CHAPTER NINETY
July 4, 1948, 11:40 a.m.
Downtown Corona
Marana stared in shock at the questioning, slightly ironic face of the child who was Brivari's ally. Oh, how embarrassing! She was supposed to be tailing the child; to have said child walk right up beside her without her noticing was bad enough, but to be recognized....if Amar ever heard about this, she'd never hear the end of it. And here she'd been so proud of herself this morning when she'd convinced Amar to stay behind and watch the child's house when they had observed the family leaving.
"Where is everyone going?" Marana had asked, watching other human families nearby also climbing into the transportation devices known as "cars".
"It's a human holiday," Amar had said in a bored tone.
"Celebrating what?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," Amar had answered.
"Well, what do they do to celebrate?" she'd asked with mild exasperation. Malik would have given her a five minute lecture on the holiday's history and celebratory practices, something she'd found herself longing for right about then.
"They have parades, play incredibly stupid games, eat lots of sloppy food, and shoot explosives into the night sky," Amar had replied. "Boring."
But it hadn't sounded boring to Marana. She'd been going stir crazy cooped up in their house with no company but Malik and his seemingly endless supply of human friends, but being on a stakeout with Amar was even worse. "Shouldn't we follow them?" she'd asked hopefully. "What if Brivari finds them while they're away?"
"Brivari would come here first because he wouldn't know they were away," Amar answered, in a just-exactly-how-stupid-are-you tone of voice.
"He might, if he's aware of the holiday," Marana had argued. "Let's split up. You obviously want to stay here, so I'll go keep an eye on the family."
"Suit yourself," Amar had replied, yawning.
Fifteen minutes later, Marana had found herself at what appeared to be the town center, gazing down on a large assembly of excited humans. She'd scrutinized the women very carefully before crafting a suitable disguise for herself and spent several long minutes hovering in the doorway of a building before stepping out into the largest group of humans she had yet encountered. A jumble of sights and sounds had greeted her as she tottered along in footwear with heels that were uncomfortably high. Lowering the heels considerably had fixed that problem, and she had wandered, fascinated, for several minutes without even giving the girl or her family a passing thought. Humans of all ages gathered, the adults talking, the children playing, and everyone periodically gazing down the street, anticipating she knew not what. Shopkeepers lined the main thoroughfare selling all manner of strange confections and souvenirs. Color seemed to play a prominent role in this celebration, three colors in particular: Red, white, and blue. These were plastered on everything from food, to crockery, to clothing, to the more formal rectangles of cloth of varying sizes which bore those colors along with a field of white stars. Some kind of tribal banner, perhaps? If only Malik, were here. He would be not only able, but eager to answer her questions.
After a few minutes, she'd begun to feel the effects of Earth's hot sun. Being Covari, she was able to deal with the resulting perspiration without producing the unsightly clothing stains now visible on almost every human, but that didn't make her feel any less hot. So when she'd seen the vendor selling frozen confections, she'd steeled her nerves and approached him, pulling out the selection of currency Malik had given her in case she needed it. Of course, having it was not synonymous with understanding it as her current predicament proved. She'd learned a great deal about humans in the months she'd been here, enough to disguise herself for a short while at least in a variety of situations, but some things still escaped her. Currency was one of them.
*You've got people stacking up behind you,* the child observed, jolting Marana out of her reverie. *Tell him which popsicle you want, and let me pay for it.*
In a daze, Marana glanced back to find a long line of sweaty humans behind her, many edging sideways to find out what was causing the delay. I am, she thought ruefully, along with your stupid insistence on using currency.
"She'll take a blue popsicle," the child announced suddenly, plucking a small silver coin from Marana's hand and offering it to the relieved human shopkeeper.
"And one for the child as well," Marana said, guessing that she probably had enough currency to afford both.
"Okay. Then I'll have a red-white-and-blue one," the child said, plucking two more coins from Marana's hand. The shopkeeper handed one of the curious blue foods on a wooden stick to Marana and a similar tri-colored one to the child. "Thank you," he said, more to the child then Marana. "Next!"
The child took Marana by the arm and hauled her away from the confection display as the line of people surged forward behind them. *You'd better eat that before it melts,* she said.
Marana watched as the child began sucking, then did the same herself, finding the cold welcome. *Why do I have the monochrome confection while you have the tri-color?* she asked, feeling slightly ridiculous to even be asking.
*Color means flavor,* the child explained. *One color, one flavor; three colors, three flavors. You can't taste, so why waste the money?*
Marana's heart pounded in her chest as she ducked under the overhang of a building, feeling suddenly exposed. It was incredibly unsettling to have a human recognize her, speak to her telepathically, and have information about her species no human should have. *How did you know who I was?* she demanded of the child, who had paused along with Marana, still sucking on her confection. What did I do to give it away? she added to herself in silent embarrassment.
*I don't know who you are,* the child replied, giving her a steady stare. *I just know what you are. And I knew because you used the world 'currency'. That's what Urza called it.*
Urza. The child spoke the name of a Royal Warder casually, as though Urza were a close friend. Bizarre, to say the least.
*You're a girl,* the child said, eyeing Marana up and down. *I've never met a girl from Antar.*
*I'm not really a female,* Marana answered, doing her best to hide her surprise that the child knew the name of her planet. *I'm—*
*I know—Urza told me. You're not a boy or a girl. You're whatever you are at the moment.*
*Not quite,* Marana answered, more sure of herself now. Biology was familiar ground, and she desperately needed familiar ground at the moment. *Actually, I'm both. Most of us have reproductive cells from both genders.*
*Oh,* the child replied, obviously put out at not being in the know. *Why didn't Urza tell me that?*
*He was probably simplifying things for you,* Marana answered with a small smile, *though I would argue that was unnecessary.*
The child looked at her warily for a moment, ultimately deciding she was being complimented, not teased. *You look good,* she declared, examining Marana critically. *The dress is good. Purse is good. This is way better than Jaddo did.*
Jaddo. It was hard to imagine a human, never mind a child, on speaking terms with the most feared of the Royal Warders save for Brivari. *What exactly did Jaddo do?* Marana asked, wondering if she'd be able to fish any information out of the child.
But the child smiled at her indulgently and shook her head. *The only thing missing is that you're not sweating,* she continued, ignoring Marana's question. *How can you not be sweating in this heat?*
*I am perspiring,* Marana replied. *You just don't see it.*
*Why not?*
*Because I dispose of it before you see it.*
*How?*
Marana sighed. If she wanted to move the child along to more interesting subjects, she'd better get her off this one, and since the child obviously knew quite a bit about them, there was probably no harm in answering. *I.....I move it off myself,* she said, struggling for the right words. *I just......I loosen those cells and let them fall.*
*Neat,* the child commented as juice from her "popsicle" trailed down her arm. *Okay, let's get down to business. I don't know where Brivari is. We haven't seen him since all of you showed up at Christmas, so you can stop hanging around our house.*
Marana's eyes widened, startled by her bluntness. *Just because you haven't seen him doesn't mean he won't come back here.*
*Why do you think he's coming back here now? You weren't hanging around here before.*
*What makes you think that?*
The child gave her a pitying look. *If you'd been here before, you wouldn't have been able to resist testing me like you did yesterday.*
*Perhaps,* Marana said, unnerved at how quickly the child had made that deduction, *but just because I wasn't here doesn't mean someone else wasn't.*
As the child frowned at this announcement, apparently unable to come up with a rejoinder, Marana seized the opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction. *Did Brivari and the others tell you why they're here?*
*Sure,* the child said casually. *Their king got hurt, so they brought him here to get better.*
A reasonable fiction, Marana thought silently. The best lies always contained some truth. *Do you know where the King is now?*
The child shrugged. *They didn't say. I certainly never saw him. But even if I had, why would I tell you? You're working for the bad guy.*
Bad guy? Well, of course Brivari would have put everything in extremely simplistic terms that tilted in his favor. *The situation is far more complex than that,* Marana said, *although I wouldn't expect you to understand.*
The child stopped walking and turned to face her. *I understand a lot more than you think I do. And I've noticed that a lot of things that are supposed to be complicated really aren't.*
Marana smiled slightly. *Maybe you're not old enough to understand.*
The child returned her smile. *Or maybe grown-ups just make things more complicated than they really are.* She leaned in closer. *Brivari's not here. But go ahead and hang around. The longer you hang around here, the less chance there is that you'll catch him. And the more chance that someone from the Army will catch you.* She dropped her "popsicle" stick into a nearby waste receptacle. *Bye!*
The child walked away, and Marana stared after her for so long that when she finally came to her senses, there were two, big perspiration stains beneath the arms of her dress.
******************************************************
The hard wall pressed into Anthony's back as Trey Osborn held him firmly against it, his face only inches away. "Where is she?" Osborn demanded again. "We've been tailing you for awhile, and we're gettin' tired of it."
Anthony's eyes darted toward the happy Fourth of July crowd only feet away, but no one was looking this way. Funny how one could be so invisible while near so many people. "I don't know," he admitted, suddenly grateful that Dee wasn't with him. "I was looking for her myself."
"Yeah? Well, when you find her, you tell her we haven't forgotten that a year ago today is the day that Denny died. And we haven't forgotten that she knows something about that she's not tellin'."
"Okay," Anthony nodded, hoping they'd all leave now that their message had been delivered.
No such luck. "And we haven't forgotten that freaky handyman who did all those weird things neither."
Double negative, Anthony thought as he nodded again, clinging to Mr. Peters' grammar lessons as his life passed before his eyes.
"And we're gonna get it outa her," Osborn added, "one way or the other."
There was a great deal of smiling and nodding behind Osborn at this announcement as though this was everyone's favorite part of the speech. Anthony didn't join in the nodding this time, and Osborn punished this breach of etiquette by pulling him off the wall and slamming him into it a second time. "We're gonna," he repeated for emphasis, as though Anthony were actively disagreeing with him. "I promise you, we're gonna."
"Okay, okay," Anthony said hastily. "I'll tell her." And the Sheriff, he added silently, making a mental note to head for the nearest deputy first chance he got.
Assuming he'd get a chance that is. "You don't believe me, do you?" Osborn demanded, his eyes narrowing so far they were nearly closed. He was about to do the slam-him-into-wall routine again when Anthony held up his hands in supplication.
"I believe you," Anthony insisted. "I just don't know what all this is about. I wasn't even here at this time last year. We moved here after it happened."
Any faint hopes that Osborn and company would let him off the hook due to absence were dashed as wide smiles spread down the line of faces. Smiles were usually good news, except when worn by a group of thugs like this. "He's new in town!" crowed one of the gang, as Anthony mentally wondered how they could have missed that fact for an entire school year. "Let's show'im the welcome wagon, boys!"
"Let him go, Osborn!"
Anthony nearly sagged with relief when he saw a sheriff's deputy behind the row of gang members. A second later, he realized who it was....and so did Osborn. "You!" he said, releasing Anthony and pushing his way through the line, shaking a finger in Valenti's face. "I never heard anything from you! And you promised you'd check out that creepy handyman and make sure he paid for killing Denny!"
"Correction," Valenti said. "I told you I'd take your statement, which I did, and make some phone calls, which I also did. I didn't find anything."
"Are you calling us liars?" Osborn challenged.
"No," Valenti answered calmly. "I'm saying I didn't find anything worth investigating."
"Don't bullshit me!" Osborn exclaimed as angry exclamations rose from the others.
Anthony remained against the wall, holding his breath as Valenti stepped closer and gave a long, dramatic sniff. "You been drinkin', boys?"
Several pairs of eyes shifted, but no one answered. "Mm hmm," Valenti murmured. "Sure smells like it. Had you been drinking last year when you saw Denny with the handyman?"
"So you're sayin' it's all in our heads?" Osborn demanded angrily. "We made it all up?"
"I'm saying that a high school student who drinks before noon doesn't exactly qualify for the designation of 'credible witness', as we say in my line of work," Valenti said severely. "Come back when you're sober, Mr. Osborn, and we'll talk if you like. Now walk. And don't pull anything stupid today or tonight, or I'll be sure to point out to whoever makes the arrest that you were soused before noon. Got that?"
Valenti never moved a muscle as Osborn spit on the ground at his feet and stalked off, his friends following as they threw murderous looks Valenti's way. "Are you all right, Mr. Evans?" Valenti asked after they were gone.
"Yeah," Anthony said, his voice shaking slightly. "But I don't know how much longer I would have been."
"I'm sorry about that," Valenti said, running a hand over the damp spots on his uniform. "We were expecting them to cause trouble today, so we've been keeping an eye on them, but we can't keep an eye on them every minute."
"I know," Anthony said, wiping his own clammy hands on his shorts. "Thanks for the help."
"It was the least I could do," Valenti said softly.
They stared at each other, the noisy Independence Day crowd sounding far away in the silence between them. Anthony had seen Valenti from a distance, but he hadn't spoken to him even once since that awful day last December when he'd unwittingly saved him from that Army officer's clutches. And that was fine with Anthony because he'd really like to put that incident and his part in causing it behind him for good.
"Mr. Evans," Valenti said slowly, "I never got the chance to thank—"
"Don't," Anthony interrupted.
"Don't what?"
"Don't thank me."
"Why not?"
"Don't thank me," Anthony repeated. "Just don't."
Valenti looked flummoxed. "Mr. Evans, if it weren't for you and your quick thinking, I might not even be here right now. So whether you accept it or not, you have my thanks," he said, holding out his hand to shake Anthony's.
Anthony stared at the proffered hand and slowly shook his head, conscience trumping fear. "I don't deserve your thanks."
"You certainly do," Valenti objected.
"No, I don't!" Anthony exclaimed as Valenti dropped his hand in consternation. "I....I didn't call the Sheriff because I was afraid for you. I called him because I was afraid for Dee. Because I thought you were going to tell on her."
"Pardon my language, but I can truly say I don't give a damn why you called the Sheriff," Valenti said. "I'm just really glad you did. And whatever the reason you called, the end result was that you saved my bacon. Whether that was your original intention is beside the point."
"Was it really that bad?" Anthony whispered.
"Worse," Valenti said soberly.
"So....you really think that officer would have locked you up at the base and not let you out?"
Valenti shook his head. "I don't think so—I know so."
"So why'd you get in his car in the first place?"
"I didn't know he was going to do that," Valenti replied somewhat acerbically. "Well....maybe I should have....but the point is, I wasn't expecting him to outright abduct me if I didn't do what he wanted. I didn't think he'd go that far."
"You were going to tell on her, weren't you?" Anthony asked.
Valenti looked away. Behind him, the crowds continued to wander by, oblivious. "Yes, Mr. Evans," he said finally. "I was going to tell what I saw that night you called me to her house, if that's what you call 'telling on her'."
"That's what I thought," Anthony nodded. "I didn't really leave your house that day, you know. I left the side door open so you'd think I had, and then I went around to the living room and listened to everything you and that officer said."
Valenti's look of astonishment was slowly replaced by a small smile. "Good," he said approvingly. "Very good. So you already knew. Why'd you ask?"
"I wanted to see if you'd tell me the truth," Anthony answered.
"Well, I can certainly understand wanting to be told the truth," Valenti replied, a touch of irony in his voice. "And while we're both in a truthful mood, what about that day we first met when you set off all those firecrackers around my car and let the air out of my tires? Did you do that just to impress your new neighbors, or did you already know?"
"Sure I knew," Anthony said. "I knew you weren't telling me the truth about bird watching."
Boy and deputy stared at one another in silence for a moment before Valenti looked away. "I won't keep you, Mr. Evans. I'm glad you're all right, and I wouldn't worry about running into Osborn and company again. They've already been nicking food from the stalls, so I imagine they'll be rounded up and taken down to the station within the hour. We'll hold them overnight, so they won't be causing trouble tonight at the festival."
"Thanks," Anthony said. "I'll tell Dee."
"I haven't seen either of you for awhile," Valenti commented casually as they walked toward Main Street. "Everything quiet?"
"Totally quiet," Anthony answered, not needing a translation for "everything".
"Good," Valenti said. "I'd appreciate a heads up when that silence comes to an end."
"What makes you think that'll happen?"
Valenti stopped walking and turned to face Anthony. "I know you disagree with what I was about to do last Christmas, Mr. Evans, but I also know that whoever—or whatever—the Proctors are mixed up with will find its way back here. And when it does, all the good intentions in the world won't help. They can't defend themselves against what I saw. You know that; that's why you called me."
"There you are!" called an exasperated voice. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Dee materialized from the crowd, stopping short when she saw Valenti. "Oh. Hello," she said, looking back and forth from one to the other. "Is something wrong?"
"Not anymore," Anthony said quickly. "I'll tell you about it later. Let's go."
"Miss Proctor," Valenti said, eyeing her closely as he tipped his hat in greeting. "Good to see you. It's been awhile."
"Yeah, it has," Dee answered, returning his stare.
"We need to hurry, or we'll miss the parade," Anthony said, tugging Dee's arm. "Thanks again, Deputy. Goodbye."
"What is it?" Dee demanded as Anthony practically pulled her onto Main Street. "First you I couldn't find you, and now I find you with Valenti—"
"You were late," Anthony interrupted.
"Not that late. And what did Valenti want?"
"He was doing me a favor," Anthony said evasively. "And he wanted to know if everything was quiet, and I told him it was. And it is. Right?"
Dee stared at him a moment, her expression inscrutable "Yeah," she said finally. "Completely quiet."
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
"So there I was in my bathrobe and slippers, feeling like an absolute fool," Yvonne said, shaking her head at the memory. "Do you have any idea what it's like to deal with Major Cavitt in your pajamas?"
"It sounds like this is one time you didn't have to 'deal with him'," Corporal Brisson answered thoughtfully from his seat across from her in the compound's mess. "Offering you his personal phone, leaving you alone in his office, complementing you—that's incredible, especially considering the source. Cavitt's respect is very hard to earn."
"It might have just been posturing," Yvonne said, reaching for the salt shaker. "General Ramey was obviously pleased with me or he wouldn't have been asking for me personally, so Cavitt may have just been playing along."
Brisson shook his head. "Cavitt doesn't do that. Pierce does it, Lewis does it, but Cavitt doesn't—and he arguably should, if he wants to rise in the ranks. Generally speaking, the shinier the brass, the less it appreciates brutal honesty like Cavitt's."
" 'Generally' speaking?" Yvonne asked, one eyebrow raised.
"No pun intended," Brisson smiled. "But seriously, as much as Cavitt can be a cruel son of a bitch, I'd trust something he said long before I'd trust anything Pierce said. I almost prefer honest cruelty to dishonest kindness."
"Back when Ramey was telling us that he'd been ordered to have John executed, the first thing Pierce asked was whether he'd be able to perform the autopsy," Yvonne recalled, bitterness lacing her voice. "And here I thought he'd developed at least a little more respect for John than that. Anyone would have thought he was talking about a mouse in a cage."
Brisson hesitated for a moment. "You really think it's a person, don't you?"
Yvonne looked up in surprise. "And you don't?"
"Well, I......I don't see much of it," Brisson admitted. "I only administer the serum, which doesn't make me very popular with it, of course."
"Corporal," Yvonne said gently, "after everything John's done, helping Keyser and his engineers come up with this night vision device, reading books, making deals, even earning the General's respect, for heaven's sake....how could you not think of him as a person? If he's not a person, then how do you define the word?"
"Well, he's not a 'he'—I know that much," Brisson replied.
"Yes, I know," Yvonne sighed. "He's neither."
"Or both, depending on how you look at it," Brisson said. "Actually we've discovered that they seem to have two different kinds of reproductive cells which we can only speculate are male and female. I have no idea how they would mate if each of them has both, or even if that's the norm, but—"
He stopped, realizing that Yvonne was staring at him in astonishment. "I didn't know Dr. Pierce was studying their reproduction!" she exclaimed. "Is that what he's got under lock and key in the lab? Is that what Ramey referred to in that one briefing when he told Lewis that he didn't have high enough clearance to know about it?"
"I....uh.....well.....this was just something we discovered way back when it was captured," Brisson stammered. "You were removed from active medical duty shortly after that, so perhaps you just missed it."
"I would never have missed that," Yvonne objected. "And I've heard plenty about all of Pierce's other research on John, but I've never heard a peep about this. So what happens when you put those two cells together? I assume you've tried—ooh," she exclaimed suddenly, pressing a hand to her abdomen.
"Are you all right?" Brisson asked in alarm.
"Fine," Yvonne said, breathing hard as another wave of pain washed over her. "I just....excuse me."
"Of course," Brisson said, his face a mask of concern. "Can I do anything for you?"
"No, no, I'm fine," Yvonne said, attempting a smile as she slid off the bench and headed for the tiny bathroom out in the hall that served as a ladies room. The compound had previously been used as a medical facility, so there were men's and women's restrooms nearby. But given that the current ratio of males to females hovered around 100 to 1, all restrooms had been commandeered for men, with what used to be an officer's private bathroom reserved for her. It was only a one-holer, and Yvonne was glad of the privacy as she closed the door behind her, leaning on it for support. The heavy bleeding which had heralded the start of her period last night had eased somewhat, but the sharp, stabbing pains had reappeared. That last one had been particularly severe, and as Yvonne locked the door, another one hit, so severe this time that she literally gasped and slid to her knees as she felt something hot gush out of her.
Trembling, the tile floor cold beneath her legs, Yvonne clutched her abdomen protectively and waited. After a minute or so, she slowly straightened and headed for the toilet, her legs shaking. The sanitary pad she'd put on only about half an hour ago was completely soaked and her underwear soiled, but her uniform had been spared, thank goodness. She hadn't been looking forward to walking back to her quarters in a blood-stained uniform. Discarding the pad, she threaded another through her sanitary belt and washed her underwear in the sink. It felt cold and clammy when she put it back on, but that was the least of her worries. Why was her period so strange this month? She knew plenty of women who had heavy, erratic periods, but she'd never had. Perhaps it was this place, this bizarre situation in which she found herself. But then why hadn't this happened earlier when everything had been so much more unsettled?
Yvonne put herself back together as best she could before she realized something: The pain was gone. Completely gone. Not only that, but the bleeding seemed to have slowed considerably. Thank goodness, she thought, straightening her uniform as she headed back to the mess hall. Whatever it was, it appeared to be over.
"Is everything all right?" Brisson said when she arrived back at their table.
"I'm fine," Yvonne said. "I'm just not feeling very well."
"In what way?" Brisson asked sharply.
"I'm just.....tired, that's all," Yvonne said, taken aback by the forcefulness of his question. "I'm going back to my quarters to rest."
"Before you left, you looked like you were in pain," Brisson continued, eyeing her closely. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm sure," Yvonne said firmly. "Thank you for lunch, Corporal. I enjoyed it. Let's do it again sometime."
She left quickly before he had a chance to protest further. And so she missed seeing Brisson leave the mess hall only moments after she did and retrieve the trash from the little bathroom she'd just vacated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post Chapter 91 next Sunday.
