune from before I was born.

I turned around and not wasting any time, I crossed the small space and set what was left of my drink on the table as I slid into the booth across from the man sitting there gazing sadly at an empty glass.

Startled, he rocked back and stared at me with suspicious eyes. He looked rough, as if he’d been drinking a lot and sleeping little. His color was splotchy and the blue eyes that went with the shaggy blond hair were baggy and bloodshot. I judged him to be late forties or early fifties but you couldn’t always go by looks.

“Frank Berger?” At his tentative nod, I said, “I’m Tennessee Murray.” I reached a hand across the table.

He frowned, his eyes questioning, but he met my outstretched hand with his.

I smiled. “We have a mutual friend.” I gave him my ex-client’s name.

“Oh, yeah. Ain’t seen ‘im in a while,” he said relaxing a little. “How’s he doin’?”

“He’s fine, said to tell you hello.” I took a sip from my glass. “Look, I won’t beat around with this. Just to let you know, I’m not trying to sell you anything. What I need is information and he said you might be able to help me out.” I slid a fifty onto the table.

The music blared around us as he stared at it. Then his eyes flicked back to mine. “You a tracker?”

“Yes.”

Warily: “Warn’t sent by cops, was you?”

“No.”

He studied me for moment. “Who you lookin’ for?” He eyed the fifty again but didn’t try to pick it up.

“A young lady.” I hauled out the picture Madison gave me and held it out to him.

He took it and perused the image. I watched his face. I saw recognition there. My ex-client wouldn’t have given me his name if he had thought the man wouldn’t know something. He said Frank was the nosiest person in Blue Heaven and if anybody had seen the young woman or knew where she might be, he would be the one to see.

“I mightta seen ‘er,” he said handing the picture back. He licked his lips and hesitated.

“What are you drinking?” I asked.

“Vodka on th’ rocks.”

Odd choice. I’d never seen anyone drink straight vodka on the rocks, but to each his own poison. He didn’t appear to be flush with cash, but he’d likely passed on the cheap local made brews most of which, if they were anything like the ones I’d tried a while back, tasted like piss and burned like acid. Vodka was generally cheaper than other regular whiskeys though the ice would take the price up.

I nodded and signaled the bartender while indicating it was for Frank. Joe raised an eyebrow at me and I shook my head. I still had a couple of sips in my glass and once it was gone, I wouldn’t be having another. It was obvious he knew Frank’s favorite, though, as he nodded and clinked ice into a glass, poured from a bottle and brought the drink over. He smiled as he set the glass in front of Frank and placed a bowl of shelled peanuts in the middle of the table.

“Thanks, Joe. How much?” I asked.

“Fifteen. Peanuts are free.”

Not bad. Twelve for the vodka, three for the ice. Moreover, free hors d’oeuvres. I handed him twenty. “Keep the change.”

“You know, if you’re going to be here often, you can run a tab.” He gave me a hopeful grin.

I kind of liked Joe, but my plan was to find Morgan Effingham, get the hell out of Blue Heaven, and never return. I smiled. “That’s nice to know. Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

He nodded and went back to the bar. I turned to Frank who had already knocked back half his drink.

He set the glass down and peered at me. “Ain’t seen you around here before. Been in Blue Heaven long?”

“No. Just got here tonight.”

He frowned. “Guards letcha in?”

“No.” I took a next-to-the-last sip from my glass.

He sat forward drawing in his breath. “Gawddam! Don’t tell me you come through th’ strip!”

“I did.”

“Shi-it!” He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his drink. He shook his head. “You either a crazy sumbitch or you got a lotta balls. Last time I heard of som’body gittin’ through that bitch alive was a feller by th’ name of Cue an’ he’s a crazy muthafucker!”

I grabbed some of the peanuts and chuckled. “Yes, I know him and you’re right. Look, I’m not trying to rush you, but could you tell me when and where you might’ve seen this young woman?” I gauged how drunk he was. Not very. I laid a twenty down on top of the fifty.

He glanced at the money and nodded.

“Yeah. I seen ‘er. Twice. I wouldn’na paid no ‘tention but she was right pretty and warn’t from around here. Almost got lost lookin’ at ‘er. Seen ‘er yesterday morning going down Main and seen ‘er agin ‘bout a quarter to seven tonight. She was with a man. Last I seen of ‘em they was headin’ down Carter Street. They ducked in a house.”

Carter Street. Interesting.

“Any idea of where they might’ve been before you saw them on Carter?”

“Naw, but they turned on Carter off a Main, and that time they was coming up Main.”

“Was she with the same man when you saw her yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there some sort of nightclub down Main?”

“Uh-uh. Ain’t no nightclubs in Blue Heaven, man, jist bars. You wanna go to a club you gotta go out in th’ city.”

I thought for a moment then asked, “Did she appear to want to be with him?” The two people that were at the nightclub with her Thursday, said she was flirting with a man and she left willingly with him. She told them he was taking her to a club in Blue Heaven. One of her friends had seen him around before and said he thought the guy was okay. But, this man, whoever he was, had lied to her. There was no nightclub. And, there was the fact that she’d not come home or contacted her sister since then, something the elder Ms. Effingham said was not usual.

He shifted around. “Well, she warn’t smilin’ if that’s whatcha mean, but she didn’t look like she was tryna git away from ‘im, either. ‘Course, not bein’ from around here she mightta been scared a gittin’ lost if she ditched ‘im.”

That could be the case, especially if she’d tried to leave him before, thereby learning about that particular hazard of being in Blue Heaven.

“You wouldn’t happen to know the address on Carter Street would you?”

“Naw, but it was th’ big house on th’ corner. Ever’body knows that house.”

That was even more interesting. It was the one to which I’d made the deliveries for Adam.

“Who lives there?”

“Name’s Arthur Bennett and he ain’t down there a whole lot but he works at th’ Semptor. He ain’t no medical but ever’body calls ‘em Dr. Bennett.”

Doctor? I wondered about that but it wasn’t important at the moment.

Frank added, “He warn’t th’ man with ‘er, though.”

That didn’t surprise me.

“Did you recognize the man she was with?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I seen ‘im around. I don’t know ‘im real good but he lives ‘round on Spruce. Works at the Semptor, too. Jist ‘bout ever’body ‘round here does, ‘cept a few, like Joe.”

I nodded.

“Do you know what this guy does there?”

“Naw. See, I work there but I don’t much know what most a them folk do ‘cept th’ packers an’ loaders. I jist pack shit an’ put it on a truck. Sometimes in th’ spring, one of ‘em will have me put down some more gravel on th’ streets.”

So, it was Semptor who was providing that ankle-turning paving. And whoever this guy with Morgan was, he wasn’t simply a packer.

“Could you describe him for me?”

“Hmm, well he’s a young feller, kinda tall maybe not as tall as you, but bigger n’ you. He’s got light brown hair an’ blue eyes.” His bleary eyes brightened for a second and he said, “Hey, in case you need it, his name’s Ken Talbert.”

That sounded like the man with whom Morgan had left. Her friends hadn’t remembered his name, though. I was going to have to thank my ex-client again, for sending me to this nosy man.

“Thanks, Frank. Now, can you remember what they were wearing when you saw them today?”

“Well, didn’t pay much ‘tention to what he was wearin’.” He gave a sheepish grin showing yellowed but straight teeth. “I was too busy lookin’ at th’ girl. She had on th’ same clothes both times I seen ‘er – tight purple pants and a short yellow jacket. Had on a purple knit hat.” His forehead wrinkled, then he said, “I ain’t sure what else Talbert had on but he was wearin’ a blue leather jacket both times. Wouldn’t’ve noticed that ‘cept it was a peculiar shade a blue.”

“Did they come back out of the house on Carter?”

“Naw, not that I saw. They prob’ly still there – ‘less’n they come out in th’ last hour. Folk don’t much wanna walk around here at night.”

“Have you ever seen this Talbert guy at the doctor’s house before?”

“Yeah, I seen ‘im there a coupla times.”

“Good. Describe Dr. Bennett for me.”

“Nice old gent with gray hair, gray eyes, wears coke-bottle glasses, ‘bout my height but skinnier. He’s kinda quiet but he’s friendly enough, he always speaks to me.”

That pretty much described the man who’d taken the deliveries, though his “gray” hair was a matter of opinion. My hair was gray; his was more of a Santa Clause white. If he were fatter with a beard, he would be a dead ringer.

“Anybody else live there?”

“Naw, old guy lives alone. Got a housekeeper what comes in a couple times a week to clean, but she ain’t there on Saturday’s.”

My ex-client was right. Frank certainly was nosy.

The fact that they’d gone into the house on Carter could be a simple matter of Talbert getting lost. Even if he knew how to navigate around the neighborhood, I supposed it could be a case of him having gotten distracted, perhaps by Morgan, and therefore lost, and they’d gone into the house of someone he knew seeking shelter until he could get reoriented. Nevertheless, I wondered if there might be something more involved.

I nodded and tipped my head towards the cash on the table. He grinned and walked his fingers over, and hauled it in.

I drained the last of my drink, set the glass down, and slid from the booth. The next to last song I’d chosen on the jukebox began playing.

“Hey! Were you goin’?” he looked up at me.

“I need to talk to the young lady, Frank, so I’m going to Carter Street.”

“Hey man, you oughta not go back out there! You got here okay this time but— wait a min, you ever been here befo’?”

“Yes, twice.”

He studied me. “Oh. So, you know how not to git lost.”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Well, okay. You done come ‘cross th’ strip an’ I reckon you ain’t gonna git lost. But be careful. Things a l’il different here at night. There’s, um… things. Don’ let ‘em git to you. They’s jist, um… shadows and they don’t bother nobody but they kin make you fergit where you goin’.”

I nodded. “Yes, I saw the figures. I also heard… noises.”

The dark outlines I’d seen on the day of the Event were silent, and I never saw any after that day until going across the strip. Like other elements of our city, I guessed the leftovers were more intense in Blue Heaven.

Though folk didn’t much talk about them, I was curious, so I asked, “Is it those that’s making the sounds?”

He looked puzzled but then shrugged. “Never thought about it but I guess so. Jist you be careful. Don’t pay no ‘tention to them noises. That can make you git lost, too.”

“I’ll be okay.” I reached down and shook his hand. “Thanks for the information, Frank. You’ve been very helpful.”

As I went past the bar, Joe was mopping down the counter. He looked up and said, “Leaving?”

“Yes. There’s something I have to do.”

“Don’t want me to fix you a sandwich or something before you leave, do you? I won’t charge you for it.”

I shook my head smiling, remembering the old family joke about my never having to go hungry. I evoked that in a lot of folk. Even in ones who’d not known me for long, or that I’d just met. Joe was merely one of the latest. Possibly, so was Frank. It had been that way all my life, I’ve never known why. On reflection, that could’ve been one reason I was so good at tracking. Folk tended to want to help me out. And feed me. Sometimes I didn’t even have to offer a bribe to get them to talk.

I didn’t take it for granted though because there were always a few it didn’t seem to affect, like the bastard who broke my nose. And, those guards at the gatehouse hadn’t appeared to be fond of me either, but usually, it worked. I didn’t question it.

He looked worried as he studied my face. “You be careful out there, Tenn.”

I smiled. “I’ll be as careful as I can, Joe.”

I went out into the cold night that was full of shifting outlines and whispering voices.

Chapter Twenty-four

CARTER STREET WAS ABOUT FIVE MINUTES from the bar. I oriented myself, mapped out the route in my head, fixed it firmly, and headed for the alley’s exit.

Ignoring the whispering shadows around me, I reached the house and stood across the street. I studied it looking for movement. I didn’t see any. The row of upstairs windows was dark but light glowed behind the curtained ones on the bottom to the right. It was only around eight-fifteen and even in Blue Heaven that would be early for bedtime, so I hoped that meant whoever was there hadn’t gone to bed and was lolling around downstairs. I hoped it also meant Ken Talbert and Morgan Effingham were still inside lolling with them.

As I went over my options, I noticed a security camera in a corner over the door. Aimed outward at the moment, if anyone was monitoring the thing, they may have already spotted me. I needed to decide fast. I could watch the house to see if Talbert came out with Morgan, and stop them to see if she really wanted to be with him and if so, tell her that her sister was worried and that she needed to call. Or, I could take action if this was an abduction.

I glanced around. Watching the front wouldn’t be a problem. There were plenty of places from which I could do that but if they decided to make a back exit, I saw no good position from which to watch both entrances. I would have to search for a location that covered both. I did another quick scan hoping to see a likely spot that could be put to that use and saw a possibility, but then, a gust of icy wind wrapped itself around me, teasing the back of my neck just as a couple of the shadowy figures whispered past. That settled it. There was no guarantee they were still there and if so would be leaving anytime soon, so I could be out in the cold watching for a long time. I decided on a frontal approach.

I crossed the street, and a light on the porch that was apparently motion-activated blinked on as soon as I started down the driveway. I stepped up to the door and gave the bell a firm push. In a few seconds, I heard footsteps and a shadow fell across the frosted sidelights of the door. Whoever it was had undoubtedly gotten a good look at me on the surveillance system and from the sound of it, decided to come to the door.

The porch light in my eyes and the one behind him from inside obscured him slightly, but when he opened the door, I recognized the man to whom I had delivered the brown envelopes. He stared out at me through his thick lenses with his eyebrows raised.

“Yes? May I help you?” His voice seemed a little edgy.

I’d not given him my name when I made those deliveries and I didn’t know if he would remember seeing me, but reasoned it was better to start with an alias. I put on my best face and most respectful tone.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb your evening. My name is Alvin Smith, and I’m searching for someone, a young lady, and I was told she might be here.”

He gave no indication that he recognized me. Perhaps he didn’t. Though he’d seen me twice, both instances were brief.

His head turned slightly to the left and his eyes flicked in that direction for a fraction of a second, then he said, “Well, Mr. er, Mr. Smith—”

A male voice came from behind him, “Hey, don’t make him stand out in the cold, Doc. Let Mr. Smith in.”

A man who’d obviously been listening, stepped from a room on the right down the short foyer, and stood looking toward us. Dr. Bennett dipped his head and motioned for me to come in.

It was cold but I wasn’t going in. “Thank you, sir, but I only need to verify whether the young lady is here or not.”

He opened his mouth but again the man interrupted him. Ken Talbert I presumed. The light shone on him and I could see him clearly. He matched the description. He appeared to be around twenty-one, maybe twenty-two, certainly no older than twenty-three. And he was cocky.

“If you’re looking for Morgan Effingham, yeah, she’s here.” He glanced to his right smiling and holding out his hand. “Come here, baby, somebody’s looking for you.” He pulled her alongside himself and ran his arm around her shoulders.

She stiffened. She folded her arms and didn’t look at him. She looked exactly like her picture only she was smiling in the picture.

I noted that the doctor looked startled and shot a quick look at Talbert but he said nothing.

I smiled at her. “Hello, Morgan. I’m a friend of your sister’s. She hasn’t heard from you in a while and sent me to see if you are all right.”

Morgan said in a voice that carried a tense note, “I’m okay, Mr. Smith.” She cut her eyes to Talbert who was keeping his on me and didn’t notice. “Tell Maddy I’ll call her. Soon.” She flicked her eyes back to me and came out with a half-smile.

I nodded. “Okay, Morgan. I’ll let her know. Be sure and make that call, though. She’s really worried.”

Talbert was smiling. He gave Morgan a squeeze and said, “We just met, you know, and we’re taking time to get to know each other. But I’ll see to it that she remembers to make the call.”

The doctor glanced at him then back at me, and said, “It was nice meeting you Mr. Smith.”

“Yeah, nice meeting you,” said Talbert giving an unsmiling Morgan another squeeze. He looked smug.

I smiled, nodded, and stepped back. The doctor closed the door as I aimed myself in the direction of the bar.

Chapter Twenty-five

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, FROM MY PERCH ON the opposite side of the street four houses up – and freezing my ass off while lying atop a detached garage next to a darkened house – I watched as a man in a brown jacket and tan pants came down Main on foot, turned on Carter, and approached Dr. Bennett’s house.

He leaned in and rang the bell. The door opened and he spoke to someone inside. In a moment, Talbert stepped out with Morgan in tow. He nodded at brown jacket and said something to Morgan then shot a look at the door where the doctor stood, and nodded. The doctor closed the door. They were too far away for me to make out their words but I didn’t think Morgan had responded to whatever he’d said to her. The three of them moved off towards Main and turned right.

This called for a change of plans. Only an idiot wouldn’t have seen that Morgan didn’t want to be with Talbert, and though he’d seemed to think so, I’m not an idiot. He could’ve remained quiet and never said anything when I came to the door but having seen how arrogant the guy was, I wasn’t surprised he told the doctor to invite me in. I had the feeling he wanted to prove how much he was in charge of the situation. Or he was simply stupid.

Originally, I was going to follow them until they got far enough away from Carter Street, and then advise Talbert that it would be in his best interest to let the girl go. There were a couple of times in the past when I had to get someone away from an abductor, so I was prepared to do that if necessary. If he objected, I thought I could persuade him.

The other man showing up was an added wrinkle. From what he was wearing, he was a guard and they always carried a gun, plus he was a big beefy guy. I’d have to handle this with a bit more finesse since Talbert was certain to have a gun, too. I hurried as fast as my three-quarters frozen body would take me down the ladder I’d used to climb to the roof of the garage.

With movement, I began to thaw by the time I got down to the corner. I spotted Talbert’s almost neon blue jacket as they passed under one of the scarce streetlamps. Less bright was Morgan’s jacket, which was more of a mustard than bright yellow. She walked between the two and the brown jacket of the guard was an almost invisible blur. Talbert had her by the hand but she appeared to be leaning away from him. They reached the block where Spruce Street abutted Main. I thought they would turn down Spruce, toward his place, but they kept going straight. A couple of dark outlines wandered near them, and Morgan flinched but Talbert and the guard ignored them. I supposed they were used to them and didn’t want to get lost.

Neither did I so I kept my eyes on him and got as close as I felt was safe. Morgan took a quick look behind them as the dim figures moved by, and it was too dark to see her expression but if she saw me, she made no indication to Talbert or the guard. The sidewalk was in decent shape with not much noise-producing debris lying about, so because they were concentrating on their destination, I was confident they wouldn’t hear me. With the streetlamp receding behind us, in the event either of them chanced looking back, I kept near the buffer trees at the edge of the walkway so that I would be harder to spot. They approached the side road that led to Semptor Labs.

I didn’t know if Semptor Labs was their target but even if it wasn’t, that was a deserted road and it wouldn’t be good to allow them to take Morgan down that path so I increased my speed.

I was within five feet when my foot scraped a rock on the sidewalk. Talbert whipped around, his eyes going round when he saw me.

“Wha—”

I moved fast covering the last few feet, and “finessed” my booted foot into the side of his right kneecap, hard. He yelled and fell to the ground grasping his leg, and Morgan jumped away from him.

The surprised guard hollered, “What the fuck?” and grabbed at Morgan who had the good sense to scramble away from him.

He was fumbling at the holster on his side when I plowed into him and deliberately banged my head underneath his chin. As he started going down, I finished getting his sidearm out for him. He hit the ground hard falling on his ass, and went over backward banging the back of his head. He lay still. At the same time Morgan yelled, “Look out!” and I whirled around to see Talbert, who’d quit yelling about his leg, pulling a gun from a jacket pocket. Before he could bring it up, I clicked the safety off the guard’s gun and aimed it at his head.

“Put it down,” I said.

With his eyes on the .45, he laid his gun on the sidewalk.

“Slide it to me.”

He gave it a shove and it fetched up against my boot. Keeping my eyes and the gun trained on him, I picked it up. I almost snorted at the little .25. I thought he’d have something bigger. No wonder he gave it up so quickly. Had he shot me with it, unless something outlandish happened – like, say, he managed to hit me in an eye – I would’ve blown him away with the .45. Apparently, he was smart enough to know that. I slid it into a jacket pocket. He sat there glowering at me. Morgan stood gazing down at him from about four feet away.

“Morgan,” I said quietly. “I was informed that you left with this man willingly. Do you still want to be with him?” I didn’t think I was wrong, but one could never tell.

Her face tightened as she pulled her eyes away from Talbert. “No! Well, I admit I wanted to go with him when we left to come here but that changed. I would’ve said something at Dr. Bennett’s house but he saw you on the surveillance monitor and said if you came in and I said anything he would shoot you. I was afraid he might shoot me, too.” She looked up at me, her eyes puzzled. “How did you know? I was too scared to say anything that might set him off. After you left I just knew you’d go back and tell Maddy I was shacked up with him and everything was okay.”

I shrugged. “Your body language. It implied that you were… not happy.”

She eyed Talbert again and frowned. She began to talk fast, her tone accusatory. “He said he knew where there was an open-all-night club. I wanted to have some fun, and I thought he was cute and funny, so we went to his place first and had some drinks, and we… um,” her face colored and she puffed out a breath, “we decided not to go to the nightclub after all. We fell asleep.

“When I woke up, it was morning, so I asked him if he had a phone. I wanted to call my sister. He said he didn’t have one but he’d take me to a phone booth after we got dressed. While I was in the bathroom, I heard a noise and when I stuck my head out, he was leaving the bedroom. He had it dialed down to its lowest setting but I know a ringing phone when I hear it. I went back into the bedroom and he was still in the other room talking to somebody. I felt something was shifty, I mean why would he tell me he didn’t have a phone when he did? So I hurried up and finished dressing then I slipped out while he was still on the phone, but I got lost.”

She sighed. “I was going to find a phone booth so I could call my sister but I couldn’t find one and I couldn’t find my way back to the entrance no matter how hard I tried. Did you know most of the streets here are graveled? Walking is awful! Then, wouldn’t you know, I found myself back in front of his place! I don’t know how I got there but he was standing out front and took me inside. I told him I had to go to the bathroom and I sneaked out the window but, dammit! I got lost again. That time, he found me. He was in his car and when we drove towards the entrance, I thought he was taking me to the hotel, but he parked over on the side and made me get out, and we walked back down to his place.”

It was more than I needed to know but it verified that he’d held her against her will. Obviously, Talbert didn’t tell her about Blue Heaven’s peculiarity or how to navigate the place without getting lost. I shook my head. Kid was simply trying to have fun and unfortunately ran into an asshole.

The only thing I said was, “There are no nightclubs in Blue Heaven, Morgan.” Might not be any phone booths, either, or if there were, I hadn’t seen any when I was wandering around lost.

That seemed to set her off. She glared down at Talbert, and her face bunched up in anger. “You bastard! I thought you were someone I could trust! You lying sack of—”

We needed to get going so I cut in, “Come on, Morgan, we have to go.”

Fuming, she shut up, and dashed around Talbert, coming up beside me.

I studied Talbert, who looked less smug than he had earlier. The guard, stretched out on the sidewalk, gave a soft moan.

Morgan glanced at him and then back at me with raised eyebrows. “Hey, you head-butted that guy pretty hard. Are you okay?”

I smiled. “I’m good, Morgan. I have a hard head so that maneuver didn’t hurt me much.”

Talbert looked up at me, narrowed his eyes, and huffed out with false bravado, “Where do you think you can go, Smith? Yeah, I know you must be a tracker, but you lucked out getting to the doc’s house. You don’t live here so you don’t know this place. You’re gonna get lost.”

I raised an eyebrow at Talbert. The things people assume. I gestured at his knee. “One thing’s sure; you won’t be chasing me, will you.”

He tried to move the leg I’d kicked, and winced. “You broke my goddamned leg!” he whined.

My kick can take a toll and his kneecap might be dislocated, and I had broken a knee that way before, though never a leg. His leg might be twanging from the jolt but I didn’t think anything was broken. He’d limp for a minute but he’d be okay as soon as it quit hurting.

I suppose it didn’t take much for him to guess that I was a tracker. After all, who else would Morgan’s sister send to find her? But he didn’t appear to know which tracker, which meant he didn’t know my real name. Neither did the guard, who’d come around enough to struggle to a sitting position. He wasn’t one who’d been at the neighborhood entrance either of the other times I came to Blue Heaven. He was breathing hard and staring up at me, his eyes big and glassy. He rubbed the back of his head where he’d whacked it when he fell, and blood ran from the corner of his mouth and trickled down his chin. I gathered he’d bitten his tongue.

I started to turn to Morgan but caught a motion from the guard. I swung back. He’d pulled out a walkie-talkie. I pointed the gun at him. “Toss it over,” I told him quietly.

He threw it hard, apparently in an attempt to either hit me with it or make me drop the gun. On the other hand, since he was staring at the gun, maybe he was simply scared. But I think he was still a bit out of it otherwise he might’ve made a better throw. I caught it with my free hand and stuck it in a pocket. The guard’s shoulders slumped as Morgan reached out her purple-gloved hand and caught mine.

Talbert looked up at me, his eyebrows crashing together in a scowl. “You can’t get out of Blue Heaven, tracker. There’s only one way out and if you make it to the entrance, they’ll be on you like fleas on a dog at the guardhouse. I don’t know what you told them to get in, but you’ll never get outta here with Morgan. They want her, you know.”

Morgan threw in, a worry frown crinkling her smooth forehead, “He said something about that earlier, Mr. Smith. I kept asking him to take me home but he wouldn’t. I was afraid to sneak off again, and we stayed at his place ‘til this evening. Then the phone rang and after he hung up, he said he was taking me to Dr. Bennett’s. He wouldn’t tell me why but said we were going there to wait for somebody. Then, right before he spotted you on the monitor, the phone rang and the doctor answered it and when he hung up he told Ken that somebody named Henderson had decided he wanted me brought to him instead, and he was sending a guard along as an escort.”

That brought me up short. So, this was more than just a horny asshole trying to hang on to a pretty woman. Once I learned from Frank that Talbert had taken Morgan to the house on Carter Street, I’d wondered if this might be something more than two lost people seeking shelter. It would appear that it was much more.

I ignored his belief that I wouldn’t get out of Blue Heaven, but what gave me pause was his statement that “they” wanted Morgan, coupled with Morgan’s that someone wanted Talbert to bring her to him. I made another change of plans.

“Who wants her?”

From the look on his face, he knew he’d said more than he should have, but the idiot defiantly plowed on.

“Somebody at the Semptor, that’s who. They’ll get her, too.”

“Who? Dr. Bennett?” I didn’t think that was likely, but…

“Nah, not him, our boss.”

“What’s your boss’s name?”

He looked at me as if he were trying to decide whether to tell me or not. I was about to give him some words of encouragement, when evidently he decided on “tell”, so he shrugged and said, “Julius Henderson.”

It was probably the same Henderson Morgan mentioned but I’d never heard the name. “Why?” I asked.

He looked at me with a blank face. “Why what?”

“Why does your supervisor want her?” I asked patiently.

“Oh. I don’t know.” He gave a slight shrug. “He said to get friendly with her and bring her to him, so I did.” He looked at her and smirked. “We got real friendly.”

Shit for brains. Or maybe it was because he was young and didn’t know any better. I’d started to hand the guard’s gun to Morgan but was glad I hadn’t. She might’ve shot him.

She stiffened and glared at him, and her pretty face grew ugly with outrage.

“You fucking jerk!” she yelled, pulling away from my hand. All I could see was a blur of purple as she threw one hand on a hip and commenced to shaking the other one at his face, and lit into him with many, many more words.

He leaned away from her wrath, his eyes stretched wide as he gawped up at her.

I think she actually scared him for a minute with the promise that if he smirked one more time she would de-ball him and feed them to her cat. Then his face turned red at one particular phrase that included the words “dickless, fake, motherfucker” (exclamation point) and the rather vehement statement that she’d had a better time with her vibrator (another exclamation point). The girl had a mouth. She even used a couple of terms I’d never heard.

I kept a straight face. I could understand her fury, and he definitely deserved it, but the night was cold and as educational and entertaining as her rant was, I didn’t have time to keep standing there, so after a minute, I caught her waving hand and tugged it, cutting off her tirade.

“Come on, Morgan. We have to go.”

She stopped cussing out Talbert and turned to me breathing hard. Her face was bright red and her lips tightened into a straight line but she jerked out a nod.

Talbert, his face also red, probably at some of the things she’d called him, and the guard who was sitting there with a stunned expression and an open mouth, watched in silence as we turned and headed back up Main.

Part Four: A Small Gray Dot

Chapter Twenty-six

BY THE TIME WE REACHED CARTER STREET, Morgan had cooled down, though her face was still tight. She had been silent while we walked but she finally spoke.

“Would you really have shot Ken, or that guard?”

I glanced down at her. “Yes.”

She raised an eyebrow and started to say something further but stopped and looked confused as I turned off Main and made for Dr. Bennett’s house. Realizing where we were going, she hung back, though she kept her grip on my fingers. She frowned.

“Why’re we coming back here, Mr. Smith? Dr. Bennett will see us and call his boss!”

“No, he won’t. He was as scared as you were, Morgan. I don’t think he knew about your abduction when his supervisor called him to say he was meeting Talbert at his house. At some point, though something raised his suspicions.” I smiled. “And, my name’s not Alvin Smith.”

“What?” She peered at me, eyes narrowed. “Who are you, then? Did my sister really send you to find me?”

We stepped up on the porch and before I could answer her or ring the bell, the door opened. Dr. Bennett stood there peering out at us. Smart man. He was watching and waiting for us. He looked relieved.

“Good. You’re as observant as I thought you were. Hurry, get in here!” he said as he hustled us in and closed and locked the door. He led us through the foyer and into his livingroom.

He indicated we should sit on the couch. As I checked out the room, I noted the surveillance monitor sitting on a stand in the corner. It had a split screen showing four different outside images. One was from the front of the house, another looked out on Main Street, another pointed toward the back yard, and the fourth showed the space between the doctor’s house and the one next door. The cameras had night vision. Very sophisticated. Only the rich could afford to have such a set up in these deteriorating times. Of course, judging by the size of his house, Dr. Bennett wasn’t poor.

“I wasn’t sure that you recognized me, sir,” I said to the doctor.

“Of course I recognized you. I have an eidetic memory,” he said as he lowered himself into a big armchair opposite us and settled back. “Do you know what that is?”

I nodded.

Morgan piped up, “I know what it is, Doctor. It means you remember things well.”

Dr. Bennett nodded. “You are nearly correct, young lady. However, it is not merely “well”. People with this type of memory remember things completely.” He smiled faintly. “It is useful but can sometimes be annoying as there are things one doesn’t always wish to recall.” He shrugged. “It is something with which I’ve learned to live. Now, Mr. Smith, I must tell you that when we noticed you on the monitor, I at first assumed that you were merely lost and remembered having made deliveries to this house, so when you started for my door, I thought you only wanted directions. Imagine my surprise when you asked about the young woman.”

Morgan sat forward. “Wait, Dr. Bennett. He says his name is not Alvin Smith. I want to know why he said it was and who he really is.” She turned to me, eyebrows raised.

I nodded. “My name is Tennessee Murray, and as Talbert said, I’m a tracker, and yes, your sister hired me to find you. I gave a false name because a number of people know my real one, and I couldn’t be sure the doctor, or whoever else might be here, hadn’t heard it.”

“Okay, I get that. So why did you bring me back here instead of taking me to Maddy?” She indicated the doctor with her head. “What if he’s in on whatever his boss wants me for? I mean, he let Ken in when we got here and all he said was this Henderson guy called and would be here to meet him as soon as he could. Then, when the man called back, the doctor told Ken that Mr. Henderson said to bring me to him. He didn’t act as if he was surprised about it and he never asked Ken what was going on, so I thought he knew and—”

“I repeat, Morgan. I don’t think he’s in on it, otherwise I would never have brought you back here. I came back because I want to talk to him to see if he can think of any reason why this man would want you.” I peered at the doctor.

The doctor cleared his throat and addressed Morgan, first. “My dear, believe me when I say that I did not have a part in your abduction. Indeed, I was not aware that you had been. That’s why when Talbert arrived with you, I left the two of you alone most of the time. I assumed that you were merely his latest conquest and that he brought you with him because he would be taking you home after his meeting with our supervisor. Indeed, I was unaware that Henderson was interested in seeing you. I was under the impression he was only to meet here with Talbert. It’s not usual for my supervisor to meet someone here but not unprecedented as he has done it twice before.

“I was surprised when Henderson called back and indicated that Talbert was to bring you to him and said he would send a guard along as an escort. Even then, I wasn’t aware of the circumstances. It was when Talbert made his threat, which he couldn’t have known I heard as I wasn’t in the room at the time, that I became suspicious, and indeed, alarmed. I realized at that point, that you were his unwilling companion. I was fearful he would do something reckless had he known I’d overheard what he said to you. As you can see, I am not a young man so it would have been foolish of me to confront him, still, had not Mr. Murray come by, I was prepared to contact the authorities as soon as you were gone. And, to his credit, when he arrived, it seems Mr. Murray saw that I was perturbed, just as he saw you didn’t want to be with Talbert.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know who you were. As you may recall, Talbert only introduced you to me as “Morgan”. I only heard your last name after Mr. Murray arrived. I must say that I was quite unsettled. I’m so sorry you had to go through that but it was the only thing I could think to do.”

He turned to me and smiled. “I didn’t think you looked like an “Alvin”, and I like “Tennessee” much better. Now, then; I imagine you have some questions for me.”

I mused that the man wasn’t as taciturn as he’d appeared when I made those deliveries.

“Yes, I do, sir. But first, I need to explain a couple of more things to Morgan.” I turned to her. “I haven’t taken you to your sister yet because, since I didn’t come in through the entrance, getting out of Blue Heaven is going to be difficult. I came back here for two reasons: one, this will be the last place that whoever wanted you kidnapped will think to have anyone look, and two, this is turning out to be more than a simple case of “girl goes off with boy and forgets to call home”.

“Now ordinarily, I’d take you home – or take word of your whereabouts – collect the rest of my fee and that would be the end of it. Since the guy held you against your will, I would report it to local law enforcement because that is something they would handle. In this case, from what Talbert said, you might come up missing again and I want to know why. Tracking is how I make my living and I need the money I make from finding folk, but I don’t like Blue Heaven and I’d rather not have to come back here to look for you again, and they might get to you before our overburdened law enforcement can get on it. To avoid that, I’ll have to eliminate the reason if I can.”

She sat back. “Oh.” Then she straightened up again. “Hey, wait a minute! Ken said there’s only one way in and out of here! If that’s true, how did you get in? And he never would tell me why I kept getting lost. What’s up with that anyway? Why can Ken, and you, get around here but I can’t?”

The doctor shot me a solemn look. “You came across the strip?”

I nodded. “Yes. I didn’t want to use the entrance. They ask too many questions.”

Morgan frowned. “What’s the strip?”

“You’ve heard of the blighted areas?”

She nodded. “There’s one back home but nobody goes into it. I think somebody got killed in it so there’re warning signs posted.”

“Charlotte has five, six with the rather nasty, big one encircling Blue Heaven. Going through it is the only other way in or out. It’s dangerous but the guards don’t watch it at night.”

Dr. Bennett leaned forward eagerly. “What did you see? What—”

“Sir, I’ll tell you about it later. And, Morgan, I don’t know why people get lost in Blue Heaven but you can avoid it if you keep your destination in mind and don’t get distracted. Now, I have some questions I need to ask the doctor.”

She gave a reluctant nod and settled back.

“Well, I know why people get lost here,” said the doctor. I stared at him. That was startling, though it wasn’t one of the questions I had for him. He gave a dry chuckle at my expression. “I know, you want to know why anyone would want to kidnap this lovely young woman, and I think I know why. It’s something I deduced once I heard her last name and reasoned who she must be. And, if you’re wondering exactly what type of doctor I am, it’s not medical. I have a PhD in physics.” He shrugged. “I’m sure that makes you wonder why I’m working for Semptor Labs.”

Well. In truth, I wasn’t wondering about that, though now that he’d mentioned it… Still, while all of that was interesting, the only thing I needed to know at the moment was why someone who was obviously as high up in the company as Henderson would want to kidnap a young woman. It was reasonable to assume Semptor Labs paid him enough to buy the affections of all the women he wanted if that was what he was after.

“Yes, sir. Uh, why would your supervisor want Morgan?”

“All right. I understand your urgency in this matter. But it all eventually ties in, you know. However, I’ll get to that later. Henderson wants to hold young Ms. Effingham hostage. Now, of course he didn’t tell me that but I’ve made that deduction because I happen to know he’s not happy with her sister.”

Morgan, looking mystified, said, “Huh?”

That was my first reaction, too, only she beat me to the “huh”. What I said was, “What does Semptor Labs have to do with Madison Effingham… oh, wait.” It struck me. “This has to do with Effingham Shipping, doesn’t it? Only, how?”

Morgan said, “Wait a minute. Maddy likes to work personally with a company on the big deals, which is why we came to Charlotte. She brought along a couple of our company’s lawyers to negotiate some kind of shipping contract.” She shrugged. “I don’t pay too much attention to that kind of thing though Maddy keeps saying I need to. I just came along because I wanted to see a couple of old friends who moved to Charlotte.”

She looked thoughtful for minute. “I guess Maddy’s right and I ought to start paying more attention because I didn’t even know it was Semptor Labs she was trying to cut a deal with, but she told me Thursday morning that things weren’t going well and that we were leaving Monday, whether she got a contract or not.

“She said the company’s negotiator is being an ass— oh, pardon, Dr. Bennett — he’s being stubborn, and she said she wanted the deal but not under their terms. Hey, it’s not as though we’re hurting for business, you know. We’re doing all right with other companies since everything on the mainland ships by truck and we have the largest fleet around. Heck, we even have ships for river and overseas transport, and Maddy is thinking about investing in one of the new sailing ship companies since ship engines seem to be—”

I cut her off because the part of her rambling statement about Semptor’s negotiator being stubborn raised my hackles. I had no idea what type of terms would be involved, but if they would kidnap Morgan to use as a bargaining chip, what else might they do? Especially once they learned she had escaped. I pointed to the phone next to the monitor. “Doctor, I need to use your phone.”

He stared at me. Then his eyes widened as it hit him, too, and he said while getting up, “You don’t want to use that one. Come with me. You, too, Ms. Effingham,” he added when she shot him a questioning look.

He moved fast for an old man. Morgan and I hurried after him down a hall – with Morgan protesting that the doctor didn’t have to keep calling her “Ms. Effingham, just Morgan will do” – where we came to a door that opened into a room that held bedroom furniture. I glanced at the phone on a nightstand but he shook his head and strode over to a door that turned out to be a walk-in closet.

He shoved aside clothing on a rack and behind it was a panel. He pushed what looked like a painted over nail-head and the panel slid aside. It opened into a room wider than it was long and held a lot of electronic devices including another, bigger, surveillance monitor that showed a three-eighty of the outside including an overhead view of Blue Heaven’s occluded skies. It also looked out into various places in the house. There was one of the livingroom indicating where the doctor might’ve been when he overheard Talbert. There was also a row of computers, some equipment mounted on a wall that I didn’t recognize, and several phones.

Damn.

I glanced at Morgan. Her eyes were big and her mouth had dropped open.

I swallowed my own amazement and asked, “All the phones work?”

“Yes. Hurry and make your call and I’ll explain.”

When she saw the phones, Morgan, who still hadn’t caught on, said, “Oh! May I call my sister?”

“Wait.” By then I’d already lifted the nearest receiver and was keying in the number to Madison’s hotel suite. “Don’t worry. I’m calling her now,” I said to her baffled expression.

Madison picked up after only one ring. Her voice sounded tense. “Yes?”

“Madison, Tennessee. Morgan’s fine. She’s here and wants to talk to you, but first, I want you to put your guards on alert. Do it now, then come back to the phone.”

Smart woman. She didn’t hesitate. She laid the phone down and I heard a door open and voices. A minute later she came back.

“What’s the problem?” she asked.

“Someone at Semptor Labs had Morgan kidnapped. I think they were going to try and force you into whatever deal they wanted using your sister as collateral. There is a chance that since they’ve failed to keep her, they might decide to send someone around to hassle you and your company.” By that, I meant violently. She knew it, too. I took a breath. “I’m not trying to dip into your company business, Madison, but what type of arrangement is Semptor trying to work with you that would make them do this?”

“Well, I don’t know why it would make them do this. At first, they said they wanted a contract to transport their merchandise to various retailers all over the country, which was fine with me. They said they wanted to branch out, get more goods out there to the rest of the country and ultimately to the world. Everybody knows Semptor Labs disperses some of everything and have been using their own fleet but it’s too small for the wider distribution they have in mind.

“We are the largest shippers in the country, now, so I wasn’t surprised they’d want to use us. We ship everywhere. It would be quite a lucrative contract. We hit a snag the first day because they wanted us to begin shipping right away and the negotiator got a little frustrated about the amount of time we would need to get it scheduled. After all, they’re not the only business for whom we ship. I figured we could wrangle that out, though, and he agreed to meet the next morning to work on it.

“The next day, I was dumbfounded when the first thing he brought up was the fact that they wanted my company to transport something for them without telling us what it is. Furthermore, they wanted to send one of their people with each shipment who would determine the location of the drop-off point upon arrival. That’s when our discussions began to break down. I won’t allow my people to haul unidentified, possibly illegal or dangerous materials, and furthermore, have them not know where they’ll be going? It’s unsafe enough on the road for long-haul drivers nowadays, so uh-uh. Isn’t going to happen, and I told them that.”

She was right about the hazard to truck drivers. There had been jackings by gangs and the drivers went armed and in pairs. I didn’t know much about negotiating to haul goods but I wouldn’t have agreed to carry unknown items, either. Yet, I couldn’t think of why that would make them try to force Madison into doing it.

“When was the last time you spoke with them, and did they give you any indication they were angry about it?”

“No, they didn’t seem to be. We met with them yesterday, before I came to see you after realizing Morgan had been gone for over a day, but someone came in and said something to the chief negotiator. He said an emergency had come up and he would get back in touch to rearrange the meeting. I advised him we would be leaving on Monday but that I’d be available over the weekend. Since they rented a conference room for the meetings to take place at the hotel in which I was staying – which is why I arranged for rooms there in the first place – I gave him the phone number to my room. Look, I knew they weren’t happy with my refusal of their terms, but it never occurred to me they’d try something like this!”

“Yes, it does seem extreme,” I said. Not to mention criminal.

“Okay. Let me speak with Morgs now, then I want you back on the phone.”

I handed the phone to Morgan. She eagerly clapped it to her ear and went off into a chatter with her sister. I stepped away and eyed the doctor. I indicated the room.

“What’s all this?”

He smiled. “This is my lab and just so you know, I’ve lived in this house for years, since long before I sold off most of the land to developers and it became a neighborhood. As a side item, all of this area used to be farmland and my parents left the house and property to me. My grandparents, who actually farmed the land, called the place “Blue Heaven” and when the developers learned that, they appropriated the name for the neighborhood when they started building.

“Now, Semptor doesn’t know about the lab, as I had no reason to tell them, and lately, very good ones for not doing so. I set up the lab before retiring from teaching a few years before the Event, so I could still dabble when I wanted, you see, and I’ve been observing things and running tests ever since shortly after that day.

“When Semptor Labs appeared in the neighborhood, several things occurred to make me curious about them, and so when a year ago they were looking for a distribution analyst, I hired on with them. Their operation has largely been local and getting the merchandise out hadn’t been a problem, but a month ago, they advised me that they wanted to expand their distribution so I recommended Effingham Shipping. It is, after all, not only the biggest such company around, but also the best.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know about the fact that they wanted them to carry unknown items, and it never would have occurred to me that they’d resort to kidnapping! But, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because within the last three weeks, I’ve discovered what’s wrong with Blue Heaven, why everyone gets lost, why there’s always a film hanging up in the sky, and what Semptor Labs really is.”

“Excuse me? I thought Semptor was a company that distributes goods all over the place.”

“Well, yes, they do. However, they have an agenda, an ulterior motive.”

“All right, what are they, then?”

He studied my face for a moment then said, “Semptor Labs is a front for an alien race from somewhere out in the universe.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

I STARED AT HIM, MY BRAIN ONE BIG QUESTION mark with an exclamation point thrown in behind it. I flashed back on one of the crazy conspiracy theories put forth right after the world went to shit. Okay. The doctor was possibly a genius but that didn’t preclude him also being a crackpot.

It had been a while since the word used for what happened seven and a half years ago came up – out loud – in polite conversation, but this one wasn’t entirely polite and he’d already used it, so I said warily, “So are you saying that they caused the Event so they could come here and sell us stuff?”

He shook his head. “Oh, no, Mr. Murray. That is not what I’m saying. I know what caused the Event and I know that they did not. Nonetheless, they are taking advantage of it.”

I opened my mouth to ask how he knew and why he was working for aliens if that was the case but Morgan said, “Mr. Murray, Maddy wants to talk to you.”

As I turned to take the phone, I said to the doctor, “Proof, Doctor.”

He smiled and nodded.

On the other end of the phone, Madison said, “What?”

“Oh, I was talking to Dr. Bennett.” That out-of-the-blue tangled ball of “aliens from outerspace” wasn’t anything I could discuss with her at the moment so I asked, “How many guards do you have with you?”

“Six. Listen, can you trust this Dr. Bennett? Morgs told me about him. What is your next move? Are you bringing Morgs back now?”

“No. Getting out of here will not be easy – or fast. But yes, I trust Dr. Bennett.” Trusted him, yes, but wasn’t quite sure about his sanity yet. “Morgan will be okay here for a while. Look, six guards are not enough.” I thought for a moment. There were people on whom I could depend in a pinch. “I’m going to call someone and get some backup for you and your guards.”

“Who? And how will I know who they are?”

“Friends of mine.” She needed a way to identify friendlies from somebody showing up from Semptor. Judging by Talbert – and the guards – this Henderson guy had a bunch of goons working for him. I thought a moment, then I had it. “Ask anyone that shows up what I did for a living before I became a gravedigger.”

She was silent for a moment, then said, “You were a gravedigger?”

“It’s a long story, but yes. Before that I was a middle-school English teacher.” Everyone in my circle of friends knew that. If anyone Semptor sent happened to know my real name, it was possible some of them might know I used to dig graves, but I didn’t think any of them would know what kind of work I’d done before that.

“You were a teacher?” she sounded bemused.

“Yes, ma’am.” There wasn’t time to discuss that, either. “There’s something else you should do. I don’t know how far-reaching these people are but you should put your folk in Wilmington on alert, just in case.”

“Good thinking. I’ll do that right away. And Tennessee, thanks for finding my sister.”

Well, she’d paid me a huge sum of money to do it but I didn’t bring that up, instead, I said, “You’re welcome.”

The minute she was off the phone, I called Lowell and gave him a rundown on the situation.

He didn’t hesitate. “No worries, Tenn. Always glad to help a lady in distress. I’ll get right on it.”

He knew who all to contact and would get everyone together. I knew the first person he called would be Simon. “And Lowell,” I added, “give our friends in blue a heads up. They might be able to spring loose a few uniforms to help out, and even if they can’t they need to know what’s going on because you know it’ll get a little noisy if somebody does show up.” He agreed.

Once I hung up from that call, I turned to Morgan. On the surveillance monitor, I spotted our jackets and gloves on a chair in the livingroom where we’d left them. I’d kept my knit cap on but her hat was out there, too. I felt it was best if they were out of sight so I sent her to get them. Then I turned to the doctor who was sitting in one of the wheeled chairs at a desk next to one of the computers. I lowered myself into a chair at the desk beside him.

I studied him. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you Doctor, but what you’ve said sounds… incredible.”

He smiled. “Of course it does. I understand your skepticism. I’ve only learned they are aliens within the last three weeks but I do have proof, Mr. Murray. I would never have said it if I didn’t.”

“Okay. I’m ready for that proof, and sir, if you don’t mind, I prefer being called Tennessee – or Tenn.”

He nodded, pushed back a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his left eye, and pulled open a drawer on the desk. He removed something from it.

“I could show you pictures but those wouldn’t actually prove anything except perhaps that I’ve lifted images from some science fiction site still in operation on the internet. But, I have something I believe you will find to be credible.”

He held up the item he’d taken from the drawer, a rectangular object about the size of a deck of cards. “I appropriated this from Julius Henderson, whose real name, by the way, is Simretun, or that is how it sounded to me when I heard it. Normally, I work from home, I am only occasionally required to go in, and then only for brief visits.

“Over the past year, I’ve observed some… odd… behaviors on the parts of some of the employees that I have come to consider his inner circle, most notably, Martin Bedlow, his head of security. And by the way, there are varying numbers of them housed on the Semptor grounds in one of the buildings – around five hundred at this time, I think.

“They work at organizing the merchandise while folk from the neighborhood do packaging and loading, and then moving the goods to their various endpoints. Occasionally, Henderson’s people go out with the drivers but, other than organizing merchandise, their main task is to guard the company warehouses. He never uses human guards for that and uses none of his people as guards in the neighborhood. All neighborhood guards are humans.”

I wondered if Bedlow was the guy with the odd accent that I thought of as black suit, but I didn’t stop the doctor to ask what the man wore, though, there was one question I thought was pertinent.

“How do you know these people aren’t human?” An odd accent didn’t make a person non-human.

“They’ve made mistakes that I’ve had occasion to observe; small inconsistences such as their movements aren’t always the ones you’d expect, or they will laugh inappropriately.”

I remembered the odd giggle black suit let loose the first day I’d come to Blue Heaven. I still wasn’t convinced but it was something to consider.

He went on, “But the incident that sealed it for me was the day I dropped by Henderson’s office to ask about something. His door was ajar but he didn’t see me. He removed a panel on a machine and reached inside. I don’t know his reason for doing that, but when he withdrew his hand, he cut it on something sharp and it bled. The blood was more blue than red and it had a peculiar odor. At that point, he was turning toward the door so I knocked as though I’d just arrived. He quickly rubbed at the hand and the cut disappeared.

“He invited me in. Since the odor still lingered, I thought it would be suspicious if I didn’t ask about it so I did. He explained it away by saying it was the smell of oil as he was trying to get the machine to work. I had never seen the machine in operation so I asked him what was its function, and he said it was a new type of printer but was malfunctioning so he wasn’t using it. I could see it wasn’t a printer but I didn’t dispute him. He replaced the panel and I didn’t mention it again.

“No human has blood like that or can heal a cut that fast, Tennessee. That was big but I have more. I hired on with them because I’d been seeing strange frequencies on my lab instruments for some time and after determining they were coming from Semptor, I was hoping to get inside to get a look around. It didn’t take me long to spot some peculiar machinery that I reasoned might well be the origin of the odd frequencies, but I was never able to get close enough to examine one.

“After the incident in which he cut himself, Henderson was overseeing something, and had me meet him in a different area than usual. It was in a large room of a small building adjacent to his main office building. He wanted to go over new distribution scheduling, he said. While there, his walkie-talkie went off and someone said something to him in a strange language. He excused himself and said he’d return shortly. I had noticed several of the odd machines at the back of the room so the moment he left, I hurried over hoping to get a quick look at one of them.

“I must say I was nervous he’d return before I’d gotten my look. While I was doing a hasty job of studying one, it made a noise, a buzzing sound, and this” – he indicated the thing he held – “appeared on a ledge on the front of the machine beside it. Afraid Henderson would be back at any moment, I put it into a pocket and got back to my seat just in time.” He smiled again. “He therefore doesn’t know I have this. It’s what has led me to discover what they are and their agenda.”

He touched a spot on the thing and then turned it loose. It hung there in midair and then it began to expand.

“What the hell?” slipped out before I could stop. It was startling. And damned convincing.

The doctor chuckled. “My reaction exactly when I discovered the controls on the side and pushed one of them.”

It increased to become the size of one of the approximately twenty-four inch computer monitors and began to glow white.

Morgan came back in carrying our jackets and gloves, and her hat. She stopped short when she saw the thing hanging in front of the doctor.

“What is that?” she said, staring at the object as she dropped our outerwear on a chair.

“It’s a type of recording device,” said the doctor. “There are other facets to it, some I’ve yet to work out, but just watch it for now.”

A face appeared in the center of the “screen”. It wasn’t human.

Chapter Twenty-eight

MORGAN GAWPED AT THE IMAGE.

“Is that some kind of trick? How can a monitor float like that, and what’s that picture? Geez, it looks like something out of an old sci-fi movie!”

She was right. It did. I stared at the face that resembled nothing I’d ever seen. It was roughly triangular with eyes that reminded me vaguely of pictures I’d seen of the eyes of a squid with horizontally slit pupils – except there were four of them. The skin was a dull shade of yellow, and if there were ears, they weren’t evident. The nose, or what I thought was a nose, was a row of four fringed holes directly beneath the eyes, the mouth a wide, laid-on-its-side figure eight – or an infinity symbol. I couldn’t tell if it had teeth.

Morgan hadn’t heard our previous conversation so I explained as we examined the image. “Dr. Bennett believes Semptor Labs is a front for aliens. The floating device isn’t a trick. I saw him activate it. That is supposedly one of them.”

She stared wide-eyed at the doctor. I could see the disbelief in her eyes. Then she went back to gaping at the image.

I eyed Dr. Bennett. “Are you telling me this is how Henderson looks?” I was on my way to being convinced but if he was saying that this… being… was at Semptor, then considering that Frank hadn’t mentioned a non-human supervisor – something that as nosey as he was I think he would’ve noticed and mentioned – I was ready to take Morgan and quietly slip away. Before he became violent.

I was relieved when he shook his head and said, “Of course not. Henderson looks human enough to pass for one of us – as long as no one does an internal examination. I’ve never personally met this, er, being. This is an image of Henderson’s supervisor.” He touched the side of the floating frame and the image moved back to show the entire creature.

It stood on two legs and sported two arms but there the resemblance to any of Earth’s bipeds ended. Hanging from each arm was an arrangement that looked more like an array of tentacles than hands. I was only guessing it wore some type of clothing since its body was a different color – brown – than its face and rather long, thin neck and its tentacles. It also wore wide brown boots that merged with the garment that covered its legs. I supposed the boots were wide to accommodate what, if they resembled the hands, were likely tentacles instead of toes.

“Er, is it male or female?” I asked.

“Without examining it, there’s no way of knowing, Tennessee,” said the doctor. “It could be either – or both. Or something else entirely.”

Damn.

The figure became animated and its tentacles wiggled with what appeared to be agitation. Its face didn’t seem to be expressive but its mouth moved – sideways. It appeared to be speaking. The doctor pressed the side of the frame again and the sound came in.

A shrill voice spoke in a language like none I’d ever heard. I stared at the doctor.

He said, “Oh, wait, there is what I call a universal translator… here,” and he pressed something else and it became stilted English.

It came in, midsentence… “get it done now, Simretun! If you do not, you will forfeit your ****!” it blinked out. The last word was apparently untranslatable.

I sat in silence, unable to think of anything to say. It was awfully convincing.

“But… but… where would they have come from? How did they get here?” stammered Morgan as she dragged her eyes away from the now blank screen and back to the doctor. She eased herself down into a chair at a desk opposite the ones the doctor and I occupied.

He sighed and pushed away the lock of hair that kept falling over his eye. He touched the side controls and the monitor telescoped back to its original size. He placed it on the desk.

“I’ve learned a lot over the last couple of weeks.” He indicated the again card-sized apparatus “This is one of their communications devices. The machine from which it appeared is a type of transporter. Getting this enabled me to hack into Henderson’s computer and I have gone through some of the records I found but I have not yet been able to discover from where they originate. The problem is that they, of course, don’t call the stars their planets circle by the names we have for them, and I’ve not yet found star maps that might allow me to compare it to my charts and pinpoint any known stars. Indeed, they may not even be from our galaxy.

“As to how they got here, I did learn that and it was not by way of a spaceship. That’s one way they have taken advantage of the anomaly we call the Event.” He pointed up. “The gray film that hangs above Blue Heaven is their passageway. It is a small part of the anomaly that they have kept… for lack of a better term… wedged open. There are other transporters hidden within one of the warehouses, I think. They all interface somehow with the anomaly through the device or wedge that holds it open. They bring personnel and other items in that way. Each time they use a transporter to bring them or anything to our world, as a side effect a residue is generated, a vapor that clings to everything and leaves everyone with stinging eyes, and it emits odd frequencies that are picked up by my instruments.”

I stared at him. That answered my two-months-back question to the entryway guards of what was causing eye irritations in Blue Heaven. It also explained the oily roads, and indicated that not all the grime on the surfaces of the buildings was from fireplaces or wood-burning stoves.

I was trying to get it together and ask pertinent questions but my thoughts were scattered and the question I came up with was probably not very relevant but was all I could think of at the moment.

“Er, so, why is the place called Semptor Labs? Do they have a lab, and do they actually develop anything there?”

“They don’t have a lab. As near as I can tell, Henderson called it that because he liked the way it sounded. Perhaps the name is similar to something in his language.”

I was unable to think of what to say to that, so I nodded as though it made sense.

This was not anywhere near how I’d thought things would go after getting Morgan away from Talbert.

I ordered my jumbled thoughts. I supposed the doctor could provide an answer on why the neighborhood was so damned hard to navigate, but now I thought of the question in which I was most interested. What produced the thing that killed half the world?

“Okay, you said they didn’t cause the Event but that you know what did. You want to elaborate on that?”

Morgan gasped and leaned forward. She hadn’t heard that part, either. “What? You know what caused it?”

The doctor nodded and said flatly, “Yes, I do, and the epicenter of the interaction was right here in Blue Heaven.” He leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. “On the day of the Event, I stepped out on my front stoop preparing to take my morning walk when suddenly, the sun, well, it flickered. I looked up to see what appeared to be a small gray dot about the size of a dime from my perspective. I ran back inside to get a camera, and rushed back out to take pictures but the camera wouldn’t work so all I could do was watch. It grew larger and began spreading across the sky.

“It quickly grew to cover everything from horizon to horizon. I could see the gray covering wasn’t a fog, though it appeared to settle to the ground as a fog would. I could see people walking around and at the onset, because of the obscured lighting, I thought them to be some of my neighbors.

“That is I did until one came down the sidewalk and walked through my mailbox while crossing my yard, and continued through the large camellia that grows on the side toward my next-door neighbor. At that point I realized that whatever they were, they weren’t solid.” He made a huffing noise and shook his head. “I don’t mind saying that I was downright frightened. Though I felt fine, it even occurred to me that I might be having some type of ischemic episode, such as a stroke, and might be hallucinating but at that point, someone began screaming and I rushed down my walk to see what was going on. I got across the road to see my neighbor, who usually walked with me in the mornings, staring at something on her lawn. I went up to it and it was a body.”

He peered at me then at Morgan before continuing. “I don’t suppose I have to describe the condition of the poor fellow. I’m sure you’ve either seen it or heard it before. I didn’t know the man. He was a complete stranger. My neighbor and I tried to call for help but you know what happened with that. I won’t go into other gruesome details of that day, but here is something that I’m sure not many outside of Blue Heaven knows: no one who lived here died that day.”

That was shocking. It wasn’t anything I’d ever heard before. Someone in every neighborhood within the city died; in some, like my parents’, all of the residents had.

I frowned. “Sir, what of the man on your neighbor’s lawn? Where did he come from?”

He nodded. “Yes, you would think he lived here; however, he didn’t. Neither did any of the others found in that condition in Blue Heaven. Their being here was an effect of the Event. For a while, it warped space and time – which, by the way, is why it’s easy to get lost here. Because of the wedge, a small bit of that influence remains. Not much, just enough to make it difficult to find one’s way within this neighborhood, and to cast those shadowy figures seen at night. Those, I believe, are simply images – shades if you would – from another time, past or future, or it could be both. They are not distinct enough to make a determination. In either case, they are not aware of us at all.

“The blighted patches that appeared are also an effect of the wedge, caused by an emission. I believe them to be the displaced products of a different dimension or a universe other than ours. Fortunately, whatever is in them seem to be restricted to those areas.

“There weren’t many bodies found here but they were all from surrounding communities, not from here. It was a while before I became aware of the fact that no one who actually lived in Blue Heaven perished that day. Some have since moved away and as in other communities, there were a number of suicides but the Event didn’t kill anyone here. It was a factor that I couldn’t understand at first but have since deduced what happened.”

My mind couldn’t help but race to the thought that had the Event occurred at a later time, say six months to a year later, Zoni and I might have been living in Blue Heaven and… I shook my head. It wouldn’t have saved the rest of my family, or my friends, and all the other shit since would’ve still happened but deep within, my soul wished it had come later because in that case, I would still have Zoni… It was a hollow wish and I pushed the thought away.

“Okay. So, what caused it? Was it a black hole or what? And how do you know it was centered here?”

He shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure of what it was, son, other than it was a type of energy, but I am sure it was not a black hole. As to what caused it, I’m getting to that. At one point in my life, I was an astrophysicist, and even though I retired, I still dabbled. I even have a telescope built into a skylight in my attic. This is not the best area in the state for sky watching, as there is too much artificial lighting around – well, there was at that time though not so much now – but I only put it in for hobby use, you see. My main computer connects to it, and there is a video camera attachment and a device for picking up different frequencies.

“Since this was something close by, when I ran to get my camera that morning, I also activated the power to the telescope, as I wanted to get a shot with it and, if possible, readings from the phenomenon. The first thing I did, of course – once the power returned – was to see if the telescope picked up anything. It had, and even recorded a few impressions before it lost power, but it wasn’t anything I could understand, not right off.”

He sighed. “It took me two years to learn what was captured; exactly what it was I was seeing. I ran tests, did numerous calculations, and I could show you everything including the original readings but unless you are a physicist or mathematician, most of it wouldn’t mean much to you.” His eyes gleamed. “But I can show you something.” He turned to the nearby computer on the desk and turned it on. He smiled. “My telescope was faster with its camera than I was with mine and it picked up an image. This is what it saw before the power cut out.”

Morgan and I leaned in to see. The computer slowly powered up and the doctor moved the cursor on the mouse to open up a folder. He clicked on an icon and a video sprang up. We watched as a gray dot appeared surrounded by what seemed to be a faint, slightly darker gray grid.

“Watch the grid,” he said.

The grid twisted and turned as it rode the edges of the dot, which spread to encompass the screen. Parts of the grid appeared to separate from the dot as it continued to grow, and faint lights appeared briefly that flickered a couple of times before steadying and then gradually fading away as the gray thickened.

“This is what I saw when I checked. It did not make a lot of sense but it didn’t take me long to see that those dim lights showing through the gray area were stars – they are within the Orion constellation. If you’ve ever looked at that part of the sky, you will recognize the ones in the center as Orion’s Belt, but you can ignore those as they were merely behind the dot, though they do indicate at what position it occurred. The dot you see is the Event. The grid is what caused the deaths. It radiated out from the dot which was the point of occurrence. None of the grid touched down in Blue Heaven.”

I was agitated. And confused. A small gray dot and a grid killed my family and half the world? “But… what was it, Dr. Bennett? Why did it happen?”

He reached for the mouse and clicked to pause the video as it began to repeat. He turned to us. His face was solemn.

“It was a… glitch… in the universe, Tennessee, or specifically, the miniscule portion of it impinging on our little corner. As I said, I did a lot of observing and testing, made calculations, and have since confirmed it with a colleague. The only way I can put it is to say that the wall of the universe thinned momentarily here in Blue Heaven and the ripples from it spread over the Earth. The grid represented lines of a type of energy. Where it touched down was purely random but wherever it touched, people were destroyed.”

So were animals. They had met the same fate as people. Underwater creatures fared better, and plant life hadn’t been disturbed at all.

He sighed. “As to why it happened, well, that is a thing I have yet to decipher. I do have a theory but haven’t yet worked it out. As near as I have been able to determine, and a couple of colleagues with whom I have consulted agree, it’s an atypical anomaly and doesn’t appear to strike the same place twice, though, as with lightning, I suppose it could. I don’t yet know the frequency of it but it has happened elsewhere before.

“It was simply our misfortune that it occurred here this time. I don’t think our resident aliens know why either though they do have a method of predicting when and where it will appear, and a way of using it to access any world it affects. By the way, they call themselves the Binqua. I believe the name refers to their civilization as a whole rather than a species since it seems to include the individual in the video and it is of a different species than the ones here.”

I studied him as I chewed on that before saying, “Okay, so they’re aliens, and they’re taking advantage of the Event by setting up Semptor Labs. Other than trying to do a shake down on Effingham Shipping, what are they doing that’s so detrimental? Seems to me they’re just plying their products. I don’t see how—”

Shaking his head, he interrupted me. “No, Tennessee. That’s not all they’re doing. Because a lot of our technology no longer works properly, there has been speculation that somehow, the laws of physics changed during the Event, but that is not true. In fact, physics can describe the Event. I can tell you it would take more than that to alter such a fundamental attribute of the universe.

“I personally think it would take going to another universe to see a change in the laws of physics, and at that, it wouldn’t really be a change, merely a different set of rules for a different universe. That is something that ties into my theory of why the anomaly may have happened but even so, it wouldn’t affect the rules of our universe.” He stopped, noting the what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about looks on our faces, I think, because he smiled and said, “Sorry, I digress.

“What I’m trying to say is the Binqua are the reason a lot of our technology no longer works. They are doing it with a device. Now, I haven’t a clue, yet, as to how it operates though I believe it’s an added function of the machine that keeps the Event wedged open. Moreover, it’s going to get worse. If peddling their wares actually was their only goal I would say let them sell whatever they want, and until three months ago, that actually was their objective. Unfortunately for us, at that time their reason for being here changed from that of mere opportunistic merchants.

“Now, they intend to transform our world into one on which we will not be able to survive. The alien you saw in the video lives on a world that has a different atmosphere from ours, and it has decided it wants this world for its species. Its minions are here to make this world into one on which its species can survive. What Henderson wants Effingham Shipping to haul to various cities, are terraformers, machines designed to remake the Earth. They will be placed all over the world and when all are in position, they will be activated.”

His expression became grim. “In approximately three years, we will be dead.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

“WHAT?” MORGAN EYES FLEW WIDE. “But… but why would they do that?”

The doctor eyed her. “I would hazard a guess that it’s because they want or need room and this world is convenient. It is likely close enough to theirs to be livable with a few adjustments to the composition of the atmosphere.” He shrugged. “It is probably also one of their ways of expanding. Henderson originally came to make money. He and his crew resemble us and can breathe our air. It’s easy for them to pass, but they are subordinate to this other being and it changed the mission.”

“But wait,” I said, trying to work things out in my head. “Okay, they came to make money. How would they do that? After all, our money wouldn’t have any value to them.”

He nodded. “You’re right. From what I have seen in the files, they’ve done this before. What they do is take the money they get from selling their wares and convert it by buying items they then use to sell on their worlds, such as gold, silver, precious and semi-precious stones, even lead and iron, and other such commodities. They even buy water. In fact they’ve been purchasing it in such high volumes that it has driven the price of water to tremendous heights. They apparently have no use for fossil fuels. In fact, they flood the market with those. That’s why it’s so inexpensive now.

“Usually they sell their goods to the affected world, make money, and after around ten years, they move on. But when it’s a world someone decides would be a good one for one or more of their species, then they take it. It usually takes around three years for them to complete that type of mission.”

“Well why did they disable our technologies?”

“They operate it this way so as to make it easier to fight the inhabitants if they’re discovered before they’re ready. And in the cases where they decide to take over a world, such as they now intend to do with ours, it ensures they can do so with just a few of their people, before anyone can realize why the air is changing, when it is too late to stop it.”

Clever. And the bastards planned to use us to help them kill us and steal our world.

Then my brain stilled. Something he said earlier and I’d filed away in the back of my mind pinged into my consciousness. Now that I was hearing they were on the path to scrub our world of us, it reared up and set off an alarm in my head.

“Dr. Bennett, I know you said they didn’t cause it but you also said they can predict when and where the Event – the anomaly – occurs. Could they have warned us? And if so, was there a way perhaps we could’ve protected ourselves had we known it was coming?”

He looked startled. “You know, I haven’t considered that, Tennessee, though, I would hope they would’ve alerted us to the impending danger had they been able to. As to whether we could’ve protected ourselves had we’d known… I’d say, probably so. Our basic structures, while not being harmed or destroyed by the energies from the anomaly, didn’t block their effects on living creatures. However, a number of materials, including cheap ones such as lead and water, could block the energies.

“We could’ve built shelters or issued individual covering for houses and other buildings – maybe even personal ones. All of this would have worked, and given enough time, developing something even better with which to protect ourselves might have been possible. Of course we would’ve had to have notice far enough in advance to give us time to prepare, but it could’ve been done.”

“Is there any way we can find out if they could’ve told us this thing was coming?” I hoped I was simply being paranoid but that suspicion was getting stronger.

“Er, why I don’t know, son, but there could be something within the files I, ah, procured from Henderson’s computer. I’ve not yet had time to give them a thorough perusal. I’ve only accessed the ones that revealed who they are, and what their current plans are for this world. And I was fortunate there’s a translator. Apparently, they don’t all speak the same language and a universal translator is included in all of their files, probably to render working with each other easier. I must say, it made my job of snooping easier, too.

“There could be something in there, but, Tennessee, I don’t see how they could’ve given us warning. Unless they have some type of faster-than-light communication device – and I haven’t seen any evidence of such in the records – then they wouldn’t have had a way to reach us by radio. And remember, they couldn’t use the anomaly to get here until it formed. And, as I’ve said, they did not use any type of spaceship to get here, and indeed, even if they have spaceships, their planet – or planets – are likely much too far away to have been able to reach us for hundreds, even thousands of years, no matter how fast their ships are. Why, if they hail from another galaxy, or even from far enough away in ours, it could take millions of years to reach us by spaceship.”

Nevertheless, my suspicious mind wanted to know: when did they include English in their universal translator? To me that said they’d known about us for a while and made their plans a long time ago. Perhaps it was to ensure the Binqua who came to Earth would have the language at ready hand to study but that indicated they did have some type of faster-than-light communicator, or something faster than ours, and were watching our broadcasts, and if they could receive, could they also send?

I was kind of at a place where I wasn’t certain if I wanted to know if we could’ve been alerted but on the other hand, my gut was talking to me and I needed to at least rule it out because that would mean… I didn’t want to think about what it would mean.

I sincerely hoped my intestines were wrong. But, I couldn’t get around the fact that even if they couldn’t have given us a heads-up, they certainly weren’t trying to be benevolent benefactors now. They showed up to make a profit from our misfortune and, in the end, decided they wanted our entire planet – sans us. That displayed a real lack of good intentions. Definitely not friendly.

Morgan’s face clouded over as she eyed me. “You think they might’ve chosen not to warn us when they could have?”

“I believe it’s possible,” I said. I looked at the doctor. “Can you bring those files up now?”

“Why, yes I can.” He turned around to the computer and clicked his mouse for a couple of seconds and a file appeared. He opened it and a mass of strange script that looked like nothing I’d ever seen, appeared on the screen. He clicked on an emblem at the top and the script resolved into English.

Morgan and I leaned over his shoulder. There was nothing there pertaining to Earth, only to the anomaly.

Dr. Bennett said, “This is the first page I read but there’s more.” He moved the curser down and clicked on a dot in the left corner and more data popped up.

Nothing there, either. He kept going and nothing other than what he’d already told us came up. My insides eased a little. They were being rather coldhearted toward us but at least it seemed that they couldn’t have given us any warning.

The doctor sighed with what sounded like relief, and said, “This is about all of it, Tennessee. There doesn’t seem to be anything about that in here.” He started to close the file.

Suddenly Morgan said, “Stop! Wait, what’s that?” She pointed at a concentric circle showing at the bottom of the last page. I hadn’t noticed it.

The doctor said, “There’s one at the bottom of each page. I clicked on the one on the first page during my initial look at the file, and nothing happened. I assumed it simply denoted the bottom of the page so I didn’t try any of the others.” He shrugged. “But it won’t hurt to try another.” He moved the mouse over it and another file sprang up. Startled he said with a rueful shake of his head, “My mistake. One should never simply “assume”.

He clicked through the pages of the file but they all seemed to pertain to some kind of information on how to make a type of device, the likes of which I’d never seen. I supposed if I were to read through the instructions I might be able to determine what it did but I wasn’t interested. The doctor was, but he could check it out later.

“Go back to the other pages and see if any of those circles open,” I said.

He went back to the second page since he knew the circle on the first one didn’t open. The second one did but it contained schematics of another type of machine. The doctor kept going. He got near the end again, and I began to relax.

He clicked on one more circle and the first page of the file that opened described how to predict the anomaly, which I didn’t understand since it was a long mathematical equation but the doctor said he’d be able to decipher it. A list popped up that held predictions of when and where it would appear in the future. We didn’t go through the list, because there were over fifty pages. Then there were longs pages that listed when and where it formed in the past, a list that seemed to go back thousands of years. We didn’t try to look at much of it, though I was sure the doctor would as soon as he had the chance. He keyed in Earth to see if the translator was good enough to bring it up. It did.

And, there it was.

As we read the information, a chill crept into me. I felt sick. They could have warned us. No, they didn’t have spaceships that would’ve reached us in time but they did have a communications device that could span the universe almost instantaneously. They also knew our languages and how to broadcast on our frequencies. And, they knew about it hundreds of years before it appeared here. They even had a method of shielding from it. The doctor did a quick scan of a few of the places on the backlist and as far as we could tell, the bastards never warned the inhabitants of any of those worlds, either.

They could’ve saved billions of lives – trillions if you counted the other unwarned worlds – but had chosen not to.

I felt as if I’d taken a physical blow to the gut. I glanced at Morgan and she had blanched white. Tears poured down her cheeks.

“My mom and dad,” she whispered in a broken voice. “My gram and grampa. Maddy screamed and I woke up and ran into the kitchen and they were all in pieces, all dead. The lights wouldn’t come on and it was so foggy outside… Maddy tried to call the police but she couldn’t get anybody. Nothing worked.” She slumped back into her chair and looked at me with hurt eyes. “They could’ve helped us but they didn’t. They could’ve saved our families, all our people…”

I rolled my chair beside hers and took her into my arms and she began to sob. She leaned into me, shaking, and I began to stroke her hair. Yes. I knew how she felt.

My chest tightened and the images walked through my mind.

My bride, the love of my life, three days before our wedding lying on our bed, her beautiful brown eyes staring into eternity before I closed them and bundled her shattered body into a homemade shroud. I knew.

My mother, scattered on the hard tiles of the kitchen floor, her warm and loving heart stilled forever, placing her severed body into a shroud. I knew.

Fighting flies as I ripped the pieces of my kind and generous father from the sun-cooked deck to put them into a makeshift shroud. I knew.

Digging their graves.

Burying them.

Finding my eighteen-year-old cousin in a morgue.

My sister on a plane that fell from the sky.

I knew.

Five billion people that no longer existed.

All the shit of the last seven and a half years.

Oh, God, how I knew what she was feeling.

And now they intended to finish the job.

We had to find a way to stop them.

Chapter Thirty

“TENNESSEE? MORGAN?”

I looked up. Dr. Bennett was sitting there watching us with a stunned expression. He hadn’t suspected at all. He pulled out a handkerchief, removed his glasses, and wiped at his eyes. I guess he had his own dark memories of that day.

“Sir?” My throat was tight and my voice came out low and rusty.

Morgan’s shoulders stopped shaking as her sobs died away. She lifted her head to peer up at the doctor with reddened eyes.

His throat clicked audibly as he swallowed. He got up. “Come, I think you both could use a drink. I know I could.”

I could, and Morgan nodded. We followed him down the hall where he took us past an elaborate dining room, and into a large kitchen where Morgan and I settled on leather barstools at a center counter made of dark stone. He reached under the counter and came up with glasses. He placed three on top. Then he went to a door at the side and came back with a never opened bottle of Chevis Regal, the twenty-five-year old blend, a scotch that was expensive even before the Event.

“Do you want a chaser? I have juices and sodas…”

“No, sir. This is fine,” I said reaching for a glass.

Morgan grabbed a glass and held it up. “Just the whiskey, Doctor.”

We sat in silence as we drank. Dr. Bennett broke it with a sigh.

“This adds a different aspect, Tennessee. The Binqua not only planned to take advantage of the Event but made their preparations far in advance.” He sat silent for another moment, then said, “I should tell you that I’ve also learned how they’ve managed to have so much merchandise on hand.”

I frowned. “What do you mean? When I saw their buildings, I knew they couldn’t be manufacturing all the goods they distribute but I assumed they have a lot of suppliers.”

“I thought that was the case, also, before I hired on with them. Afterward, I discovered they do have a few suppliers, but then, I began to notice how much more merchandise seemed to go out than come in. I couldn’t fathom how that could be until last week. In going through Henderson’s files, I saw a different machine of which they have a number in the backs of all the warehouses. Most of the items the Binqua sell come from those devices. They are replicators.”

Morgan stared. “What do you mean “replicators”?

Again, I was hearing something incredible but I thought I knew. “Remember those old science fiction series and movies before the Event?” At her nod I continued. “Do you recall the ones with plots about technology that instantly created food or drinks or other items?” I saw it dawn on her. I nodded. “Yes. It’s like that.” I looked at the doctor. “Right?”

He smiled. “Yes, it is. Only, for the Binqua that technology is fact. I don’t presume to know how it works but it does, and they turn out many goods with it. I believe that over the years they captured images from our television broadcasts and programmed the replicators to produce the actual items. They could likely reproduce anything they want – except water. They don’t seem to be able to make that. It’s probably why they’ve bought so much of ours. A certain amount comes in by way of supply trunks but I think they have somehow tapped into a supply somewhere and are also stealing it. Perhaps it is another way they’re using the anomaly. On the other hand they reproduce fossil fuels and glut the market.

“I have learned that they created an underground pipeline from their premises. They have a replicator that constantly pushes it out and through this pipe, though how they got it underground without anyone noticing is a mystery. It goes to that refinery and storage facility out on the west side and tanker trucks load up and take it all over.”

I looked at the very good scotch whiskey we were drinking. It tasted like the real thing. “Did this come from them?”

He smiled again. “No, it didn’t. I have a stock from before the Event and this came from that. Still, the items they reproduce can’t be told from the originals.” He leaned forward peering keenly at us.

I thought he was getting ready to hit us with more information. I braced myself. I was not looking forward to hearing more disturbing shit.

He apparently saw that because he said, “It’s late. Morgan, I know you’re anxious to see your sister but I believe you need to rest before taking the trip you’ll have to make to get out of here without the guards seeing you. Tennessee, you could use some rest, too. It’s safe here and I have plenty of room. Stay tonight and leave tomorrow.” He sighed. “I would try and take you out in my car but I don’t think that will work since they’re bound to be looking for Morgan and will check every car that leaves.”

I glanced at my watch. I was startled to see it was after eleven. Time flies when you’re having fun. The doctor made a good point. They would definitely be looking for Morgan. We would have to cross the strip and that wasn’t going to be easy even with rest. We’d have to remain until nightfall the next day but that was preferable to taking Morgan across the strip without getting some sleep.

I nodded. “You’re right though I need to check with Madison first to see if she’s had any trouble.”

Morgan, who’d had two drinks to my one, was quiet as we went back to the phones in the lab where I spoke with Madison and learned that, so far, things were quiet. I advised her of our plans and she and Morgan talked for a few minutes. Then, Dr. Bennett showed us a closet where we hung our coats before he led us upstairs. There were five bedrooms and he invited us to choose which we wanted to use. Morgan went into one, I took the one beside hers.

I stripped and climbed into the shower of the bathroom that came with the room. The drink had calmed me but as the water poured down, my mind kept jumping back to everything I’d heard that night. I dried off and fell into the comfortable bed. The one thing I needed to do first was get Morgan back to Madison. Then I could make some concrete plans.

I didn’t know how, but I was going to do my damnedest to help stop those assholes. I supposed notifying the authorities would be a place to start. Of course, they would have to be convinced but if I had to kill an alien and drag the carcass to them, I would gladly do so. With that thought, I drifted off to sleep.

I awakened to chimes and as my sleep fogged brain cleared, I realized it was the doorbell. I glanced at the window. Still dark. I reached over and dragged my watch from the nightstand. I hit the little light button and peered at it. One-fifteen a.m. No wonder I felt so groggy. I’d been asleep for barely an hour. Good news seldom showed up that time of night so I slid from bed and pulled on my pants and shirt. I eased from the room and made my way over the carpeted floor. I stood quietly at the top of the stairs, listening.

The doctor had already gotten to the door and opened it.

“Why, hello Terrance,” he said, his voice gravelly with sleep and sounding surprised. “What are you doing out this time of night? You should be in bed.”

A nervous young voice said, “I just come by to tell you somethin’. Can I come in?”

“Uh, all right.”

I heard the door close. The voice sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it.

“All right, son, what is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you that th’ lady what was here last night was tryin’ to git outta th’ entry an’ th’ guards took her. I don’t know why they wanted her but I heard one of ‘em say he was taking her to Mr. Bedlow. I wouldna come but she was hollerin’ an’ kickin’ like she didn’t wanna go with him an’ then he hit her an’ she fell. I think he knocked her out. Then he put her in that jeep they use.” He took a breath. “I thought you might wanna know, since she was here an’ all, so maybe you could go an’ put in a word to Mr. Bedlow an’ spring her. You know, like you did for me.”

What? I spun around, and quickstepped to Morgan’s door and threw it open. I switched on the light. The bed was undisturbed, and the room was empty. I spotted a scrap of paper on the bed pillow, and snatched it up: “Dear Mr. Murray, thank you for all your help. Thank the doctor for me, but I’ve got to get out of here and I don’t want to wait ‘til tomorrow night. You told me how not to get lost so I’m going to slip past the guardhouse. It’s dark and they won’t see me. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Shit.

Madison said she wasn’t impulsive and perhaps ordinarily she wasn’t, but, judging from the fact that she’d gone off with Talbert after drinking and now this, apparently she was quite impulsive after a couple of drinks. Damn. Didn’t the doctor have an alarm system?

I jammed the note into my pocket, went back out, and bounded down the stairs.

Chapter Thirty-one

I FOUND OUT WHY THE VOICE SEEMED FAMILIAR.

The boy who’d told me how to get out when I was lost in Blue Heaven stood in the foyer with the doctor. He was wearing the hat I’d given him and the same ragged denim jacket. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open when he saw me.

“Hey! It’s you! You th’ man what gave me th’ hat!”

Dr. Bennett, dressed in a blue and white plaid flannel robe over pajamas – dark blue judging by the pant legs coming from beneath the robe – looked from the boy to me. “I take it you’ve met Terrance.

I nodded. “He helped me get out of Blue Heaven after my first visit.”

While I wondered why the boy was running around the neighborhood after midnight on a Sunday morning, or how he’d known Morgan was at the doctor’s house earlier, or why the doctor had to “spring” him from Bedlow, I could find that out later. Now I needed to figure out how to get her back.

I smiled at the boy. “Hello, Terrance. We didn’t get the chance to introduce ourselves before. My name is Tennessee Murray. I don’t mean to rush you, but it’s important we get back the lady you saw. How long ago did this happen?”

“Um, maybe ten minutes, or fifteen. I didn’t want nobody to see me, ‘specially if that guard what had her came back ‘cause he’s th’ mean one that limps. So I didn’t come ‘rectly here, sir.”

“You said the guard took her to Mr. Bedlow. Is he the man that wears a black suit?”

“Yes, sir, well, he’s one of ‘em. He’s th’ guards’ boss. When he ain’t in th’ guard office, he stays down on Maple Street, not too far from th’ Semptor.”

“Would he be at the office now or on Maple?”

“I can answer that, Tennessee,” said the doctor. “At this time of night he would be at his house, and since the guard took Morgan to him, he will likely notify Henderson that he has her.”

And Henderson was certain to call Madison.

The doctor continued, looking contrite. “I’m sorry, Tennessee. I was tired and I fell asleep almost immediately so I didn’t hear her, and I didn’t think to set the alarm. I seldom turn it on because after all, there’ve not been any break-ins in this neighborhood for years but had I done so—”

I shook my head and waved it away. Too late for that now. Besides, I hadn’t heard her either.

“I’m calling Madison. She needs to know she’ll be getting a call from Henderson.” I started down the hall. Then I stopped and studied the boy still standing there in his thin jacket

“What about Terrance? Doesn’t he need to get home?”

The doctor looked at him, then nodded. “You’re right but it’s cold out and he’s not wearing a heavy enough jacket. I’ll get dressed and take him.”

Terrance spoke up. “You don’t have to do that, Dr. Bennett. I can stay here if you don’t mind. I’ll leave come daylight.”

“Er, won’t your parents be worried?” I asked.

“Oh, no Mr. Murray. I don’t have no parents. Th’ people I live with went outta town for th’ weekend an’ locked up th’ house, so I can’t git in anyways.”

“What? Well where have you been staying?” Surely he hadn’t been out in the cold since they left. Why would they lock him out?

“Been stayin’ in one a th’ ‘bandoned houses down on Pine but if’n th’ doc don’t mind, I’ll stay here tonight and leave tomorrow.” He shivered. “Lot’s warmer in here than there.”

Dr. Bennett and I looked at each other, and I’m sure we had the same what-the-hell thought.

The doctor only said, “Of course you may stay, Terrence.”

I didn’t say anything but I couldn’t imagine why these people would’ve left the boy essentially homeless for the weekend. Perhaps I was misconstruing something but it didn’t sound right. However, it was something else I’d have to worry about later. I continued down the hall and into the doctor’s bedroom, past his rumpled bed and through the closet to the lab. I dialed Madison’s hotel number. She picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Madison, Tennessee. Morgan decided she wanted to leave here now instead of waiting and they’ve captured her again.”

“What? Jesus! Why did she do that? Why did you let her leave?”

“I didn’t. She waited until everyone was asleep and left a note. I’m not sure why she left, but it may be because of something upsetting we learned earlier. She’d had a couple of drinks and wasn’t thinking clearly. Look, I’m certain you’re going to get a phone call from someone at Semptor.”

“Huh? What did she learn?”

“Tell you later, no time right now, I have to go.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going after her. I’ll get her back but you’re sure to get that call before I do, so stall them as long as you can. How are things there, still quiet?”

“Yeah. Your guys came. They’re all sleeping down in the lobby. They said they weren’t leaving until you said so. The police department sent a couple of men, too. They’ve filed a kidnapping report and now they’re stationed out front.”

That’s good friends for you. “Okay. I’ll call you as soon as I get back here with Morgan.”

As I hung up, I was wishing I had a couple of those friends with me. Working alone on something like this would be difficult but that wasn’t going to stop me. I would get her back. I went back to the front. The boy and the doctor had disappeared but I heard their voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. I dashed back upstairs, pulled on my boots, and grabbed my guns and knives from the nightstand.

I went back down and to the kitchen, where the doctor was pulling out food from his refrigerator. The doctor saw the shoulder holster when I removed my jacket earlier so he wasn’t surprised to see it now. Terrance’s eyes got big but he didn’t say anything. I had already stuck the smaller gun into its spring mechanism, and attached it to my arm under my sleeve and was putting one of the knives into the holder on my other arm as I entered.

I hoped I wouldn’t have to use them but I wouldn’t hesitate if it became necessary. The other knives were in various pockets and I had the 9mm I confiscated from Abe Harlow years earlier, in its holder in one of my boots. Simon once said to me, “One can never have too much backup, son”. I’d taken his words to heart.

“I’m making a sandwich for Terrance,” said the doctor. “Do you want one? When was the last time you ate?” He pulled out bread from what I took to be a pantry and laid it on the counter beside the cold-cuts, cheese, and orange juice he’d taken from the fridge.

“Yesterday evening before I came to Blue Heaven, but I don’t have time to eat.”

He threw a stern look my way. “Well, you’ve been busy since then. You need to eat.”

He wasn’t going to be satisfied until I agreed. I capitulated. I’d eat fast.

He quickly began slathering mayonnaise on the bread as he said, “How are you going to go about retrieving Morgan?”

“I’m going down to Bedlow’s house, first. With a little luck, that’s where she’ll be. I wish I had a couple of guys with me but I’ll make do.”

He handed me the sandwich and began making another. He was fast.

“Well, wait a minute. I might be able to get you at least one man.” He handed Terrance the sandwich and poured juice into a glass for him. “He may want pay, though.”

I bit into the sandwich wondering from where he would get someone this time of night, but the doctor was proving to be resourceful and I wasn’t going to worry about it. Madison had given me quite a lot for expenses but in this case, even if she hadn’t I’d still pay the guy because this had become personal.

“That’s fine, Doctor. If you can get him, I’ll pay. Tell him to bring a weapon.”

He nodded and left the kitchen.

The boy tore into his sandwich as if he hadn’t eaten in a while. That didn’t mean he hadn’t.

“Terrance, how old are you?” I asked.

He swallowed and took a sip of juice. “Thirteen, sir, but I’ll be fourteen next month. He grinned and added, “You can call me Terry, sir. The doc says he likes th’ name “Terrence” so that’s what he calls me. Everybody else calls me Terry.”

I chuckled. “Okay, Terry it is.” I’d noticed the doctor, who’d said he liked my name, seemed to prefer to call me Tennessee so I knew what the boy meant. His age could explain the voracious appetite. Kids that age ate a lot. Of course, it could also mean that whoever he lived with wasn’t feeding him well because he was pretty thin. Unfortunately, that happened a lot these days. After all, they had left his on his own for several days. I finished eating, gulped down some orange juice, and wiped my mouth.

The boy couldn’t have been any older than six on the day of the Event. “Have you ever been to school?”

He nodded and stopped eating as he explained. “I went to kindergarten an’ first grade, sir. But that’s it. Mrs. Harris – I live with her an’ Mr. Harris, and their two little girls – sometimes she ‘low’s me to sit in on their school lessons but most of th’ times I have to go to work.”

“Work?”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t want to keep him from eating so I quit asking questions, but as soon as I got the chance, I was going to ask him a few more. Such as why the people with whom he was living didn’t take him with them when they went out of town, or at least not lock him out of the house while they were gone. And why did he have to work.

The doctor came back. “All right. I called my neighbor across the street and she’s sending her son over. Two friends are spending the weekend with them and they’re coming with him. Now, I don’t know the friends but Duncan is a reasonable fellow. He won’t charge you a lot for his help and he knows his way around the neighborhood.”

That was good. Three guys were even better than one.

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang. The doctor went to get the door while I got my jacket and pulled it on. I’d forgotten about the gun I’d taken from the guard. I’d put it in one of my inside jacket pockets and it was still there. The .25 I’d taken from Talbert was in a pocket too. I already had the 9mm and didn’t need another small gun so I started to leave it on the closet shelf. I changed my mind because one never knows what might come in handy and it wasn’t in the way. Then I went to the foyer.

Three guys with rifles were standing there. The doctor introduced Duncan Hamilton who introduced his friends. Duncan appeared to be around my age – my real age of thirty-two not the one I appeared to be – the one introduced as Percy Jones looked a little younger, the other one, Lem Bowman, was about forty. The friends didn’t live in Blue Heaven but were visiting with Duncan over the weekend. They were all sizable guys with Percy being the biggest.

Duncan eyed me as he shook my hand. “Hey, didn’t I see you up at the Hole earlier?”

I admitted it.

“Well, what’s the story? The doc says you wanna go get somebody back from that weirdo bastard, Bedlow.”

“Yes.” I raised an eyebrow. Seemed as if he didn’t much care for the head of security. “I’m a tracker, and someone at Semptor has kidnapped the person I came here to find and I’m going to get her back.”

Duncan peered at me. “Damn. Semptor’s in on this? Okay, you gonna tell us now exactly who’s kidnapped?

I nodded. “Yes, Semptor’s involved, and the person that was abducted is Morgan Effingham. Bedlow had her picked up on the orders of his boss.” I shook my head with irritation. “I got her away from them once, and we were supposed to spend the night here and leave later but after the doctor and I were asleep, she tried to leave Blue Heaven on her own.”

He shook his head and blew out a breath. “That’s not good if she don’t know about this place. Morgan Effingham… say, is she any relation to the Effingham’s that owns the shipping company?”

“Yes. Her sister hired me to find her.”

“Why did she leave?”

“She was afraid. I think because of something she learned.” I wasn’t mentioning the aliens. That would be hard to swallow without proof and there was no time for that at the moment. “It has to do with why she was kidnapped. There’s no time right now, but once we get her back I’ll give you the whole story.”

He nodded. “Okay, I’m good to go. I used to be a guard and that sonofabitch wanted us to detain people for no good damn reason at all. That they ask questions is not a good reason to hassle folk. I finally had some words with him about it and then I quit. He hasn’t liked me since. Always trying to give me grief whenever he sees me. I’m about to move out of Blue Heaven because he’s kept me from working anywhere else in here and I had to get a job out of the neighborhood. The bastard has me stopped every time I come or go, and I’m tired of it.” He shook his head again. “Never woulda thought the asshole would get into kidnapping, though.”

He definitely didn’t like him.

“How much you paying?” asked Percy. Apparently, he didn’t care what the story was as long as he got paid.

I studied them. I didn’t have time to haggle. “Two hundred a piece.”

Duncan nodded. “That’ll do.” His friends agreed.

“Okay. Let’s get moving.”

The three men followed me out into the night.

Part Five: The Binqua

Chapter Thirty-two

NO ONE WANTED TO GET LOST SO WE DIDN’T talk on the way to Maple Street.

Maple sloped sharply downhill from Main Street and the houses were a mixture of single- and two-stories. I could see only one struggling street lamp off in the distance.

“He’s got cameras so we need to stop before we get to his house,” said Duncan when we started down Maple.

We pulled up behind the large bush in the yard of the house three doors away. Duncan pointed down the street.

“Bedlow’s is a single-story with a loft but it’s too dark to see it from here. It’s even hard to see it in daylight until you get right up on it because it’s down in a dip.”

I studied the outline of the darkened house at which we’d halted and saw no way to use it to spy on Bedlow’s place. No detached garage with a convenient ladder. One would think that with the street name of “Maple” there’d be many such trees. There wasn’t a one in sight, so no tree to climb.

I motioned for them to follow me and we proceeded across the approximately fifty-foot yard of the dark house next to Bedlow’s. There was about a twenty-foot vacant span between the two houses, and if his surveillance system was similar to the one in Dr. Bennett’s living room, it looked out on the empty span. But, there was a row of overgrown holly bushes separating the yard from the space between the houses, and since Bedlow’s house sat lower, we could remain hidden while we cased the place. It wasn’t ideal but it would do.

We crouched behind the holly bushes. I lay down on the ground and carefully parted some of the prickly branches and looked down on the house. There was no car or jeep parked out front. Whoever brought Morgan had either come and gone, or were parked elsewhere. It had taken us ten minutes to get to Maple Street and we left about twenty minutes after Terry came to the doctor’s door. He said it took him around ten minutes to get there – give or take five minutes – so I estimated about forty-five minutes had passed. More than enough time for Bedlow to inform Henderson of Morgan’s recapture, so it was possible she was no longer there. But, I had to be sure, and if she wasn’t there, I needed to find out where she was.

There were lights coming from the windows. It was not a good position from which to see into the front but I had a clear view of the big one on the side. I was surprised to see it had no curtains. Maybe Binqua didn’t like curtains.

I saw two armchairs and the edge of what appeared to be a monitor. I couldn’t see the other side of the room but I construed it to be where Bedlow had his surveillance system. There was a man sitting in one of the armchairs from where I gathered he was watching the monitor. Judging by the armchair, whoever was watching would be comfortable. That could make him less alert. The other chair was empty and I didn’t see any sign of Morgan though she might’ve been on the side of the room I couldn’t see. She could also have been elsewhere in the house. Or, not there at all.

There was something familiar about the man but I was too far away, and he sat with his head down and his face turned partially away from the window, so I couldn’t make out his features. I wished I had binoculars, but you can’t have everything. However, since the guy had light hair instead of black, and was wearing a guard’s uniform, I knew it wasn’t Bedlow.

I hazarded a guess that Bedlow always had someone watching the monitor, so it was probably one of the guards I’d seen at the entryway guardhouse. Whoever he was, it wasn’t very smart of him to sit in front of a lighted window. Duncan crawled up beside me to take a look. We watched for a few minutes and I noticed something. That chair must’ve been very comfortable because the guard definitely wasn’t alert. He was in fact, asleep. Duncan saw it too, and we looked at each other.

“Do you know which room Bedlow would be in?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah”, murmured Duncan. “When I was a guard I took a night stint a few times to watch his monitor, so I know the layout of the house pretty well. His room’s on the other side. There’s a garage on that side, too, and it has a side door for getting in without raising the garage door. The inside door opens into the kitchen.”

“Would those be locked?”

“The one outside should be, and the one to the inside was always locked when I was there. I had to unlock it to step out into the garage to smoke on my break.”

Perfect. I knew how to get through locked doors.

“Would there be more than one guard?”

“Well, there’re usually two and the other one should’ve been in the same room with the one watching the monitor – that’s so they can keep each other awake – but he’s not so that could mean Bedlow’s only got the one tonight. Or, he had to take a leak.”

I thought for a moment. “Are there motion triggered lights on the property, or a camera inside the garage? Alarms?” Either of those features would be harder to bypass.

“Nah. No motion lights or alarms. Bedlow’s not worried about break-ins here. The cameras watch the front, back, and sides of the house. He’s got ones watching the neighborhood entrance, and a few places on the surrounding wall. That’s probably how they spotted Morgan.” He gave a tight smile. “He tried putting them around the entire neighborhood, so he could watch everybody all the time but they kept disappearing – or coming up broken. Somebody finally reported the snooping to the city police and they came out and talked to him. Then they went down to the Semptor and talked to his boss. Henderson called him in. He didn’t like having the cops come in here so Bedlow had to remove the ones still working and quit putting them up.” He cocked his head. “We going in?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

I looked back at the window. The guard was still asleep and the other one hadn’t showed up. Either he was doing more than taking a leak or he wasn’t there. It was cold and growing later. We had to get a move on.

“Okay. Stay low and follow me.”

Crouching, we moved through a gap in the holly bushes and ran down the slope. Percy slipped and muttered a low curse. Duncan pulled him to his feet and we continued across the yard, keeping below the windows on the front of the house – which also didn’t have curtains. We reached the garage and I tested the side door’s knob. It turned. I shook my head. Somebody had left it unlocked. Either Bedlow wasn’t real smart – or he had excessive confidence. I guess since he’d never been bothered, he put his trust in the cameras and the guard watching them, and didn’t do a personal check.

We slid silently into the dark, two-car garage. I pulled out my flashlight and swung it around. The only vehicle parked there was a model I hadn’t seen in a while, a black Chevy sedan. I swept my light around. Two cans, one for trash and the other for recycling, sat against a wall, and there were several shelves, most of which were empty. A plastic gas container occupied one, and a couple of oil cans sat on another. Neatly folded rags were on a bottom shelf. Up a couple of wooden steps, my light came to rest on the door into the house. I listened. No alarms or outcry so that meant the guard was either still asleep or hadn’t seen us enter.

I went up the steps and tried the knob of the entry door. Locked. I checked it. A simple knob-lock, sometimes called a credit-card lock, no deadbolt. Easy. There were no longer any credit cards, however, I had something that would work just as well. I pulled out my wallet and removed my plastic library card. I threaded it through the crack and slipped it between the frame and lock, leaned on the door and it quietly popped open. I looked into a dimly lit kitchen. I doused my light and listened for footsteps but heard nothing. The house was still.

I reached down and took the 9mm from my boot, and tucked it in my jacket pocket. The guys stared but they didn’t say anything. I wasn’t after killing anyone unless I had to, and I figured the small gun would be enough to scare the guard. It also wouldn’t inflict a whole lot of damage or be as loud if I had to use it. I could get to my mini .45 or my .357 fast enough if I needed to inflict more damage. I unfastened my jacket and handed Duncan the .45 I’d taken from the guard earlier.

I whispered, “Take this. Easier to operate at close quarters than a rifle. You and Percy go get Bedlow. Lem, come with me.”

Duncan eyeballed the gun, probably recognizing it as the type issued to the guards. “Where did you get this?”

“Tell you later, and don’t fire it unless you have to. Now let’s get going.”

We moved through the kitchen and entered a hall. Duncan pointed down the hall, indicating the way to the room with the guard, and he and Percy paused outside a door. I wanted to get to the surveillance room without alerting the guard so I mouthed, “wait”, and he nodded. I got up the short hall and when I saw the light from the room, I waved him in as Lem and I rushed the last few feet and burst in on the sleeping guard. I heard the ruckus from down the hall as Duncan and Percy accosted Bedlow but the deeply asleep guard didn’t stir.

Lem unslung his rifle as I kicked the side of the chair. The guard’s eyes flew open and his head snapped up as he came awake. His eyes widened. So did mine. I knew why the guard that took Morgan had limped. He’d gotten fatter since the last time we’d met but I never forget a face.

His mouth dropped open and he gasped. “Tennessee Murray! Wh… what’re you doin’ here?”

I wasn’t surprised he remembered me. “Abe Harlow. I might ask the same of you, but I won’t. Put your hands where I can see them. Where’s the girl?”

He raised his hands in the air. “What girl? Ain’t seen no girl here! How’d you git in?”

Lem pointed his rifle, and Harlow flinched and threw his eyes on him. “Hey, I ain’t done nothing! I swear I ain’t seen no girl!”

I looked at him. “Let me see your hands.”

“Huh?”

“Your hands, lay them on the table.”

He laid them down. There was bruising on the knuckles of his right hand. Looking closely, I noticed red welts on his face. Looked like Morgan got him down his left cheek. And then the bastard had hit her. My anger rose.

“You’ve seen her. Now, where is she?”

He looked scared. “I done told you, I ain’t—”

I moved fast and he screamed as my knife pinned his sleeve to the table. I pulled it out.

“The next one will be in your hand. Now, answer my question.” I heard Duncan and Percy coming.

He started blubbering as he looked past me. “M… M… Mr. Bedlow! I swear don’t know how they got in here! I ain’t told them nothin’!”

Duncan and Percy had Bedlow by the arms and walked him up to me. His hair flopped over his forehead and he wore a black suit. I wondered if he took it off to sleep. If he slept.

“This asshole was in a bed that stands him almost on his head – and still in his suit, Tenn,” said Duncan. “Told you he was a weirdo!”

So, he didn’t take it off to sleep. That was weird.

I motioned at the chair beside the one in which Harlow sat and Percy shoved him down. I stood over him.

Bedlow craned his head up, squinting. I could tell he recognized me. He gripped the arms of the chair.

“Mr. Bedlow. I see you remember me. Good. Then you know I’m a reasonable man. I’m looking for a young woman. Your guard says he hasn’t seen her. I don’t believe him. Where is she?”

He did a hard swallow and said, “He is correct. There is no woman here.” Then he did that giggle thing he’d done the first day I saw him.

I didn’t have time for his lies. I stabbed him in the hand and the knife went all the way through and into the arm of the chair. Along with bluish blood, a rancid, oily smell hit our noses. Bedlow screeched. It had a giggling effect mixed in with it. I wrenched my knife out, and he grabbed his hand and held it up for a minute and the bleeding stopped. The wound began to close.

And that removed my last shred of doubt about what he was, and any last sliver of uncertainty in my mind about the doctor’s findings dissipated.

Harlow gasped, I think Duncan did, too, but I wasn’t looking.

“God! What th’ fuck are you?” burst from Percy.

“Jesus!” That was Lem. He looked wide-eyed at me. “Is he some kinda robot?”

Harlow was trying to lean away from Bedlow, his face ashen as he sucked in air.

I ignored them. “Tell me where she is or I will cut your throat.”

His eyes narrowed and he sneered. “I don’t believe you. You won’t do that. If—”

I shook my head. “Last chance, Bedlow.”

He glared at me silently, and blinked. Twice. And I saw the alien in him, even more plainly than the odd blood because he blinked with two sets of eyelids.

One thought beat at me. They could have warned us.

They. Could. Have. Warned. Us.

The rage that I kept carefully in check unfurled and roared into being, and in sharp relief, images from the most horrifying day of my life flashed in my head. Of its own volition, my arm shot out and the razor sharp knife in my hand flashed across his throat.

I had not been able to stop myself.

Chapter Thirty-three

ONE WOULD THINK HIS THROAT WOULD SPRAY blood everywhere but it didn’t. He gurgled, his eyes already glazing over as the oily smelling blue blood simply rolled out over his neck and down the front of his black suit. He slumped in the chair his head lolling back, the slash in his throat an obscene gaping smile. My hand only trembled slightly as I wiped my knife on the chair and shoved it in my pocket. I probably shouldn’t have killed him before I got some answers, but the move had been almost instinctual. I didn’t regret it.

The guys, wearing horrified expressions, had their eyes on Bedlow and I guess Harlow thought he’d make his move. He jumped up and was jerking his gun from its holster when I shot him. He screamed and grabbed his arm, flopping back down in the chair, the gun falling to the floor. I stuck out a foot and dragged it away from him. Neither Duncan nor the other two guys even flinched at the gunshot, and Lem, his eyes still on Bedlow, reached down almost absently and picked up the gun, and stuck it in his pocket.

Harlow, holding his arm, looked up at me slack jawed. “You shot me!” he whined.

No one paid him any attention.

Duncan finally tore his eyes away from Bedlow and peered at me. He seemed dazed. “Um, is this what the girl found out, what made her run?” he asked.

I took a breath, searching for calmness. I nodded. “Partially. There’s more and I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I need you to check the house.” I didn’t think Morgan was anywhere in the house but I wanted to make sure.

He nodded and darted out the door. I looked down at Harlow. I didn’t know whether he’d ever served any time on that assault charge but if he had, it hadn’t taught him not to hit women. I wondered why he’d come to Charlotte since he knew I lived here. I suppose he may have thought he was safe from me in Blue Heaven. He should’ve stayed in South Carolina.

“Remember I told you I’d shoot you if I ever saw you again and I wouldn’t be aiming for your foot,” I said softly. “You should learn to listen.” I aimed the gun at his head. “The next one won’t be in your arm. Now, where is the young woman?”

Shaking, his eyes fixed on the gun, he whined again, “I was jist doin’ what I was told! Me an’ Slim had jist got here for our shift. Mr. Bedlow told me that girl they was lookin’ for was caught at th’ gateway an’ for us to take th’ jeep an go git ‘er. We got back here an’ she was supposed to stay here but then Mr. Henderson called an’ said he wanted ‘er down to th’ Semptor so they took ‘er.” He groaned. “Please, git me to a doctor! I don’t wanna die!”

I heard a trickling sound and smelled urine. I looked down. He’d pissed himself. Again.

Lem, frowning at Harlow, said, “You know this guy?”

“We’ve met.”

He glanced at Percy who raised an eyebrow.

“He ever do that before? Piss his pants, I mean.”

“He has.”

Percy shook his head. “Weak bladder, huh?”

I shrugged. “Could be.”

I looked back at Harlow and raised an eyebrow but he didn’t seem to notice he’d wet his pants. “You’re not dying, Harlow. Now, who took the girl and how long ago?”

He groaned again. “Mr. Henderson sent Ken Talbert to git ‘er an’ Slim went with ‘em ‘bout forty-five minutes ago.”

So, that sack of shit was up and moving. Should’ve put a bullet in that kneecap. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.

“Was she conscious when they left?”

He babbled, “Yeah, well, she passed out before we brung ‘er here an’ she was coming ‘round but she said ‘er head hurt so Ken gave ‘er two pills an’ said it was aspirin but it wasn’t because in a few minutes she acted like she was gonna pass out agin.”

Passed out? No, the asshole had cold-cocked her. I started to shoot him again but I restrained myself. For the time being. No telling what Talbert had given her but I had to believe it wasn’t anything that might kill her. Henderson needed her alive. Still, we needed to get moving.

Duncan came back in. “The house is empty, Tenn.”

Percy said, “What is Bedlow? He sure as hell can’t be human!”

I looked over at the alien. I half-way thought he might seal off his throat and wake up, but he was still dead. I guess he couldn’t heal a gash that big. Especially since he’d leaked out a lot of the stinking gore. He looked sort of deflated, too, and his skin had turned gray. Definitely dead.

“No. He wasn’t human, Percy, and his boss isn’t human. None of those people in the living quarters at Semptor are human, either. They’re all aliens and they’re here to finish what started seven and a half years ago. They want our world.”

Lem, his eyes showing white all around, said, “Gawddam! They th’ ones what brought th’ Event, ain’t they! I knew it! Them motherfuckers killed just about everybody!”

Not exactly accurate but I didn’t correct him. It was close enough.

Percy, his voice filled with outrage, said, “Son of a bitch!”

Duncan was staring at me. He said, “How do you know, Tenn?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, Duncan. But first I have to go get Morgan.”

Harlow, practically in tears, moaned, “What about me? Don’t leave me here with no goddam alien! What if he ain’t really dead?”

I glanced at Bedlow again, who had deflated even further. “He’s dead,” I said. I looked at Harlow’s arm. The bullet hit him in the right forearm and the bleeding had already stopped. I shot him with the 9mm. He should’ve been glad I hadn’t used the .45 – or the .357. In that case, he wouldn’t have an arm. And would be in the process of bleeding to death.

“Let’s get him to his feet. Get his handcuffs Duncan.”

Gripping their rifles tightly, Percy and Lem followed us out. I don’t think they wanted to be alone with Bedlow’s body. I didn’t blame them.

We handcuffed Harlow to the sink elbow in the powder room, and turned to leave. He immediately began hollering that we were leaving him to die because that alien was going to come back to life and eat him.

“Then you need to be very, very quiet so he won’t hear you in here, don’t you?” said Duncan as we started out the powder room door.

Harlow, eyes popping, promptly snapped his mouth shut. As I closed the door, I shook my head at the pissy idiot sitting there on the floor. I probably should’ve shot him with the .357.

I studied my impromptu partners. “Okay. I’m going down to Semptor to get my client’s sister. After seeing that… alien… in there, and knowing there are others, I’ll understand if you don’t want to go with me, but I could use your help.”

“You don’t think they woulda killed her, do you?” asked Lem a worry frown bunched between his eyebrows.

I shook my head. “No. they want something from her sister. Killing her wouldn’t serve that purpose.” I pulled out my knife and reloaded it into its spring holder up my sleeve. Then I stuck the 9mm back into its slot in my boot. I studied the men.

They looked at each other. Then they all nodded. “We’re going with you, Tenn,” said Duncan. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but we can’t let you go in there by yourself.”

I was touched. And grateful. “Okay. Let’s go.”

I checked my watch. Two forty-five. Time was moving along at a fast clip.

Many of my tracking jobs involved my having to come up with on the spot solutions. While this case was proving to be more complicated than usual, the situation was familiar. A plan began forming and as we went back down the hall, I swung into Bedlow’s room.

“Why’re you stopping here?” asked Percy.

“I need Bedlow’s car keys. I don’t believe he would’ve slept with them in his pocket so they’re probably in here somewhere,” I said scanning the room past the raised bed. I hoped he hadn’t had them on him. I definitely didn’t want to go back and search his pockets though I would if necessary.

There was a dresser with no mirror and a tall wooden cabinet or wardrobe. The dresser top was bare but with a sense of relief, I spotted a key ring on an oddly shaped table across from the bed. There was also a metallic, rectangular object lying beside the keys. It bore a slight resemblance to a pencil case but I didn’t think that’s what it was.

I picked it up and studied it. A little shorter than a six-inch ruler, it was about a quarter inch thick and two inches wide. There was a depression on either end. I turned it over. There were three lines inscribed in what I took to be writing because it was the same as was in the records we’d gone through on the doctor’s computer before he activated the translator. I held it up to Duncan.

“Have you ever seen this before?”

He took it, turning it over. Then he frowned and shook his head. “Nope. Never.” He handed it back.

I hesitated then stuck it in my back pocket. Dr. Bennett would appreciate getting his hands on more of the Binqua technology. I picked up the keyring, checked to make sure one of the keys had the Chevy logo, and we headed to the garage. I switched on the light. No need for stealth at the moment. I picked up the gas container. It held five gallons and was full. The rags would work. I swept my eyes around. The only other things needed were glass bottles. I didn’t see any.

“What do you have in mind, Tenn?” asked Duncan.

I had a question of my own before I answered his. “Do they ever lock the gate down at Semptor?”

“Well, no. There’s never been any reason to. They’ve got cameras all over the place and some of the people… the aliens… living down there are always on patrol.”

The patrol and the cameras indicated there’d been trouble in the past. Apparently, in spite of the difficulties in getting around Blue Heaven, some folk were willing to give it a shot in order to, say, pick up some goodies from the company warehouses without paying.

The cameras would be a problem but I nodded. “Okay. We’re going in there and we need some added firepower.” I smiled. “How good are you guys at throwing?”

“Um, pretty good, I guess,” said Duncan eyeballing me.

“Have you ever heard of a Molotov cocktail?”

He stared at me. Then getting it, he nodded. Percy and Lem looked puzzled until he explained.

“There’s only one problem,” he said. We’re gonna need bottles and I don’t see any in here.

“Yes, I know. Okay, let’s do some searching. And Lem and Percy – only glass will do, or crockery. No plastic.”

They went back inside while I checked the cans. The one for trash was empty but I quickly found two pink glass bottles and a bunch of plastic water bottles in the recycling can. I guess Bedlow was into saving the environment – for the Binqua.

I pulled out the glass bottles. Two were probably enough but more would be better. I hoped the guys could find more, but I’d make do if they didn’t. I tore the rags into strips, stuffed one into each bottle and poured in the gas, making sure not to fill them all the way up. I was twisting the caps down tightly when they came back out.

Duncan was grinning. “Nothing in the kitchen but look what Percy found.”

Percy stepped from the door with an armful of what looked like twelve-ounce beer bottles followed by Lem bearing a few more. Between them, there were ten.

I lifted an eyebrow. “Where’d you get those?”

Percy grinned. “From th’ cabinet in th’ bedroom. They’ve got some kinda liquid in them. I opened one an’ took a sniff.” He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “They look like beer bottles but whatever’s in them ain’t beer.” He set them down on the garage floor.

I held one up. It resembled the two from the recycle bin, and didn’t look very thick. They should break easily. I removed the screw-down cap and brought the bottle to my nose. It smelled like a cross between ammonia and manure. I grimaced. Some type of alien drink, I supposed.

Wondering if it would burn, I asked, “Anybody got a light?”

Lem had matches, Percy and Duncan had lighters. I poured a small amount from one of the bottles onto the floor, and held a match to it. The match fizzled.

“Dump them out. I don’t know what that is but it’s not flammable.”

They began pouring the liquid out into the trash can and handing me the bottles. Duncan helped insert the rag wicks and I quickly filled each one about three quarters full. We tightened down the lids, then wiped down the outsides thoroughly. In about fifteen minutes, we had them ready. It would be enough.

Duncan handed me a lighter and we piled into the car.

“Okay,” I said, as I cranked it up. “Let’s do this.”

Chapter Thirty-four

IT WAS HARD TO SEE BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO advertise, so I drove with the lights out.

It didn’t take long to reach Semptor Labs, and as before, the stinging in my eyes increased that close to the company, though it currently wasn’t as irritating as it was on the day I’d gotten lost.

I didn’t drive all the way to the gate. Instead, I swung the car around so that it pointed back the way we’d come and parked it about a hundred feet away pulling to the side near the trees. We got out taking the Molotov cocktails and the gas container with us. We kept close to the trees as we approached the company gate. There was a jeep parked directly in front of it, a Wrangler, the kind with a retractable fabric top popular with off roaders before the Event.

“That’s the jeep the guards use,” said Duncan. “Must be what they used to bring your girl down. Wonder why they left it out here? Normally, anybody going in by car drives around to the vehicle gate and into the lot. You have to go about three blocks to get to it but if Morgan was as groggy as Harlow said, and they had to carry her, you’d think they would’ve used it.”

I considered it for a moment. This gate was closer to a building. “Perhaps they didn’t want to bother with driving around to the parking lot. Maybe they expected to dump her and come right back out.” I wondered why they hadn’t returned, though. There’d been plenty of time.

I looked out across the lighted lot. It was the only place in Blue Heaven where I’d seen that many lights in the same place that actually worked. All the buildings were dark except the nearest one. Light glowed in three of the big front windows on the second floor.

“What’s in that building, Duncan?” I asked.

“That’s Henderson’s main office. He’s got a smaller office in an extension he added on the other side but since the lights are on in his main office, I figure he’s there.”

The add-on wasn’t visible from our position but it had to be the one Dr. Bennett had mentioned. There was no way to be sure of where they had Morgan but I didn’t think she was in the extension, or in the living quarters. Because of the lights, my bet was she was somewhere in the main office.

I checked out the row of delivery vans and trucks parked on the lot where the pavement picked up at the bottom of the grassy slope.

“How’re we gonna git down there without bein’ seen?” asked Percy.

“Yeah, Tenn. They have cameras all over the place. No way we can sneak up on them,” added Duncan.

That was an observation I’d already made.

Unless… “What about those trees over there?” I asked Duncan. There were two strands on either side of the paved path that led down from the gate, but I was most interested in the one to our right that marched down the slope almost to the side of the building.

“There’re a few cameras in the trees, too. Hard to get through them without being seen.”

If they were diligent about watching those cameras, they would see us no matter which way we went, but the trees might afford us a little protection and if we could create a diversion…

I judged the distance from where the trees ended to the lot. Only about fifty feet. From there, I could throw far enough to reach the first couple of vehicles. I was pretty sure the guys could, too. We needed a distraction until we could get down the approximately two hundred feet to the bottom. Something that might take attention away from the cameras.

“How can we get in without going through the front door?” I asked.

Duncan pointed. “See the door on this side? That’ll get us in, and there’s also a back door.”

“They keep them locked?”

“I don’t know.”

I nodded. The back door was going to be better and I could get it opened if necessary. And I thought of a use for the jeep.

I studied the gate and the path leading down. Wide enough.

“We’re not going to exactly sneak,” I said. “I believe Morgan is somewhere in Henderson’s office building, up where the lights are, so that’s where we have to go. But we need a diversion. Hand me the gas can. This jeep is about to take a trip.”

Duncan cocked his head over, then said, “I believe I see what you have in mind but it won’t have enough speed to do much damage by just pushing it. Slope’s not steep enough.”

“We won’t be pushing it.” I pulled the jeep’s driver side door open and peered in.

“What’re you doing?” asked Lem. “You’re ain’t gonna drive it down, are you? They bound to see you, and how’re you gonna get it started?”

“I don’t intend to drive it down, but If they’re watching, they’ll see us anyway, Lem, and I’ll start it with the key.” I held it up. I could’ve started it without the key but having it was better. And a little quicker.

Percy shook his head. “You mean th’ dummies left it?”

“No reason to take it,” said Duncan shrugging. “Nobody in Blue Heaven bothers the jeep.”

Until now.

I peered back into the jeep and spotted a metal cup in a holder. It had old coffee in it, which I dumped and poured in gas. I got in and switched on the power without starting the jeep. I pushed the switch to open the windows, found the one to retract the fabric top, then I turned the power back off. I dumped the rest of the gas over everything except the driver’s side. It was a five-gallon can and was full except for the amount I’d used for the incendiary bombs and what I’d put into the cup, which totaled less than a gallon, so it was quite a bit. I had Lem start dipping the cocktail wicks into the cup of gas.

I needed something to hold down the jeep’s accelerator. I looked around. There were no convenient heavy rocks lying about – or none I could see in the dark. Puffing out a breath of frustration because the longer this took the greater the chances were that someone was going to notice us on one of those cameras and come running, I looked in the back of the jeep. Nothing there except an x shaped lug wrench. It gave me an idea.

I went back to the driver’s side, pulled the thick floor mat forward until it covered the accelerator, mashing it down. To keep it that way, I set the lug wrench on top of it on its end, turning it so one side wedged snuggly under the seat and the other under the dashboard. It would do. I got in and turned the ignition. It started up with the engine racing. I was going to have to be fast.

“Open the gate.”

Duncan pushed until it swung back and banged against the fence. I slammed the jeep into gear and jumped, rolling from it as it cleared the gate. It was a dangerous move but one I’d made before. The timing had to be right but I knew it could work. The jeep shot forward heading straight for the first delivery van. Unless it hit something that turned it too much to the left, it would hit the van broadside. The open driver side door caused it to veer slightly to the right but it was almost a straight clean shot and within seconds, it made a satisfying loud crash as it smacked into the van, pushing it into the one beside it. It kept revving and its front end bounced up, as if it was trying to mount the van.

By that time, the guys had run through the entry and into the trees carrying the cocktails, and I scrambled to join them. We got to the edge of the trees and I grabbed one of the cocktails, lit it, took aim, and lobbed it hard toward the growling jeep.

I threw it trying to hit the pavement behind it so that the flaming gas would run down and make contact with the jeep from its underside where some of the gas spread over the interior was dripping. I threw it too high and the bottle sailed over, hit the flat metal frame on top of the jeep and shattered. Even better. There was a flare as the cocktail fuel ignited and rained down inside, and a whoosh as fire hit the gas that was all over the seats.

We lit and threw more cocktails towards the vehicles. They hit the pavement, breaking and spreading flames beneath them. Then we exited the trees and ran down the side of building. As we sped toward the back, apparently one of our bombs got lucky with a gas tank because a loud blast sent a bright ball of fire out into the night. By the time we rounded the corner and headed for the back door, there was a full-fledged conflagration out front – and a lot of hollering had started.

We got through the door – apparently, none of the Binqua believed in checking so it was unlocked – and sprinted up the stairwell to the second floor. We burst through the doors at the top – and right into a gaggle of Binqua milling in the hall. I didn’t know how many there were but if they had guns, they weren’t using them.

I plowed in and took one to the floor. He let loose with one of those weird giggles as I punched him in the face, then I hit the release on my knife and slashed down. Oily blue blood flew and I rolled off. Duncan, Lem, and Percy, without knives and too close to use their rifles, were each grappling with an opponent, punching and kicking, and I was coming to my feet, ready to take on another when suddenly, the back of my head exploded and everything grayed out before going dark.

Chapter Thirty-five

LIGHT GRADUALLY FILTERED IN. I WAS LYING on the floor on my back staring up at a white ceiling. I brought my eyes down, and found myself looking at Talbert.

He was sitting stiffly in a hard backed wooden chair holding my .357. Oddly, he wasn’t looking at me and the gun wasn’t pointed in my direction.

Instead, his face was pale and he looked scared as he stared at something behind me. I remained still. I closed my eyes to a slit and slid them to the left. Duncan, Lem, and Percy, wearing frustrated looks, were sitting on the floor with their hands on top of their heads. From that, I didn’t think we were still in the hall.

Duncan flicked his eyes at me but the only indication from him that he’d noticed I was conscious was a slight widening of his eyes. Judging by the muffled noises coming from out front, I hadn’t been out long, only a matter of a few minutes.

“What th’ fuck is up with y’all?” said a voice from near where the aliens had to be. “Y’all some kinda freaks… ain’t no human got blood like that, y’all some goddamn UFO aliens! Whadda you really want with th’ girl? I thought all y’all wanted was to put a little heat on her sister… to git a better deal. What, y’all gonna stick something up her ass or something? Naw, naw, that ain’t right…” he trailed off muttering to himself.

I gathered the voice belonged to the guard who’d helped cart Morgan down to the company. He was likely upset at having seen – and smelled – the blood of the alien I’d slashed. I’d cut the Binqua’s throat so he was probably dead. The other Binqua were behind me, near what I thought must be the door to the room, and no doubt were staring at the big gun Talbert was holding. They were quiet. I wondered where Henderson was and got my answer in the next moment.

“Y’all just stay right where you are,” said Talbert, his voice strained. “We’re gonna all just stay here quietly, and wait on Mr. Henderson to finish handling that shit out front.” He looked to where the guard was. “Slim, bring Morgan over here. I don’t want her near these… these… freaks until we find out what the fuck’s going on.”

There was a shuffling noise and Slim stepped around me half-walking, half-carrying a dazed Morgan. There was probably a chair or couch back there since, in that condition, she wouldn’t have been able to stand for long. He lowered her into a chair where she slumped to one side.

He was not the guard who’d been with Talbert before. I guess that one stayed behind this time. He probably had a headache – and a sore tongue.

I’d kept my eyes narrowed to a slit so I couldn’t see much, but Morgan didn’t look good. Slim stayed beside her squatting down next to her chair. He had a .45 in one hand but he and Talbert were keeping their eyes and guns on the aliens, more interested in them than in us.

I remained motionless and took inventory. I felt all right. Again, my hard head had sustained only minor damage. It hurt and it would be sore the next day, but there was no dizziness or nausea and I could ignore the headache. I was still wearing my jacket though it had been opened and the gun removed from my shoulder holster. The knife I’d used to slash the alien was gone. They hadn’t been very thorough and had missed the mini .45 up my sleeve.

I didn’t intend to lie there until Henderson showed up but I was going to have to act fast. I rolled my eyes back to Duncan and he was looking at me. I slid my eyes toward Slim, who was concentrating on the aliens, and raised an eyebrow. Duncan gave an almost imperceptible nod. His elbow touched Percy’s and Percy shot a look at him, and then noticed me. He leaned slightly forward, bumping Lem at the same time. Lem frowned at him until he motioned with his eyes, and Lem looked at me. I shut one eye completely and they kept theirs on me.

I sprang into action, coming up and covering the few feet to Talbert in a jump. Once in motion, my head spun for a second but I managed to slam into him. I squeezed his hand, forcing him to drop the gun. He yelled as his chair went over, crashing us both to the floor with me on top. He looked stunned. I snatched up the gun and rolled off him, turning in time to blow a large hole in one of the Binqua who’d come unfrozen and started toward us.

While I was handling Talbert, Duncan crashed into Slim. He knocked him into the corner and punched him in the jaw, cracking his head against the floor. Duncan grabbed his gun from where it landed when they fell.

Percy and Lem lunged for something on the other side of me and when I heard gunfire, I realized they’d gone for their guns.

“Look out, Tenn!” shouted Duncan as two more Binqua ran forward. They didn’t actually seem to be trying to rush me; instead they were going for something on the floor.

I was on one knee and I snapped the release for my mini .45, and fired both guns getting both aliens. I blasted another one as Duncan, Lem, and Percy fired their weapons. We kept shooting until they all lay on the floor in a spreading pool of stinking oily gore, not moving. I didn’t think they were going to be able to heal themselves. It was over in less than a minute. Duncan had exhausted the bullets from the .45 he’d taken from Slim so he threw it down and picked up his rifle while also retrieving the .45 I’d given him back at Bedlow’s house.

That’s when I noticed the object I’d taken from Bedlow’s room had fallen from my back pocket as I jumped Talbert. The Binqua were trying hard to get it. That was interesting. I was definitely going to have to remember to have Dr. Bennett take a look at it. I grabbed it and this time, I shoved it into one of my inside jacket pockets.

I stood, reloading the mini from the ammo stash inside my jacket. There was no time to put it into its holder so I stuck it in a pocket. Talbert started to get up. I pointed the .357 at him and moved over to where Morgan still sat, her head weaving in a circle. From the corner where he’d slid when Duncan tackled him, Slim groaned and began to sit up.

“I’m taking Morgan, and we’re leaving,” I said softly. “If you want to stay here and wait for Henderson, help yourself. He’s one of them too, and I imagine he’s not going to be thrilled about this.”

The guys held their guns on them while I got Morgan to her feet. She wobbled like a top and started to collapse. I caught her under an arm, holding her up. She said something, her words slurring badly but I was able to make out “dickless sonofabitch”. I almost smiled. I lifted up her chin and studied her eyes. She was almost unconscious but she was mad and still trying to fight. I had a feeling that if he was anywhere near her when she came to, Talbert was in for another cussing out and a possible kick to the balls.  At the moment, though, she wasn’t going to be able to walk, let alone run. She was fairly small so I got her across my shoulder.

Duncan stared at me. “Hey, man, I’ll carry her if you want.”

“I’ve got her,” I said. I knew he was just trying to spare an “old man.” I smiled. “I’m not as old as I look.”

One of his eyebrows went up. “Uh, how old are you?”

“Thirty-two. Okay, let’s get out of here.” We certainly didn’t have time to stand around talking about my age.

He looked surprised but he nodded.

I looked down and noticed our two leftover Molotov cocktails. The nitwits had brought them in, too. There were also three strange objects lying there. They were black and vaguely gun-shaped. I’d never seen anything like them but guessed they were weapons. Talbert and Slim must’ve taken them from the aliens once they saw the one I’d killed. Odd. There had been ten – eleven counting the one I’d killed out in the hall – but they’d only had three weapons between them. I began to wonder if they were really fighters but it was something on which I could speculate later. I turned to the guys.

“Get the cocktails and those… whatevers… and come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” I didn’t hear any running footsteps so the sounds still coming from outside may have muffled the gunfire but best to get moving.

Duncan nixed the funny guns. “Leave ‘em. Whatever they are they don’t work. They pointed them at us and I think they tried to shoot but nothing happened. They’re either out of ammo – or broken.”

I nodded and headed for the door past the leather chaise were Morgan must have been resting because her jacket was lying there. I picked it up, tossed it to Duncan, and maneuvered around the remains of the Binqua. Lem scooped up the cocktails as he went out ahead of me. Duncan picked up one of the odd weapons anyway, and he and Percy followed us out. I supposed he wanted a souvenir. Lem headed down the hall. He obviously knew the stairwell’s direction so I followed him since I’d been unconscious when taken to the room.

We passed a room where I glanced in and noticed a table stacked with rifles. That indicated the Binqua had more than those funny guns of theirs. They had also acquired a number of ours. There wasn’t time to do anything about those.

We came up on the alien I’d killed in the hall, and behind me I heard, “Wait!” Talbert came limping from the room followed by Slim, who was rubbing the back of his head. “We’re going with you!”

I shrugged and kept going. I didn’t care whether they came or not. I wasn’t there to save them. Lem threw open the door to the stairs and started down. I clattered behind him followed by Percy and Duncan who were followed by Talbert and Slim.

We got to the bottom where Lem opened the door cautiously and peered out. He stepped outside and motioned to us. We went out hugging the side of the building. The noise had died down out front but as we hustled down to the corner I could see flickering from still burning fires.

Someone shouted something in a strange language and Talbert whispered, “That’s Mr. Henderson! He really is one of them!”

I shifted Morgan to get a better grip, and eyed him. Idiot. If we made it out, I’d deal with him then. I turned towards the fence. Going up the hill through the strand of trees was our only choice. This was taking longer than I wanted. I hoped they were all concentrating on the fire and not watching the monitors. Morgan hung limp on my shoulder. She was wearing a long sleeved shirt so I trusted she wouldn’t become too cold because I wasn’t going to stop to get her into the jacket.

We started up the hill dodging through the trees, and reached the fence where we exited the strand. We were nearing the gate when a bright flash lit up the ground in front of us. A smell similar to the one of the heated metal on the burning vehicles hit my nose. I pulled up. The gate and a long section of the fence were melting where the light touched. Damn. They had lasers. I felt as if we were in a bad sci-fi movie.

We ducked back into the trees.

“Get down!” I yelled. Everyone got low. As I crouched, Morgan slid from my shoulder to the ground. She moaned and lay still. I did a fast check. She was breathing.

Another flash came from behind us and everybody flattened to the ground. More burning metal. Either they were the worst shots in existence or they didn’t want to kill Morgan. Probably the latter so I figured them to be warning shots. Sure enough, in the next instant, a voice boomed out over a loud speaker in that weird accent.

“Return the woman, and you will be allowed to leave without harm!”

Sure we would. Right up until we handed her over.

Still, they could decide to give up on that tactic and then we’d all be fried meat. I crawled to where I could see the parking lot. The lamplights were still working but even if they went out, seeing wouldn’t be a problem as it was still lit up from the burning vehicles. A couple of figures were crouching near an apparatus that bore a strong resemblance to an old-fashioned satellite dish.

“Hey, man, we can’t give her to them! No telling what they’ll do to her. All that damn probing an’ shit you hear about—” started Slim.

“Shut up, fool! Nobody’s giving her to them! Besides, she’s the only reason we’re still alive!” That was Talbert. At least he had that much sense.

My mind raced and hit on an iffy idea. “Lem, give me the cocktails!”

He handed them over.

“Okay, as soon as you see a flash down there, make a run for it. Percy, get Morgan. I’ll follow as fast as I can. Here,” I handed Duncan the car key. “Get to the car. If you don’t see me in a minute, take off anyway.”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I did a fast crawl back down the hill. Hiding behind one of the bigger trees, I pulled out the lighter, lit one of the cocktails, popped up fast, and flung it towards the laser. It broke on the pavement in front of it and the figures beside it scrambled away as flames washed down under the thing. I lit and threw the other one and then sprinted back up the hill. I didn’t bother to see where it hit but it must’ve splashed one of them because I heard a giggling shriek that went up the scale.

I swept through the opening that used to be the gate to see everyone had reached the car except Percy who couldn’t run as fast while carrying Morgan. I caught up and we reached the car together. He threw open the front passenger door and shoved Morgan in and squeezed in beside her. Duncan was waiting outside the driver’s side, and he handed me the key and crammed into the back seat with the others. I glanced in the back and all I saw were gleaming wide-eyes.

I got the car in gear and took off down the path. In a few seconds, I was on Main speeding away from Semptor Labs.

Chapter Thirty-six

TO BE ON THE SAFE SIDE, I TURNED OFF ON THE unnamed street that went past the alley where the Hole in the Wall was, before circling around to Carter Street.

I pulled into the doctor’s driveway. I noticed he was already at the door.

“Why are we stopping here?” asked Talbert. “He’s probably one of them, too!”

“He isn’t,” I said getting out of the car.

Percy got out and reached back in for Morgan. I took her from him, got her over my shoulder and started for the door. I paused and handed Duncan the car key.

“Everyone into the house. Lem and Percy, watch those two. Duncan, take the car somewhere and leave it. I don’t want to take the chance of any of Henderson’s goons seeing it parked here.”

It didn’t take much to figure out that someone might start cruising the neighborhood, looking for us. Henderson would probably be trying to contact his head of security and it wouldn’t take him long to learn he was no longer available. I thought about Abe Harlow handcuffed to the sink. If they went in, they’d find Bedlow’s body and were likely to simply leave. If Harlow wasn’t totally stupid, he’d keep quiet so they wouldn’t find him. Of course, Harlow wasn’t particularly smart. I shrugged. I wasn’t very concerned about Harlow.

We got in and everyone followed me to the livingroom where I laid Morgan on the couch. She was all the way out.

Dr. Bennett went to her, his eyes worried. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Talbert here gave her something.” I turned to him “Harlow said you gave her two pills. What were they?”

He looked contrite. “Um, Mr. Henderson sent me to the drug store to pick them up. They’re one of them new sleeping pills.” He reached in a pocket and brought out a bottle. “He said they’re harmless, that they’d just make her sleepy. But then she about passed out. When we got her down there, he said she had to be conscious so she could talk to her sister and he had me give her one of these other pills to bring her around.” He pulled another bottle. “One of these. She got a little better but started throwing up. Then she got groggy again and he told me and Slim to stay with her until she came around.”

Dr. Bennett took the bottles from him. He read the labels and shook his head, frowning. He pointed to the first bottle. “This is not a sleeping pill. It’s gamma hydroxybutyrate.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Back in the nineteen-nineties, when I was a teenager, they called it “liquid ecstasy”. They’ve tinkered with it since then, to make it safer, but it’s still a horrid drug. There’s a warning on here not to mix it with alcohol and Morgan had two stiff drinks before she left here.”

Well, I never did drugs – except alcohol – but I’d heard of ecstasy. It had a bad reputation.

He shook his head again. “It was causing so many problems that a concerted effort was put forth to create an easily administered antidote because it proved impossible to keep it out of the hands of people who abused it. Right before the Event several methods were developed. I know what will counteract it and this other drug wasn’t the thing to give her.”

He turned to me. “Take her upstairs to her room, Tennessee. I have something that will act as an antidote and it’s simple but it’ll take a while to work.” He left and I heard him going down the hall. He wasn’t a medical doctor so I hoped he knew what he was talking about.

I picked her up. “Everyone take a seat and stay here until I get back.”

Lem already had Harlow’s .45 out and was holding it on the two. Percy had the rifle but it was awkward to hold on someone in close quarters. I fumbled my jacket open and handed him the little .25 I’d taken from Talbert.

“Here. Take this. It won’t hurt them much if you have to shoot them. If you want to hurt them, let Lem use the .45.”

I left them staring silently at each other and headed up the stairs. I settled her onto the bed as comfortably as I could and removed her boots. In a few minutes, the doctor came in. He was carrying what appeared to be two spice bottles. Spice? I didn’t ask.

“I need to get back downstairs, Doctor. I’ve got to figure out what to do with those two blockheads down there, and I’ve got to call Madison.”

He nodded. “Go on, son. I’ll take care of Morgan.”

I started to leave when I thought of the boy. “Hey, where’s Terry?”

He smiled fondly. “Poor little fellow was tuckered. I put him in a bedroom. He’s all right.”

Relieved he hadn’t let the boy go back out alone, I went down stairs.

As I stepped into the silent livingroom, Talbert looked up, his eyes guarded, and said, “The doc called you “Tennessee”. You wouldn’t be Tennessee Murray would you?”

“Yes.” I regarded the two idiots. I didn’t want to have to keep a constant eye on them but I wasn’t letting them go, either. The aliens may have duped them about their agenda but even so, they had agreed to the kidnapping of an innocent young woman.

Slim said his eye stretching, “Gawddam! I heard of you! You that tracker what always finds your man.”

Apparently, Talbert had heard of me, too. He said, “Um, hey, listen man, um, I didn’t know ‘bout them aliens or I never woulda got involved in all this and I wouldna hit you back there. I didn’t see the ugly blood ‘til after that, then me and Slim, well, we knew it wasn’t right. That’s why when we got y’all to the lounge, we made the rest of them put down their guns.” He gave a sick smile.

I just stared at him. None of that made a rat’s ass worth of difference to me.

When I said nothing, he dropped the smile and asked, “Uh, where’s Mr. Bedlow? And Abe?”

“Bedlow was one of them and he’s dead. Harlow’s in a safe place.” Pissy, but safe. “Now, I need to decide what to do with you two.”

“Oh, we ain’t gonna do nothing, Mr. Murray!” said Slim, with a cheesy grin. “We sho ain’t going back down to the Semptor with them UFO aliens. We jist wanna leave.”

I stared at them. Did they really think I’d be dumb enough to let them go? I shook my head. “You’re not leaving.” I heard the doctor coming down.

He came in, and to my questioning look, said “She will awaken in a few hours. She’ll have a bad headache but otherwise, she’ll be fine.” He turned to Talbert, frowning. “No thanks to you. What you gave her could have very well killed her, you know.”

The fool had the nerve to look aghast. “But… but… Mr. Henderson said—”

“I don’t care what he said!” the doctor snapped. “You don’t give someone drugs without knowing what it is you’re giving them, and you don’t do it against their will.” He looked at me. “She also has a bad bruise on her temple. Did this… this… man… do that?” He glared at Talbert.

“No. But I’ve taken care of the one who did. Sir, I need to put these two men somewhere secure. Do you have a room that will hold them for a while?” No telling when we could get law enforcement out here but I wanted them out of commission until we could.

He smiled. “Yes. Bring them and come with me.” he started for the kitchen.

Lem, motioning with the .45 said, “Git up. Don’t do nothing stupid and y’all might live to see another day.”

I followed the doctor to the kitchen to find him standing before a door.

“This leads to my basement. The only way in or out is through this door. And, it can be locked from this side.” He indicated the deadbolt lock. “They’ll be comfortable down there.” He opened the door.

It opened inward into the basement, so not much danger of them kicking it open from the other side. I was curious as to why it operated in that fashion since any other basement door I’d seen opened outward, but it was an old house. Maybe it was simply the way they built them back then.

“Okay.” I marched them down the stairs and I saw why the doctor said they’d be comfortable. It was not a bare-bones basement stuffed full of junk. The place was set up as a lounge with wood paneled walls, and nice chairs and tables. There were magazines, and books on a shelf – not that those bozos were likely to be readers. I noticed a bar in one corner.

“Any liquor in that thing?” asked Slim spotting it and licking his lips.

“Yes, there is,” said the doctor. “You’re welcome to it.”

Generous man. I would’ve removed all the liquor and left them dry. But, he wasn’t me.

They were at the bar pouring themselves drinks as we went back upstairs. I figured that would keep them happy for a while. Until the cops showed up.

Back upstairs, Lem and Percy settled at the counter. The doctor studied them for a moment, then said, “I imagine you boys would like a drink.” At their nod, he pulled out the bottle of scotch.

As I headed to the lab to call Madison, he was also pulling out sandwich materials. On the way, the doorbell rang and I let Duncan in.

“Left the car down on Spruce Street. That’s far enough away so it won’t be connected with this house.” He grinned. “Besides, that’s where Ken Talbert lives. Let them figure that one out.”

I chuckled and pointed him toward the kitchen and continued to the lab. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Madison,” I said when she answered, “She’s safe but she was given some type of drug and the doctor gave her something to counteract it, so she’s asleep.”

She expelled a loud breath. “Oh! Thank God! Somebody who said he was Julius Henderson called and said he had her but he wouldn’t let me talk to her. Henderson is the CEO of the company! Unless this guy was lying about being him, then that means the head of the company is committing a serious crime. Can you believe the CEO of a big company like that would do something like this? He said if I wanted her back I had to come there. I held him on the phone as long as I could, then I promised him I’d come. He said he’d call back to tell me where to meet him but he hasn’t called.” She hesitated. “Should I come there now? I mean, to where you are. I’m worried about Morgan.”

I glanced at my watch. Four a.m. “Stay where you are. As soon as she’s awake, I’ll bring her to you.”

“Well, okay—” there was a noise in the background, and she said in a rush, “Hey, something’s going on outside! I think Henderson’s sent somebody here after all! Call you back!” She hung up.

Damn. Didn’t that asshole ever give up? My rage tried to emerge but I held it in check. I knew my guys could handle it but I wished I were there. I shook my head. Even if I had a car no way would I get there in time to be of any use.

All I could do was wait to hear from her again.

Chapter Thirty-seven

I WENT BACK OUT TO THE KITCHEN.

“Henderson’s sent someone to attack Madison,” I told the doctor as I sat down at the counter. “My guys are still there.” I blew out a breath. “I know they can handle it but it’s tough not being there with them. She’s going to call back as soon as she can.”

Duncan looked up from his sandwich, his eyebrows raised. “You mean that bozo actually sent somebody to attack the head of a company? He must be outta his mind! What does he think’s gonna happen?”

I shrugged. “He knows how fractured our society is. He likely thinks he can get control of her company and ship his machines to wherever he wants them and no one will be available to stop him.” Moreover, he was right; law enforcement simply didn’t have enough manpower.

I didn’t believe his thugs would beat my guys but I was tense and the doctor saw it.

He shook his head as he busily prepared sandwiches.

“Henderson is an arrogant fool. I thought so even before I learned what he is.” He eyed me. “Don’t worry so, Tennessee. If you have confidence in your people then so do I. Here, take this sandwich. You look hungry. Do you want a drink?”

After what we’d been through, I could’ve used one, but I needed to think and alcohol wouldn’t help. It also wouldn’t do much for the part of my mind that was thinking of the fight going on at Madison’s hotel.

I took the sandwich. “Thank you, but I don’t want anything alcoholic. Make it orange juice.”

“Dr. Bennett’s been telling us about what he’s found out about the aliens, Tenn,” said Duncan. He shook his head. “It’s a helluva thing. Those bastards…” he shivered.

“Yeah, the doc says they coulda helped us out,” said Lem. He looked sad. “All the people… my wife…” he did a hard swallow. “Nobody woulda died.”

I remembered that he and Percy, who sat quietly staring into his glass, didn’t live in Blue Heaven. Of course, even folk who lived here had lost someone. They just didn’t see them directly after it happened. Nobody much spoke about that day or the people they’d lost, but it was always there, underneath. I understood.

I had corralled my rage but it was still there, seething beneath my skin. We couldn’t let these sons of bitches continue to get away with what they were doing. There had to be something we could do.

Dr. Bennett said, “Duncan gave me the object he picked up at Semptor. I can’t tell much about it though it appears to be some type of energy weapon. It doesn’t seem to be operable and that could be because when they inhibited our technologies, they weren’t able to fine-tune it, so it would’ve inhibited a number of theirs also. Now, they told me about the weapon used to fire on you when you were making your get-away. It sounds as if it could be a type of laser though much more powerful than any we ever made. It probably works by a different method than this smaller weapon and so it is not affected.”

I remembered the device I’d taken from Bedlow’s house. Those Binqua had seemed anxious to get it. In fact, so anxious they’d died trying. Maybe it was a weapon. I’d taken my jacket off and left it in the lab.

“I’ll be right back, Doctor. I picked up something at Bedlow’s place. You might want to take a look.”

I was back in less than a minute. He studied it, turning it over and looking at the back. His forehead wrinkled.

“I saw something like this in one of the files. As soon as you’re finished eating, we can go to the lab and I’ll look it up.”

“Okay. Sir, what are we going to do about the Binqua? Shouldn’t we notify the federal government about this? Perhaps they can do something. Get some soldiers out here maybe.” I blew out a breath. “We can’t let them finish what they’re doing. They’re not going to get Effingham Shipping to transport their machines, but they are determined to have this world so they’ll find another way.”

The doctor looked thoughtful before saying, “Even though they have managed to maintain the military, there isn’t much of a government left, Tennessee, though you have to give them credit for trying. I do know some people in the Department of Homeland Security and I can contact them but there is one big problem: getting anyone to believe before seeing for themselves that we’re dealing with aliens. Then, if we can convince them to come, there is the added problem that only small firearms work. None of the big missiles are operative. And even if they were, Henderson has some type of force field, a shield he can deploy that will repel any attack on them.”

“He has a shield? How do you know? If he’s got something like that, why didn’t he use it to keep us from escaping?”

“He likely didn’t have time to activate it, Tennessee. I believe it is something he’s not accustomed to using since he arrived on this world. But I know about it because it’s in the files. I’ve seen the schematics for it. I think I could even build one if I had the materials.”

He looked at the strange device again. “The image for this thing was in the same file as the shield.” He looked around noticing we’d finished eating. He stood. “Come, I’m curious to see what this does.”

Duncan, Lem, and Percy had finished their drinks.

“Doc, if you don’t mind, I could use another one,” said Duncan lifting his glass. “Y’all can go look at that thing but my nerves need some more calming.” Lem and Percy obviously felt the same.

Dr. Bennett nodded. “Help yourselves. If you want anything else to eat, feel free to get it. You have been very helpful and I am grateful.”

In the lab, the doctor pulled up the files he’d hacked. He brought up a page and clicked on the translator.

“This is the information on the force field and the shield.” He pointed it out. “Now, here is the image of the device you found at Bedlow’s house.” He clicked and a picture sprang up on the screen.

That was it all right. Except for one thing. “It says here it has three switches, Doctor. I’ve only seen two. Where’s the third?”

He perused the screen, then held up the device, studying it closely. Then he said, “Ah. See the one on each end? Well, look carefully at the middle. There is another, less prominent one.”

I took the thing and stared. It took a minute but I finally saw a slight dip. I nodded. “Okay. I see it. But what does any of them do?”

The doctor went over to another page. “Hmm… here it is. The term for it translates as “canceler” – or that’s as close as it can come in English. Let’s see… hmm… ‘To disable the energy weapon, press switch number two, once. For disabling the force field, press switch number three, twice’. You must be within six hundred feet, though.” He frowned and flipped to another page. “There doesn’t appear to be anything about the third switch, yet. I’ll try another page.” He clicked over and read for a minute. “Well, this passage indicates that if the anomaly is shut down on this side too abruptly, there will be a rebound that will destroy the base from which it operates on the other side.” He looked up at me. “In that case, it cannot be reopened and would be closed forever.”

“That’s good. We want it closed forever. Does it say how to do that?”

He frowned again as he turned back to the page. “There is something untranslatable here for switch number one, which is the one in the middle of the canceler. It refers to the thing that holds the anomaly open, the thing I’ve called a wedge, and here’s an image of the machine I saw, but I don’t understand what the switch does. Whatever it is, you have to be within five feet.”

I stared at the picture of the “wedge”. It was made of what appeared to be some type of shiny metal. It was probably about the size of an office printer or copier though it looked wider and obviously was not a printer because its curvy bulk was egg-shaped with no discernable openings.

I studied the canceler. So, it wasn’t a weapon. Still, it was something that could be used to our advantage. My hopes rose and I began to formulate a plan. “We can shut them down, Doctor! This thing disables their weapon and their shield. Surely if the anomaly is even mentioned, it must be saying this is how to close it off.” And closing it would prevent any more Binqua from coming to Earth. Getting within six hundred feet to shut down their weapon – and their shield if they put it up – would be easy. I could accomplish that without going on the grounds. After that, I would damned sure find a way to get to the wedge.

He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I don’t know, Tennessee. You could be right but whatever association it has with the wedge doesn’t translate into English. We can’t be sure.”

“Those Binqua we took down were awfully anxious to get it when they saw it, Doctor. It fell from my pocket and they immediately went for it. That indicates it must be important.”

“Well, it could simply be because they knew it would disable their lasers and their defensive shields. It’s also possible there is some other reason they fought so hard to get it back, but that may not mean what you think it does because the Binqua don’t necessarily think the way we do. They are highly intelligent, but they are also highly arrogant. I believe that factor causes them to underestimate us as a species. They believe themselves to be the pinnacle of evolution. They don’t always erase people from a planet – simply ones they deem to be especially inferior, which is, unfortunately, their opinion of our species. That attitude I think, has caused them to become mentally lazy.”

I gazed at him thinking that the Binqua weren’t the only ones who sometimes had that “pinnacle of evolution” attitude. That meant that there were some ways in which they thought the same as humans, but at the moment that was neither here nor there so I merely said, “Then I guess that might explain why they seem to make a lot of stupid mistakes.”

He nodded. “Yes, it could but you shouldn’t underestimate them, either. They can get more fighters here if given enough time. I believe the only reason they didn’t already have better ones here is because their original plan wasn’t to wipe us out. It’s also possible they don’t run into many species as aggressive ours, but now that they know, they’re likely to bring—”

The phone rang, startling me. It had to be Madison. I grabbed it.

She sounded dazed. “Tennessee, the fight’s over. Your guys are the best! But, what the fuck were those… those… things… from Semptor? They can’t be human! What the hell is going on?”

I could hear voices in the background and gathered there were others in there with her wondering the same thing.

“Yeah, about that…” I began to give her a quick rundown but she stopped me and put the phone on speaker so the others in the room with her could hear it, too. I started over, giving them everything I knew. I included the fact that the Binqua could’ve given us a heads up well in advance of the Event.

When I finished, everyone in the room was silent. Then after a long moment, Madison said, “Damn.”

I knew what they were thinking, the same thing everyone did when they heard how the Binqua had shafted us.

“That’s why Morgan was upset, Madison. I think she wanted to be with you at that moment and simply didn’t think. She just wanted to leave. Look, I’ve got a plan. Who’s in the room with you?”

“I’m here, Tenn,” said Lowell.

“Me, too, son.” That was Simon.

“And me,” said Buster. “There’re several others here, including some local cops. What do you have in mind?”

“I have a way to take out their main weapon and the thing that’s holding open the anomaly, but I’m going to need help. Are you game?”

“You damned right, I am!” said Buster.

I wasn’t surprised to hear a loud “count me in” from everyone in there.

“Okay. How many of them came after Madison?” I asked.

“About fifty. They had assault style rifles and hand guns.”

“The doctor says there’re around five hundred living on the company grounds so I guess that leaves around four hundred and fifty. Wait, Madison, have you heard from your headquarters in Wilmington?”

“Yes. They’ve not seen any type of activity. I’m thinking Semptor didn’t send anybody there because they thought if they could get Morgan they’d have me and then they’d have the company.”

“Then that means Henderson decided to keep the bulk of his fighters at Semptor to protect their operation. By this time, he’s aware that we know about them, and the doctor says he can get more fighters. We don’t have time to sit around waiting on the government to get soldiers here – that will take too long. Even if they could get them here in a few days – and I don’t believe they can – it would likely be too late. We’re going to have to do this now, today, and we’re going to need everybody we can get. So, Lowell, round up some more fighters – show them one of the bodies if anybody needs convincing – and get here as fast as you can. I’m going to see who we might be able to get here in the neighborhood to help.”

“I’ll get on it, Tenn!” called Lowell.

Madison said, “I’m coming with them, Tennessee. I want to see my sister.”

Understandable.

“Okay. We’ll be waiting.”

I hung up and turned to the doctor. “How many Blue Heaven folk do you think would be willing to help with this?”

“All of them. Anyone who learns about this will be more than willing.”

“Okay. Do you have telephone numbers for some of the people? We can call and get—”

He interrupted. “No, no, we can’t do that. I apologize. I never got around to telling you about the phones.”

I blinked at him. “What about them?” He had said not to use the one in the living room or any of its extensions but he never explained why.

“It’s why we’re using the lab phones. When I began working for Semptor, Henderson insisted on having the line wired so someone at the company could… “audit” is how he put it though it seemed more like snooping to me. He said it was a requirement for working for the company.

“When I asked why, his answer was suspect – a precaution for the welfare of the company and its employees, he said, as though that made sense. Since I only hired on to try and learn about the odd frequencies coming from there, and didn’t intend to remain with them for long, I didn’t ask him to clarify.”

He smiled. “He, of course, didn’t know about the T1 line to my lab. That’s how I run my computers, and how I’ve been able to safely correspond with colleagues who’ve been helpful in verifying the readings I’ve made.”

“Oh.” That explained the equipment on the lab’s wall. “Then I guess we can’t call anyone – which presents another problem. How do we contact them without Henderson finding out what we’re planning?”

“Oh, dear,” said the doctor. “You are correct, that is a problem.”

“I can tell ‘em,” said a voice from the doorway. “I can get them to come to th’ doc’s house. Everybody knows him.”

I turned to see Terry standing there. His face was solemn.

“What are you doing up, son? You should be sleeping,” said Dr. Bennett.

“I was sleep, Doc, but I woke up to go git some water an’ I heard y’all talkin’ in here so I snuck in to listen. I heard what you said about them people at th’ Semptor, ‘bout them bein’ aliens. I wanna help, too. Wasn’t for them, I’d still have my mom an’ dad. I can do it, tell everybody, I mean. I don’t git as lost as everybody. None of the kids do but I’m best at it. I know where everybody lives an’ they know me since I’ve done work for most of ‘em, you know, doin’ errands an’ stuff. Please let me help. I can run very fast.” He stared at us, his anxious brown eyes looking almost black. He waited.

I eyed the doctor. “I thought you said no one here in Blue Heaven died that day.”

“They didn’t. Terrance was here for a sleepover. His mother dropped him off at a friend’s house the night before and went back home. When the father of his friend finally went out to check on them, well, you know what he found. Terrance stayed with them because he had nowhere else to go. Six months later, the family decided to leave Blue Heaven but they already had four children and couldn’t really afford to care for him. They didn’t want to send him to a government facility so when another family said they would take him in they allowed them to do so.”

“Oh.” I had a feeling this other family was treating him pretty much as a servant. It was nothing I hadn’t seen before and it was reprehensible. I made a silent promise that when this was over, I would check to see if that was the case.

I studied the boy. He was eager to get going but as urgent as I felt the situation was, my watch said it was four-twenty and there was no way I would allow him to go out at that time of the morning. I was certain the doctor wouldn’t hear of it either. “Okay, Terry. But wait until daylight. Everyone is likely asleep and it’s Sunday so no one will be trying to go to work. And anyway, I don’t want you running around in the dark.”

The boy’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Yes, sir, Mr. Murray!”

I smiled. “Don’t you want to get in a nap before daylight?”

“No, sir!”

I studied him, then nodded. Keyed up like a kid on Christmas morning, he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“There is one thing I can do to try and help ensure participation, Tennessee,” said the doctor. “Henderson and his people are not well liked. Blue Heaven folk work for the company because it’s the only thing going for them now. Moreover, because of their foreign accents and other oddities, many here are suspicious of them, but being aliens is not the suspicion they have. Their biggest fear is that Henderson will fire them and bring workers from whatever they suppose is his native country.

“So Terry can’t simply tell them the people at Semptor are aliens from outer space and are responsible for the state of our world. Most folk will simply think he’s making up tales and send him away, or even notify Henderson. I’ll draft a letter implying I have information that Semptor is planning do exactly what they’ve feared. That should get them moving. I’ll make copies for Terry to give to each of them.”

I thought it was worth a try, but they wouldn’t be a lot of help unless they came prepared for a physical fight. “Better put something in that letter to indicate they should come armed, doctor.”

“Hmm… yes, of course. I’ll think of something.”

We went to the kitchen to tell Duncan, Lem, and Percy. I hoped they hadn’t wasted themselves on the doctor’s whiskey.

Chapter Thirty-eight

FORTUNATELY, THE GUYS HAD QUIT AFTER their second drink. I explained about the canceler and my tentative plan. I also explained Terry’s presence since they wondered why the boy wasn’t in bed.

“You think we can make it work?” asked Duncan.

I thought it over. Nothing was certain but… “We have to give it our best shot, Duncan. The alternative is to do nothing and hope the government can get troops here in time to stop them. You know how long that’s likely to take.”

“Yeah.” He turned to study Terry who was quiet. I could tell the kid was pleased to be sitting in with the adults. “Well, boy, you think you can get around to everybody before the day’s out?”

“Oh yes sir, Mr. Hamilton! I can run real fast. I promise I can git to all of ‘em in ‘bout an hour, hour and a half at th’ most.”

“Okay, but keep your eyes open and don’t let them bas— um, them people down at Semptor see you.”

He nodded. “I know how to hide from ‘em, sir. Only time I ever got stopped was th’ time Mr. Bedlow seen me when I was doin’ a errand for Mrs. Johnson an’ he thought I was stealin’.” He grinned. “The doc got ‘im to let me go. Don’t worry, I can dodge ‘em.”

“What about the guards in the community?” I asked. “Which way do you think they’ll go? After all, Slim and Talbert are the only ones who’ve seen what Henderson and his bunch are.”

The doctor looked thoughtful. “That’s a good point, Tennessee, and the ones at the guardhouse could cause problems, especially since your people will be coming in through the entrance. Perhaps someone needs to go and speak with them.”

Duncan said, “I’ll bet Henderson has notified them to not allow anyone in or out. I know those guys but they’re not likely to believe anything I have to say because they know I had a beef with Bedlow. They’ll just think I’m making it all up.”

“They won’t be able to keep my people out,” I said. “They’ll roll right over them, but I’d like to keep this thing quiet as long possible.” I stood. “I guess I’ll have to go up there and convince them.”

“Wait, Tennessee,” said the doctor as he got up. “Let’s take my car. They know me and may believe what I tell them.”

“Hey,” said Percy, “I got an idea.”

I eyed him. “What do you have in mind?”

“You gotta take a little side trip and I’ll go with you.”

Side trip? Then I thought about it and took a guess at what he had in mind. “Bedlow?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Show ‘em that piece of shi—” he shot a look at Terry —“uh, show ‘em that. It oughta be convincing.”

“Yes, that’ll probably work, as long as Henderson hasn’t sent any of his people to pick up the body. We still need the doctor, though.”

The guards at the entry would recognize his car. They’d pull him over but it would get us close enough to deal with them.

“Won’t hurt to check,” said Duncan starting to get up. “Come on, we’ll give it a whirl. Lem, stay here with Terry, and keep an eye on the monitor. We’ll make it as fast as we can.”

The doctor drove. He had a nice car. It was a roomy BMW sedan, not flight capable but one of the new ground-only models put out a couple of years before the Event. I rode up front with him. We went past the house first, looking for vehicles parked out front or in the driveway. There weren’t any so we turned and went back. The doctor parked out on the street.

As Duncan, Percy, and I got out, I said, “Stay in the car, Doctor. If you see anybody coming, leave. We’ll be okay.” I pulled the mini .45 from a pocket. “I don’t know how good a shot you are, but—” I handed the gun to him —“use it if you have to.”

He stared at the gun but he nodded.

We didn’t have any trouble. Apparently, Henderson hadn’t bothered to check on Bedlow, or if he had, he simply left him there. I mused that the Binqua seemed to have very different thought processes from humans. On the other hand, maybe they simply weren’t as smart as the doctor thought they were.

It was a good thing Percy was with us. Binqua turned out to be damned heavy and it took the three of us to get Bedlow’s body out of the house. The alien was medium sized but he had to weigh three hundred pounds. I got one leg and Duncan the other but it was Percy, a big, strong guy, who grabbed hold of the upper part of the body and did most of the work of lugging the dead alien out to the car.

I checked the powder room and Harlow was sitting there looking terrified until he saw us. Probably thought Bedlow had come back to life. We took him with us though Duncan and Percy complained about how he smelled and sat as far from him as they could. If we all lived through this, the doctor was going to have to fumigate his car. We put what was left of Bedlow in the trunk. He fit nicely.

When in a car, one doesn’t get lost in Blue Heaven so it didn’t take long to reach the guardhouse. A guard stood in the middle of the street waving a flashlight to pull us over. The other guard stood on the side watching. I recognized them. They were the big goons who’d been there both times I’d come to Blue Heaven before.

The one in the street came around to the driver’s side of the car and leaned down. “Hey, Doc. Where you goin’ this time of mornin’? Who you got in there with you?” He leaned down a little further to look in but I was already getting out and so was Duncan. I pointed my .357 at the guard over on the side, and Duncan had the .45 on the one looking in the window.

The guy’s eyes widened and he made a motion toward his gun but Duncan shook his head.

“No, Earl,” he said. “Keep your hands where we can see them. We’re not trying to start a shooting match here. The doc’s got something he needs to tell you. We just want you to listen, and there’s something you need to see.”

I motioned with my gun for the other guard to come over. He stepped off the walk with his hands raised.

“Hey, I know you!” he said squinting as he came closer. “You’re the courier that came through here a couple months back.”

From inside the car, Harlow hollered, “He ain’t no damn courier, Jim! That there’s Tennessee Murray, th’ tracker!”

Jim said sounding startled, “Abe? What you doing in there?”

“Gitting away from a zombie alien, that’s what!” said the idiot.

Earl, looking confused, said, “Duncan, what th’ hell’s goin’ on here? Whadda you doin’? Mr. Henderson got us on th’ walkie-talkie a little bit ago an’ said to be on th’ look out for that girl what stole all that money from th’ drug store. Said she got away from Abe. We tried to call Mr. Bedlow but he never answered.”

I’d wondered what Henderson might’ve said to them. Now I knew.

“He was lying, Earl,” said Duncan. “She never stole anything. She was kidnapped.”

“What? Who’d do somethin’ like—”

“We don’t have a lot of time, guys,” I said. “Doctor, start talking. Earl, you and Jim come around to the trunk. What the doctor says will make sense once you see what’s there.”

The doctor popped the trunk and got out. He began to talk and, for a change, made it quick. Once they saw Bedlow, after the shock wore off, they were incensed and ready to go down to Semptor and tear off some heads. I explained we had a better plan and that there were some people on the way to help.

“Let them in. They are friends of mine and one is the sister of the kidnapped young woman. Tell them how to get to the doctor’s house. Better yet, come with them if you want to help.”

“You damn straight we wanna help!” said Earl, his eyes angry. “My brother and his wife and kids lived over in the Cherry neighborhood and when we went to check on ‘em…” he trailed off.

Jim said, “We all lost somebody that day, Tennessee. Family, friends – only a fool wouldn’t want to get rid of them alien fuckers.”

“Everybody will want to get in on it,” said Earl. “The only thing is, how we gonna let ‘em know? Semptor’s got all th’ phones bugged. I’d call out some of th’ other guards but we can’t use th’ walkie-talkies without them listening.”

I nodded. “We’ve got it covered.” I explained about Terry.

We left them there and went back to the doctor’s house. I put Harlow in the basement with Talbert and Slim, who obviously had been drinking ever since we left them there. Slim was nodding off in one of the lounge chairs and Talbert was sitting at the bar leaning over and working on getting even drunker.

Harlow was docile as I removed his handcuffs. He was eying the bar and licking his lips. I took a look at his arm. The small bullet lodged under the skin had caused some bruising and swelling but it appeared all right otherwise. It probably wasn’t even hurting him much and it looked a lot better than his foot had a few years back. He’d need to get the bullet removed but the authorities would get that done once they picked him up. Again, I had no sympathy for him. He was lucky I hadn’t broken his damned jaw again. He immediately joined Talbert at the bar where I’m sure he looked forward to getting stinking drunk.

Talbert didn’t notice his stained and reeking pants. No doubt, they’d all be pissy by the time I got back to them.

I went back up. The doctor left for the lab to prepare his letter and make copies. Terry went with him. I eased onto a stool at the counter. One would think I’d be nearing exhaustion by then considering I’d only gotten about an hour’s sleep in the last twenty-four, and had been subjected to quite a bit of physical – and mental – stress. In spite of it all, I was not. I actually felt downright hyper. I knew it was adrenaline. I would likely pay for it later but that was later.

Duncan, Percy, Lem, and I didn’t do much talking while we waited on the doctor and Terry to come back. I don’t know about them but I was lost in my own thoughts; in my remembrances of horror and loss, things I’d pushed deep inside because there had been nothing I could do about it and hiding it away was a method of coping, of not going completely insane. Still, no matter how hard I’d tried, the memories were a constant subliminal hurt, and like a rising tide, they were now pouring back into my open consciousness. But, I was not as helpless as I was seven and a half years ago, and now I had a target.

I heard the lab phone ring and in a few minutes, the doctor sent Terry to tell me that Simon called and said they would be arriving between eight and eight-thirty. He didn’t say why the delay but I wasn’t worried. It would take a while for them to get everything together.

Terry set out as soon as the sun was up – after the doctor made him eat another sandwich first. We left the guys in the livingroom with Duncan watching the monitor, while the doctor and I went up to check on Morgan. She was still asleep.

“She’s going to have an awful headache and an upset stomach when she awakens,” said the doctor with concern. “I’d better prepare something for that.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. I’d been surprised he would know what to do about the ecstasy, after all, the man was a physicist, not a physician. But why would something have to be prepared for a headache?

“Won’t aspirin do?”

He saw the way I was looking at him and smiled. “I admit to having had a number of interests when I was younger, Tennessee. I was pre-med before I changed to physics, and I kept up with certain aspects of medicine – out of curiosity, you see. So, while aspirin will work for her headache, she is also going to be quite nauseous. Aspirin might exacerbate that so she will need something different. Don’t worry. She’ll be fine.”

I decided to take his word for it. The man was obviously a genius.

We went back downstairs, getting there in time to see the arrival of Madison along with everyone I’d sent to help her plus some. With all those folk out there, I knew Henderson was bound to know something was going on.

Lowell and Simon had managed to round up many more people than I thought they could on such short notice, but then they’d always been resourceful, and here they were. There were at least a hundred people with them, and not only that, people from the neighborhood were walking in, ones Terry had already gotten to and notified. I don’t know what the doctor put in the letter but every one of them was carrying some type of weapon.

I stepped out on the stoop with the doctor. By then it was ten after eight and the morning was cold in spite of the sun shining behind the ever-present haze hanging over Blue Heaven.

Madison hopped down from her big black SUV along with Buster and her other guards. She was dressed all in black leather – a stylish jacket full of zippers and studs, designer pants, and high-heeled boots. A black shoulder purse and a black leather tam under which she’d stuffed her hair completed her outfit. She wore no make-up and her face looked drawn, but she looked good.

Lowell and Simon emerged from Simon’s rusty pick-up truck. I smiled. Cue was with them. They were carrying assault rifles and bags that no doubt held their ammunition. Simon was wearing the sword he said he’d picked up in Japan years ago. That was Simon, always prepared for anything. They came up the walkway together. Along with a sawed-off shotgun, I noticed Cue was holding a machete. He grinned when he saw me eyeing the wicked looking weapon.

“My favorite mojo, Tenn,” he said holding it up.

I chuckled. Whatever worked.

“Well, we’re here, son,” said Simon. “What’s the plan?”

I introduced them to the doctor, and gave them a quick run-down while the doctor went to speak to the crowd.

“I have something that will take out the laser they have, and the shield. I believe it will also negate the thing that holds the anomaly open, something the doctor calls a wedge. It’s on the company grounds and I have to get within five feet of it. I’m going to need help making my way there. What I need you to do, Simon, is to give everyone the basics. These folk you see walking in, well, they don’t know about the aliens so they’re going to have to be convinced. There’s a body in the trunk of the doctor’s car. Give them a glimpse of that. That ought to get them going. Once they’re over their shock, get them organized into groups.”

He nodded. “Will do.” He turned and gazed out over the still assembling crowd. He smiled. “Piece of cake, son. And, the doctor’s trunk isn’t the only thing holding one of those bastards. Got three in the back of my pick-up. I thought somebody else might need convincing so I came prepared.” He grinned. “Grenades are too hard to come by, so I also got some Molotov cocktails on the back of the truck. That’s what took so long for us to get here, had to get those going.”

“Uh, will those do much good? The buildings are bound to have sprinklers.”

“Sure they will, son. Even with sprinklers, the cocktails still make a lot of smoke, and if nothing else, the sprinklers will put a kink in things. Don’t you worry, they’ll work just fine.”

I nodded. If he said it would work, I’d take his word for it. He’d been in a hell of a lot more fights than me.

Terry came trotting down the sidewalk. The kid looked tired but triumphant.

“I got to every house, Mr. Murray!” He looked around, and nodded. “Some of ‘em done already got here.”

“Yes, they have. You did a good job, Terry,” I said. “Now get inside and tell one of the guys to get you something to eat and drink. Then you need to rest, son.”

“Yes, sir.” He slipped between Madison and Simon and went inside.

I explained who he was and what he’d done. Simon shot a look toward the door.

“Brave kid. He deserves a reward,” he said.

I agreed but rewards were going to have to wait.

The doctor came back up and I explained that Simon was going to get everyone organized. He nodded and we went inside with Madison. Lowell and Buster followed us in.

“Where is she?” asked Madison her eyes worried.

“Follow me, Ms. Effingham,” said the doctor. “I’ll show you where you can leave your coat and I’ll take you to her. She’ll be waking up soon and I’ve prepared something for the headache and nausea she’s going to have. It’ll make her sleepy, but I promise you, she’s going to be all right.”

Madison shot me a raised eyebrow as they went up the stairs and I gave her a reassuring smile.

In a few minutes, the doctor came back down without her.

“She was waking up and in a lot of pain so I gave her the medicine. Her sister insisted on staying with her for now.”

I nodded. I understood. Morgan was the only family she had left. She was going to make damned sure she was okay above all else.

Lem, Duncan, and Percy emerged from the livingroom and after brief introductions, they went outside after I explained that Simon was organizing everyone into groups.

I was loading my weapons and checking to make sure everything was in place when the doctor said, quietly, “Tennessee, you realize that this could fail.”

I paused, studying him. “I know, Doctor, but we have to try.”

He looked at me keenly. “What I mean is, you are depending too much on a device at which we’re only guessing the true function.”

I stared at him, my mind blank because I’d thought we had learned the true function.

Chapter Thirty-nine

I PULLED OUT THE CANCELER AND HELD IT UP.

“According to the instructions, this will not only take down the shield and lasers, but we found the third switch which must shut down the wedge. How can it not be for that – those Binqua guards died trying to take it from me! Are you telling me it won’t work for any of that?”

Dr. Bennet shook his head. “That’s not what I’m saying, Tennessee. In fact, I do think it will negate the shield and the lasers. Nevertheless, I don’t know what the middle switch controls. Those instructions weren’t clear. It did have the term “anomaly” in it but the rest didn’t translate into English. It’s speculation to think it’s there to shut it down.”

He shrugged. “They know it will disable their defense and offense, so that could be the reason they were trying to get it back. Besides, I’ve been thinking about it and concluded that they don’t need to be able to shut down the wedge from this end. That would strand them here. They are intelligent beings even if they think differently, so I can only consider that they know this.”

Those were good reasons but I wondered why the instructions would even mention the anomaly if the canceler didn’t have anything to do with shutting it down. Still, it was a disturbing thought. Everyone was assembled and depending on me to find a way to destroy the thing once we got there. What if I pointed the apparatus at the machine and nothing happened? More Binqua would show up and I was certain they would be better fighters. That would be bad. My hope was that the doctor was overthinking the whole thing.

“We have to go anyway, Doctor. We don’t have a choice or time to wait around. Simon’s out there right now filling everyone in and getting them organized.”

Dr. Bennett clapped me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t get upset, son. I have something that could work if the canceler doesn’t. Come with me.” He started down the hall.

Lowell and Buster looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I shrugged and turned to follow him. “Stay here, I’ll be back,” I said.

Buster said, “I’m going with you. I wanna see this thing,” and he tagged along as I trotted after the fast moving man.

We went through the bedroom and into the lab where the doctor stood in front of a wall cabinet next to the big surveillance monitor. He pulled open the doors and withdrew something that resembled a tuning fork.

“Is that it?”

Buster and I shot looks at each other. It looked… homemade.

“Yes. I cooked it up a while back when I was playing around with an idea I thought might help solve the problem of our diminishing electrical power.” He snorted. “Well, that was before I learned about the Binqua and why we were getting power outages so naturally it didn’t work.” He gave a rueful smile. “Subsequently – and accidentally, I might add – I found it can make electronics and electrical devices go haywire. For that reason, I call it a scrambler. It works, or at least it does on computers and other devices – as long as you’re within two feet and its pointed directly at the switch or the wiring of whatever it is you’re trying to scramble. Now, I never saw whether the wedge mechanism had something as simple as a switch, in fact, it probably doesn’t. But it looked similar to the machine in Henderson’s office from which I saw him remove a panel.”

He shrugged. “I can’t tell you how he removed it but it’s likely that all their devices have such service panels, so I believe if you can get close enough to it and can get that panel off, you should be able to stop it with this.” He handed me the scrambler. “Press it there” – he pointed to a makeshift button in the handle – “and that will turn it on.”

I stared at the thing skeptically. Apparently, it was homemade. “So, if the canceler doesn’t work, all I have to do is shove this inside the machine and it’ll be disrupted.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose and studied me for a moment before saying, “It should, Tenn, but as I said, it has only come into contact with items I have in the lab – and a lamp. There hasn’t been any way to test it on anything more complex, something made by them.”

Swell. That was a lot of “ifs” and a big “maybe”.  If I could find a panel on the wedge to remove, if I could figure how to get it off, if the canceler operated as I thought, and if not, then maybe the scrambler would do the trick. Nevertheless, it was all we had and so I was going to have to go with it.

I stuck the canceler in one jacket pocket and the scrambler in another. We went through the bedroom and back into the livingroom. Lowell was watching for us to come back down the hall and Simon was just coming in the front door. I was sure the people out there understood the simple plan. Which was, when broken down to its basics: beat-the-shit-out-of-the-Binqua-and-get-Tennessee-to-the-wedge-alive.

“Are we ready to go?” asked Lowell.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go get it done, then, boy!” said Simon, his eyes glinting with anticipation.

They picked up the bags of ammo and weapons they’d left in the entry.

Terry had fallen asleep on the couch. I didn’t try to wake him. The poor guy was exhausted after being up practically all night and then running all over the neighborhood. I looked at his sleeping face. He was younger but I thought of my cousin Will.

I glanced at the surveillance monitor. It captured the crowd milling around in the street, and spilling onto the lawns of the doctors’ neighbors. Terry had done a good job of notifying everyone, and the throng stretched up the street and out of range of the camera. With the people from the neighborhood, there were probably two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty.

Most were standing quietly in the morning chill, waiting; a few kept glancing toward the house and the front camera. They were waiting for me. All were good people, even the guards – now ex-guards – who had been unknowingly working for the bastards who were trying to make our world into one on which we couldn’t live.

They were a rag-tag bunch but they were what we had and they were ready to make a stand for our world. We were outnumbered but it was going to have to be enough. They were all armed. Some had axes or large knives along with their guns or rifles. As with the folk who’d come with Simon and Lowell, some from the neighborhood were women, and a number of them had quivers of arrows and carried bows. Whatever worked.

Duncan was handing out Molotov cocktails. He wasn’t giving them to everyone so I surmised he knew who would be able to handle them since he knew the folk in the neighborhood. Simon had also given some to a number of the people who’d come into Blue Heaven with them.

I turned as I heard footsteps on the stairs. Madison was coming down.

“How’s Morgan?” I asked as she came into the living room.

She blew out a breath. “She’s okay for now.” She turned to the doctor. “Thank you, Dr. Bennett. Whatever you gave her seems to be working. She’s fallen asleep.” She turned back to me. “Are we ready to go now?”

Startled, I stared at her. “What do you mean “we”? Stay here with the doctor. It’s going to be dangerous out there.”

She gazed up at me. “Those sons of bitches are the reason I lost my family, why everbody lost somebody, and they tried – no, they did take my sister. You got her back but that doesn’t erase what they did, and there’s the fact that they’re trying to kill the rest of us.” She tilted her head to one side, her blue eyes steely and seeming to hold a challenge. “I can’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t go, or of anything that might stop me from going.”

I caught a soft snort from beside me and shot a quick glance at the doctor. He gave me an innocent look.

Simon nodded and said, “Tenn, everybody’s got a stake in this game. There’s not an able-bodied person on Earth who wouldn’t want to help trash these fuckers if they knew about it and got the chance. You saw the women that came with us and you know they’re capable – hell, I trained most of them myself. I saw this lady fight. She can do it.”

I turned back to Madison. I hadn’t been aware she’d participated in the fight at the hotel. From her stance, she wasn’t going to listen to any arguments I might offer anyway. Simon was right and she was an adult. I hoped she’d make it through. Morgan would be upset if she didn’t. Besides, I rather liked her.

I nodded. “Okay. We’re as ready as we’re going to get. Come on, let’s go.” I pulled my jacket on and headed for the door.

Simon and Lowell went out ahead of me, and Madison grabbed her jacket, slung her designer bag over a shoulder, and followed me out. I raised an eyebrow at the bag but I didn’t say anything. Apparently, she never went anywhere without her purse. Not even to a fight.

Everyone looked up as we exited the door.

“Good luck,” said Dr. Bennett, from the doorway, “and Madison, don’t worry; I’ll take good care of Morgan while you’re gone.” He smiled and closed the door.

“You got the thing the doc gave you?” asked Buster.

I nodded and patted my jacket pocket. “Got it right here.”

“Hey!” came a voice from over on the side. “She’s going with us?”

I looked around and spotted Duncan. He was eyeing Madison’s designer leathers, especially the high-heeled boots and the purse over her shoulder.

“Yes.” I didn’t elaborate.

“Oh, don’t worry about her,” said Buster. He was carrying two rifles, and handed one to Madison. “She knows how to use this and she can handle herself. Besides, these guys are pussies. She could take on a slew of ‘em all by herself.” He smiled. “She’s ferocious.”

Being one of her bodyguards, he would know.

Duncan looked doubtful but he nodded. Nobody had described the fight at the hotel to me, except for the aliens’ blood being a bluish red and smelling funny – something I already knew – but Buster was right. The ones we’d taken on while we were getting Morgan out had fought like frightened rookies. They were terrible at hand-to-hand and unable to heal the many bullet holes we’d inflicted. They crumpled like tissue paper.

Of course, it helped that there’d only been eleven of them because frightened rookies can still kill. Had there been more, some of us, or possibly none of us, would’ve made it out of there. Also, if their strange guns had worked, we would’ve been in a pile on the floor instead of them.

The doctor said it was possible they don’t run into many species that are as aggressive as ours. One would think they’d been on Earth long enough to have figured out that they might need some better, and tougher, fighters but maybe they’d thought they would have us all finished off before it became a problem for them.

A mistake on their part, but apparently, their tactics had always worked before. Maybe they had been at this so long that they got complacent and had long ago gotten out of the habit of bringing real fighters along for their takeovers. On the worlds they acquired before, maybe no one ever caught on until it was too late so they hadn’t gotten much in the way of opposition.

With a little luck, they wouldn’t have enough time to gather more or better fighters. After all, our little uprising had come about fast. I didn’t want to think about what might’ve happened if Henderson had waited for his negotiator to work out a deal with Madison instead of trying to force her hand, which led to his ordering the kidnapping of Morgan. Which led to me showing up.

I held up a hand for attention. “Okay, listen up. Simon told you how this is going to go, so remember which group you’re in. If they have the shield up, I’ll knock it out and I’ll also take out their lasers. Some of you have already seen the wrecked fence so you know we can get through it, just be careful of sharp edges.”

Cue was standing out on the driveway, shotgun in one hand, machete in the other. He was definitely ready to roll. He pulled his knit cap off, and ran a hand over his shiny head before cramming it back on. “Let’s go git them bitches,” he said, his eyes narrow and his face hard. “They done fucked up our world wit’ that goddam Event shit an’ then the muthafuckers add to it by tryin’ ta snatch a li’l girl. They’s wrong as shit. Time fo som’ fuckin’ payback.”

I didn’t try to correct him. As Lem had been, he was half-right. The Binqua didn’t cause the Event but they sure hadn’t given a flying bat turd about us. They never told us it was coming when they could have, and had kept the anomaly jammed open so they could screw up our technology and make a profit off us. Now they wanted to divest us of our world. Like Lem and Cue, many people wouldn’t ever believe they hadn’t actually made the Event happen but as far as I was concerned, that was a minor point.

Simon held his rifle in the air and yelled, “Let’s get it on!” and there was a chorus of “Yeah!” and “Let’s go get them assholes!” It was time.

I nodded. “Okay. Let’s go. Be sharp. Just because we can take out the lasers, it doesn’t mean they can’t hurt us. Remember, they’ve got a number of regular firearms.”

As we started forward and turned down Main Street to head to Semptor Labs, I glanced at Madison’s determined face as she strode along. I almost smiled. She had her rifle slung over one shoulder and her designer purse over the other. She may have looked soft and pampered but the woman had steel in her backbone and on top of everything else they’d done, those nasties hurt her little sister. She was pissed and ready to make them pay.

Everybody was quiet as we got to the mostly demolished front fence. There wasn’t anything to indicate a shield. The doctor said it wouldn’t be visible so there was no way to tell if it was on just by looking. I picked up a rock and tossed it over the fence. It bounced back. Definitely working.

“As soon as you’re in position,” I told the fighters, “Throw a rock to make sure the shield’s down.”

Two groups jogged off to the left, heading for the vehicle entry, which Duncan said would be unlocked, just like the front gate. I was certain the Binqua hadn’t suddenly gained enough smarts to think to lock it, especially since they were depending on their shield. A couple more groups moved down, prepared to go in through the large opening on the left put there by the laser while we were trying to get Morgan out. A third group headed to the right to go through the other ragged section. The rest of the fighters gathered behind me at the melted down main gate.

“Get ready,” I said to the gaggle of people. “Remember your part. Stay low and be careful.” I pulled the canceler out, and praying the thing worked the way the instructions indicated, I pushed switch number three two times. Percy picked up a rock and pitched it over the fence where it landed on the other side without impediment. I was relieved. At least that part worked. Then I pressed switch number two once to take out the lasers. We’d only know that one worked when we didn’t suddenly become crispy chunks.

We moved in.

Chapter Forty

WE GOT THROUGH THE MANGLED FENCE AND took off down the slope for the buildings. As we crossed the treed and grassy span that abutted the lot where the burned and ruined delivery trucks and vans were, nobody was fried.

The fighters carrying Molotov cocktails got all the way down to the lot and were taking cover among the burned out hulks before the Binqua figured out their shield was gone and the lasers didn’t work, and began firing rifles.

Everyone dove for cover. I hit the ground behind a small bush. It wouldn’t afford much protection but it was better than standing in the open. It did offer some concealment, and I had to be alive to get to the building that held the wedge.

Duncan crawled up next to me. He pointed toward the office building where, surprisingly, none of the windows had shattered from the earlier blast, though, a couple appeared to be cracked. I suppose the explosion wasn’t big enough or close enough to do much damage to the building.

“Most of the gunfire’s coming from the second floor, Tenn. I’m going to try taking out a window.”

“Take out one on the bottom, Duncan. Easier to reach those with the cocktails.”

Nobody could likely reach the second floor with a cocktail anyway. It would probably hit the side of the building, which would be a waste, but fires started on the bottom floor would work their way up. The sprinkler system might cut in but as Simon said, the fires would generate a lot of thick smoke.

He was lying on his stomach but he got his rifle high enough to fire and a window shattered.

Lem and Percy were hiding behind a couple of skinny trees, and they rose up and let loose with their rifles. Two more shattered.

Simon, hiding with the people who’d made it to the burned out vehicles, must’ve had the same idea because I heard him shout, “Get the bottom windows!”

Rifle-fire roared and more windows shattered.

Simon hollered, “Toss ‘em!”

I saw a flaming object go flying toward the building. It made it through a window, and the guys lit more bottles and flung them hard. A couple missed after all, smashing against the side of the building, the fire rolling harmlessly down the bricks but most went inside and shattered.

Then, the Binqua realized what was happening and began firing down at the wrecked vans. They were bad shots but I saw two fighters go down. By then, three men, one of them Lowell, arms laden with the cocktails, had gotten to the building and were kicking the door in. They flattened themselves against the building and started lighting and throwing the bottles inside.

Molotov cocktails were flying in like flaming birds. I don’t believe the Binqua realized what was happening at first but soon, smoke and flames were working their way up and smoke began issuing from the upstairs windows. Either the building didn’t have a sprinkler system or it wasn’t working.

In a few minutes, a bunch of Binqua exited the side door and started for cover in the nearby trees. Bullets hit a number but the ability to heal wounds kept some of them going. Our people were going to have to hit them a lot, preferably in vital areas – wherever those might be – to stop them.

Then, the Binqua came boiling from the living quarters at the far end, firing as they came.

By then, the fighters sent to go in through the vehicle entry had made it and they advanced and began firing back. A barrage of gunfire from the Binqua that came out the side door got my attention. They were firing at the fighters coming through the broken fence several yards to my right and down through the trees. I rolled over from my precarious and inadequate cover, scrambled to my feet, and keeping as low as I could, I made a dash for the parking lot and ran toward the other side of the building.

Duncan took off with me. Others followed us and we laid down fire as we ran. I didn’t have a rifle but I was firing with both my handguns. A line of Binqua ran to block our progress and two of the fighters with me fell. I fired until I ran out of bullets. I didn’t have time to reload but by then we’d reached the aliens. We crashed into them kicking and slashing. I saw somebody with a baseball bat whaling on one and a couple of them went down with arrows protruding from some part of their anatomy. The ladies with the bows had gotten them. Seemed they didn’t heal well with those sticking in them.

A Binqua threw something at me. I dropped down to avoid the object and he crashed into me and tried to pin me to the pavement. I fought to get from beneath him and felt my jacket rip but I got my arm free and slashed up with my knife, the blade cutting across his face. He shrieked and reared up and I slashed again. His shriek became a gurgle as he scrabbled at his throat and fell backward. I rolled away.

I was coming to my feet and saw the attached building had erupted into flames. I didn’t know if a Molotov cocktail got it or if it had caught from the main building but I was puzzled that it seemed to be on its way to burning completely – until I saw its outer surfacing was vinyl siding rather than the brick or cement material of the other buildings.

The fire was going to prevent me from entering. That could be good, maybe the fire would destroy the wedge but I didn’t have time to wonder about it because the Binqua were hell bent on taking us down. They seemed to have run out of bullets and had what appeared to be some kind of club and were using it to bludgeon. As had the one who’d tried to pin me, they were also throwing objects, a kind of disk. I couldn’t tell what they were but they appeared to have a cutting edge. They managed to bring a number of fighters down with them until our people got better at dodging.

A few Binqua appeared to be trying to take fighters down by crashing into them with their bodies. This worked somewhat because even the slim ones were heavier than humans. A couple more ran into to me but I managed to get one with my knife, slicing into his belly, and the other one met my boot. It didn’t kill him but he fell and I got him with the knife, too. They were heavy but their skin was thin. It was easy to slice them open and, even if you hit nothing vital, too many cuts or holes and they couldn’t do the fast healing anymore and they died. Everyone else had found that out, too, and were putting as many holes in them as they could. Someone with a sledgehammer was smashing one to mush.

In the meanwhile, most of the small building had burned; the roof was gone and only one wall was still standing. I was about forty feet away but the machines I glimpsed inside seemed unaffected. They gleamed brightly as though polished by the fire. I recognized the egg-shaped form of one from the image I’d seen in the files. It was the wedge, and like the others, it sat there in seemingly pristine condition. I guessed they were made of sterner materials than the building. Whatever their composition, they didn’t burn.

That was disappointing but I’d known this wasn’t going to be easy.

I began to work my way towards the building. Through the melee, I saw Simon and Lowell fighting back-to-back. Something whizzed through the air striking Lowell and he fell. My heart caught but there was no time to get to him. Simon went into a killing frenzy, screaming and slashing with his sword. I caught a commotion out the corner of my eye and saw Madison. Nearly surrounded by Binqua, she was kicking and turning, seeming to almost dance. I was nearing what was left of the building and I needed to take the wedge device out, so I said a silent prayer for her and fought my way through.

I stumbled over the doorsill and up to the machine. I was pulling out the canceler when something collided with me from the side knocking me down. The canceler flew across the blackened cement floor. I rolled and my knife met the chest of the Binqua who’d bowled me over and was trying to bash my head against the floor. His breath rasped in his throat as he groped at me. I pushed him off me, got to my knees and stabbed again, burying my knife in his throat and he sprawled over backward, drowning in his stinking, bluish-red blood. I pulled the knife out and scrambled towards the canceler in time to see a tall, dark haired Binqua in a black suit reach down and pick it up.

I rose to my feet. There was an opening through which wisps of smoke were still issuing, and I could see a set of concrete stairs leading to the main building. Apparently, wherever in there he’d come from hadn’t burned much because he didn’t look singed.

I had a feeling I was looking at Julius Henderson. It was evident from the avid grin stretching his lips that he was pleased to get the canceler. He exclaimed something in his language, which of course was lost on me.

I took a step towards him and he pointed a .45 at me.

He glared at me with cold, black eyes. “Stop there, Tennessee Murray.” He gave a smile that looked more like a grimace. Or, perhaps it was. “Yes, I know who you are. Tedun – Martin Bedlow to you – made a copy of your driver’s license and I have since discovered your history. You think you will stop us but you won’t.”

I looked at him and the rage I’d kept down surged and I burned with fury.

“You could’ve warned us,” I said softly.

He gave a surprisingly cheerful laugh. “Oh, so you’ve made that discovery. No doubt, you’ve spoken with Dr. Bennett. He is quite a clever man and a little while ago, I uncovered the fact that my files were compromised. He would be the one to have made that accomplishment. That, however, will make no difference. And why would we have warned you of the anomaly? You are nothing to us. We have been quite successful at turning a profit here, and once Luminary Pah saw that, with a few adjustments, this world would be good for the spawning of his kind, we contracted to take it. We will have it the same as we’ve had all others we wanted and the Luminary will reward us well for our efforts.” He raised the gun and smiled. “Goodbye, Mr. Murray.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

With no time to aim, I threw the knife I still held. It hit him in the right shoulder and he giggled/screeched and the bullet from the gun went wild. He dropped the gun and it skittered toward the burned out front of the building but he held on to the canceler. I jumped and flew into him, slamming him into the side of one of the machines. He shoved me back but I grabbed his arm and took him with me. I was off balance and we crashed to the floor. I twisted to keep him from landing on me and he screeched again as the knife in his shoulder went in deeper. I jumped on his back and he thrashed around and managed to throw me off and flip over but I piled right back on him. We grappled and rolled toward the front and he clubbed me upside the head with the canceler. I barely felt it.

I smashed into his face with an elbow and grabbed for the device. He kept his grip on it and snarled at me then raised a hand and deliberately brought the canceler down hard on the cement floor. It smashed into pieces.

He bared his teeth in a ferocious grin. “Now you cannot use it and soon the **** will come.” He gave that sickening cheerful laugh again. “Then you will be gone and this world will belong to the Binqua.”

Whatever was coming didn’t translate into English but I imagined he’d already sent for more fighters, probably better ones.

Furious, I slugged him and his head slammed against the floor. I tried to pull my knife from his shoulder and slit his throat but somewhere in the scuffle, it had driven so far into him that I couldn’t get a grip on it. I glimpsed something lying outside of what used to be the door. Whoever had the sledgehammer had dropped it. I scrambled to it and turned back in time to see Henderson trying to get the gun near his left hand. In the fight, I hadn’t noticed it. I leaped and brought the sledgehammer down on his hand and he screamed. He looked up at me, his eyes knowing he was about to die as I raised the sledgehammer and unleashed seven and a half years of rage down on his head. It split open like a rotten, overripe melon.

Breathing hard, I looked at the pieces of the canceler. No way would it work. I reached for the pocket that held Dr. Bennett’s scrambler. It was gone. I remembered my jacket ripping while fighting with a Binqua in the lot. It must’ve fallen out then. I staggered out to search for it, but finding it was impossible in the lot littered with bodies and debris. I stumbled back into the burned out shell of a building and stared at the wedge sitting there calmly. Both devices that could’ve taken it out were gone. The Binqua still had access to our world. Everything had been for nothing.

Bitterness rose in my chest and anguish ripped through me. I screamed. My mind exploded, fueling the insane rage I’d kept in check since the day of the Event and I swung at the wedge with the sledgehammer.

Images sprang bright and real into my mind, engulfing me with pain, and I swung.

Zoni, her eyes staring into eternity, our children never to be conceived, and I swung.

My mother in unmoving pieces on the kitchen floor never to touch me again, and I swung.

My father swarming with flies on the hot deck, his smile forever stilled, and I swung.

Will, about to go off to college, his young life extinguished, and I swung.

My sister whom I never got to see again, and I swung.

Dave, staring into nothing, his body in pieces falling onto the lobby floor, and I swung.

The friendly clerk at the Quick Mart, the people in the parking lot of my building. Five billion human beings dead in an instant.

I swung.

And I screamed and I swung.

I don’t know how long I pounded with that sledgehammer but slowly, I became aware of a bright shaft of light hitting me, breaking through the agony of the images enveloping my mind and filling my soul with crackling fury, grief, and madness, and I paused.

I looked down. The wedge was a crumpled pile of twisted metal. I looked up.

The sky was clearing.

Chapter Forty-one

I WATCHED THE GRAY INTERFACE FADE OUT AND disappear from over Blue Heaven and my overwhelming rage began to dissipate. I looked around, confused.

Our remaining forces out in the parking lot and doing mop-up on the Binqua were cheering. A large man wearing the torn, gore splashed, dirty uniform of his former employers ran up and grabbed me in an embrace. It was Earl.

His broad face wreathed in a wide grin, he slapped me on the back and shouted, “You did it, man! You got th’ sonofabitch!” He whirled away and caught up a woman who was clutching a bow and grinning at him, hugging her tightly, and they both joined in the cheering with the others. Cue pulled that big machete of his from the back of a dead alien, raised it in the air and gave a big whoop. He grinned widely, and gave me a thumb’s up.

It finally penetrated my dazed mind that, somehow, I had managed to destroy the wedge. And its destruction on this end meant the rebound had taken out the other end destroying the base of the being we’d seen in the video. It wasn’t nearly enough, but it was something, and it meant the path to our world was gone.

I dropped the sledgehammer. It landed with a crashing thud in the ruins of the machine. Funny how such a low-tech tool had brought down such an ultra-high tech instrument. I hadn’t been able to deploy either of the more sophisticated methods, and I guess I’ll never know if either would’ve worked but in the end, fueled by rage and armed with a sledgehammer I had gotten the job done.

I looked out across the parking lot. Simon was leaning over Lowell, helping him to his feet. A rush of thankfulness hit me that my two friends had survived. When I saw Lowell fall, I thought he was gone. I’d lost sight of Madison as I made my final push to get to the wedge. I looked for her and she was carefully picking her way over bodies, heading in my direction. I sagged with relief and lowered myself down to the seared and blackened floor. I leaned tiredly against the one, still standing, crumbling wall.

I stared up at the Carolina blue sky. It was the first time in seven and a half years the neighborhood had seen anything overhead except a gray haze. The sun cast brilliant beams that played among the wreckage like schoolkids let out for recess.

The last time I shed tears was the day I stood at the backyard graves of Zoni and my parents. I hadn’t been able to cry since. Now, as I looked up at the clear January sky, tears ran down my cheeks leaving a warm trail on my cooling face.

“Tennessee? Are you all right?”

I lowered my gaze to see Madison stepping over the doorless sill and into the burned out building. She still looked good. The last time I’d spotted her she was spinning around like a whirling dervish and demolishing a line of Binqua who probably thought they had an easy mark in her. Their mistake. Those high-heeled boots of hers were lethal weapons. Somehow, she’d managed to get through the fight with only a few spatters and smudges here and there. She maneuvered her way through the rubble and strewn machine parts, and with a concerned expression, she squatted down and took one of my hands in hers. She had lost her hat somewhere and her hair stirred in the chill breeze.

I nodded. I took a gulping breath, raised my eyes back up and pointed to the sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

She laid down her gun and settled beside me, putting her arm around my shoulders and pulling me to her chest. She looked up at the sky and smiled.

We both ignored the gruesome remains of Henderson lying several feet away.

“Yes, it is. Now it looks like the sky in the rest of the world.” She turned to me and pulling a handkerchief from the purse she’d managed to hang on to through everything, she began to gently wipe my wet face.

Epilogue

ONE OF THE COPS WHO’D FOUGHT WITH US contacted the uptown police department who sent over medics and ambulances to attend to and transport the wounded, and the unfortunate ones who didn’t make it through the fight. They sent patrol cars to pick up Harlow, Talbert, and Slim – who’d gotten as pissy drunk as I’d thought they would – and arrested them for participating in Morgan’s kidnapping.

As it turned out, the majority of the guards were legit, including the one I’d head-butted. Henderson had fed him the same bullshit lie he’d given Earl and Jim about Morgan being a thief, and he was horrified to learn the truth. Slim and Talbert, determined not to go down alone, told the cops about other humans involved, who were non-guards. Law enforcement apprehended all but two, who had skipped. I, along with Duncan, Lem, and Percy who also survived the fight and eagerly joined me in the search, eventually tracked them down. But, that was later. And is another story.

Oh, and the few Binqua who managed not to get killed, were rounded up by our fighters and hauled away, first by the local police, then by the government. I don’t know what they did with them. Quite a number of people want to see them hang but I doubt if that’ll ever happen. My guess is they’ll be thoroughly interrogated, then they’ll spend the rest of their lives, however long that may be, being poked and prodded in a lab somewhere. I admit I don’t care.

Madison agreed with Dr. Bennett that to ensure she wouldn’t suffer any permanent damage from having ingested the ecstasy, a doctor should check Morgan, so she stayed overnight at the hospital where she was determined to be in satisfactory condition. The staff physician told her not to travel for a few days so Madison brought her back to Dr. Bennett’s house.

They remained there for a week before Madison decided Morgan was recuperated enough to go home to Wilmington. I stayed with them. Dr. Bennett insisted on cooking for us and he turned out to be quite good at it. We all ate well during our stay.

Madison – who was now my ex-client so I wasn’t breaking my rule – stayed in my room and we became better acquainted while we were there. As were several women in the past, she was surprised – and pleased – to learn I wasn’t as old as I looked. The first morning we went down together for breakfast, Morgan, already at the table, complained to Madison that she was noisy, but her eyes were dancing as she said it. Madison laughed and told her she was just jealous. Morgan giggled.

I smiled. Madison was noisy, but it was a good noise.

She invited me to go with them when they left. She understood when I declined to leave Charlotte, just as I understood that she had to get back to her city and her business. She smiled and said she would be making a return visit soon.

I kind of liked the thought of that, and Wilmington wasn’t so far away I couldn’t go for the occasional visit myself.

Our elimination of the Binqua wedge isn’t going to change the shit of the last seven and a half years. It won’t bring back Zoni or my family, it won’t bring back the five billion peoples of Earth who died that day or the ones who perished in one way or another since, but at least now, we have a shot at rebuilding.

Our country, while not in blue-chip condition is in better shape than are many others, because say what you will about it, our government with all its warts and barnacles, through all the craziness of the years after the Event, never went totally under. It hung in there in spite of it all, and is doing its damnedest to recover. There are, as you might expect due to the hell everyone endured, many social issues with which to contend. Some folk are not that cooperative though generally, most are pitching in. There is also the criminal element that persists wherever you find humans.

It helps that cellphones, television, airplanes – all the things that went out of commission because of the Binqua, will work again once we can get everything back up and running. I’m going to kind of miss phone booths when they go. I’ve gotten used to them.

The… things… that inhabited the patches of what we called blight, began to die off because once I destroyed the wedge, all the emissions keeping them alive stopped. The worst stretch, of course, was the one encircling Blue Heaven, and it’s now a blackened ring around the neighborhood and the city has sent workers to clear out the strip. They plan to put in new trees, shrubbery, and flowers. The neighborhood, by the way, is back to normal – or as normal as anywhere else now. No one gets lost there anymore. I go there from time to time to visit with the doctor and when I do, I usually drop by The Hole in the Wall to see Joe. Sometimes Frank is there and he always offers to buy me a drink.

Dr. Bennett took a look at the metal that composed the wedge and the other machines and says he has no idea what the material is. He thinks it’s some kind of alloy but exactly what kind is a mystery. The government hauled the scraps of the wedge and the other machines away. I guess they’ll figure it out. I’m just thankful that whatever the material, it went down under the forged steel of the sledgehammer. I supposed we agonized for nothing over how to get rid of it, but who knew the thing could be destroyed that way? The doctor says that sometimes it’s the simplest things that work best.

Still, even though I never got the chance to deploy the canceler or the jammer, I have to give them credit for getting us going. Without them, I don’t know if we would have been as quick at going after the Binqua.

Dr. Bennett has shared all the files he pulled from Henderson’s computer, with other scientists and they are having a field day with it. I’m sure some new technologies will be forthcoming. My wish is that they could all be benign, but now that we know for sure we aren’t the only occupants of this universe, it makes sense to prepare for visitors who could perhaps reach us via spaceships or some other method. They may not come in peace.

The rest of the world learned what caused the Event and how our small, cobbled-together army destroyed the aliens and their machines that kept our world from recovering from its effects, and countries from all over wanted to pin medals on Dr. Bennett and me, and the folk who helped stop the Binqua mission.

I didn’t want a medal but Dr. Bennett said that had it not been for me, even though he did the math and learned the cause, and found out about the aliens and their agenda, we’d still be on our way to perdition because he’d had no idea on how to begin the task of getting rid of the Binqua. I reminded him that I was simply working a tracking case, and if the aliens hadn’t kidnapped my client’s sister, none of it would ever have happened. It had been pure chance. He said it was fortunate, then, that I took the chance when it came along, and he insisted I go to the ceremony, so I went with everyone, and smiled and nodded when appropriate. I was pleasantly surprised to learn there was a monetary award, but I was glad when it was over.

Terry also received an award and since he was underage and had no living relatives, the accompanying money went into a trust for him with a lawyer appointed to determine an executor. Terry asked Dr. Bennett if he could live with him and the doctor was willing but the family with whom he lived tried to keep him – and his money – from leaving. The lawyer along with the newly recreated Child Protection Agency, questioned the boy, the neighbors of the family, and the doctor, and in the end, chose the doctor as executor and an ecstatic Terry went to live with him.

The arrangement has worked out nicely. The doctor likes having him around and Terry certainly likes being with the doctor. He brings the boy to the makeshift school the city finally set up in the uptown library. I gave him a copy of my book and told him to let me know what he thought when he was able to read it. The kid is smart so getting his reading up to speed didn’t take long. He liked the book and wants to read the sequel.

Who knows, once things get a little further along and the publishing and printing companies make a comeback, maybe the book will gain a good following and another company will take it up and do a reprint, and, maybe publishing the sequel will become a possibility. It’s a dream but then, where would we be without dreams?

The city also started other schools, all in libraries, because after the years of sitting empty, the school buildings need a lot of work before they’re in useable condition again. The libraries, having been used regularly – without TV, people got back into reading – are some of the buildings still in good shape, and they have plenty of room so they are good places for classes until the repairs on the schools are completed. And we need schools because the world going to shit didn’t stop people from having babies. All those born since the Event are now school age and parents are clamoring to get them properly educated.

To my immense surprise, one day a check arrived for me from the Board of Education. There was an accompanying letter explaining that it was my long ago missing summer pay. Whatever the original problem was has been corrected, and someone is going through old records and locating the teachers who’d never gotten the pay, and any who are still alive are finally receiving their money. As my father would’ve said, “Nothing is lost that comes at last”.

I’m busy these days. I continue to write, and I teach two days a week in one of the temporary schools. Much of my time and money goes to making sure that the kids who need it will have food, shoes, clothing, books, pencils, backpacks, etc. I’m back to doing fundraisers – there are fewer people but you’d be surprised at how many are willing to donate.

I still have the little brown elf magnet and Zoni’s last note to me, and I sometimes take them out and remember. The pain is still there but it’s muted and I can now think of her as she was before the Event. I will never get my old life back, but this one offers some measure of contentment and while teaching was my first love, I’ve found that tracking is something I won’t be giving up.

So, if you have someone you want to locate, I’m still in the small office over the smoke shop. I might be out somewhere rounding up supplies for kids or teaching on those two days a week, but leave a message and I’ll get it. Or, I may be at my laptop working on a new novel but I’ll stop for a possible client.

Just say hello to Lowell and follow the sign that says “Tracker Up”.

####

Other Works by Bea Cannon

(Novels)

*Boucher’s World: Emergent (Book 1 of the Boucher’s World Trilogy)

*Boucher’s World: Transformations (Book 2 of the Boucher’s World Trilogy)

*Boucher’s World: Encounters (Book 3 of the Boucher’s World Trilogy)

*Bridge

*Turner: Bitter Change (Book 1 of the Spaceships and Magic series)

*Turner: World Change (Book 2 of the Spaceships and Magic series)

*Turner: Unexpected Change (Book 3 of the Spaceships and Magic series)

*Turner: Inevitable Change (Book 4 of the Spaceships and Magic series)

*Turner: Deep Change (Book 5 of the Spaceships and Magic series)

*First

*Sower

(Novellas)

*Seed

*Swallow And Dove: A Tale From The Turmoils

**A Blankie for Baby (#3 of the Cady and Sam series)

(Novelettes)

*Raven and C’elie: A Love Story

**Living in the Moment (#2 of the Cady and Sam series)

*Hard Changes

(Short Stories)

**Interruptions (#1 of the Cady and Sam series)

Moving Day

Why I Started Smokin’ Cigarettes

Adams and Eves

The Other Shoe (#4 of the Cady and Sam series)

A Price to Pay: A Short Story from the Dark Realm

*Available in paperback and ebook

**Also available in ebook and paperback as a collection in A Short Trilogy of Quiet

About the Author

Bea lives in Charlotte, NC.

In addition to writing science fiction and fantasy (and a smidgen of horror), she enjoys a good read, working crossword puzzles, walking, drawing, and painting.

She is a retired electronics technician and admits to having worked at a variety of other jobs during her life, including being a dishwasher, a busgirl, a housemaid, a motel/hotel maid, working in a fast-food joint, a telephone operator, and a store clerk. There have been other, not-so-glamorous jobs, including picking cotton.

She also daydreams a lot.

You have her heartfelt thanks for reading this book!

Blog: http://pcannon16.wordpress.com/

Face Book Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bea-Cannon/295432397242703

Twitter: https://twitter.com/pbeacannon

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6869960.Bea_Cannon

Email: onlypeal@gmail.com

Copyright

A Small Gray Dot

Copyright© 2018, Bea Cannon

All rights reserved

Edited by Ainsley Morris

License Notes:

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are imaginary, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Contains some instances of violence and profanity and scenes not suitable for children.

Content

Bea Cannon
A SMALL GRAY DOT

Part One: The Event

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Part Two: Tracking

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Part Three: Blue Heaven

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Part Four: A Small Gray Dot

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Part Five: The Binqua

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Epilogue

Other Works by Bea Cannon

About the Author

Copyright