Honest to God, everybody, I posted this past Sunday. It's gone! Maybe some posts were lost in the kerfuffle. Anyway.....round two..........Joliedreaming: I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! Thanks so much for letting me know, and for taking the time to read it. (I know it's a long one.
)majik: Wow! Leaving feedback on three boards is way above and beyond the call of duty. Thank you!
Misha: I swear on the bible, I posted last Sunday. Cross my heart and hope to die. And when I go on vacation in a couple of weeks, I'll post two parts for the two weeks I'll be gone.
PART SEVENTY
July 11, 1947, 7 a.m.
Roswell Sheriff’s Station
Roswell Sheriff Charles Hemming slammed his coffee cup down so hard on the table that coffee slopped out, spattering the folder he had slammed onto the very same table only moments before. The deputy whose unfortunate job it had been to hand him the folder jumped.
“Damn!” Hemming fumed, furious. “This is all I need! As if I don’t already have a three ring circus going on, now my own deputies are climbing up to the high wire and trying to join the act!”
“Er…yes, sir,” the deputy replied, backing up a step.
Hemming sighed. “Fine way to start a Friday morning. Where is he?”
“In your office, Sheriff.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“Only me,” the deputy replied nervously. “I…I haven’t filed that yet. Didn’t even make a copy. I thought you should see it first.”
“Thank God,” Hemming muttered. “I’m glad at least some of my men have some sense.” He waggled a finger in the deputy’s face. “Not a word to anyone about this, you hear? Not one word!”
“Not a word,” the deputy repeated, wide eyed. He turned to leave, then paused. “Sheriff, perhaps….well….I just wanted to point out….”
Hemming grabbed a napkin and wiped off his dripping coffee cup. “What is it? Spit it out! I haven’t got all day! Especially now,” he grumbled, with a withering look at the folder on the table.
“Well…all that’s been going on is bound to affect us too, Sheriff. We’re only human.”
Sheriff Hemming fixed beady eyes on him, and the deputy momentarily quailed. “I just thought you might want to keep that in mind, sir,” he finished in a rush, then left quickly before the Sheriff could reply.
“Is that so?” Hemming muttered after the rapidly retreating deputy. “We’re paid to not be affected by all this nonsense. We’re supposed to be the sane ones.”
Hemming gave an exasperated snort, grabbed the folder and his coffee, and headed down the hall to his office, slamming the door behind him, making the figure seated in front of his desk flinch. Striding to his chair, he plopped down and tossed the troublesome folder across his desk. “Explain yourself!”
Seated stiffly in the chair, hands massaging the arm rests, Deputy Valenti hesitated. “Explain…I already gave a statement, Sheriff. Which part do you want me to explain?”
“Explain to me why you thought for even one second that I’d buy this cockamamie story!”
Valenti swallowed. “That’s not a ‘story’, sir. That’s the truth. That’s what happened.”
Hemming sat back in his chair. “Deputy, you do realize what’s going on out there, don’t you?”
Valenti cast a puzzled glance in the direction of the window. “No. Why? Did something hap…”
“You know what I mean!” Hemming roared, making Valenti flinch again. “I’ve got a population in a panic! I’ve got an Army that says it had something, then turned around hours later and said it didn’t—after the damage was done. I’ve got phones ringing off the hook with reports of aliens everywhere. As we speak, I can confidently guarantee that at least three dozen people in town are convinced there is an alien ship hanging over their house or crashed in their backyard. A bunch more are convinced they found a piece of such a ship, or, better yet, a piece of an actual alien! There are aliens everywhere, Deputy! They’re in bedrooms, boardrooms, bordellos, and beauty parlors. They’re in dry cleaners, deli’s, department stores, and dentist’s offices. I’ve got reports of aliens coming in from all over Roswell, and now I’m told there’s one more place I need to look—the back seat of your car!”
Valenti was gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were beginning to turn white, but he said nothing.
“It’s my job to ensure the public’s safety,” Hemming continued, rising from his chair and beginning to pace. “It’s my job to keep people from panicking. It’s my job to restore a sense of order and common sense. And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that when my own employees are losing it?”
“Sheriff, I swear, that’s the God’s honest truth,” Valenti objected, pointing to the folder on the desk. “That’s what I saw. That’s what I remember. I…”
“You were found passed out face down on the steering wheel, with eight empty bottles of beer in your car,” Hemming interrupted. “After eight bottles of beer, I’m more than a little surprised you remember anything.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” Valenti retorted, his face flushing. “I said that! I…”
“Yes, I know you said that,” Hemming spat. “You weren’t drinking, and you have no idea where those beer bottles came from. Here’s a thought—how about your refrigerator? That is the brand of beer you drink, you know.”
“Here’s another thought!” Valenti flared, rising to his feet. “Why would I make up a story like that? If I were going to invent a tale, wouldn’t you think I’d at least be smart enough to invent one that people would believe?”
“Normally, I would think so,” Hemming replied soberly. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
The two men stared each other down for a moment before Hemming broke the silence. “Sit down, Jim.”
“Sheriff, I…”
“I said, sit down.”
Reluctantly, Valenti sat, eyes still blazing.
Sinking into his own chair, Hemming drummed his fingers on the arms for a moment before speaking in a slightly calmer tone. “Look, Jim. Pretty soon I’ll start grooming one of you to take over this job when I retire. And I think you’d make an excellent Sheriff. But you can’t pull stunts like this without fessing up. It’s bad enough that one of my deputies was found passed out drunk in his car, and this..”—he indicated the report on the desk— “…this just makes it worse.”
“I was not drinking!” Valenti ground out.
“There’s no need for this!” Hemming protested. “I know it doesn’t look good, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. You weren’t on duty, you weren’t in uniform, you weren’t in a patrol car. You were parked, not driving. It’s mighty weird to go sit out in a car and get sloshed all by yourself, but drinking ain’t illegal. This kind of thing has never happened with you before, and if you’re smart, you’ll never let it happen again. I really don’t think one little incident like this would ruin your chances for the job. There’s no need to go jumping on the alien bandwagon trying to cover your ass.”
Valenti gave a snort of impatience. “Sheriff, would you consider just for one second, just one second, that what I’m saying is true? You know I’m no liar, and you know damned well that was no weather balloon up on that ranch!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Hemming replied sharply. “But I don’t know what it really was, and the Army’s not talking. I do know that they have officially denied that whatever they found was of extraterrestrial origin, and they will be most displeased if a deputy in my employ is going around saying they’re lying.”
“But what if it was a spaceship?” Valenti persisted. “You said it was our job to protect the public safety. We have a right to know what’s really going on. We have to know in order to do our jobs.”
Hemming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Fine. There was an alien in the back seat of your car. So—what did this alien do?”
“It’s all there in the report, sir.”
“Oh, yes. The report.” Hemming reached for the folder and flipped it open. “Let’s see…you say the alien blinked your headlights?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Well, isn’t that special?” Hemming interrupted, his eyes wide in mock surprise. “It turned on your lights all by itself? A three year-old could do that! Very scary stuff, Jim. Very alien.”
“I know that wasn’t especially weird,” Valenti said impatiently, but.....”
“And then the apparently invisible alien took your keys,” Hemming interrupted. “Is that right?”
Valenti’s fingers curled on the arms of the chair. “My keys just vanished! One minute they were in the ignition, next minute they weren’t anywhere inside the car or out.”
“We found your keys in the ignition, Jim.”
“They weren’t there when I saw that thing in the mirror!”
“Great. Now you’re seeing things that aren’t there, and you’re not seeing things that are there,” Hemming deadpanned.
“It took my gun,” Valenti said desperately.
“Your gun was in the glove compartment.”
“But it wasn’t there!” Valenti protested. “I looked!”
“And you didn’t find it after consuming eight bottles of beer?” Hemming said dryly. “Imagine that.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” Valenti shouted, finally losing his temper.
“Then where did the beer bottles come from?” Hemming thundered back.
“I don’t know! It must have put them there!”
“Oh, I see. The alien put them there,” Hemming said sarcastically.
“What about the coyote?” Valenti demanded desperately.
“What about it?” Hemming retorted. “There was a coyote attack here just last weekend. You investigated it yourself. You do remember that, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember it! But this one was acting strangely. It’s.....it’s like it was herding me toward my car.”
Hemming shook his head impatiently. “You said it looked like it might attack you. That’s what wild animals do, Jim. That’s why we call them ‘wild’.”
Valenti shook his head furiously. “But what if it wasn’t really a coyote?”
“What, now the coyote is the alien?” Hemming said in astonishment. “Honestly, this just gets better and better! I suppose I should thank God for small favors that the alien isn’t invisible any more. But why would aliens look like coyotes?”
“Maybe......I don’t know, maybe the alien was controlling a coyote,” Valenti said, exasperated. “Or maybe they can make you think they look like coyotes. It’s the perfect disguise! Coyotes are the only animals that are plentiful around here and known to kill humans.”
“But it didn’t kill you,” Hemming pointed out.
“Exactly!” Valenti said triumphantly. “Why not? A real coyote would have tried!”
“So now the coyote’s an alien because it didn’t kill you? And it put eight empty bottles of beer in your car?” Hemming shook his head in disbelief. “You know, I thought this couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. Why in the name of God would an alien be even the slightest bit interested in framing you with eight empty bottles of beer? And why didn’t it kill you? According to your ‘report’, it certainly had the opportunity.”
“I don’t…..” Valenti stopped suddenly, staring off into space. “That’s it,” he said softly.
Hemming looked blank. “What’s it?”
“It could’ve killed me,” Valenti said slowly, “but it was too smart for that. Killing me would have called attention to itself; that would have left a body, or a missing person. It didn’t want me dead…it just didn’t want me interfering,” he whispered, completely ignoring the Sheriff, who was rolling his eyes. “It disabled my car, disarmed me, kept me from leaving, and finally intervened when I got the car started anyway.” He paused, eyes wide. “It was protecting them.”
“Protecting whom?” Hemming demanded.
Valenti jerked his head up as though he had momentarily forgotten the Sheriff was there. Hemming’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you see?” Valenti said earnestly. “If it can discredit me, it can also discredit any other reports like this, at least up to a point. I’m worth more to it alive and discredited then dead and silent.”
“So now you think the alien is trying to discredit you? Fine. Allow me to be the instrument of its failure.”
Hemming removed the report from the folder and ceremoniously ripped it in half, then again into quarters.
“This never happened,” Hemming announced. “Your fellow deputy never found you slumped over your steering wheel with eight empty bottles of beer in your car. You never went off the deep end insisting you were being chased by aliens with a personal vendetta against you. We never had this conversation. Is that clear?”
Valenti swallowed visibly. “Yes, sir.”
“And furthermore,” Hemming went on, standing up and leaning forward, hands resting on his desk, “this bullshit stops here. Don’t get yourself into situations where you feel you have to act like a dimwit in order to save your ass. I don’t want to hear another word out of you about spaceships, or aliens, or alien coyotes. You copy?”
“Copy,” Valenti echoed, his mouth set in a hard line.
Hemming’s face softened a bit. “You’re a good deputy, Jim. You’d make a good Sheriff. Don’t screw all of that up by acting like those nutcases you’re always going on about, the ones with Jesus in the outhouse and vampires in the bathtub.
“It was Jesus in the bathtub, and vampires in the outhouse.”
“Whatever!” Hemming said sharply. “Just don’t get yourself painted with that same brush. You’re supposed to prevent public panic, not foster it.”
“I’m also supposed to uphold the truth, aren’t I?” Valenti asked angrily. “Whatever truth that may be, even if some people don’t want to hear it? Or even if it makes me look crazy?”
“Jim, sometimes the truth doesn’t want to be found.”
“What if I want to find it anyway?”
“Then you risk ruining your career,” Hemming said firmly. “Look, I won’t be able to pull this off again. You do this again, you go down for it. So whatever you decide to do in your pursuit of the ‘truth’, make sure you keep it completely to yourself.”
“I’ll do that sir,” Valenti replied. He stood up. “Will that be all?”
“It’s been more than enough already,” Hemming said darkly. “Too much, in fact. Take the day off, Jim. Think about what I said.”
Valenti nodded curtly, and left the office.
Sheriff Hemming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Alien coyotes,” he muttered. Jesus. It wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet, and already he needed a drink.
******************************************************
7:10 a.m.
Proctor residence
Yawning, David Proctor headed down the back stairs toward the kitchen. He’d been so exhausted last night that he’d slept soundly, which fortunately meant no more dreams watching Christianson fall from that fence. Unfortunately, the reason he’d slept soundly also meant that he’d slept far too little. He was going to have trouble staying awake today for sure.
“Sleep well?” David asked, as he reached the kitchen where Emily was cooking breakfast.
“Like the dead. No pun intended,” Emily answered. “Is Dee still asleep?”
David nodded. “But someone else isn’t.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where is he?”
Emily gestured toward the back porch. “In there.”
“Is he all right?”
“Seems to be,” Emily answered, stirring the scrambled eggs. “In fact, I’d say he looks better than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe in some ways that enforced deep sleep was good for him.”
“Did he say anything?”
Emily shook her head. “He just appeared, and looked at me, and I pointed, and off he went. Not a word. Didn’t even say ‘thank you’,” she added.
“He probably will later,” David said, staring out the kitchen window at the Brazel’s empty house. “But that wouldn’t be the first thing on his mind. If there was one thing I learned from whatever happened between us last night, it’s that he has one purpose and one purpose only—to keep those babies alive any way he can.”
Emily gave him a skeptical look. “You’re an alien psychologist now, are you?”
“You didn’t see what I saw,” David said soberly. “It was awful.”
Emily stopped feeding bread into the toaster. “What did you see?”
David continued to stare out the window, his eyes glassy, as if he were looking into a different world. “It was a surprise attack….a massacre…..blood everywhere, bodies everywhere. They were pulling the bodies of the people they had guarded behind them, onto the ship, and his hands kept slipping because his person was a mess. Beaten to a bloody pulp. It was…” He paused, as if at a loss for words to describe what he had seen.
Emily pushed the lever on the toaster down. “Was it worse than what you went through?”
“Yes,” David said slowly. “Because it was…personal.”
“Personal?”
“It’s hard to describe,” David said, “but I didn’t just see what he was seeing. I felt what he was feeling. And what he was feeling was a sense of personal loss that I’ve never felt. All the time I was overseas, my little world here was secure. I knew you and Dee were safe, I knew the States probably wouldn’t be touched. But his world fell apart. I’ve never experienced that kind of devastation. I hope I never have to.”
The toaster popped. David watched Emily butter the toast before speaking again. “I think I understand them better now, Em. Imagine if Hitler had come here and taken over our country, and killed the people you loved most. How would you feel?”
A long moment passed before Emily answered. “I would probably go mad,” she said quietly.
“Then let’s congratulate them,” David said, heading toward the back porch. “All they’ve done so far is get on our nerves and break a window. All thing’s considered, I’d say they’re doing pretty well.”
“Wait,” Emily called as he headed out of the room. “I found this in your pants pocket when I was folding laundry this morning.” As she spoke, she pulled something out of the pocket of her robe and held it out for him to see. “It belongs to them, doesn’t it?”
Dangling from her hand was a pendant with the swirling symbol on it, the same pendant that the sheriff’s deputy had found in the trunk of his car the night David had helped them move. “It’s theirs,” David confirmed. “I slipped it into my pocket. Must have forgotten it.” He reached for the necklace, but his hand froze halfway there, tense and rigid.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked in alarm.
“I know this!” David exclaimed. “It’s familiar now!”
Emily looked confused. “I know you know it,” she said a little uncertainly. “You said you put it in your pocket when…”
“That’s not what I mean,” David said, taking the pendant from her and staring at it, wide eyed. “I remember it from all the things I was seeing last night through Jaddo.” He paused. “This was hers.”
“Hers?”
“The Princess. The one Urza guarded. This was hers. It was around her neck when they pulled her body away.”
Emily stared at him. “Remind me to thank him for not showing me the movies,” she said warily. “None of them sound good.”
“There’s more,” David said, screwing his eyes shut. “I can see him giving it to her…putting it around her neck….I know him…his name is…is…” He paused a moment, then opened his eyes. “Rath.”
“Why are you seeing all this now?” Emily asked in a voice that bordered on alarm. “You’re not touching him now. Where is all this coming from?”
David fingered the pendant and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should go talk to him about what happened,” Emily said, concerned. She walked over to the stove and poured two cups of coffee. “Here,” she said, pressing them into David’s hands. “One for each of you. You probably both need it.”
******************************************************
David found Jaddo on the back porch, squatting beside one of the sacs. He had pulled the blanket aside, revealing a dull, cheerless light that contrasted sharply with what David remembered from last night as a brilliant glow.
“Is it just me, or doesn’t that one look very good?” David asked, setting the cup of coffee down on the floor beside Jaddo.
Jaddo glanced up at him, his face a mask of concern. Emily was right—he looked stronger, well rested. “We will likely lose this one,” he said heavily, looking at the dully glowing sac.
“Because of something we did?”asked David, sitting down in a nearby chair.
Jaddo shook his head. “All of the sacs were in incubators that lost power when we crashed. We restored power, but some were irreparably damaged. Now they have been removed prematurely again, and it is inevitable that more will be affected. Still….” His voice trailed off.
“It’s hard to watch,” David finished for him.
Jaddo shot him a wary look. They locked eyes.
“Yes,” Jaddo finally admitted, in a voice that made it clear he was uncertain whether to admit that. “It is very hard to watch.”
David held out the pendant. “Emily found this. It was in the trunk of my car the night I helped you moved the rest of those,” he said, indicating the sacs with a nod of his head. “I put it in my pocket and completely forgot about it.”
Jaddo’s face paled when he saw the pendant. He looked at it a long moment before taking it from David. “Thank you.”
David sipped his coffee. “He gave it to her, didn’t he?”
Jaddo didn’t look at him. He was looking at the pendant, and for a moment, David thought perhaps he hadn’t heard. “Yes,” he finally whispered.
“It was night time,” David said, closing his eyes, as images swam before them. “They were in…some sort of garden, with a pond, or small lake. All three moons were full. It was her birthday present…..”
David paused; he knew that woman’s name. It was right on the tip of his tongue….
“Vilandra.”
David opened his eyes to find Jaddo staring at him uncomfortably. He dropped his eyes when David’s met his.
“How did I know that?” David whispered.
When Jaddo spoke, his voice was hoarse. He sounded like one who was making a confession. “Last night, I formed a telepathic connection with you,” he said, still not looking at David. “It is something all races on my planet can do, to one degree or another. It enables us to share thoughts and experiences with one another.”
“And feelings,” David murmured.
Jaddo shot him a sidelong glance. “And feelings,” he confirmed reluctantly. “It is…it is an intimate form of communication usually reserved for those closest to you. I risked it last night because I was too weak to speak, and had no other way to communicate.”
“ ‘Risked’ it?” David asked.
“I wasn’t certain if you would be capable of receiving what I was sending,” Jaddo explained, still looking supremely uncomfortable. “Normally one can control what thoughts are visible, but in my weakened state, I could not do that. I was unable to edit or organize my thoughts, and given what has been on my mind of late, I knew what whomever I connected with would be likely to see.” He hesitated. “I am certain I could have formed a connection with either your daughter or your mate, but I chose you because you had been a soldier. You were more likely to understand what you would see, to make sense of it.”
“I’m very grateful you didn’t show all that to my daughter,” David admitted.
Jaddo expression hardened. “I would have, if I’d had to.”
“I know you would have,” David said quietly. “So… you have to touch someone to form this… ‘connection’?”
“Usually.”
“So whenever you people touch each other, you form a connection? No one keeps their own thoughts private?”
“Connection is a consensual event,” Jaddo said, and here he looked uncomfortable again. “It can be blocked if one does not consent. Forcing connection against someone’s will is akin to what you would term ‘rape’. I…was not able to seek your consent last night.”
“No, no, it’s all right,” David said hastily, reacting to Jaddo’s apologetic tone even though no apology had actually been offered. “I’m just confused. I remembered that bit about the pendant when Emily showed it to me just now in the kitchen. But we weren’t touching then—what happened?”
“My thoughts were jumbled,” Jaddo said, still looking away. “I wasn’t able to show you only what you needed to know. You saw a great deal, most of which you probably weren’t able to process at the time, but it was still transmitted. In the future, something—like the pendant—may trigger more of the memories you saw.”
David nodded slowly. For some reason he had the nagging feeling that Jaddo wasn’t telling him everything. “So is this going to happen now whenever I touch someone?”
“No. You would need to touch someone capable of—and willing to—form a telepathic connection. You did not form it, you merely received it.”
“Good,” David said with obvious relief. While this “telepathic connection” had served its purpose last night, he was in no hurry to repeat the experience. “So—I assume you want to move these after dark?” he asked, indicating the sacs on the floor.
Jaddo nodded. “Yes. Then I will attempt to free Brivari.”
“Is that wise?” David asked, remembering Private Spade’s warning. “They’ll be waiting for you. They’ll know right where you’re headed.”
“Of course they will,” Jaddo said darkly. “And I know how they will attempt to subdue me, so I am one step ahead of them.”
“He might get out on his own,” David said. “I doubt they’ll be able to hold him once he wakes up.”
Jaddo shot him an appraising look. “You were a soldier. What would you do?”
David hesitated for a moment. “I’d go back,” he admitted. “I’d go back, come hell or high water.” He smiled slightly. Here he was, giving advice that he wouldn’t follow himself.
“Besides,” Jaddo added, “I do not wish to be alone in this strange place.”
But you’re not alone, David thought. Should he tell him about the others of his kind now that Brivari was captured? He had spoken of that to no one but Dee, not even Emily. She’d had enough to swallow lately without being told that there was a war on yet another front. They had heard nothing, seen nothing that would indicate the others were back. And Brivari was no fool—if he suspected Jaddo of treason, he must have his reasons, although David was even more certain now than he had been before that this was not likely to be the case.
No, he finally decided. He would stay out of it. That seemed the wisest course of action.
“Well,” David said. “I need to get going.” He picked up his coffee cup and headed for the kitchen.
“Did your men make it over the fence, David Proctor?”
David stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”
Jaddo looked him directly in the eye. “I said, did your men make it over the fence?”
“What fence?”
“The fence that you and the other human soldiers were heading toward when I first established the connection. You were under attack, and attempting to climb a fence to escape.”
It took David a moment to realize exactly what this meant, and when he did, his heart began to pound.
“This ‘connection’…it goes both ways, doesn’t it?”
Jaddo looked away and nodded. “I was too weak to see much. But I did see the dream you were having.”
For a split second, David could see why Jaddo’s people considered a nonconsensual connection to be rape. He felt invaded, violated. The idea that someone had been leafing through the file cabinets in his own mind was disquieting, to say the least.
“Uh....yeah,” he replied uncertainly, not quite certain how to take this latest revelation. “Most of them made it over the fence.”
“But one didn’t.”
“Christianson,” David said, his throat tightening at the memory. “He was just a kid. Only eighteen.”
“He was captured.”
“He was,” David admitted. “On my watch.”
“I saw him fall,” Jaddo said softly. “I saw what they did to him.”
David closed his eyes. He said nothing.
“You blame yourself for this.”
“Yeah,” David said heavily, “Yeah I do. Just like you blame yourself for that guy who stood all alone at the gate.”
Jaddo’s head whipped around, his eyes burning into David’s, and suddenly David realized he wasn’t the only one feeling violated. This intensely private, intense individual had just made a relative stranger, and a human, no less, privy to some of his most private thoughts. And not just his thoughts, but his regrets. His fears. His embarrassments. His guilt. Everything anyone wouldn’t want anyone else to see.
Jaddo stared at him silently for a long minute before turning his attention back to the sacs without replying. David slipped out the porch door, deciding not to press this particular issue any further. Not yet, anyway. The image of that lone figure standing before the gate behind which an army seethed was powerful, as was the regret that accompanied it. And even though the figure in the image was alien—short, gray, large-headed—the situation was not. Replace the alien with a human, and the result would be instantly recognizable to anyone on planet Earth.
Be it Christianson or whoever had stood at Jaddo’s gate, it appeared guilt was a universal constant.
*************************************************************
Next week.........
......Deputy Valenti remains undeterred, and......
.....one of the rogue shapeshifters finds his way to the Proctor house.
I'll post Part 71 next Sunday.
I want to comment on each section, if that is okay?