It’s been three months since it happened. The worst three months of my entire life. The hole in my life that Bola left behind has been like a gaping, festering wound in the pit of my soul. In response to that pain, I’ve done something I’ve never done, nor would I ever do if my whole life wasn’t upside down. I’ve remained here in Provincetown. I rent a small two-room apartment above the very same French Bistro that Bola and I were accosted by Parker and the Sweepers. I even got a legit, part time off-the-books job sweeping up and maintaining a used occult bookstore. Remaining in a place for more than a few weeks is stupid and very out of character for me. That’s probably why no one has been able to find me, because they all think I’m elsewhere.
I find that the little bit of stability remaining here has offered has helped me deal with my emotional stress. When I’m here, I’m not Jarod the Pretender…I’m Jarod the very normal, very regular working class citizen. I’ve come to love this town. It has accepted and adopted me as it’s own. I’ve even made a few casual friends here and there that I wave to in the street, and even one or two good ones. I have a favorite diner that I go to almost every night, and the entire staff there knows me by name. I’m good friends with one of the waitresses there, Sandra. We’ve been talking regularly on the phone for about a month. She’s been sort of like my therapist, since I haven’t contacted Sydney or The Center since the incident. Sandra was engaged to a woman who had recently killed herself, and we cry to each other on the phone, letting each other in on our pain. It’s just another one of the many small comforts I find here.
I know sooner or later I’ll have to leave, but I’m hoping it’s later rather than sooner.
I’d look over the digital photo he left me quite a lot. Several dozen times a day, in fact. After a while of fiddling with the buttons, I found out that it was in fact a photo album. It had still shots of Bola’s whole life inside it. Pictures of his family, his planet, his culture, it’s amazing. He was born with silver hair, and throughout his life, he’s changed hair color almost as often as I’ve changed clothing. He began training to fight at an early age, maybe about six, and there are many shots of he and his father training together. There’s several shots of his mother…or…male mother…his “Fau-ier”, as he used to call it, painfully pregnant. His little brother, Teth is an adorable kid; he looks almost exactly like the father, and it looks like he idolizes Bola. The two older brothers are also in the shots, but the oldest has a human boyfriend, and in a few shots, they’re playing in some band. The longhaired one with glasses looks to be the quiet bookworm. Bola himself…he was the wild child. He was always active, playing all kinds of odd-looking games and sports, jumping from high ledges, knocking things over, vandalizing property, and generally causing ruckus, even from an early age.
After Teth was born, the Fau-ier got pregnant again. There were pictures of some sort of baby shower. Then, there were several dozen shots of what looked to be a funeral for a very small child. Instead of black, everyone wore gray, and instead of a coffin, they weaved a basket for the baby from straw and flowers, keeping the body wrapped in gray cloth. It looked to be a heart-wrenching ceremony, and Bola and his family were devastated. Bola looked to be maybe 12 or 13 at the time. Teth was just a toddler.
Sometimes I’d spend whole nights staring at those pictures, over and over again, I’d piece together the fragments of Bola’s life. I’d study the people he’d hang out with in school, which was more like a training camp, the way people would always be laughing or kidding around when he was in the picture, the loving, protective way he’d hold his baby brother and the proud expression his father would get every time he’d look at Bola. Many times, I’d cry myself to sleep looking at those pictures, or I’d feel physically ill from the emotional trauma.
Last night was especially bad. I woke up and could swear I smelt his sweet, spicy musk all over the room. Every time I closed my eyes, I could almost see that silken, flawless face smiling at me; those spellbinding, multi-colored eyes glowing lovingly at me. I ended up huddling in the bathroom, vomiting my guts up until almost 6 o’clock. I went to work looking like a zombie this morning and must be on my tenth cup of coffee by now. There’s a small park near a college that I take my lunch to during my midday break. I usually eat my lunch, have some pez, relax under a tree and sometimes even read. Today, someone is sitting in my spot with his face buried in a book. My eyes narrow grumpily as I sit at a nearby, not-nearly-as-comfortable tree and scowl bitterly, removing the sandwich from my bag.
“Oh wow, hey! I remember you.” The voice belonging to the tree thief calls out to me, sounding way to cheerful. I look up and recognize him, instantly wanting to punch his lights out. “You’re the guy who bought your boyfriend those vinyl pants! How is he?”
“Fuck off.” I growl, remembering how much I disliked him then and how much more I dislike him now.
“Whoa, hey, man. No hard feelings. I was really high that day. I didn’t mean to come onto him so strong.” He gets up and sits cross-legged about a foot across from me.
“Go away, I’m not in the mood.” I squint at him with a mouth full of turkey on rye.
“Look, I just wanted to apologize for that day. If you don’t want to accept it, that’s cool.” He begins to get up and I glance back at the stack of large books he’d left by the tree. A Physics textbook, “Advanced Chemistry for Dummies”, “The Iliad” by Homer?? Where the hell would an idiot like him get such an odd taste in reading material? Maybe he wasn’t such an idiot after all. He’s just a kid, why am I being such a jerk?
“Wait…” I call out to him. He stops dead in his tracks and turns back to face me. “Look, if you want to know the truth, my boyfriend is away on business right now and I’ve been a miserable wreck without him. I accept your apology, please accept mine.”
He smiles genuinely at me. “Hey, it’s no problem, man. I’ve been there.” He sits back down next to me. “You know, you look like you could use another cup of coffee, let me but you one.” He holds out his hand in greeting. “I’m Tom.”
“Jarod.” I smile weakly, shaking his hand. “Hell, sure, why not. Nice to meet you, Tom.”
His smile widens. “Likewise, Jarod.”
Instead of the park, Tom takes me out for coffee at a small organic bakery I’ve never been to before. He gets something called a “Mochaccino”.
“So this…mocha…chino…is sort of like a really strong coffee with chocolate syrup in it? That’s ingenious!” I grin, watching him stir a few packets of raw sugar cane into his cup. “And it smells delightful!”
“Yeah…it’s pretty good.” He quirks his brow at me. “And it’s uh…been around for a while now.” He chuckles. “Here, I’ll get you one if you’d like.”
“I’d like that, thank you.”
“I’ll get you a muffin too if you want…you have heard of a muffin, right?”
I laugh. “Yes, I know what a muffin is.” The waitress comes over with my very own Mochachino and places a few brown packets of ‘sugar in the raw’ next to me. I toss the packets in and smile at the crystal-like quality of the sugar. I stir the drink and take a sip. “Mm!! Wow, this is really good!”
“I told you, man. These people rock.” He smiles.
“I like the sugar too. It looks neat.”
“Mm.” Tom swallows a gulp. “Sugar in the raw is better than all that other crap because it’s not processed sugar. Your body will burn it easier, and it’s got less chemicals which is always a good thing.” He grins and shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m one of those preachy health nuts who doesn’t eat meat and cooks with raw herbs and wheat germ.”
“Wheat germ??” I knit my brows distastefully.
“Yeah, but these Mochachinos are my one weakness. Especially the way these people make them. But at least they use organic milk, not rape rack milk.”
“I don’t think I want to know.” I cringe.
“I’ll tell you about all that some other time. For now, enjoy the empty calories and caffeine overdose.” He pats my arm and chuckles.
The hour goes by quickly. Tom turns out to be a really nice guy, even though his friend, (the one who was with him at the clothing shop) pushes pot on him all the time and sometimes gets him to give in. He goes to college and pushes himself really hard to get good grades. I find out that he pretty much runs the clothing store by himself and uses every penny for tuition and books. He even has a side job at the school library to help pay his rent. After a while, he lets it slip that even all that isn’t quite enough and he may have to start going to school part-time in order to find a third job.
“Tom, that’s no way to live.” I frown. “I mean, you’re so young. Isn’t there anyone to help you out? A friend, a roommate, your family…?”
“Oh please, my family doesn’t even know I exist.” He smiles bitterly. “My apartment is too small for a roommate, the only real friend I have is a pothead loser and my only other living relative is an Uncle who’s a total nutcase and a recluse from Dennisport who writes weird science fiction novels and doesn’t believe in owning a telephone.”
“Wow, that is weird.” I put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, at the very least, you made another friend today.” I smile, hoping it will reassure him. He just smiles and downcasts his eyes. A part of me debates offering him a bed at my apartment, despite its small size; it would help his financial troubles. It would be nice to share my place with someone again, maybe it would help distract me from the emotional turmoil I’ve been going through. On the other hand, I barely know him and I don’t know how trustworthy he is. I imagine briefly him inviting his pothead friend over one day while I’m at work and them going through all my DSAs and stealing all the cash I ‘borrowed’ from The Center’s corporate accounts. I quickly decide against it.
“You don’t know how much that means to me, Jarod. I need another friend right now.” He puts his hand on mine and looks into my eyes. His smile fades and I can see the lost, lonely look there, reaching out to me from these cool, dark slate gray depths. It’s that all-too-familiar look that I remember in someone else’s eyes, the same eyes that haunt my dreams every time I lie down to sleep. This time, there’s something different about the look; it seems suggestive, meaningful, almost…hungry.
I suddenly knit my brows and pull my hand away, adverting my eyes. “Well, I work over at Mephistopheles Bookstore, you can come in and talk to me anytime.” I blurt out nervously, crossing my arms across my stomach. He grins and tilts his head, his expression becoming somewhat playful.
“Am I making you nervous?”
“No, I just have to get back to work, but thanks for the coffee.” I lift my cup a little and smile as I exit as calmly as possible. I get down the block and turn the corner before I exhale loudly, glancing back, hoping he didn’t follow me out. He somehow had made me feel uncomfortable and self-conscious. I don’t know how or why, but I know I don’t particularly like it.
When I get back to the bookstore, I take a broom and begin sweeping the outside sidewalk. My boss, a petite, bald lesbian of Hispanic persuasion with more piercings than a pincushion comes out to see if I’m alright. She’s generally a nice woman, but can be hard and demanding at times.
“Hey, Jarod. You look like shit today, what happened to you?” She leans on the front glass and lights a cigarette, watching me sweep with loads of nervous energy.
“I’m just fine. Had a bad night, that’s all.” I keep sweeping, not even making eye contact with her. She smirks knowingly, not believing a word of what I’d just said. I don’t blame her, I wouldn’t believe me either.
“C’mon, Jarod. Give me the broom. Go home early and get some sleep, you look like you could use it.” She holds her hand out, waiting for me to hand the broom over. I finally stop and glance up at her. Her expression grows sorrowful and guilt-ridden. “Jesus, man, look at you, you look like you’re about to cry.”
“Actually, I think the Mochaccino I had at lunch is making my stomach upset, but please don’t make me go home, Elise, I need to be distracted right now.”
She sighs. “Alright, but don’t you break down on me, okay? All you need to do is say the word and you can go home.”
“Thanks, Elise.” I begin sweeping again, almost maniacally. She frowns at me, puts her cigarette out on the window ledge and tosses it into the standing ashtray right outside the front door. I let out a sigh and keep sweeping.
The rest of the day drags by. I, however, keep going strong until well after the store closes. I don’t know where all this extra energy is coming from, but in a way, I’m thankful for it. By the time everyone goes home, I offer to stay overnight and really give the place a good once over. I’ve done it in the past and I even have my own set of keys, but tonight, Elise declines, ordering me to go home. So I do.
I stop by my usual haunt and sit down for a nice, quiet meal. Sandra makes her way over, bends down and hugs me. “Oh my gawd, Jerry, you look like hell warmed over. What’s the matter, you had a bad night?” Jerry is her little nickname for me.
“Unusually bad.” I rub my face wearily.
“You could have called me. I was up all night too.” She sighs and sits down across from me. “Still no word?” Her voice lowers significantly. I just shake my head no.
“I doubt I’ll ever seen him again.” My voice cracks, and I bite my lip to keep from bursting into tears.
“Hey, you can’t think like that. Bola loves you, he’ll come back to you. Just have faith.” She grabs my arm and squeezes.
“It’s been three months, Sandra. Three whole months…it’s getting harder and harder.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” She takes my hand and squeezes it tight. Her long, curly burgundy hair falls into her bright, caring, sympathetic blue eyes. She’s got one of these plump, round faces that reminds me of a child’s face. I think that’s one of the reasons I’m so comfortable around her, because she looks so sweet and harmless. In a way, she’s been like a big sister to me throughout all of this. I even told her the whole story with Bola, including the parts she probably shouldn’t know. At first, she didn’t believe me, but then I showed her the picture album. There wasn’t much room for debate after that.
“I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t even know if he’s even still alive.”
“Jerry, stop it, now.” She frowns sternly. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You’re only going to get sicker if you keep dwelling on negative thoughts. He’s fine, I’m sure.”
“I can’t help it.” I pause. “Oh, I wanted to tell you, some guy hit on me today on my lunch break.”
She giggles. “Was he cute?”
“Sandra!” I can’t help but laugh a little bit at the absurdity of the question.
She points at me. “Ha. Made ya’ smile.”
I laugh a little more. She’s always been good at making me laugh, no matter how miserable I get. “Yeah, I guess he was kinda cute…”
“Look, I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out tonight, but my boss needs someone to work a double shift.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll find something to do.”
“How’s that guy you told me about?”
“What guy?”
“You know, the one you said you’d call sometimes to talk to…your therapist or something?”
“Oh, Sydney? I haven’t called him in months. Since…y’know.”
“Well, maybe he’s as worried about you right now as you are about Bola.” She grins.
It suddenly hits me…she’s absolutely right. In fact, she inspired a maelstrom of thoughts to swirl around in my head in a matter of moments. Sydney is an older doctor there. The Center doesn’t really have much of a need for him at this point with all the new blood coming in. In fact, with all the little dirty secrets he’s managed to find out, the only real reason he was still alive is because there was an emotional umbilical between he and I, and without him there, they’d never find me. He’s always told Raines and Mr. Parker that the day they really pissed me off would be the day I disappear forever. I haven’t been in touch in three months, they might assume I’ve already vanished. That means they’d have no further use for Sydney.
My eyes dart open wide at this realization. I’d been so wrapped up in my own despair that I had completely forgotten what a bunch of bastards Sydney had to work around every day. “Oh god, Sandra, you’re right…I have to call him- - -right now!” I get up and run out the door as fast as I can, hoping I wasn’t too late.
__
One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Shit, Sydney usually picks up by now. Four rings. Goddammit. I can feel my heart beat in my throat and my hands tingle and sweat.
“Y-yeah, Broots.” Someone finally answers. Broots, the resident computer hacker geek and one of Sydney’s most trusted allies. I’ve only seen him in person once or twice.
“Broots, I need to talk to Sydney. Put him on.” I demand, sounding a lot more panicked than I mean to.
He pauses. “Oh god, Jarod, where the hell have you been??” His voice nosedives into a harsh whisper. “Syd’s been worried SICK about you!”
“Please tell me he’s okay.”
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you mean…”
I sigh in relief. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Jarod, he may be alive, but he’s far from okay. What happened to you? Where are you?”
“Broots, listen to me. I need you to put him on.”
“Can’t…they’re giving him the Third Degree right now on sub-level 16. They’re trying to debate his usefulness to The Center. Jarod, he and I need to speak to you about something mega-important, but I wouldn’t dare discuss it over the phone. Please, please tell me where you are, I swear to God, I won’t tell anyone but Sydney.”
“You know I can’t do that, Broots.”
“Please, Jarod, if you only knew how important this is…”
I sigh, gauging the raw desperation, the drop-dead seriousness in his tone of voice. I had never heard him like this. He begins to say something else and the phone gets yanked away from him.
“Jarod??” Miss Parker cries out, almost as desperately into the phone.
“Yeah, Parker, it’s me. What the hell is going on over there??”
“Jarod, listen to me. I don’t care where you’ve been, I don’t care where you are. We need to talk today, right now. Meet me at the cemetery by my mother’s grave. A.S.A.P.”
“On one condition.” I clear my throat. “Somebody get down to SL-16 and tell Raines and your Father that I called, wanting to speak to Sydney, and that I’ll call again tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock sharp expecting him to be there. Got it?”
“Yes, of course. Just meet me.” I don’t respond, I just sigh loudly into the phone. “Jarod, you bastard, don’t make me beg!”
“Alright, alright, it will take me a while, but I’ll be there.”
“Good. Thank you.”
__
I rent a car and drive down there quickly, trying not to break too many laws doing it. I arrive outside the cemetery and glance around for any stray black sedans that might be watching. The only car I see loitering around is hers. I see Miss Parker herself standing by her mother’s headstone with her back towards me. The first thing I notice that’s out of sorts is the distinct lack of a cigarette in her hand. The second thing I notice is that she’s pulling her long wool coat closed, looking more self-conscious than I’ve ever seen her. Small flurries fall and fly around the cemetery adding to the thin blanket of snow already there. It’s a lot colder here than back home. Huh. Home. God, it feels good to say that.
“Miss Parker?” I softly announce my presence, walking up to her. She halfway turns to glance at me, jumping with a start.
“Shit.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. What the hell is going on? Talk to me.” She motions for me to come closer, still trying to keep as much of her back to me as possible. I come up right behind her, and only then does she fully face me, grab my jaw and hold it up, making sure I’m glaring at her right into her eyes.
“Jarod, look at me. Please, just keep quiet and keep looking ahead, okay.”
“Okay.” I mumble, utterly stunned.
“My father is a bastard. We all know that, right?”
“Yes.” I breathe.
Tears well up in that pair of already frightened, confused blue-gray pools. “Please don’t freak out, but I have to tell you, it’s about Bola.”
“Bola?? What about him, did you…”
“Listen to me! Focus on my face, you understand??” She cries out loudly, the warm tears that she’s been trying to hold back so desperately fall from her eyes and down her flushed cheeks. I nod slightly, despite her strong grip on my jaw. “While Bola was being held a prisoner at The Center, in between the gruesome tests they did to him, Raines and my father took blood from him.”
“I know about that already.”
“No, just listen to me.” She sniffles harshly. “They didn’t just take blood, okay?? They took a lot more from him than that.” She begins sobbing a little.
My eyes are as wide as saucers, almost getting her meaning, but not quite. “What are you talking about? What did they take?”
“But it’s only been…” I can’t help but stare at her round belly, too prominent to have only been three months into her pregnancy.
“Three months? I know, I’m in my second fucking trimester already.” She sniffles. “This kid is growing fast, Jarod. They say I’m due in another three months. It must be because it’s not fully human.”
I walk up to her and put both hands on her swollen stomach. “What…are you going to do?” I manage to choke out.
“I’m going to carry it until the sixth month, then I want you to meet me here and I want you to take me somewhere safe and deliver the baby.” She begins to calm down, getting a little more coherent. “And then I want you to take it away and disappear off the face of the fucking planet.” She grabs one of my hands and holds it tight. I lace my fingers with hers and give her a sorrowful look.
“Oh God, Miss Parker, I am so sorry…”
“Don’t be. Just promise me you’ll keep my baby safe from those monsters.”
“What about Sydney? If I disappear, The Center will have him killed. And what about you? Your father won’t be too pleased you gave away his first grandchild to me.”
“You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t a baby to them, it’s something new to play with. They’ll probably either dissect it or make it into their perfect little programmed Assassin. You have to promise me you’ll never let them touch my baby. Promise me!”
“Only if you and Sydney come with me. We can be a family, it’ll be great.”
“I can’t leave, Jarod.” Her posture suddenly seems resigned. Her voice is soft and regretful. “If I hurt The Center’s plans and then just vanish, my father will ultimately pay the consequences. Sydney…I don’t know, he might be able to get away with it…maybe faking his own death or something. But I can’t leave, Jarod. I just can’t.”
“Listen to me…I grew up haunted by the few faint memories I had of my mother. I know what it’s like to never know the woman who birthed you. This child will know its mother, Miss Parker. That I promise you.”
“Oh, Jarod…” She shuts her eyes and embraces me tightly. I hug back. “I’m so scared, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” She sobs on my shoulder.
“I know…I’ve been there.” I mumble soothingly. My lips move next to her ear and I whisper very softly. “I still have your old cell phone. When it’s time, call me.” She sniffles and nods.
“Thank you.” She breathes, holding the side of my face. “Thank you so much.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“I don’t know, I’ll make up some lie about having the baby aborted, or having a miscarriage or something. Don’t worry about it.”
“They won’t believe you. Miss Parker, they’ll torture you!” I knit my brows, my voice becoming harsh and concerned at the same time.
“Look, we’ll talk about this later. Right now, you have to get out of here.” She pulls me away from her and slides something into my hand. It’s a DSA.
I look down at it questioningly. “What is this?”
“It’s a gift from Angelo. It’ll give you some insight into what they put poor Bola through. He stole it from Raines’ office and gave it straight to Broots. We watched it, Jarod. It’s fucking awful. Raines is a sick son of a bitch.” She turns away in disgust, as if the images were fresh in her mind. “Take it and go. If they figure out where I went, I don’t want them to find you too. Now get out of here.” She shoves me off.
I kiss her on the cheek and grab her hand for one last moment. “Thank you, Miss Parker, take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, you too.” She smiles weakly, but sincerely. I smile back, let go of her and take off into the darkness and increasing snowfall.
__
“Hey, Syd. Have you heard anything yet?”
I sigh as Broots follows me down the hallway, whispering to me about Jarod. “No.” I answer flatly, more than a little annoyed. That has been his question every single day for the past three months. And every single day for the past three months, the answer has remained the same: no. Truth be told, I was beginning to get physically ill with worry. I’ve been telling Mr. Parker and Dr. Raines for years that Jarod was a sensitive person, and the day that they pushed him too far would be the day he’d drop off the face of the Earth. However, I’m not so convinced he’s disappeared forever. I just think Bola’s disappearance has left Jarod feeling empty and hollow, and he needs time to adjust to the emotional pain. I’ve been hoping that one day soon, he’d call me and I could help him try to deal with that pain.
“Syd, I need to talk to you.” Broots’ whispers hush considerably, even though there were no people around at all. “Angelo came to my work station this morning and gave me a DSA. He told me it was about Bola.”
“What?” I spin around to face him, grabbing his shoulders. “Have you viewed it?”
“No, I wanted to wait for you and Miss Parker.”
“Good, Broots, very good. Thank you.” I grab him by the arm with an excited energy I haven’t exhibited in quite a while. “Let’s go find her.”
As it would turn out, she’s having another one of her check-ups. Ever since she found out she’d been unwillingly impregnated with Bola’s semen, she’s harbored immense, yet understandable distrust towards everyone in the Center except Broots, Angelo, Sam and myself. She usually doesn’t let anyone besides me give her check-ups, but today, I assume Dr. Raines was a little more insistent than usual. As I walk up to the glass, I see her sitting on the table with her legs dangling. She has a gun in her hand, but not pointed directly at him. Broots shakes his head and inhales deeply.
“I don’t know why she’s even in there with that creep.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Parker can take care of herself.” I smile, tapping lightly on the glass. She looks at me and holds up a finger. Raines glances over at me and sneers in contempt. It’s no secret Raines has an unnatural interest in Miss Parker, but being that it’s now common knowledge around The Center what he recently did to her, it was safe to assume he has more of a shot wheeling his oxygen tank into a boxing ring and winning a match against Mike Tyson.
It isn’t long until she comes out of the office, holstering the gun and giving Raines a hateful glare. He merely smiles at her and waves goodbye. She walks by me and I tap her on the shoulder, about to tell her about the DSA. “I need a fucking shower.” She growls.
“Wait, Miss Parker, we need to talk.”
She stops and gives me a sarcastic, wide-eyed ‘oh really’ look that I’ve come to associate with her. “About what?”
“Angelo found this in Raines’ office.” I flash her the DSA. “He gave it to Broots this morning. It’s about Bola.”
“What’s on it?” Her interest is obviously piqued.
“We haven’t watched it yet. We were waiting for you.”
She smiles almost genuinely. “How thoughtful of you.” She takes my arm. “Let’s go.” We make our way to Broots’ underground office and pop in the disk.
“Subject seems to have a severe weakness toward cold,” Raines states coolly. “Test is to conclude the minimum temperature subject can withstand before passing out and/or freeze. Thus far, subject has endured almost one and a half minutes exposed to a temperature of fifteen degrees feirenhaight.”
Bola’s crazed, muffled voice curses, screams and shouts and he vainly scrapes and bangs on the door. His skin has turned an unhealthy shade of light brown. The blue-tinted tears on his face begin to freeze. His screams turn into hysterical sobbing, and his voice becomes less cursing, and more pleading.
“Oh God, this is disgusting.” Parker sneers, but like all of us, as grotesque as it may be, you have no choice but to look on.
At one point, Bola actually inflicts a wound on himself so that he could spread the warm blood on his body. I turn away for a few moments at this point, trying to keep my gag reflex in check. I turn back when the screaming stops.
“Where’d he go?” Broots exhales, sitting on the edge of his seat. Looking into the glass, Bola seems to have just disappeared. Suddenly, his voice returns in the form of a gruff, elongated yell. Metallic snapping and buckling is heard and then a sudden snap. The room is flooded with thick, white gas.
“RrrRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!!!” Bola screams at the top of his lungs as he thrusts a large metal pipe straight into the small window. The whole window spiders and he thrusts it again, sending the pipe straight through, showering Raines and the shocked onlookers with thousands of tiny fragments of glass. The smoke pours out into the room and we barely see Bola’s long arm come through the opening and unhinge the door blindly while the others cough and gag on the dense smoke.
The meat locker door swings open violently and Bola comes stumbling out, heading straight for Raines. We hear Raines gasp in horror as Bola ferociously grabs his collar with both hands, teeth gritted, huge fangs bared. Bola shakes and shudders, finally starting to feel the effects of his extensive torture, his eyes gloss over and he falls at Raines’ feet, clawing straight through his shirt on the way down.
We hear the heavy thump of Bola hitting the floor and suddenly, Sweepers come in and ventilate the room. They drag Bola off and Raines orders them to take him straight into the next test. And that’s where the disk ends.
We all sit there, unable to speak, barely able to breathe.
“Oh, good God, that poor little guy.” Broots quivers his lip. I massage my temples and Miss Parker lights up a cigarette. Since she found out she was pregnant, she only smokes them halfway down, as per my orders.
“That ‘poor little guy’ utterly destroyed a meat locker, slaughtered two armed Sweepers and severely wounded a Cleaner with his bare hands. Bola was quite a piece of work.” Miss Parker puts her hand over her stomach. “I wonder, are they all that strong?”
“Probably, but Bola looked like he was trained to fight like that. Probably from an early age.” I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Will this little guy be that strong?” She asks more to herself than me. “I mean, when it kicks, will its feet burst through my uterus wall or something?”
I chuckle lightly. “Don’t be silly, Miss Parker. You’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, you’re not carrying Superman’s kid or anything.” Broots adds jokingly. He gets an irritated glare from her and immediately shuts up.
There’s a long, uneasy moment of silence after that where we all just sit there and stare vacantly ahead.
“Syd?”
“Yes, Miss Parker?”
“Has there been any word from Jarod yet?” She turns to face me. I merely sigh and stroke my temples, beginning to feel a migraine coming on.
__
A little later in the day, I’m sitting idle in my office, looking over some of the older notes from Jarod’s file, including what’s in the little storage box I keep hidden in my desk. I can’t help but shed a few tears, wondering if I’ll ever hear from Jarod again, or if he’s even alright. I can almost feel how torn up he is inside over the loss of Bola, and I’d do anything to be there for him. My thoughts are cut short by sudden soft, maniacal giggling coming from the air duct grate.
Angelo. I leap from my seat, wipe my damp face with a sleeve and make my way over to him. He kneels there and smiles at me. “Sss…Sydney. Sad.” He frowns sorrowfully. I nod and display a soft grin, touching the grate. He touches my hand with his fingertips almost soothingly. “Sydney miss Jarod.” He states. “Angelo miss Jarod too.”
“I know, Angelo. I think we all do.”
“Mister Raines and Daddy Parker don’t miss Jarod.” His features take on an angry, frustrated quality. “They hate Jarod. They’re mad at Sydney. Wanna take him downstairs tonight and interrogate him. They’re real mad at Sydney.” He nods slowly, his washed out blue eyes wide with emotion.
“Thank you for the warning.” I glance around quietly. I slip my cell phone from my breast pocket and lift the grate a little to hand it to him. “Take this and keep it safe. If Jarod calls, tell him what’s been going on. Heaven knows you know what’s been happening here better than any of us.” He takes it and nods, sliding the grate back into place. “And please, Angelo, be careful.” I give him a concerned, pleading look. “We’ve all been on edge lately and I want you to remain under everyone’s radar.”
He begins another one of his inane giggling fits and takes off down the duct without another word. I let out a resigned sigh and sit back down at my desk. I glare vacantly at the pictures, disks, drawings and file folders spread randomly in front of me. I stroke my chin in deep thought. “Where could Jarod be?” I mumble aloud, used to speaking to recorders and hidden video cameras. “I’ve spent half my life teaching him, training him and grooming him to become the perfect chameleon, able to become anyone or anything. It’s mind boggling to think how many countless exercises we’ve been through where I’ve asked him to become somebody else and retrace their footsteps. Now, ironically, it’s my turn. So where would a man with a broken heart go for solace?” I get up and pace around my office restlessly.
“Well, let’s examine he and Bola’s relationship for a moment.” I take a pen from my breast pocket and drum it against my hand absently as I pace. “They met…in Provincetown…I’m assuming, and stayed there for the duration of their relationship. It’s only fair to guess that if we hadn’t caught up to them, they’d still be there.” The hand holding the pen snaps up. “But,” I turn sharply, glaring at my desk. “They had been on their way somewhere…Boston, I think. I checked there three months ago and came up with nothing.”
“Not in Boston.” Angelo’s voice chuckles at me, watching me through the air duct grate again. “Phone is safe.” He adds.
“Ah, you’re finally ready to empath Jarod again? You’ve conveniently sent us on wild goose chases for the past three months.” I chuckle. “You were protecting him, weren’t you?” He nods and gives me a smitten, yet wicked wide-eyed grin. “It’s alright, Angelo. You did the right thing. I’m not angry.”
“Angelo knows that, but Jarod…still hurting so bad.” He cringes and hugs himself tightly. “Jarod…waits. Jarod still waiting. Hopes Bola comes back to him.”
I gasp and Angelo’s gaze snaps up at me, startled. “Oh dear God, that’s it!” I grip my head in an almost dizzying revelation. “I know where Jarod is…and probably has been all this time!” Angelo just smiles slightly and recoils, moving off slowly back into the safety of the tunnels.
I quickly hide my storage box and anything else of sedimental importance. I search my office about four or five times for bugs or hidden cameras. I do this every so often just to be sure. The only tap I know is there is the one on my office phone. That’s why I own a cell phone. After I get my thoughts and affairs in order, I sit at my desk and wait patiently. It isn’t too much later that Mr. Parker and about a half dozen Sweepers burst into my office and personally escort me down to Sub-Level-16 for what would no doubt be an all-night verbal reaming. I, however, would be smiling on the inside the entire time.
__
Ten minutes to nine. Those bastards have ten minutes to sit Sydney down, fix his tie, brush off his shoulders, get him a glass of water and make sure he sounds fine and dandy before he gets on that phone. Because if there is so much as the slightest inkling in his voice that would lead me for a moment to believe that he’s been harmed in any way, those sons of bitches will be wishing they were never frigging born.
I know for a fact that he’ll be surrounded by The Center’s top operatives, watching his every move and taping his every word. I also know my call will be traced, in fact, I’m counting on it. After I sat down and viewed that DSA Parker gave me, I ditched the notion of getting a wink of sleep, being too busy balling my eyes out over what they put my poor Bola through. I’ve been working overnight rerouting The Center’s systems and crossing their phone lines. Let’s just say that they’re in for a nasty little surprise, courtesy of Moi. Something Sydney should get quite a kick out of.
When it’s time, I make my phone call. Sydney picks up on the first ring.
“Jarod?” He sounds excited, edgy.
“Hello, Sydney. How are you?”
“Never been better. I’m glad to hear from you again.” His words are deliberate and measured. I can almost hear them breathing down his neck. “How are you feeling?”
“Lousy. Pissed off. By the way, tell Raines, Lyle and Daddy Parker I said ‘hi’.”
He chuckles softly. “You are planning to remain in touch, aren’t you?”
“We’ll see.” I pause. “Hmm…what has it been, twenty-five seconds? You only need to keep me talking for another thirty.”
“I can’t keep anything from you, Jarod.” I can hear the smile clearly evident in his gruff, almost raspy voice. He sounds like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Can you do me a favor, Sydney?”
“Sure, what is it you need?"
“Put Raines on.” My tone suddenly goes ice cold and bitter. He pauses for a moment and I hear the phone passing hands.
I hear his heavy breath, then that familiar dark, gritty voice. “This is Raines.”
“I won’t insult your intelligence, doctor. You’ve probably figured out by now that Bola was far more to me than a good friend. But let me tell you something. You people have put me through hell. You kidnapped me, killed my brother, kept me seperated from my parents, psychologically tortured and hunted me and nearly everyone I've ever cared about, and I kept running, I took it. But then you had to go and mess with Bola, and I’m telling you that you’ll all be answering for that for the rest of your miserable little lives.” I pause for a moment and display a defiant grin. “Five seconds until you have me, Mister Raines. I want you all to count down now. Three…two…one.”
“What the hell??” I hear the sudden, blind panic in his voice, and it’s just the beginning of my satisfying revenge. “Jarod, what the hell did you do??”
“Oh, I just reworked your system a little bit.” I smile cockily. “The exact second your phone tap clicked, it sent an electrical surge through all your fuse boxes, even the back-up ones. You’d better run down and check them. Some might even be on fire as we speak. Hell, you might even have to evacuate the building.” I stop talking when I hear the fire alarms go off and Sydney let out a loud, amused belly laugh in the background.
“You might want to warn people about the danger of fire. While your talking to me, people could be getting hurt. Oh wait, that would require you to give a damn about anyone besides yourself.” I suddenly yell into the phone viciously. “The only thing you’re angry about is how I keep showing you people up! Well, guess what, Dr. Wheezy, this ends one way or the other, very soon. I refuse to let you clowns haunt me for the rest of my life!”
“There’s an easy way for you to end this, Jarod. Come back to us.” His tone suddenly goes calm and cold as summer in Antarctica.
“Never, you filthy, slimy piece of shit.” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I’d see you all dead first.” And with that, I slam the phone down violently. A bright light of pure, unadulterated rage overtakes me to the point where my whole body is shaking and tears of fury streak down my flushed cheeks. How dare he…how fucking dare he. He has no idea what I’m capable of, but he’s well on his way to finding out. Bastards, all of them.
After a while of calming down, I realize what I’d said to Raines could easily be taken as a physical threat. In reality, as much as that dark, angry and bitter part of me would love to see him dead for all the horrible things he’s put everyone through, especially my baby Bola, I doubt I could actually kill him. Sydney, Miss Parker and Broots know that as well as I do, but Raines doesn’t, and that suits me just fine. Let the bald man sweat a little. Maybe he’ll get so overworked with panic, his Emphysema will kick in and he’ll croak on his own, but I’m not that lucky.
I walk over to my new Cappuccino machine sitting on my kitchen counter and whip myself up a nice big cup, pouring in a whole lot of chocolate syrup, then, some sugar in the raw I’d gotten from a bulk store. I’d found that eating the sugar plain was kind of like eating sugar cane without the stick. I sit and relax for a good long while before heading off to work. I need to calm down, and all this damn caffeine isn’t going to help me any. (But it tastes so good!) I sit on my small couch and put my feet up, taking a series of slow, deep breaths. Somehow, letting those assholes really have it has proved to be therapeutic. I’ve been fantasizing about telling Dr. Raines off for years. That little stint of mine utterly destroyed all major power sources in every Center building for good. They’d be living on back-up generators for at least another 24 hours, and it’s gonna cost them a couple thousand to get all of it fixed, providing there was no extensive burn damage to the buildings themselves. That thought puts a smile on my face. I walk to work a little late with another cup in my hands, and for the first time in three months, I look up and notice that the sun is shining.
“Good morning, Jarod!” One of my usual customers waves to me while passing me on the street, and I give him a bright, cheerful smile in return.
“It sure is, Pete. It sure is.” I wave as I walk by.
__
“Well now!” Elise, my boss cackles, watching me sweep outside the store whistling a happy tune. “I think I could get to like this side of you, Jarod.” She winks at me and I laugh cheerfully in return. “Okay, spill it. What’s his name?”
“No, no, it’s nothing like that…” I shake my head, still smiling. She puts her cigarette out on the window and tosses it into the ashtray.
“So, why the emotional make-over?”
“I dunno, I guess I just woke up on the right side of the bed this morning for once.”
“Either that or the Mochaccinos you’re binging on lately are laced with Prozac.” She laughs a little, fixing the collar of my jacket. “But hey, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. You’re looking worlds better than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Thanks!” I shove another piece of Pez in my mouth and continue working. She merely smiles and shakes her head. “You can take your break in twenty, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss.” I salute jokingly. She laughs and walks back inside. In twenty minutes, I finish up and take my break. Ironically enough, I meet Tom in the park again.
“I got you a present.” He grins, walking up to me, holding out a brown paper bag.
“Aw, you didn’t have to.” I open the bag and see a Pez dispenser. One I didn’t have. “Wow, I don’t have this one, thanks!” I shake his hand excitedly.
He laughs, his hand limp in mine. “Hey, whoa, buddy, calm down. It’s no problem, I notice you had a fetish for those things.” He points to it, his smile widening. “It’s Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street. I thought you could relate.” He shrugs.
“Sesame Street?” I repeat, immediately opening the package.
“Oh, c’mon, man. Everybody knows Sesame Street. ‘Sunny days…sweepin’ the…clouds away! On my way, to where the air is sweet…” He dances around, singing. “‘Can ‘ya tell me how to get…how to get to Sesame Street?’”
I laugh, clap and cheer. “That’s cute, Tom, but no, I’ve never heard that song. Who’s Oscar and why is he such a grouch?”
He glares at me in disbelief. “Are you for real? Where did you grow up, man? Bosnia?”
“No, but you aren’t the first person to ask me that.”
“Its a kid’s T.V. show…I have old tapes of it at my place, you’re more than welcome to come over and watch them with me. Here…” He scribbles his address on the brown paper bag. “Come over anytime. If I’m in, I’ll introduce you to the show, it’s cool.”
I smile, holding up the now fully loaded Pez dispenser. “I just might take you up on that, Tom.” I point at him with a grin. He smiles and nods. We spend the rest of my break resting up against the tree. I help him study for a Physics test he has tomorrow morning. By the time I leave, he tells me he feels like he actually knows what he’s talking about.
“Man, you’re pretty good at tutoring. You ever thought of becoming a teacher?”
I can’t help but grin. “Oh, once or twice.”
__
After I return to work, I suddenly get this strange feeling, like I’m being watched. I keep looking around but I see no one. “Jarod,” My boss calls out to me from the back room. “Could you sweep up outside? I know you just did it, but some dick cheese just came by and pretty much emptied his pockets on the sidewalk out there. Fuckin’ messy tourists. No respect, I swear to God.”
I sigh, picking up the broom again. I make my way out there and begin sweeping up the assorted candy wrappers, crumbled up pieces of paper and pocket lint from the otherwise clean pavement. It’s hard to believe one person would have the nerve to do all this. I walk over to the wastebasket out there and shovel it all in. Out of nowhere, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
“Please don’t run.” I feel a strong hand grip my arm. The voice is unmistakable. I spin around to gawk at Sydney wide-eyed and frightened. Panic lumped in my throat, preventing me from calling for help. “Jarod, relax. It’s just me.”
“It’s never just you, Sydney…” My head and eyes dart around frantically, trying to locate the others, probably hiding behind parked cars or buildings or something. My mind begins racing with things I could have possibly done wrong to give my location away…
“Jarod!” His sudden forceful tone makes me snap out of my hysterical stupor. “Listen to me! We need to go somewhere to talk. Right now.”
I swallow hard. “Let go of me.” He pauses. “I said let go of me!” He instantly pulls his hand away.
“Hey!” My boss comes storming out of the shop, along with two of my co-workers. “Is this guy bothering you, Jarod?” She looks like she wants to kick Sydney in the teeth.
I glare at him angrily. He frowns. I sigh heavily and narrow my eyes at him. “Look, Madam, I just need to speak with Jarod for a few moments.”
“You…ain’t you the guy who came all up in here and threw yo’ shit all over the pavement? I should’a had you sweep it up!”
“Elise…” I put my hand up. “It’s okay. Can I please just have five minutes?”
“Alright…but if he touches you again, you come see me.” She points to herself and gives Sydney one last hateful glare. He waves at me to come across the street. I reluctantly follow him, still convinced there was a trap here somewhere.
“Jarod, listen to me very carefully.” He nudges me into a side alley and whispers quietly.
“How did you find me, Sydney?” I interrupt him.
“That’s not important now. What’s important is that Raines and Mr. Parker are through playing games with you. They’re sending out The Center’s best Cleaners to look for you. Even Mr. Lyle and Mr. Cox are in on this. They even have the Triumvirate involved. They want to end this once and for all. I’m here to tell you to get as far away from here as you can.”
“No. I won’t go. I started a brand new life for myself here, Sydney, and I refuse to leave it behind. When Bola comes back, this is the only place he knows to look, and I have to be here when that happens, Sydney, I just have to.” My eyes well up with tears from just saying Bola’s name.
Sydney sighs regretfully. “I’m so terribly sorry, Jarod, but you have to accept the possibility that Bola won’t be coming back.”
“No, Sydney, he’ll be here, he loves me!” I burst into tears and cradle my face tight. Sydney wraps his arms around me and rubs my back as I sob uncontrollably. After a while of sobbing, I manage to choke out, “Let them come.”
“Jarod,” His tone is soft and soothing, yet still holding that note of urgency. “They no longer want to capture you. They’re coming to assassinate you.”
I swallow, trying to get rid of the nervous lump in my throat. “I’m tired of running, Sydney. The stability that I’ve found here holds a comfort the likes of which I’ve never known, and I won’t give it up without a fight.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him shut his eyes tight. “Running is better than dying, especially by the hands of The Center. You’re far better than that and you deserve a far happier fate. I’m begging you, Jarod. Go somewhere far and hide.”
“No, I refuse.”
“Jarod,” He pulls me at arms length, glaring sternly into my eyes. “If I have to, I’ll drug you and keep you hidden myself.”
I blink at him several times, my teary eyes wide with shock and disbelief. “You would do that to me, Sydney?”
“If you left me no other alternative, yes.” His tone is harsh but his eyes are soft and pleading. I don’t know what to think at this point.
“Is this even on my behalf anymore? Or are you afraid that if I’m dead, they’ll kill you next?” I sneer accusingly.
“What? Jarod, that is…”
“Or is it for poor, little pregnant Miss Parker who needs me to deliver and hide the baby? What the hell is this really about, Sydney?!” I shout at him, heedless of how irrational I am at the moment. “Because it sure doesn’t seem like it’s about me anymore!”
He grabs my arm again and squeezes tight. Hurt. Insulted. Livid. “First of all, lower your voice.” He rumbles at me, whispering harshly. “Second, it’s always been about you, Jarod. ALWAYS. Fuck what they do to me. I couldn’t care less. I was the one who helped ruin your life and I’ve felt guiltier than you could ever imagine for that crime the entire time I’ve known you.” He tears his grasp away from me, his blue eyes hot and angry, boring relentlessly into mine. “As far as Miss Parker goes, the arrangements she made with you are none of my concern. They’re between you and her and that’s all. The only reason I snuck out here was to warn you and keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted was to protect you, Jarod. How DARE you stand here after all that’s happened and make wild, stupid accusations like that! You have no idea what they will do if they find you here. I do, so just take my bloody word for it, pack your shit and disappear!”
He stands there after his tirade and huffs from a sudden lack of breath, his eyes still burning holes of fury into my retinas. I remain trapped in his smoldering glare, unable to so much as blink. Never in all the years I’ve known Sydney had I ever seen him as angry with me as I just did today.
“Sydney…I…” I swallow hard, fresh tears drowning my face. This time, they are tears of shame. “I’m so sorry.” I hug him tight. His body is rigid and cold, but he hugs me in return nonetheless.
“Go, Jarod. Please.” His tone returns to its normal decibel. “Before it’s too late.”
I sniffle and cough, eyeing him a few last moments before nodding dejectedly. “I just have one question I need to ask, Sydney.” I state in almost a whisper.
“What is it?”
“Why is it you never answered me when I inquired about your personal views on homosexuality?” He seems taken aback by this. He adverts his eyes for a moment and then looks back at me uncomfortably.
“I don’t know. I didn’t want to get too personal with you, Jarod.”
“I know, you’ve made that abundantly clear. And I know this isn’t the time nor the place, but I need to know how you feel about this. Bola and I, I mean.”
“I’m perfectly fine with it. I just don’t like seeing you wither away in his absence like this. I’m trying to prepare you for the possibility that he might not return.”
I sigh, turning away. “I know you mean well, Sydney. But I just know I’ll see him again. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Why sit here and wait?” He shrugs. “If there was a way he could get here, maybe there’s a way you could get to this Axiom place, or wherever he’s from.”
I spin around suddenly to face him. “Sydney, you’re a genius! Of course! Hey, if anyone could pull it off, I can, right?”
He smiles at me fully. “Yes, Jarod. You could.” I grab his face, kiss him on the cheek and run across the street carelessly.
“Thank you, Sydney!”
I was inspired. I now had a new mission, something else to wake up to in the morning. Sydney was right, if there was a way for Bola to stumble here in the first place, there should be a way back. The only trick would be to find it. And if anyone could find it, I can. I just don’t believe it took me this long to realize it. For the first time ever, I ask my boss if I could go home early. She was too worried about me to say no. I also let her know that I might be going out of town for a while. That seems to worry her further. She doesn’t ask why, she just makes sure to tell me that my job will be waiting for me when I get back. The moment I get home, I call Sandra and leave a similar message on her answering machine.
I patch onto the internet and do a search for the word, “Axiom”. Some sites come up in different languages, I get a few car sites and then something odd happens. I get a site for a science-fiction novelist in Dennisport, Cape Cod. I click on and get swept away by amazing java graphics, large-as-life alien characters and a full description of some near-infinite space station and trading post called Axiom. I also take note of a mailing address. I unfold the brown paper bag Tom gave me at lunchtime with his address on it. I decide to pay him a surprise visit.
__
“Oh God, Jarod! I didn’t think you’d actually come!” Tom squeals in delight when I show up at his doorstep. “Come on in, please! Forgive my appearance.” He had answered the door in nothing but a loose-fitting, slightly damp pair of jeans with the fly halfway open. He steps aside so I can enter.
“Thanks.” I quirk an eyebrow as I survey the hole-in-the-wall basement studio apartment he rents. The smell of wet cat hits me square in the face as soon as I cross the threshold. I glance over to his raggedy old couch and see a scrawny, freshly bathed tabby cat rubbing all over the dirty, coarse material, trying to dry off. “Cute cat.”
“Yeah, that’s Essence. I just gave her a bath. She’ll be pissed at me for the next few days.” He laughs. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No thanks.” I sit down on a relatively dry cushion. I take a moment to glance around the place. The floors are ruined hardwood, the area rugs, like the furniture, looked as though they’d been bought at a second-hand thrift store, and there were more book cases here than I’d ever seen in one place save for a library. You couldn’t see the walls for all the books. “Listen, remember you were telling me about that uncle of yours in Dennisport? The science-fiction novelist?”
“The nutcase? Yeah, what about ‘im?” Tom throws on a flimsy white tee shirt and sits immediately next to me.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any of his books on hand, would you?”
He laughs. “Are you kidding? He sends me like three copies every time one of his books gets published. He spits ‘em out faster than R.L. Stein. Why do you ask?”
“R.L. Stein?
“Goosebumps…nevermind. What, are you actually into all that sci-fi crap?”
“I might be interested in reading some of his work, yes. How many books has he published?” I pet the cat’s damp head when she comes over to sniff my lap.
“I don’t know, about 9 or 10. I got ‘em all over there in that corner if you want to borrow them.” He motions over to one of the many mismatched bookshelves near the small kitchen with a shrug.
I get up and walk over to the bookcase, glancing through them. “I’ll give you two hundred for a copy of each.” I state plainly, not even looking at him.
“Dollars? Hell, no problem! For that much, I’ll even carry ‘em to your house!” He laughs, sounding excited.
“No, I’m going away for a while and I’ll need some reading material.” I take one particular book in hand with several alien faces on the cover. One of them looked frighteningly like one of Bola’s relatives. The ones with the big, round ears. “Have you read any of these?”
“I’ve read them all. They’re weird. My uncle writes like he’s actually been to these planets and met all these people. He also keeps telling me they really exist. I tell him, ‘If so, then they’d better be getting royalties.’” He chuckles at his own joke.
“Does the name, ‘Yaonis’ mean anything to you?”
“Uh…wait, yeah. One of the characters is one of those. He’s like a love starved street poet with like two years to live or something like that.”
“Do the books tell you anything about the races?” I flip through a couple pages, skimming the words.
“Yeah, he gives a brief summary of the race, but I don’t remember any in particular. I’ve read about six big books this month alone. Cut me some slack.” I stand up and slap the money on his coffee table right then and there. He glares up at me with a wide-eyed look. “At least let me get you a drink.”
“Fine.” I smile, sitting back down with the first volume. “Got any chocolate milk?”
“No, but I can make you a mudslide. They’re 10 times better.” He smiles, beginning to get up, as if he already knew I’d say yes.
“Sure, why not?” I oblige him. While he stands there making them in the blender for some reason, I skim the book. Near the back, he gives the reader some rough sketches of several different races, including the Yaonis. It says here that they age twice as fast as humans, and once they mate with a male, they begin aging at the exact pace their mates do. Unfortunately, they only live as long as their mates do as well. If a Yaonis never mates, they live 20 years and no more.
Okay, wait. Bola appeared to be in his early 20’s. And if he ages twice as fast as me, that would make him 10 or 11. Geez, that’s sick. I slept with a 10 year-old, and it was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had.
I sigh suddenly, feeling the familiar twinge of pain again. God, I miss him. I’d give anything to hold him in my arms again, to breathe his sweet, spicy musk, to kiss those soft, perfect lips one more time…
“One mudslide, coming up!” Tom interrupts my thoughts, plopping a glass of this brown…ice stuff on the coffee table in front of me.
“*That’s* a mudslide?” I frown, eyeing it.
“It’s like chocolate ices. It’s really, really good. Trust me, take a sip.”
I warily bring it to my lips. It does smell pretty good, so I take some in my mouth. It kind of reminds me of ice cream, only less creamy. It had a slightly alcoholic aftertaste. “Does this mudslide contain alcohol? Because I really don’t drink, drinking causes Sirosis of the liver, stomach problems, too much can poison your blood stream…”
“Oh, it’s one fucking drink, Jarod. Lighten up.” He sounds almost serious for a moment, then smiles at me, his eyes narrowed. I sigh and take another sip.
The more I drink of this stuff, the better it tastes. Pretty soon, I don’t even taste the alcohol and I finish the entire glass. He almost immediately offers me a refill. I accept it. The next thing I know, I’ve consumed three whole glasses of the stuff and I’m laughing at every little thing Tom says. I feel giddy, lightheaded and happy. Even looking at his cat makes me snicker sloppily. Tom sits right up against me, and I find that I’m thoroughly enjoying the physical contact.
“You okay?” He asks, putting a hand on my knee. I nod absently and inanely giggle. “Good.” He smiles wide, staring into my eyes meaningfully. “Jarod, I want you to know that I find you amazingly attractive.”
“Wull, thank yeeww!” I slur, chuckling at my own inability to form halfway coherent words.
“I’m being serious. I really like you.” He breathes, squeezing my inner thigh slightly.
“Hey, wait, stop.” I protest weakly, grabbing him by the wrist. “I’m taken, remember? My boyfriend is…”
“Away on business, you told me. When is he coming back?” Tom grins almost knowingly, his sharp gray eyes assaulting mine on almost a physical level. My mouth moves but I can’t seem to make a sound. I’m finally able to tear my gaze away from his and this causes him to sigh, putting an arm around my waist. “Hey, it’s okay. I know how you feel, I’ve been there.”
“Youuuu…have no Earthly idea.” I exhale, closing my eyes.
“Yes, Jarod, I do. It hurts like a mother fucker, doesn’t it? You can’t close your eyes without seeing his face? Sometimes when you sleep, you could swear you hear him outside the room, or swear you can still smell him? Believe me, I know.” His brows knit with concern and lingering emotional pain. I bite my knuckles to keep from crying.
“It’s been three whole months, Tom…I don’t even know if he’s even still alive. I don’t even know where to begin trying to find him.”
“Why did he leave?” Tom strokes my shoulders lovingly.
“Some dangerous people are looking for him. They say he did something I know he didn’t do, but I have no way of proving it. He left to keep me from getting hurt.”
“Jesus, what a mess. I’m sorry, Jarod.”
“Don’t be. In fact, there’s something you can do to help me.” I turn halfway to face him and he presses his cheek against mine.
“Just name it.” His arms wrap around my chest in a bear hug, and his lips brush up slightly against my earlobe. I get a slight shiver.
“I need you to introduce me to your uncle. He might have some of the answers I seek.”
Tom snickers softly and pulls away. “Say what?” I look at him back. “Jarod, that’s nuts. What the hell could my uncle possibly have to say that would even remotely be considered useful? He’s a space case!”
“That’s what I’m counting on, Tom.” I smile.
“Hey,” He puts his face close to mine again and smiles, nudging my head to the side so he can have access to my exposed neck. “Why don’t we forget about all that for now. I can help take your mind off your pain, Jarod. If just for a little while.” I open my mouth to protest but I don’t get that far. He plants small, sensuous kisses along my neck and jawline. The sensation makes me close my eyes and sigh deeply. His hands caress my chest, toying with my quickly hardening nipples from over my v-neck shirt.
I let out a soft cry. “Tom, please, I can’t…”
“Yes you can, you just won’t allow yourself to.” His breath beats heatedly against the back of my neck. “Let me take away your pain tonight, Jarod, please.” He licks and nibbles all over my sensitive neck, chewing seductively on my earlobes and the tense flesh between my neck and shoulder. All I can do to respond is moan and swallow. My head feels like it’s swimming. The sensation I’ve longed for seems like it’s swallowing me whole. I no longer have a choice. I lean back into him, giving in completely. He’s right about one thing, I’d give anything for the pain to go away, if just for one night. I surrender myself to him, body and soul. My heart, however, is no longer mine to give.
He gets up and climbs on top of me, pinning my sweaty, willing body to the couch. I wrap my arms around his slender, lithe form. His sultry lips close in on mine, his hot tongue pushing it’s way into my even hotter mouth. I moan against it, bucking my hips slightly against his in blatant desire. My fingers run through his short dirty blond hair, massaging his scalp and the back of his neck. His brows knit as I do this and his mouth hangs open in a silent groan. I arch my back off the couch to help him remove my shirt, and I in turn relieve him of his. He explores my heaving chest with both hands, moving down my body to lick the patch of dark hair near my right nipple. His skilled tongue dances around the nipple for a while first, before tracing over the very tip of it and blowing on it, making me cry out sharply. I grab the back of his head and push his mouth onto it fully, forcibly. Urgently. My mind is so clouded with lust and passion that I’m barely able to remember my own name.
“Oh God…that feels good…” I groan out breathlessly.
“Give me a while,” He purrs against my hot flesh. “I’ll make it feel better.”
“I’d like that.” I close my eyes as his tongue drags further down to my stomach, his fingers struggling with the button of my jeans. I reach down and help him off with them, and he wastes no time stroking the thick package bulging from my underwear. He then slides lower, onto his hands and knees and begins kissing my cotton-encased length from tip to base, teasing and taunting me, making me want his mouth wrapped around my cock so bad I’m moments away from begging him for it.
“Mmm…I’d love to taste this hot piece of meat.” He groans eagerly, pulling my underwear down to my knees. I arch my ass up off the couch just enough to help him. He immediately takes my throbbing manhood in his warm hand and presses his thick, plush lips up hard against the very tip of my crown in a kiss. I can feel his tongue begin to peek through from in between them, sliding along my piss slit and then further along the crease, until his tongue is dragging all the way over my head to just beneath it. I grind my head against the couch and try to catch my breath, my hands grabbing two heaping fistfuls of his silky hair. He grunts against my dick as his lips close around it, the entire head now inside that hot, wonderful mouth.
I inhale sharply and shut my eyes tight. “Oh yes, Tom!” I cry out, digging my nails into his shoulders. He lets out tiny moans and whimpers as he bops up and down on my cock, and I take his head and instinctually guide him along. He caresses the inside of my thigh and wraps the other hand around my balls. I let out a deep, guttural groan and tilt my head back dramatically. “That’s it, suck my dick…ugh…you feel so amazing…”
“You ever suck a guy off before?” He pulls his mouth away from it just long enough to huff out those words, and then assaults my rod again with that skilled tongue of his.
“Yeah...I…once…” I grope his shoulders and stroke his hair as I feel his tongue slide all over my length. “I liked it too.”
He chuckles against my swollen member, then licks all the way up the vein slowly, torturously. I groan and curse through gritted teeth, which makes him chuckle more. “Wanna 69?” He smiles, his tongue snaking out and lapping all over my purple crown.
“What is that?” I shake my head, knitting my brows. Without another word, he gets up; taking his pants off and taking mine the rest of the way down. He then turns himself upside down, straddling my face, taking the base of my dick in one hand and holding himself up with the other. His mouth his soon wrapped around my meat again, and his own throbbing manhood is pushing hard up against my jaw. I slide my hand in between his hips and my face and aim his veined meat into my mouth. I feel it pulse and throb against my tongue and I hear him moan faintly against the dick he’s working on. However, now I have a dick of my own to play with, and I suck on the bloated shaft hard. His moans against my flesh get louder, huskier and grittier, and when I tease the very tip of it with my tongue from in between my lips, he lets out tiny whimpers as well.
“Mm!” He tears his mouth away momentarily. “Oh god, that’s my weakness!” He lets out a muffled sob as he desperately swallows my cock again, working it with more passion and vigor than before. I hold the base so that his dick is straight over my face, and instead of sucking it; I work the entire head over with my tongue, from front to back, I drag the flat of my tongue along his bloated crown over and over, and each time he rewards me with panicked moans and desperate whimpers. He grunts out muffled curses and strokes the base of my cock with his fingers as he sucks me; blowing me and jerking me off at the same time. It feels unique and amazing, and I in turn continue to tease and taunt his sensitive head with my tongue. I lightly rake my nails up and down his thighs as he adjusts himself on my face. My steely dick throbs and leaks precum wildly, and my hands soon wander over his tight, ample ass. Without even realizing it, I begin pulling those firm, round cheeks apart, just as Bola had done to me. He rewards me with more guttural groans, muffled by my thick cock.
The way he’s working me with his mouth is amazing…I feel my knot swell like I’m about to shoot off down his throat. He keeps up that smooth rhythm on my shaft and I barely get enough of a chance to let out a muffled cry of warning before I thrust my hips and flood his mouth with my thick, salty cum. He drinks it up as fast as my loins can empty it without missing a beat, moaning in satisfaction at my sudden explosion. Before my orgasm has even completely subsided, I’m left wondering how he was able to get me off that quickly. I must have needed it a lot more than I thought. Unfortunately, to my horror, without the haze of passion to cloud my judgment, I was quickly softening. I slide my spent member from his mouth with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Tom…” I replace my mouth with my hand, squeezing his tortured member, making him gasp and moan.
“Please don’t stop…please, I’m so close!” He begs shamelessly, and out of pity, I give it another squeeze, pumping his shaft a little. He grabs my thighs and lets out an elongated, desperate moan, his whole body quaking from pent-up arousal. “Please make me cum, Jarod. You can close your eyes and pretend I’m your boyfriend if it will help, but please don’t leave me hanging!” It seems like a good idea right about now, so I close my eyes and envision my beautiful Bola lying on top of me with his ass in my face. He lifts his hips up and rests on his knees, giving me more room to jerk off his cock, and I do. I let my fingers slide up and down his length, my other hand pulling his ass cheek out of my way so that my tongue can slither in between them to gain access to his tight pink pucker. “Agghh…FUCK!” Tom screams loudly and thrusts his ass back against my mouth. I can almost still hear my love cry out “bladook”. That alone gives me the drive to continue.
“Mm…” I moan softly while I assault his tight ring with my tongue, jerking his swollen dick, rolling my palm over the head just like he likes. It makes his whole body jump and thrash, and that only fuels me to do it some more. His excited, heightening moans are only getting me hard again, and my newfound erection pokes his cheek suggestively. He ignores it and rests his shoulders on my hips, reaching back with both hands to pull his ass cheeks apart for me. Seeing him do that sends waves of renewed arousal thundering through me, and only one thing fills my thoughts: I want to fuck the living daylights out of this guy. I pull my hand away from his bulbous hard on and nudge him off of me. “Tom…” I exhale breathlessly. “Get off me…and bend that sexy ass over the couch!”
He only hesitates momentarily, but then bolts up and puts his knees to the back cushion, grabbing the back for dear life with his gorgeous ass up and out in offering to me. He looks back over his shoulder and watches me get up and spit on my dick. “Take me, Jarod.” He voice comes out as a high-pitched whine. “Plow my ass…make me a man!!” He reaches back and holds himself wide as I slowly slide my way inside him. He leans forward and bites the cushion as I stretch his hole to its limits. I work my saliva into him, making my invading cock slip into him easily. He whimpers and cries against his clenched jaws, accepting my girth completely. I withdraw, reaching around and taking a hold of his fully hard and leaking cock, working the head slowly with my fingertips, pushing back into him inch by inch until I was rested inside him up to the hilt. He hisses through his teeth and shudders furiously. “Oh my god! Yes, Jarod, fuck me!”
“Oh yeah, I’m gonna fuck the cum out of you, you hot, sexy fuck!” I find myself talking in a way I never imagined. My own words are getting me more and more aroused, and Tom seems to be eating it up with a spoon. I can feel his whole body tense from him being so close, so I take my hand away from his dick and grab both his hips, concentrating on bucking my veined member deep inside him with every frenzied thrust. He cries in protest, but I need to delay his climax to allow myself a little time to catch up. He thrusts his ass against me and teases his own head a little to keep himself halfway distracted. “That’s it, baby, take every inch of my cock! You aren’t shooting off until I’ve had a chance to ram into you a while.” I lean over his arched back and drag the flat of my tongue up along his spine, plowing into him like a madman. He whimpers, his body buckling a bit from the sensation. I do it again, this time compounding my licks with a firm bite on his shoulder.
“Son of a bitch!” He roars, throwing his head back. “God, keep doing that!” I get a better grip on him with my teeth, grabbing onto his waist to pull his body into me with every thrust. I see him going to stroke himself off fully and before I can stop him, I feel his whole body stiffen and his sphincter clench unbelievably tight around my rod. “Agh…Aghhh….OHH YEAHHH!!!” His dick unleashes thick ribbons of sperm, while crying at the top of his lungs as his seed splatters all over the couch. He just keeps unloading it all over, and unbelievable amount flows from his cockhead before his climax subsides. Before I know it, half the couch is doused with his cream.
He moans softly and rests both of his arms lazily over the back of the couch as I continue to ream his now loosened ass, letting me have my way with him. I close my eyes and picture my love, my light, my Bola. His long, silvery-blue wealth of locks cascading past his lean, muscular shoulders and halfway down the subtle curves of his back…I close my eyes and remember that bronze serpent tattoo…his sweet, spicy smell, those blue pearls of sweat trailing down his pale, porcelain-like skin, every little minute detail. I lose myself. My whole body shudders as I feel myself approach closer and closer to my second climax. My vision clouds and when I open my eyes, I could swear he’s right there in front of me and I’m fucking him again. “Oh, Bola! I love you so much!” I hiss through my teeth and wrap my arms around him, never wanting to let go. His sweet voice fills my ears and I lose all control; my cock swells to full capacity and then my balls let go of their load, with a loud groan I overflow his tight canal with my thick, rich seed. Again and again with each incredible wave of my release, more sperm comes leaking out of the sides of his ass.
“Mmmm….” I hear a moan and it’s not Bola. I blink a few times as I come back to my senses and realize how bad I must’ve made Tom feel by calling him Bola. I don’t apologize, however, I merely slide out of him, kiss and lick down his spine and let my hands roam all over his body. He sighs happily and I pull him onto the carpet below the couch where we sit intermingled and caress each other lovingly.
“I’m sorry, Tom.” I sigh miserably, resting my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around me.
“Shh…don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s go clean up.” He smiles, nudging me up. He brings me into his bathroom where we shower in silence, we don’t wash each other or fool around like Bola and I did, though there is a little petting, it’s merely after-sex affection. He and I both clean up the couch and he makes it up for me to sleep on for the night, since his bed is too small for two people. We kiss goodnight with few words, and I stay up reading his uncle’s first volume until I fall blissfully asleep. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in three whole months.
__ __
Ding Dong.
It’s almost seven in the morning. Here I stand on Tom’s uncle’s porch in the freezing cold Dennisport air, feeling like an idiot. I’ve been standing here for almost three solid minutes and the man hasn’t answered his door. I sigh, and then turn sharply to leave.
“WHAT….WHAT???” A cranky, high-pitched voice comes from down the road. It jars me and I put a hand on my chest. An older, wild looking man in beige, old fashioned clothing comes pedaling down the main road on a rusty old twelve speed. “That’s my house, young man! Why are you standing in front of my house??” He skids to a stop at the bottom of the steps and frowns at me from underneath a thick white and blond mustache.
“You must be Ron Caldwell, hi, my name is Jarod and I…”
He waves a hand at me, as if to whisk me away with a mere gesture. “I don’t have any money. I’m not interested.”
I smile and descend the steps to approach him. “No, no, I’m not selling anything, Mr. Caldwell, I’m…”
“I’m not converting religions either!” He walks his bike over to the ledge and locks it up with a thick chain.
“You don’t understand. I’m a friend of your nephew, Tom.” He stops and looks up at me with wary, washed out green eyes when I say Tom’s name. “Look, I know he doesn’t believe you about alien beings, but I do.” I hold up one of his books. “I’ve met a Yaonis, Mr. Caldwell, and I need your help to find him again. I need to find a way onto Axiom.”
He bursts out laughing suddenly, nearly keeling over onto the floor. I grip the book tightly to my chest, feeling more than a little embarrassed. He finally grips the banister and wipes his eyes, looking at me semi-seriously. “You…want me to send you to Axiom? Son, there are things there that would eat a newbie like you for breakfast!”
My eyes narrow with determination. “I don’t care, sir. I need to find my friend before it’s too late, and you’re the only person that might be able to help me.”
He sighs loudly, marching up the steps, meeting me halfway, then walking right past me, getting the keys out of his breast pocket. “Well, I’m sorry, but you’ve come to the wrong place. I can’t help you.”
When he opens the door, I jam my fist into the doorway, blocking his path with my arm. “Mr. Caldwell, you have to help me. There’s no one else who can.” The stout little man looks up at me furiously. “Please, Mr. Caldwell, at least tell me what you know so I can try to find my own way!” My eyes are wide and pleading at this point. “I’ll pay you whatever you want!”
Some of the anger melts away from his aged face. He huffs and shakes his head. “Boy, this Yaonis of yours has really got his claws in you good, don’t he?” It was more of an observation than a question. I merely nod and continue to plead with my eyes. He shuts his eyes for a moment and shrugs dramatically. “Very well, I’ll tell you what I know. But no autographs. If you ask, I’ll toss you out on your ear, you got it?”
“Yes, sir, thank you!” I could jump for joy right now. Finally, there was hope.
“Alright, now stop whining and shut the door behind you before you let my dog out.” I comply, following him into a rather large, sparsely furnished house with all sorts of little knick-knacks and trinkets hanging from the walls and dangling from the ceiling. I follow him through a dining room with large, unused rustic furniture and strange masks and statues lining the walls. We finally go into this dimly lit kitchen and sit down. “Care for some iced blackberry tea…err...Jarod, right?”
“Yes, and thank you, I’d love some.”
He goes into his fridge and pours me a glass with shaky hands. I thank him and he sits down with me at the green wooden kitchen table. I see a small, furry dachshund sitting on the windowsill, staring at me indifferently.
“Oh, is that your dog?” I point to it.
“Yeah, that’s Wowie.” He smiles. I start to get up to go over and pet him and Mr. Caldwell grabs my arm. “Uh…please, Wowie doesn’t like to be…um…touched.”
“Okay…” I sit back down, my brows knitted, a little confused and more than a little suspicious. “Anyway, listen, I really need your help.” I decide to let it slide.
“Alright, first, I need you to tell me what brought you here, and then I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” So, I spill it to him. I tell him everything that happened with Bola. He merely sits and strokes his chin, listening to me. We go through three and a half cups of blackberry iced tea.
“Please, Mr. Caldwell, I need to know what I’m up against here.”
“Okay, for one thing, Axiom is an interplanetary trading post of near-infinite proportion. Like, you could live for six hundred years, wander around out there and never see the same sector twice. Any and every race you could possibly imagine go there to trade, learn, get laid, or any number of things. Many people actually live there.” I nod, jotting things down and listening intently. “The Yaonis are a very distinct, unique race. They’re all unearthly beautiful, they can charm the pants off of any guy they meet and they live like hippies, worshipping their planet and eating trees and flowers and fly testicles and stuff.”
“Yeah, I know. Are they all male?”
“Yeah, don’t ask me how they reproduce, I never really wanted to learn that.”
“And they only live for 20 years, right? Like if they don’t find a mate?”
“Yeah, pretty much, this Yaonis guy, you didn’t mate with him, did you? Let me see your hands.”
“Yeah, we did…um…actually. Why do you want to see my hands?” My gaze darts to something moving on the wall behind him. My jaw drops open and my eyes widen dramatically. “Umm…Mr. Caldwell?” I point up behind him. “Your…uh…dog…just climbed up the wall.”
He stands up and spins around, and sure enough, Wowie has scaled up the wall and now sits upside-down on the ceiling, glaring down at us plainly. Mr. Caldwell turns back around to face me, casually gesturing towards the dog. “What, you never seen a dog scale a wall before?”
“Umm…no, I can’t say I have.”
“Well, they can all…uhh…be trained to do it…you just have to, um…” He scratches his head, struggling to come up with a decent enough explanation.
“That’s not a dog, Mr. Caldwell.” I point to the plain metal disk attached to its collar. “That’s an image distorter, if I’m not mistaken.”
“An Avatar, actually, and you’re right, Wowie’s a Dune Snake, but let’s just keep that between us, okay?”
“What the hell is a Dune Snake?” I watch him as he sits back down, facing me.
“A really cute, furry white predator from Hanzorr. They eat raw meat, and they make for great rat hunters, and as long as you keep them well fed, they’re even better pets.” He grabs my wrists and holds the palms where he can see them. “Now, let me see your hands.” He looks down and studies my palms. “Hmm, no, you aren’t formally mated, there’s no scar. And you say you’ve been physically ill? That’s really weird.”
“What are you talking about? Scar…? Why is it weird?” I pull my hands back.
“The Yaonis have this mating ritual that they do and you aren’t formally mated until you perform it. It’s pretty bloody and gruesome, but they say when you mate with a Yaonis, a spiritual bond forms and you can actually feel what they feel, on a spiritual level, at least. The fact that you’re pining for him so bad and you aren’t even formally mated is really bizarre. Kid, you think what you’re going through now is bad, you don’t know the half of it. See, the thing is, it’s a double-standard. When a Yaonis mates out of his race, he only lives up until the moment you do. If he dies, however, you’d live on, but a large part of your soul would be ripped out, and most people that have lost Yaonis mates hurt so bad they end up killing themselves. It’s a beautiful and sick thing all at once.”
“My God, that’s awful.” I cover my mouth, my feelings suddenly mixed.
“But once you’re mated, there are no lies, no secrets, no fear of infidelity, just what’s been described as the most holy and amazingly divine sensation of love an acceptance they’ve ever been blessed with.” He smiles at me and taps my hand with a palm.
“And what about the Proxidas? Who are they, bounty hunters?”
“No, son, the Proxidas are the law on Axiom. Picture them as cops armed to the teeth and not boggled down by red tape. Now give them the power to uphold Axioms laws, and the freedom to break any and all of them in order to apprehend a suspect. Don’t mess with the Proxidas, Jarod. They’ll eat you alive. They train for over a year in weapons and tactics and they know all the ins and out of most alien cultures. Piss one off and he’ll trick you into setting yourself up for a death match with a pissed off Gorgoth. Now, you say they think he killed a Proxida? That’s gonna be difficult to disprove and if they catch him, he’s up for some hard time.”
“What would they do to him?”
“For something like that? Probably Cryogenics Containment. They’d freeze him for thirty years…but for a Yaonis? That might as well be a death sentence.”
“What?? But he’ll be frozen, he won’t age!” I stand up, suddenly sick to my stomach with worry and aggravation.
“It doesn’t matter. They’ve tried it before on his kind and they always drop dead…unless their mates are still alive when they get out.” He stands up to meet my wandering, tight browed gaze. “He’s not mated, is he? Of course not. He wouldn’t have slept with you if he was. Jarod, if they freeze him, he’s got 10 years tops, and then he’ll die.” I look at his worried face like I’m about to cry. My insides are twisting and pureeing around my spine and my head is muddy and sluggish with sudden panic. He looks down and sighs.
“Oh God…” I grab my face and burst into tears. My Bola was going to die for a crime he didn’t commit, and I still don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about it. “What am I going to do, Mr. Caldwell?” I cradle my face with both hands.
“Unless you have a bio-tracer with his genetic code programmed into it, nothing. And I wouldn’t send you to Axiom for this anyway, because that’s the last place he’d be. If I sent you anywhere, it would be the Yaonis’ home world, Shpyre. You could try to find Bola’s family and ask for their help. They would be more qualified to assist you than I would. I’m just a writer and junk collector.” He shrugs with a sorrowful smile.
“But you said you couldn’t send me anywhere.” I sniffle, looking back up at him.
“Yeah, well…I lied.” He chuckles. I’m human, it’s my God-given right.” He walks over to a tin above his fridge, reaches in and pulls out a small black disk. “Now this is the only Carry-Portal I own. I normally wouldn’t go out on such a limb, but I feel for you, seeing as how this is a matter of life and death and all.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Caldwell, I don’t know how to thank you!” I go to hug him and he recoils.
“Ah-ah, not yet. First, I need a few things from you as payment, and you have to give them to me no matter how bizarre they might sound.”
I’m startled for a few moments, suddenly feeling nervous. “Uh, yeah, sure. Anything. Name it.”
“I want that nice watch you got on.” He points to it, both eyebrows raised.
“Uhhh...okay?” I slowly take it off.”
“And I’ll need a lock of your hair, three buttons from your shirt, a wad of spit and whatever electronic devices you won’t be using.”
“What??” I pause for a moment, just glaring at him.
“Remember, you said anything.” He scolds me.
“Um, fine. Sure. Okay.” I knit my brows in confusion, spitting into a little container he hands me with a cap on it, putting a clipping of my hair in a small ziplock and cutting off three plastic buttons from my flannel shirt. Tom was right, what a weirdo. The only electronic devices I’m willing to part with are a tape recorder, ten tapes and a plug-in microphone. He accepts them gladly and hands me the black disk.
“Okay, let me just program in Shpyre’s coordinates…hold on. He pulls it closer to him and pokes at it with a pin. “Now what were those coordinates again? Oh, darnit.”
Oh, for crying out loud. “Don’t you have a list or something? Maybe a reference sheet?” I probe, not being able to stand this much longer.
“Ah, you know what? I just might! Stay right here.” He lets go of the disk and goes back into the tin. “Ah, here we go! Give it to me, I’ll punch in the code.” I hand it over to him and he programs the thing, his eyes fixed on it intently. I watch him curiously from over his shoulder. “Now remember, I want this back in the same condition I gave it to you.”
“Of course, sir. Thank you.” He hands it to me and I smile warmly at him.
“My advice to you is, don’t press this middle button right away. Go home, take care of whatever needs taking care of and prepare to be gone a while. Pack whatever you need, and that includes food. All they eat over there is plants and bugs. Yick!”
I laugh, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Caldwell, thanks again.”
“Aw, Ron, please.” He shakes his head, smiling. “Now get outta here, kid, and good luck finding your boyfriend. Trust me, you’ll need it.” He shakes my hand and shows me to the door, and I thank him profusely the entire way there. I even say goodbye to Wowie.
When I get outside, I smile wider than I had in months. Finally, I have a way. I have hope. Now all I need to do is go food shopping and make a phone call or two before I leave. I hop in my car where all my things have already been packed and head off to the nearest supermarket with that smile dawned on my face the whole way.
“This is Sydney” He picks up on the second ring.
“Hi there! How are you this morning?” I drive along a near highway with the window rolled down, enjoying the clean, fresh air against my face.
“Jarod! You sound so happy! What happened?” He sounds pleased as usual to hear from me, but now even more so. I merely laugh at the question.
“I am happy, Sydney, and you were right. I found a way to look for Bola myself.”
There’s a slight pause. “Oh? Oh! That’s…wonderful!” The joy in his voice suddenly sounds a bit forced. “Heavens, but do you work fast.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not hard if you know what to look for.” I frown. “Sydney, don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’ve always been able to take care of myself.” I listen to him sigh. “Don’t tell me you were hoping I’d go around the world looking for this the hard way.”
“No, it’s not that, I really am happy you’re leaving to find Bola yourself, I really am. It’s just that…well, I’m going to miss you.”
I chuckle. “I’ll miss you too, Sydney, but I won’t be gone forever. When I find him and prove his innocence, I’ll bring him back here, and then we’ll take you and Miss Parker back to Axiom where The Center will never be able to hurt us again.”
He pauses again, then sighs. “What about Angelo? And what about Broots and his daughter, Debbie?”
“They can come too.” I smile. He laughs. I suddenly feel depressed. “Tell Angelo I said hi, okay?”
“Will do, Jarod. And be safe. I wish you nothing but the best, whatever you decide to do.” Is he implying that I might choose not to come back?
“I’ll be back, Sydney, trust me. I have a promise to keep to Miss Parker, remember?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Goodbye, Sydney.” I hold on the line for an extra moment.
“Goodbye, Jarod.”
__
By the time I get outside the supermarket gates, my arms are filled with food; mostly sandwiches, cans and ready-made meals. I even stop by an army store and pick up a mini cookware set, strike-anywhere matches, a small canvas cooler with a shoulder strap and a canteen. I almost forget the can opener, which would be almost as amusing as it would be inconvenient. I feel excited and anxious about all this. I’m looking forward to meeting Bola’s family, to learn more about his people and his culture. When I get everything in the car, it dawns on me that I have more stuff here than I can carry. Shit, that means I have one more stop to make.
“City Morgue, you spill ‘em, we chill ‘em.”
“Ha, ha…hey, Sandra.”
“Jerry! Hey, you sound great! What happened to you the other night, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Listen, can I come over? We need to talk and I need a big favor.”
“Anything for you, man. Sure, I’m home and awake, come on over. I’ll cook you breakfast, okay?”
“Thanks, I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Great, Jer, I’ll see you then.”
I make one more phone call to my boss after that, thanking her for all she’s done for me and that I’ll be gone for a while. She reminds me that my job will be waiting for me and wishes me well. She doesn’t ask me any questions, though I can sense that she wants to.
I also call Tom and leave a message on his machine.
“Tom, listen, I’ll be going out of town for a while. Thanks for everything, buddy, you’ve been wonderful to me. But listen, I need to ask you a favor. If anyone comes around asking about me, you don’t know me. You don’t recognize my picture and you don’t know my name. Okay? Thanks again, man. Hopefully, I’ll see you again soon. Good luck with your job and school. Take care of yourself and stay off the Pot. Heh. Buh-bye.”
I roll up the windows and enjoy the drive back to Provincetown. What beautiful scenery. I’ll truly miss Earth for the while that I’ll be gone, it’s such a beautiful place. It isn’t long until I’m back within town limits, hunting for a parking space near Sandra’s quaint three story walk-up. She’s waiting for me outside, and when she sees me stroll by in my car slowly, we wave to each other. I find a spot across the street and she runs over to me and hugs me. I hug her tightly in return. I waste no time telling her about what happened. We go upstairs and she already has western omelets, hash browns and orange juice waiting for me when I walk in. Over breakfast, I fill her in on the details, even about the prank I pulled on The Center. She gets a real kick out of it.
My tone suddenly goes serious. “Sandra, remember that guy I told you about that hit on me the other day at lunch?” She nods with her plump cheeks full of food. “Well, last night, I found out that his uncle, this guy Ron Caldwell writes science fiction novels about Axiom, and he mentions the Yaonis in them.”
“Are you serious??” She giggles loudly.
“Yeah, and so I went over to his house last night to borrow some of his uncle’s books…and…” I trail off.
“And…?” Her eyes are wide with anticipation.
I blush furiously. “And…he got me drunk on Mudslides.” I smile, adverting my gaze.
She inhales sharply, her hand on her chest. “Oh my goodness, Jerry, you didn’t.”
I cringe. “I did.” I burry my face in my hands and chuckle quietly, then look up at her again, smiling. “And it was great!” I feel shameful even saying it, but it’s the truth.
“So what about Bola? What are you going to tell him when you see him again?” She sips her orange juice, her blue eyes fixed intently on my giddy brown ones.
“I don’t know…should I tell him?”
“Yes, absolutely. If you love him so much, you shouldn’t keep secrets from him. He didn’t have to tell you he was an alien, but he did.” I sigh at her comment, because it makes all the sense in the world and both of us knew it.
“Sandra, I need a big favor from you.” I frown suddenly, hating to have to ask this of her. She nods, listening. “Can I leave a few things of mine here with you? There’s nowhere else I can keep them, and I can’t carry them all with me to Shpyre.”
“Sure, babe, no problem.” She takes my hand and smiles. “You can leave whatever you need in my bedroom. Just do me one favor, okay?”
“Anything.” I smile warmly.
“I want you to take something with you.” She gets up, goes into her livingroom and takes something out of the china closet. It looks to be a small wooden doll with a fat woman painted on it. She hands it to me. “This is a Babushka Doll. It was my mothers, and before she left to go back to the Ukraine, she gave it to me to remember her by. Now that she’s gone, I’m giving it to you to remember me by.”
I exhale, my eyes wide. “Sandra, I can’t accept this. It’s part of your history. Besides, I’ll be coming back. I promise.” I hold up my hand when she goes to give it to me.
“No, Jerry, I insist. Besides, it’s cool. Check it out, it comes apart.” She breaks it in half and another, smaller doll looking just like it pops out.
“Oh, wow, that is neat!” She breaks that one and an even smaller one comes out. And then another, and then another. How amazing! The smallest one is no bigger than my pinky toe. She hands the smallest one to me and I marvel at the detail of it.
“It’s all hand-made. Take it, Jerry, please. Consider it my only stipulation for keeping your stuff here.” She smiles slightly with her eyes wide.
I sigh. “Alright, fine, but when I return, you’re getting it back.” We share a laugh and she agrees. We finish our breakfast with talk of other, more pleasant subjects. At one point, I give her my car keys and tell her to keep it warm for me until I get back.
Afterwards, she helps me move some books and other things from my car into her room. I wrap her Babushka Doll up in newspaper and find a place in my duffle bag for it. I fill up the backpack I bought with all my supplies and fill up my cooler with perishables. Before I know it, I’m ready to leave. She fixes my collar and smiles, her eyes tearing up.
“Just be careful, and take care of yourself, and watch out for killer aliens, okay? And watch your stuff around these people. Oh, and try not to eat any live bugs, unless they’re chocolate-covered. Try not to get into any fights, and stay away from things you can’t pronounce. Okay??”
I chuckle. “Yes, mom.” She sniffles, smiles and hugs me again. I put my bags down to hug her in return. “I’ll be alright, Sandra. Quit worrying.”
“I know, I can’t help it.” She wipes her nose and helps me pick up my bags. She watches me take out the small black disk and blows me a kiss. “Be well, Jerry.”
“You too.” I grin and press the button, shutting my eyes tight, preparing for the worst.
To Be Continued in Chapter 5...
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She suddenly lets go of my face. “They took his dignity…” She steps back a few paces, and for the first time I realize she has a bulging belly. “…And they also took mine.” She covers her mouth, bursting into silent sobs. Oh God….oh…my God. Unable to even speak at this point, I stagger back, still wide-eyed with my jaw dragging on the ground. “One day, I got into an elevator…” She gasps and swallows, trying to speak through growing hysteria. “And the next thing I knew, I was in the infirmary.” She rakes her hair back maniacally. “They told me I’d fainted. Those fucking bastards…those evil…fucking BASTARDS!” She cries, balling her fists and shutting her eyes tight. “My father did this to me…he ordered it and Raines made it happen.”
(Earlier that day: P.O.V.- Sydney)
Immediately, the colored picture comes up of Raines’ face, and several other men, obscured by shadow, standing in the background. On the bottom left-hand corner, it says, [“Bola”, For Center Use Only and the date…three months ago.] Raines’ face moves back and we’re looking at the outside of some sort of meat locker. The camera pans forward, closer to the glass and we distinctly hear Bola’s voice screaming from inside. After a moment or two, we can see him as well, completely naked and raking his sharp claws against the metal door hysterically. There are several claw marks on the inside of the window as well.
“Jarod, so help me…” He growls into the phone helplessly.
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