From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande)
Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative
Subject: That Terrible Price Part 6
Date: 27 May 1993 18:42:18 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
Lines: 139
Message-Id: <1u322a$br0@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu


AL:

I was ready to kill something.  A whole day had slipped out of our 
fingers, and we still hadn't found Sam.  Paul Bellows had removed the
old implant and replaced it with a working, updated model.  Now, Ziggy
and Gush were doing their best to track our time traveler.  I'd crashed
on a couch in auxilary control, in a room Sam and I had christened the
Swamp, just outside of the I.C.

Bad dreams, mostly about the kid, kept me waking and jumping out for more c
coffee.  I nearly jumped out of my skin when the elevator doors opened and
Gushie came running in, waving a sheet of printouts.

"We found him!"

I grabbed the programmer and swung him around bodily, bad breath and all.
"I told you!" I shouted, to anyone who'd bother to listen.

"Thank God we listened to you."  Gushie pulled himself together, his face
one big smile.  "I've got the Imaging Chamber fired up, and ready!"

Before the word 'ready' was out of his mouth, I was on my way through the
doors.  My hand shook as I grabbed the link from the wall bracket and the
entrance slipped open to admit me.  I'd never admit how much I missed Sam,
not to him, anyway, but the sight of him curled into a ball on the 
child's bed was enough to make me want to do a jig.

Sam:

The sound of the i.c. door opening made my eyes open.  I was back.  The 
child in my mind was probably asleep. It was late, after eleven, by the
digital Batman clock by the bed.  I'd put a real scare into Walt's mom,
and she was talking psychiatrist.  Bouncer was due back in the morning,
and I was not looking forward to another round of dueling minds.

"Al?"  I was almost afraid I'd imagined the sound of his arrival.  The
sight of his concerned face above me was overwhelming.  His eyes were a 
touch too bright, and I couldn't decipher the expression on his face for
a moment.  I sat up on one elbow, giving him my best reassuring grin. 
"It's great to see you!"

"My Little Pony pajamas, how cute!" he chided, but his voice was oddly
choked. "Sorry about the wait, kiddo.  We had a little trouble for a
while, but I'm here...now."

"Al, you look beat.  And upset. What's wrong?"

His face grew serious.  Punching some controls on the link, he sat down
on the bed, stabilizing his image so he could appear to do so.  "Kid, I've
had a shitty two days.  We lost you for a while, but it's over and I"m back,
so let's get down to brass tacks."  He wasn't going to tell me his problems
or why he was so close to tears, so I just laid back and listened.  His
eyes were on the link, widening with annoyance.  "What do you mean you don't
know???"  He gave me a grin, then smacked the instrument with all the
enthusiasm he could muster.  He flashed a look from me to the link and
back again.  "What's this kid's name, Sam?
"
"Walt Jordan. He's seven, and, Al..."

"Well, a name."  He spoke over my words like he hadn't noticed I was still
talking.  "Good.  I'll check him over with Ziggy. What city is this?"

"Littlefield, California, July 21, 1993." I somehow knew he needed all that
information. It was growing difficult for me to keep my eyes open, the
little presence inside, or whatever, sleeping so deeply he was drawing me
into his rest.  "Al, there's something I really need to tell you."

His head snapped up, and I could see the agonized expression clearly open
and clear on his face.  He looked about as bad as he had when he'd been
at Beth's, on that Leap.  In that one expression, I could see the pain
my 'disappearance' had caused him.

"I'm not alone here."

"Well, of course not. I'm...."

This conversation was beginning to sound very familiar. From when, I 
could'nt place it. "Al, the kid didn't leap when I did."  The frightened
look that crossed his face made me shudder.  "Damn it, he's still here.
Right now, sleeping in my head, and I..."

"hat's impossible, Sam."  He leaned forward, giving me a good look in
the eye.  "Can't be.  Maybe you've been bouncing around for so long yoiu
got confused, all snarled up.  That could be it."

"How do you explain the voice I hear?"  My own tone was edging on
hysteria, and I could feel Walt just stirring in the back of my mind.  
"Or when I'm upset and he surfaces?  His mother is beside herself with
worry, and might take me to a psychiatrist, and the police want to
question me about a murder the kid might have witnessed."

That stopped him cold.  I saw the tremble pass over him as he glanced
down at the link and back to me.  "What murder, Sam?"

"Some guy named Marty Belton.  I leaped in just as the police arrived
and ..."

Al made a small choking sound, and looked as if he were about to fall
to the floor in a dead faint.  His complexion had gone from white to
slate grey, and he was perspiring as if very warm.  My memory of
being a doctor forced it's way to the front, worried if he was having
a heart attack.  "Al!"  I said sharply, making his head come up.  "What
is wrong?"

He took a long shaking breath, his coloration coming up a bit.  "Sam,
we've got to talk."

"Go ahead."  I laid back on the pillow.  The kid had settled again and I
was having less of a problem staying awake.  Hated babysitting, especially
this way, and I hoped Al could figure out that little problem.

He licked his lips, dry as they seemed, and started pacing as he spoke,
that ever present cigar filling the room with holographic smoke.  "do
you remember your last leap, Sam?'

My forehead furrowed as I thought back.  I had a vauge recollection, but
nothing I could stop and look at.  That, in itself, was unusual.  "I
really can't, and I usually can."

He ceased his movement and turned to stare at me, as if he'd made up
his mind.  "Kid," he said, his voice firm and clear.  "You were Marty
Belton."

That memory of Al's face, that had haunted me since the beginnings of this
Leap, had frightened the living wits out of me, and made me grieve for my
friend, flashed  before my memory a moment.  It all added up, every bit
of it.  I had died, or Marty had, and somehow had been leaped into the
seven year old child that had witnessed the entire thing.  That was
just a supposition, and it was difficult at best to get Walt to talk about
it. Why the boy hadn't leaped out when I came in was a mystery to me.

more to come....

Terri in Cleveland
-- 
"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