Message-Id: <199308231530.AA03852@dirt.cisco.com> Date: Mon, 23 Aug 93 10:34:57 CDT From: Gina Goff Subject: "Afterimage", part 8 "Afterimage" by Gina Goff Part Eight "How does Ruthie die, Al?" "Head injury. That snotty little Michael Pendergast pushes her at recess." "Michael Pen... that's the boy she had a fight with on Friday." "Right. Well, some of the other kids tease him about losing to a girl, so he decides to come back for more. He shoves her and she falls down and hits her head and... she dies twenty minutes later." "Oh, Al... I'll stop it. I promise." The following morning, Sam crept into Ruthie's room. _If I can keep Ruthie home from school today, her chance of dying drops to 41%._ "Ruthie? Are you awake?" "Maxine? What is it?" "I had a bad dream. Can I crawl in with you?" Ruthie lifted the covers and Sam got into bed next to her. "I don't want to go to school today, Ruthie." "You've got to go to school." "No, I don't. I could tell Mommy I'm sick. You could tell her you're sick, too, and we could stay home and play together." "Mom's never going to believe you." "Sure she will. I'll just tell her my stomach hurts." _She'll have to believe me. I have a better chance of saving your life if I'm escaping from home instead of nursery school_. "Oh, Max, you get a stomachache *every* Monday morning. 'Sides, what would we do? Play Barbies?" "Or dig in the sandbox," said Sam. "Or both. We could have a funeral. We could bury Sharon's Barbie," Ruthie giggled. Sam laughed, too. _Looks like I've been playing dolls with the wrong daughter._ "Ruthie?" said Beth from the doorway. "And Maxine. What are you doing in here? It's time to get up, girls." "I don't think I can go to school today, Mommy," said Sam. "My stomach feels funny." Beth walked over to him, caressed his cheek, and smiled. "It must be all that giggling." _Great timing, Sam._ "Really, Mommy." "Maxine, I've heard it a hundred times. Go on, get dressed." _Maybe I can warn Ruthie to be careful,_ Sam thought while they were eating breakfast. "You know that boy you hit?" he said to Ruthie, while Sharon claimed for the third time that someone had hidden her favorite shirt. "What about him?" said Ruthie. Theresa broke in, "Mom, I've got a permission slip for a field trip that you and Dad have to sign today." "Both of us? Where are you going? And why do you always leave these things 'til the last minute?" "Mom, I've just *got* to wear that shirt today." "I think you should stay away from him, Ruthie. He might try to hurt you." "Sharon, I don't know where your shirt is. If you can't find it yourself, you'll have to wear something else today." "Mom..." "That's it. I'm sorry." "He's not going to hurt me, Maxine. I can take care of him." "Mom, where's Dad?" "He's making an important phone call, Theresa. Give me the slip and I'll get him to sign it." "No, really, Ruthie..." Sam began, but she was busy telling Sharon (with great relish and no truthfulness) that a burglar had broken into the house for the express purpose of stealing Sharon's favorite shirt. "Ruthie," Beth interrupted, "cease and desist. Brush your teeth and get your things. All of you." The girls obediently rose and left, but Sam remained at the table. "Mommy, I really do feel funny." "Oh, honey," Beth sighed, pulling a startled Sam onto her lap, "why do you always do this on Monday? Why is it you like school every other day of the week?" "I don't feel good. Honest. I need to stay home today." "Well, I could take your temperature, but I think we both know you're not running a fever. You know what your problem really is?" _Yes, I know, but you don't._ "What?" "Your problem is that you have a mean mommy." Sam smiled in spite of himself. "No, it's true. See, I had a mean mommy, too, so I know how to do it right. Tell you what, though. The next time we go shopping, we'll get you a new mommy." "A new mommy?" Sam said, grinning incredulously. "Mmhmm, we'll get you a nice mommy. She'll let you eat ice cream any time you want and stay up all night. And she won't make you take baths or go to school on Mondays. But until then, you're stuck with me, so you'd better go get your shoes." _How am I going to keep my promise to Al?_ Sam thought, as he worked on a painting. _I tried to get Ruthie to play sick, and she wouldn't. I tried to convince Beth I was sick, and that didn't work, either. And Ruthie wouldn't believe that Michael could be a threat._ "My problem is that I'm four years old and nobody listens to me." "I listen to you." said Al, as he stepped into the Imaging Chamber. "Al? Get out of here. The room's full of little kids. They can see you." "I know they can see me. Hi," Al said, waving to a nearby child, "I'm Maxine's daddy." "Al..." "Sam, you're four years old. You can talk to invisible people and nobody cares. Haven't these kids already told the teacher you're not Maxine?" "Yes, but the teacher didn't believe them." "My point exactly. Oh, Sam, you'll never be an artist," Al said, while eyeing Sam's painting critically. "I'm not in the mood to be creative. Al, I've got to get out of here. Any ideas on the best way to make a jail break from nursery school?" "Don't." "What do you mean, `don't'?" "Well, suppose you do manage to escape from here? You've still got to run over to the elementary school, which is two miles from here, and find Ruthie, and save her. All without being stopped by an adult. I don't know if you've noticed, Sam, but a small child running around loose tends to attract attention." "So maybe I'll get caught. I still have to try." "No. If you get caught, Beth will probably toast your tushie, and she's definitely gonna watch you like a hawk for the rest of the day. You won't have a chance to get anywhere near Ruthie, so you won't be able to save her." Sam thought for a moment, then picked up a small container of paint. "They'd probably send me home if I threw up. Would Maxine try to drink paint?" "Yeah, that does sound like Maxine, but don't drink that stuff, Sam..." "It's not toxic..." "Don't, Sam. You don't have to. Principal Nozzle just called Beth and told her he wants to meet with the Calaviccis to discuss Ruthie's `antisocial behavior'. If you can sit tight for a while, Beth is going to pick you up early and take you to the elementary school. Which is exactly where you want to go." "Al, can I ask you a question?" Dr. Beckett said. "If it's quick, Sam. I've got to meet Beth for a conference with the school principal. Jackass." "These notes you gave me yesterday... do you remember if I gave them all to you at the same time?" "I don't know, let me look at them again." Admiral Calavicci quickly flipped through the first two-thirds of the papers, then stopped suddenly and went back a page or two. _Oh, my God, I've never seen this page before. Is that what he's been up to? And why?_ He realized that Sam was watching him closely. _Sam doesn't remember these, either. Should I say something? Not yet._ He thumbed through the rest of the notes, trying to remain nonchalant. Finally, he handed the papers back to Sam, saying, "Sorry, Sam I really don't remember." "That's okay, Al. Thanks." He left Al's office. Al sat down, suddenly feeling ill. _Which do you want to believe, Calavicci? That Sam wrote up a design he no longer remembers, or that someone else did those calculations?_ The phone rang. He reached for it, thinking, _Damn, I'll probably be late as it is._ "Calavicci." "Al. This is Bob. I don't know how you pulled it off, but I just got the test results. Um, the answer is yes." "Oh..." Al sighed. "Is that bad?" "Could be worse. Thanks, Bob, I owe you one." _Now what do I do?_ Beth and Sam sat outside the principal's office, waiting for Admiral Calavicci. _How am I going to get away from them?_ thought Sam. _Are they going to take me in the principal's office with them, or will they leave me outside with the secretary? It would be a lot easier to slip away from the secretary..._ "I don't know where your father is," said Beth. Sam, who was ostensibly playing with Barbie and Ken, saw an opportunity. "Daddy doesn't like to talk to nozzles." "Maxine!" Beth hissed, looking up to see if the secretary had heard Sam. The secretary stared back at her coldly. "Maxine, you mustn't say that, especially not here." "Why not, he's a ..." Beth briefly clasped a hand over Sam's mouth. "Don't you dare." "I'll say it if I want to," Sam said, in as petulant a tone as he could manage. _Does she think I'm winding up for a tantrum? Please, Beth, decide you can't trust me to behave in front of the principal_. Beth looked down at him and said, "I won't have it, Maxine," in a quiet, penetrating voice that made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand up. "Mrs. Calavicci?" "Mr. Pendergast. My husband seems to be a little late. Perhaps we could start without him." "I'm a very busy man, Mrs. Calavicci. Won't you come in?" Beth turned to Sam and spoke in a low, firm voice. "I want you to stay right here and play Barbies. Right in this chair, do you understand?" "Yes, ma'am". _Wonderful._ "You can bring the child in with you if you'd like," said Mr. Pendergast. Beth smiled at the principal and used the same quiet voice that had frightened Sam. "I don't think Maxine needs to hear what I intend to say." _Ouch,_ thought Sam. _Life will not be fun when she discovers I've run off on her. Now if I can just manage not to run smack into `Daddy' on the way out..._ He looked over at the secretary, who was watching him with an air of distrust. He smiled at her and pretended to play with the dolls. Al suddenly appeared by his side. "Sam, you gotta get out of here, you've only got a few minutes." "Only a few minutes?" Sam said, moving the Ken doll as if it were speaking. "Where do you want to go, Barbie?" "Ziggy says straight out the front door is your best bet." Sam looked at the secretary again; she was talking on the phone and not paying attention to him. He slipped out of his seat and left the office. So far, so good. No one was pursuing him. He went out the front door and tried to lose himself among the other children at recess. The playground was a large asphalt area on the edge of the parking lot. "Where is she?" he asked. "Ziggy... Over there, Sam! See?" Sam looked where Al was pointing and saw Ruthie playing kickball with a group of girls on the edge of the playground. She was talking to two other girls, and apparently waiting her turn at bat. "No, Sam, don't run! You don't want to attract attention. I don't see the boy yet; you've got time to walk. Go over there, nice and easy. Home plate's right in front of the sidewalk," said Al, gesturing at the pavement that surrounded the school and rose eight inches above the asphalt. "That's what she hit her head on," said Sam, quickening his pace. "Uh-oh, Sam, they're after you." Sam glanced back for a moment and saw the secretary and Beth speaking to one of the teachers monitoring the playground. When he looked ahead and saw Michael walking up to Ruthie, he began to run. By the time he reached Ruthie, Michael had interrupted the kickball game and was trading insults with her. Sam said, "Ruthie," and she turned to him, but Sam was distracted momentarily by an angry male voice yelling "Maxine!" nearby. When Sam looked back at Ruthie, she was already falling. He darted behind her, trying to catch her, but was caught off- balance. He fell against the sidewalk, with Ruthie on top of him.