Remeon's Destiny 1x5525

Edited by Denise Barker

Remeon’s Destiny Copyright © 2018 J.W. Garrett All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please write to the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published by BHC Press

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018930085

ISBN: 978-1-948540-87-2 (Hardcover)

ISBN: 978-1-947727-30-4 (Softcover) ISBN: 978-1-948540-34-6 (Ebook)

For information, write: BHC Press 885 Penniman #5505 Plymouth, MI 48170

Visit the publisher at: www.bhress.com

Dedicated to the memory of “S.T.” whose spirit lives between these pages

Know that you have been the last dream of my soul. — Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

DAMN STUPID OLD-FASHIONED rules were meant to be broken. It’s 1947, for God’s sake, Thomas Stewart thought, as he slid open the barn door with a grating squeak. Momentarily blinded by the darkness, he gave his eyes a few minutes to adjust. Bessie let out a somber moo, objecting to the intrusion. He moved quickly to her side to quiet and comfort her, whispering, “It’s okay, girl. I’m not here to bother you just yet.” Shep rose from his blanket nestled in the straw and bounded toward Thomas, barking a hello. “No, no, no. It’s not time to play,” Thomas said, reaching down to pet his dog, his eyes now accustomed to the low light. He heard the rhythmic back and forth thud of Shep’s tail wagging against the barn floor, and squatted to give him more attention, scratching behind each ear. “Listen up. Stay… I can’t have you barking and carrying on. Pa will know something is up for sure.” Thomas made his way to the back of the barn, focusing on his target just ahead. He and Pa had finished tweaking the transmission a few days ago. The used 1942 Harley had been calling to Thomas ever since. He smiled as he thought of the freedom he would feel when he hit the road, just a few minutes away. Thomas moved in closer, grasping the handlebars and releasing the kickstand as he made his way to the door, Shep following closely. “Stay, boy, stay.” Thomas led the motorbike down the long hill to the road. A short walk later, the family farm no longer in his sight, he prepared to kick-start the bike. He bent down, opened the choke and turned the key. He mounted then, kicked down hard on the starter, pressed in the clutch, and popped the gear into second. As he gave it some throttle, the engine sputtered, then came to life, announcing itself with a low rumble. The Harley felt powerful underneath him, and he smiled with satisfaction. This was heaven. Under the light of the half moon, in the rural Virginia town, he rode through the cool early morning air—very early in the morning—as it slapped his face and blew his hair, invigorating him. He breathed evenly now, releasing his pent-up tension as he escaped the farm, leaving behind his strict parents and his landlocked life, and followed along the dirt-filled path to the meeting place.

As he neared his destination, he slowed, pressed in the clutch, and downshifted, gliding to a stop. “Joe, where are you?” “I’m here. Stop your bellowing,” Joe said, emerging from the trees. He took a long drag from the cigarette hanging from his lips, then continued. “You trying to wake the dead or just your ma and pa? They can probably hear you, ya know?” he said, laughing, as he threw Thomas the box of Camels. “Aw, shut up,” Thomas said, giving his friend a shove. “Now, now, you asked, and I delivered. Watch out. Be careful of the merchandise,” Joe said, revealing a brown paper sack, offering it to Thomas. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Thomas reached in, pulling out a Budweiser. He grabbed his pocketknife from his pants and popped off the bottle top, then slid in beside his friend. “You got a light?” “Sure.” “Looks like I’ve got some catching up to do,” Thomas said, as he noticed the empty slots of the six-pack. He cupped his hands and lit his cigarette, drew deeply, then exhaled slowly. “We’ve got backup supplies, waiting in the wings,” Joe said, patting another bag. “Plenty left to get you toasted.” Thomas gulped down several large swallows, then burped loudly. “Hey, how’s your money supply? You still saving for our adventure?” “Some,” Joe said, taking another long swig. “Things are tight.” “I know they are. My parents are always pinching pennies. Damn Depression. It really messed them up. But why do we need to keep hearing about it? It’s 1947. It’s over. It’s been over for like eight years now. But I’m still hearing, Things were different when we were young. Blah, blah.” “Same here, except I have even less saved than you. How much do you have? C’mon, tell me. I know it’s more than me.” “Um, close to thirty-five dollars. Not really enough to last us for long without

jobs, which we don’t even have yet,” he said, polishing off his first beer. Thomas stood up and pointed at a tree. “Look there, Joe. That one up ahead about forty yards. You think I can hit it?” “Well, I know I can’t,” he said, slurring his words. Thomas did a mock windup and pitched the bottle hard, smashing it to bits. “And the crowd goes wild,” he said, prancing in circle. “Ooh, aah,” Joe said in mock amazement. “Sit down, stupid, and have another beer. You’ll miss the next shot.” As Thomas opened his second beer, he paused. “Are you still with me? We’re leaving town together, ?” “Sure, ugly. Always, together forever,” Joe said, laughing. “Hey, serious up. I mean it. I’m leaving soon, even if I have to walk outta this boring lifeless town.” Thomas downed several long gulps of his beer, as silence fell over the pair. He took a final drag of his cigarette and stomped it out with his foot. “Thomas, man, you know my parents lost everything during the Depression. They’re scared, and they’ll be scared ’til the day they die. Hell, they’re practically dead already. And I’m scared shitless that I’m gonna follow in their footsteps. Oh, and I’ve got about five bucks to my name and beer for brains.” “Next thing you know, you’re gonna get all weepy on me. For real, I’ve got your back. Now, after I take a piss, I’m gonna need another. Can you handle that?” “I’ll see what I can do to accom, accom, accom…mo…date.” “But first another shot.” Thomas stood and grabbed his empty bottle, paused and took aim, and let the bottle fly. “The second in a row, yes! This boy is hot tonight,” he said, moving to the perimeter and unzipping his fly. “Aah.” “Not so fast, Thomas. Look. We got company. Now, shhh.” Thomas turned, then fell to the ground as he saw flashing red lights. “Where did he come from? Shit.”

“What? Now I’m the calm one?” Joe asked. “I can barely stand, much less take a piss—well, maybe piss on myself.” “Shut up! If they find us, I’m dead meat. Why is he driving so slow?” “He heard you, Jackie Robinson, hitting those trees. Now can you run as fast as Robinson too?” “Run? I can’t run home and leave the bike. You are wasted.” “Shhh, here he comes again. He’s making another ,” Joe said, whispering. “That’s it. I won’t be cornered like an animal. I can outrun him. I can.” “Don’t be dumb. Just hush up and hide in the woods, wait him out, like I’m gonna do.” “No way! Look. He’s parking. It’s gonna be light in a couple hours, and I need to be home well before that. My parents care if I come home at night.” “Eat shit and die, man.” “I’m getting my bike. I’ll walk it out, hugging close to the brush. Then, down the road a bit, I’ll start her up.” “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. I’m heading for cover and taking a nap.” Joe moved toward the woods as Thomas reached his bike. “See ya tomorrow.” “Yeah, assuming my pa doesn’t skin me,” Thomas replied. He walked the bike as slowly as his nerves let him, peering back at every shuffle of rock, just to be sure the police car was still stationary. “That’s gotta be about half a mile,” he said out loud softly, turning this time to gauge the distance. “It’s about an hour ’til sunup. I can’t waste any more time walking.” Thomas mounted the bike and pushed down hard on the starter. From behind he heard the shrill sound of sirens, and his stomach fell. “I can’t let them catch me,” he said, engaging the clutch. He pushed into second gear and let out the throttle, careening through the rock and dirt as his tires found the road. He knew the police car was following him. He still heard the sirens, but he didn’t

dare look back. “It’s gonna be the long way home,” he said, as he veered off road, putting his foot down to keep his balance as he skidded toward the forest dirt path he knew so well. The trees and underbrush made the bike trek difficult, but soon Thomas couldn’t hear the sirens any longer. Just short of the estimated hour travel time, he saw his family’s barn in the distance. He exhaled a deep sigh of relief, cut the engine, and dismounted the bike, while he looked at the sky, then back to the house. Pa will be up soon and wondering where I am, he thought. And I better be busy milking Bessie.

THOMAS STOWED THE bike, careful to park it in the back of the barn at the exact same angle as before. He ran his hand along the smooth olive-colored body of the Harley, pulling trapped twigs and leaves from his ride. Outside, he heard the familiar sound of the back door opening and slamming shut. “Son?” Thomas felt his heart beat in his throat as he moved into high gear. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead, even though he had already cooled down from his recent escapades. He grabbed the milking stool and pail, and parked them next to Bessie, realizing he only had seconds to come up with a reasonable explanation for being here with an empty pail. Grateful that he had thought to change his clothes before going out, he noticed a large tear in his pants leg as he pulled the stool over, swung his legs around, and sat down. Barking and a muted conversation, coupled with the heavy thud of Pa’s boots crunching as they hit the ground, meant he was approaching the door. Shep must have gotten out, Thomas thought. A few seconds later, he was face-to-face with his pa. “Thomas? Why didn’t you answer me?” “Hi, Pa. I didn’t hear you, sorry. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come on out and get started.” “Couldn’t sleep? You’re never early for chores.” He looked down at the empty bucket. “Doesn’t look like you’ve got much done. How long have you been out here? I’ve been awake in the house for a while, and I didn’t hear you come out.” Thomas met his father’s eyes and realized his pa didn’t know, not yet anyway. At this point Pa was just confused. He wanted a reasonable explanation. After all, Thomas wasn’t ever early. Then he felt a bulge in his back pocket and ed what he had stowed there and suppressed a grin. As he stood, he reached around and pulled out his Buck Rogers comic book he had been reading before his ride and handed it to his father. Kicking intently at the straw around his feet, he continued. “I came out here a few hours ago to read since I couldn’t sleep.” Glancing up, Thomas waited for the moment of truth, gauging his pa’s reaction. “Silly. What a waste of time.”

Relieved, Thomas exhaled, not realizing he had been holding his breath. “It relaxes me.” “You could read lots of real books…books that might further your education, books where you might actually learn something,” he said pointedly, returning the comic book with a look of disgust. Before Thomas could respond, he watched as his pa wrinkled his nose and turned to the side. “What’s that smell? Is it gas?” Thomas froze, unsure how to deflect his pa’s latest revelation. “I don’t smell anything,” Thomas added, watching as his pa moved to the back of the barn toward the bike. No, no, no. Don’t touch the bike. The engine might still be warm, Thomas thought. No… “Did we somehow spill gas the other day, while we were working on the transmission?” “Yes, that’s it. We did,” he answered a little too energetically, surprising his father, who turned around. Thomas felt his legs go weak and reached out to Bessie to steady himself. “What’s wrong, son?” “Just tired, I guess. I should have been in my bed sleeping last night,” he said, being totally honest for the moment. “That’s true, but you’re not getting out of chores that easy. And what’s that you have on? Torn pants and a T-shirt? No jacket? You came out here like that this morning? It’s cold this morning, son,” he said, shaking his head. Relieved the focus had turned away from the bike, he said sheepishly, “Yes, Pa.” “Go back inside and grab a jacket, and come right back out—and hustle. There’s work to be done, and I’ll not have you getting sick.” “Yes, Pa. I’ll be right back.”

I’m only a farmhand to him, Thomas thought, as he walked to the house. The monotony of this place will surely kill me eventually, just the same as if someone pulled a trigger and shot me dead on the spot. This is just another morning, like all the other endless mornings I’ve endured up to this day. I’m free labor—a shitshoveler, more or less. As he opened the back door, his senses came alive, greeted with the familiar aromas of freshly baked biscuits, frying sausage, and strong coffee. The kitchen stove warmed him as he moved through the room. “Thomas, I didn’t hear you go out.” “Hi, Ma. I went out early, just coming back for my jacket. Colder than I thought,” Thomas added, as he tramped up the stairs. In his room, Thomas picked up a thermal shirt and pulled it over his head, then added a jacket. He returned through the kitchen, and his stomach growled. “Smells good, Ma,” he said, pulling his collar in closer around his neck before disappearing back outside. He and his pa typically worked silently most mornings, but, as Thomas opened the barn door again and made his way to Bessie, he thought about possibly talking to his pa, maybe due to the boldness of the morning already. He decided to test the waters. “Pa?” “Yes, son.” “I’ll be sixteen soon, and I’ve been thinking about my future.” “Yes, good to know, and?” “And…and—” “Spit it out.” “Well…I’m not sure I’m cut out for farming, day in and day out.” There—he said it. Unable to look at his father, he studied bits of stray grass, waiting for a response in the awkward silence.

“Is that so? What are you cut out for then? You’ve been working on this farm ever since you could walk. It’s what you know.” “It’s what you know, Pa,” Thomas corrected. James turned toward his son, as he leaned on a shovel. “Sit for a minute, son.” Shocked that his pa might actually hear him out, Thomas pulled up the milking stool and took a seat. “Your ma and I have talked and thought you might be ready to handle more responsibility this season—learning the buying and selling piece of what we do. You’ve always been involved in the day-to-day planting, tilling, harvesting. Now it’s time to know more, do more. You can see how we actually make a living at farming. You can see the potential. Now you can understand it.” Thomas sat completely still, afraid to speak, not wanting something awful to come out of his mouth, even though the words were on the tip of his tongue, fighting to be set free. “Son, did you hear me? We think you’re ready. We can start soon. There is so much more to learn,” he said, his excitement evident. “One more year of school and then you could spend more of your day here and less time cooped up in the schoolhouse.” “Pa, I…I…don’t know what to say,” Thomas said. He paused, his pa’s eyes boring a hole into him, took a deep breath, and decided to jump in with both feet. “I want to see the world, Pa. I want to learn about the world, not just this one little piece of dirt—maybe the service.” “Piece of dirt?” Pa said, spitting out the last word. “This piece of dirt is keeping our family afloat, with food on the table and clothes on your back,” he said, as his eyes grew bigger and bigger with each word. Here it comes, Thomas thought. “The service? Are you ready to fight for our country, give your life for our country? Explain to me how you’re ready for that when you spend your days reading comic strips?”

Thomas listened as his pa’s voice broke, and his eyes got misty. “Pa?” James picked up the shovel he’d been leaning on, turned, and threw it against the side of the barn, sending an echo throughout the shed. Shep darted out the door, and Bessie mooed, nervously shifting her hind legs. “Go, son. Go take care of the chickens. I’ll finish up in here.” “But, Pa, I didn’t…” “Go. Now.” Thomas left the barn and quietly shut the door, petting Shep, who sat waiting for him outside the barn. “Come on, boy. Come with me. It’s okay.” If the only way out is to enlist, I’ll up and leave one night, and make it happen, he thought. Even with the war over, they still needed men. He heard the spiel in his head repeating over and over. Defend your country. Your friends are fighting. Why aren’t you? Thomas walked into the chicken coop, ducking his head, and the hens flew excitedly from their nests. One by one he picked up the warm eggs and placed them in the wire basket. His empty stomach growled loudly. It had already been a long morning. His thoughts turned once again to food, and he picked up the pace. As he left the henhouse, he saw his pa out in the field, tending to the cattle and sheep. I wonder if he actually enjoys this life? Back in the kitchen he handed off the eggs to his ma. “Perfect. I’ll fry these up in a jiffy,” she said, smiling at him. By this time, he did feel weak from hunger, and the lack of sleep was catching up with him too. It’ll be a long day, he thought, as he moved to the sink to wash up. Mary, his older sister, set the biscuits on the table in front of him. “You were up mighty early this morning,” she said, with a smile settling on her face. Thomas threw a sideways glance her way. Did she know? She’s so bossy. Mary was the eldest and, at seventeen, very mature. Many young men found her

attractive with her tall, slender stature and shoulder-length brown hair. She was actually quite stunning, when she wasn’t telling on Thomas. His little sister, Belle, scooted into the chair next to him and attempted to push herself in. Thomas laughed, happier to focus on her. She had shorter blond hair, with curls that bobbled as she ran. And, at age eight, she idolized both her older siblings, but especially Thomas, since they were closer in age. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said, as he moved her chair closer to the table. All present and ed for, almost. Breakfast would not begin without his pa seated at the head of the table. Thomas’s mouth watered as he squirmed in his seat, his eyes locked on the warm food in front of him. He willed his pa to walk through the back door. He was tempted to sneak a bite when the door swung open, and his pa walked through the door. Pa washed his hands and took his seat, while Ma finished frying the freshly gathered eggs. Once she brought the rest of the eggs to the table and seated herself, he closed his eyes and said grace, which meant the eating could begin. Someday I will miss this but not today…not today, he murmured again, as he dug into his first helping of biscuits and hot gravy.

AS THOMAS FINISHED his breakfast, he thought about the day ahead. School is really for those who have nothing better to do with their day, and there is always something better to do. Figurin’, readin’, and writin’ are important to get along in this world—he knew that, especially since he had big plans to see the world, and escape the farm. He knew all that school stuff now, so what was the point of continuing? It had served its purpose. Belle, his baby sister, interrupted his thoughts as she prodded, “Whatcha thinking?” Thomas paused. “I’m thinking you better finish breakfast now. It’s your turn to help with the dishes, and you’ll get left behind if you don’t hurry.” Thomas loved Belle dearly and would do anything for her, even though she could be a pest a lot of the time. “You better not,” she said, jumping from her seat to start her chores. “Oh, just hurry up,” Thomas spat out. “You are slow as molasses.” With that comment, Ma looked at Belle. “Belle, dear, Thomas isn’t ready to go yet either,” she said, giving him a stern look. “Move it along, Belle. You will be finished in no time. And, Thomas, you have one extra chore this morning. Take these scraps and coffee grounds to the compost heap, and make sure you turn the pile as well.” “Yes, ma’am,” Thomas replied, glaring at Belle from the corner of his eye. From her contented smile, he knew she thought she had bested him. Dishes and composting now done, Thomas and Belle stood by the door. Where was Mary? Thomas hadn’t seen her since breakfast, come to think of it. Belle was special, despite getting on his nerves occasionally. Unlike the majority of younger children, she was comfortable just to be. She could say more with a glance or a touch than most people could with a mouthful of words. Even at age eight she was good at making people feel comfortable. Mary, on the other hand, was tightly wound, especially this morning as she rounded the corner of the hallway. Her eyes darted to the door, where Thomas and Belle stood ready to go,

then she quickly whispered to Ma. Hushed tones ensued. Something’s up. “Go on to school, Thomas and Belle. Mary has some special errands to complete today and will not be going with you.” “Is she sick?” Belle chimed in. “No, dear, not at all. Now run along, or you both will be late to school, and you know how Mrs. Martin loathes tardiness.” Thomas took another cursory glance at his older sister, as the whispered tones between her and Ma continued. If she is telling on me, I’ll never forgive her. He kept watching. Something was definitely not right. He noticed her shoulders sagged, like she had the weight of the world resting on her. What could it be? Thomas thought as he opened the door. With one foot out the door, he turned back once more. “Bye, Ma.” “Bye, dear. You both have a good day.” Thomas set a rapid pace, ready to put some distance between himself and Mary. “Hurry along now, Belle. You will be warmer if you walk quickly.” “Yes, Thomas,” she replied dutifully. With the sun peeking through the clouds, Thomas saw the sky come alive with bursts of orange and yellow and muted blue tones, and he slowed. The hills ahead seemed isolated from the rest of the horizon, framed by the colors of the sun. The countryside was coming alive. Spring was just around the corner. But, after the argument with Pa this morning, all Thomas could think about was how the sky reminded him of a scene he was reading in his Dr. Modar of Saturn comic book, hidden away in his back pocket. It was only the last week of March, but with the arrival of spring would come much hard work on the farm: plowing, preparing the field, planting, and tending to crops. Thomas grinned, thinking of one bright spot—school would be over for him shortly. Pa would need him in the field, and, as with all young men his age, he would leave school early for the summer break to assist with chores on the

farm. He wasn’t quite sure how many more seasons he would be around. Maybe only one. He had to get his plans together. And he needed a job. Those were difficult to come by; times were tough. Thomas had seen signs of stress between Ma and Pa, and Thomas guessed the source had to be lack of money. Lost in his thoughts, he looked up to find they had reached the school. “Go on in, Belle. I’ll see you here after school.” Belle cocked her head and looked at Thomas. “You’re not coming? Why not?” “I’ve got some things to do. No more questions.” “Okay, Thomas. See you later.” She skipped inside, her tight blond curls floating in the air as she moved. He heard the familiar sounds of school: kids playing and children laughing. Thomas took one step forward, then a tentative step back. His mind reeled with thoughts and concerns of the future, his future. He walked in the opposite direction from the way he had come, then walked faster, until he jogged at a steady pace away from the school yard. Thomas ran until his breath came in heaving bursts. It was good to be out, away. He felt the weight lift slightly from his shoulders, and, if only for a few hours, he could just be. Confusion clouded his mind, as all his looming decisions vied for space in his head. He reached down and grabbed a stick from the ground, then thrust his other hand in his pocket, feeling his way to his pocketknife. While he whittled, thoughts continued to flow as a jumbled mess while he attempted to organize them into two sides, pros and cons. Pros to staying just where I am? Well, there’s family. And it would make them all happy. Then there’s Pa. It is what he expects and has already planned for my future. I guess I’d learn something in the process, if I ever had to actually farm for a living. But really I think I could get by with the knowledge I have today on the subject actually. That’s about it for the pros. Cons? I am miserable with farm life, and I only see that getting worse. Also how can I travel the world when I’m tied to a farm, with my schedule set and dependent on the sun, wind, and rain? No, I want to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. Ma and Pa would say that sounds kinda selfish and immature. I

know they would. But I want my life to be my own and not determined by someone else. And another big con: I don’t have the money to follow my dreams yet, and that is something I definitely need. It always comes back to money. What would Buck Rogers do? He would never be in this situation; he is only the best action hero ever. Against all odds he always wins. Will I ever see any action? He considered his threat to the service. It just might be the only option. He could prove his pa wrong. He was ready. He dug into his pocket again and pulled out several Buck Rogers comic books. Thomas turned the pages, rereading each word that he had already devoured. He poured over the worn pages and imagined his life once again as the Buck Rogers. Wouldn’t life be grand to always win and never to have decisions made for you and to always get the glory? Someday my life will be grand, and someday I will have the glory, if only I could figure out the first step. Thomas absentmindedly groped for his slingshot as he watched a squirrel climb a distant tree. A smooth rock nearby caught his eye. He aimed and fired off a quick shot. It zoomed past the animal to the far right, and it scurried away. He collected a few more perfectly sized rocks close to the stream and shoved them in his pocket, then knelt to take a drink. Thomas paused and turned toward the sound of the disturbance around him, diving behind the nearest tree. “Thomas? Are you out here?” Thomas poked his head out to see his friend Joe with his hands on his knees, panting, catching his breath. Thomas stepped from his hiding place. “Yeah, I’m here. Why are you here?” “Just…one…second…and…I’ll tell you,” he said, struggling to speak. “Not sure what you…see…in this place.” Thomas laughed as he watched his friend’s heaving breaths slow and normalize once again. “Sure you do. It’s my place, and no one knows about it.” Joe met Thomas’s eyes, and his face transformed into a broad ear-to-ear grin. “No one but me.”

“Yeah. You can’t get enough of me, I know. I barely escaped a shitload of trouble this morning, being out with you. My pa hates me, and I’m skipping school. My day isn’t getting any better.” “Hey, you gotta it it was fun, just chilling, until we had company. Then watching you hightail it outta there was priceless,” he said, laughing uncontrollably. “Always glad to be of service. And you are here, why? You need to be at school learning stuff, idiot.” “Hey, I take offense to that. I’m a smart idiot.” Joe pulled out his lunch pail and set it between them. “Okay, and? Is it lunchtime? You came all the way out here to eat?” Joe threw up his hands in an exaggerated motion and rolled his eyes. “And you call me dumb… Open it.” Thomas grabbed the pail and flipped open the lid. Immediately his eyes got big as his jaw dropped, and the pail slipped from his fingers. “What have you done?” Joe looked back at Thomas, the spark of laughter gone from his eyes. “After our meeting last night I made some decisions. You forced me to take a hard look at myself. All we’ve been talking about for so long is about to come true. I’m not going back home. I’ve got a small bag behind the schoolhouse. We can leave tomorrow. I was going to tell you today at school, but, when you didn’t show up —” “Wait now,” Thomas interrupted. “Slow down. Where exactly did you get this?” Joe leaned down and picked up the pail and retrieved its contents. “I stole it. It’s my parents’ savings,” he said, as he arranged the bills in his hand for Thomas to get a closer look. “There must be hundreds of dollars there,” Thomas said. “Three hundred and seventy-eight to be exact,” Joe replied. Thomas stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair and paced. “I can’t use

your parents’ money,” he said. “It’s just not right.” Joe threw the money in the pail and closed the distance between them. “Hey, this was your idea, ? I’m just finally giving it wings so we can fly. You say you’re ready every day. You complain about your pa every day. Let’s just do it.” Thomas looked into the eyes of his friend who he had known as long as he could , as Joe silently pleaded with him. Thomas heard the desperation in Joe’s voice. Thomas broke away and continued to pace, then abruptly stopped and sat down on a large rock, staring into the distance, his knees bouncing nervously. Joe shook his head and went back to the forgotten pail. “You’re not coming are you? After all this, you’re gonna back out and leave me holding the bag.” Thomas raised his eyes and smiled at his lame joke. “You stupid dumb-shit,” he said, laughing. “Yes, I’m coming with you, on one condition.” Joe glanced up, a look of shock on his face. “No way. What is it?” “I’m not touching any of that money. I’ve got enough for a bus ticket at home. We can get outta town and decide where to from there. Agreed?” “We’ll play this any way you want,” Joe said, as he grasped Thomas in a bear hug. “I didn’t think you were gonna come,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Thomas pulled away and studied his friend’s face. “Hey, together forever, ?” “That was a long time ago,” Joe replied. “Besides, you need me, or you’d get hopelessly lost.” Joe nodded his head in agreement. “Sadly that’s a true statement.” “Let’s decide on a time to meet. I’ve suddenly got lots to do tonight,” Thomas said, energy bubbling just below the surface. “At 1:00 a.m. at the schoolhouse. Ma and Pa are away for the night, visiting my cousin, but, as I said, I’m not going home.”

“We’re doing it!” Thomas said, as they clasped arms. “See you at one.” Joe picked up the pail and flashed him a smile. “I just knew you wouldn’t let me down.” “Never. Now you focus on you. I’ve got to…” Thomas looked at the sun as it hung low in the sky. “Oh, no, Belle.” The excitement of his recent decisions left him. He wouldn’t be at school in time to meet his sister. Thomas set off in the direction he had come, hours ago now, at a fast run. Even with this new complication, he felt better about things. He would be free in a matter of hours. His mind raced in a hundred different directions as the adrenaline coursed through him. When he neared the school yard, he listened for familiar sounds of shouting and children playing. But he heard none of that, just silence. The school yard was empty, and Belle was not waiting for him. His mood shifted as he quickly went from excitement to worry, then dread. Thomas realized what would be waiting for him when he got home. His pace slowed to a walk. No way around this. He was in big trouble. Belle obviously started home without him. She was probably home now, recounting the story of him sending her into school without him. Thomas racked his brain to come up with an excuse. In spite of what was waiting for him at home, he actually felt better than he did this morning. Pa had basically ignored him, and now this would be their last confrontation. His hand found his comic books, and his fingers fanned the pages back and forth in his pocket. Someday I’ll have something to show for my hard work, something other than eggs, corn, or beans. My story may not be in a comic book, but I will find my own way, and, in my story, I’ll be the star.

JAMES STEWART LOOKED outside from his spot in the barn. By the position of the sun in the sky he judged it to be about 1:00 to 1:30 p.m., suppertime for sure. His day, thus far, had consisted of inventorying the equipment and supplies on hand for spring planting. All appeared to be in good working order, just a few maintenance chores here and there, easily taken care of. He mentally processed the annual planting cycle, as he did every year. He had been thinking for weeks that the time was close. A couple more weeks and we must be ready to plant our barley, beans, corns, oats, and hay, but the ground has to be prepared before that, and the time for that was now. James finished a few more items, checked them off his list, then went to the clipboard he kept on the wall to visualize his progress. All was in perfect order and on schedule. He was dependent on his son for help, and in a few weeks Thomas would be his for the spring and summer. James’s dependence on his son and his labor grew by the day. As Thomas grew older and stronger, he became a more valuable resource; James knew this to be true. He thought back on the recent conversation he had had with his son. It had been unsettling for them both. Thomas doesn’t know what he really wants, James thought. Young men needed strong guidance and lots of physical labor to keep their hands and minds busy. Thomas performed well enough in school, and James’s dear Elizabeth saw to it that the boy attended church—well, all of them. God, church, and family—these edicts helped a family function and ultimately made a country strong. These will see my son through as well. James closed the door to the barn and walked to the house. His thoughts turned to his wife, Elizabeth. Even now in 1947, times were still hard. But with the lean days of the Great Depression behind them, he felt confident about the days ahead. She deserved the best. She was an amazing woman and ran the house well, plus was a wonderful wife and mother. Hopefully this year’s crops would yield well, and they could buy some of the things they had put off for so long, with all the scrimping and saving just to make ends meet. He couldn’t help but smile as he opened the door and witnessed his wife busy with her day, gliding from one thing to the next, the kitchen humming with activity. “I hope something in this kitchen is ready for me. It all smells wonderful. I’m famished.” When Elizabeth heard him speak, she turned down the radio and showed him the pot of stew on the stove, ready and waiting for him. He kissed her on the cheek

and walked to the sink to wash up, while Elizabeth pulled the cornbread from the oven. Daffodils brightened the room, complementing the table already set for two, complete with cheery checkered napkins. She served two plates, as her husband sat down. After grace and a few hungry mouthfuls, James paused and looked up at Elizabeth. “We need to talk about Thomas,” James said, resolutely putting down his fork and clearing his throat. “Did you know—at fifteen years old—he’s been thinking of ing the army? With the preparing of the fields beginning any day now, I’ll expect a lot of him, and I need to know his head is in the right place.” “I feel him struggling,” Elizabeth said. “He’s not a man yet and still has many childish ways. I believe he is trying to make decisions about his future. He’s a little restless and distracted, but isn’t that normal for a boy of almost sixteen?” “I feel him struggling too. It’s called laziness and indecisiveness,” James said with a sarcastic tone. “This is where we need to take an even harder line.” He continued. “Damn it, Elizabeth, we need him here to make ends meet. He owes it to us. Without him we’ll be hiring some day-workers to help with the farm. It’s time for him to make a real contribution and have a stake in the process, carry some risk. He doesn’t even see the opportunity. That’s how closed-minded he is. We should bring him into the planning and all the processes necessary to bring crops to harvest. If he could just see it and grab it, it’s all within his reach. He has done most of the tasks, but, if he is to be a farmer, he needs to be exposed to all facets of crop growing—planning, planting, growth, harvest, and bringing the crops to market to sell. Don’t you feel he’s ready to take on more?”

ELIZABETH THOUGHT ABOUT Thomas. Her son at times seemed like a stranger. She realized this journey into manhood was not one she could participate in. James assured her that this was necessary for Thomas to realize his lot in life, and, through this process, he would emerge a confident, productive young man. She had acquiesced up to this point, deferring to the man she loved. Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of Thomas enlisting. She recalled the stories from friends whose sons didn’t return from the war. It had been a dark time. Even though her family hadn’t had much, they got by; they were all alive still. Elizabeth had listened intently to James, then reached out and took her husband’s hand in hers. “I do feel he’s capable and strong, but, James, he doesn’t want to farm. He could change his mind, yes, but you can see it in his eyes some days. He looks like a caged animal. After another year, what do we do? Keep him here against his will?” James picked up his dishes, took them to the counter, and threw them in the sink with a loud clatter. Elizabeth thought, What if their fears were confirmed, and Thomas, when cornered, actually runs away and enlists? What would happen next? Hopefully her instincts this time were wrong. The rift this would cause between father and son would be devastating to their relationship. James had never questioned that Thomas would follow in his father’s footsteps, and this year it seemed James wanted Thomas to invest more of himself, with James teaching his son more of what he knows about farming. She stood up and walked over to her husband, placing her hands on his back. She could feel the tightness of his muscles straining against his shirt, and, when he turned around, she saw that same tension in the deep lines cut into his face. “Maybe it’s a phase. He’s young and impulsive. Let’s give him a few days, and we’ll both talk to him again.” As she finished speaking, a wave of uneasiness flowed through her, and she felt a deepening sense of foreboding. Elizabeth turned her attention to the table, clearing the rest of the dishes. She tried to brush away the feeling, but, in her heart, she knew she didn’t believe it herself. “It will be all right.” She continued, assuring James. “Give it time.”

James shook his head in obvious exasperation, continuing on without missing a beat. “Why should we entertain his childish notions? What could he have to say of importance really, Elizabeth? He is almost sixteen and knows little of worldly things but what we have taught him. And he knows nothing of the horrors of war, yet he’s ready to jump into that blindly?” Elizabeth felt a chill rush over her, and she shivered again. This event would shape these two and their relationship far into the future, and her optimism for a positive outcome was dwindling. The men in this family seemed like two ships on very different voyages, and they were destined for a collision. A knock on the door interrupted them. Mrs. Martin?

THOMAS NEARED THE house and saw Pa on the porch, standing there, waiting. When he got closer, it became clear Pa was even madder than Thomas had anticipated. His high from before was gone, replaced with a growing fear. He felt like his boots were anchored to the ground as he covered the last few yards to the porch steps with difficulty. Slowly making his way up, he avoided his pa’s glare. He had no doubt of Pa’s intentions. His face was red, the muscles there taut, and they spasmed as he spoke. “Son, I’m disappointed with you. Take a walk to the barn.” Thomas knew what was in store for him there. It wasn’t a place his pa took him when he was interested in his side of the story. Thomas sighed heavily and braced for the worst.

JAMES PUSHED THE barn door closed with a thud, then looked at his son as he walked to the opposite side of the barn with his head low. He petted Bessie, then lifted his eyes to meet his pa’s unwavering gaze. “Thomas, I don’t understand you. Your little sister, she is your responsibility. How could you leave her? What were you thinking? Are you thinking at all?” James said, his voice growing louder with each syllable. “Mrs. Martin brought Belle home and told us how you weren’t at school today. Where were you? And what was so important to leave your sister behind? Discipline is a trait valued by the world, son. And we instill this in you every day. Where was it today? Son? I’m waiting!” I know you don’t understand me, Thomas thought. No one does. “Pa, I just needed time. I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t stand to be behind those walls today.” Thomas glanced up to read his pa’s face. A quiet, seething anger ed there, unlike anything he had seen before. “Pa, I know I messed up,” he said. “I meant to be back to the school in time to walk Belle home. Time just…got away from me. You see I had important…” “Enough!” Pa said, waving his arms, silencing him. “Nothing is more important than your family and certainly not an afternoon stroll through the countryside. our conversation this morning? What do you think they do to soldiers who leave their posts? It’s called desertion,” he said, not waiting for a reply but pausing to take a breath before plowing in again. “You would be shot on sight. And to think I was ready to give you more responsibility on the farm. I thought you were ready… You’ve proved me wrong, son. Your actions were irresponsible and childish,” he said, shaking his head. “I expected more from you.” Thomas met the cold stare of his father, who he didn’t feel like he knew anymore. His pa’s nostrils flared, and his breathing was loud and aggravated. It reminded Thomas of an animal about to charge. He wished he could disappear into the wood of the barn he was huddled against. “Pa, I…wait.” “There is nothing you can say that will make this right.” Thomas opened his mouth to speak, wanting to scream what was on his mind. But, knowing this wasn’t the time, closed it without saying another word. Would there ever be a time? he thought.

“You can expect a bigger share of the chores. If you have time to spend half your day doing absolutely nothing, then you have too much time!” Pa said, his voice forming a streaming hiss. “I’ve been too easy on you. That’s fixin’ to change. You’ll be a man soon, with adult responsibilities, and, like it or not, you need to take your place in this man’s world.” “Pa, will you let me…” “No. The time for talk is done.” Thomas looked up at his pa again and knew he was beyond reason. His gaze was fixed, and his jaws clenched, as he stared unflinchingly at Thomas. Fear and dread paralyzed him as his feet turned to lead. He heard the belt whipped free from his pa’s tros in one swift motion. Thomas couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust on his pa’s face, but his focus still remained glued there. His shoulders sagging, Thomas finally turned his face toward the wall, his fingers forming a tight fist, as he inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the first blow. One. Thomas yelled as the first one landed on his lower back with a loud quick snap. Two. Shuffling his feet, Thomas adjusted his position as he anticipated the next hit. Three. Then, in quick succession, four. He cringed and gritted his teeth as he struggled to catch his breath. He fought back tears as his fists pounded the wall, then slowly slid down as number five found its mark, and then, he quit counting. The stinging and burning consumed his entire backside. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. His father stopped after what seemed like an eternity, even he was out of breath from the exertion. Thomas panted as he gasped for air, leaning into the wall, grateful for its , not wanting to turn and face his pa again. “Now go inside and up to your room,” Pa ordered, still breathing heavily. “Your mother will bring you leftovers later tonight. You’ll not eat with the family this evening.” Pa left without another word, closing the barn door. In the silence of the barn, Thomas screamed as he smashed his fist through the wall and crashed in a crumpled heap to the ground. The tears began again, and he impatiently wiped them away, his breath still coming in short bursts, his chest heaving. I can’t stay in this house any longer. I won’t. He began the slow, painful walk across the barn, then to the house. Every inch of his body hurt, and he knew tomorrow’s pain would be worse. His father would never understand. This

is the last whipping I’ll ever receive without fighting back, he vowed. And tomorrow I’ll be gone. Thomas caught his sisters’ glances as he entered the house. Mary averted her gaze, and Belle sat curled in the corner, whimpering. His eyes brimming, another wave of unshed tears fell, and his vision clouded again. Belle was upset, but this wasn’t her fault. The issues were much bigger than today. Thomas made his way up the steps. Slowly he closed the door on this day that had quickly gone so wrong. In the closet Thomas found his small travel bag. From his drawers he pulled out three shirts, a pair of pants, and underwear, and set to work packing. A few minutes later, he had finished with the small items he wanted to take with him, then surveyed his room for anything he may have forgotten. So much time spent here and this is how it ends. He gathered his comic books from the shelf above his bed and, from his nightstand, pulled out all the cash he had in the world and placed it in the bag, then zipped it shut. He set his alarm clock for twelve midnight. The pain of cuts large and small stung him when he pulled away his torn shirt. Pieces of cloth clung to his skin from the blood gathering there. Muscles he didn’t even know he had screamed at him in agony as he undressed and slipped into his bedclothes. He pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed, lying on his stomach. Not even the least bit hungry, he shut his eyes and tried to push from his mind the recurring scene in the barn. Despite the effort, every time his eyes closed, vivid pictures came alive in his head, taking on a life of their own. Sometime later the door opened, and he heard his ma place food on the bedside table. He felt a light kiss on his forehead and a gentle pat on the shoulder. She then reached around and quickly dressed the wound on his hand. “I love you,” she whispered, hugging him lightly as she kissed him on the cheek. Thomas felt his face, now wet, not from his own tears this time but his ma’s. He buried his head under the covers, relieved to think no more, and gave in to the exhaustion that overtook him.

THOMAS SLEPT DEEPLY at first and happily so, a welcome escape from the previous day’s escapades. He was glad in an odd way that he had had a confrontation with Pa, the final straw; now it was decided. Plans were in place, and Thomas would be leaving later tonight. He pulled himself into the conscious world. His legs stretched the length of the bed and hit an obstacle. Thomas perched himself up on one elbow, and he saw Belle huddled at the bottom of the bed, curled into a little ball, fast asleep. She really is just the sweetest sister ever. I’ll miss her when I’m gone. Thomas squinted to see the clock on the night table. He picked up the clock to confirm the time. Just 11:00 p.m. Why am I awake? He put the clock back on the table, and his hand hit something rough and hard. In the dim light, he held it up and studied it with his hands, turning it over between his fingers to feel all the angles. He looked again toward the bottom of the bed and smiled. This must be from Belle. A rock. Surely a special treasure. The perfect weight to fit in one hand and one hand could enclose it. Even in the darkness of the room Thomas could see reddish tones to the stone and could make out the shape of a crude heart with his fingers. A fiercely protective instinct ignited within him as he thought of his little sister. She must have really felt sorry for me. Thomas reached down and pulled a blanket over her shoulders, wincing as his muscles stretched, sending pain through his extremities again. He watched as Belle breathed in and out in peaceful even breaths and thought about how wrong he was for leaving her yesterday. Pa was right, Thomas itted to himself. What kind of brother am I? Even at eight years old she knows what it means to be loyal. Thomas reached for his tros to stow the rock in his pocket, and his knees shook. He stood as a chill overtook him, and he shivered. A wave of nausea came over him next, and he began to sweat. He clumsily sat back down. Something isn’t right. Why can’t I shake this cloud from my mind? Thomas rose with thoughts of going to the bathroom, then back to bed for another hour before leaving. He stood up again and took an unsteady step. His body propelled forward, but his feet didn’t keep pace. Thomas reached for the bed to steady himself, just a little too late. His knees buckled, and he collapsed loudly to the floor, hitting his head on the bed as he fell. His legs and backside throbbed from the whipping earlier tonight

as expected, but this was different. Thomas gathered his stray limbs back under him, unsure why they had a mind of their own. Dazed, he sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. “Why do I feel so awful?” he voiced this time. Belle’s head peeked over the side of the bed. “Thomas, what’s wrong? Did you fall outta bed?” “Belle, something’s not right. Go get Ma,” he said, as his teeth chattered uncontrollably. Belle rushed quickly down the stairs and a short time later reappeared with Ma by her side. “Thomas?” Ma asked. Thomas blinked, opening his eyes. “Ma, my legs, they feel shaky. And my arms too. I don’t feel right, and I’m hot.” Elizabeth faced Belle. “Belle, dear, you run along while I tend to Thomas. He will be fine, and you need your sleep too. Now, on you go, back to your own room. I will be down shortly.” Belle looked tentatively from her mother to Thomas, her eyes wide and questioning, then she began her slow descent from the bed. “I’m okay, Belle, really,” he added, when actually he was quite sure of the opposite. Thomas had heard that tone before in his mother’s voice, something he was rarely a party to, and his heart beat a little faster. “You do seem to have a fever,” Ma said. “Let me help you back into bed, and let’s cover you up. I’ll bring you some water. I’m sure this is nothing a day of rest won’t cure.” A day, he thought. I don’t have a day. But he didn’t have the strength to argue. Thomas climbed slowly back into bed, leaning on his mother for to reach the side and then rolling in the rest of the way. Exhausted by the effort, he looked at his ma, whose eyes wouldn’t meet his own. His body trembled and

shuddered as his ma piled on blankets, but no amount of warmth stopped the constant shivering. Helpless to control his ailing body, he fell into an uneasy, troubled sleep, struggling as he alternated between spells of shivering and sweating. Thomas twisted and turned, dreaming of hospital beds where rows and rows of people slept, all dressed in uniform. He saw himself asleep in one of those beds and watched as his family pranced by, waving to him, laughing as they left him there. He screamed, but his mouth didn’t move, and no words came out, yet he heard his own agonizing cry. In the recesses of his mind, he listened to the wordless chants of his sick roommates, ing in the terrorizing wail.

A PARALYZING FEAR threatened to engulf her as Elizabeth soothed Belle back to sleep and woke James. Just too horrible to be true, she thought. Not this. She wouldn’t say the word; it was too horrible. Her mind raced on. There had to be another answer. Sure, special hospitals existed for people with the disease, but it had no cure. “And, if Thomas has it, we have all been exposed as well,” she said, exasperated. As James dressed quickly to get the doctor, she reached for him. Elizabeth saw the regret in his eyes and the sorrow buried in the lines of his face. Tonight’s earlier confrontation and what had transpired between him and his son would not soon be forgotten. She could see he felt horrible, even though the sickness had nothing to do with that. She clung to him in the coolness of the night, each pulling strength from the other. “You better go, so you can get back faster,” Elizabeth said. James grabbed his jacket to head out the door, then he stopped to hug his wife again and whispered. “Let’s not take this all on right now. We’re putting the cart before the horse. Try not to worry. Let the doc examine him, then we’ll know more.” She silently nodded, worry, nevertheless, filling every fiber of her being. But she managed a small smile as he left for town and for the doctor who would bring much-needed answers.

THOMAS OPENED HIS eyes and took in his pristine environment—all white everywhere. The walls, the sheets, the bed, even the people were completely dressed in white. It was still hard to get used to, even after being here for several weeks. The doctor says I’m one of the lucky ones, he thought, but how could having polio and being fitted for braces be lucky? He knew his parents would be here soon, for the fitting appointment, so Thomas closed his eyes for the moment and gave in to the exhaustion, which was still so much a part of his waking life. Thomas only ed bits and pieces of the entire first week at the hospital, as he had drifted in and out of consciousness. He couldn’t much of the following weeks either. He had felt isolated and afraid, and even his parents were only allowed a few minutes of visiting time each day. As a result, he spent the majority of his time alone. Thomas endured day after day of a drug-induced sleep and dreamed peacefully, always the same recurring dream of people calling his name repeatedly. The weeks crawled by, filled with the blur of doctors and nurses, and snippets of hushed conversations that he wasn’t allowed to hear as they came and went, dispensing medicines and therapy to his diseased body. After a soft knock on the door, the doctor opened it and entered. Then Thomas’s parents followed the doctor in quick succession. “Hi, Thomas. How are you this morning?” Ma said, as she surveyed him from top to bottom. “I’m okay, Ma.” “Son, can we have a talk?” the doctor asked, approaching the bed with Thomas’s parents at his side. Thomas nodded. “All right, shoot.” Even talking was tiring. And his eyelids felt like they were made of lead. He struggled to open them multiple times as he tried to tune into what the doctor had to say. But, as the doctor spoke, Thomas felt himself fading. His body was still already, but now his mind just shut down. Finally he couldn’t fight it any longer. In the silence, he heard his name called. Then again, over and over. Thomas homed in on the voice. Not a family member. Not a familiar voice at all. It was no one he knew; he struggled to make out the words that came to him as a garbled random conversation but yet had a rhythm, almost songlike. The activity

in his head lulled him into a peaceful limbo that felt comfortable and safe. And here he resided. Thomas willed his eyelids to open, and he saw his ma in the chair, rocking as she sewed. “Hi, Ma. Where did the doctor go?” “Hello there, honey,” she said, immediately setting aside her sewing and coming to his side. She smiled, grabbing his hand and softly squeezing it. “He’s come and gone several times. You have been completely out of it for two days.” “Two days? How could that be? I closed my eyes for a few minutes. That’s all I .” Thomas felt a shiver as panic took over. “What has happened to me?” “Calm down, sweetheart. The doctor said this can happen in some cases. It’s just your body trying to recover, heal, and conserve energy. As you regain your strength, these…lapses won’t happen as frequently. The good thing is, you’re on the road to recovery. The infection is now dormant, the doctors said, and your muscles will recover with time and special exercises.” Ma stopped momentarily and studied her son, then placed a hand on his cheek. Seemingly satisfied, she continued. “Your sisters miss you so much. Three weeks is such a long time, and you know they haven’t been allowed to see you. They have been so worried, but we thought it best that they not come here. And the most wonderful part is,” she said, as she paused in anticipation, “you will be home in two days as long as the braces for your legs fit as they should.” Thomas looked away, fighting the tears welling up inside. Yes, lucky. I know, everyone keeps reminding me but braces…? Funny, I don’t feel lucky. “Did the doctor say how long I would have to wear those…braces? I don’t much about what he said.” “No, Thomas,” Ma replied as she sat on the bed. “We don’t know that just yet. But, as your muscles get stronger over time, we’ll know much more.” Not trusting himself to look directly at his mother as he spoke, he continued. “That seems like an answer doctors say when they don’t know anything.” Thomas quietly stifled a sob. “I don’t want to be a cripple, Ma. And I’m really scared.”

Ma’s voice was calm and reassuring when she spoke next. “Thomas, you’re here and alive, and you are one of the lucky ones! You will still have some effects from the disease, but you will get your strength back. The weakness will eventually subside, and you will live a normal life.” Thomas felt his ma’s warm embrace as his tears flowed that he didn’t try to stop. Rocking back and forth, he finally accepted his fate. And, knowingly this time, he let himself drift to sleep. “Ma,” Thomas whispered, “thanks for being here.” “Where else would I be?” “Night, Ma.” “Night, Thomas. Sweet dreams.” Thomas slept soundly that night and woke with the dawn. He knew the only way out was to get those contraptions on his legs. His energy returned. Thomas felt hopeful for the first time in weeks, and he was anxious to get the fitting done and over with. The sooner, the better. He glanced to the bedside table and noticed his comic books. Oh, I’ve missed these, he thought, as he grabbed one and slowly caught up on the latest. He combed through the pages, absorbing every word. A picture caught his eye, and he stared, astonished at its detail. Here was his hero, Buck Rogers, outfitted for space, and what was that on his boots? Yes, if one looked closely, his boots appeared to be outlined in metal or some form of brace. Thomas smiled. This is a sign. A sign things will get better. A sign from my hero that I can do great things. His parents opened the door. “Thomas, you’re awake. How are you feeling this morning?” Ma asked. “Better, Ma. Really I am. Let’s get this brace thing finished so I can go home. I leave tomorrow, right?” His parents’ gazes locked, and they shared a smile. “Yes, the doctor feels you can go home tomorrow as long as you can show them some initial progress with the brace,” Ma said. “Let’s go, Ma, Pa. I’m ready,” Thomas said energetically. “I’m busting outta this place tomorrow.”

Thomas laughed, feeling a little silly, but, as he watched his parents, he saw the proudest look he had seen there in a long time, and it was for him, just for him.

BELLE TIPTOED UPSTAIRS quietly so she didn’t wake Thomas. She paused, hand on the door frame as she peered around the corner. “Thomas…? Thomas, you awake?” she whispered. “Yeah. Of course I am. Come on in, squirt.” “Ma said you just finished up some exercises. You resting now? Did they hurt you?” Belle asked tentatively. “No, I’m fine. Just a little sore, but I’m getting stronger. I can tell.” “That’s good, Thomas. Can I come sit with you?” “Sure, I’m just reading my comics for a while.” “Maybe we could play cards?” Belle beamed. Thomas smiled. She really was enjoying learning to “play” cards. They had spent a lot of time together, so Thomas had taught Belle a few card games. She already knew Go Fish. Now she was learning War and Rummy. “Okay,” Thomas said, as he reached for the cards on the bedside table. “Let’s play War.” As he grabbed the cards, Thomas noticed his special rock, sitting by the lamp. “Belle, you never told me where you found this rock. And what makes it special to you?” he asked. “It’s really neat and kinda shaped like a heart. It even looks reddish.” Bell shifted in her spot on the bed. “Oh, I found it by the creek. You know, on the way to school. It was close to the edge, and the water flowing over it in the sun made it look really beautiful.” Belle’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she spoke, then her face fell as she looked down. “It was really beautiful, Thomas. But something happened after I picked it up. I was flipping it over in my hands, to see the whole thing. I could make out the shape and red color, but it was still so slippery, it fell and hit another rock at my feet and broke in half.” Thomas saw Belle’s eyes fill with tears. He didn’t realize this special rock had such a story. “But, Belle, it is still pretty. Look.” Thomas showed her the rock she had given him weeks ago.

“Yes, yes. I know. But that’s not everything, Thomas. See?” Visibly frustrated with herself, Belle dug into her own pocket and pulled out another rock. It was different but the same. Thomas reached for it and realized he held the mirror image of his rock. And it had broken in half. He took his rock and Belle’s, and fitted them together. Now he understood. It formed a perfect heart. The rock, now whole, looked much more like a heart, rounded and smooth with the noticeable V in the top center. Indeed almost faultless. “Belle, don’t be upset. You never told me the rock you gave me had a companion. This is really neat. Two hearts made from one. I love it, and it’s even more special knowing that you have half.” Belle’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Thomas. “I thought you might be mad if you knew I gave you a broken rock. But I loved it so much that I wanted you to have it. When it broke, I was really sad. But I still wanted you to have it, so you would know I loved you always,” she said, beaming back at him. He was touched and thought carefully before speaking again. “You know, in a way these two pieces of one rock bind us together. I mean, we’re family already, but this is deeper, special. I’ll keep it with me all the time. I’ve never had anything quite like this.” Belle grinned from ear to ear, seeing that Thomas was happy, happier than he had been in weeks, all because of something she had done. She reached over and hugged her brother until he squirmed. Now they had something that the two of them shared, theirs alone. “You ready for cards?” Thomas asked. “Sure,” Belle replied, “and maybe I’ll even win this one.” “I doubt it, but you can try.” Thomas chuckled. As they played, Thomas thought of his little sister, watching her as she dived into the game, so focused, intent on winning. We do truly have a connection. She is a special child, and seems to know what people need and how to comfort them. She instinctively realizes when people are in pain and works to ease that pain. And she has taken away part of mine. Thomas felt a strange sensation. He looked over at his sister, still happily playing

with her cards. His mind started to cloud, and his head swam, while he looked to Belle, trying to focus. “Thomas, are you okay? You look funny.” Thomas glanced at the deck of cards, and they faded in and out as his vision blacked out. Thomas was taken aback and shook his head side to side to clear this mind. “No, Belle, can we finish later? I’m kinda tired all a sudden. I’m gonna rest a while.” “Sure, I guess. Are you just doing this ’cause I’m finally winning?” Thomas shook his head. “No, keep the cards as they are. Just put them on the table. We’ll pick up where we left off.” “Okay. You betcha!” Belle slipped off the bed, carefully placing the two stacks of cards nearby, then bounded from the room with a wave and a smile. Thomas leaned back, as the wave of dizziness worsened. His arms and legs felt weak and unsteady. Where is this coming from? Thomas wondered. I haven’t felt like this since the hospital. Thomas let his eyes close, while familiar images flashed before his field of vision…and rows and rows of beds filled his mind. Where am I? Am I dreaming? Thomas thought. If so, why can’t I wake up? He scanned to the very end of the row and spotted again the vision of himself and others screaming out in agony. He strained to hear what was being said. Reading their lips, he made out one word. Run!

WHAT A DIFFERENCE a few weeks can make, Elizabeth thought. Thomas has polio and our family, while grateful for his ongoing recovery, is distraught. Elizabeth was worried about her only son, worried that he was continuing into a depression that began with the knowledge of his disease—or maybe even before. How life has changed, she thought, as she reviewed the most recent weeks. In the two weeks since Thomas’s homecoming, the family had settled into a “new” normal. This “normal” involved more medicines than any one person should have to endure, endless exercising of weakened limbs, continual doctor visits, and daily battles with Thomas to interact with the outside world. The school year now over for her son, not even that diversion was available for Thomas. Elizabeth’s face fell. She knew the doctors projected no less than a full year with the braces—most likely more—but she couldn’t bring herself to tell her son this, not in his current frame of mind. The treatment was promising, but to a fifteen-year-old, almost sixteen-year-old boy, a year was like a lifetime. In three short weeks Thomas would be sixteen. Elizabeth intended to make this a special day, filled with good food and a few select friends. She wanted to help him envision his future—one eventually without braces. His spirits must be kept high. He needs to see a path to his future. “Ma?” Mary interrupted. “You seemed a lifetime away.” Elizabeth picked up her coffee cup and took a sip from her drink that had gone cold. “Yes, I guess I was. It takes time to absorb all the changes our family has gone through,” she said, a smile pasted on her face. “I’m sorry, Ma. Would you like for me leave? I didn’t mean to intrude on your quiet time. You have so little.” “No, absolutely not. Sit down. I’d love to have some company,” she said, patting her firstborn daughter’s hand which had landed on her shoulder. “How about I warm up your coffee?” Mary said, as she moved to the stove to retrieve the coffeepot warming there. “Thank you, dear.” Mary poured for her mother, then grabbed a cup for herself, sliding in next to her.

“Mary, I don’t think I’ve properly thanked you for all you’ve done the past few weeks,” she said. “Your father and I have been preoccupied with your brother, and we’ve left everything here at home to fall on you. That was quite unfair.” “Ma, no. I feel so helpless. I just wish there were more I could do. You both have been where you needed to be.” “More? Mary, you have worked in town, also taking care of Belle, preparing food, and keeping this household going these past few weeks. I’m amazed at all you’ve accomplished,” Elizabeth said, her weary eyes filling with tears. “It’s okay to accept help, Ma. He’s my brother. I want to do all I can. Any small amount I earn, I’d like to go to help pay some of the hospital bills. It must be a lot of money, and my little bit won’t go far, but I want to contribute.” Elizabeth gasped as she held back her tears, and Mary enveloped her in a hug. “It means so much, Mary,” Elizabeth said softly. “These are not the things that should fill your head at this point in your life.” A kerthumpty, thump, thump, broke through their somber conversation. Mary and Elizabeth looked at each other with a smile. Elizabeth wiped her face as Belle came bounding down the stairs and appeared in the kitchen. “Hi, Ma.” “Hello, dear. How’s Thomas doing?” “Okay, I guess. He said he wanted to rest. I think he needs to get up and move around.” “He still does need a lot of rest. We must be patient,” Elizabeth explained. “Don’t you think it’d be good for him to come down and be with us, just for a little while?” Belle whined. Mary and Elizabeth exchanged a silent glance, and, after an imperceptible nod from Elizabeth, Mary rose. “Let me go check on him,” Mary said. “If he’s not asleep, I’ll help him down the

steps to the kitchen.” Belle smiled back. “Ma, can we fix a snack for him?” “Ah, so that is what this is all about. Sounds like the old Thomas. Did he put you up to this?” “No, Ma, honest,” she replied solemnly, wide-eyed as she shook her head. Elizabeth watched her youngest child intently. Her involvement in her son’s recovery had been every bit as real as the medicine he received. Belle’s devotion to Thomas was without exception and never-ending. She would do anything for him. No struggle too large, no problem too big to tackle. She was tenacious and a fighter on his behalf. “Absolutely we can,” Elizabeth said, as she rose to prepare some refreshments. “Come give me a hand, will you?” Belle jumped up, eager to help, and followed her to the counter to retrieve the cookies they had made the day before. It wasn’t long before they heard the clunk, screech, clunk, screech, that told them Thomas was headed down the stairs. The noise got louder as the two older siblings neared the kitchen. Elizabeth and Belle finished their preparations just as Mary appeared around the corner, her arm around Thomas’s waist, guiding him, shouldering part of his weight. “Where are your crutches?” Elizabeth asked. Thomas looked up, out of breath from descending the stairs. “I just thought I’d give this a try, since I was only coming to the kitchen. Maybe that was a bad idea,” he said sheepishly. “You’re okay,” Mary encouraged. From the doorway where they stood, Thomas looked at Mary, then to his Ma. “Let me walk to the table without you guys’ help. I can do it. I made it across the room upstairs.” Mary furrowed her brow and threw her mother a questioning glance.

“Okay, Thomas, go ahead,” Elizabeth said. “Mary will be right behind you. Just reach out to her if you need her.” With a clank and screech, clank and screech, Thomas smiled with satisfaction, completing the first step. Mary held out her hand tentatively, ready to catch him, as Belle smiled encouragingly, waiting for him at his chair. Elizabeth’s throat constricted, and she fought her tears, as she was thrown instantly back to Thomas’s first steps as a baby. Unprepared for the raw emotion, she stifled a sob, and Belle gazed toward her, a look of concern on her face. Mentally Elizabeth wasn’t able to process this picture. Would they have this far to go all over again, from infancy to teenage years? It put everything into perspective. Thomas navigated the final few steps across the kitchen to the table and plopped down, drained of energy. Mary, Belle, and Elizabeth let out a collective sigh of relief as Thomas landed safely in the chair. “See? What did I tell you?” Thomas said, as he gasped for breath, worn out from his short trek. “Great job, Thomas,” Elizabeth said. Belle clapped eagerly. “Now how about that food?” “I’m ready,” Thomas replied. “See? I’m getting stronger.” The foursome downed their cookies and coffee—milk for Belle—and Mary propped up Thomas’s legs on a chair as they continued talking. “Thomas, would you like us to bring your comic books or the cards down here, so you can continue your game with Belle?” Mary asked. “Uh-oh,” Belle said, as she turned her head toward Thomas. “Lookie there.” Elizabeth and Mary checked Thomas more closely—with his head back on the chair, his arms loosely hanging over the sides, his breath coming in even bursts. His eyes were shut. “Shhh. It’s all right. Let him rest there a little while. The short journey really took all his energy,” Elizabeth said.

“Pa would be proud,” Mary added, smiling. “Yes, he would be,” Elizabeth added, wondering, indeed, if it were true if these little victories would matter to him. Elizabeth was aware that her husband’s burden was heavy where Thomas was concerned. Their father-and-son confrontation earlier in the night before Thomas’s illness had presented itself had caused James endless days of heartbreak, but he was suffering quietly. She was keenly aware that her husband didn’t want to share this with her. However, James keeping this to himself caused both her son and husband to go down very similar paths, although also very divergent and confining as well. She worried that she was losing ground to a depression that threatened to isolate her from her husband. He had even taken on odd jobs in town on Saturdays, their only full day together, in order to their family and their growing debt. Elizabeth desperately prayed that they would find a way through this harrowing time. Her main focus and energy had to be on her children now. She and her husband had to take a backseat.

JAMES SURVEYED THE garden with a critical eye. From a distance he could see a carpet of green covering the field in straight lines that stood at attention, fighting the gentle breeze. It’s really progressing nicely. James ired the fruits of his labor, while he stood back and adjusted the wide brimmed hat low on his brow. The sun beat down on his sweat-drenched back, as he stooped down to check the tender young plant growth. Up and down again he walked, wearing down a path between the rows, determined to the health of his crops. Lots of measurable rain in late April after planting early in the month had helped the growth process along. All indications were that the corn, beans, barley, oats, and wheat would come in right on schedule, God willing. James worked in silence, tending and weeding the young seedlings. His thoughts turned to Thomas. This was not the spring I had planned. This was to be the year that Thomas and I worked as a team, the year that Thomas would really feel what it was like to do a man’s job and experience the ultimate reward when crops were brought to harvest. But this was not to be. Not this year anyhow. Hobbling around in braces in the field just wouldn’t work. He was simply too weak. It will take weeks and months of therapy for Thomas to be back up to speed for work on the farm, if ever. James glanced at his hired hand. He only hired this one for the day, just to help with the weeding and fertilizing on the schedule. The less help to pay for, the better, but, for plans to come to fruition, timing was everything, and every step must be true to the master schedule. To a farmer, proper planning and timing were everything. Those were under his control. Mother Nature and life-altering illnesses were not. In the heat of the noonday sun, James stopped for a drink of water that Elizabeth had brought to him earlier. He let out an exasperated sigh and wiped his forehead. As he shook his head back and forth, he struggled to concentrate on the tasks at hand. He could do nothing to make this better. I’m supposed to fix things. I make wrongs right, except in this case. He was still plagued by the looks from the hospital staff after Thomas had been itted that awful night, and they had seen the stripes on his back. His son had deserved to be punished. So why did he feel so repulsed by himself, so responsible for the whole horrible night?

He had not allowed himself to dwell too much on Thomas. It was too painful, too fresh. At first he was afraid for his son’s life. Then, as it became clearer that Thomas would pull through, James wondered what kind of life his son would have. Would he be confined to a bed, wheelchair, or some other apparatus? And what kind of life would that be? All their hopes and dreams for their son were destroyed. James shielded his eyes, while he turned his head toward the sky, squinting in the bright light. Gauging by the sun, the day is half over. He waved the dayworker to follow him to receive his supper. James walked to the house, making a mental checklist of the chores to complete before the end of the day. When he walked into the kitchen, his senses came alive with the blending of aromas and mingling of fresh ingredients that confirmed supper was ready. After a full morning of work in the field, he was famished. James washed up and took the plate and drink prepared for the day-worker to the porch where he sat, waiting, just as eager to eat, James knew, as himself. After filling the dayworker’s glass with water, James left the man to his supper and to relax in peace. James sat at the kitchen table and said grace, then ate his fill of the chicken casserole Elizabeth had made, slowly savoring each bite. In addition his plate was piled high with freshly made rolls and green beans seasoned to perfection. Cherry pie rounded out the meal. “How is Thomas today?” James asked, helping himself to a second piece of pie. “I had hoped maybe he would come down to supper.” “I believe he’s doing well,” Elizabeth responded. “He’s had a full morning of exercising and reading, then some cards with Belle. And I think he’s a bit tired at the moment. I’ll take him his supper in just a little while.” Belle chimed in, “He’s just exhausted,” she said, with a broad smile forming on her lips. James glanced at Elizabeth, expecting to see her enjoyment of Belle’s word choice, and knew he wasn’t mistaken when he saw worry on her face instead. Even though most people couldn’t see how the extra stress affected her, James knew his wife. She shouldered a lot of the burden for Thomas’s care, and his ups and downs affected her immensely. He longed for the normalcy of their prior life.

I want all my children at the table. And I want Mary home with the rest of us, not working constantly. I want to be enough to meet our family’s needs. Me and that’s all. That’s the way the Creator intended it to be. James let out a heavy sigh as his anxiety got the better of him. He felt truly powerless. His inner demons gnawed at him, threatening to consume his waking hours. Elizabeth’s voice roused him back to the conversation. “I saw Joe’s family in town yesterday as we did the shopping,” she said. “I think he’s planning to visit Thomas today. Won’t it be good for him to talk to one of his friends? It’s been more than a month since he has spent time with someone his own age, and, now that the doctors have said all danger is past with no more risk of exposure, I thought this would be great medicine for him. You do agree, don’t you, dear? He has missed his friends, especially Joe.” James nodded. “Yes, yes, I think that’s fine, although his time might be better spent on his exercises.” James paused. “Maybe, Elizabeth, if Joe could get him out of the house and in the fresh air, possibly on the porch or even for a short walk, that might really do him some good after all.” “That’s a great idea, James. We’ll try it. Outside it is. They won’t be far at all, and I’ll be close at hand. He’ll be within my vision at all times. Let’s see how Thomas feels about it.” “I’m back to work, Elizabeth,” James said with a forced cheerfulness and a quick kiss to her cheek. Hopefully seeing his friend would do his son some good, but, when it came down to it, his son needed the will to fight his way back to full health. And ultimately that was a fight that Thomas would do alone. Anything less than that would not cut it.

THOMAS HEARD A knock at the door. He dreaded Joe’s visit. His ma told him how good it would be for him. Ugh. What a buncha bull. It’ll be the last straw if my best friend treats me like I have the plague. Thomas loudly navigated the unending trek down the stairs. Through the motions of a long drag, clunk, clunk, Thomas maneuvered each step with growing skill. He landed on the last step and moved around the corner just before he saw his ma put down her sewing to answer the door. “Well, good afternoon, Joe. So nice to see you,” his ma said as she welcomed Joe inside. “Hello, Mrs. Stewart. Uh, good to see you as well.” Elizabeth followed Joe’s line of vision, as it honed in on Thomas, standing in the hall doorway with his braces. Thomas spoke up first. “Yeah, take a good long look and get used to it, ’cause I’m apparently stuck with these for a while.” Joe averted his gaze. “Sorry, Thomas. It’s just that…I’m not used to being this close to someone who has polio, and my mom—she didn’t want me to come actually.” “Well, I had polio. I’m not contagious anymore. I’m just dealing with the aftereffects now. And I will be for some time, so the doctors tell me. So just go ahead and leave if you wanna. It’s fine with me. Wouldn’t want to scare you or nothin’, you chicken!” Thomas imitated a chicken walk the best he could with braces on, arms flapping, then turned to leave. He caught the surprised look from his mother across the room and saw her trying not to laugh. This attitude was sickening. Everyone was afraid of him since he had returned home from the hospital. Ma spoke up. “Joe, if you’re uncomfortable in any way, feel free to leave, but he isn’t contagious. We have confirmed that with the doctors. We do want our family to be safe and healthy as well.” “Um, yes, ma’am, but I’d really like to stay. As I said, my mom feels that way, not me. Hold up, Thomas… Can I come with you?”

“Do what you want. I don’t care,” Thomas said, as he started back up the stairs. “Hey, stay down here a minute. We could play some cards or here, see? I brought some comic books for you. We’d have more room down here. And, just so you know, I’m not afraid. It’s just different that’s all.” Thomas looked to see the comic books Joe was holding in his hands, and Thomas realized he really did want to see those—and maybe even talk to Joe, if he wasn’t being such an ass. “Well, maybe, if you think you can breathe the same air as me without falling over dead. You know, you might just not live through this encounter, you idiot.” “Okay, I guess I deserved that. Now come on. There’s more room down here to spread out. And I wanna show you the newer ones I just got today.” Ma let out an audible sigh. “Yeah, you just want to make sure there’s plenty of room so you don’t have to sit too close to me, chicken shit,” Thomas muttered under his breath. “You, of all people.” “I guess I deserved that too.” Joe crossed the short distance between them and came up behind Thomas, picking him up, braces and all. “Here now, is this close enough, or do you want me to kiss you too?” “Put me down, ugly, and, no, I do not.” Joe put Thomas down carefully on the couch. “It’d probably be the only kiss you’ve had,” Thomas added, his voice barely above a whisper. “Actually you already know I’m pretty popular with the ladies,” Joe added in a wistful, dramatic tone as he plopped down on the couch beside Thomas. “How about some pie for you boys? I have leftover cherry from supper.” “I’ll have some, Ma. Thanks.”

“Me too,” Joe replied. Elizabeth nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Joe and Thomas perused the comic books and talked in hushed tones. Elizabeth returned with two slices of pie, then let them be, as the two devoured their dessert. When he was sure she was out of ear shot, Joe piped up, his mouth full. “I was sure you had changed your mind and deserted me, you know?” “I told you I wouldn’t do that.” “I came here that night, the night we were to leave, when you never showed up. They were taking you to the hospital.” “Yeah, I don’t any of that.” “Well, what now? What are your plans?” Thomas looked from Joe to his own legs and braces, not sure what to say. “Did your parents ever find out? You know. What you did, the money?” Thomas asked. “No, they didn’t. After I left here, I went home. I put it all back. They were still at my cousin’s house, so they never found out. I was hoping we could just delay leaving by a few days.” He gestured to Thomas’s legs. “Obviously that won’t happen.” “Obviously.” “Well, maybe we can still up together. You know, the marines. You would just need…a desk job.” “Sounds almost as exciting as farming,” Thomas said sarcastically. “Or just leave and find a job. See parts of the world we would never see.” “I don’t know. That all depends on these bum legs of mine,” Thomas said, as he

pointed to the braces. “My plans haven’t changed. They just may be delayed somewhat. I’m saving my allowance, but that’s only small change compared to the money I’ll need to live while I look for a job.” “My dad’s gonna pay me this year to work on the farm,” Joe replied. “He said, since I’ll be doing a man’s share of the work, then I’ll get a small wage. It probably won’t be much. But it’s a start.” Thomas’s face fell. Well, good for you. You’ll be on your way then, and I’ll be stuck here, dependent on my family for everything. Thomas ed the conversation he had had with his pa that now seemed like ages ago, that morning in the barn, followed by that awful night in the barn. Pa had wanted to give Thomas more responsibility. Possibly Pa would have considered paying Thomas a small wage as well. Maybe he had been short-sighted. Maybe more responsibility could have meant money which would help him reach his goal. He had really messed up that day, not that it mattered at all now. His whole world had changed later that very evening. “You need to make plans without me. Who knows what I’ll be able to do? Doctors say I’ll be fine. They just don’t know how long it will be before all my muscle strength returns,” Thomas said dejectedly. “Ah, let’s just wait and see how it goes,” Joe said, giving Thomas a shove. “It will take me a while to save money, a long while. My pa’s not gonna make me rich or nothin’. It will be just a small wage. But I’ll save it, and we can keep planning,” Joe said. “Yeah. Sure. We’ll wait and see,” Thomas echoed, not looking Joe in the face. It is just another thing in a long list of things that I can’t keep doing all because of this dumb disease. My life is on hold, while everyone else’s is moving ahead, even Joe’s. Where will I go from here? What exactly will I do with my life if I don’t get better? A feeling of dread formed in the pit of his stomach, and his hands started to sweat as he thought about his future. My life will never be the same. He glanced back to Joe, who was still jabbering away, and then to the kitchen where his ma was. What am I going to do?

WHAT A BEAUTIFUL warm day for mid-May, Elizabeth thought. It will be the perfect day for a birthday party. I have looked forward to this day, almost as much as Thomas. His spirits need a lift. All our spirits need a lift. Thomas is sixteen today and officially a man. Elizabeth thought back on his first fifteen years. Thirteen through sixteen are so important in a young man’s quest for ultimate independence. So much learning and self-discovery happens during these years. But every boy needs a mentor, be it a father, uncle, relative, friend, or neighbor to accompany him over the bridge into manhood. James is that person. I can only encourage. In the end, a man must show him how it’s done. Impatient with herself, Elizabeth sighed deeply. Since Thomas’s illness, and after the initial hospital stay and confinement, James had pulled away from their son, creating a distance that increased daily. It was little things at first. She had mentioned this to him on several occasions, and each time he dismissed the conversation as false, citing different times he had spent with his son. The truth was, it was more of an unconscious turning away, a slight closing of the door to a situation where he had no control. James could not do a thing to “fix” the current predicament, so he was shutting himself off from it. Normally a father and son did active things together, like working side by side, hunting, traveling, thus, over time, effectively “apprenticing” the young man. James and Thomas had done all these things since Thomas was very young as a natural course of parenting and running a family-owned farm. Now, some of these avenues were closed, creating a wide gap that grew bigger daily. Both were missing it, and neither fully realized it. Thomas’s braces were clumsy to deal with and difficult to incorporate into daily life, much less farm life. This was a fact. As a result, lately there had been very little fun activities. It simply must happen; too much was at stake. Thomas’s depression seemed to be worsening by the day, and the family needed to be proactive in making sure he participated in as many activities as possible. Mary and Belle were excited to be in charge of the decorations for the birthday party. Elizabeth caught bits of conversation coming from the dining room, mingled with outbursts of giggles. She smiled; preparations were still in full swing. Laughter was a welcome addition to the household. It had not been a part of their daily lives for what seemed like an eternity. For now Elizabeth was glad she and James had decided to limit the party to family and a few close friends.

Today they wanted Thomas to feel comfortable, not self-conscious. This wouldn’t happen if people were here who had not visited Thomas recently and who were not already accustomed to seeing him in braces. While his condition couldn’t be forgotten, all could certainly be at ease around him so he could enjoy the day. The cake had been completed earlier—chocolate cake with a special coconut cream icing. Belle had added her special finishing touches. Elizabeth smelled the meat loaf as she opened the oven to check on its progress. Her son’s favorite meal also included mashed potatoes with slow-cooked green beans. The potatoes bubbled on the stove. As she raised the lid from the green beans, the air became infused with the aroma of spices, and her stomach growled. Homemade wrapping paper embellished the few gifts that waited to be opened. James had decided on Thomas’s gift for his sixteenth birthday many months ago. They saw no need to change their plans. She hoped Thomas would like it. James had spent months looking for the perfect item for his son. They both decided to give him a little cash to spend as he wanted, most likely on comic books. He needed this diversion now, a lifeline he continued to cling to. Elizabeth sat down for a few minutes, while the food finished cooking. In the middle of the table were the written notes from their last doctor’s visit just over a week ago. She read back through them as she sipped her lukewarm coffee. The reports were encouraging. Thomas’s muscles were stronger, and the treatments appeared to be working, but, for now, no change was made as to the braces or the length of time to be worn. The doctors warned us to be patient, but it is so hard seeing Thomas’s face go from one of hopefulness to discouragement in a matter of minutes. She replayed in her mind the discussion the doctors had conveyed with her alone, warning her to follow the strict regimen exactly. Relapses were common apparently and could happen at any time with this insidious disease, they had said ominously. No reliable test could determine who would relapse and who would not. She hoped and prayed every night that her son would be one of the lucky ones who would recover fully and never suffer these debilitating symptoms again. She prayed and prayed. Belle came bouncing in. “Ma, Ma, come see our beeuutiful decorations. We just finished, and Thomas will

love it. I just know it.” She laughed. Who couldn’t help getting caught up in Belle’s contagious enthusiasm and excitement? “I’ll be right there. I can’t wait to see.” Elizabeth braced herself, wondering, last minute, if she should have done the decorations herself. “No, let me take you,” Belle insisted. Eyes shut, Elizabeth held her breath in anticipation as Belle led her by the hand. She turned the corner into the dining room. “Now,” Belle said, “open your eyes now!” “Girls, you have outdone yourselves. I am completely in awe.”

WHEN ELIZABETH STEPPED into the dining room, she felt like she had been transported to another place in time, a time in the future specifically. Belle turned to her mother. “Whadda you think? Isn’t it just great? This is what we’ve been trying to do,” she stated eagerly, as she thrust the colored pages from a comic book in Elizabeth’s face. Elizabeth examined the picture, then looked back at the dining room, and saw how much time and work had gone into their decorating. They had attempted to transform the dining room into the inside of a spaceship, and it was mesmerizing. Dark blue fabric covered the walls and windows, and blocked out most of the light. Tiny reflective material shone through in the shape of little stars all around the room, giving a glittering effect. The light fixture—which normally had four bulbs in it—only now contained one, with its focus straight onto the table, now a makeshift cockpit. The backs of the chairs and arms were covered in dark blue fabric as well, with a reflective strip on each chair also. In front of Thomas’s place were secured multiple controls, labeled as to their function, which were installed in some kind of cardboard casing, giving the illusion of a dashboard. This was also painted a dark blue. Extending from the dashboard was a makeshift window to see where one was “flying.” Inserted into the window was a picture of outer space, taken and glued from a comic book presumably. It all fit together quite nicely. “Mary, where did you get all this fabric?” Elizabeth asked. “Actually from my job in town and most of it is borrowed,” she confessed. “All the fabric along the wall and windows can be taken back to the shop. We applied aluminum foil stars with tape which can be easily taken off. The fabric on the chairs has quite a few pins in it to help it stay in place when people sit down. Plus they will probably get some food on them, so we’ll put that fabric to use in some way.” “How smart of you, Mary. And this console with the buttons, you made this also?” “Oh, Pa helped with that, fitting the cardboard together and getting the holes just right for the tops to fit into, which can actually turn. See?” As Mary demonstrated and turned the knobs into the various positions, Belle added sound effects of a motor turning over and starting.

“Thomas will be overwhelmed, I’m sure. This took so much time and effort. Let’s make sure he doesn’t see it before dinnertime.” “Hopefully not. We’ve put up signs, warning him to stay out. And we’ve been so busy in here, we haven’t seen him since breakfast.” “Well, I need to get back to the kitchen, so the food can live up to the decorations.” “Oh, Ma”—Belle beamed—“your food is always so good!” “Thank you, Belle, dear. Let’s set out the plates, glasses, silverware, and napkins. It will be us and Joe and Joe’s brother Sam. So that will be seven. And they should be here in about an hour.” Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen, while the girls put the finishing touches on the decorations and set the table. “He will be so surprised.” Belle laughed, hardly able to contain herself. “I hope he likes it.” From the kitchen Elizabeth heard the girls giggle as they worked. They have done so much to make this day special—the decorations, even enlisting their father’s help, helping me with the food. Thomas will be amazed. He will know just how much he is loved tonight. Mary stepped back to ire their work. “Yes, I think we have done quite well here.” She pulled out the picture again and glanced critically around the room. “Well, it’s close, very close,” Mary said. “Let’s go see if there is anything else we can help Ma with.” As the meat loaf sat cooling on the stove, and the bread warmed in the oven, Mary mashed the potatoes, and Belle helped with the gravy. “Almost done, girls?” Elizabeth asked. A knock on the door brought all three heads up in unison. “Mary would you answer the door? And, Belle, run get Thomas to greet his friends.” Belle bounded down to do her mother’s bidding, and Elizabeth had to laugh. “You’d think it was her own birthday, as excited as she is.”

“Here they are, Ma. Pa heard the door and beat me to it,” Mary said, as she reappeared. “So I see. Good evening. So glad you could us,” Elizabeth said, as she came around the kitchen table to greet her guests. “Yes, we are too. It sure does smell good,” Joe replied. “Well, you all wash up, and we’ll sit down to dinner,” Elizabeth said. Thomas rounded the corner into the kitchen, and Mary clapped for the Man of the Hour. “Aw, stop already. You’re embarrassing me,” Thomas said. “Come a little closer. I have an additional piece of attire for you to wear for a bit,” Mary said. With a grand flair, Mary produced a dish cloth, rolled over, for perfect placement over his eyes. He fidgeted. “Is this really necessary?” Thomas complained. “Absolutely necessary,” Pa answered. Thomas sighed. “Oh, all right.” “Okay, boys. Follow Belle into the dining room,” Ma said. “I’m bringing the food in to serve, after we say grace.” Joe and Sam did as told, and Thomas heard them gasp from his holding spot in the kitchen. “This is amazing,” Joe exclaimed. “I gotta have one of these in my house.” Mary led Thomas into the dining room entrance next and dramatically removed the blindfold. He blinked, shielding his eyes from the one bright light, shining down on the center of the table. Almost falling backward, he stumbled a step or two. But James ed him and held him steady. Tears filled his eyes. “This is just like the picture in one of my comic book scenes.”

“Do you mean this one?” Mary interjected, pulling the paper from her apron pocket. “Yes, that’s it! Well, almost.” Thomas winked at his older sister. “It’s fantastic!” His gaze darted around the room, taking in the full effect of “sky” with the stars, and then, as he completed his circle of the table, he found his seat at the console. “I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible,” Thomas said, his voice breaking. “So glad you like it, son. Now if you’ll take your seat, uh, Captain, we’ll take off!”

“MA, THIS MUST be the best birthday dinner ever,” Thomas exclaimed. “Why thank you, Thomas,” Ma responded. “What’s next? Presents or cake?” she asked. “Presents, Ma.” “James, dear, would you do the honors?” James gathered the gifts and laid them to rest on the table next to his son. Thomas was amazed. Four presents were in front of him. He had never gotten four presents at any birthday—none that he could anyway. This one was special, turning sixteen. But, when Mary turned sixteen, she had two gifts; he ed clearly. I guess they really feel sorry for me. He smiled. I don’t care why I have four gifts. I have four gifts! “Does it matter which one I open first? Ma? Pa?” James chuckled. “No, not really, son, but why don’t you open this one last.” As he spoke, he pulled one brightly wrapped little square box just slightly away from the others. “Okay, Pa.” Thomas tore into his first gift. His mind was racing. “Oh, I hope I’m right about this one,” he muttered, as he took in the package’s cylindrical shape. The paper gone, Thomas saw two brand-new comic books. He smiled as he felt the crisp pages between his fingers, and then brought the paper to his nose, sniffing, taking in the freshness of the print. “Those are from us,” Joe piped up. “We thought you could use some new reading material. But now I don’t know.” Looking around, he continued. “You seem to be living the life of all our heroes right here in your dining room.” Thomas glanced around, taking in his surroundings again, fingering the console. “You’re right. I am. But, as I sit in my rocket ship, I’ll be well-read and prepared for anything that comes my way,” Thomas said. “Thanks, you two.”

“Okay, how about this one next?” Mary said, picking up a generous-size rectangular box. “I hope you don’t mind that I wrapped it in, um, blue material that was lying around.” Thomas laughed and took the box, iring the stars that adorned the gift instead of ribbon. It was truly amazing how Mary had masterminded this room, Thomas mused. Ma had explained in detail, while they were eating, all the hard work the girls had put into decorating, but especially Mary. I need to to do something really nice for her in return. He quickly loosened the material and let it fall, as he pulled the top from the box. He slid away a stray piece of tissue paper, then sat, staring, his mouth moving, but nothing coming out. Mary came in closer and said, “I’ve actually been working on this for months, sewing whenever I had a free minute here or there. I know it’s almost summer, and you won’t get much use from this right away, but it’s size large, and it will last. You’ll see it’s—” “Leather! Yes, I see. Mary, how could you afford this? This must have cost you a pretty penny. And, wow. Look at the pockets! It can hold all my special stuff, when I’m out—hunting, fishing, or just out.” “The shop, they are letting me work it off—the cost of the leather. And I got a special deal. You see, I wanted to make you something really special for your birthday, and something you would for a long time.” As Mary spoke, the family gathered round, feeling the supple material, while Thomas ired the jacket. “Well, put it on, silly. Let’s see how much altering I’ll need to do.” Thomas pulled the jacket completely from the box, resisting the urge to bury his face in the smooth, soft leather. He pulled it around behind him, taking in the rich smell of its newness. Elizabeth helped adjust the sleeves as Thomas pulled on the coat, and he stood up. Pa was the first to speak. “Why, it absolutely fits you like a glove,” he said as he ired it from all angles. “Mary, what nice work,” Ma exclaimed. “Excellent stitchery.” “And it’s sooo soft,” Belle chimed in. Thomas made his way awkwardly around the table and gave Mary a big bear

hug. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had anything so fine.” With tears in her eyes, she gave Thomas a satisfied smile. “Now don’t you go around thinking you’re the Big Cheese. You’ve just been growing out of everything lately. We’ve got to make sure you have a decent covering against the elements come fall,” Mary said. “Well, I will be and very finely covered at that.” Thomas shuffled his way back to his chair for the unwrapping of the final two gifts. Just one small package was left, and the one Pa had pulled to the side. Thomas glanced at the makeshift wrapping and skewed ribbon of the small package, and picked it up. Belle must have wrapped it mostly on her own. “I wonder who this is from?” he said quizzically, grinning, knowing full well it was Belle. “Me! Me!” Belle exclaimed. “I got this all on my own, but Pa helped me… helped me, well, you’ll understand. Just open it.” Hard to the touch and oddly shaped, Thomas had it figured out before he had all the wrapping off. He turned the smooth rock around in his hand and noticed its sharp edges, the grayish color but with tinges of other colors mixed in as well. He knew what it was but had never had one of his own. This was flint, similar to the rocks that his pa had taught him to start fires with. “Thanks, Belle. This could come in quite handy. You never know when a fellow may need to start a fire.” “I found it all by myself,” she said proudly. Then pried, “Do you really like it?” “I sure do. It will go right here in my new pocket.” Thomas wrapped the rock in the paper, then took a leftover piece of material from the wrapping of his jacket and covered it snuggly, before placing it in his pocket. “I will keep it in its special spot, close to me.” Belle beamed. “I’m so happy you like it.” Thomas turned his attention to the remaining box. “Can I open this one now, Pa?” “Yes, seems it’s the last one left, son.”

Thomas looked eagerly from Pa to Ma, as he unwrapped his last gift. Thomas popped off the bow and tore through the festive paper, quickly lifting the top. He heard the aah escape his lips before he even realized, but this was truly fine from his perspective. He felt its weight, comfortable and solid, as he turned it over in his hand, and he knew after his careful examination that it was indeed made of silver. This is even more expensive than Pa’s. Ma spoke softly as she said, “We picked this out many months ago. Your pa knew the one he wanted to buy, but it took us just a little time to…bring it home.” It must have cost a lot. I wonder who had to go without in order to get this for me? “I got my first com when I was sixteen, something I treasured for years. What do you think of it, Thomas?” Pa asked. “Pa, Ma, it’s wonderful! I just hope I have the opportunity to use it soon. I won’t be trudging through the woods much with these things on,” he said, gesturing to his leg braces. “It may not be tomorrow or next week,” Pa said, “but you and I are going hunting someday real soon. You’ll need that com, since we’ll make camp under the stars.” Thomas couldn’t believe his ears. He glanced at Ma, as she wiped away tears. This was the first time Pa had spoken of a future with Thomas in it in such a long time. Even though he hadn’t forgiven his pa for that awful night in the barn, he missed his pa. Thomas wasn’t sure if shame or sadness made his pa keep his distance, but if Pa thought Thomas would recover, then surely it must be so. Family and friends surrounded him, as they each took a turn holding the precious com. When Thomas carefully returned it to its box, he noticed a last unexpected gift. From the bottom of the box he pulled out two new crisp onedollar bills. I’m rich—’til I spend it all on comics. He looked at Joe, who eyed the bills with greed. We do have plans, and I need to be responsible and start saving…tomorrow, he thought, laughing. “Who’s ready for cake?” Mary asked, surveying everyone in the room.

Ma screamed, “Thomas!” Smiles and laughter quickly turned solemn, as Ma watched, helpless, with the others at the table, while her son fell to the floor, the immediate deafening silence broken by the clatter of braces as metal met wood.

SHE WROTE NUMBER forty-eight in the corner, then added it to the full collection. Whisterly ran her fingers over the necklace she’d been holding, recalling every groove and word inscribed on its cool worn exterior then reluctantly placed the keepsake with the letters, locking them securely in her desk drawer. From her window she could see the activity below, people coming and going, living seemingly normal lives. She thought back to a time before all her people were sick, back to a time before they lived their lives as shadows of their true selves. The tattered book on her desk had seen better days. She retrieved it and clutched it to her chest, as she sat down in the oversize chair and perused the well-worn pages. The title read simply Earth. Now we’re going back again. The test period had been set in motion. Whisterly recalled what had led her people to the distant planet revealed between these pages. Earth was so much like her home planet. The similarities in the solar system and the planetary conditions all made it the perfect match. Even the human skeletal makeup was compatible to their own. The scientists had reveled in their discovery. The interstellar search had confirmed that the antibodies needed to fight the disease that plagued them on Remeon could be found on Earth and used to develop a cure. These antibodies were found in those infected with the polio virus. We believed the benefits outweighed the risks. She had been so young and impressionable then, and he had been defiant, even though she knew he had been terrified. The earthly disease that afflicted him made him the perfect specimen for the doctors on Remeon to make much-needed progress. She didn’t perceive his illness as a weakness. On the contrary, his human qualities attracted her. Humans were forthright and at times brutally honest. True honesty and sincerity were difficult to find on Remeon. Remeonites valued other traits. Through her daily lessons, he had quickly mastered his newfound telepathic ability, and they had delighted in each new discovery of each other. As she turned the pages—which she knew so well—vivid pictures of their time together flooded her consciousness. She could almost feel his presence, the caress of his lips, and the tenderness of his touch. Her heart ached as she ed the ensuing ion that had developed and the forbidden love they had pursued, despite the council’s decision. He had wanted her to come to Earth, to leave her family and responsibilities and her

dying people, all in the name of their love. In the end, the secret that she kept meant she had to stay. Survival was at stake for her people. And the urgency with which she had to move him off-world had left her no other choice. Although the research and subsequent discovery of the ancient portal had ultimately saved him, it had doomed their love. All her life she had been told the portal was a myth. She was one of a small group of people who knew the truth. Though well-hidden, the portal offered transport to other worlds, provided certain truths were evident. It was a secret that needed to be kept. She wondered if she would ever see him again, and fantasized a reality in which he knew the truth and found his way back to her, but, in her heart, she knew it could never be. Their relationship necessarily failed for the good of the people. And now too many years had ed. The book she held was the last remnant from their relationship—a gift from his final trip through the portal. Plans were set in motion. It would all happen again. They had finally found another human candidate, one who, from knowledge gained during their scans of Earth, wouldn’t struggle with the concept of interstellar space travel and worlds beyond his own. This was paramount. There had to be a basic common ground at the outset. The preliminary testing for perseverance, character, and personality fit, would soon begin. Will he be strong enough to heal the people and fight for them if necessary? Her emotions were in flux. Others can sense this. I must gain control. A knock on the door brought her back to reality. She felt the presence of her daughter; Whisterly smiled. “Come in, little one.” “Mother, you haven’t been responsive. I started to worry.” She shrugged. “Well, even the head of the council sometimes needs a little time away.” “I see you’re reading up for our new experiment,” Arista said, as she eyed the book beside her mother. “This could be the break we’ve been waiting for. It won’t be long now.” Whisterly winced inwardly, momentarily regretting hiding the full truth from her daughter. Eventually she would know the truth. But now was not the time. “Yes, our doctors and scientists are prepared. I should be as well, don’t you think?”

Arista could tell her mother wasn’t being completely forthright, her previous comment only a version of the truth. “Mother, you are always prepared,” she said, as she moved in to share her seat. “You seem more solemn than usual, and I’m not getting a reading on you.” “We’ll fix that,” she said tenderly, pulling her in. The two locked foreheads, merging their consciousnesses, sharing almost all with each other.

THOMAS FELT A commotion, like millions of conversations going on in his head, and twisted his body from side to side to make it go away. What is going on? Why is it so loud? Almost trancelike, he couldn’t seem to shake off the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. It seemed useless fighting and struggling within himself; he could not wake. Somewhere deep in the recesses of his mind, he heard the word peace. As he heard it, and its repetition over and over in his head, he gradually felt it take hold, and, while he still did not wake up, the clatter in his brain subtly subsided. It is time, Thomas heard unspoken in his head. Who was that? He blinked several times, as he struggled to determine where he was. The grogginess eased, and the peaceful feeling from before was still at work, just below the surface. Why am I outside? Have I been sleepwalking? Maybe Joe played a trick on me at the party. Disoriented, he glanced down. No, he had not been sleeping at home in his own bed. His clothes were on: his leather jacket, the cotton long-sleeved shirt, tros, and boots, all on and ed for. This is truly strange. He mulled over the situation. The sun was rising. Judging from its distance in the sky, it was about 8:00 a.m. He ed the party from the night before, his birthday party, and retraced the events. His hands went to the leather from his new jacket, now welcoming its warmth. “Yes, it was real,” he said aloud to no one in particular. He dug deep into his pockets and found his pocketknife and handkerchief in one, and, in the other, the familiar heart-shaped rock and a new rock carefully wrapped in blue material. Just within his reach was the box, the one he had in hand yesterday at his party, the one with the com. Quickly emptying the box of its contents, he grabbed the com and the two dollars, and pocketed both. Gingerly he rose. More stiff than he realized, he had obviously been sitting or sleeping for some time. Something wasn’t right; he felt extremely light. He took in the full length of his body and was unprepared for what he did not see. He reached down, frantically feeling the length of his legs. No braces were on his legs or on the ground or anywhere within his field of vision. His heart pounded loudly in his chest, and he fought the urge to scream. What could be happening? How did I get here? Carefully anticipating pain and weakness, he walked, first one step, then another.

Absolutely none of the old pain was evident. His muscles felt strong and true, like they used to be. After a few more tentative steps, he walked purposefully. Then, steadily on his feet, he broke out into a full run. When he expended all his energy, he stopped. With his hands on his knees to catch his breath, he inhaled deeply. This can’t be real. Something’s got to be wrong. I’m in some deep, deep dream. Thomas took another more detailed look around the landscape. He climbed a tall tree and scanned the horizon in all directions, as far as he could see. The terrain looks real, just not like home… Where’s the farm? Our neighbors? Without a second’s hesitation Thomas slapped himself hard on his face. No, not a dream. He rubbed his face, then made his way down the tree. Bewildered, he sat on a large rock nearby, racking his brain for any inkling of what could be going on. His head throbbed again, and the calm feeling from before waned. He was out of ideas. His legs began rhythmically bouncing up and down nervously. Someone spoke, and, looking around, he said, “Who’s there? Show yourself. Where am I, and where is my family?” Silence. Deafening silence. He paused, hoping for a response, then tried again, this time louder. “I heard you. I know you’re here. Where are you? Don’t be a coward,” he added. Thomas felt the wind blowing coolly on his face, turned his gaze toward the sky, and saw the sun beating down. This is real, damn it. I’m not asleep. “I said, show yourself! What do you want with me?” Thomas yelled. He was silent and listened, hoping to see a sign: an animal or human, some evidence of intelligent life somewhere. He felt alone and deserted. In all his sixteen years, he was in a place where he had no recollection and absolutely no idea how he got there. Thomas slid down the rock and came to rest on the ground. Then he heard it again—a voice, a very soft, gentle voice. He cocked his head forward. He waited. And he heard it again, this time a little louder. You are safe for now. We understand this is unsettling, but there is no cause for alarm.

Even among all the confusion, Thomas felt like he had somehow been in this place before, heard this voice sometime, maybe long ago, possibly multiple times… Am I being manipulated? He was unsure. A fog clouded his mind. He took a deep breath and let go, as he cleared his thoughts, leaving his mind open for all possibilities. The voice began again. Be still and save your energy. All will be made clear soon. Thomas threw up his hands, exasperated. “I am still. I got that down.” Your travel was difficult and the transfer…unusual. We do not mean you harm. But those close by would harm you. You must rest. But, first, what do you call yourself? We know you but in another sense. The transfer? What the heck? He concentrated hard to think of an answer. “My name is…” Wait… No. I can be anyone… I don’t have to be Thomas, the boy with braces. He considered his response for a few minutes longer. And when he did reply, he was surprised by his own words. Stephen T. is my name, he stated and smiled as it finally hit him: Telepaths, we must be speaking telepathically. And yours? What is your name? And, if you know me, why don’t you know my name?

SHE JUST HAD to get out of that hospital. The rhythmic kneading of the bread provided Elizabeth a mindless, monotonous chore. The flour coated her fingers, easily allowing the dough to bounce lightly back to her as she pushed and released. It gave her a much-needed outlet. She pounded the elastic dough harder and threw it against the counter repeatedly. It felt good to hit something. It had been three long days. Three days since her son had gone into a coma, and the worse part was, the doctors could not tell them why. She and her husband had been taking turns spending the night with Thomas, so one of them would always be with Thomas in case he woke during the night. The days were spent divided between home and the hospital, with church volunteers offering to fill in the gaps. The birthday celebration now seemed like ages ago, an isolated little blip of happiness in an otherwise chaotic few months. Where did this medical crisis come from? Elizabeth could not even guess. Her son had been on the upswing, or so it seemed. They had begun to settle into a new “normal” somewhat, not really acceptance but an acquiescence for the time being. She recalled the evening. It was taking on a dreamlike quality. A happy time for Thomas, wasn’t it? That had been her goal—to make it the most special birthday ever. Now the confusion and commotion accompanying Thomas’s collapse was becoming a blur. Initially the immediate family had surrounded Thomas, trying desperately to revive him. When it was apparent that he had not just fallen or fainted, Thomas was taken directly to the hospital. Belle was inconsolable, and Mary stoically tried to control her own emotions. It was a long first night at the hospital as the family rallied by his bedside. The doctors attempted to find a link between this collapse and his most recent polio diagnosis. To say they were unsure of his prognosis was an understatement. To add to everyone’s despair, at this point in time, the doctors really did not know what was happening with Thomas. Elizabeth heard the words of the hospital staff over and over in her head like a stuck record: coma, complicated by dehydration, weakness, and lethargy. The doctors’ working theory at this point was some kind of secondary or postpolio syndrome, characterized by severe weakness and possible muscle atrophy. The translation became: more of the same initial treatment. However, the coma

was a source of contention among the doctors with no agreement as to why this had occurred. All that could be offered was treatment of symptoms to keep the patient, her son, comfortable. Where in the world do we go from here? Naturally no other option was conceivable than Thomas waking and proceeding on his path to full recovery that had begun weeks ago, Elizabeth surmised. She rolled out the dough, the activity calming her nerves. She set it aside to rise once again and turned to find Belle in the kitchen doorway, eyes staring in the distance. Caught up in her own thoughts and concerns, she had not even noticed her youngest child. How long have I let my thoughts stray in my own little world? “Hello, my sweet girl. How are you?” Elizabeth watched as Belle sniffed, bravely fighting back tears. Elizabeth lost herself in her daughter’s big brown eyes, mesmerized by the depth of sorrow she saw on her face. Then the flood gates opened. She reached out her arms, and Belle fell into them, clinging tightly, with a ferociousness beyond her years. Elizabeth rocked back and forth, adjusting her in her lap, soothing Belle as Elizabeth had done years ago when Belle was just a baby. After many minutes had ed, and Elizabeth could tell Belle had calmed by her rhythmic, now regular breathing, Elizabeth spoke again. “Belle, your father and I firmly believe your brother will recover from this episode. He will be home before you know it to continue his recuperation.” Belle faced her mother. “But, Ma, it’s so scary. And he is so still. That’s not like our Thomas at all.” “Yes, you’re quite right, dear. But his body needs time to heal, and, to do that, it must conserve energy. So his body has gone into a deep sleep to repair itself.” Belle opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again, as if evaluating the words she had just heard. Elizabeth could see her child’s expression change as she digested the information. “What is it Belle, honey?” “Well, how long does his body need to…you know…? Get better? We thought he was getting better before.”

Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement and took Belle’s hand in her own. “Yes, I know, and he was getting better. But right now the doctors don’t know what has changed, just that it will require some more time for him to heal.” Belle bobbed her head up and down in acknowledgment, even though her face was still quizzical. “What can we do? Thomas needs us to get well. I know he does.” Elizabeth smiled. “I think you’re right. The doctors believe he can hear us. So we can talk to him and read to him, tell him what’s been going on. We can pray. Would you like to read something to him? Something you know he’ll like?” Belle looked up eagerly at first, then slowly bowed her head down again, frowning. “I can’t read as well as you or Pa, but I’d really like that. You know, I pray every day for Thomas when I say my prayers before bed. Do you think he’d like to hear one of his comic books?” Belle asked, her tentativeness apparent in her voice. “I certainly do,” Elizabeth answered. Before she could say another word, Belle was off and up the stairs in search of material she could read to Thomas. Oh, to be young and so instantly distracted. She laughed at her youngest daughter, just for an instant, and stopped short, her voice caught in her throat. What am I doing? My son is lying in a hospital bed, and I’m actually laughing? Ashamed, she covered her mouth and bowed her head. “Do you really believe reading to Thomas will wake him up, Ma?” Mary asked. Her eldest child had obviously been listening to her conversation with Belle and had caught Elizabeth off guard. She cleared her throat and brushed the hair from her face, allowing a few seconds to compose herself, before facing her daughter. “Yes, I believe he can hear us, and we can help bring him out of the coma.” “But the other possibility is that he won’t come out of that coma, right, Ma? He may never…” Mary’s voice shook and tears fell, as she left her sentence unfinished and buried her head in her hands. Elizabeth quickly closed the distance to her firstborn daughter and put both her hands into her own. “Listen, Mary. You must be strong. Be strong for yourself and Belle but especially for Thomas. He needs us all at full strength for him.”

“You’re right, Ma. I just can’t help but think…” Mary’s voice broke, and she took a deep breath, her bottom lip quivering. “Yes, you can,” Elizabeth said firmly. “I know you can,” she replied, putting her finger under Mary’s chin and raising it, even with her own. She kissed her on the forehead and wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. They stood like one statue. Elizabeth was unsure who was ing whom. She took a deep breath and pulled away, studying her daughter’s face. “We’re okay,” she said, with as much confidence as she could muster. “Now could you help by setting the table, while I put together an early dinner for us? I need to relieve your father.” “Yes, Ma, of course,” Mary said, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Elizabeth pivoted, back at work preparing dinner for the three of them. As she did, she mentally rebuilt the walls in her mind that had just been torn down. She couldn’t afford to let these kinds of negative ideas into her thoughts. Willing herself free of their influences, she focused on Thomas and bringing him home. This would happen any day, Elizabeth told herself, any day now.

WE KNOW YOU, Stephen, and know you have unique abilities. We can feel the spirit of powerful purpose in your life force. This is one reason you have come to be here. Thomas, now Stephen, thought, Here? Where is here exactly? And you still have not told me your name. The naming of one invokes controlling power among my people. If you can name an inner spirit, you can control it. My commonly used name is Whisterly. You can use that name to summon me. Here, where we are, all will be unveiled in time. For now, let me just say we are in a different realm…another place—other than your home. Other than your home… The words reverberated in Stephen’s head, back and forth like a ping-pong ball. He had always believed in life beyond Earth. Was that what this was? Whisterly had said just that, so matter-of-factly. She made him want to believe. But this was crazy, wasn’t it? A sobering thought occurred to Stephen. What if he were crazy, and she—just a voice still—was just a figment of his imagination, and this was all just some silly, very realistic-feeling bit of insanity. On an impulse, Stephen blurted out, “We have been communicating telepathically, right? Can you read my thoughts? Do you know what I’m thinking?” Whisterly responded out loud this time. “Yes. We communicate most efficiently by telepathy, and we sense emotions…or feelings. But attempting to read one’s private thoughts has been outlawed for centuries here. That type of crime is a very serious offense and dealt with severely among my people, and that is why our true names are rigorously guarded.” “This is all a lot for me to…take in. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. How do I know you’re real and all this is real?” “Real? We went to great lengths to make this environment authentic to you and something familiar. Do you not like your surroundings? Is it not pleasing? Is this more to your liking?” Instantly day turned to night, and Stephen felt a rush of cool air, as the sun disappeared, and the evening breeze surrounded him. It did all feel oddly familiar, as if home could be around the next bend. “So you can change your

surroundings at will?” Stephen asked. “Only your perceptions of the surroundings have changed. I have given your mind a suggestion of your nighttime ambience, which you have obviously accepted. Is it more to your liking?” “Okay.” Stephen took a series of deep breaths, struggling to keep his composure. This had all been so far-fetched. Yet here he was, but why? His heart beat faster, and he broke out in a sweat. He fought the urge to run. This must be what a trapped animal feels like. These beings could speak telepathically, could control one’s belief of time and place. Why would they have need of me? “You still have told me very little of why I am here and why I cannot see you.” “It is a very complicated process, and one I cannot explain at this time. However, in many respects, your will and acceptance of life beyond your own kind led us to you and your gifts. ” Stephen quickly reviewed any “gifts” he believed to be pertinent here. “Quite possibly you have me confused with someone else.” Smart? Sure, but not a genius. “Are you sure it’s me you need? If you’re in trouble, or your people are, then you must want a person who can make a difference in some way or a person who is a great warrior… Maybe your telepathic wires are confused somehow,” Stephen said. “I assure you, there is no confusion. You are the one who can help us. Your will is strong. You were chosen, and we must protect you so you can safely complete your mission.” Mission? thought Stephen. “But I cannot guarantee you can be contained here. Forces are at work that could pull you back to your own world, as well as others here who seek to harm you. See my vision in your mind. This is where you must go.” Stephen blinked and saw an intricate map in his mind, as if the steps to his destination were foremost in his thoughts and sight, with the indicated pathway that he should take next. Yet he could still see what was in front of him in the physical world along the way to where he was headed. “Let us begin our short journey, but, again, your safety is at risk, so we must set

a brisk pace. Do you feel ready to travel?” Was that a trick question of sorts? He was not fully capable of answering that. The one thing he felt confident of was a lack of information. His safety at risk? That didn’t sound good. At risk from who? Stephen quickly weighed his limited options in his mind. Stay put? More uncertainty, he reasoned. Take this walk with Whisterly, who was just a voice in the air? Safety? Danger? Who knew? Ah, hell, if I start walking, maybe I’ll run into something and wake up. “Let’s go,” Stephen said, “and I’d like to hear more about this ‘mission’ you spoke of.” He took a step forward. Stephen saw the vision in his mind’s eye change, and it updated as he moved in his physical world with the destination in mind. This is quite interesting, he mused, watching the changes with each additional step. In the far distance, he saw a compound of sorts, and his heart skipped a beat. As his pace quickened, a rush of excitement filled him with the anticipation of the promised mission at hand. “Your task will be explained to you in depth,” Whisterly said, “but first let’s get you to a better place. Continue to follow the pathway in front of you. You are getting close now.” Indeed, they were close, it seemed. Stephen saw the outlines of a huge building looming before them, edging nearer with each step. Whisterly’s vision and words were still in his head, evolving and updating with his pace as she spoke to him directly. “Now I must take your hand as we broach the structure. I will lead you from here.” She reached out and touched Stephen’s hand, and Whisterly was instantly revealed to Stephen in full form. His jaw dropped, and he stood frozen, taken aback by her beauty and grace.

STEPHEN FELT A sting that reverberated up his arm and penetrated his body with the pins-and-needles sensation he felt when he accidentally touched the electric fence at home, the one intended to stop the cattle. This wasn’t quite as strong but numbing just the same. He jerked his hand back, obeying his natural instinct, shaking it vigorously, as if he could throw off the unsettling feeling. “It’s quite all right. The feeling will , and, as we interact more, you will feel that less and less,” Whisterly assured Stephen. “Come. Let us walk inside. Many would like to make your acquaintance.” She waited, her hand outstretched to receive his. Stephen somewhat hesitantly accepted it and found the tingling, prickly feeling much less intense, just as she had said it would be. Or maybe only her suggestion made it so, he thought. He took a good look at Whisterly for the first time and was truly overwhelmed. Her beauty seemed to radiate from within, and a soft glow permeated her presence. She wore a dazzling silver robe that sparkled, with inlays of black surrounding the bodice. Her hair fell long, past her shoulders, the color of silver as well, and adornments of jewelry in red and black could be seen prominently about her wrists and neck. She was breathtaking, and he could not take his eyes off her. A medallion hung around her throat. It exuded brilliance and distracted Stephen when she caught the sunlight, which was then reflected from its metal and bounced around the circular room with an image of the sun on its walls. Though bright in its display, he could not make out the words inscribed below it. Either he never knew them, or they were quite possibly in another language, Stephen reasoned. How am I understanding them? Do we really speak the same language? How could that be? Whisterly’s voice grabbed his attention, and Stephen glanced in her direction. He heard her telepathically. It’s the universal translator. Differences in languages are easily accommodated. You will understand all of us and we you as well. “Wow, that is just…wow.” “Everyone, this is Stephen, the one we have been waiting for. As you can imagine, he is a little overwhelmed. In time I’m sure he will meet all of you, but, for now, let him get to know us on his . I’m sure we all feel for him in this position.”

Stephen faced the gathering crowd and was flooded by his own feelings of insecurity as all eyes focused on him. What can I do for all these people? The crowd murmured among themselves, stopping to smile as he and Whisterly ed. They all have that same glow, Stephen noted as he continued walking; it’s like a light within that can’t be contained, so it just spills out. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are we walking to?” Whisterly pointed ahead. “Just over there. We’ll have some refreshments, and my daughter will us. I’d like for you to meet her. Actually, in your Earth years, you both are close in age.” “That would be great. Strangely enough I’m not very hungry, and Ma says I’m always hungry. All the excitement and nervousness I guess. And I’m still in the dark on this mission. I would really like to know what it is you all expect of me.” “Absolutely and you will very soon. Come. Sit and eat something.” Whisterly led Stephen to a chair a few feet away, and he heard her whisper. “Come and meet Stephen, my little one.” Wait a minute. Did he actually “hear” that? He would need to concentrate hard at all times. “Stephen,” Whisterly said, “this is Arista, my daughter. She has been awaiting your arrival for some time and actually was very instrumental in choosing you to come to our world.” “Oh, I see,” he responded, not actually from any real understanding whatsoever. He was speechless. Her beauty was absolutely astounding, even more so than her mother’s, Stephen decided immediately. Her penetrating blue eyes were fixed on him as he took in her features. Golden hair fell to her shoulders; it was straight without a ripple, with a streak of pure white down the middle. She was petite, and her white gown fit her form to perfection. Her dress caught the light, giving it a sparkling effect, as she effortlessly slid into the chair across from him, all the while still holding his gaze. “Hi,” Stephen ventured, immediately regretting his word choice. I’m meeting a beautiful, exotic woman from another planet, and hi is what I come up with? That definitely didn’t sound smart, or heroic, he thought, wishing he could disappear inside his chair. “Hello,” Arista returned, as she exchanged glances and a nod with a server who ed by. “Food is forthcoming. I hope it will be to your liking. We strive to

please and to attend to your needs.” Her actions and words belied her age, or what Stephen was led to believe was her age. Food is coming, he thought. I am a little hungry now. And I have a feeling I’ll miss Ma’s cooking. Visions of food flashed in his mind’s eye: hot biscuits and gravy, soft tender pork roast, hot buttered mashed potatoes, a big ole mess of green beans, sweet corn, and hot apple pie. Would these food items be “on the menu?” Probably not, he surmised. Trying to take his mind off food, he turned his thoughts to Arista. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking? Your mother said we were close in age.” “Actually I’m sixteen of your Earth years.” Stephen evaluated her again from across the table. “You seem much older,” he retorted, quite accidentally out loud. Arista’s demeanor became solemn as she spoke. “We grow up quickly here. There is much to be done, serious work, and not much time for play or frivolities.” “What then do you do for fun?” “Fun? Our very lives are at stake! I will pardon that comment since you are new to our world. You have a telepathic ability, being on this planet. Use it to ascertain feelings, moods, danger, happiness, or sadness. You will need this knowledge of us and others in the days to come. And you must come to understand this is not a game.” Stephen shifted in his seat uneasily. “I…uh…meant no disrespect.” He closed his eyes and focused on Arista’s thoughts. As he did so, pain and sorrow filled his being. He grabbed the edge of the table as wave after wave of emotion hit him unseen. As for the source of this deep ache, he had no idea. But its depth and power were staggering and very real. He felt a suffocating grip closing in around him. “Stephen! Stephen! You must break away.” He heard her voice very faintly, as if from far away, then louder and louder. “Stephen!” Then suddenly someone vigorously shook him and yelled too. As his eyes jerked open, the potency of the feelings subsided, but they were still there, tugging at the edge of his consciousness. Stephen fought the urge to cry as the full extent of her pain hit

him. What was that? “I’m so sorry, Stephen. I should not have directed you to do that without helping you put up some defensive barriers. It was quite careless of me. Take my hand. I can bring you some comfort as your system flows back in balance. And here, the food has come. Take some nourishment.” Stephen eyed the food with trepidation. It looked like little squares of colored Jell-O. Most assuredly not his mother’s cooking. “Please eat. See?” she motioned, as she ate a bite. “It will help.” He followed her example, ate a mouthful, and felt curious feelings of satisfaction, followed by metallic aftertastes, although very little taste sensations. He swallowed and ate more. “Feeling better?” she asked, nodding encouragingly. “Yes, some. I would like to hear more though, know more.” “You will but not tonight. You must rest. This is a lot for a newcomer to take in. I will take you to your sleeping quarters, where you need to rejuvenate.” “Rejuvenate? You do talk funny.” Stephen allowed himself to be led, as onlookers scrutinized him, down a long hallway with many doors. Arista came to a stop in front of one, opened it, and guided him inside. A low light illuminated the room. After the unusual events and emotions of the day, exhaustion had set in. Stephen could barely put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly overcome, he mumbled, “I’m really more tired than I thought. I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open. This is embarrassing.” Arista moved to his side, guiding him the last few steps. “It’s quite all right. I completely understand. You need to rest.” “I’m really not sure what’s wrong with me,” Stephen said, as he sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes. He lay down and was instantly asleep. This is fortunate and will make my tasks so much easier this night, Arista thought, as she swiftly and expertly set to work. Done only moments later, she glanced at Stephen as he peacefully slept and silently closed the door behind her.

A CALMNESS PERMEATED Thomas through each and every muscle. He felt the depths of sleep yet was vaguely aware of his surroundings. He had succumbed to a grogginess that had completely taken him over. It was masked as sleep, yet he was aware on a subconscious level of not being asleep. No freedom to dream, no gentle falling to sleep, no restful relaxation, only a somewhat forced calmness. I’m being drugged, Thomas thought, not overly agitated. I need to when I wake up. Why…? Why? In his mind he meandered toward thoughts of home. Even if he couldn’t wake up, he could think in a somewhat clumsy manner. Maybe, when I open my eyes, I will find this has been a crazy dream brought on by bad food or a blow to the head. Random thoughts popped up without being held back by his conscious mind—as was normally the case. Ma’s cooking… Belle’s bouncy curls. Mary’s comforting smile. Pa’s approving nod… The gentle roll of the countryside, the springtime planting season, bread fresh from the oven… My task, what is my task…? Mrs. Martin, school… Am I crazy? Home. I can see home. Through his mind’s eye, Thomas walked in the back door, paused, then continued on through the mudroom into the kitchen. Ma seemed to look directly at him, but her face showed no recognition. Ma! It’s me! Thomas screamed in silent agony, I’m here! Thomas followed the direction of her glance toward a tableful of all his favorites: mashed potatoes with gravy, biscuits, ham, and creamed corn. There sat Pa, just finishing grace, Ma, then Mary and Belle, next to an empty chair—his chair. As they began eating, Thomas felt himself drawn to the chair, pulled in by his desire to in the personal conversations about daily life and all the “normal” activities of home. Thomas felt a smile form on his lips. His family. There they were. All he had to do was sit down. His moment of happiness quickly turned to heartache. It was as if he didn’t exist. He was a forgotten ghost. The familiar faces, the laughter— never had he felt so excluded. Even though he seemed to be invisible to his family, Thomas felt drawn to the house he knew so intimately. A path he had taken so many times before but never like this. Never as an unseen voyeur. Thomas took another cursory look at his ma and pa. “I wonder if they even miss me,” he murmured aloud. Uncomfortable staying there longer, Thomas continued around the corner to the dining room. The last night he ed being here, the room had looked

much different. Gone were the dark curtains with the stars taped to them; gone as well was the makeshift rocket ship his sisters had so lovingly put together. The room and chairs within were no longer a cockpit ready to blast off into space. Thomas walked through to the living room, where the radio could just barely be heard. He strained to make out the words, then recognized the radio series The Green Hornet. This was one activity he and his dad both enjoyed. A smile formed on his face as he ed the unusual close moments they shared, listening to the radio show together. He stopped to sit in a familiar chair, thinking about his next move in his strange situation. This must all be a dream, but it seems so real. Determined, Thomas instantly decided he wouldn’t leave, so he would always be a part of his family again. But then, just as quickly, he surmised this existence…this wasn’t life. It was something much, much less than his real life. As a low hum of conversation buzzed from the kitchen, a deepening ache grew inside him. From across the room, he caught sight again of the empty chair—his chair. This is where I belong, not on some strange planet assigned a task to do who-knows-what. “I still don’t know what!” he gasped. He got up and began the familiar trek up the stairs, past his sisters’ rooms, to his own domain. This was the place where he had been through many highs and lows, tough times full of discipline, as well as love and laughter, and much sickness as of late. Thomas grabbed the door knob and gave it a swift turn, fully expecting to see everything as it had been left on the evening of his birthday. He stood in the doorway, and his jaw dropped as he gaped at the figure on his bed. “This can’t be. It just can’t! How…? How…can…?” Confused, he rushed to his own bedside and confronted his mirror image. His fingers reached tentatively for the hand that was his own. Thomas’s grasp encountered nothing but air and space. He made no with the person on the bed. As he tried again and again and again, the result was the same. He simply could not touch “Thomas” who lay sleeping on the bed. He sucked in air as his heart raced. His gulps turned into sobs, and panic took hold. In pain and disbelief, Thomas tilted back his head, and a deep guttural sound escaped his mouth as he fell to his knees. “What…has…happened…to me?” he wailed. Time ed, and his cries gone unheard quieted. Uncertain how long he had been there, he blinked his eyes and lifted his head slowly. His gaze came into

focus and rested on the familiar rock on the nightstand. The cool wind flowed through his open bedroom window, blowing on his face, the curtains dancing to their own silent rhythm, seeming oddly incongruent to the mood at hand, yet calming his fraying nerves. Resolve building, Thomas rose to his feet and stormed from his childhood room.

“YES. ARISTA HERE. I must bring Stephen out of his rejuvenation cycle. He is having unintended side effects… No. I have been monitoring him for the last part of his cycle, just in case there were problems… Yes, I wanted to be here as the cycle terminated… Yes, at once.” She pressed a series of buttons that terminated the cycle, then quickly stored the equipment. An alert indicated to her that Stephen’s readings were back in the normal range. He turned his head and opened his eyes. His gaze was glued to her face. Arista saw the fear in his eyes only a few seconds before he lunged for her. “What are you doing to me?” he screamed. Instantly the room filled with men, each with a gun cocked, loaded, and leveled at Stephen’s head.

STEPHEN FROZE, JUST short of reaching Arista. The men with guns in hand closed in, forcing him back to the bed, while Arista stood protected behind the man-made shield. “Really you don’t understand,” Stephen offered, as he cleared his head of sleep. “I would not harm her. I’m just desperate for some answers.” “And you will have some,” Arista blurted out, pushing through the men targeting Stephen. “As I was going to tell you this morning, when we broke our fast, there is a council meeting afterward, and you have been asked to attend. I suspect you will have the opportunity to ask some questions as well. Please, gentlemen, stand down and withdraw your weapons. As you can see, I’m not in any danger at this time. I believe Stephen was just startled after waking—perhaps from a dream?” She inclined her head toward him, prompting a response. “Uh, yes. That’s right actually… I was dreaming about home and was very confused.” The head guard gave Stephen a menacing glare. “As you command, Lady Arista.” Stephen witnessed a change in Arista’s demeanor. Subtly she gestured to the soldiers, and they exited the room. “Lady Arista? Are you a princess or something?” Stephen asked. “I definitely don’t have the full story here.” “There was not time to reveal all last night, and you were weary from your… journey, as you may recall.” “I do being somehow really tired. No, ‘tired’ isn’t quite the right word… More like run down, not able to go anymore,” Stephen corrected. “It was strange, for me anyway. I guess it is being here.” “Yes. Well, in any case, let us proceed. On the way I will brief you a little about our council. We will have our morning nourishment as we walk. Shall we?” “Sure, I’m ready for some answers. Let’s go.” As they left the room, Arista pulled two packets from the folds of her dress. “Here, eat. It will give you energy and…clarity.” She motioned as she

demonstrated with her first bite. Stephen followed her lead and took a bite of the “food” placed in his hand. It had the same look, taste, and texture as the previous night’s dinner, yet it somehow was just what he needed. The fogginess in his head lifted as he ate, and more energy exuded from his limbs. He felt a strength flow throughout his body. “Wow, this is pretty good stuff. I must have been hungrier than I thought,” Stephen said. “Yes. I’m certain that is so,” Arista agreed with a nod. “Now, let us concentrate, shall we, on what is ahead. we spoke ing your new telepathic abilities to ascertain feelings, moods, and being open to others’ thoughts—not probing, just open.” Stephen thought, Of course I , but I don’t know how. As if he had just spoken aloud, Arista answered him. You will easily get the hang of it. Let’s practice. Focus on me, just like you do when you are having a conversation. Block out distractions from your mind and just think of me. Stephen laughed to himself thinking, That part won’t be hard. You’re beautiful. “Stephen, focus. Now tell me what I’m thinking. What am I conveying to you?” Stephen’s countenance changed as his brows furrowed, deep in concentration. Just let it happen, like last night. It’s not difficult, she communicated. “I’m trying,” Stephen sputtered. “You did it,” Arista commented out loud. I did? Stephen said, this time without speaking. “Yes. Now you will find some council will speak in a combination of verbal and nonverbal communication. It’s very natural for them, but it may be difficult for you to keep up. This will all come more easily to you if you relax and accept the communication as it happens. I suspect most of the meeting will be verbal since they are aware you are a newcomer, and this is foreign to you.

But you will miss much of what is said if you are not focused on nonverbal conversation as well. Understand?” “Got it,” Stephen replied, sounding surer than he actually felt. “Now take my hands. I want to help you construct some barriers to incoming thought waves to help shield you from their effects. This mental preparation is something we do automatically, like putting on clothes or brushing our hair. You will learn this skill as well. This will make it so others’ emotions and negative thoughts do not enter your own. You must be careful as you hear others’ thoughts and not take on emotions that aren’t your own. One can easily lose focus and become disoriented as all the thoughts become muddled into each other. You want to leave in one piece, so to speak. And you don’t want to harbor another’s ill will. You may then unknowingly be stripped of who you are, one silent thought at a time. There, I’m done. We will practice this exercise so you can complete it alone very soon.” Stephen nodded, giving her a blank stare, still processing all he had been told. “Too much information? You ready for more?” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Sure, I guess so.” “Okay, let me give you a rundown on the council. It’s composed of twelve elders. My mother is the head of the council and was instrumental in bringing you here. Initially they will inform you of many things. It may seem a bit overwhelming at first, but we are all confident you can handle it. Then they’ll have some questions for you, and you will have an opportunity to speak and ask questions as well. Stephen, it is very important that you do not speak verbally or nonverbally without being recognized. This is a formal council, and, while they will be forgiving to your blunders at first, it is a serious offense to be casual or rude in this setting. I will be right there with you and will intercede if necessary.” I do feel a bit underprepared, Stephen thought, shifting back and forth on his feet. “It’s all right. , we brought you here to help us. We want you to succeed, and you will. We’re almost there. See the door ahead? Now turn and face me. Take my hands. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath and feel the strength. It is your own. I’m only harnessing it. Do you feel it?”

Stephen did as he was bid and felt his nerves calming. “How did you do that?” he mumbled. “As I said, it is your strength, channeled directly to you. I just focused it.” “I must learn this. It’s swell!” Arista smiled at the look on his face as they approached the door. “Yes, you are,” she offered, as she pushed a button, and the door disappeared. They approached the crowd, and Arista gave a slight nod to the council. “This is Stephen, the one of whom we spoke.”

STEPHEN’S STRENGTH AND resolve eroded with each step he took toward the center of the room. The council was housed up above, looking down at him, like he was a prized steer at a state fair, just like the one he and Pa went to last spring. Stephen felt very small and insignificant as he stared at the group gathered up on high. Each was clad in a dark robe with a head covering of some kind, and all were adorned with a medallion, possibly the very same one he ed Whisterly wearing when they met. The mood seemed somber, and, although they didn’t appear to be talking, Stephen picked up on snippets of conversation piecemeal, like a radio station coming in and out of range. “Him? We have been waiting for this?” “To save—” “We’ve failed.” “No more.” “Death for all.” “How…lost.” Stephen shook his head as he focused and concentrated on one thought path at a time. He felt dizzy with the ebb and flow of energy, leaving and suddenly boosted, seemingly from an outside source. Is this what it feels like to leave one’s own time dimension? Stephen thought. As he felt his consciousness leaving him, he caught movement from the corner of his eye, and Whisterly stood, raised her arms, and spoke words imperceptible to Stephen. He raised his head and opened his eyes, seeing the very same glow from before, and it illuminated the council chambers and his being as well. Moments later, thought paths returned, along with his clarity of mind, and he found himself seated in a chair. “,” Whisterly said, “Stephen is our guest and not to be probed like some child’s science experiment. Everyone why we are here today and what our mission entails. Our very survival is at stake. Let’s start with some introductions. Stephen, I trust you feel well enough to move forward.” “Uh, sure,” but I’m open to other options, he thought. As he looked down at his

feet, Stephen could feel the stares of twenty-four eyes upon him, piercing and probing. Really, I’m ready. I was just fooling. He reminded himself, They know all. Must focus. With a new resolve, he slowly peered upward, waiting for introductions. “You know me, Stephen,” Whisterly said, “and my daughter, Arista. I am in charge of this council, and my daughter is next in line. Beginning at my left is Garrick. He is the most aged of us all at 290. He holds great wisdom and is highly esteemed among us all.” Stephen caught a small nod of his head and encountered a mental wall as he tried to probe Garrick’s thoughts. You will not enter where you are not wanted, Stephen heard loudly in his head. “Pleased to meet you,” Stephen voiced aloud. “Next to him is Riam, our next eldest council member at 201, then Kix at 155, Thinn at 110, Vinique 105, and Kaixin who is 104 years. Novaryous here is 103.” He shifted in his seat and sneered at Stephen. No doubt how he feels about me, Stephen thought. “Then there’s Hailo,” Whisterly continued. “Pawk, and Aero, the youngest at one hundred, besides my daughter at seventy-three. I myself am 146.” Stephen, visibly stunned, asked, “You are 146? You look so…young.” Whisterly smiled as she explained, “We age differently than your people on Earth, and most of us live an average life span of about 350 Earth years. So, on your planet, adjusting for several factors, I would be approximately forty of your Earth years, and my daughter would be roughly sixteen.” Stephen stole a glance in Arista’s direction. “Over time we have learned to combat and conquer most ailments, injuries, and deficiencies at birth. We know how to train and fine-tune our bodies for the best

long-term performance, and our dormancy-to-cognizance ratio is quite refined.” I see, Stephen replied telepathically, and, although this was interesting information, he couldn’t fathom what this had to do with him. What? Dormancyto-cognizance ratio? Well, let me see if I can add some explanation, Whisterly replied, telepathically as well. She continued. We are a people in decline. We have fewer and fewer young produced each year. The few we do birth are mostly in a laboratory setting. We fear we are our losing all of our biological ability to reproduce, and our scientists confirm that this capability is indeed failing. Whisterly paused, briefly glancing at Stephen, who she knew, through scanning his thoughts, was perplexed. However, she continued aloud. “Stephen, we need something that it appears you, and possibly a few others of your kind, can uniquely provide. Our scientists have been working for years and years on a solution to our dilemma, and I am simplifying this quite a bit to ease your understanding. Humans, but only certain humans, produce something that we need, that we as a race have lost the ability to produce, and are losing the ability to reproduce in a laboratory. Do you understand so far, Stephen?” “You want me to help you have babies?” Stephen asked. Garrick and Riam both scoffed, and Stephen could see they were having their own interaction with Whisterly. The boy doesn’t understand the gravity of our situation, Garrick silently imparted. Or his part in the equation, Riam added. Of course he doesn’t. His telepathic abilities are obviously not developed enough to ascertain this information from us. We must guide him slowly, Whisterly said. The rest of the council appeared to acquiesce to some silent poll. Stephen’s efforts to eavesdrop were plainly too primitive to interfere in the council’s communication. Whisterly continued. “Not exactly, Stephen, but, with your help, we should be

able to correct this deficiency we have developed over several generations now. This will first require some testing, to confirm what we believe to be true. After that point, it will become somewhat more complicated.” “What exactly must I do?” Stephen asked, as he squirmed uneasily in his seat. Novaryous spoke to the group. “The boy is not up to the task. He is visibly shaken, and we require much more of him than this. Council, I ask you, as I have in the past, why do we believe this Earth boy is able to function as we require? This is a most desperate measure, one I believe, as others on this council, is a mistake.” Stephen, unsure what would happen next, could tell the council was involved in a debate, obviously not for the first time on this issue, when he felt a gentle prodding. As he opened his mind, he heard Arista speak. They must feel your confidence. They must know you can help. They need to feel what I feel when I connect with you. I know you have no reason to help us, but, please, let them know you will fight for my people, if you are willing. Arista stood and addressed the council. “Give him a chance. Him and just a few like him are our only hope. You must give him time to understand and to adjust.” Aero curled his lip. “We are lost to depend on the likes of this to save our race. We are condemned, and we know it.” “My daughter, your princess, is correct. We, as a council, have agreed to this path, and, if we cannot act as a whole, I will dismiss you and strip you of your rights as .” Whisterly’s tone was vehement and filled with loathing as she continued. “I will not have another outburst from within the council.” Whisterly turned her attention to Stephen. “We have given you a substantial amount of information. We will break for now. We’ll come back together tomorrow after the council and you have had a chance to process what we have learned from each other. Thank you, Stephen.” Arista stood, and, after a wave of her hand, a door in the back of the room opened and guards escorted Stephen from the hall. Stephen heard in his head, so very softly, And this is only the beginning.

“That’s just great, Arista. Just what I was hoping to hear,” he replied, with a groan.

STEPHEN WAS LED back to his room by the guards who accompanied him. “I don’t feel like that was a big success. What do you two think?” Stephen asked. After no response was given, Stephen practiced his developing skills and delved into their thought processes. We have hope in you for our future, Stephen gleaned. And I hope I can oblige, Stephen responded. With additional attempts at communication he ran upon walls, and, understanding their purpose, he withdrew from the telepathic link. As the guards opened the door to Stephen’s room, he asked, “Am I to stay here? I’m not free to come and go as I please?” “We are here for your protection, and guidance. For now it is best to wait for Lady Arista to return. You will need an escort to roam the compound,” one of the two guards offered aloud. Stephen walked in, and the door closed behind him. He glanced around and took in his austere surroundings. The room was embellished with very little besides a bed, desk, chair, lamp, and a wardrobe of some description. Two unfamiliar drawings adorned the walls and evoked feelings of darkness with the intensity of the colors used. Above the door appeared to be stamped a replica of the same medallion that Whisterly wore. In his exhaustion the evening before, he had not even seen it. As Stephen continued to explore, he pulled on the knob of the wardrobe and met resistance. He pulled again to no avail. The cabinet was locked. If only I had X-ray vision as well, he mused. Stephen T, the X-ray vision monster. Moments later he was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door. “Stephen, may I come in?” He recognized Arista’s voice from the other side of the door. “Yes, of course,” Stephen replied. “Well,” Arista said, “that was an important first step, the first of many. Much more information must be shared with you by the council.” “Many didn’t appreciate my presence there. I could tell, and I’m just a novice at this.” “Yes, you are correct. They are older and set in the old ways. They do not like dependence on outside influences, and unfortunately you have been depicted as such by some.” Arista moved toward the chair and pulled free of an outer layer

of clothing. “Do you mind if I sit?” Stephen was caught off guard as he stared at her slender figure that had been revealed, and he fumbled for words. “Uh…sure. I…I have many questions,” he said, as he forced himself to focus. “And I have tried to pull answers from those around me. It’s not working,” he said, wiping his forehead. “Those walls you mentioned, they are everywhere. The only information I can hear is useless. Even you, you taught me this neat stuff, now I can hardly use it. What is everyone hiding? And why must I be guarded? Is everyone afraid of me?” “If you will allow me,” Arista said, “the council deemed that I could communicate more information to you one on one. Here, in a much less intimidating environment, we can talk freely, back and forth. Is this suitable for you?” “You bet. I’m ready.” “Let me begin then. We inhabit the planet Remeon. That is where you are. We have spent thousands of years becoming the people we are today. We are highly developed intellectually. Over hundreds and hundreds of years we developed and refined our ability for telepathic communication. It is a most efficient manner of exchanging and communicating ideas and thoughts, and it is our primary form of communication among our race. We also have very learned scholars, scientists, doctors, and theologians, as well as other professionals. Learning and continuing to grow are primary goals for our people. This is where you will step in. We generally do not have a very aggressive nature, but we will protect ourselves and fight for our lives if necessary.” “Am I to help you fight?” “We are hoping that proves unnecessary.” “But it is possible?” “Many outcomes are possible. We must wait to see how events unfold.” “I still don’t understand how a very common person, like me, can help your people. Surely with your sophistication, scientists, doctors, and overall knowledge, you can find the help you need.”

“Stephen,” she said, drawing closer, “you have very unique qualities, and your humanity is one of those inputs we seek. We have lost the spontaneity and freedom that we see in you. So much of our time and energy, and rightly so, has been focused on our looming problems.” “I’m sorry. This is still a lot to take in. I’m on Earth, then I’m on Remeon,” he said motioning with his hands. “I can read minds. I love that shit.” He heard a soft giggle through his rant. “Shit?” “Oh, sorry. Never mind. That just came out.” “The translation was interesting.” He took a deep breath and refocused. “I hope I can help, like your people think I can. When will this testing that was mentioned take place? And then I’m going home? This is an awesome adventure, and I doubt anyone will believe me, but, when I’m finished with the task, will I be sent home?” “When that time comes, it will be up to you.” Stephen felt his heart skip a beat. “You mean, I could choose to stay among your people?” “Yes. I believe that could be arranged. But that decision must wait…wait until your task is done, and you have more information. Your formal testing will be soon, but now…it is not appropriate.” “Not appropriate? Why not? Let’s see if I am exactly what your people need so there is no doubt.” “There really isn’t a doubt, Stephen. We have spent hundreds of years searching the universe for an answer to our predicament. We have studied. We have traveled. We have lost men and women in our ranks during this time, who have died to learn more information about our solution—about you, Stephen. As was mentioned, you, and a few like you, are uniquely prepared to answer the need of our situation. And you, we feel, are the most suitable candidate. Not only do you meet the physical requirements, but you display a hunger for knowledge and

adventure as well—traits we ire, traits that are becoming extinct on Remeon.” Stephen felt a strange combination of uneasiness and elation. Me? Me. The answer to a world’s problem? I usually am the problem, he thought. “I say let’s get started,” Stephen blurted out all in one breath. “Let me begin my test and task.” Arista paused, as if considering. Stephen attempted to read her. “There is a time line, and it is imperative that we must comply with it, or we will fail. As you are our only hope at this time and the one we have invested our resources in, failure is not an option. Also there is one more thing you need to know at this point.” “What is it?” Stephen asked as he eyed Arista with trepidation. “We are a sick people. Not only are we in decline but very, very sick.

THE NIGHT BROUGHT welcome relief to Simon, as he silently found his way among the damp wooded path. The moons above provided all the illumination needed for his travels. With the evening came a short reprieve from his leadership duties and being cooped up all day beneath ground. Beginning his nightly foraging and gathering routine, he stooped to pick berries along the route. This will go well with our midnight meal, he thought. Time was limited, he knew, so he scanned the nearby area for branches and forest debris he could take back for building a fire. Many depended on these teams who left the hidden compound to gather what food and supplies could be found. Every resource was important. Nothing could be wasted. And all must be sacrificed for the greater good. Even though there were others who could perform these tasks now, he welcomed the time alone with his thoughts. For years and years, many more than he cared to count of his seventy-three years, he had been completing this same evening ritual. He ed back to when his mother was alive and made this nightly trek with him in tow, guiding and teaching as they walked. Still, today and every day, he greeted each evening with anticipation, since it brought a temporary escape from the constant daily struggles. Below, life was hard. Some believed him too young for the tasks thrust upon him. On the contrary, he believed himself to be uniquely qualified, and had the discipline and vision to see it through. He had watched many of his loved ones and friends suffer and ultimately die from the illness which plagued his people for as long as his memory served him. The decision to move underground was made shortly after his birth. The discomforts of the disease, coupled with the harshness of the sunlight, made travel during the day difficult. Over time they found their people used fewer resources if they slept during the day and worked in the evening. As more and more resources went to the sick and dying, the resources became scarcer. Since that time, almost a generation now, they moved underground and lived their waking lives nocturnally—coming out at night to gather necessities, like plants for medicinal purposes, and to travel as needed. Stories that had been told and shared year after year set the departure date very close to his birth. Their tribe of Night Dwellers had once been a part of a thriving megatropolis. In that grand city they had all lived together, the Day Watchers and Night Dwellers, back before any need for distinction existed, a time he himself couldn’t personally . Once people got sick and died

from their illness, the division among the people was clear and decisive. One sector wanted to focus resources on keeping the sick and dying artificially alive, while another faction wanted to focus all resources on finding a cure. The Night Dwellers were the latter. Over time the virus quickly mutated, and, as the years ed, eventually it would affect one’s ability to bear children. As the scientists came up with options and conducted test after test, it soon became clear that the most promising opportunities lay off-world. “Humans,” as they were called, had been enduring a similar disease and, from their tainted blood, came the hope of a vaccine of sorts and eventually a cure. As a people, the Night Dwellers and the Day Watchers both had spaceships to roam the galaxy and medicines to cure most ailments, plus reasonable stores of food resources to feed everyone and technological options for almost any problem; however, the two groups could not come together and cohesively solve the one problem that threatened to bring both sides to extinction. With that knowledge the two factions parted, most leaving at least some family behind if they chose to walk with the Night Dwellers. Now the race for a cure was on, to find and place a human on this world to test and then to globally distribute the remedy to the people before all had died or lost the ability to procreate. Clearly one faction would be the victor, thus subjugating the other to death and pain. The Night Dwellers would claim that position, healing their people and avenging the decision made years ago, due to the excesses of the Day Watchers and their council leader, Whisterly. He sneered. This had been his life’s work and daily focus. Simon and his team trained during the day to become pilots. A mission was currently in the works to capture a human and to conduct further testing to finalize the vaccine, as well as the cure that was on the horizon. Due to miscalculations, the first endeavor of this type resulted in the human candidate dying during testing phase, before the two groups parted. Some thought it unfortunate. Simon did not. It was actually a win of sorts. Both factions had scientists that maintained these initial results. He knew they must obtain another who had the power to offer life to his people again. Too many were dying. This second subject’s testing had to result in complete success and the development of a cure. Nothing else would do.

The current search had yielded one uniquely able to help; however, the Day Watchers were conducting tests as well and hampering the Night Dwellers’ ability to proceed. The deadline was short, and preparations were underway, as it appeared a window of time may have opened in which to gather a subject, gain what was needed, then return the human. If the Day Watchers got to him first, they must simply take him by force. Although the two groups’ allocation of resources differed, their ultimate goal was the same—the survival and eventual healing of their people. Some of the Night Dwellers hoped for a reconciliation between their divided race. Simon did not. Due to their vastly different approaches, both sides knew this would not occur on this side of a cure. Both had irreversible plans set in motion that could yield life-sustaining changes for them. Simon pledged his healed Night Dwellers would win this battle, and justice would prevail. He never wanted to unite again. He would work with those weak-minded Night Dwellers who held this mind-set and help them to see the light, as he had already done successfully for so many under his special tutelage. The Night Dwellers were otherwise prepared and committed, and they could fight. Their soldiers trained daily in preparation for the anticipated conflict. Their weapons were somewhat rudimentary, most of their stores gained from their off-world travels and conquests, coupled with the weaponry they brought with them underground those many years ago. Nevertheless, their defensive armory was effective and got the job done. Simon took a deep breath and focused his thoughts back to the task at hand and returned to his gathering activity for the evening, choosing only what was necessary and leaving immature fruits and plants for future expeditions. He felt purposeful as he fulfilled the needed items for the morrow. No matter how small the task, he realized that he and others like him out this night were completing their daily part in fulfilling their mission. As one of the few left who were still disease-free, Simon had many additional leadership responsibilities falling to him that were once left to others, now gone. The question was, would he be fully ready to lead? Or was he still a child, as some believed, incapable of the difficult decisions? He knew the answer, but others must realize it as well. He absent-mindedly surveyed the contents of his sack. I will prove to them, and they will believe and see, just as I do, that I have been trained and molded to serve and lead my people since birth. And now is the

time for action—whatever it takes. He felt a smile cross his lips in sweet anticipation. It was palpable; the excitement churned within him. He couldn’t wait!

“WAIT. LET ME make sure I understand. All of you are sick? Even the council? You? Everyone?” “Yes, everyone is sick. That is, everyone, except me.” Hurriedly Arista continued. “I know this must be terribly confusing for you, but let me explain a little further. This illness has been haunting my people for generations. After extensive testing, we found the virus to be stored in our genetic code, so all our young were born ill as well. Unknowingly we were replicating this illness and proliferating it among our people. As the disease has progressed throughout the generations, we have seen the damage develop within many organs, mostly the reproductive organs. We have virtually lost the ability to naturally reproduce. The children we do have now are conceived in a science laboratory. Our doctors and scientists have tried to kill this virus so many different ways, but, until now, they have only been able to slow the progress of the disease. It has killed thousands, and all are doomed to die.” “And why do you believe I can help, with odds like that? You do know on my planet I am sick too—very sick, virtually unable to walk without assistance— with an illness called polio. I believed I was in a dream here in this world, since I seem healthy, here among your people. So you must understand why I question my ability to help those here.” “Stephen, I don’t pretend to understand all the science involved. Our study of the universe, its planets, and people has proven that those on Earth can best help our race, and you are one of the few with the characteristics we need. During our travels we harvested samples and conducted tests in the hope of finding a healing solution. Only one has been partially successful, Stephen, in that the experiment confirmed what was needed from the cell in order to produce the healing serum.” “Why only partially successful, if it confirmed what was needed for complete healing?” Arista paused and nervously licked her lips before continuing. “There is no easy way to say this. The subject that we harvested cells from died in the process.” Astonished, Stephen paced, shaking his head in disbelief, as if to rid it of the last sentence he heard. “So that is what you expect from me? To die to save your people?”

“It is possible. You must know the full truth. However, we have learned so much from that first attempt. We believe this time will be a total success. Then we will have a serum for all of my people to take. If you choose not to participate, we will send you back. It will be difficult, and some may wish you harm, if you choose to return home without helping us. But we can accomplish your safe return to your life as you it.” “Take me to one of your scientists. I want to hear more about the illness and what my chances for success are.” Stephen tried to access Arista’s thoughts but only encountered walls and a trace of fear. He eyed her suspiciously for the first time. Why would she be afraid? He worked quickly to shield his thoughts, knowing she would be probing his mind as well. “This is a somewhat unusual request,” she finally said. “However, give me a moment to speak with my mother and see what can be arranged.” Arista stepped away, creating distance between herself and Stephen, mentally as well as physically. As she came to a stop in a far corner of the room, she closed her eyes and raised her head, remaining transfixed for many minutes, trancelike. Eventually she turned toward Stephen and slowly closed the gap between them. “We believe we can accommodate your request,” she replied with a slow tentative smile. “Whisterly will meet us.” She continued on. “We are going to some of the lower levels of the compound. You must stay close, and some of the areas are restricted, so your access will be limited.” Stephen nodded his acquiescence, as Arista communicated quickly with the guard, who opened the door, immediately falling into step behind the pair. “Thank you,” she voiced aloud, “but your presence is not necessary.” The guard stopped, nodded, then walked in the opposite direction, his footsteps echoing in the ageway until they could no longer be heard. Stephen couldn’t stop the sinking feeling as it overtook him with each successive step the guard took, putting him farther away from their location. “Follow me,” Arista urged, as they traveled down multiple levels in the compound. “Whisterly and Mr. Santar, one of our renowned scientists, should be waiting for us,” she added. The two continued on, each quiet in their own thoughts. Finally maybe some

answers, Stephen thought. He kept his own musings behind the barriers he had constructed, then attempted to pull together the few facts he knew. “Here we are,” Arista interjected, breaking the silence. She opened a door, and they came to a stop in a totally empty room. “But where are they? Wait here while I find them. I can feel they are close. I’ll only be a moment.” “Uh, sure, okay,” Stephen replied. Minutes came and went. Curious, Stephen poked his head out from behind the unclosed door. I’ve got to grab this chance. Quickly he was in the hallway and down another corridor. He heard raised voices in his head. One was Arista’s, and the other he didn’t recognize. Drawn by the tone, he picked up his pace. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said but caught words here and there. “No, I won’t…” “Secret…” “Not ready.” Following the voices, Stephen rounded the corner and found himself in another huge empty room, glass all on one side. As he walked in, he was inundated with thoughts and emotions all at once. Whispers. Cries. Agony. Pain. Sorrow. The strength, number, and wails of pain in the voices overtook him, and he fell to his knees, cradling his head. Still he was drawn to the glass, compelled as he crawled, slowly making his way closer, closer. In his mind he heard Arista. Stephen, where are you? Her voice soon mingled with the others, and he heard hers no more. The others cried. These voices were louder and more demanding of his attention. Who are you? he thought, as he neared the glass and pulled himself upright. A feeling of foreboding overcame him, and his throat constricted, anticipating what he would encounter behind the glass. He inched closer. Balancing and leaning on the glass, he focused his concentration beyond the barrier. He was confused, as he saw rows upon rows of beds filled with people. Must be hundreds of people in there, he surmised. Maybe more. He quickly surveyed them to see if he happened to recognize anyone. Wait… No. Whisterly? He pasted his face harder against the glass and homed in on her. Sure enough it was Whisterly. All kinds of equipment and tubes were hooked up to her, and she

appeared unconscious. Close by was another he recognized—the old irritated member of the council, Garrick. He looked to be in the same condition. They all seemed to be in a similar state. How can they be here and out there? Their pain and agony overtook him, and, he couldn’t concentrate enough to keep the voices, thoughts, and emotions from intruding. “Please make it stop!” he heard himself shout, “No more. I can’t…take…it.” Time slowed down as his muscles gave out, and his legs crumpled beneath his weight. As he lay on the floor, his hands and feet jerked wildly out of control, electric shock waves shooting from them, sparking visibly through the air. This is truly it, Stephen thought. He watched like a bystander, as Arista and others he didn’t know hurried into the room and attended to him. “We’re too late.” “There’s only one thing we can do.” Stephen’s eyes felt heavy; he worked to keep them open. Still they slowly closed. He fought. If I can just stay awake, he thought. He heard a soft whisper in his ear, “Until we meet again, Stephen.” Then all went dark, and there was silence.

WHY DOES IT feel like such a struggle to open my eyes? Thomas tried again but was unsuccessful. He heard snippets of conversation and attempted to connect with his mind but felt nothing. “Arista,” he whispered. “Where are you? I have so many questions. You must…come…back.” The words were taking a toll on him, and he was exhausted from the effort.

LIKE SO MANY times over the past few weeks, Elizabeth and James looked at each other in disappointment—their hopes dashed once again. Thomas was never quite coherent, but he was speaking words here and there, just not anything that made sense. Horrified, as they watched day after day, their son labored to breathe, assisted by an iron lung. One day ran into two, which ran into another; days became weeks, and now weeks were turning into a month and beyond. Time and time again they were told how different their son’s case was. “So unusual to have coma for this length of time, especially secondary to the first onset. Yet encouraging signs of speech. Brain function seems intact.” Since his birthday Thomas had been in the hospital for almost five weeks. Elizabeth witnessed her son fighting for breath often over the past weeks, and her heart ached. Never once would she let herself believe anything other than her son would recover. Day by day now, his words were more frequent and his eye movements strong. She knew he would wake any day, then they would take on whatever would come next. “One day at a time,” James reminded her. “One day at a time.” Elizabeth watched her husband cross the room and take a seat by her side. She heard him sigh deeply next to her and place his head in his hands. She knew James felt he must remain strong and stoic for his family. She felt the same. They were dying a little more each day that their son remained in a coma. Truly helpless, they could do absolutely nothing that would help their son—that is, except to pray. Ministers and priests had come and gone, offering prayers and blessings, with no visible result. Time ed, and their son’s recovery seemed no closer. Would God truly take our only son? Or would Thomas remain a cripple the rest of his life? What kind of life would that be, and how would they care for an invalid son for a lifetime? One day at time. One day at time. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Today is all I must deal with. A knock brought Elizabeth back from her somber thoughts, and she and James both looked up as a nurse walked through the door. As was common, vital signs were taken, and adjustments made to the workings of the machinery that ed their son’s life. The nurse encouraged them. “Your son’s vitals grow stronger each day. The doctor will be in soon, and we plan to disconnect him from the iron lung. The

indications are that his respiratory system is strong enough to handle his breathing on its own.” Elizabeth and James reached for each other, their gazes locking, each knowing what the other was thinking. Should we dare to hope? Could this be a new beginning? As the nurse prepared to pull Thomas from the iron lung, the doctor entered. Elizabeth and James focused their attention on him expectantly. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Stewart. Let’s begin. I do think there has been substantial progress.” While the nurse disengaged Thomas from the equipment, the doctor instructed the parents. “Speak to your son clearly. Ask him to answer you. Speak angrily if necessary. We want him to feel the need to pull himself from this state. We believe he is able.” In and out, in and out, she saw her son’s chest rise and fall, breathing on his own. Elizabeth felt encouraged and spoke first. “Thomas, sweetheart, we are here. Speak to us. We’ve been waiting for so long.” Thomas shook his head from side to side, as if in disbelief, or frustration. Elated, she faced her husband. “Now you, Mr. Stewart,” the doctor said. “You must implore him to answer you. Use a strong tone of voice.” Elizabeth reached for her husband’s hand. James nodded his head, and tears welled up in his eyes as he mustered a stern tone. He spoke, and a lone tear escaped down his cheek. “Now, son, I’ve told you a hundred times. Get out of that bed. You must come take care of these animals at once!” “Yes, Pa,” they heard, as their son softly replied, “I’m coming.” Thomas opened his eyes, blinked, and looked around. “Arista? Where are you? You left and never returned. Come back.” Elizabeth and James rushed to his side, both now crying from relief and happiness. “Son, you were dreaming. You’re in a hospital. You have been here

since the night of your birthday. You gave us quite a scare.” The doctor interjected, “Don’t mistake, it will be a long road, but I do believe your son will recover. He is made of strong stock, and his determination and will brought him through.” “Thank you, Doctor. Will we take him home soon?” Elizabeth prodded. “One step at a time.” The doctor continued, as Elizabeth and James stole a knowing glance. “We must move him to a regular bed and increase his strength first.” “Yes, one step at a time,” James and Elizabeth said, optimistic for the first time in weeks, “One step at a time,” they said again as they shared a brief smile.

THOMAS SURVEYED THE room, totally confused. I’m home again, or maybe I never left? He took in his parents, obviously relieved, the hospital room, and what is this? “Oh, my gosh. I’ve been in this thing all this time? Ma? Pa? You must fill me in. I’ve been having the wildest dreams. What day is it? I’m all confused.” Elizabeth and James looked at each other, knowing they must tell the truth. “Thomas,” Elizabeth said, “It’s June 22. You’ve been in the hospital over a month now, but that’s all right. You will go home soon, and that is all that matters.” He stared incredulously at them both, as he thought of the time he was out. Stephen, Stephen. Don’t forget me. It won’t be long. Thomas looked around, expecting to see Arista, and said out loud, “Where are you? Why have you gone?” “Son, we are right here. Now don’t frighten us like that,” his pa answered, his voice tinged with fear and worry as he searched his son’s face. “I’m fine, Pa. Really I am.” Thomas thought, as he pulled off a weak smile for his parents’ benefit. Actually I’m sure I’m losing my mind.

THOMAS STRUGGLED BACK to health. The days were full of interruptions by nursing staff, visits from various doctors, many special exercise sessions, and peppered with visits from family as well. But Thomas grew stronger every day. Breathing was no longer difficult, and all the long therapy sessions were helping too. Braces would again be necessary, and, while he was now resigned to this fact, he was most eager to leave the hospital to continue his progress at home. When Thomas closed his eyes, sometimes he felt transported back to Remeon. He imagined himself there. His thoughts rested with Whisterly and Arista, as he contemplated his time with them. Uncertain as to what he should share, Thomas kept quiet about his “adventure.” He hadn’t heard Arista since the night he woke up in the hospital. Could this all have been brought on by my illness? Is it possible I “dreamed” all these vivid details of another planet, a world filled with people, who live lives full of danger, sickness, and intrigue? I was telepathic, Thomas thought. No one would ever believe me. I’m sure they would just think I’ve been reading too many comic books. Lost deep in thought, he didn’t even hear Belle and Ma come in. Belle took the opportunity to sneak over to Thomas and wrap her arms around him, enveloping him in a miniature bear hug. Thomas managed a smile for his biggest fan, and she bounced down on the hospital bed next to him. “Hi, son. How are you today?” Ma asked. “I brought you more comic books,” Belle interjected. “Feeling fine, Ma. Thanks, Belle. That’s just what I needed.” “I’ve got great news, Thomas. The doctors have said tomorrow is the day, two weeks since you woke up and came back to us. You’re off the iron lung, breathing normally, walking slowly on your own—” “With the braces,” Thomas said, clarifying. “Yes, with the braces, but you are much stronger,” she replied, beaming back at him. He thought, I do feel stronger. But I feel so much different here than on Remeon. It’s like I’m handicapped here, but there I’m an equal with the power to save

whole generations of people. That is, until I crashed and burned. Thomas had spent a lot of time thinking about what had happened to him on Remeon, right before he found himself back on Earth. Those last few minutes, looking through the glass, Whisterly was there, and others he recognized from the council. Those must have been all the sick who Arista mentioned. They looked unconscious, but how could they be there and out in the compound as well? The memories were fuzzy, becoming less and less clear, the longer he was away, the more difficult it was to . He didn’t want to forget. He did know one thing. The whole lot of them, they had not been truthful or maybe had just conveniently left out a big piece of the story. When, or if, he saw Arista again, she would have a lot of explaining to do. Belle spoke quite loudly, interrupting his train of thought. “Did you hear Ma, Thomas? You are coming home tomorrow! We have all missed you so. The house has been so lonely without you there,” Belle concluded with a small pout, for emphasis. “Yes. Yes, I heard, and I will be chasing you around again before you know it, so you better watch out.” He laughed. “I’ve got some catching up to do.” Thomas grabbed Belle and pulled her in for a hug, tickling her, as she giggled uncontrollably. “Thomas” Elizabeth said, “tomorrow is July 6. The summer is half over. Would you like some of your friends to come by? After all, you missed the Fourth of July festivities, and we didn’t feel much like celebrating with you not home. What do you say?” Thomas paused, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “What is it, Thomas?” “Well, Ma, I’d really like for things to be quiet. Promise me, just us for a few days. I want to spend some time with you and Pa and the girls,” he said, as he squeezed Belle into his side, bringing forth a new cascade of giggles. “I don’t know what’s happened to me, but I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot.” “Certainly, as you wish, Thomas.” “Mary’s making something special.”

“Shhh,” Ma insisted. “Belle, honestly be quiet now.” “Yes, Ma,” Belle replied sheepishly. As they spoke in quiet tones, Thomas was left to his own thoughts once again. Tomorrow is July 6. Where had all that time gone? Was I here? Did I dream up all my time on Remeon? Why, I’ve practically missed a whole growing season. Thomas focused, as he was taught, and willed himself to pick up Arista or Whisterly, even a faint inkling of their presence. That would be all he needed, just enough to convince himself they were out there somewhere. Arista, Whisterly, speak to me. Let me know you’re there. Tell me what’s going on. I miss the excitement of life there. Tell me, will I be coming back? Have you decided I can’t help you? Have I failed a test? I’m sure I broke a few rules. Maybe I saw too much? He pulled himself back, waiting, and heard nothing in return. He felt foolish. Belle and Ma brought Thomas to the present with talk of food and his homecoming. He was eager, no doubt, for some of Ma’s cooking. Absolutely nothing was better. Visions of vegetables cooked up fresh from the garden made his mouth water, along with mashed potatoes dripping with butter, and biscuits with sausage gravy were all on the supper menu for tomorrow. As visiting hours came to a close, they smothered him with hugs and kisses, and, after lingering for a few more minutes with promises of home, they left. Sleep did not come easily for Thomas. He was tired from all the tests he had endured earlier in the day. Now left to himself, sleep came fitfully, interspersed with visions of bountiful harvests of food, and rows and rows of beds all matched to faceless people hooked up to machines which did the work of life for them. His breathing came in short bursts, in time with the equipment, and, as he opened his eyes and fought to concentrate, he heard the rhythmic whir of machines forcing air into his lungs as with all the others in the hundreds of beds surrounding him. Strapped in and unable to speak, he brought forth a soundless scream. And oddly, in his mind’s eye, the scream was multiplied and answered as others’ cries and agonies were forced into his consciousness.

“NOT AS PLANNED. Not as planned,” Garrick murmured more to himself than to anyone who might be listening. He had spent much of the evening pacing in his chambers, weighing the options for his next move. The council would convene again tomorrow, and he must take control. Novaryous was with him, as well as Riam, and others would follow. He paused staring at the medallion around his neck and scoffed. This means nothing. So what? I’m a council member. The council can do nothing with a weak leader. We must stop this nonsense before it’s too late. Take what we need for the survival of our people. Then put the human back on Earth—dead or alive. It really makes no difference. We must do what is necessary. The complication of keeping this human alive, like some sort of pet, was madness. We found out what happened last time when we tried that. His energy level declining, mid-thought Garrick reached impatiently for some nourishment. As the cool slippery material went through his system, he immediately felt refreshed once more. This should last me until later tonight, when I can plug in and regenerate, he thought. Garrick paused to further consider the facts. So much the boy has seen now and still doesn’t understand. All the more reason to go forward without further subjecting him consciously to the details. Time is of the essence… If the others, those Night Dwellers, find Stephen before we can get him back, they’ll capture him, force him to help their side. A knock brought Garrick back to the present. He opened the door, and Novaryous and Riam walked in. “Greetings, my friends. Take a seat. We’ve only a short time before we convene as a full council. What say you both on this matter?” Novaryous, eager to confirm his opinion, spoke first. “I stand with you, Garrick. You know I do. However, addressing the full council will take tact and patience as well,” he said, nervously wiping his forehead. “Whisterly and the princess have the advantage, and the majority of the council will stand with them.” “Yes, yes,” Garrick hastily replied, “but this vote will require us to be unanimous. We all believe the boy has what we need. The called meeting is just about how we will proceed with obtaining it. And since this decision affects another species, we must agree. It is written so.” “All we need do is dissent. This will cause enough discord among the other that we may persuade the group as to the inconsequential nature of this human,” Riam clarified. “However, we must quickly move. We all know other

forces are at work here. We can’t afford to lose Stephen for good. There is no time to start over. Too many to count are dying each and every day. It’s my own race I’m concerned about, not some no- human.” “Agreed. It is now time to come together with the group. Let us be as one,” Novaryous exclaimed. “We must,” Riam chimed in. “Let us go forward.” Ceremoniously the three men gathered, clasping shoulders, and leaned forward until their foreheads met. “So it will be,” Garrick finished.

WHISTERLY SURVEYED THE of her council, here and there catching snippets of their thoughts. She knew the conversations she heard were idle chatter. Mind probing, on the other hand, was something that would probably prove most fruit-worthy; however, she did not enjoy this activity. Hopefully it would be unnecessary. Communicating to all, she signaled the start of meeting. Arista made her way to her seat, and the others filed in after her. As Whisterly watched her daughter, her face softened. She noted how much she had aged. She truly looks as if a weight is on her shoulders. Even though the stress of her position was beginning to show to those who knew her well, her demeanor was unchanged. She carried herself regally as she always did, and her pale blue gown fit her exquisitely, modestly clinging to her maturing figure; she was a beauty. All I do is for her and the future of my people, Whisterly rationalized. With an imperceptible nod, she brought the meeting to order. The session continued for several hours, and still no decision was made. As this involved the life of another race, the council’s decision necessitated a unanimous vote. All knew this to be the case. Whisterly summarized, “I believe we all can agree that we need Stephen back to fully engage his ability to ultimately solve our dilemma. He proved helpful, curious, and even brave, as he tried to ascertain his ultimate task. We are all aware his holographic body depleted itself, and, as a result, he resumed his life on Earth but not before viewing the gravity of our situation.” Whisterly paused and scanned the room, assessing the weight of her words. “However, our test was successful, in that he is a willing and able candidate.” With this last comment, a fresh wave of chatter begin. “As I said before,” Garrick began, “take him and use him. If he lives, fine. If not, that is no consequence to us. We are the superior race, and we should take what we need by whatever force necessary.” Waves of independent conversations erupted in small pockets. The full council could sense those who felt similarly and those who did not. Whisterly continued through the broken bits of chatter. “As you are aware, a unanimous vote is the only way forward in this circumstance.” “

W e are the ones in need, not Stephen,” Arista broke in. “If he is still willing, we must aim to preserve his life, as we know he will be trying to save ours. Need I remind you all that I am only here in full form since our prior experiment was successful? That is, with one exception, our donor died. We must prevail, but not at the expense of those offering their very being to help us.” “Well stated,” Vinique agreed. Others assented, and the tide seemed to be turning. Whisterly quickly covered her reaction to her daughter’s words. They were substantially false, and in one sense ironically true also. But Arista had believed them to be true. That was what mattered. Her delivery was successful, and no one could probe for information that she didn’t have. Whisterly took a mental tally, noting those still not fully in agreement. “Be mindful of our foes, who are every bit in this race as much as we are,” Whisterly warned. “While we debate, they are delving into our plans and building their own knowledge base. Keep in mind, if they obtain the cure and replicate it first, there will be all-out war, and we will likely all die as we struggle to defend ourselves against a healed race of Night Dwellers. We must win this battle! Now let us vote again,” she implored. Whisterly hesitated, feeling especially strong hatred and emotions emanating from one member. As the vote proceeded, she could tell several betrayed their heartfelt thoughts and one in particular. This member will require the utmost exceptional care, she noted. Arista, my little one, ponder this in your heart. We must keep this one close, or else we may fail.

HIS FIRST NIGHT home Thomas had a better night’s sleep than he could in quite some time. Free from machines and the nurses’ constant interruptions, he had a peaceful rest. The nightmares of Remeon had even subsided. If for only one night, it was a welcome respite. Odd how unfamiliar “home” had become. He had truly been unsure if he would ever be back, and his walk through the house when he was in his dreamlike state on Remeon had been disturbing. Confronting himself in that manner was a surreal, uncomfortable experience. He had not found a way, as of yet, to share with his family what he had been through, at this point still unsure himself of what exactly had occurred. He had been told upon awaking from his coma that it had been five weeks since the evening of his birthday when he collapsed. Piecing together the facts in his head, apparently he was taken to the hospital, brought home for a short time when it appeared he was improving, then taken back only a brief time after that. He ed none of this upon waking in the hospital. His parents reassured him it would take a while to acclimate himself again and what he was going through was normal. He wasn’t convinced. He called out to Arista at regular intervals, just to see if he might get a response. Each time he was disappointed. He heard nothing, at least for now. But something told him that Arista, Whisterly, and the council weren’t done with him just yet. While he sought to fit the pieces together, he would keep the details of his experience to himself. Besides, what would he tell them? Even to himself, the very person who had lived through it, it sounded like a desperate dream or the fantasies of a teenager. Remaining silent for now seemed like the better choice. Life had a way of marching on, Thomas was aware, whether or not one participated. From a rocker on the back porch he had a good vantage point of the fields on their property. Pa must have gotten some help, he thought. Everything appeared to be in top form for the season. Harvest time would be here soon. In fact, Pa had brought up a bushel of corn that looked to be ripe for harvest and ready to be shucked. For just one day out of the hospital Thomas felt he was doing quite nicely, maneuvering with the braces again. They were lighter this time, and he didn’t have to wear them all day. This—along with the fact that he felt more competent, confident, and adept at handling them—subjugated the braces to an inconvenience instead of a life-altering change. One day soon he would be without them entirely.

The day was very warm, yet a nice breeze blew, making sitting and relaxing a comfortable pastime. Thomas’s intent and his father’s hope was that Thomas would return to full health in time to help with the harvest next month. Questionable as that was, it still brought encouragement to a return of the normalcy of farm life. The doctors said his health was uncertain, and the timing of healing was quite individual. It was “normal” to have some progress followed by an apparent period of decline. So much about this disease was still unknown. But the doctors did agree that a full healing would take place over the time frame of months and even years, not days. This was a bit discouraging, but all indications now were good, at least for the time being. Unspoken was the fact they all knew how quickly things could go downhill. Thomas had experienced it firsthand. And the toll had not just been taken on him. He could see the stress and worry reflected in his parents’ eyes and hear it in their tone of voice. His sisters were constantly checking in on him, especially Belle, who smiled with relief every time she saw him, as if her expectation were to find him helpless once again. Even with all this taken into , Thomas found life had been so odd—and, for him, particularly painful—with hospital stays intertwined with his visions and time on Remeon. He struggled with determining fact from fiction. The here and now, reality, felt uncertain, with his thoughts returning to the planet Remeon over and over again. He reflected on Arista, Whisterly, and the council, and their next moves. Their lives depended on the next steps taken. Whether he was involved or not, this would still be the case. Even enjoying the calmness here on Earth in comparison, he craved and missed the excitement he felt on the strange planet. He found himself daydreaming about Remeon instead of engaging in real life. He secretly hoped he would return and play a part in healing their race. Even though he didn’t know everything or fully understand it all, Thomas prayed he would have the opportunity to find out. So much had changed within him in only a few short months. Some bad, some good, but he wanted to see this through. If only I had some control, even a little, he thought. A soft voice brought him out of his reverie. “Hi!” Thomas heard the energetic little voice spout out.

He turned with a smile. “Hi, Belle. Would you like to help me out with the corn?” “Well, I dunno. I guess I could,” she replied, sitting in her own chair and enthusiastically rocking back and forth. “You know, Belle, I keep with me all the time the special rock you gave me. The flint too.” Thomas dug in his pocket and revealed the heart-shaped rock. Right next to it in his hand was the flint, still wrapped in the dark blue material. Belle glanced down to his hand and beamed back at him, her smile reaching ear to ear, as her legs dangled, swaying back and forth in the rocking chair. “Okay, let’s get started. You know how it’s done.” Thomas grabbed three or four ears of corn from the basket and threw them in her general direction. “Hey, run in the kitchen and get a big bowl for this corn. Maybe we can have it for dinner tonight.” “Right, okay.” The screen door slammed, and Thomas heard Belle’s footsteps retreat through the mudroom and into the kitchen, then a much slower, heavily footed walk as she returned with a bowl so big that it hid her face from view. Together they set at the task of pulling husk and silk from each ear of corn. Since they had done this task so many times, they were quick and efficient at their chore. Lost in thought and covered in silk from the corn, he didn’t notice Belle silently walking to the edge of the porch, or her confusion as she stopped and stared in awe. When he finished the job, he turned to yell. “Ma! We’re—” Mesmerized, his eyes focused on a frozen-in-place Belle; he stood, covering the distance slowly to her. His jaw dropped, and instinctively he put an arm in front of her, forcing her to take a step back. “Thomas, what’s that?” she said, pointing to the distance, arms outstretched to the pasture in front of them. Suddenly a burst of light shot out at them, blinding them momentarily, and they both jumped instinctively, losing their footing. Thomas tackled Belle, while, at the same time, instructing her to crawl to the screen door and go inside. “You’re scaring me, Thomas!”

“Go now, Belle. Hurry, inside to Ma and Pa.” Belle raised her head slightly, as she spoke tentatively from her crouched position. Her eyes focused beyond Thomas, as they filled with tears. “You come too. You promise?” “I will, now go!” Belle stifled a sob but did as she was told and disappeared into the house. Thomas stared only a fraction of a second longer at the screen door, glanced down at his impaired legs, and unable to reject his impulse, made for the pasture and the two gigantic flying balls of light hovering there.

AS THOMAS GOT closer to the pasture where the two ships hovered, his pace slowed. The brilliance of the lights made it difficult to see and navigate. Looking directly into the lights, he lost his balance and was temporarily blinded. He squinted, shielded his eyes with his hand, and tried again, gazing upon the normally familiar afternoon sky that had come to life with overpowering light and a vivid display of machinery, unlike anything Thomas had seen before. He had no estimate as to the size of the crafts. Big, he thought. Within his immediate field of vision, nothing else could be seen but these two hovering machines. Thomas took a closer look and saw a series of lights bursting from one flying object to the next. Like one outflow of light was in answer to the other. Almost like communication. The bursts of light continued, and Thomas’s mouth moved but made no sound. He watched the display in awe. Not cognizant of his surroundings, only focusing on the sky above, he didn’t realize others were gathering, having seen the show in the sky as well. His neighbors, old and young alike, had formed somewhat of a semicircle behind him. And Thomas, unknowingly, became the focal point of the assembly. “Thomas, son, don’t you go no farther,” a neighbor warned. Thomas turned, momentarily brought back to the present by the comment and recognized Mr. Martin, the husband of his teacher. “It’s okay,” Thomas replied, not truly knowing if it were so. “I won’t get too close.” “You’re already too close,” Mr. Martin replied, breathing heavily. Thomas felt Mr. Martin tug on his shoulder, as he was urged backward into the crowd. After a few moments of struggle and maneuvering, he squirmed through the maze of people again and found himself back in his original forward position. His gaze glued to the sky, he didn’t see his little sister, who came from behind, keeping a safe distance so as not to be seen by Thomas. She put one shaky foot in front of the other, until she was within a stone’s throw of her big brother. Her placement gained, she too turned her attention to the landscape, overtaken by the ships in the sky.

Shouting and screaming erupted from parts of the assembly, as well as intermittent scuffles here and there. Parents and children alike were armed with whatever they could find and seemed poised for a fight. Thomas hoped it would not come to that. He thought back and ed a time when a coyote had killed some sheep, and the neighbors had banded together to hunt it down. It had been exciting to in the hunt then, but the energy of this crowd was different. Moblike. The crowd shuffled him from side to side and continued to grow larger and larger. He could feel the pulse of the gathering change from a curious nature to one of outright fear, and he was herded that direction as well. His pulse quickened as he thought of Whisterly and Arista and the mission they had selected him for. Could they be here for me? One of the onlookers aimed and fired a gun at the objects in the sky that were ultimately hopelessly out of range. The mass of people shifted nervously, and everyone wanted to see who had fired. Brawls and fights ensued as disagreements erupted, followed by more gunfire. Bodies were shoved together, and the air carried a pungent odor of sweat intermingled with gun powder. Thomas scanned the mob to identify someone in the crowd who might calm these people he knew as neighbors. More shots rang out, echoing in his ears, and, as he glimpsed the facial expressions of those he knew so well from church, school, and Pa’s business dealings, Thomas understood. No one could help. They were all overtaken by fear and panic, and weren’t making decisions based on reason. Thomas came to his senses and decided to leave. He hesitated, reluctant to go, then took a step toward the house. Yet, even with the danger, he wanted to be a part of this new chapter in history as it unfolded. Then he saw her from the corner of his eye—his sister Belle, with giant tears running down her face. Moving as fast as his legs and the crowd would allow him, he made his way to her side. “What are you doing here? I told you to go to the house,” he barked loudly over the rumblings of the crowd. “It isn’t safe here. Now go,” he commanded. Her tears continued faster now, and Belle put her hand over her mouth to silence her cries. “I saw, Thomas. I saw! And I was afraid for you. Did you do this? Is this

happening because of you?” she asked through her tears. Thomas felt her trembling as he held her. “Let’s go,” he whispered in her ear, more calmly this time. “This is no place for you to be. People are acting crazy.” They walked toward their house together. Several more shots whizzed by just above their heads, and Thomas shielded his sister to provide what cover he could. “Don’t move,” he directed. And she froze, as she was told. An unnatural silence filled the unruly group where there had been chaos moments before, all eyes on the glowing sky as beams of light forced themselves onto the onlookers below. Thomas, facing his sister, saw the look of disbelief in her eyes as her gaze stared upward. He couldn’t fight the urge to turn toward the light. Once again he was blinded, but this time he could not look away. The light he saw was pointed in his direction, the beam directly on him and his sister. “Okay, now,” he instructed Belle, “fast, crawl, move!” Stephen, we are here, Stephen. “No, my sister, it’s not safe for her!” All was quiet. Their breaths came in short bursts and intruded on the silent stillness of the pack. Thomas tightened his grip on his sister, determined not to let her go. In a flash of light, she slipped from his grasp. Thomas groped about frantically. Directly in front of him was blackness, nothingness, and space. She was gone.

THOMAS AWOKE WITH a jolt as the stench of urine and animal remains brought him to the present. He sat up, disoriented and nauseous, and looked around anxiously to gain his bearings. “Belle! Belle, answer me.” Nothing. No answer or even the faintest noise responded to his pleas. Darkness enveloped him like a thick, suffocating blanket; breathing was difficult as he gasped for air among the sick smells assaulting his senses. The now all-too-familiar feeling of panic rose in him once again as his thoughts returned to his little sister and the strange ships in the sky, haunting him. Feelings of fear and panic alternated within him, like being hot and cold when he had a fever. His eyes adjusted somewhat to the darkness, and he made out small details around him. Using his hands, he combed the walls for clues or any useful information. His first instincts brought to mind visions of cold, clammy, dark caves. The walls were wet and uneven, and appeared to be made of rock. He plodded his way around the perimeter, taking small steps, looking for signs of an opening or exit. He marked his starting point by placing a foot-long rock on the ground, close to the wall, so he would run into it and know when he had made it all the way around. When he encountered the rock again, the only additional information he had gained was that the structure was somewhat oval in shape and made of some type of rock, as he had envisioned earlier. After two more times around the space, he thought he felt cracks along the wall that could possibly be where the door was located. He placed two more rocks at that juncture, identifying that space as well. A chill came over him from the cool dampness of his surroundings, and he thrust his hands in his pockets to stay warm. He found his pocketknife, flint, and com there, and he felt comforted but knew these wouldn’t help him just now but later…maybe later. With every slight movement, his braces clanked noisily, reminding him of their presence. That, in conjunction with the fact that he could not connect with Arista or Whisterly, made him question if he were actually on Remeon. All he could do was remain where he was and hope he didn’t starve while he waited for his captors to make themselves known. Time ed slowly as he thought back on all that had happened in just a few short months. Reflections from his stream of consciousness flowed unabated. Utmost in his mind were the precariousness of his current situation and wondering where Belle was. But also everything else that had happened to him recently which played a part in landing him right here. He had wished for this,

all of this. He had wanted adventure; he had wanted distance from his family— mainly his pa. He had wanted to grow up on his own and had plans to make that happen. Next, thinking back on his unexpected illness and the toll on his family, Thomas clearly saw in his parents’ eyes, when he woke in the hospital, how much they loved and cared for him. But amid the adventure and danger found on Remeon, he had felt needed in ways he had never experienced on the farm. Could he really save another race? And would he sacrifice himself to do so? Adventure was one thing but, surveying his current surroundings, dying quite another. And he hated to it, even to himself, but he felt something for Arista. It was scary, and he didn’t even want to name it. He felt uncomfortable and uneasy around her. His ways were childish and his actions unimportant in her presence, which was undeniably quite regal. He was worried about his little sister. The last he ed, he was huddled close to the ground with her, due to the outbreak of gunfire in the crazy crowd. Now where was she? Was she safe? Was she scared? He had no idea. All these pieces of disconnected thoughts from the past months paraded through his mind like flickering moments at a picture show. He fought to keep his eyes open. His limbs jerked awkwardly. He dozed, and ed in and out of sleep. Thomas felt his energy escaping him as the chill and dampness in the air settled in and permeated through his body. How long will my captors wait before they show themselves? Surely Arista, Whisterly, and the council were not behind this. They needed him, didn’t they? Thomas curled into a ball, hoping to keep in some warmth and to conserve energy, and then fell into a fitful slumber. A slow, steady skritching noise startled Thomas awake, as a small path of light spilled into the dark room. The door—it opened! He began to move. But his stiff, achy, cold muscles and tired body were not fast enough to reach the door while it remained ajar. An object was pushed into his cell, and the door quickly slammed shut. Unaccustomed to the bright light, his eyes had to adjust again, while he felt his way toward the center of the room to retrieve and examine what had been left for him. He bumped into a tray filled with stuff, confirming what he had hoped for, before tasting it.

“Food!” he voiced aloud, momentarily unconcerned with the remaining items there, and then plowed through the contents of the platter. He ate hurriedly, shoving it in his mouth with both hands. Not concerned with enjoyment, only volume, he ed he had had no dinner last night, since the sighting in the sky had interrupted all, including food preparations. Thomas ate his fill and found a liquid substance that he downed as well. Underneath the platter was a thin, long scratchy blanket. Grateful for the warmth, he wrapped it around himself twice, unconcerned with the stiffness of the fabric and barely noticing the moldy smell emanating from it. Drowsy once again, he realized his food and drink must have been drugged. Contented with a volume of food and a modicum of warmth, he fell into a much deeper sleep this time, and he ed into total oblivion.

MARY WORKED SILENTLY and efficiently in the chill of early dawn. So much had changed in only a day’s time; again their family had been taken from hope to despair in only an instant. The stories were quite unbelievable, but, even now, only a day after the incident, tales were coming in from other states regarding UFO sightings in the afternoon and evening of July 7. Neighbors and lifelong friends alike said the same thing: some flying object came and took Thomas that afternoon; and Belle, who had evidently been with him, had been stunned into silence and had not spoken one word since yesterday’s strange, unsettling events. Mary replayed the prior day in her head to solidify the timeline of events. The commotion had reached a fever pitch as all ran to investigate. Pa careened out the door and down the hill toward the unruly crowd in just a few quick seconds, while she and Ma followed on his heels and arrived only minutes later. The women paused, clasping hands in silence, watching Pa tenderly scoop up a seemingly unresponsive Belle. Mary felt Ma’s strength leave her body, as her footing became uncertain, and she stumbled. All attention was frozen on Pa and Belle. Pa covered the short distance quickly and placed Belle in Ma’s arms as she stifled a sob. “She seems to be all right. Try to get her to talk. I’ve got to find Thomas,” Pa had gasped in a panicked tone. Then he was gone. “Belle, honey, it’s me, your ma. Talk to me, sweetheart.” Belle gazed silently into the distance. She blinked but showed no recognition or emotion. Ma tenderly moved a curl from her baby girl’s face that had fallen from her carefully placed barrette earlier that morning. Ma rocked Belle back and forth to a tune only Ma could hear. Incongruent to the scene of chaos all around —women and children crying and screaming, men yelling for family , an occasional gunshot, and random fights and skirmishes—Ma continued to rock, holding Belle close, as if in a bubble in time, keeping the world at bay. “Ma, let me try,” Mary shouted over the din consuming them. Ma didn’t loosen her grip as she turned Belle’s face toward her own and talked to her, shaking her while Ma spoke. All to no avail and Ma continued to rock. Time ed slowly as they stood there cocooned with Belle.

Pa reappeared, alone; his face reflected a stoic, intense stare. “Let’s get Belle to the house, then I’m going into town,” Pa said. An eerie silence settled on the house this morning without Belle running around or Ma about her kitchen chores or the now familiar noises of Thomas’s braces as he moved. Mary wondered what knowledge her pa had gained from his trip to town, and stifled the urge to pound on his door and find out the answers to all her questions. She knew, however, upon further reflection, that Pa would have already shared any bits of information he had picked up while in town. After drying her hands, Mary walked the short distance to her parents’ room, softly knocked, and, opening the door, confirmed what she had already guessed. Neither Pa nor Ma had slept in their own bed last night. Mary walked back to the kitchen and added a mug of hot coffee for Ma to the biscuits with butter on the breakfast tray, which she had prepared for Belle. Mary was sure her ma was exhausted, but maybe she would eat a little something too. Realizing now that the animals needed attention as well, Mary picked up her pace. As she climbed the steps, Mary prayed that she would find Ma and Belle awake, sharing quiet secrets in the light of early morning. But, when she opened the door, she found Ma dosing in the rocking chair, and Belle still asleep, a bundle of curls peeking from the covers in the center of the bed. Mary set the tray on the nightstand, then called softly, “Ma.” She jolted awake, and Mary saw the sadness in her ma’s eyes, even as she spoke a whispered good morning. “Did Belle talk to you last night?” Mary prodded, hoping. “No, dear, but maybe today. We’ll see. Did you see your pa downstairs?” Ma asked, reaching for the hot coffee. Mary paused and met her ma’s unwavering gaze. “I don’t think Pa came home last night,” Mary said quietly, looking down now, wringing her hands, “and Thomas is still not back either.” Tears flowed down her cheeks, and Ma stood to hug her eldest child, rocking her like Belle yesterday, yet today Mary was the recipient of its calming effects. Mary broke away and moved to the bed and unwrapped the sleeping bundle

there. Ma sipped her coffee and nibbled at bits of the biscuits on the tray, her eyes still focused on Belle. Belle’s eyelids fluttered and opened. Mary managed a smile as she pulled her little sister in for a hug. She felt no response. She sat back, looking into Belle’s eyes from arm’s length. “Did you sleep all right, Belle?” Mary asked. Both Ma and Mary waited with bated breath for any response. Belle simply stared straight ahead. The solemn innocence in her eyes broke Mary’s heart. Mary reached for her baby sister’s small hands, neatly enveloping them in her own, bringing the little fingers to her face. When she squeezed tightly, the blood pumped rhythmically, belying the lifeless facade in front of her. Ma ed her daughters on the bed, and they fell into an embrace, each pining for their missing son, their missing brother in silent desperation. “It will be all right. We will find Thomas,” Ma assured them both. “Belle, you know how your brother is. At times he doesn’t want to be found.”

JAMES FELT LIKE a man as he roamed the streets he knew like the back of his hand. He didn’t really know where to begin his search but realized his son liked to be in the thick of it all. There must be a simple explanation. Thomas could have possibly made his way to town as part of the mob, due to all the commotion, through no real fault of his own, and is now hiding out, waiting for things to settle down. James focused on the sights around him. He could see the town had been thrown into chaos. Police were dotted here and there, but obviously not enough as looting was clearly in progress throughout the town. Small crowds of people could be seen gathering about, with accompanying arguments and skirmishes breaking out as a result. James had no time for that nonsense; he needed answers from someone who had been in that field and had seen his son. James picked the biggest gathering and made his way to the center of the crowd, noticing friends and neighbors as he plowed a path into their midst. Not really sure of his next move, he spoke loudly and distinctly, yelling, so the whole gathering might hear. “Hello. Hello! Could I have your attention for just a few minutes?” Nothing, no response. “ Hello ,” James said again, this time calling specific individuals in the crowd who he knew by name. “Bert, John, Keith, did you see my son in the meadow, during the commotion? I’ve gotta find him. Tell me what you saw.” Bert and Keith turned toward James and acknowledged their friend. The glance was all he needed. James pulled the three of them clear from the crowd and, out of breath now, said again, “Tell me what you know now.” John and Keith looked at each other, then back at James, clearly not sure where or how to begin. James studied their faces. Was it sadness or pity he saw there? Keith spoke tentatively. “Well, uh, James, it’s hard to know what happened tonight. People are saying all kinds of things. Most of it makes no sense really.”

James grabbed Keith by the collar and yanked him close, bringing his face within inches of his own. “What did you see? My son is missing,” he hissed, one slow, desperate syllable after another. John stepped in. “James, come, sit, have a drink. We’ll talk.” He pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam. “I don’t want to sit. Maybe you didn’t understand me. My son is missing. Do you hear me?” The larger crowd dissipated and moved toward the intimate, but more volatile gathering. Keith, having pulled free, looked at James’s broken expression and spoke. “Yes I saw your son.” James took a breath, momentarily relieved, and opened his mouth, about to speak. “But”—Keith leveled his gaze at James—“I haven’t the slightest idea where he is now.” James’s expression shifted. “Go on.” “I didn’t see your son at all,” Bert quickly interjected, as if unable to hold it in any longer. “I told your son to get farther away. I even pulled him back,” Mr. Martin said as he ed the group. James recognized the husband of Thomas’s teacher’s as he spoke. “Everything was moving so quickly. I didn’t see him again until the lights came. The lights found your son, shining and focusing on him. Then he was gone.” “What do you mean, gone?” James prodded. “I mean, he was there one second, then gone the next. I can’t be no clearer than that.”

The crowd grew noticeably silent, as all focused on James. Then another voice spoke up, and James recognized Bill, a neighbor and family friend, who said, “I saw the same thing. I was there with your young’un. Then the bright light came, and he was gone.” Others chimed in and agreed, one by one. The crowd seemed to be of one mind. “This makes no sense,” James spoke out loud, more to himself than anyone in particular. A strong hand rested squarely on James’s shoulder, and he jumped, quickly spinning around. The uniformed officer offered a sympathetic smile, then spoke. “James, it’s difficult to tell where Thomas might be. Honestly there are so many stories that we are still trying to find out what happened. Indications are it’s not just our community that experienced this strange event. Reports on the radio state many quite odd occurrences have been reported elsewhere. It seems we aren’t alone in what happened here.” James digested what he heard from the officer, David, a close friend from childhood, as the crowd, driven by its loudest participants, began milling their way toward the next confrontation. James reached out and grabbed the bourbon from John, murmuring a quick thanks before he was out of earshot. He unscrewed the top and took a healthy swig, contemplating his next move. He had to keep looking but where? How could he possibly go home without Thomas or at least answers? His family would be looking to him for both. “James,” David said, “let me walk home with you. We’ll talk this through and figure out your next step. If Thomas doesn’t find his way home by morning, we’ll fill out the paperwork and have the force officially search for him as a missing person. I’ve already alerted all officers on duty to be on the lookout for him. They are searching as we speak.” “Much obliged,” James said softly, the weight of all the words spoken now fully sinking in. “But, if others are out looking for my son, I can’t sit idly by and wait for word. I must be busy searching too,” James said, as he tossed his head back, taking another substantial gulp. “Why don’t you get some rest tonight and the others tomorrow?”

James just stared at the officer for a moment. “David,” James said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “did you hear what they were saying about spaceships and bright lights? Do you believe it? Did you see it too?” “Well, I wasn’t there in the field today, but the basic elements of the story as told by many bystanders seem to be the same—loud noises, two vehicles in the sky, a bright light, then the intruders were gone. Some standing close to your son said he disappeared with the bright lights. I’ve been told others are missing as well, but those statements have not been substantiated.” David and James drank as they silently walked past the field near the family farm and made their way closer to the house. “Chances are Thomas will find his way home tonight,” David said, but James didn’t believe his words and didn’t think David believed them either. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” Then, firmly patting James on the shoulder, David left. Lost in thought, James didn’t the rest of his walk home. Back at the house, without his son, he didn’t want to go inside and face his family. Instead, he turned toward the barn and finished off the bottle of bourbon in his hand. “Why, Lord, why? What have I done to deserve this?” he spoke out loud for only the animals and heaven to hear. His muscles twitched along his jawline, pulsing in and out. His heart raced, thumping loudly in his ears, as he drew his arm back and threw the empty bottle, smashing it against the barn wall. Is this it? Is this how it ends? Tears filled his eyes and clouded his vision. Isolated and alone, he let the despair that had been creeping up on him for the past several hours overtake him. He slid to the ground. Banging his fists on the straw-covered barn floor, he allowed his tears to fall.

THOMAS WOKE SLOWLY, his head in a distant fog. As he tried to put words together, he could only mumble incoherently. He moved to sit upright and met with resistance, as he yanked both arms, then both feet. He pulled a little harder, struggling, willing strength into his sluggish muscles, hoping to break free of his bonds. “It is of no use. Conserve your energy. Screening is underway. It won’t be long until we have concluded initial testing. Afterward you must rest. This will not be easy for you. Your body is still recovering from the hyperspace jump. It will be some time before you feel normal again.” Thomas turned toward the voice he heard, and focused as best he could. “Who are you, and where am I?” he asked. “Why have I been tied down? Release me. And what is this all about?” The man let out a sinister chuckle. “You may have noticed that you are not in a position to make demands. I will share with you that my name is Dr. Timmon, and I have been assigned to your experiment.” “I am back on Remeon then?” “Back?” The man’s laughter continued. “There is much that you don’t know, and I’m not the one who will reveal additional information to you. Suffice it to say, however, it sounds as if you have been misled.” Thomas lifted his head, raising his eyebrows, “Misled? By who?” “You will hear nothing further from me. Now lay still.” “Sounds like a good idea.” Thomas’s eyelids drooped, and he fought to keep them open. But the longer he lay there, the more difficult it became, and so he lightly dozed while a small team led by Dr. Timmon worked on Thomas, taking samples, subjecting him to test after test. The doctor broke the silence, startling Thomas awake. “I’m done for the time being,” he said. “Don’t move. You will not have the strength to even get up from this table,” the doctor warned. “I started a drip to help with the energy depletion. Be still, and let it work.”

Thomas could tell from the doctor’s tone that he cared very little for Thomas’s personal well-being but rather was tasked with keeping him functioning. Thomas’s head was spinning, and his stomach was rejecting what little food he had consumed. Although he was sweating, his arms and legs trembled. Since he was tied down and had no way to warm himself, he shook and shivered, his braces clattering noisily on the cold table. “Thanks so much for making me comfortable,” he yelled after the doctor as he left the room. “I guess I’m staying for the night. Thanks for your hospitality.” Thomas’s thoughts fixated on his sister, while he wavered in and out of sleep. As he closed his eyes, he relived the look of terror in Belle’s eyes as the bright light shone in her face. Belle, where are you? he thought as he fell into a restless, feverish sleep. Dreams tormented him as he slept. Images flickered in and out of his field of vision like a continuous ticker tape: Belle, the farm, his motorcycle, his parents, Arista. His eyes fluttered open. I feel awful, he thought, as he tried to stretch his arms and legs. Thomas took in his surroundings. He saw a young man—possibly his age, maybe older—studying him intently. “Who are you? Someone to take me back to the stinky dungeon, where you’ll starve me while I’m waiting on you to stick me with more needles?” The young man shrugged. “Possibly but that depends entirely on you.” Thomas squirmed under the man’s penetrating stare, which sunk into the very fiber of Thomas’s being. The stranger’s demeanor was calm and calculated. He is obviously trying to scare me into compliance, Thomas thought. “How does it depend on me? I’m the one drugged, stuck to this table.” The man nodded his head in agreement. “True, but you can cooperate, which will make things easier on you, or you can resist, which I wouldn’t recommend. You see, we are at war here for our very survival. We will do what is needed, Thomas, to ensure the survival of our race. We will take what we need, or you can make the wiser choice and help us willingly.” Thomas felt a pinching sensation in his stomach after he heard his name, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. “How do you know my name? What is yours? And where am I exactly?”

The stranger walked closer, circling Thomas, then stopped a few feet in front of him. “Well, you and I had some nonverbal communication, where I learned a great deal, which will help us on an as-needed basis and…” “Nonverbal? You mean telepathy? I thought you weren’t allowed to do that without someone’s consent?” “Ah… Yes,” he said, nodding. “Let’s get that cleared up. You’re not in the compound anymore. Whisterly does not control us here. We do what we must. I know your ‘true’ name because you gave it to me. Still you can choose to help us willingly,” he said, “or I will use that information to its greatest advantage.” “So, while I was drugged, you pulled information from me.” “I asked you questions. Yes. Intruding telepathy was not necessary. The drugs provided your uninhibited response. However, if necessary, I would have used telepathy to gain the information I needed.” “I see,” Thomas responded, hoping to sound cooler and calmer than he felt. “Still haven’t told me your name, true or otherwise. You do have me at a disadvantage.” “Allow me to set that straight,” he said with a grand bowing motion. “My name is Simon, which is the only name of mine you will ever know. I’m committed to helping these doctors heal my people. For better or worse you are part of that solution. Whisterly and her tribe are not quite as noble as they would have you believe. Your sister was almost a casualty of your capture. One of our men died interceding on her behalf, due to Whisterly’s attempts to grab you first.” The scene in the meadow once again came rushing back to Thomas. The bright lights, the screaming, the guns, and Belle. Then everyone’s stunned silence as the crafts hovered in the air. It had all been real. He ed tackling Belle in a protective instinct. Was she dead or alive? He couldn’t trust Simon. But how would Thomas know? These two “sides” were involved in a tug of war of sorts, and he was the prize. Whisterly and Arista had come for him; it’s what he had longed for deep inside but not at the expense of his family. He needed more answers. After all, he didn’t understand how he came and went the first time. Maybe, if he played his cards right, Simon would give him a few answers of his own. He gritted his teeth, his

hands forming fists, as he thought of his defenseless little sister, alone, scared, and vulnerable. “Is she all right? Was my sister harmed? None of this was her fault, and she is not infected as I am with the disease that you are curious about.” “As I said, one of our men died in her defense. Once we captured you, Whisterly’s ship left in pursuit of us, or, I should clarify, in pursuit of you. They didn’t stay behind to survey the injured. They are more narrow-minded and desperate than you know. And they will stop at nothing to gain their goal. You are a resource to be mined, depleted, and discarded. Surely you saw through their disguise to their true nature and intent?” Thomas remained quiet. Disappointed by what he heard, and hoping in disbelief that his time with Whisterly and Arista had not been all based on deceit and lies, he listened while Simon conveyed a much different scenario of events than Thomas had heard at the compound. How could he tell which version was the truth? Tuning back in completely to Simon’s rant, he heard the rest of what Simon had to say. “And, yes, you are on Remeon. But this is your first actual visit here. I’m just scratching the surface of the lies you’ve been told.”

GARRICK PACED, WAITING for his comrades, his frustration building. What fools we are, he thought. We have bungled this in the worst way! All the years of suffering, then all the time of subsequent planning, testing, and failure after repeated failure! They all should have listened to me! Me, who had it right from the start. Me, who knew what it would take. The sacrifice, the cost, and the suffering, so that our race might prevail and become again the dominant force in the universe. He felt the approach of Novaryous and Riam, and, reaching out, implored them to enter. “Hello, my compatriots. Time is short, and I believe we are all of like mind, are we not? Our lame council has failed to act with expediency, and we have lost the target. Are we strong enough to do what must come next? Or will we fall in line with those weak souls we are forced to call leaders?” Garrick led them to a spacious room, where they each took a seat around a table. “What we are proposing is cruel, even by our rudimentary standards,” Riam said. “Our code of ethics—that we agreed to when ed with the council— prohibits our intentional harm of a member of another race. While I am with you, this does cause me pause and concern over the long-term impact this might have on our council and even possibly our race.” Novaryous glowered at Riam. “What race?” Garrick asked. “If we do not act, our race will die out, become extinct, as we wait on our council to proceed. The Night Dwellers have our prize, the culmination of decades of research, testing, and planning, in their hands. We let him slip through our fingers. Now we must get him back. Novaryous, what say you? You know the stakes. You know the proposal. Do you trust our council to act in our best interest, the interest of the Day Watchers?” “I have no problem with another race dying so that ours may live.”

“WE APPEAR AS fools,” Riam said. Nervously he stood and paced, hoping this action might cover the feelings he now had trouble keeping below the surface. If he put up defensive walls in his mind, his councilmates would become aware of his doubts. He continued speaking, all the while his uncertainty growing ever stronger. A child was now a part of this, of no use at all to either side, involved in this life-and-death battle, being set up as a pawn. Surprised at himself, he felt sickened by it. But, unwilling to betray his unsettling thoughts, he focused again on the conversation. He paced in the opposite direction, maintaining his tone and composure, as deep in his mind he recalled the council’s shock and the unsettling decisions that now had to be made, all because of the events of the prior day: I thought it best to wait for your return, Captain, Whisterly said, for a full explanation in person as to what exactly happened here. You have not brought back Stephen, as the council ordered, but Belle, his younger sister, who has no medical benefit to us. And this was accidental? No, ma’am, the captain said. Her life was in danger by the interference of the Night Dwellers. She could have been killed or worse, captured. Instead of engaging in open battle among the humans, once Stephen had been captured, we protected his sister and retreated to base. The only way to ensure she would be unharmed was to bring her back with us. I see. However, your questionable decision has placed us in a truly untenable position. We never planned for her involvement. I believe we must quietly return her at once. This will be a decision for the council to ratify. I will call an emergency meeting for the morrow and then we will proceed. Understood, ma’am. Riam paused. He lifted his head, his eyes bulging, as he faced the two council he counted as friends. Garrick and Novaryous were silent and stared at him. Riam attempted to cover his mental tracks of the past few moments and then realized it had, indeed, been longer than a few minutes. How long had he been lost in his own reflections? He felt the intrusion. They were inside his head. How careless he had been. As Novaryous and Garrick inched toward their victim, they locked their consciousnesses into one, actively probing his thoughts. A sickening crackling noise erupted in Riam’s head. Wide-eyed, he opened his mouth to scream. No sound came and then only deafening silence as the

telepathic rape ensued.

WHISTERLY SHIFTED IN her bed uneasily, feeling steadily more uncomfortable as the minutes ticked by. Still asleep, her mind reached out to find the source of disharmony. She sensed no immediate resolution, then was fully awakened. Immediately connecting to Arista, she found her daughter at ease and in peaceful slumber. This is fortunate, she thought, reaching out for the slippery coolness that would bring her temporary nourishment. Now fully functional, she sought a connection to all the council and, one by one, made mental . While she completed the bond with each in turn—Hailo, Kaixin, Vinique—her mind wandered to her most recent problem at hand: Belle. The choice to leave the child on Earth seemed prudent at the time; however, she knew dissension existed among her council . For now, a leak of misinformation would keep all from knowing the truth immediately, while buying time with the Night Dwellers. A decision had to be made quickly, and this wrong corrected, but, for now, she and Arista must let their plan play out. The hologram projection would not fool anyone for long but maybe just long enough to promulgate their plan. This child could help lead them to Stephen, if they were careful. Given the opportunity, however, there may be those who would take advantage of this innocent youngling. Clearly their mission had failed. Stephen was not with them and had been captured by the Night Dwellers, but this secondary mission involving Belle was important as well. And lastly a stealth mission must be organized to bring Stephen back to where he belongs, so the important work of a cure could be continued. Pawk, Aero, Thinn… Novaryous, Kix, Garrick. Riam… Where was he, and why could she not connect with him? Was there a problem with his rejuvenation cycle? Only seconds later Whisterly felt the panicked touch of her daughter, as Arista’s mind met her own. Something has happened, Mother. I feel a forceful malevolent presence. It is among us and very strong. I feel it as well. I was just checking in with each council member and have connected to all but one, Riam. Arista, we must convene. Prepare at once to call an immediate emergency session. We cannot wait until the morrow. We will poll each member—and hopefully reach Riam as well—and determine and deal with the source of this imminent threat.

THOMAS SPENT HIS days ruminating over his current predicament, suffering through more testing, with short intervals of interview sessions thrown in here and there for purposes of intimidation, he guessed. The doctors appeared pleased with the tests they were performing and seemingly with the progress they were making. “Happy to be of assistance,” Thomas yelled back, as he was once again returned to his dingy, cold, foul-smelling cell. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Simon leaning on a far wall. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Thomas sneered. “Normally you just awkwardly probe my brain. Now you actually want to talk?” “Look, I am doing what is needed—no, what is required—for my people to have a chance at life, a chance that those Day Watchers, who you love, want to take away from us.” Thomas garnered his most determined look of loathing that he could muster and stared in Simon’s direction. “As usual you have me as your captive audience, so just continue with whatever method of torture that you have planned for me today. I really don’t care what you have to say.” “You certainly sound more clearheaded. That would be the drugs wearing off. We’ve almost concluded our testing.” Thomas gave his best feigned-gleeful impersonation in quick response. “Ah, good. Quick wit as well. So this is the real Thomas.” “Unless you have information on my sister, you can continue to probe me for what you need. I’m not engaging with you, you sick bastard.” “Well, be careful what you wish for. Actually I do have some recent intel, including the status of your sister.” Thomas’s surprise was apparent as he gasped in desperation. And, a second later, in one disted motion, as if another being had taken over his body, he lunged at Simon. Easily sidestepping and expertly tripping Thomas, Simon grabbed one of Thomas’s arms and slammed his face into the rock wall, then pinned him to the damp earth. “I see I have your attention now,” Simon retorted through clenched

teeth. “So either sit up and listen, or I leave you in here to rot. Are we clear?” Simon threw Thomas aside. Thomas rubbed his raw jaw and slowly sat up. “You bet.” “Good to hear. So, if we’re on the same page now,” Simon said, pointing to Thomas, “I’ll continue. We have ears in the compound. Your sister is there and safe for the moment, although definitely a loose thread. Her captivity could complicate many plans.” “Whisterly would never harm her,” Thomas broke in. “Whisterly is not always as benevolent as you seem to think. At one time we lived in harmony, before the period when the devastation of this disease was all that mattered. She turned away half of our world’s population, her hopes based on a technology that would temporarily extend her own life.” He paced back and forth, taking his time with each step. “You see, she actually thought she could determine who would live and who would die as she cast us out. To her chagrin, we have persevered, and now we have you.” Simon stretched his arms out in a mock welcome. “We will beat them to a cure.” Based on Simon’s tirade, Thomas wanted to know so much more, beginning with his sister. “How much information do you have on my sister?” “I told you that she is alive. I don’t know much else. My turn. Do you know what to do with one of these?” Simon turned around the weapon in his hand to show Thomas every angle. It looked heavier and had more parts than the .22 Pa had taught Thomas with. Hopefully the guns would be similar. “Yes, I know how to shoot a gun. Only my targets have been bucks and an occasional bobcat or two.” “Excellent, then you can learn how to shoot one of these quickly.” Ignoring his response, Thomas plowed on to his next question. “What do you know about my previous visit on this planet?” “There was no previous visit. You have been on Earth until our craft picked you

up.” “No, that’s not true!” Thomas said. “I was here. I met Whisterly, Arista, and the council. I stayed at the compound. I was introduced to people.” “Were you really? How do you know exactly? Did you notice anything different about yourself here than on your home planet?” Thomas thought back. Yes, there were differences… He didn’t have braces during the prior time here on Remeon. And oddly enough he didn’t sleeping, unless drugged. He didn’t think much of this since it all seemed so much like a dream anyway. When back on Earth, he had repeatedly questioned if his experience had even happened at all. Was there more? Thomas thought hard… The food, it had been strange, but he had chalked that up to his new environment. Now here, when he ate, it was the same as at home—not good food necessarily and not enough, but fulfilling and energy sustaining. The differences would be difficult to explain. “There were differences.” “I thought so. As I said, this is the first time you have been here. My guess is Whisterly had a trial run, to see if everything would go smoothly. You remained on Earth, but part of your consciousness was pulled here.” “I don’t understand. How could that be? How could I be in two places at once?” Simon sighed heavily, shaking his head and speaking again, this time a little slower. “Get this through your head. You were not actually here before now. The technology I spoke of earlier was used on you. The Day Watchers have spent quite some time perfecting it. Many there are living this lie—among them, Whisterly and her council . This is life-extending technology. Those who you met were visions. Their true forms lay sick in hospital beds. When you are a hologram, it ‘feels’ real. You can eat, which is actually intricate programming you are ingesting at required intervals. That goo you ate wasn’t food at all. You can ‘cry’ and ‘feel’ your heartbeat, even sweat. But it’s all an elaborate lie, which you have fallen into. All those resources poured into a fallacy, when we needed them to save the dying.” Thomas jerked, startled back to the memory of his last moments at the compound, when he “returned” to Earth. The vision came to life in his head: the

rows and rows of beds, and the pumping and whirring equipment. He was sure that Simon was telling him the truth. “You’ve been deceived. They didn’t think you could handle the truth. The question is, how strong are you, and are you ready to fight?”

THEIR HOME WAS a ghost house, only a shadow of what it once was. No laughter filled the air; no joking and no jovial banter was heard. The familial way of interacting between one another was now replaced by an automatic system of need and response. Care of Belle was of paramount concern. The necessities of life were fit in by order of importance: care of Belle, search for Thomas, food, and farm, in that order. As the days ed since Thomas’s abduction, each day seemed just a little longer than the previous one. Chores and daily activities took much longer during the day or didn’t get completed at all, due to family concerns and ongoing searches for Thomas. Family interactions lacked the loving overtone that had always been there, since all were self-absorbed, dealing with the imminent loss of Thomas and the strange stillness of Belle. Both parents stoic and strong, they turned inward as a defensive mechanism. Still in shock and unable to deal with the devastation in front of them, they plowed through the days by clinging to the hope that Thomas would walk through the door and that Belle would return to her usual animated self. It has only been a week, James thought, as he surveyed his field. Harvest time was upon him, and he knew he would need to hire day-workers to help bring it in. Crops were withering on the vine, but that paled in comparison to thoughts of losing his son. He found this too painful to share with Elizabeth. They shared so much—their easy everyday love and companionship, their children, their love of God and family. But if they talked of Thomas in the past tense, that would make this loss real. Each knew in their heart that, with every ing day, the possibility of finding Thomas became much more remote, but somehow this still seemed easier to bear individually. He was ashamed to it out loud that he was reaching the limit of what he could bear, and taking on his wife’s grief in addition to his own felt completely overwhelming. His faith was shaken as he stood in the field surrounded by rows and rows of unharvested crops. All the same, he offered up a brief prayer. “God, we’re lost without Thomas, and Belle is a silent shell of the little girl she was a week ago. Be with our family; give us strength, bring Thomas back home, and wake our Belle again.” James brushed away tears from his cheeks, but they continued to flow unchecked. He was beyond the point of caring, and walking to the edge of his crops, he sat, letting his mind think back to a time that included his son, a time where his vision of the future was more certain and his family

whole. “Pa?” “Yes, son.” “Do you think we’ll ever be done with this harvest? There is still so much to do.” “Absolutely we will. You see all the workers in the field with us?” Pa asked, pointing. “They each have a section to gather, as do you and I, and together we will finish ahead of schedule.” “I what you said, Pa, but there still seems like a lot of ground left to cover.” “You’ll be thirteen soon, and we’ll be talking more and more about the plans for the growing season, from planting all the way to harvest. This will make more sense to you when you can see it totally laid out. You’ve been involved in parts of the process all your life, but now you need to see the big picture, and then it will fall into place. Understand?” “Pa?” “Yes?” “You do a lot of planning and estimating and bargaining and figurin’ and all sorts of stuff that’s not actually planting, watering, and harvesting. It is a lot of time and lots of work. Do you ever wonder if it’s worth it? All the time and effort?” “No. No, I don’t. I know it’s all worth it when our family has fresh supplies of food in the summer and fall, and stores put up for winter, and bushels to take to market and sell, so we can turn a profit, which turns into seed and new crops for next year.” “Wow, Pa, I’m not sure I see all that you see. I just see a field with work that needs to be done.” “Ah, there is that. But you will, son. You have had all the steps necessary to prepare you. All the groundwork has been laid. You will be successful, as my

father before me was and as we are. You’ll see.” “I’ll take your word for it, Pa. That’s good enough for me.” James replayed the scene in his head from so long ago now, lost in the past, and was comforted by the echo of his son’s words. The soft crunch of footsteps pulled James from his reverie. He turned around to see Elizabeth, standing several yards away with food in hand. His lovely wife, his heart melted at the sight of her. As he looked at her, he could see the lines of grief and pain engraved in her forehead and carried in her stature. He pulled himself free from his self-pity and crossed the short distance, pulling her into his arms. The food forgotten, he heard her catch her breath and stifle a sob, and soon they were both engulfed in their sorrow that had been pent up for so long. They fell to the ground, crying and rocking back and forth, each participating in the other’s pain. They lost track of time, and, when they eventually pulled apart, they rested their foreheads together, momentarily spent. He took her face in his hands, brushing away her tears, and they flowed anew. The kiss seemed their first in ages. They tenderly caressed lips, feeling the fragile state of one another. “I love you, Elizabeth, more than life itself,” James said. “We’ll come out on the other side of this, I swear to you, and with our family intact.” Elizabeth searched his face. “I’ve always believed that to be true. You’re my rock,” she said, clinging to him. “I need to know you’re still with me.” “Always.” He grasped her shoulders and enveloped her in a warm embrace. “It’s been a long time,” he whispered. “Yes,” she acquiesced, tears still falling. Then, still clutching one another, they desperately shared their love and their burden.

“MOTHER, I FEAR that something awful has happened.” Whisterly nodded her head in agreement. “I feel it too, and the feeling is growing stronger as each minute es. We are convening in just over an hour. We must speak with the young girl. She will be coming out of her rejuvenation cycle and will be afraid. She will not understand what has happened, and it could take a very long time for all the implications to sink in. I’ll not tell her all, and I think it best to go alone, so she is less startled. Will you speak with Vinique before the full council meets?” “Absolutely, but are you sure you don’t want my help with the girl?” Arista asked, “I’m a little closer in age. She might find me a bit easier to relate to.” “Under the circumstances, I’d rather have you free to oversee the council. This won’t take long, but, if I get detained, you all may begin—you in my stead—and Vinique, among others, will back you completely. It is only right I tend to this innocent bystander. She will be going through what her brother went through not long ago. I do want to lessen her fear and confusion, if possible, and shelter her from those who would use her, even though that might prove unsuccessful. Soon all will know our secret. Before that time we must be prepared to act.” Arista stood directly in front of her mother, forcibly gaining her attention. “These are the tough times you have been preparing me for. I’m ready.” Whisterly brought her hand to her daughter’s cheek. “You’re right. You are,” she said, taking a deep breath before she continued. “Since time is of the essence, I must say I fear the worse for Riam. Let us walk while we finish our discussion. I should be there when the girl wakes.” “Very well, Mother. I will summon Vinique, and we will visit Riam’s bedside before the meeting. He still has not replied to your call from a few hours ago, I take it?” “No, he would have answered by this time if he were able,” Whisterly replied, turning and nodding to the guards on either side of the door to step aside. “This is where I leave you then, for the moment. I’m a quick summons away should you need anything,” Arista said, reaching for her mother’s forehead in parting. Arista felt a calmness permeate through her veins. Then her mother was

gone.

WHISTERLY TAPPED A code into the console; the door opened. She stepped into the dark room, and heard the door shut and seal behind her. Good, she thought. Just as I’d hoped, she is still in the nighttime rejuvenation cycle. Still time to bring her peacefully out. Whisterly worked deftly, ending the interval, and quickly stowed the equipment in the bedside cabinet. All levels were normal. Her projection was proceeding per plan. Only moments ed before she heard the girl stir. “Ma…? Ma?” Whisterly reached over and gently touched Belle’s hand, then encircled it with her own. “Hello there,” she said softly. “Take your time. You’ll feel a little different at first.” Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Belle turned sharply and pulled herself from her groggy state, pulling back her hand. “You are not my mother,” she said. “Yes, you are correct. I am not. I will not hurt you. You are safe. And I have information I must give you,” she said in a soft reassuring tone. “You will need to be brave, just like your brother.” Belle perked up at these words, her eyes glassy. Through short gasps of crying, she asked, “You know my brother? Where am I?” Whisterly took the child’s hands into her own once again, reassuring Belle. “I do, indeed. Quite well. Before I answer your questions, let’s get some food in your system, shall we? You’ll feel better if you eat a little something. I promise.” Whisterly handed her a square of the cool nourishment that would keep the projection performing within peak parameters, according to each subject’s needs. “This doesn’t look very appetizing, I’m sure, but it will help you feel better.” Belle took it from Whisterly questioningly and, after turning it over in her hand a few times, took a tentative bite. She looked up and received an encouraging nod, then took another and another, plus several more consecutive bites, finishing her portion. “I guess I was hungry.” “Indeed!” Whisterly smiled in return. “How do you feel, little one?”

“I feel strange but all right.” “Good, very good. Now, let me begin then by telling you my name. I am Whisterly, and I am the one who runs things here. What do you about your journey?” Whisterly watched the child’s face as she searched her memory, and Whisterly imagined the painful events the child must have endured while her face contorted in apparent confusion, or was it fear? “Where am I?” Belle asked again, this time more insistent and her tone more frightened. “And where is my brother?” “You are safe,” Whisterly said, sidestepping the first question, “and we believe your brother is too. That ship that took your brother away, they wanted him badly, and they need him. They will take care of him.” “Why did they take him and scare all those people? And when can I go home and see my ma and pa?” Belle asked between gulping breaths. “I’m sure that was very frightening for you.” Whisterly paused. “But we know your brother is very special and important to them, so they won’t want to harm him. And I am hopeful you will return home very soon,” Whisterly lied, actually having no idea when they would release her form back on Earth. Meeting minds with the child, Whisterly bestowed a calmness that permeated through her small being. “Do you feel that? That is me communicating with you, without words. It is easy. Would you like to try?” “I…I don’t know how,” Belle stuttered. “Focus on me. Think the words you want to say. That’s all there is to it.” Belle closed her eyes tightly, as if anticipating a surprise, then communicated her thought to Whisterly. I want to go home. “Ah, I got it. You want to go home. See? Very easy and we are working on that as I mentioned. Meanwhile, you can possibly help, by talking to your brother as you just reached out to me. Tell him simply that you are safe, then see if you feel a reply. All right, give it a try now.”

Belle closed her eyes and focused her thoughts on sending the message as she was instructed. “I have done what you asked. Now can I go home?” “Very soon I hope, little one, very soon. While you wait to return home, I’ve found someone to show you around. Sera, come in now please,” Whisterly said, as she turned her attention toward the door. A young girl with blue eyes and straight auburn hair appeared, and smiled in welcome, her long sparkling gray gown trailing behind her. Belle stared in awe. “Sera will show you around for a little while. Tell her if you need anything. I will meet you both later. Will that be okay?” Belle looked back and forth tentatively between the two women, not sure what to say, then communicated with Whisterly telepathically. Yes, all right, she thought. “Very good. You are, indeed, a quick learner.” Whisterly closed her eyes and imparted a few final instructions to Sera. “Yes, ma’am,” Sera replied. “I must depart for now, but Sera will take care of your every need. I will see you soon. So glad you are visiting with us for a time.” On Whisterly’s way out, she paused beside the door and responded to her daughter’s urgent plea. “I hear you, Arista. I’m on my way. Meet me in the council antechambers. Bring Vinique, and we will discuss this latest development.”

THOMAS PACED BACK and forth in his cell. He now knew every cool, damp inch of his slimy cave. The drugs had less and less effect on his consciousness, and the torture visits to the “doctor” had significantly declined. Now that it seems they’re almost done with me, what’s next? Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he contemplated his sister and how she must be feeling. His chest felt tight and his knees weak, as his next step stumbled. What is wrong with me? Another lingering effect of the drugs maybe? No. No, this feels different. I am clearheaded. He leaned against a wall for , then, giving up, he slid to the ground. He felt bile rise in his throat as he struggled to retain his composure. I can’t believe the path I’ve lead us to. Me and my sister both captured. All my fault. Running his hands back and forth through his hair, he tried to come up with a plan. I’ve gotta get outta here. I must get my sister and take her home, and I can begin with taking that gun from Simon. The next time he comes back… Intricate plans formed and helped the time. Determination and a focused goal eased the monotony of boring days and endless nights that didn’t lend themselves easily to sleep. Nameless individuals brought and took away food, and cleaned him up from time to time but wouldn’t engage, regardless of his repeated attempts. “You! Yeah, you! Let me out!” They came in pairs now, confirming Thomas’s belief that he was no longer drugged. Weapons were part of their attire, so now Thomas contemplated just how to strategically disable one and take on the other. Thomas was sure they didn’t believe he posed any real threat. After all, he was officially handicapped. He didn’t consider himself so and could feel the strength in his legs returning, even if he still needed the aid of braces. To the time, he kept moving and tracked the days as best he could. Using small rocks, he scratched lines on the wall based on his meal schedule to roughly map out days. Each “day” a new line adorned the wall, and, by calculating up and down and across, he kept count of his length of captivity. Early one morning he heard the door squeak open. It was time. Now was his chance. He knew he was ready. In walked the two guards. Thomas already had his hand on the brace he had removed, and, as his breaths quickened and his heart raced, he waited a few seconds longer until they came closer, in hopes of the blow having a greater impact. Just a few more steps… The cave was still engulfed in darkness, but he knew he didn’t have long until they shone the light in his face, as they had with each encounter. Now was the time!

Thomas garnered all his pent-up energy and strength, then threw the brace hard, and, as he heard the first guard groan and fall, he confirmed he had met his mark. Even with his other leg still braced for , he grabbed the stray device from where it had landed and lunged for the remaining guard, pounding him hard, alternating one blow with his fist and another with the brace in backto-back succession. He felt energized and alive as he unleashed weeks of frustration onto his opponent. Over and over again he hit him, and the longer Thomas fought, the more invigorated he felt. Finally, feeling no more struggle from the man in his grasp, he let go, and the guard dropped with a thud. Thomas smiled as he reached for his prize, the weapon at his side. In the next instant, a flashing light filled the room, and Thomas realized he had waited too long. He was blinded by the brightness directed into his eyes, and his head began to hurt, at first a slow dull pain, which then quickly escalated to a throbbing, immobilizing pressure. His knees buckled underneath him. The pain intensified, and he grabbed his head, only wanting the pounding to stop. But it became even more intense, and he doubled over in agony, vomiting the contents of his stomach onto the ground, only inches now from his face. Convulsing still and crawling away from an as-yet-unseen enemy, his thoughts were of certain death, surely coming within minutes. “Thomas!” Thomas was now completely immobilized and unable to resist; he turned his head toward the voice coming from the faceless adversary. “Thomas, you will do my bidding. You will yield to me, and the pain will stop.” Yes, I will yield to you, Thomas heard himself speak inside his head. Who was that answering? Was that me? His breaths came in shallow panting spasms now from the intense pain, but, still pinned, he was only able to move his eyes around the now well-lit cave in search of his assailant. “You reach out for me, and I appear.” Thomas saw Simon broach the doorway, and followed his steps as Simon approached, one agonizing step at a time. The closer he got, the stronger the pain became yet again.

A broad smile covered Simon’s face, and he said, “You feel that, right? From here it’s not as bad.” Simon demonstrated, sauntering back to the door opening. “But let me move, say, here, close to your face, where I can practically hear your heart beating, and it’s almost unbearable, I’ll bet.” Thomas felt as if his heart were about to burst from his chest. Then Simon walked slowly in the opposite direction. “You see, we’re linked, you and me. I’m sure you feel it too. Your name, it’s penned on my heart, and you are mine! It was your own doing. Don’t you ?” The pain decreased slightly, and Thomas could almost take a normal breath again. With remnants of the aching pain still throbbing throughout his body, Thomas was just beginning to understand the enormity of the bond that had already been fully forged. A small group of medical personnel arrived and moved in to assist the two wounded guards, who, although injured and bleeding, could still leave under their own power. “What is it you still want from me?” Thomas said, wiping sweat from his face. “You’ve taken all you need. Your doctors are already closer than ever to a cure. You said so yourself.” Simon nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, yes, that’s true. But we still need you. We need you to stand with us and fight. It will get you out of this cave and possibly closer to your sister. Or alternatively you could stay in here and eventually die from the slow, enduring agony that will find its place within your very soul.” Thomas looked at Simon and saw a gleeful malice-filled smile where his face had recently been. Thomas’s head still throbbed from the pain he had just suffered, and he couldn’t imagine any continuous time frame under which that torment would be bearable. Thomas shook his head. “As usual, you have me at a disadvantage. Where do we start?” “Well, at the beginning, of course,” Simon stated, as the broad malevolent grin returned. “Shall we?” With an exaggerated gesture, Simon indicated a clear path

to the open door. Thomas knew in his heart this wasn’t freedom, only another form of imprisonment. From what he had just experienced, worse than his present confinement. Still weak and shaky, Thomas grabbed his brace from where he had triumphantly dropped it earlier and pulled it back on, locking it into place. With every ounce of his energy depleted, he knew its would be necessary. Then, fighting the hopelessness he felt rising within, he gingerly placed one foot in front of the other and followed Simon from the dungeon.

WHISTERLY HASTENED TO her meeting with Vinique and Arista, knowing that some of her fears were about to be realized. As she neared her antechambers, Whisterly felt the emotions of Vinique and Arista before she actually reached them. The door slid open; she acknowledged Vinique and Arista who stood upon her entrance. “No, sit, please. Let’s dispense with formalities. We have much to discuss.” “As you wish,” Vinique said, with a nod of deference. “Our suspicions have been confirmed. Riam is dead. His plug was pulled sometime late last night in the hospital. Many doctors and nurses were on duty. However, all his monitoring equipment was also unplugged, so no alarms sounded to alert those working of his distress. Once rounds were completed late in the evening, it was much too late. He had already been dead several hours at that point.” “I see,” Whisterly said. “This is devastating, even though we anticipated negative ramifications due to the botched mission to Earth. It’s now confirmed we have traitors among us, and I’m sure they have covered their tracks well. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. If they are willing to kill one council member, they won’t hesitate to kill again.” Whisterly stood and paced as she continued. “First, we must flush them out. It’s only a matter of time before their guard is down, and we obtain some little bit of information that they let slip through in their unconscious thoughts. Next, we must be vigilant in scanning through the maze of mindless chatter and pick up on these clues. The full council isn’t yet aware that we don’t actually have Belle to use as leverage in order to gain Stephen from the Night Dwellers. And finally,” she said, turning to face the two in front of her, “we must move the op forward quickly before this word gets out.” “Arista, your telepathic skill is unmatched. During the meeting carefully probe the minds of the council, without being detected, to pick up all that you can. Vinique and I will keep them busy with discussions on the elite team of warriors we have assembled for the extraction. It is imperative we have Stephen to finish our testing and finalize the preparation of the cure. This mission is of paramount importance and trumps all else. You two understand this step is the culmination of decades of work. We cannot fail.”

“I will do as you ask, Mother. Do you think Stephen believes we would actually harm Belle? Surely he knows us better than that? I’ve reached out to him, to no avail.” “We know the rock formation of the Night Dwellers’ underground cave structure blocks a good portion of telepathic communication. That works for us—and unfortunately against us as well. With Stephen’s limited knowledge of telepathy, any information he gained would soon be the knowledge of the Night Dwellers.” “Yes, understood. But I’d like to obtain an idea of his frame of mind. He must think horrible things now, in addition to the lies he is being told by the Night Dwellers. He might not even come with our team willingly.” Whisterly nodded her head in silent agreement. “We have prepared for that possibility. We hope this mission will run smoothly with limited loss of life. However, we are committed to our goal, and we will have Stephen, even at the cost of deaths of our own. Our commitment is unwavering. You can continue to him with simple, basic messages. Nothing strategic can be revealed. Try something like, ‘Belle is safe.’ , even if you don’t receive a response, it doesn’t mean your message didn’t get through, only perhaps that he couldn’t acknowledge it, for any number of reasons.” “Vinique, I need your total commitment that, should I fail in some capacity to free Belle from her current holographic state, for whatever reason, that you will ensure she is fully released back to Earth. It is bad enough that we are using her as a pawn in this vicious pursuit. So we must return her to her family as quickly as possible. She offers us no medicinal gain and is truly an innocent bystander, who we are unfortunately using as bait in this deadly business.” “You have my word. I fully understand. However, I expect you will complete that action of your own accord,” Vinique finished. “Mother, don’t even speak your next thoughts.” “It is important, now more than ever, to be brutally honest,” Whisterly interjected. “Vinique, you are third in line for head of the council behind Arista. No doubt malevolent powers are at work here. We have known of this uprising since the first time we attempted to bring Stephen to our planet. Plans have been put in place to safeguard the council and protect our way of life as much as possible. These plans could fail, and, if that occurs, the council must make

provision for the continued survival of our race, including all the souls waiting for a cure in our hospital. This is how we differ from the Night Dwellers. We knew we would find and develop a serum to heal our people and chose not to lose others to this horrible disease in the process. We have almost depleted our resources toward this end, but, when healed, we will have a greater position of strength from which to draw.” “You know I am prepared to step in, should the need arise,” Vinique spoke softly. “You have instilled in both of us the strength and wisdom to carry on, and we will act as you have so lovingly guided us.” Vinique paused and met Whisterly in the middle of the room. “Just know that Arista and I are both fully capable and ready to achieve our ultimate objectives. We will succeed, beginning with determining where the weakness resides from within our very ranks.” Arista rose to them. “I concur, Mother. We have fought for this day, for this chance at survival, and we’ll not stop now. We know Stephen wanted to help our people. We must continue to believe that he still wants to do so, even though he is currently imprisoned by those who don’t share our beliefs.” “I am comforted by your words and truly expected no less,” Whisterly said, her voice hoarse. “We now need be about the business of the council, continuing to impart wisdom and truth in our endeavors, and ongoing faith in the process that we started decades ago.” Her voice broke. She paused, inhaling deeply, then spoke again. “We’re so close. We have no other choice than the path in front us. Let us face the council together, with like minds if not differing goals for this particular meeting, and dig out and cut off the insidious contagion that lurks among us, formed not from a disease but rather from a hatred of our way of life. We must devour it.” “Shall we?” Vinique said. ing hands, the three women raised their heads upward as they locked consciousnesses. “Now, let us convene the council,” Arista added. “Little one, after you.”

“TAKE HIM TO get cleaned up, then bring him back to me,” Simon stated to the guards as Thomas crossed the threshold. First one, then the other guard moved in on either side of him and gave , guiding him down a narrow hallway. Exhausted and grateful for the reinforcement, Thomas leaned heavily on both men as he was partially carried down the corridor. It will be several hours before he will be in any shape to function, Simon thought, as he watched the two men half-carry, half-drag Thomas to the showers. Simon headed in the opposite direction, making his way to his sanctuary, where he could relax for a few hours before facing an evening of chores and training. His steps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way to his destination, his thoughts racing. He shook his head violently back and forth as if this act would remove the memory of what had just occurred with Thomas. Pangs of guilt crept in and permeated his being as he relived the scene from only moments ago. He immediately discounted them. The encounter had exceeded his expectations in every way. He enjoyed having the power to control another, he realized, and he relished the thought of doing it again. It was absolutely exhilarating! He would gain new authority with his superiors now, all due to taking advantage of and exploiting Thomas. Far from finished with him, Simon understood he needed to carefully plot his next move so all would unfold according to their ultimate plan. He paused in front of his door, turned the handle, and entered his chambers. Austerely furnished, but comfortable, he moved to his desk where a good bit of his waking hours were spent. Intel from recent reconnaissance missions had been definitive. They had uncovered what was believed to be a plot to rescue Thomas. This hadn’t been unexpected; both sides had been fighting for this advantage for years. These unfolding events had thus accelerated their time frame. “He needs to stand with us,” Simon stated out loud to no one in particular. “He can’t be allowed to return to the Day Watchers. We need strong disease-free fighters.” As he made an uneasy peace with himself, he realized there was no uncomplicated way to meet all their goals as they had been laid out to him.

First, Thomas had to remain close, while the cure was still being perfected. He would be necessary for further testing. Second, they needed him to be willing to fight against would-be kidnappers. In order for this to happen, coercion would still be required but maybe less so if he believed his sister was captive against her will. This would unite them with a common enemy, even if the statement as to Belle wasn’t actually true. With his intimate controlling knowledge, Simon knew he could direct Thomas at his own will, with only a few exceptions. Third, final preparations had to be made for all their faction . Battle was imminent, and they needed to be ready, prioritizing final duties. Years of preparations had laid the groundwork. Simon believed he was uniquely born and raised for this very task. Thomas would not stand in Simon’s way. Lastly, after victory, uniting the two divergent groups would be advantageous. The previous generation had dreamed of reing, once again a healthy society. Much work still needed to be accomplished before this could ever occur, however. The Day Watchers’ ruling council would never be allowed here. So this would have to be a regime without Whisterly. The Night Dwellers had left behind that overbearing control and would never embrace it again. Simon knew he would be firmly entrenched in a position of power in this fledging society, having fully proved his worth in bringing about the healing of his race. A smirk twisted his lips. It’s all within our grasp, he thought. Someday, very soon, every thought won’t be focused on survival, and I will be in charge. Whisterly and Arista will do my bidding. Simon was pulled from his introspection by a tapping on the door. “Come,” he voiced. The door swung open, and the two guards entered, presenting Thomas, front and center. “Thank you. You may go.” Simon took a moment to survey Thomas. Still haggard and thin from his stint in the dungeon, he was nevertheless a strong specimen and notably had proven this in the fight with the guards, even despite his handicap. Now, in the light, Simon could see Thomas’s suntanned skin, presumably from regular work out of doors, and finely tuned muscles. He was not a fully grown man yet, at sixteen Earth years, but he was close. He would be a strong asset, with additional training and when fed the proper diet.

“PLEASE SIT, Thomas,” Simon motioned, as his mouth lingered over the formation of his name. Collapsing into a nearby chair, Thomas sucked in his breath, as his muscles tensed in unison, and his heart raced. “ this feeling,” Simon said, almost in a whisper. “This isn’t where you want to be. When you feel that tug, that means we are out of sync, and you must follow my instruction, not fight it. It is a battle of wills, so to speak, but one you are destined to lose.” You sick little shit. You think I could forget? Thomas thought. Here we go again. The pounding made him feel as if his eyes would burst from their sockets, so he squeezed them tightly shut. His breath came by short wisps in and out, and he knew he had no choice but to nod in agreement. Unable to speak, he heard his inaudible reply. I will do as you ask. “Good, good. So glad to hear we are in agreement, Thomas. Just to clarify, our unique bond and ability to communicate telepathically means we don’t have to be close in proximity in order to, uh, correspond, if you understand my meaning. I can locate you almost anywhere, and you can connect with me as well, as you just did.” “I think I’m beginning to have a better understanding of your control over me,” Thomas said, releasing a deep sigh, struggling to regain his composure. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can work together toward common goals. You will see that it will be rewarding,” Simon replied, his face forming slowly into a sinister grin. “As long as I follow your orders, and your goals are my own. That is what you mean, right?” “You are correct. For the foreseeable future we will need to be of like mind. Now I will show you where you can get some food. No doubt you are hungry. We will find you suitable quarters as well, and your training—” Abruptly the door flew open, and a familiar guard spoke. “Simon, come quickly. It is Willie. His time is near.”

Apparently caught off guard, Simon’s countenance changed. As his shoulders slumped, he immediately looked down, shaking his head. After a few seconds he took in a quick breath of air. What’s going on? Thomas thought. Then came another stifled breath from Simon. Was he crying? Thomas caught a glimpse of Simon’s face, and his eyes incredulously brimming with tears. Simon brusquely left the room. Forgotten for the time being, Thomas followed at a slower pace down the ageway to the hall labeled Infirmary. He arrived at the door and hung back, surveying his surroundings. Immediately he saw visions of the compound, where he ed the rows and rows of beds, filled with the sick and dying. It was very similar here, except most of the patients were awake and communicating. He spotted Simon, kneeling beside a bed with a limp hand engulfed with his own, and Thomas heard soft whispers, interspersed with gasps for air. Only a couple yards away, he could hear and see all that was transpiring. In a flurry of activity, several machines beeped and flashed, and Simon was pushed out of the way as the doctors focused on the patient. Many minutes ed, and then, without warning, the commotion stopped. Simon looked up to the doctor, who nodded his head slowly, both acquiescing to the unspoken fact they knew to be true. The doctor hugged an unresponsive Simon, who sat on the bed, retrieving the now lifeless hand that lay there. As a lone tear trickled down his cheek, Thomas could hear another doctor ing by, saying, “Sorry about your brother.” Simon nodded but didn’t speak as he leaned down and kissed Willie’s forehead, then pausing briefly, touched his forehead to his own. Thomas was dumbfounded by the scene before him as he realized that his captor actually had feelings, which was unconfirmed until now. At a tap on his shoulder Thomas turned and saw the guard who had burst into the room just a short time ago.

“Come. I will get you some nourishment before taking you to your quarters.” With a nod Thomas turned away from the heavy-hearted scene and silently followed the guard.

STILL MULLING OVER the recent events in an effort to reconcile them in his head, Thomas sat down to his first full meal in recent memory. His eyes were bigger than his stomach, as always, so his plate was piled high with food of unknown origin and description, plentiful and warm. Thankful, he dug in under the watchful eyes of two guards, standing several feet away. As he ate, Thomas tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall was an unfamiliar environment to Thomas. He was easily distracted, watching people come and go, and he actively listened in to conversations when he was close enough to hear. From his limited vantage point and knowledge base, he gathered what he could. Thomas was able to nail down that Simon’s brother had been sick from the disease for many years, slowly getting frailer and frailer, as he waited for a cure that would now come too late. “He almost made it.” “Yeah, after all these years, the cure is finally close, didn’t you hear?” “I’ll believe it when our people stop dying.” “True.” “The vaccine is ready for trial. That isn’t the same as a cure. You know the Day Watchers are closer to an actual cure than we are.” Thomas inched slowly down the bench so he could better listen in on the conversation in progress. “It’s just a matter of time now. You heard ’em.” “Yes, and yet we’re still preparing for an invasion. They aren’t ready to let the subject go either.” “Agreed, and why should we let him go? He’s still a valuable negotiation tool. The Day Watchers need him. For once it’s us in a position to bargain. It’s about time.” “Don’t be a fool. Both sides have suffered untold number of casualties. Our

focus should be on the race for the cure, not the human subject that we are done with. Why don’t you think with that thing on your shoulders?” “Whisterly’s troops are coming for him. That’s what the higher-ups believe.” “And we’re ready. I’m done here,” he said, as he pushed back his chair and stood up, revealing a small caliber pistol holstered at his side. “I’ve got watch aboveground in an hour.” “See you at the mission briefing at 1900 hours.” Thomas kept his gaze glued to the two men as they left the mess hall, dressed in what appeared to be working uniforms from an unknown branch of service. Thomas focused on all he had just heard. Clearly Simon had believed his brother would hang in there until the cure was fully developed. Now with that hope shattered and more blame to place, Simon would surely have no qualms about moving forward with his mysterious mission. The second bit of news would take longer to digest. Is Whisterly coming for me? While in the cell, he had all but given up hope after repeated attempts to connect with someone at the compound. Yet it seemed to be general knowledge, if the troops knew about it. I must be prepared to do whatever possible to help their plan succeed, while still being Simon’s underling. While not entirely sure where his allegiance should lay at this point—Day Watchers or Night Dwellers—his sister was at the compound, so that was where he needed to go. With a little more freedom now and the ability to train, he would use this opportunity to formulate a new plan. Conscious that his mind would betray him, Thomas put up mental walls in an attempt to hide his personal thoughts, as he had learned it from Arista—which seemed like ages ago now. He knew that Simon could bust through these meager amateur attempts at private thought control, so the exercise seemed somewhat pointless, but it gave Thomas something to do that moved him in a small way toward his goal. He focused on his sister with his eyes closed as he concentrated hard, directing all his efforts, working behind those mental walls he had just created. Belle, please, I need to hear from you. Answer me if you’re there, he pleaded. Belle? God, Ma and Pa tell me that you’re there. Help us please, he prayed silently. His mind raced, and his palms began to sweat as he thought of everything that could happen to her. He waited, listening, hoping he might break through. Belle,

anything will do. Speak to me. Let me know you’re alive. Where are you? He heard nothing. He scanned the food left in front of him. At least he felt somewhat revived as he loaded up on food and water, giving his brain the needed fuel it had been deprived of during his captivity. Thomas felt his energy returning. Now with his hunger and thirst momentarily satiated, his attention alternated from the Night Dwellers’ mission to his own. Deep in thought he missed the guard’s first attempt to get him on his feet. “I said now. Not all of us care so much about your well-being.” The guard laughed, poking him with the butt of his rifle. “I could slip at any time, and this firearm could accidentally discharge, and then, well, that wouldn’t be my fault, now would it?” The other guard sneered in return. “One less share of our resources taken up by a lover of the Day Watchers. Let’s move,” he said. “We’re taking you to your quarters.” In between the two guards as they walked in silence, Thomas concentrated on the details of his path as he assimilated where he was in context with the few places he had been, making mental notes along the way. A few corridors and three doors later they arrived. “I see I’m still a prisoner.” “No, actually we have received orders not to lock this door after leaving. Trust, however, that we are very close by and fully cognizant of all your movements. Simon is, shall we say, attached to you. If you have hopes of ever leaving, I suggest you fully cooperate. Should you choose not to, well, that would be your downfall. Go in and get settled. Your training will commence at 2100 hours.” “I’m honestly looking forward to that.” As the guard beckoned Thomas forward, he pushed through the door, entering his sparsely furnished room. “We’ll return for you at 2050 hours,” he stated, closing the door firmly behind him. Glad to be alone, Thomas took a deep breath and released it while he surveyed

his surroundings. The room had a small desk and chair, utilitarian bed, and a modest-size chest of drawers. No problem, Thomas thought, as I don’t have extra clothes. Upon opening the drawer, however, he saw four identical sets of pants, shirts, and underwear, neatly folded. He moved closer to the desk and spotted the clothes he had been wearing when he arrived. Suddenly ing, he grabbed his pants and shoved his hands in the pockets, eagerly searching. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief as he pulled out the heart-shaped rock and his com. They’re still here. He rolled the rock over in hands, feeling the texture again and ing how happy Belle had been when she had given it to him. As he pocketed the small treasure again, he pulled out the chair and sat at the desk. The solid weight of the com in Thomas’s hand brought him comfort as he mentally bridged the time and distance to his parents. Will I see you again? He brought the com absentmindedly to his face and closed his eyes, ing the chill from the silver on his warm cheek as he ed the farm and his family. He drew a deep breath, squeezed the com once more, then exhaled and resolutely returned it to his pocket. The small clean space made a world of difference to Thomas’s psyche, after what he had been living through in the dungeon. Full and relatively comfortable he made plans for his next steps. His sister—he knew how she must feel. Alone and scared. He was alone and scared, and he was years older. His insides broke for her. Belle came into focus in his mind. He leaned on the desk and closed his eyes again, focusing hard, silently directing all his efforts, just like Arista had taught him. Then, in the void, very faintly he heard, “Thomas…? Thomas, where are you? I’m so afraid.” “Yes!” he shouted. “Belle, we did it!”

ARISTA LED THE triune as she pushed through the doors, the commotion and unrest assaulting her senses. Council talked animatedly. She moved toward her seat, prompting Vinique to take her place as well. With a nod of her head, Arista looked to her mother as she stood before the group, waiting for silence. A hush formed over the gathering now as Whisterly looked skyward, entering a trancelike state. In unison the group followed suit, turning their gaze upward while all connected as one. Arista knew her mother began the meeting in this manner to give Arista a quick excuse to , then stay united with, the collective consciousness, thus enabling her to move undetected into each individual mind, as she attempted to gain information while remaining undiscovered. A brief pause gave her the necessary time to focus the majority of her energy on her mother. Carefully, so as not to draw too much at once, she pulled some of Whisterly’s life force into her own, and, feeling her stamina and fortitude strengthened, she pulled partially away, hearing her mother’s warning as Arista moved to Vinique and performed the same task. Engulfed in a unison chant now, she focused on her mother’s thoughts, making them her own, as she built pathways in her own mind to all the council , disguising the source of the age that connected each to her own. The first task completed, she was now intricately entwined with each council member but disguised in a manner to replicate another. A rare intensity and energy engulfed her. She ired her mother as Arista took stock of her energy’s source. Still a stunning beauty, though age was taking its toll, she had a heart full of iration for this woman who actually gave birth to her. Arista knew there were only a few like herself, and her mother had knowledge of at least one more, and had shared this discovery with no one. Doctors believed these fortunate few would remain disease-free, their genes unaltered and unmarred by the disease, while others, born in the lab, would eventually succumb, the weakening gene pool depleting itself with each successive generation. How could she ever repay this woman for her guidance, education, and legacy? she pondered. Actively reing the meeting, she heard her mother speak. “We believe traitors are among us in this very room.” Arista observed as the group’s reaction spread like wildfire.

Whisterly continued. “Those who are even now, at this very moment, putting the cure of our people at risk. We have agreed within these four walls to pull together an elite force to extract Stephen from the Night Dwellers. That effort is underway, as we agreed. However, we will protect the innocent bystander who got caught in our efforts to transport Stephen. We must not abandon the values that define who we are,” Whisterly stated, her voice gaining power and momentum. “To compromise innocent life will not be tolerated. Those who are found to have engaged in this form of insurrection will be dealt with harshly.” Arista felt tempers flare in reaction and immediate attempts to squelch those strong emotions, which drew her to the path of its origin. Several repositories within her senses burst with energy, and she drew input from their source, which then led down other pathways. She was not surprised to find Garrick as a central artery, extending in many directions, leading to deep-seated deception and treachery. Carefully uncovering layer upon layer of duplicity, she was amazed at the guile of two especially and shocked at the involvement of the third. The energy flow waned. She thought of pulling back before she was discovered, but extraction was almost as arduous a process as infiltrating and needed to be accomplished delicately, she knew from experience. An influx of vitality rose within her, and she took a deep breath and continued on, smiling inwardly, knowing she was buoyed now by Vinique and her strong telepathic skill. With a renewed virility, she extracted herself from the bonds she had so carefully created. Voices and tension escalated as Arista finalized her withdrawal, covering her path as best she could. “I demand an audience,” Arista heard from an instantly recognizable voice in the back. “You may speak. No demand necessary,” Whisterly added. “For some time now, those of us believe,” Novaryous said, “that you are going soft. You don’t have the stomach for the strong, difficult decisions and tasks that must be completed to maintain our dominance over the Night Dwellers and this disease that has all but wiped out our race. As a result, I move for a vote of no confidence in this council and an end to any further proceedings under your leadership. We will disband and vote in our own leader.” The voices in the room rose to an unidentifiable din. Turmoil and confusion took

over, while everyone spoke at once. Thoughts went rampant, and negative energy filled the chambers. Now was Arista’s turn to lend aid to her mother, as she helped Whisterly to fend off and prepare for a mental onslaught. Reaching out to Vinique, they created a barrier, effectively dodging the aggression as it came over her mother, wave upon wave. “I see. I assume there are others who share your view.” His voice dripped with an acidic tone when he spoke again. “There are. We will vote you out here and now,” he spat. Mother, he’s wrong. I know he is. From my connection with each member, I only sensed a few who unfortunately should be banned from the council. He is among them, and there are two others, Arista quickly communicated. “So be it. We will take a formal verbal poll. Each member will cast one vote. Vinique, you will tally. Five votes against will lead to an election to be held after seven days’ time. Let us begin. You will each stand and state your vote aloud for all to hear. Novaryous, your position is documented but state it formally.” “I want you out. I am a no.” “Hailo?” “Status quo.” “Kaixin?” “I’m with you, ma’am.” “Vinique.” “I stand behind you, as always.” “Thinn?” “I vote for change and a new head for the council.” “Noted. Aero?”

“I stand with you.” “Pawk?” “I’m with you as well.” “Kix?” “I remain loyal to you, Whisterly.” “Garrick?” “It’s no surprise, I’m sure, that I’m with Novaryous. You are leading us down the wrong path. Others are more qualified.” “Your opinion is noted.” Whisterly noticed Novaryous looking side to side, as he lifted his arms waving animatedly to his neighbor. He now knows he has lost, Whisterly communicated to her daughter. And well he should. I second that, Vinique chimed in through their telepathic link. “Arista?” “I stand firmly with you, Mother.” “Novaryous, you have lost in your vote of no confidence, and you have now abdicated your place on the council and will be taken to the brig where your friends will you. Guards! Arrest these three for conspiracy and suspicion of murder.” The room went silent as all turned to Whisterly. “You can’t do that. It’s my right!” Novaryous shouted. “I can, and I have,” Whisterly said. “He never had a chance, did he? Riam, I mean.” “He was weak,” Garrick sneered. “Worried about an inconsequential girl? We were doing him and us a favor.”

“Shut up, you idiot,” Novaryous shouted. “You’re making a big mistake. You don’t even know how big yet, but you will. Mark my words, you will,” Garrick said slowly, speaking each word full of venom, his animosity no longer hidden. Arista was repulsed and could feel similar feelings among the other . Vinique clapped her hands, and, like a virus, the remaining council ed in one by one, creating a chorus, interspersed with yells of triumph as the three were marched away at gunpoint, their hands bound. Arista leaned in next to her mother. “You see? You are victorious.” “Officially, yes, but this is a bad omen. Where there are three, there may be more.” Whisterly straightened and spoke to the council again. “We still have much work to be done. However, for now, we will disband so all may rejuvenate.” Whisterly exited the chamber as the noise abated. Arista noted that the regal head of the council who had entered the chambers not long ago was leaving with a posture of defeat. “I’m concerned for her, Vinique.” “This has been a betrayal. Give her time to regroup.” “Time? If you recall, our people don’t have much of that.”

UNSURE WHAT TO expect, Thomas readied himself by 2050 hours. His palms started to sweat as he thought of all the atrocities he might be asked to perform. Wiping his hands on his pants, he stood, alternating between glancing from the door to the clock as the moments ticked by. Seconds later he heard heavy steps in the corridor, and his heart skipped a beat as he sucked in his breath, temporarily frozen in anticipation. The door opened, revealing two young men Thomas hadn’t yet met. Wondering where the usual guards were, he surveyed the newcomers as he waited for the instructions that were sure to come. The first to enter appeared to be a couple years older than Thomas, dressed in khaki pants, T-shirt, and vest, with a holstered revolver at his side. The second was quite possibly his age, Thomas estimated. Similarly dressed, he was outfitted quite differently, however. His weapon of choice was a shotgun. Since it was perched on his shoulder, Thomas was able to see the gun quite clearly—a Winchester model 12 pump-action shotgun. His gaze didn’t leave the weapon as he hungrily took in every inch. He had read about their use in the war, and it was a far cry from the .22 his dad had taught him with. This was not the squirrel hunt back home, he thought, as his fingers twitched, aching to get around that gun for an up-close look. Thomas was lost in his thoughts and caught off guard when the first visitor came from behind and spun him around, staring at him now square in the face. “Uh, hi.” “I see you’re an irer of fine weaponry.” “I, uh, yeah, guess you could say that.” “Simon says you know how to shoot.” “Sure, I’m all right. Hunt all the time back home.” He chuckled. “Is that right? Ever hunt…people?” Thomas stared at him for a few seconds, unsure what to say. “Well, no, can’t say I’ve done that. But I imagine it can’t be that different.” Thomas looked from one back to the other, uncomfortable in the awkward

silence, waiting for their response. The older one spoke first. “I’m Errol. My friend here is Terron, and we will work with you on the shooting range. And you’re wrong, shall I say, dead wrong. First lesson, animals don’t shoot back. People do. We’re leaving in just a few minutes but, before we go, thought it might be prudent to remind you what’s at stake. Simon wanted us to deliver a message. It goes like this. Sorry I can’t be with you personally right now, but I trust these two completely to assess your training needs. Be comforted by the fact that I can be by your side in a moment’s time, offering you any additional hands-on guidance as the need arises.” “Was the message clear?” Terron asked. “Yes, I believe so,” Thomas replied, stifling an uncontrollable shiver that crawled up his spine. “Good, good. Let’s go then. Follow me.” Thomas followed Terron down a dimly lit hallway, then up several flights of stairs, and through a series of doors which led aboveground. The sun had set, but the scene above was full of activity. Thomas observed several teams, who appeared to be at work. Some gathered food, while others prepared it. Meals were enjoyed by laughing families, and a few were gathered in smaller groups, sharing more intimate moments. Thomas felt an instant pang of loneliness while witnessing the gatherings; he longed for home, his friends, his sisters, even his community, but most especially his ma and pa. “Move along,” Errol said and motioned with his arm. “We’re going just over that ridge there to the range. See the bright lights?” Thomas followed the trajectory and saw the massive range ahead. Even at this time of night many men and women were outfitted in PT garb, fine-tuning their shooting skills. As the trio neared the range, successive gunfire could be heard, and once again Thomas felt the urge to grab the Winchester and explore its lifealtering possibilities. Once on the gun range Thomas saw revolvers, pistols, shotguns, and rifles with many variants. Some were unrecognizable to him; others looked quite familiar. Errol chose an open lane with a bull’s-eye target hanging at the end and unholstered his revolver. Thomas recognized the weapon and stepped in closer

for a better look. Errol easily handled the Smith & Wesson .38 special, aiming and firing in quick succession, effortlessly hitting the target about twenty-five yards out. “Ready to show us what you got?” Errol asked. “You bet,” Thomas said. Thomas stepped up as Errol reloaded, then offered the S&W to Thomas. He considered only for a few seconds killing the two and running into the dense underbrush under the cover of night. Here at the gun range, however, he was quite confident he would be taken out almost instantly. Better to wait for a more suitable opportunity, he thought, as he took aim and fired, unloading all six bullets one after another, hitting the target with five out of six shots. Errol moved in closer, offering advice and adjustments, as he supplied additional bullets to reload. Then, taking aim for a second time, Thomas shot without hesitation, emptying the chamber, this time hitting his mark six for six. “Not bad, not bad at all,” Errol offered. Thomas turned to his right just in time to see Terron draw his weapon and take aim at a live target. As the animal bounded across the target venue, Thomas heard the clicky-clack of the pump action before the gun fired. The first shot a miss, Terron jacked another shell into the chamber and squeezed the trigger, then he pulled another and another, each landing in his intended target as he obliterated the animal. Still two shells left, he offered the shotgun to Thomas, holding its weight as Thomas held and adjusted himself to the size of the weapon. Finally possessing it independently, Thomas straightened his stature. He felt invincible, and, sliding the safety release, he pumped the shotgun and released the trigger, just grazing the intended target. Smiling with satisfaction, tension building, he was encouraged and felt the adrenaline kick in. Then he repeated, the satisfying clicky-clack echoing in his ears as he pulled the trigger and unloaded another shell. “I’m surprised,” Errol said, grinning, revealing a vest heavy with ammo. “I was under the impression you were a rookie. Reload now and take aim at the target about thirty yards out. See it? Just beyond that large mound of dirt?” Thomas’s heart raced as he reloaded.

Errol stood close as he instructed and adjusted the sights of the shotgun before Thomas took aim. “Now, shoot quickly and fire again, emptying your load. Let’s see how you can perform under pressure.” Thomas pumped the shotgun and missed the target, then quickly followed up with five more shells, each hitting their mark. Satisfied now, he took a deep breath and released his tight grip on the gun. Errol and Terron looked on as Thomas pulled the lever to bring in the bull’s-eye. Thomas retrieved the target, and then appeared once more, the sheet clutched in hand as a prize. “Again shall we?” Terron voiced. “I’m game. Can I switch it up again, back to the .38 Special?” “That can be arranged. Reload,” he said, handing over the Smith & Wesson. “Wait this time for a live target, and let’s see how you do when something is actually moving.” Thomas watched while Errol signaled an unknown person who released what looked to be a deer onto the range. Errol held out his hand high in the air, indicating a cease fire to all others on the range. The silence was pervasive as Thomas counted the beats of his heart and met the eye of his victim, connecting with and imagining the pulse of the animal beating in sync with his own. The noise grew louder and louder in his head the longer he waited. Breathing shallow now, he took aim, carefully bringing the animal within his sights. Then firing in quick succession, he released his breath, unloading all six bullets, sinking each one into the soft flesh of his prey, ending its life. “Well done. But we’re not finished yet.” As Errol handed Thomas the Winchester, he eagerly loaded and set his focus on the range for the next live animal. In his ear he could hear coaching encouragement as he felt another surge of adrenaline. He pumped the first shot, then pulled the trigger. Unsatisfied, he continued jacking shell after shell as he pulled the trigger, his aim improving with each successive shot. Thomas handed the shotgun back and glanced downward. There they were. The braces he hadn’t once thought about while shooting, and they hadn’t limited him

here. He tuned back in and heard Terron shout, “Good job,” as he raised his arm in camaraderie. Without thinking, Thomas raised his own arm and grasped Terron’s, ing in a mutual celebration. Thomas felt elated as he reveled in the moment, then, pulling away his hand, he felt uneasy, shameful even, and couldn’t shake the sensation that he had betrayed others with this budding alliance. But this growing desire inside he couldn’t ignore, and he didn’t want to push aside the power emanating from within that made him feel renewed and alive. A power and drive that needed an avenue. As he looked out over the range and took in the scene of death before him, he called out, first a low guttural sound, then escalating louder and with more intensity. He pumped his fists, and others ed in. The lingering uneasiness remained, but Thomas couldn’t hold back this alien, yet instinctive response, as he celebrated the conquering of an unknown enemy and the kinship he felt powerless to deny.

THE SHADOWS PLAYED games with the light as dawn approached. Elizabeth lay awake, watching the changing patterns on the wall, while she listened to the insistent tick-tock of the clock on the nightstand. She knew the alarm would ring in a few minutes, and they would begin a new day. The room was quiet except for the soft snore of her husband, sleeping beside her. She envied his ability to sleep amid all the trials their family was going through. Sleep, when it came, though fitful, did block out the constant pain and worry for their children, if only for a brief time. She turned toward her husband, uncovered his shoulder, and lightly kissed it, conforming her body to his, encircling him, her hand coming to rest on his chest. He stirred just as the alarm blared loudly, shattering the false peacefulness of the early morning. James silenced the noise and faced his wife. “Good morning,” she offered, as she snuggled in to a new spot. “Morning.” Normally awake and in the kitchen before her husband woke, Elizabeth had changed her routine shortly after the disappearance of Thomas and the sudden illness of Belle. It was a horrible, yet another “new normal,” as routines changed to accommodate the care of her youngest. Still unresponsive, Belle needed around-the-clock care. Mary was on duty during the early morning before she left for work, and then Elizabeth attended to her youngest’s needs for the remainder of the day. This afforded Elizabeth a few more minutes in the morning with her husband, before he dealt with the demands of the farm, which couldn’t be put on hold for family emergencies. The fragile state of their relationship had begun the first healing steps that day in field, when they had committed to sharing their grief, no matter whatever else happened. So, even with the constant raw emotion and harshness of the present state of their family, they had grown closer as a husband and wife. Elizabeth rolled away toward her side of the bed, as she prepared to dress. Maneuvering in the semidarkness, she let her nightgown fall to the floor as she stood and reached for her clothes set out on the chair. “Liz.” “Yes?”

She turned to find her husband right behind her. He bent down to kiss her neck. His rough hands massaged her back, while he pulled her forcefully toward him. She loved when he called her Liz. It reminded her of being young and carefree, full of life—qualities that she could not attest to now. “Honey, the animals,” she whispered. He laughed quietly as he picked her up and deposited her on the bed, his lips tenderly kissing her breasts. “The only animal you need to worry about is me,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. Although her feelings were not amorous at the moment, she knew she would enjoy the early morning rendezvous with her husband. Like everything else, their lovemaking had changed and evolved with their fragile emotional state of being. The act was frequently now much more physical, desperate even, than years past, and ionate on a new plane, mirroring their daily frantic state. At least in this one way they could acknowledge the normalcy of life, even when all else was in turmoil. Among the chaos, it was a special, untainted gift they could give each other. She focused on her husband, whose mounting desire inflamed her own. Elizabeth’s physical need surprised even herself, as she matched him in pace and ion. Their rhythm quickened, and she pulled him deeper into herself, as they both convulsed, their desire satisfied. “James,” she whispered. “Liz, it’s okay. It’s okay to love and be loved, to live our lives, to be alive. We won’t help our children by becoming lifeless shells of our former selves. We won’t stop until our family is whole. But we can’t die inside in the meantime.” “You’re right. I know you’re right,” she said, her face wet with tears. James pulled her on top of him, as he held tightly, waiting for her, while her breathing normalized. “I love you. You are my life. I know we can bear anything together,” she spoke softly in his ear. They met in a kiss, then she turned sideways and moved toward the edge of the bed again, picking up her forgotten clothing.

James reached toward her; his hand clasped her own, and he pulled her back in, enveloping her once again. “James, really the animals…” The room was now fully lit with rays of sun protruding through the curtains, reminding her how late they were with their start to the day. In his eyes, she could see a spark that hadn’t been there for a long time. “What did I say about the animals?” he whispered, as his finger stroked the length of her spine. Elizabeth shivered involuntarily and eagerly accepted his kiss. “I’m too old for this,” she murmured back. “Again,” he demanded, “this time slowly.” He nuzzled against her neck, kissing her softly, slowly making his way downward. She let out a short gasp of pleasure, and James stopped momentarily. “Why, Mrs. Stewart, what about the animals?” “What animals?” she said, breathlessly.

WHISTERLY FELT WEAK and short of breath as she struggled to make her way through the halls of the compound to check in on their littlest “visitor.” The council meeting had actually gone almost exactly as planned. The effort of the encounter had physically and mentally exhausted her, however, and the final confirmation that she had been right felt like a nail in her coffin. With the most difficult work of addressing the traitors completed, she could turn her focus back to the task of returning Stephen to them. When she neared the atrium where she had left little Belle, the sound of laughter filled her ears, bringing a smile to her face. “Ah, I see you have been having fun,” Whisterly stated, as Sera appeared from around the corner. “Oh, yes, ma’am,” she replied, as she turned to find her little follower. Huffing and puffing and squealing with glee, Belle poked her head from behind a tree. “Hi, uh, Miss…” “I’m Whisterly, ?” “Yes, Miss Whisterly.” “Okay, that’ll do. How about a break? Could you sit for few minutes?” “Thank you for keeping me company this afternoon,” Sera said. “I had the most fun.” “Oh, do you have to go?” Belle whined. “No worries. I’ll see you again real soon. Don’t forget the True Name game we played today, Belle. Now you know why you must keep your brother’s name a secret.” Belle’s face looked solemn as she nodded slowly in response. “By the way, ma’am, success on the communication frontier,” she said with a wink at Belle. “That is very good news.” The best tidbit of the day actually, she thought. “So you practiced today speaking with your thoughts?”

Belle paused and, squeezing her eyes shut, clearly shouted yes! “Excellent. As I said, you’re a quick learner. Did you speak to Sera with your thoughts? “Yes.” “Did you speak to anyone else—using just your thoughts?” “We talked to a lot of people. We practiced when people ed us. Can I go home now?” “Come. Have a seat by me for a few minutes,” Whisterly said, patting the space beside her. Belle bounded over and plopped by her side. Whisterly chose her next words carefully. “Belle, what about your brother? Were you able to speak to him?” She smiled, beaming from ear to ear. “I heard him. He found me. I thought he was right beside me, but Sera said he found me through his thoughts.” “What did he say to you?” Whisterly asked, returning the smile. “He said he wanted to hear from me, and he asked me where I was.” “I see. And you replied?” Belle looked down, pondering her feet, kicking back and forth. “It’s okay. You can tell me.” “I told him that I was afraid,” she said, still focused on her feet and not meeting Whisterly’s gaze. “Anything else he said?” she prodded. “Yes, he said, yes.” “Okay,” she said. “Would you me for dinner, and then maybe we could try

and talk to your brother together. What do you say?” “Sounds like fun,” she said, jumping from her seat. We shall see, Whisterly thought; we shall see.

WHISTERLY SAT AT her desk in her office, reviewing the plans for the extraction op that she had discussed with the council only hours before, receiving their unanimous approval. Very soon, assuming all went as planned, Stephen would be among them again, and the cure would be found. Once and for all a healed nation was on the horizon. It was almost too much to hope for that the culmination of years of work would finally be coming to fruition. She glanced at her clock and noted she had only ten minutes until her meeting with the captain in charge of intel on this acquisition mission. During the council meeting all had appeared to be on the same page, but appearances could be deceiving, as she was well aware. She second-guessed herself a lot lately. One side effect of the experience with the traitors who had been flushed recently from the council was the incessant doubt she now experienced. It was unrelenting. A deep sigh escaped her lips, and she stood up, turning around to face the window behind her. She took in all the activities of life going on all around her: children playing, families interacting, business and commerce being conducted. This was all still possible due to decisions made years ago, against incredible odds, to keep their race thriving and productive, despite the destructive disease that plagued them all. With resources becoming scarce, choices had to be made, which involved hard, difficult arrangements. The years fell away as she thought back to the birth of her children. Could there have been a better, less traumatic path? One not so littered with pain, despair, and isolation? A series of knocks interrupted her thought process, bringing her immediately back to the present. “Yes, come in.” Arista entered, followed immediately by Vinique and the captain. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat. We must settle a few items before we move forward.” Whisterly felt her daughter’s connection immediately. Mother, I must say, you look awful today. Why, thank you, little one. My chronic lack of sleep must be catching up with me. Good one, Mother. You’re joking, so that’s an encouraging sign. “Time is of the essence, so I’ll get right to it. While we have full agreement of

the council and a general time line, there is no specific date for this operation to take place. In addition, an important piece of information is missing at this time —the actual location of Stephen. Our intel is good but not specific enough.” “Mother, I agree, and, if you had no success with Belle yesterday, I must take steps to train her right away in the hope of obtaining more details immediately.” “Belle is a quick study and a natural at this, which she doesn’t even recognize,” Whisterly said, “but, yes, she will need instruction in order for us to obtain what we need. We all know the Night Dwellers have technology that suppresses this type of communication.” “When do we start?” Arista asked. “Right away. Vinique, what do you think about assisting with this endeavor? You and Arista have the most skill and knowledge of our telepathic processes. As long as Belle’s form can handle the intensity of the training without deteriorating, this needs to be our singular focused effort until we can get the needed information to proceed.” “Absolutely. I’m in agreement,” Vinique interjected. “Captain, any existing tactical or logistical concerns you’d like to share?” “No, we are good to go. It does bear repeating that casualties are expected. They will be fewer with this type of specific procurement mission, compared to a fullscale attack. However, there will still be losses on both sides, and I cannot guarantee that they won’t be significant. You have said to obtain the target at all costs, and that is what we intend to do.” “Thank you for clarifying, Captain. I do understand, as does the council. Let me reiterate though, on behalf of the council, that we need Stephen alive. He is not an acceptable loss. If he dies, then all our years of research will be lost, and we will need to find another subject. That is not an option. Even with our current technological advantage, thousands are projected to die during the coming years without the cure we are anticipating. Due to our current depleted resources, we cannot plan another off-world search for many years. The recent mission to Earth will be the last for quite some time. This quest must be a success. This is what we have been anticipating for decades. All our efforts hinge on the success of this mission.”

“Yes, ma’am. My team fully understands the significance. As you know, we have been fully trained to handle operations just like this one. Should it come down to it, each member is prepared to give his life for the success of the operation.” “Thank you for your dedication and service. Glad we are in agreement, Captain. Once we have further information on Stephen, pinpointing his location, I will be in direct with you. Understood?” “Affirmative, ma’am.” “Now, would you excuse us while we discuss Belle’s training further?” “Absolutely. I will take my leave. I will await further orders.” “Thank you.” With a quick nod, the captain left, closing the door behind him. “Now to the training,” Whisterly said. “We need to trace the communication between Belle and Stephen very specifically. We must pinpoint his exact location, so we can focus our resources where they are needed. In order to do this, Belle will need skill well beyond her years. With your help, standing by her side, we could target several messages precisely designed to determine his exact location.” “I’m with you, Mother, and I agree it can work. With Vinique and I merging our resources and entering Belle’s cerebral pathways, we can construct what is needed in only a few days’ time, then hopefully obtain a quick response, initiating the information exchange that will give us the destination for our team. Vinique, would you agree?” Vinique nodded her head. “Yes, I do. The sooner, the better. Let’s get started.” “Mother, if I may, you mentioned our resources. How are we returning Stephen home? I know it isn’t the current focus, but wasn’t that the intention? To take him back to Earth?” “You’re correct. It isn’t the paramount objective at this time. Assuming he survives the additional medical procedures, and I believe he will, then we will address that concern when we have more knowledge of a time frame. Currently we don’t project to have the resources for another off-world excursion for

several years.” “Mother!” Arista exclaimed, her eyes bulging. “I thought his return had been incorporated into our plans. I know of only one other option for him returning home, and I don’t believe it has ever been successfully accomplished.” Whisterly walked around to the front of her desk, within arm’s reach of her daughter. “My first and frankly only concern at this time is the health and wellbeing of our people. Stephen’s interests must be secondary. We will deal with it as we are able. I know of what you speak, and, even though that method of transportation is dangerous, it could be considered. He also may choose to remain among us or lastly wait until we could arrange another trip to Earth.” Arista left her chair and stepped in closer to her mother. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but it sounds cold-hearted to treat Stephen this way, as the one who ultimately will save our race.” Nodding her head, as if pondering agreement, Whisterly continued. “From where I stand, it is the only answer I can give at this time. You will see—when you are in charge, little one—questions of the greater good are not easily solved with a one-solution-fits-all methodology. There are sacrifices. We will all soon see that as well.” Lowering her head in deference, Arista then turned to Vinique. “Shall we begin? I think this task deserves our constant attention, until we find success.” “I would agree,” Vinique said, rising to leave. “Thank you both for your commitment and loyalty,” Whisterly said, as she moved back behind the desk and took her seat. “As always, it is yours,” Arista said, ing Vinique. “We will stay in touch.”

WHISTERLY REREAD THE page in front of her for the third time, then, frustrated, closed the report. The pieces were coming together. Finally it seemed they would soon have Stephen to finish the task they had started so long ago. Once the intricate work that Arista and Vinique were involved in produced results, they would then move forward immediately. The captain had given her multiple assurances that the team was on alert and ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. So what was this nagging feeling, lurking within, that she couldn’t identify? She closed her eyes and focused inward, assessing the council ’ whereabouts and the pulse of the people. Moments later, emerging from the trance, she found nothing far from the ordinary, only a slight distancing of a few council . Satisfied, she resolved to check back with them again in a short time. Whisterly glanced at the envelope on the side of the desk then picked up the letter she had finished writing a short time ago and added number forty-nine in the corner. This installment now stowed safely away, she exhaled deeply. Even after all these years her pulse still quickened at the thought of him. At least now the truth was documented on the first set of tests performed those many years ago. Her focus returned to the conversation she had with her daughter only hours prior. The luxury of reverie was not an indulgence that she frequently allowed, and, when she did, protection of this specific piece of secret information was paramount. Behind a hastily built protective bubble, she allowed herself time for reflection to work through her next steps with Arista. Her daughter—what a great leader she would be someday. But, to rule effectively, she must know the full truth, very soon. Such a chaotic time that day was so many years ago now, and decisions had to be made quickly, under the veil of secrecy. Whisterly had been quite alone at the time, with only a few who knew the truth. What would Arista’s first thoughts be when she finds out that she has a twin? Whisterly had worked this hypothetical conversation through in her head so many times, each with an alternate ending, depending on her daughter’s responses, and had opted to keep this information carefully hidden until now.

Whisterly winced as she ed her despair upon learning she had given birth to twins. Her mother had hidden this fact from her and taken the second child while she had been unconscious after the surgical delivery. Eventually, she had come to understand the reasons—for the greater good—but, forgiveness of this betrayal didn’t come easily, or quickly, since both parents died soon after the births, and she would not have the opportunity to confront her face to face with the secret she had kept. Such a long time ago. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Back to the concern at hand. Arista would be effective in guiding the people in so many ways and possessed wisdom way beyond her years, but she needed this missing link. It would help to clarify much of the past and to illuminate the way forward as well. She must gain an understanding as to why her sibling was raised by another and protected under a cloud of secrecy. One of the last few live births, conceived outside the test tube, the twins represented genetic purity, as neither would succumb to the horrible disease currently decimating their race. Once given the time to assimilate the information and work through the shock, Arista would better understand the source of her mother’s drive for the past seventy-three years since Arista was born, and the recovery needs going forward. Future rulers would come from the twins’ lineage, and both had to survive for them to prosper as a race going forward. They would need each other. Time for the truth to be known, however difficult initially to ingest. Even disseminating the full truth would be difficult at this time, as there are pieces I still wouldn’t share, Whisterly thought. After succumbing to the disease myself so shortly after the births, decisions had to be put in motion to preserve the bloodline and to ensure the ultimate survival of our race. It was the only way. We certainly owe a significant debt to this human to be sure, given a positive outcome of a cure on the forefront. But Stephen isn’t the primary focus, and decision-making must not hinge on his ultimate well-being. She let her mind rewind even farther back in time, to a more carefree, joy-filled period, one that involved yet another human. Then it hit her. How could she have missed it? Maybe her daughter didn’t realize it herself, but now it was plain to her mother. Arista was in love. How could Whisterly have been so blind? The signs were all there, and she was her mother for goodness’ sake. This added an additional layer of concern. She could not allow her daughter to elevate his needs above those of the people. If Whisterly

could recognize the truth, then others would as well. Thus, a weakness that could be discovered and exploited, and it must be mitigated. She rose, determined to approach her daughter immediately. So much was at stake. She would not rest until vital information was given to her daughter, and Arista must hear it directly from her mother. Deeply and securely buried for so long, these decisions must come to light. Well, some of them. It could be explained in a reasonable way, one that Arista would understand, given time. Afterward, when the torch ed, so to speak, it would be easier to move forward with this burden lifted. Resolute, Whisterly rose and made her way to the door, feeling better about her decision with each successive step. As she crossed the room, the door flew open. “What are you doing here, and who allowed you entrance?” “No need to worry. I let myself in. Where are those pesky guards? One just can’t keep good help these days.” Whisterly realized her mistake. How long had she been disconnected? She was unsure. Obviously too long. Fully focusing on her visitor, she delved into the mush of his brain waves to determine the meaning of his visit. Instinctively reaching out to her daughter simultaneously, she found her pathway blocked. He laughed. “Dive into me all you’d like. You know I’m just made up of circuitry and wiring—same as you, I might add. But you’ll find that you have difficulty communicating outside the dampening field that I’ve taken great care to create, just so we would have our privacy.” Whisterly’s concern deepened, and she retreated slowly toward her desk. “What do you hope to find there? Nothing can help you now,” he retorted gleefully. Whisterly blindly groped under the desk drawer for the button she had had installed many years ago to alert authorities if she were compromised or somehow under attack. She hoped it still functioned. Whatever ploy he had planned, she knew she had to stall. “You have gone to some trouble to make your case. Why don’t you sit down and tell me what this is all about, and we can discuss it.”

“You know I’m not here to talk. I’m an open book. You’ve just pulled every bit of knowledge from my pathways and are analyzing it, as we speak. But it doesn’t matter. I’m just here as a bystander to enjoy the view,” he added with a sinister laugh. “Whatever happens to my form in this room, I can be regenerated. You, on the other hand, well, that’s a different story. You see, I’m just here to say good-bye.” Whisterly saw in his thoughts the evil plan put in motion that she was now powerless to stop, and the victory on his face was evident. She regretted her earlier lapse in judgment but knew there was one thing she could still do. Pulling out a red rose from his jacket, he laid it almost tenderly down in front of her on the desk. “A flower from Earth. Quite fitting, wouldn’t you say? Do you know how long I’ve worked to keep this thing alive, waiting patiently for this day? It wasn’t easy but worth it now, just to see the look on your face.” Whisterly had no words. She saw in his head the act about to happen, and she pulled from her own apparition into her disease-ridden body before the lethal injection poured through her veins. Simultaneously, with all her pent-up aggression, Whisterly exacted a final revenge as she sought out her assassin by entering his feeble brain and blasting him from her own hospital bed. Commotion ensued as beeps and bells went off, sending nurses and doctors scurrying. It was no use; his cranium had burst, spattering gray matter against the surrounding walls of his bed as well as covering those attending to him with a gory, grisly reddish paste. She smiled contently as the injection made its way, coursing throughout her aged, diseased limbs. Unfettered now, with the last bit of her waning energy, she sent a final message to her daughter. Love well, little one. Be patient. You will soon know the truth. I love you.

THE INSISTENT BUZZ followed by knocking startled the small group as Belle, Vinique, and Arista looked at each other in unison. Her two guards entered the room, unexpected and unannounced. Arista turned toward the door, annoyed by the intrusion, fully immersed in her work with Belle. “Yes, what is it? We are extremely busy here,” she stated, the irritation apparent in her voice. Arista met their troubled gazes and immediately knew they had bad news. She had been so caught up with Belle that she had not stayed connected elsewhere. Her full focus had been needed here, and they were on the precipice of an incredible breakthrough. Behind her Vinique stifled a sob. Arista turned hurriedly and grabbed her hands, pressing her forehead to her own. Frustrated and unprepared, Arista felt waves of sadness and emotions as they rolled over and through her being. She accepted the full measure of hurt, sorrow, and pain coming toward her from untold sources. “Mother. She has blocked access to me. Help me, Vinique. We can break through it. I must know her thoughts. Something awful has happened.” Vinique pulled Arista abruptly beside her, their hands still entwined. “Arista, stop. Stop and center yourself. You can feel it. She’s gone,” Vinique said, as tears flowed down her cheek unabated. “No, no. No ,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. Belle took several steps back from the sad scene, her eyes wide with shock. “Where has she gone?” Belle chimed in. “Come here, Belle,” Vinique urged, her other hand extended. Belle slowly walked over to the two distraught women, effectively forming a

small circle. Arista’s heart raced, and she struggled to keep her balance as she was overcome by grief coursing through her as if it were her very life blood, ebbing and pumping, weighing her down further with each ing second. Finally unable to take the onslaught of heartache and despair, she slid to her knees, desperate to maintain consciousness, her hands grasping her head, feeling as if it would explode. “Make…it…stop,” she whispered, in between gasps for breath. Vinique acted quickly, laying Arista softly on the ground, as the small team of concerned guards and Belle looked on. “Guard, help me get her to the couch and then send for her medical staff quickly. She will need attention right away.” Vinique knelt beside Arista and took her hand, connecting with her directly, entering her cerebral cortex. Hastily forming a message, she conveyed it as she set to work. “Rest for a time. You are much stronger than even you realize. I will handle all for the immediate time period.” Arista turned toward Vinique and gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head, as her eyes closed, and Vinique took over. Addressing first the incoming messages, she shored up Arista’s defenses, effectively blocking all extraneous communication receptors. The medical team arrived and istered medication, while Vinique continued on. Arista murmured incoherently as the group worked, then a short time later the medical team reported her respiration and heart beat were back to normal. As her countenance changed, she visibly relaxed. “The sedative is working. She will sleep through the night, if undisturbed,” the nurse imparted. “That’s a relief. I’ve done all I can at this point to allow her a little peace and quiet, as she assimilates and deals with this horrible truth,” Vinique added. “Ma’am?” one of the guards queried. “Yes, what is it?”

“You are the acting council head at the moment. We need to take you to a secure location.” “I understand. However, I’m staying put for the time being. We have important work that we must continue,” she said, searching the room for Belle, who had been momentarily forgotten. Vinique found Belle sitting quietly in a chair, hugging her knees closely to her chest. As she sat there, she slowly rocked back and forth. “Belle, dear, come here,” Vinique called. Dutifully Belle appeared by Vinique’s side, her eyes brimming with tears. “We’re not finished. Do you feel able to continue without Arista for now? We only have a little more to accomplish before we are able to launch our plan.” Belle looked worriedly at Arista, who was calmly resting on the couch now, and glanced up at Vinique. Crouching down next to Belle, Vinique continued. “She is sad, but she’s okay for now. We need to let her rest. Do you understand?” “Yes, I do,” she said solemnly. “I miss my ma and pa and brother too—and that makes me very sad.” “That’s right, almost exactly the same. She is grieving for her mother now. But your situation is a little different. Very soon you will be back with your family. ? Like we discussed?” At that thought, Belle’s face lit up. “Yes, yes, I do,” she said, a small smile forming. “Shall we finish then? Once this message gets through, and we receive a response, we are all set.” Belle nodded her head aggressively in agreement. Vinique smiled in return, and then turned to the guards and the one remaining medical staff member. “Leave us now. Remain outside the room. I will reach out to you if you are needed. Belle, me at the table, and let’s finish what we started,” she said, motioning to the middle of the room.

“Here I am,” she said, appearing from behind Vinique, seeming to be quite herself again. “Excellent. Now…where were we? Oh, yes, about to make imminent with your brother,” Vinique said. “Let’s get back at it,” she said, glancing over at Arista, who was still peacefully resting. The time to strike is now, she thought. We are so close.

ARISTA LET HERSELF fall deeper and deeper into her subconscious mind, ing through level after level of brain wave activity until she felt she had hit bottom, where she could explore her most personal thoughts. “Mother, Mother? Are you here? Please tell me that I haven’t lost all of you forever. Speak to me, please!” Love well, little one. Be patient. You will soon know the truth. I love you. The truth? What truth? Tell me more. I need more. Arista waited, pleading and imploring, and heard nothing more in return. Time stood still as she wrestled in the recesses of her mind, exploring here, meandering there. Not wanting to face her life, she felt no urgent need to emerge again as an active participant in her own world.

“THAT’S IT! WE’VE got it! Well done, Belle. I knew we could do it. We have their strategic location. We must move fast before Stephen is moved somewhere else.” Belle’s smile stretched from ear to ear after hearing the praise from Vinique. Relieved to have something positive come from this dreadful day, she moved around behind the desk and, tapping into the comm system, sent a message. “Captain, I’m relaying coordinates as we speak, detailing the location of Stephen. Our fact-finding mission was a success. Operation Return to Safety is a go. I repeat, a go. Prepare to leave at once. I want to see results tonight.” “Absolutely, ma’am. The team is assembled, and they’re on standby, awaiting my orders. We’ll have boots on the ground within the hour.”

THE CAPTAIN ACTIVATED the personnel responsible for the special ops mission, and, within the quarter hour, the briefing took place. “Gear up, soldiers. Check all backup ammunition and supplies. Let’s load up and move out.”

THOMAS FOCUSED ON the somewhat cryptic communication he had received. It had been difficult, desperately gaining what he could but, at the same time, hiding his attempts to stay in touch. They are coming. They’re coming, he reassured himself. He tried not to linger on any one message too long, fearful that he would be caught by the thought police. His mental boundaries were up, but, if they were effective, he had no way to know for sure. What would he be expected to do? He figured the Night Dwellers’ guns were under lock and key when he wasn’t training. The training exercises had become a much-need distraction, and, despite being held against his will, Thomas enjoyed the camaraderie of his trainers, Errol and Terron. They helped to keep his mind focused on the present, while doing what he could to prepare himself for whatever might be coming next. He didn’t realize how much he missed the companionship of those close to his own age until he began the outings and spent his days expending worthwhile energy. He still resented his time cowering in a cell. It was demeaning and dehumanizing. Thomas glanced outside and, seeing the blanket of darkness, felt energized, knowing he would soon be back on the range. His heartbeat quickened, and the adrenaline rush began anew as he anticipated the cool touch of the weapons and the lethal power he was about to harness. Thomas heard the sound of rushing footsteps, followed by shouting, which pulled him from his reverie. The door burst open. “What’s happening?” Thomas asked. “You’re coming with me. Simon instructed me to take you farther down,” Terron said. “Hopefully we can keep you better secured below.” “Hopefully? Don’t really like the sound of that.” Could this be it? Are they here? The commotion in the hall was growing more intense. Thomas pulled Terron into his room. “Hey, if there’s a fight out there, you gotta give me a chance, a weapon, so I can defend myself.” “Uh, not so sure that’s a good idea.” “Not a good idea? I could die out there,” Thomas said, motioning at the hallway. Terron appeared to be wrestling with the decision so Thomas continued on. “You

know I can help. You’ve seen me in action, and Simon wants me alive,” he added, inwardly disgusted with himself. “Yes, true, true.” “Well?” “Absolutely no guns for now. I can protect you while I take you to the new safe house.” “What?” Thomas exclaimed in desperation. “Do you hear what’s going on out there?” “Shush, and let me finish. I do have another option—one just as deadly in the right hands. You our training yesterday?” “Of course, it was yesterday,” Thomas said restlessly. “Okay, genius. I’m talking about the knife exercise,” he whispered, opening his vest to reveal his small collection. Thomas’s gaze feasted on the treasure trove of knives tucked neatly in succession along the inside of Terron’s vest, each with its own individual sheath. Thomas knew he would only have seconds to make a decision. “Hurry, we must get moving.” “All right,” Thomas said, taking a deep breath. His eyes moved back and forth, looking for the one he had trained with frequently. “Ah, here it is,” he said, pointing. “Well, grab it, and let’s go.” “You got it.” Thomas reached for the KA-BAR, putting his hand around the solid grip. Its full seven-inch blade commanded attention. He turned it over in his hands, and the reflection from the light in the room bounced off the blade, momentarily blinding and distracting him. A sigh of relief escaped him as he pulled it close, more comfortable now to have some form of personal protection. “Secure the weapon, and let’s move,” Terron reiterated.

Thomas quickly lifted his pants leg and slid the knife into his boot and covered it again. “Now, I need you to stay close, right behind me. You understand? If we draw fire, reach around and grab my holstered Smith & Wesson. Got it? I’ll be good with my Winchester,” he said, patting the shotgun. “Right, got it,” Thomas said, as his heart skipped a beat. This is really happening. “Now let’s go,” Terron said, as he entered the smoky hallway. “Hey, where’s Errol?” “Quiet! He’s meeting us at the new safe house,” he whispered, “and Simon is as well.” That’s just great, Thomas thought, struggling now to keep up. Renewed pangs of terror and pain threatened to transfix him to the spot. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and picked up the pace. Not too far ahead shots were fired, lighting up the hallway in front of them. Thomas crouched down low as bullets whizzed over his head. “Change of plan. In here.” Terron shoved Thomas through an open door as he aimed, slid the pump back and forth, and returned fire. From Thomas’s limited vantage point he could still see out the door of the room as one of the bullets hit its mark, quickly followed by a loud groan. Someone at the other end of the hall fell, and the remaining group returned fire. “Did you have to kill him?” Thomas said, rubbing his forehead, worried about his potential rescue in progress. Terron glared at him. “You do know how this works, right? They shoot at us. We shoot back, and it continues until we win.” “Or you lose,” Thomas added. “Not an option.” Terron paused, closing his eyes, focusing silently.

Thomas knew Terron was communicating telepathically with Simon and probably receiving the next strategic move. “So where to?” “We stay put. Simon is closing in on our location. He’ll be here any minute.” Thomas watched as Terron reloaded but was thinking instead of the limited options. With only a single way in and out, and no windows, Thomas only saw one reasonable course of action. He sized up his trainer, gauging his chances, his gaze lingering on the gun in play. His flight instinct was taking over as he contemplated knocking out his trainer before Simon arrived and making a run for the other side, hoping he didn’t get shot in the process. He froze as his chest tightened. Oh, no, Simon’s close. Thomas heard his name repeated over and over in his head. Time slowed as Simon burst through the door, carrying a semiautomatic rifle. The memory of the haunting pain returned. Thomas’s mouth went dry. Thomas’s gaze darted to Simon’s gun. Simon and Terron conversed, discussing their present situation. Thomas evaluated the stock, barrel, and the characteristic wood casing of the gun, as he fought for control of his own mind. He knew he was looking at a M1 Garand. Simon perched the weapon almost casually on his shoulder with his back slightly turned away from Thomas. Simon leaned down, speaking with Terron. Thomas was brought back to the present when the gunfire resumed, and, with the door cracked open, he watched as Simon took aim and fired his weapon. Adjusting for the recoil, he took virtually no time to aim and fire again at his target, and, as Thomas walked slowly closer, he watched while, together, Terron and Simon took out soldiers like sitting ducks at the county fair. He counted the rounds as Simon shot. One, two, three… And Thomas edged still closer. Four, five. Not much time now. His hand involuntarily twitched as it moved down to his boot, reaching for the knife hidden there. Only steps away now, Simon gave Thomas a shocked, almost hurtful look before Simon leveled the automatic weapon at Thomas’s face. At the disruption, Terron stopped firing, his focus changed to the situation unfolding. Oh, my God. I’m going to die, Thomas thought as he took several steps

backward. “How dare you, Thomas,” Simon said, backing Thomas farther into the room. The all-too-familiar pain returned. He found himself unable to speak and was left panting, groping at his neck, gasping for air. “After all our time together you still don’t get it, do you?” Simon continued, slowly approaching, the gun only inches from Thomas’s cheek now. Thomas closed his eyes, just wanting the pain and humiliation to be over. One, Thomas began feebly, as he counted silently, trying to maintain consciousness. Two, he continued. His heart ached, racing in his chest, and his head pounded to a beat of its own. Thomas slipped to the ground, unable to his own weight, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the shallow breaths he took would be his last. Behind his closed eyes Thomas heard a shot that he presumed would be ending his life. Is this how it happens? I thought you didn’t hear the shot that kills you. His hair damp and pasted to his forehead while sweat dripped into his eyes, he opened them a little, just in time to see Simon grab his own leg and moan in pain. Terron approached, coming in closer for another shot. Momentarily forgotten and limbs functional again, Thomas’s basic instincts kicked in. With an involuntary groan, he slowly clawed his way toward the door, his braces screeching noisily as he progressed. He saw Terron in front of him, motioning Thomas forward, then he heard the next shot coming from behind. What was that, six now? He didn’t want to lose count. It was a hit. Thomas found himself sprayed with blood; then came another shot, seven, followed in quick succession by number eight. He heard the clip pop out of Simon’s gun with its signature metallic ping, while at the same time he felt something warm and wet slap him in the face. In horror and disgust, Thomas reached up to pull his friend’s stray bleeding flesh off his own body. He struggled to see where Terron had fallen, Thomas’s own face covered with his sweat and Terron’s blood partially clouding his vision. Thomas’s gaze met with the empty stare of his trainer. He heard Terron draw a raspy breath, and his mouth moved as if to form words, but no sound came. Thomas stifled a sob, watching as Terron’s body lay in an unnatural position, quivering and convulsing, temporarily struggling against imminent death.

Busy reloading the clip to pop back into the magazine and nursing his own wound, Simon was no longer focusing on Thomas. Rage and pent-up hatred bared now, Thomas grabbed the knife from its hiding place in his boot, and closed the distance between himself and Simon, thrusting the knife into the meat of his side. Turning on his attacker, Simon quickly pushed himself backward, but not before Thomas twisted the knife and then pulled it free, poised to strike again. He heard the clip slide back into the magazine and knew it would all be over soon since he had not killed Simon. His knife was no match for a semiautomatic weapon. He closed his eyes and drew in his breath. He felt himself sway, and his thoughts drifted. My dad would be proud of me, he thought, smiling to himself, but he’ll never know. All went dark before his eyes. Thomas heard a clatter, followed by a rush of people entering the room, then…nothing.

THE DAY WATCHERS burst through the door and stopped in silence, taking in the gruesome scene: one dead, unidentified; and one injured, their asset, Thomas, who lay on the floor covered in blood and remnants of gore.

ARISTA PREPARED FOR her day, mentally reviewing all that was ahead for her. With great relief she received the news late last night of their mission’s triumph over the Night Dwellers. Ultimately this success would define her mother’s reign. Without question she must now see to its fruition in a cure for her people. She winced as she thought of all Stephen had endured. Simon had been controlling Stephen for weeks, and it had taken its toll. He had to be resuscitated en route to the compound and had arrived in horrible shape last night—critical condition. An uncontrollable shiver shot through her body as she thought of the evil that Simon had promulgated. Apparently Stephen had undergone quite an ordeal— the types of atrocities that had been outlawed over one hundred years ago. Arista’s eyes filled with tears, then flowed unchecked as she thought of all the pain and suffering Stephen had experienced. Her emotional state had been in constant flux during these two days since Whisterly’s death. Now she had to deal with this injustice too. As she moved from her all-encoming personal disaster of her mother’s murder to Stephen’s successful return—which had actually involved decades of work and included whole teams of people—it just was too enormous for her to assimilate all at once. She had to break it into manageable chunks. Arista reached for her medication by her bedside table, took a dose, and allowed herself to sit, reflect, and grieve. Casualties from the mission had not been inconsequential. Two were dead and six injured from the Day Watchers, not including Stephen, and at least one dead from the Night Dwellers. The team had sighted Simon during the fight, but, when they arrived at Stephen’s location, Simon was nowhere to be found. With the scene as described, all assumed he was in critical condition as well. The division separating the Day Watchers and Night Dwellers was now wider. Had we once really lived together in peace? Arista asked. Her medication took effect, and a calmness permeated her being. She inhaled a deep breath and reached for the tea, left for her earlier. It warmed her hands as she sipped it. She must check in on Stephen. He had been through so much, and little Belle must see her brother, before necessary actions were taken to release her back to Earth. And finally, today, this evening would be Arista’s final worldly good-bye to her mother. A soft knock on the door pulled her from her

thoughts. “Yes, come in.” The guard opened the door, and Vinique walked in. “You look much better today,” Vinique said, as she extended her arms toward Arista. “Thank you, but my heart is heavy,” she said, “and I feel like a ghost of my former self, almost like my soul no longer has a home. The moments I’m not falling apart are a struggle just to put one foot in front of another. I’m so used to my mother being an everyday part of my guidance—my internal com, so to speak—that I feel quite lost without her. She was always there, you know? Constantly in my head. We always had each other. I’m not sure how I’ll continue or how I can give meaningful direction to our council.” “Let me stop you for a moment, may I?” Arista turned her gaze toward Vinique in silent affirmation. “You’ve heard what I’m about to say, as you may have actually said it to others, but it’s you this time hearing it, so let it sink in. The grief process isn’t one that you can dictate or rush through. You must move forward according to your own timetable, at your own pace. You are so fortunate to have a large group of people ready to you in your time of need—me included,” she said, smiling, giving Arista’s hand a squeeze. “The loss of Whisterly can’t be quantified,” Vinique said. “Her shoes won’t be filled by another, but we must go on. She wouldn’t want you to crawl away and hide, not after all the work that’s been done to cure this sick and crumbling race. She was the reason we went to the stars in search of an answer, a cure for our illness. She was the reason that our research eventually led us to Stephen. And she oversaw our council, giving them the guidance and to make the necessary decisions that kept the majority of our people alive while we waited for a cure to be found. We owe her a great debt, along with many others as well of course.” Arista’s face contorted as she fought back tears, and she said, gasping, “You see, I told you I can’t go out in public. I can’t go five minutes without bursting into tears.” A weak smile turned up the edges of her mouth.

“You’re allowed. Cry when you need to.” Her cheeks damp and eyes brimming with tears, Arista continued. “You came here to review the service?” “Yes, I thought we might discuss a small portion of it. Keep in mind most of her funeral has been planned already. She was sick, like the majority of us. She knew her body could falter and fall to this disease that has haunted us for centuries. Whisterly was prepared, and she will continue to guide us long after her death.” Arista nodded. “No truer words were ever spoken, and, if you’ll allow me, I’ll use that this evening in my eulogy. It’s perfect.” “Absolutely. Of course.” Arista paused, gathering her thoughts. “Vinique, before we continue, I need to thank you. Thank you for the obvious—caring for me during this time, your tenacious of my mother—but also your willingness to me and Belle as we fought for Stephen. The rest don’t realize, and they may never, the true miracle we performed yesterday. Only by Belle’s true love, funneled through us, did we overcome Simon’s hold on Stephen. That process is rarely successful, but we did it. Mostly though you and Belle did it at the end.” “It was all of us. And, if you search your feelings, I think you will realize that you have very strong feelings for Stephen as well,” she added. “I personally believe you tipped the scales. Your prowess in teleconnectivity is unmatched. The break in Simon’s hold on Stephen would not have happened without your skill. I’m still unsure how Belle was not pulled in, controlled, and used against us though. Her true name is known.” “We still don’t know some factors, including the full involvement of Belle. Much more is there. She’s a natural. Without her familial pull on Stephen’s inner psyche, we would have most likely failed.” “Yet here we are. Ready to move a new generation of Day Watchers forward and soon hopefully to be disease-free. I got word from the doctors this morning that Stephen’s condition has been upgraded from critical to serious, a step in the right direction. If he continues on that path, the final tests may be performed in as soon as one week. From there, assuming good news, the cure is on the horizon. We will once again be a race with a future!”

“Let me quit being a blubbering mess for a few minutes so we can discuss the pieces of the service that we must,” Arista said. “Sure. Let me refresh your tea, and I’ll you with a cup as well.”

ARISTA WALKED THROUGH the side door, accompanied by Vinique on her right and her guards behind her. The council came in behind the guards, filling in the first two rows, as the crowd erupted in a thunderous applause. As Arista made her way to the lectern, she scanned the masses gathered in front her. She approached the assembly and motioned for the group to sit. “Thank you, everyone. Thanks for attending. Your presence here means so much to me, and my hope is that you find comfort in one another as well as joy in sharing memories of my mother and, through commemorating all she has done for each of us, a peace in her ing.” Arista paused, took a deep, shaky breath, then continued. “Whisterly was always prepared, even for this aspect of her life, and she will continue to guide us long after her death. She has left us a wonderful legacy. Let us now celebrate her life, a life well lived, full of service and love to those around her, a life that has touched us all, a life destined to live on through each of you.” The crowd again rose to their feet, clapping in of their fallen leader. Energized, Arista continued with the rest of the service.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER she took her seat beside Vinique. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Getting started was a little rough. But, as I spoke, I could feel her spirit with me. It felt right, you know? And real. Just like she would have wanted…and here I go again,” she said, as silent tears began anew.

ARISTA TAPPED SOFTLY on the door, unsure if she would actually receive a response. “Come in.” The soft meek response brought a smile to her lips as she pushed through the door, eager to see Belle, who was fast becoming one of her favorite little people. “Good morning, Belle. How are you today?” “I’m ready to go,” she announced, propelling herself off the bed in a long leap. “I can see that,” Arista said, smiling at Belle’s enthusiasm. Arista knew Belle was looking forward to their visit with Stephen as well. Five days had ed since his return to the compound. The doctors were still concerned with many aspects of his health, but his improvement had been significant enough to have his condition upgraded to stable. He appeared to be out of imminent danger. “ now,” Arista said, “we must not be loud. Others in the hospital are recovering from injuries and illnesses, and we cannot disturb them.” Belle looked up and nodded, wide-eyed in response. “Let’s go,” Arista said, reaching out to grab the little outstretched hand. She wanted to ask and say so many things to Stephen. This ordeal had been brutally painful for him—his kidnapping as well as his sister’s predicament, the horror of his mistreatment, not to mention his own life-threatening injuries he had sustained. Arista needed to wait for those discussions, she decided. Some of these conversations would be best to have one on one. When they reached the door to Stephen’s room, Belle hesitated, glancing at Arista for approval. “It’s okay. Don’t be timid. Knock softly, and go on in. He’s expecting us,” Arista said. With an eager nod, Belle softy knocked, pulled the door open, and slowly poked

her head into the room. “It’s really you,” she exclaimed, running to his bedside. “Come here you,” he said, reaching for her. Belle carefully climbed onto the bed, awkwardly making her way to her brother. As she got closer, he pulled her in the rest of the way, and they embraced, swaying back and forth in a calming rhythm. After a few moments Belle broke free of his grasp and sat back, studying him. “I was so worried. They said you might, you might…” Her voice broke off abruptly, as tears filled her eyes, and she looked down, wringing her hands. Stephen reached over, putting his hand under her chin to lift her face, even with his own. “It’s okay. I’m right here. See?” he said, his arms outstretched in affirmation. Belle slid in closer and, finding a perfect spot, reached her arms around Stephen and lay her head on his chest, exhaling deeply. Arista couldn’t help but smile, taking in the family reunion that she knew would end all too soon. As the siblings spoke with each other, Arista moved toward the bed, filling the chair next to Stephen. We too have some things to talk about, she communicated silently. While she spoke, her gaze found his, and she reached for his hand. Stephen, startled, looked up as her touch radiated through him, and they stared, transfixed, their thoughts a constant single stream. Arista gasped in sorrow as she felt the pain that Stephen had endured at the hands of Simon, and Stephen also felt the loss and sadness that Arista had experienced upon the death of Whisterly. Belle continued to talk, not privy to their silent conversation. “You know, your brother should probably rest for a little while. This has been quite a lot of excitement for one day,” Arista said, turning toward Belle. “I’ve got a few more things to discuss with him before I leave. Sera is on her way to pick you up, so you don’t have to stay so long.”

Belle looked back and forth, studying them. “Uh-huh, I see. You just don’t want me here while you talk.” “That’s not true,” Stephen said in a voice full of mock protest. “It will only bore you, and, besides, you’ll have more fun with Sera.” “Well, can I puleeze come back later?” she pleaded. “I miss my brother.” Her eyes focused forlornly on Stephen. Arista’s heart broke for them both. They had been through so much. “It will have to be tonight. ’Cause doctors say I’m busting outta here tomorrow,” he said, smiling broadly. Belle bounced on the bed and clapped in celebration. “What great news,” Arista said. “Okay, she’s here. Sera just called for me. I’ll see you a little later.” Belle made her way up close to her brother’s face and hugged him tightly as she whispered, “I love you, and I’m so glad you’re not dead.” Stephen chuckled. “Me too,” he added. Seemingly satisfied her brother was okay for the time being, she scurried down the way she had come and left, flashing one more quick toothy grin, closing the door behind her. Arista turned her attention back to Stephen. “There’s much to discuss. Are you sure you’re up to it?” “I’m all yours. Go.” “I guess you realize that, during your prior visit here, you were in holographic form, as your sister is now.” Stephen cringed as he said, “unfortunately for me, Simon more or less let me in on that fact. He mentioned a few other things as well. Why didn’t you tell me just how bad things were between the two groups? You all brought us into quite

the conflict.” “Your sister is extremely gifted in the art of telepathy,” Arista said. “She was instrumental in reaching you. Without her, I’m not sure if Vinique and I would have gotten through to you. She may very well be the key to getting you home. And, regarding the conflict, we simply had no other choice. You are our only hope at this point.” “I’m listening.” “Our resources are limited. The council will not authorize another off-planet visit for many years…” Stephen groaned. “You mean, I have to stay here?” “We have one other possibility, but it’s a long shot and dangerous as well for the one completing the trip.” “Okay. Let’s hear it.” “This is somewhat complicated, and I’m not well versed in interstellar travel, but let me try to explain. Our minds have the ability to pull those we love through time and space. Partially this ability allowed us, with Belle’s help, to free you from Simon’s control. You see, he had your ‘true’ name and with that comes a powerful controlling factor within our world. But Belle’s love broke through and transcended that force, and, if I’m being honest with myself…” Arista’s voice trailed off and was barely audible as she finished speaking, intently studying her hands. “I’m thinking my feelings for you helped as well.” Stephen’s mouth went dry, and his lips moved, but nothing came out. Arista let out a giggle. “, I know your thoughts,” she reminded him. “That’s good, ’cause I’m at a total loss of words,” Stephen said. “Maybe being marooned here wouldn’t be so bad…” “No… You would eventually hate me for taking you away from your family.” She continued. “You need to think this through. You’ve experienced a very traumatic time. So has your family and so has mine. Your family has the chance to be whole again, if this is successful. First, we must release Belle back to

Earth. Her holographic patterns are degrading, and, at this point, she is unaware of the technology keeping her here. I thought it best not to explain it to her. It’s a very difficult concept to grasp—” “Stop, yes. I agree. Do it. Free her as soon as possible,” Stephen said, his frustration mounting. “You’re right. My family must be going crazy. She needs to be safe, at home.” Arista flashed a seething glare at him. “Your wish is my command.” She rose to leave. “Wait. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. It came out a little… harsh, maybe?” “Maybe?” Arista said, as she took a step toward the door. Stephen instinctively reached for her hand and pulled her back toward the bed. “Don’t go. I just can’t believe it—you, me, us?” Arista shivered at his unexpected touch, and her anger dissipated as quickly as it had intruded. “Why shouldn’t I go?” she asked. Stephen brought his finger to his lips as a playful smile formed there. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Don’t make an injured man beg. You know what I’m thinking,” he said, his gaze playful. “Yes. I believe I do,” she said, smiling in return. Stephen gently took her head in his hands and pulled her closer to him. Her heartbeat quickened as she responded to his embrace, and their lips met, softly at first, then more urgently, lingering as they explored.

ARISTA FUMBLED WITH her bedside light. Sleep evaded her. It was pointless to lie in bed, she decided. Stephen’s release today from the infirmary meant action needed to be taken soon. He was still in imminent danger. Even though their doctors had reported success in the development of the final stages of the cure, the people had not been informed. Formal testing had begun, and, due to lives being lost daily, this stage would be accelerated. Still secrecy was needed. Stephen had not even been made aware that the doctors had conducted additional testing, pulled samples, and investigated his DNA. Too much was at stake, and anything he knew could be pulled from him by the Night Dwellers. The extent of Simon’s injuries remained unknown also, even after multiple attempts at intelligence gathering. However, she had felt his malevolent presence on multiple occasions over the past few days, and, whether the source was from mind-probing telepathy or bad dreams, the result was the same. She felt strongly he was still alive. Her stomach turned with revulsion at the thought of him. He had almost killed Stephen by making him a plaything. Simon’s cruelty seemed to know no bounds. If she could get Stephen off-world, it was her duty to do so, before Simon came back for seconds. She prepared her tea and a light breakfast, and pondered her predicament. Currently on leave from the council due to her mother’s death, she could take no action formally representing the people as the council’s leader. All those decisions were in the capable hands of Vinique, who had been understandably quite busy of late. Arista felt her insides warm as she allowed her thoughts to return to Stephen and the intimate moment they had shared. The pent-up feelings and desire had caught her off guard, even though she had known for some time, deep in her heart, that she loved him. How difficult to acknowledge—he was human; she was not. How could there be a future, and would he even want one with her? Over the rim of her teacup she spotted the large envelope she had set aside on her bedside table last night. Whisterly’s penmanship adorned the outside. It read simply My Little One. Hoping for needed wisdom and eager to read her mother’s words, Arista retrieved the package and settled in again. She ran her fingers over the length of the small parcel, evaluating her strength to handle its contents. Eager for knowledge, with a deep, trembling breath, Arista decisively

emptied the package onto her lap. She saw many envelopes, each with a number in the corner. One had the words Read First written across the front, with a number one in the corner. So be it, Arista resolved, and she carefully opened number one. Hello, my darling daughter. If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. So, first of all, know you are loved and fully capable of the task ahead of you. You have been prepared since birth to preside over the council as its ruling elder, and, even though I’m unsure of the timing of this letter, I know that my death will most surely rock your most carefully constructed foundation. As I write this, you are only four months old. Already I can tell your strengths are astounding and your abilities innately superior. With deep regret, however, I must it to a secret that was necessary since your birth, but one that you must now know to make fully cognizant decisions on behalf of your people. So here it is: your father is human. The specifics I will detail in later communications, but, for now, understand that I loved him deeply, despite the reason for our original conjugation. Hopefully by the time you are reading this, the dreadful disease that has befallen our people has been eradicated, but, if not, be confident it will be soon. To put it simply, I needed an heir who would not succumb to this horrible sickness. A human mating offered the best chance of this outcome. The science aside, your health has been confirmed by specialists. You are immune, due to your human DNA. My primary objective has been achieved. And I apologize for the additional shock that you will receive with the second part of this message, but, in order to protect the line of succession, the utmost secrecy on this issue was necessary: you are a twin, and your brother was placed in the care of a foster family to protect his anonymity. Arista paused. I’m a what? Twin? Her cheeks damp now, she wiped away tears that she didn’t crying, but they continued to flow. She couldn’t imagine her mother keeping a secret like this for so long. How could she? With a huff, Arista stopped and rifled through the letters, looking for a later installment, one that would reveal quickly what she wouldn’t wait to know. She pulled a random letter from the back of the pack and noted number twenty-six in the corner, then hastily grabbed its contents. Maybe the written word would prove her intuition wrong, she hoped, quickly scanning the letter, searching for names and the context of their use. Then she found it, a stray sentence: Simon…he is,

after all, still your brother. “No, no, no…” she repeated, becoming louder with each iteration. “It’s true. I feel it. He’s a part of me,” she said desperately, flinging the letter to the floor. She fell to her knees as a sob overtook her. Her body convulsed with fits of coughing, and she began to retch. Why? Why didn’t Mother tell me? Arista thought, as she rushed to the bathroom, relieving her stomach of the breakfast she had just consumed. Tears still falling, she stood at the sink, splashed cold water on her face, and rinsed her mouth, while she reined in her emotions. “Arista?” Startled, she faced Stephen, who looked just as surprised as she was. “Sorry, I, uh, uh, felt something was wrong…and, and…you didn’t answer the door,” he stuttered. Her chest heaving from crying, and unable to meet his gaze, she let the words flow that she was ashamed to utter. “Well, I might as well tell you. Otherwise you’ll find out if you search my feelings. I’m not hiding it,” she said resolutely. “Simon is my…brother,” she said, barely able to put the four words together. Arista watched as Stephen’s look of concern contorted and transformed to one of disgust, and she turned her back to him, unable to hold her emotions in check and not wanting to see the judgment that she knew would be evident on his face. “How?” Stephen asked, shaking his head in disbelief. Her back still turned, Arista pointed behind her to the letters strewn on the floor. “My mother told me so, years ago in these letters apparently, and I never had a clue. She was surely a master,” Arista said bitterly, turning to face Stephen, as she stifled another sob. He looked at the letters littering the floor and bent to pick them up. “No. Don’t touch them,” she warned. Stephen froze. “No telling what else has been hidden from me.”

“Come. Sit,” Stephen said. “Maybe you’re on to something. Well, something else, I mean. I’ll bet lots of information are in these. You can’t control who your family is—your ma, your pa, your sisters, or brothers—but you can control who you choose to be friends with. And that would be me,” he said, raising his eyebrows, as a tentative grin escaped his lips. She couldn’t help but smile despite herself; he looked so goofy. “How many of these have you read?” he asked, pointing to the mess of correspondence that covered the floor. “Only one and part of this one,” she said, picking up the letter again, her voice almost back to its normal tone. “Maybe, just maybe, something in one of these might help us understand how I can get home. what you said before about pulling someone through time and space?” Arista thought about the letter she had read. No, wait. She didn’t finish it. She saw the mention of a twin, and she had stopped. She grabbed the initial letter, found where she had quit reading, and picked up where she had left off, reading aloud. “Your brother was placed in the care of a foster family to protect his anonymity. I will explain more over the course of my very long life hopefully, but I wanted all this documented for the future, knowing now we will be seeking another human to help us develop a cure, and that human might need to find an alternate way home, just as your father did. Find the letter marked two. To sum it up quickly, there is a little-known pathway to alternate worlds. Very few know of its existence. Thus it has been kept a secret. The ingredients needed are few: training, patience, and true love of the subject in question. I’m betting you will have the first two in abundance, if I have taught you well. The last one is up to you, little one. Should the last factor not hold true, this method will not be an option. You must then explore a more traditional means of space travel in that case. The portal will not initialize without the power of this energy generated on both sides of it.” Stephen gripped her hand urgently, and Arista stopped reading. They stood transfixed. “Does the last factor hold true?” Stephen swallowed, gulping loudly.

Arista paused, her breath caught in her throat. Her gaze silently searched his, then she responded, “Yes, it is true.” Stephen released his breath, visibly relaxing. Their gazes still locked, she let the letter fall from her fingers. He stood and brought Arista to her feet, raising her slightly in the air and lowering her body slowly until their lips met. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she allowed herself to be momentarily swept away— the impact of the sudden news, the tears and frustration from earlier, all temporarily forgotten. When they parted, they smiled. “Let’s find letter number two,” he said finally, breaking the silence. “I have a feeling I’ve got a few things to learn.” “And me as well. My father was human,” she said slowly, letting the full impact sink in.

HER FATHER WAS human. Arista let the words settle. She had never given her heritage deep thought. Difficulty with procreation had been a fact of life for so long. For decades they had accepted that science had a heavy hand in all births. She had never broached this subject with her mother, and, more important, her mother had deeply buried this fact from her. Arista eyed the box that contained the letters from her mother. After the discovery two days ago she had decided to treat the letters with additional care. With letters one, two, and part of twenty-six read, she boxed up all forty- nine and resolved to set a time for each one. If her mother had committed her words to paper for Arista’s benefit, then Arista would set aside a special time to absorb them individually over time. Still reeling from the information she had obtained so far, she resolved to put it to good use, beginning today. Today Belle would be released, and today would also be the first attempt to transport Stephen back home. Arista had trusted Vinique with the contents of letter number two, and yesterday the four of them had worked through a plan. Belle was excited to know she would be with her family again very soon, as long as her brother would be following. Arista surveyed the table setup one final time. Satisfied, she smiled, poured herself a drink, and walked to her desk to finish a few tasks before her three guests arrived. So much had occurred over the past week: the death of her mother; the subsequent death of her mother’s murderer, Novaryous; the rescue of Stephen; the disclosure of her twin; the discovery of her origin; and now finally the report of the initial testing of the cure was in her hands. Arista reread the report, committing the details to memory. As she read the summary, she was pleased. Preliminary results showed marked improvements in all age ranges, male and female alike. Even though a disparity existed in the degree and rate of improvement, depending on the severity of individual cases, in each circumstance an arrest of the disease’s forward progression was made. This was excellent news. Soon maybe they could actually spend more resources on the living of life and less on maintaining diseased individuals in stasis. Her mother’s life’s work was coming to fruition. Even though not conclusive at this point, all tests confirmed

improvement and varying levels of eradication of disease. Their civilization had a future again, all thanks to Stephen and Belle. Arista glanced out the window and saw the pair approaching. They were laughing and playing, just as a brother and sister should. Bile rose in her throat, and her muscles tensed as thoughts of Simon, her brother, filled her being. The only way through this mess had to be peace eventually, she reasoned. Once the cure was secured, maybe that could be offered to all, even the Night Dwellers. Maybe on a less desperate footing, a healing race could come together as one— perhaps in the future. For now, thoughts of Simon and the Night Dwellers only conjured up visions of torture and echoes of pain for the one she now loved. Her heart felt bruised. The one she loved was going home today. It was too sudden. She pushed away the thought. A knock on the door confirmed her guests’ arrival, and, before she reached the door, a guard escorted the duo inside. “Ma’am?” “Yes, come in, please. And thank you.” With a nod, the guard left, closing the door. Belle ran to the window and pulled herself up for a better view. “It’s like we’re invisible. Look at all of them,” Belle exclaimed. Arista reached out her hand in invitation as Stephen approached. While she watched him cross the room, she realized he was no longer defined by his braces. Barely limping now, he had changed in his short time on Remeon. He was slender still from his imprisonment with the Night Dwellers, but the training he had had there had further developed and refined his muscles. And not only that. The naivety he had when he first arrived on planet was now replaced with a quiet confidence of one who has gone through trials and come out stronger on the other side. She found him absolutely irresistible, and she pulled him in close for a hug. Stephen nuzzled her neck, holding her tightly, working his way toward her mouth, planting a trail of soft kisses along the way. Arista let out a gasp of pleasure as his lips found hers. They entwined, and she felt his heartbeat

quicken, and a soft moan escaped his mouth as they parted. “Straighten up you,” she whispered. “Your sister is watching.” “I don’t care who sees me,” he said, his gaze devouring her inch by inch. “Maybe we should rethink this. I could stay a while longer and…” “No, we’ve decided,” she said firmly. “For everyone’s safety, ? We’ll still communicate. It’s almost a certainty. You retained your telepathic abilities the first time, even as an amateur, and now your skills have improved immensely.” Arista wondered if she were convincing Stephen or herself; she didn’t want him to go. She wanted to make a life with him. “If we do this, if I go back through this…portal, like we plan, that means we can also plan for me to return for a visit. Isn’t that right?” “In theory, yes. In reality, who knows? I’m counting on our ability to communicate. And I know, deep in my soul, that this is the right path, and we will be together again. Don’t you feel it too?” “I feel only you,” he said hoarsely. She pushed him away playfully. “Let’s get those brain waves working again, shall we?” “I’m painfully aware that everything is in perfect working order,” he whispered. Arista turned various stages of crimson as she smiled, completely unaware that Vinique had walked in. “They’re ignoring me,” Belle announced. “It would appear so,” Vinique confirmed, surveying the situation. “Mary Belle, don’t be rude,” Stephen added. “What did you just say?” Arista said, bringing her finger to his mouth to silence him. Protect your thought waves before you answer my question, she said to Stephen telepathically.

Her middle name is Belle. Her full name is Mary Belle, Stephen responded. We call her Belle since my older sister’s name is Mary. Oh, no, she said. We must act now. Even in holographic form we can’t let someone take control of her. “Come here, Belle,” Vinique said. “Are you ready for the adventure we planned yesterday? You’ll fall asleep here and wake up at home with your family. And what do you do next? Do you ?” “A course I do. You all asked me that a hundred times. We bring my brother home—you, me, and Arista—just like we practiced.” “You got it, good girl. Except, with a small change of plans, you will go now,” she said. “Now?” Belle asked, looking imploringly at her brother. “Now,” he said, standing up and sighing resolutely.

“CLIMB UP ON your bed. We’re all right here,” Thomas encouraged. Belle complied and, squirming between the three of them, made her way to the head of the bed. He pulled off her shoes and his own as he slid up beside her. “Are you ready?” Thomas asked, taking her hand. Belle looked first to Arista, then to Vinique, and nodded her head. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Home is only a few minutes away,” Vinique said. “Wait!” Belle said, her gaze fixed on Thomas, “come back to us, you hear? We need you.” Thomas and Arista exchanged a pained look, and Arista turned her head as a single tear fell from her cheek. “I hear you, bossy,” Thomas replied. “I’ll be right behind you. , you’re in charge of bringing me home!” Thomas kissed one cheek, and Arista kissed the other, as Belle smiled. “Everyone ready?” Vinique said, her hands poised on the equipment. Belle gave a thumbs-up and smiled as she lay down. “Ready.” Vinique worked quickly and expertly, performing the release. “It’s done,” she said minutes later. Arista sighed. “She’s home now, and you’re next. Go grab anything you need to take with you, and let’s meet at the designated spot. I’m concerned we may have company.” “Right. I’ll only be a minute,” he said, as he paused to kiss her forehead.

SIMON STOOD IN front of the mirror, taking stock of his injuries. The attack that had nearly left him dead had been one week ago now. The pain had been almost too much to bear. With the constant influx of meds over the last seven days, determining reality from fiction had been impossible. Now, however, able to think and to see more clearly, he could piece together those last few moments of betrayal. He pulled off the bandages for a closer look and reached first for his side, feeling along the rough line of stitches holding his insides together. Thomas had inflicted damage twice, first as he had plunged the knife in and twisted it, then pulling it out. Simon winced. He still had a long road ahead, and the pain was a constant reminder of his failure during the encounter. His hand moved farther down to the hole in his leg. An ugly oozing wound, which concerned the doctors with the possibility of infection. He couldn’t walk without the aid of crutches. Weak now from lack of food and dehydration, the disgust he felt from within was complete. His reflection repulsed him and reminded him that not only had Thomas betrayed him but Terron as well. Simon dressed slowly, pain radiating outward with each muscle movement. His attendants’ repeated offers of assistance were waved away. Instead he dressed in record slow time. Snippets of conversations intruded on the now uncomfortable silence as he reconnected with the outside world. With a briefing scheduled within the hour, Simon reached out telepathically, searching for signs of Thomas. If he was alive, Simon would put together a team to find him. “Thomas,” Simon sneered, “there you are. You made it…and a bonus, Mary Belle. We’re not done yet—not by a long shot.”

VINIQUE LED THE trio, with Thomas and Arista following hand in hand. The map with the location of the portal had been hand-etched, presumably by Whisterly. Thomas trusted the two women implicitly, but his trust had nothing to do really with the fact that he could be moments away from death. If the portal worked—and that was a big if, contingent on all factors coming together perfectly—he could still be obliterated in the transfer process. He was on the wrong end of a bet—a bluff—being forced now to show his hand. Vinique stopped just beyond a small grove of trees with a cliff only a short distance ahead. “This is it,” she said, looking up from the map and pointing to the open space in front of them. “Ah, perfect, just perfect,” Thomas said, turning away in dread. “It looks like something from a bad dream.” “Let’s get started,” Arista insisted. “We should feel Belle on the other side. Without her pull, we won’t complete the circle and none of this matters. Grab hands. Let’s build our web and hide our tracks.” Vinique spoke first, the contented smile on her face providing the evidence of success. “I feel her. She’s there. Way to go, Belle.” The three clasped hands, touching foreheads as their consciousnesses merged. Arista felt the link solidify and set to work. Here we go, everyone. I will keep speaking as long as I can. Thomas felt invaded as portions of him came to life that he never knew existed. “What’s happening?” he said out loud, the concern evident in his voice. “It’s working,” Arista responded. “I feel it.” The trees behind them came alive, and the wind picked up, swirling the leaves around their faces as tree limbs bent, heavy with the unknown force. The momentum increased, and ahead, surrounding the center of the disturbance, a void formed. Thomas communicated wordlessly as panic took over. I’m having second thoughts. Can’t I just stay here with you?

Arista reached for him then, pulling him close. You’re almost there. You feel it? Let yourself go. I do feel it. I do, he responded. Locked in an embrace, he found her lips and tasted her tears as they kissed. Her arms reached around his neck, and her legs encircled his waist as their bodies rotated, led forward by the power of the wind, him effortlessly carrying her weight. Vinique’s hands rested on both of them. I feel you, in my head and in my body. How can that be? he communicated. This bond is like no other, she replied. We are one, and we always will be. A part of me is now permanently a part of you, she explained. It’s almost time. Step into the space ahead. Time stood still as they shared one life force, locked in space. You did it, Stephen. You healed our race, she said silently, finally sharing the news during their last moment together that she had kept hidden from him. Thomas searched her face as he comprehended what had been accomplished. I did? Arista nodded. She experienced his exhilaration at the news as it ed through him to her, and pure joy flowed through them both. I did it! We did it! Now! Vinique yelled, pulling the two apart. Their hands were still ed, clinging together. “I’m never letting you go,” Arista said, as the distance between them grew. “You better not.” Thomas reached down and kissed Arista’s fingers as they slipped away. Then Vinique jerked her loose, the force throwing them both on their backs. When they looked up, the rupture closed, and he was gone. The two of them stared at the emptiness in front of them in shock.

“We did it,” Vinique said. “We’ve accomplished an incredible feat, if I do say so myself.” Arista shook her head in disbelief, staring at the spot where Stephen and she had just stood as one. “A piece of my heart has gone through that ageway with Stephen, and, if he never returns, it will be lost forever.” “A few more seconds and we would have lost you both,” Vinique added. Arista bowed her head. “A few more seconds and I wouldn’t have cared.”

BELLE SLID DOWN from her bed, careful not to wake her ma, and ran down the hall to her brother’s room. His leather jacket hung from the bedpost. She smiled triumphantly and pulled it on, the arms swallowing her small frame, and it sagged a little as she adjusted to its weight. She reached in her own pocket and pulled out her half of the rock she had given Thomas as a gift before he had been sick. “That’s it. That’s what I need,” she said, smiling with confidence and stowing her treasure again. As she plodded through the silent house, she hushed Shep, eager for attention, following along behind her. Outside in the morning air, Belle found the trail leading to the creek and followed its path. She climbed steadily, searching telepathically for Arista, Vinique, and her brother. “It worked. I feel you,” she said, communicating her presence to them all. “Ready or not, here I go.”

ELIZABETH WAS STARTLED awake. It had been her turn to sleep overnight with her daughter, and something had woken her early. She greeted her daughter as she did every morning. “Belle, dear, how are you?” Elizabeth rifled through the empty bed, pulling up sheets and throwing aside blankets, looking for Belle, then ran down the steps, waking Mary along the way. “James. James,” she said more insistently, shaking him. “She’s gone. Belle is gone. I’ve gone through the house. Where could she be?” she asked, her tone frantic. “What? She’s awake?” Grabbing Elizabeth, James hugged her tightly, then spun her around the room. “She couldn’t have gone far. I’ll go find her,” he said, as he hopped on one foot, pulling on his pants. He ran out the door shortly thereafter. Mary and Elizabeth followed, close on his heels. “Hey, Shep. Did Belle let you out? Take me to her, boy. Let’s go.” James moved quickly off the porch and scanned the horizon. “Liz, quiet… Listen… Do you hear what I hear?” The noise grew louder by the second. A child’s laughter could be heard in the distance, coupled with the sound of running feet, like someone being chased. “C’mon. She’s close.” The three exchanged a silent, hopeful glance, then ran around the corner in unison, coming face-to-face with Belle. “Belle, it’s you! Talk to me, sweetheart,” Elizabeth begged. “You’re outta breath,” James said, as a frown furrowed his brow. “So glad you’re feeling better,” Mary added, all three now speaking at once. “A course I’m running. He’s chasing me,” she said, giggling, looking over her shoulder. “Who’s chasing you?” James said, the lines on his forehead deepening, as he became more concerned. “Thomas, silly. Who’d you think?” Belle answered.

James looked wide-eyed in the distance, following the path Belle had taken, his mouth opening to speak, but the words died on his lips. Instead he fell to his knees, raising his hands in silent prayer as he saw his son coming toward him. “He’s home,” Elizabeth screamed, reaching down to her husband, who enveloped her in a giant hug. Her eyes filled with tears, and she choked, whispering to her husband, “I’d almost lost hope.” Mary ran to meet him, and Thomas pulled her into his arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.” “That…will take a while to explain,” Thomas said. “You best get started then,” James replied, turning to face his son, his gaze falling to rest on the braces attached to his legs. “We sure have missed you,” he said, as he paused, coughing and clearing his throat. James moved in closer, and his penetrating stare focused on his son. Neither looked away. Thomas met him head-on, not wavering. James desperately searched for answers as he combed the face he thought he knew so well. “Son,” he said, as he grasped Thomas’s shoulders, his voice quivering, “you’ve changed. I can see it in you. A man’s eyes don’t lie.” “Pa, I…I don’t know what to say.” “You’re home, son, and that’s all that matters. We’ll work through the rest.” “You know, you were with me when I was gone. Well, sort of.” He chuckled. “I tricked myself into believing you were.” Thomas’s fingers rustled in his pants pocket; he closed them around the object, then pulled it out, exposing the com in his palm. Elizabeth gasped. Transfixed, James stared at the gift that instantly took him back to that special day—that wonderful day—followed by the awful time in the hospital. He blinked, then focused back on his son. “Pa,” Thomas began, “this com kept me anchored…when I wasn’t sure if I’d make it home.” Thomas leveled his gaze at his father. “It made it seem like you were with me somehow… Sounds silly, I know,” he said, with a nod of his

head. “No, no, it doesn’t. Not at all, son,” James said, his voice shaking. “We’ve had an adventure,” Belle said, poking her face in, as she hugged Thomas’s waist. He picked her up, and Belle’s arms squeezed him hard. “This is one amazing little lady,” Thomas said, turning to his little sister, who beamed from the attention. “Let’s go inside. You all need to sit down for this.” They entered the house as the radio sparked to life. “And in national news… government officials report isolated sightings of UFOs, coming in to us since early July. The US Air Force confirmed reports of a surveillance balloon crashing near Roswell, New Mexico, which began the rumors of an extraterrestrial spaceship. Even amid growing concerns, experts state there is no cause for alarm, and they continue to maintain there is no such thing as a flying saucer.” Thomas and Belle exchanged a knowing glance. Elizabeth surveyed their silent communication. “All right, you two, spill it,” she demanded. “Ma, Pa, can this wait a few more minutes? I’ve been envisioning the motorcycle out in the barn for weeks, hoping for another ride. It won’t take long.” James looked at his wife, her face covered with tears, then saw the wistful look on his son’s face. He nodded silently to her as he grasped her hand. “Go, son. We’ll be here.” “Thanks, Pa, Ma,” Thomas said, adding, “I won’t be long.” He rose and left with a loud clatter that echoed through the house. The screen door banged shut behind him.

STEPHEN, ARE YOU there? I’m here, Arista. Come on a ride with me. You’ll love it. Thomas cleared the Harley from the barn. He paused just outside the door, grinning from ear to ear. This is incredible. I can feel you in my head. It’s like you’re here with me. I am there with you. When do we start? I can’t wait! Now. The engine roared to life with a rumble, and Thomas let out the throttle. There’s nothing else like this. You feel it? It’s amazing. Where are we going? Thomas tilted his head back and laughed, invigorated as the air rushed ed him. Hold on tight. You’ll see. You’re the one going on a trip this time.

My mother who has been my mentor, my most ardent fan and believed in me every step of the way, my husband who loves and s me in all things, and my sisters and children. They have all been with me through every stage of the incredible journey of crafting this book, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Denise Barker—Thank you for your dedication to your craft. You do amazing work!

BHC Press—Thanks to the team at BHC Press! You are a joy to work with in making Remeon’s Destiny a reality.

I had so much fun creating this world, and I hope you enjoyed Remeon’s Destiny as much as I did writing it.

I would love to hear from you! Please consider leaving a book review at your favorite site, or feel free to drop me a note at my website at: www.jwgarrett.com.

Until next time, J.W. Garrett

J.W. Garrett has been writing in one form or another since she was a teenager. She currently lives in Florida with her family, but loves the mountains of Virginia where she was born. Her writings include poetry, short stories, and since putting the final touches on her young adult fantasy novel, she has been hard at work on a sequel. When she’s not hanging out with her characters, her favorite activities are reading, running and spending time with family.

Visit the author at: www.jwgarrett.com and www.bhress.com