The Slip

by Tom C Willoughby

  He pulled the chute releases as he hit the ground running. Taking a quick reading of the sun’s position, Sam confirmed he was headed in a northwesterly direction and adjusted to a fast-paced jog. The pilot had standard army training and was in good shape physically, so that was working in Sam’s favor. The pilot wore a watch, so he set the timer to two hours which was the amount of time Julia had given him to complete the assignment. He had landed in a forested area which was sparse enough that he could keep up a decent pace.

  Sam would need to blend in with the population soon so he wouldn’t be spotted before he could finish his assignment. Taking stock of his appearance as he was jogging, he noted his standard forest green army uniform and hat. He threw the hat into the forest along with the outer uniform shirt, which left him with a fairly clean “good job Mr. Pilot” white undershirt and green Army pants tucked into Army boots. Stopping briefly, he untucked the pants from the boots and the undershirt from the pants. Now he looked fairly close to a civilian, although would probably still look out of place to anyone who really gave him the once over. He would have to keep his eyes open for an opportunity to get a change of clothes.

  It was warm but not hot, probably in the 70’s if Sam had to guess, and he was beginning to sweat. He had to be conscious not to become a sweaty mess which would also make him stand out. Slowing his jog slightly he pulled out Mr. Pilot’s phone and typed “Nanjemoy” into the map app which indicated he was about five miles away using roads, or what he estimated to be four miles away as the crow flies, or in his case, as the pilot runs.

  The biggest challenge would be to avoid detection by the agents Julia had mentioned. She said they would be looking for someone in pursuit of the sheriff’s daughter. They could potentially keep the daughter completely isolated, but Sam figured once he was in a local host he could get close enough to transition to her. Then he would have her social security number to complete the phone number he needed to call and end the mission. So goal number one was to find the nearest occupied house and go local.

  Sam had done a good job of suppressing the pilot’s alarmed voice up to this point, and now the pilot was calming down a little and trying to figure out what was going on. Soon he would get his bearings and whether he thought he had lost his mind or not, would start feeling for purchase again in his own mind and fight back for control of his body. Sam had not been forcibly dislodged from control of a host since St. Catherine’s Hospital, where both Elizabeth and the angry man had easily wrested back control from him. He now understood the mechanics of taking control, and integrating fully, however, he had not really been challenged by a host with similar knowledge and awareness. If all things were equal, Sam couldn’t be sure who would prevail in an internal battle for control. Regardless, he was hoping to slip into a different host before having to deal with that potential scenario which could stop him from completing the assignment.

  The phone map showed a farm and house about one mile due north mostly in line with his route to Nanjemoy. Maybe he could pick up a car and some clothes there? The pilot seemed to have a good sense of pace, and Sam estimated he would reach the house in eight or nine minutes, which looking at his watch timer, would leave him 112 of the 120 minutes on his timer. Seemed like a lot of time.

  Breaking the tree line near the target house, Sam paused near a barn about 100 yards from the main house. There was a pickup truck near the house. This might mean someone was home, but after watching for a couple minutes Sam did not see any sign of residents.

  He started walking towards the house preparing a lost hiker story along the way, when a man’s voice called out to him as he passed by the open barn doors, “Hello, can I help you?”

  Caught a little off guard, Sam turned toward the barn and spotted the older farmer inside doing something with a couple of horses. “Hopefully, yes. I was out hiking and lost my way. I saw your farm and was hoping to find someone home - would it be possible to use your phone to call a buddy for a pick up?”

  Sam and the farmer had walked toward each other, ending up just inside the barn as the farmer extended his hand. “Sure, I reckon we can work that out. I’m Frank. Everything okay? Just got a little off track?”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m fine except for my pride. I’m Jack. Pleased to meet you,” Sam responded as he shook Frank’s calloused hand, at which point he transferred from the pilot to Frank.

  Almost immediately, the pilot wound up and landed a strong right across Frank’s face, knocking him backward onto his ass minus half his wits.

  As the pilot closed to undoubtedly provide more of the same, Sam grabbed the pilot’s left arm just before his right hand impacted Frank’s face again. “Naughty naughty, Mr. Pilot. I guess I was a little hasty there,” Sam scolded from within Mr. Pilot’s own head again.

  Mr. Pilot replied reflexively, “I don’t know who or what you are, but I’m going to take you down one way or another.” Sam now realized his hosts, at least some of them, or maybe all of them after enough time had elapsed, must also be able to see Sam’s thoughts. This was how the pilot knew Sam had planned to infiltrate Frank and had planned his attack accordingly. Sam tucked that thought away for future investigation.

  “I don’t mean you any harm and do apologize for taking you by surprise.” He walked Mr. Pilot over to the nearby stable enclosure where he grabbed one of the ropes hanging there. After giving it a tug to make sure it was secured, he started tying the loose end around his neck, making sure to put a number of very tightly pulled knots in while still leaving enough slack to breathe. “We are going to have to try this again a little differently this time,” Sam said to the pilot. “A couple tights knots and now back to the farmer,” he said as he walked towards Frank, who was starting to shake it off and sit up.

  When Sam was about two feet from Frank, the rope around his neck went taut and painfully dug into his neck, pulling him a little off balance. “Oh crap,” Sam mumbled as he bent down and was able to just grab hold of Frank’s foot and start pulling Frank’s body towards him.

  When Frank’s face was close enough Sam gave him a couple firm pats to the cheek to bring him to a little more. The instant Sam saw the recognition in Frank’s eyes and the growing surprise he transferred back into Frank and rolled way from Mr. Pilot.

  Sam scrambled up, now in the farmer’s body, and scurried deeper into the stable, making sure to stay out of the the radius of Mr. Pilot’s reach. He quickly located a shovel and walked back to Mr. Pilot who was now asking “What the hell are you going to do with that?”

  “I am hoping that after you untie yourself you will go about your business and find your way back to base, but as extra insurance I need to make sure I have enough time to do what I need to do,” replied Sam.

  The play in the rope allowed Mr. Pilot to maneuver a little and they had to do a little dance taking a couple tries, but Sam eventually connected the shovel with Mr. Pilot’s head and knocked him unconscious.

  Wanting to check his remaining time, Sam thought to grab the pilot’s watch before leaving. He calculated 90 minutes remaining.

  That done, Sam rooted through Frank’s mind a little, and finding what he needed, went to the house to grab the keys to the pickup hanging on a hook in the kitchen.

  Frank had a dog, Grandy, named after his long past grandfather, who Frank would have normally brought with him to town on errands in the back of the pickup. Sam must not have greeted the dog right or moved the same as Frank normally did, because Grandy gave him a low growl and kept a five-foot perimeter from him the whole time he was in the house getting the keys. Grandy seemed to have that super-sense that most dogs have and recognized his master but knew something was wrong. So, no Grandy on this trip to town.

  Sam had driven down the long dirt road and was about to turn onto the main road when he realized he had not thought to take the pilot’s phone. Frank unsurprisingly did not have a mobile phone, not even a flip phone. Frank had the knowledge to get them to town, so he didn’t need the map any longer, howe
ver he would eventually need a phone once he had the number he needed. In the interest of time Sam decided not to go back and continued onto the main road.

  A couple minutes after Sam drove away in the pickup, Mr. Pilot came back to and started working on the knots.

  Sam passed the “Welcome to Nanjemoy” sign promising 300 souls, as he slowed looking for the police station. The town consisted of strips of commercial buildings on both sides of the main road and a square to the east of the main road where Sam could see the post office and assumed he would find the police station.

  Pulling into one of the diagonal spots in the square, Sam immediately realized his folly for leaving the phone. Frank’s internal “database” had a good amount of information on Sheriff Wilkes but not much on the daughter. If he could transfer to the Sheriff presumably he could get ahold of the daughter’s social one way or another.

  Getting out and shutting his door, he heard an echo of his truck door closing and looking up saw the source of the echo three vehicles to his left, where a couple of men were getting out of a car. Stepping past his truck onto the sidewalk, he saw another two men approaching from the right. These did not look like small town folk, and Sam presumed these were the pursuers Julia had mentioned. Frank the local farmer would not be on their watch list, which made Sam thankful he had transferred out of the pilot, who would have looked out-of-place here and might have been on the watch list.

  Frank’s data indicated the police station was in the corner across the square. There was a patch of green with some trees and benches in the middle of the square and he turned to cross through the middle of the square to avoid the men walking on the sidewalk around the perimeter. Turning to cross the street, one of the men called out, “Excuse me, could you help us?”

  If Sam didn’t respond it would be obvious he was ignoring them which might spark curiosity he didn’t want ignited, so he played it cool. “Certainly, what can I do you for?”

  Now within six feet, the smaller of the two reached out his hand and introduced himself, “My name’s Jason and this is Max.”

  Something was off, but Sam couldn’t quite figure out what. Frank had nothing to fear so he just needed to play “Frank small town farmer” and get back to finding the sheriff. Grasping Jason’s hand he said, “Nice to meet you. I’m Frank.”

  From behind him a new voice responded, “Do you own a farm just a little ways down the road from here, Frank?”

  All of Sam’s alarms suddenly went off, and fight or flight chemicals started pouring into Frank’s body, but this body of 65 years was not going to be successful fighting or fleeing from these guys. Jason was not letting go of his hand, so Sam did the only thing he could and transferred into Jason. One of Julia’s guiding principals that he retained was to act quickly and decisively in times of danger.

  Back in control of his own body Frank started trying to explain the situation to the strangers. Upon transfer, Sam instantly understood he/Jason was the senior agent to Max, and so directed Max to cuff Frank and put him in the car.

  Sam could now see, with his view from the inside, that Jason had not been given much direction initially except to protect the sheriff’s daughter from an unknown aggressor, with strict orders not to kill anyone. There was still a lot of room between “not kill” and “kill” which made Sam a little nervous. It also became clear why Frank had been targeted. A call from an Agent to The Farm, had been relayed to Jason and his team, describing a strange series of events including being pushed from a helicopter and then tied up by an elderly farmer named Frank Barrow.

  “Damn that Mr. Pilot,” Sam thought to himself, and to Jason’s self, as he put the pieces together.

  “I’m going to stop in the sheriff’s station and give him the update,” Sam told the others as he started across the square.

  One of Jason’s colleagues angrily directed otherwise, “I’ll talk to the sheriff, Agent Senz, you stay here.”

  “Senz is my last name…the angry guy is Uriah, my superior…ooh and I’m dating his ex-wife. Yikes!” Sam thought to himself as he put the pieces together, “not good Mr. Senz.” Sam could sense some foul language coming his way from Jason, but he was squashing his voice, so he could focus. Looking to check how much time he had remaining, he realized the watch and timer were still on Frank’s arm, now in the agent’s car. It must have been at least 15 minutes since he left Frank’s place, leaving a maximum of 75 minutes on the clock, or at least 60, which still seemed like plenty of time to make his call and complete the assignment.

  Relying on decisiveness again, Sam walked directly up to Uriah, who was watching him with interest. Sam grabbed the sides of Uriah’s face and gave him a big kiss on the lips. Uriah immediately lifted his hands to push Jason away, but Sam had already transferred to Uriah. Jason staggered back, suddenly in control of his own body again.

  Max and the other agent froze in place, their mouths hanging open at the sight of their two senior officers awkwardly kissing.

  Jason called out, “Max, Dean, this is going to sound strange but there is something that just took over my body and is now inside Uriah. We have to subdue Uriah so it doesn’t get away.”

  Sam yelled through Uriah, “Agent Senz, have you lost your fucking mind? Get away from me and go watch the suspect!” Sam needed to take control of the situation and cast doubt on Jason’s state of mind for Max and Dean’s benefit. He didn’t need all three of them trying to take him down.

  “You guys have to believe me on this,” Jason pleaded.

  Max and Dean had frozen in place with the car door open, about to put Frank inside when this madness started. Frank added his support to Jason’s plea, “You boys ought to believe him. Same thing happened to me.”

  The addition of Frank’s corroboration to Jason’s sincerity was somehow enough to make Max and Dean believers. They looked at each other to confirm they were on the same page, finished putting Frank in the car, then joined Jason.

  Sam decided to make a run for it and took two strides before being tackled by Jason and Max. Transferring to Jason again, he put his knee on Uriah’s back to stand up and swiftly elbowed Max, knocking him backwards, and took off running again this time back in Jason’s body. Uriah yelled to get Jason. Max and Dean frowned, blinked and, after recovering from their confusion, took off after Jason now - why would he be running if he wasn’t the quarry. Particularly quick, Max caught up to Jason and got him in a bear hug while Dean circled around to block Jason’s path. Sam transferred to Max and pushed Jason into Dean with his right hand and suddenly felt a handcuff click around his left wrist. Turning he saw Uriah’s right wrist on the other end of the cuffs.

  Uriah barked at Jason and Dean to create a cuff circle, like “cuff circle” was a thing, but they understood and quickly snapped cuffs on each other so all four were cuffed together looking at the center of their circle.

  “Well, now I’ve seen everything,” Sheriff Wilkes said, having been drawn out to see what all the noise was about.

  Wilkes was what you would expect a small town sheriff to look like in a movie: cowboy boots, a full head of salt and pepper hair beneath his hat, a solid six feet, in good shape for his 52 years and chewing a toothpick. “Can you all explain to me what you are doing handcuffed to each other in the middle of my town square?”

  Max said, “We’re CIA, grab my badge from my coat pocket.”

  “No, don’t—” Uriah barked before being silenced by Sam transitioning quickly from Max to Uriah by a quick touch of the man’s hand.

  Sheriff Wilkes frowned and didn’t make a move. The man knew something was up and wanted to keep his distance until he figured it out. “Okay, let’s start with everyone throwing their guns into the middle of your little circle,” Sheriff Wilkes directed.

  Jason suggested, “Two people’s hands on each gun as it is unholstered and tossed. The other two people should be close enough to grab the gun if something looks wrong.”

  Sam definitely did not want anyone getting hurt, so he
stayed in Uriah but did just as Jason directed.

  In short order all the guns were on the ground and the men tried to explain to the Sheriff the pending threat to his daughter and the unique nature of the suspect. The one thing they couldn’t agree on was where the suspect was now. Suspicious looks between them created a comedic effect that didn’t help a bit.

  “That is quite a story, gentlemen, and if I was to believe you for a moment what would you suggest that I do in order to contain the, uh, interloper that you have restrained in your circle?” asked the Sheriff.

  Jason said, “it seems to travel from person to person by touch, so until we can figure out a better plan you need to lock us in your holding cell to keep other people away from us.”

  “Good idea, Jason,” Sam in Uriah said, “if your holding cell is free, Sheriff, that would be very helpful.”

  “Well, you boys are in luck, the jail is empty so follow me.”

  Sam started to get a little nervous now, as he was somewhat snared, and without the pilot’s watch wasn’t sure how much time he had left. He estimated it had been at least another 15 minutes since his last guess of 60 minutes, so maybe he was down to 45 minutes? At this point, Sam just wanted to be done with this assignment and he was starting to run out of ideas. He had tried a couple surprise bolts to transfer to the sheriff, but the cuff circle was proving effective at stopping him short. He was going to have to come up with something new or fail his test.

  The sheriff had gone ahead of the circle to get the cell door open and then moved to the far corner of the office and called for the circle to come on in. The jail cell, similar to the sheriff himself, seemed like a stereotype of what you would expect to see in a movie - thick metal bars locked with a large metal key the sheriff had on a big circular ring in his hand. When Sam saw this, he had an idea.