From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: That Terrible Price Part 5 Date: 23 May 1993 12:20:27 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA) Lines: 243 Message-Id: <1tnq6b$d31@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu Part 5 I didn't sleep. Couldn't. We had to get the kid back, or at least find that blip that meant life. Ziggy exhausted every possibility, still insisting that Swann check the link. Never was I more relieved to see the agitated look on the doctor's face as he entered Control. "It's dead." His expression was pinched. The guy didn't like being proved wrong. "Short circuited, but I can't tell you why. We worked hard to make sure something like this wouldn't happen. I have a rplacement, and I'm taking the old one out, as soon as Paul Bellows arrives. That name rang an old bell. Sam's surgeon, the guy that had placed that intricate piece of hardward in his head. "Where is he?" I asked. "Los Angeles, and he'll be here in two hours. Another hour, and you can run the check again." Sighing, Swann gave me a tired grin. "Good luck, Admiral." I watched him leave and sunk down on the old chair Sam had always used the nights he spent in this room. Nobody besides me dared sit in it; I wouldn't allow it. The arms are worn from the way he used to rub them when he thought, and it wasn't the best on the back, but I felt closer to him when I sat in it. Damn it, kiddo, this was getting just too damned complicated. ****************** SAM: I'd leaped, that much I knew. My knowledge of the previous experience was gone, wiped like water off a windshield. Glancing down, I realized I was knee deep in muddy water, colder than was comfortable. The reflection looking back at me was that of a child, maybe seven or eight years old. His face was pleasant, something I remembered from an old label on a peanut butter jar, with a shock of red hair falling over my forehead. Cute. I squished out of the mud and fell on the bank of the river, enjoying the complete peacefullness of the scene. Except for the sound of sirens, it was perfect. Sirens??? I looked up at the bridge above me as the lights and noise slowed and stopped directly over my head. Men in uniforms struggled down the bank, weeds, long grass, and their own weight problems encumbering their route. "Hey, there's a kid!" I stood as one of the police officers approached me. The sun glinted off his badge, his face serious, but friendly, indulging what he perceived to be a child. "Doing some fishing, Walter?" he asked. Walter. Since I wasn't carrying anything resembling a rod and reel, i shook my head. He crounched down in front of me, his small brown eyes meeting me at my level. My head snapped around at the commotion as the other man found something. That's when I saw the body, slightly hidden by reeds, just a few feet across the river from where I'd been wading. All I could see was the dead man's white shirt, and the blood.... "C'mon, Walt. I'll take you home." The policemen's hand came down on my shoulder, making no bones about what I would have to do. "You shouldn't be around here, pal." I tried to get a better look at the dead man, but the big guy wrappedhis arms around me and forcibly turned me away. We climbed the bank and he set me in the passenger seat of a squad car, a newer model, close enough to the time I'd like to be at, if it was possible. Good. I wasn't too far out of my range of time, and, until Al appeared on the scene I could handle things. "Walt?" That was the first time it happened; the strange feeling that I wasn't alone. Well, of course I wasn't alone--here was this nice policeman, but the feeling came from inside, like one time before, but damned if I could remember the details of that Leap. I'd felt the sensation since the moment I saw the body, but it was growing more intense, making my head ache. "Hey, kid, you all right? Did you see something back there?" I had to force my mouth to work, lips and tongue feeling awkward and heavy, as if something was keeping me from saying the words I wanted to. "I...didn't..." I shook my head abruptly in an attempt to clear it. "I don't remeber," I said truthfully, pressing my hands over my eyes. "Okay, Walt, okay. I'll take you home to Mom and we'll talk later." He started the car and pulled away from the other vehicles. From the passenger seat I couldn't see the men below, but my mind was painting pictures that I hadn't seen since I leaped in. Like from another leap; maybe theone I couldn't remember. One image made me catch my breath; Al's face. Tears. Grief stricken, but why? What had happened?? The officer looked at me with concern, handing me a cloth handkerchief like my father had always seemed to have when it was needed. I blew my nose and wiped the tears from my face. Hell, I had better control over my emotions that this! Okay, I thought, take in the area. The plastic I.D. that hung on the glove compartment read Officer Mark Jones with the Littlefield California Police Department. "Is your Mom home, Walt?" His voice was soft and kind. I liked this guy. Obviously, he knew how to handle kids. "I'm not sure." Then the unexplainable fear rose in me. "I want my MOMMY!" flew out of my mouth before I could stop the gesture. "And we'll find her, Walty. Doncha worry, ole Bouncer will get you right home." Why had I done that? Was a part of the kid still there, or was I just plain losing it? Had to be that. I was really tired, and maybe my subconscious was taking over the role of Walter and unerringly saying things I'd not normally say. "I'm sorry," I said, settling back into the seat. The strange feeling had slunk away for the moment; what a relief. "Why did you call yourself Bouncer? "When I was in high school I was in Guys and Dolls. It's a musical, way before your time, Walt. Anyway, I played a few roles, because I was the fattest kid and they wanted me around. They called me Bouncer ater what after what I did in that. Hell, most times I forget my given name is Mark. You've been calling me that since you could talk." His eyes were on me, concerned and a little afraid. "What's up, buddy? "I'm scared, I managed, meaning it. "Well, here's your house, and it looks like your Mom is home." He pulled into the driveway of a log home, A-frame, with a beautifully manicured lawn, flowers, just perfect. A slim, thirtysomething woman with hair to match Walt's, was standing outside the front door, looking worried. My hands worked the handle of the door before Bouncer had managed to stop the car and feet flew as I ran down the driveway to wrap myself around her legs. All of which, done without my voluntary say so. This was getting damned scary. I thought fleetingly of demonic possesion, like Al probably would, if he was here. God, I missed him. Maybe when he showed up he could give me a clue to what was going on in my head. "Walty, what's wrong?" 'Mom's' hand settled on my hair, stroking it soothingly. Her eyes rose to meet Bouncer's concerned look. "I need to speak to you, Madlys. Alone" Once she'd disentangled my arms from her legs, she led me into the house and put me to bed. I protested, which was expected of me, and she smiled indulgently and made me lie down on the patchwork quilt spread. As soon as the door closed, I ran over and pressed my ear to the door, hoping I could hear something of hers and Bouncer's conversation. Not a thing. The door was too thick, or something. I sunk back down on the bed, waiting for Al, knowing so well he'd be able to hear every bit of it, and help me out. I couldn't get the sight of his face out of my head, just incredible with pain. What had happened, and why was he crying? <> The words came unbidden to my mind. Someone speaking to me? There was no one else in the room. "Who's there?" I whispered, hoping I wouldn't get an answer. <> Every muscle twitched as my panic increased. I was not used to hearing other voices, except my own. This was the voice of a frightened little boy, and I had a good feeling that whatever had occured as I'd leaped in hadn't been normal. Not by a long shot. "My name is Sam," I said tenatively, worried about the response to that. <> I wanted Al. Right now. Where was he??? "I can't leave, Walt," I said, my voice shaking. "I can't. I'm trapped. Where are you?" <> How could I answer him without panicking the child out of his wits? My head hurt from the sound of his voice echoing in there. "I sort of Leaped.. into you, Walt. I can't leave. It's difficult to explain." <> "Sort of like that. What do you remember before I...showed up?" That was important, I thought, if Bouncer should come in here asking questions. <> A hiss of frustration left my lips. Little kids could be very stubborn. I remembered similar conversations with Katie's kids and the questions they'd ask. "We're sort of stuck together, Walt," I said, trying to maintain my patience. "I need to know what you saw when you were wading in the stream. Please." There was a silence for a long while, then a small sigh. <> The kid started sobbing. <> "It's okay, Walt," I said, just as the door opened. Bouncer and Mom wee were looking at me very strangely. The woman sat next to me on the bed, arm over my shoulder comfortingly. "Who were you talking to, Walt?" I ducked my head, the voice screaming for it's mother, and me helpless to do a thing about it. "I .... wasn't talking." "Don't lie, Walt. I heard you speaking. Never mind. Bouncer wants to ask you some questions." The cop knelt before me, smiling. His eyes were friendly, his hand gripping mine in his. "Did you see Mr. Belton?" "Yes," I managed, the little voice fading for a moment as I spoke. I repeated what Walt had told me, getting the distinct impression tht the child was impressed by the fact that I had the guts to tell the truth. "Do you know who hurt him, Walt?" Bouncer's voice was gentle, even and controlled. "You saw the men, right???" <> "NO, NO, NO!!!" I echoed, falling back on the bed. I'd had enough of this. The adults exchanged looks, and I felt the little control I had over the child slipping as my exhaustion grew. Unerringly, I felt myself slip into darkness as the child came forward, reaching for his mother. My last sensation was her arms around me as I passed into the black. ************ More to come Terri -- "Girls who have glasses have lots & lots of energy!" Al--Single Drop of Rain Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu--Assistant Sysop The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI