Ally Oop Through the Ulysses Trees

by Lenny Everson

  "Hello?" The middle-aged man who came to the door seemed a bit nervous. Lester couldn't blame him, considering the relative isolation of the cottage, even this close to town. He could see another man in the background.

  Lester flashed them a too-quick look at a card in his wallet. "We hate to ask this, but could we come in for a couple of hours to watch the cottage next door?" He waved in the general direction of Laura's cottage.

  "Come in. Can we get you some chamomile tea?"

  "Thanks." Lester and Sammy walked to the one window that looked at the cottage next door.

  "I'm Jim," the man not getting tea said, "and the other guy's my brother Jack."

  "Stephen," Lester said, "and this is my co-worker, Steve."

  "Stephen and Steve," Jim noted. "I see." Jack returned with plastic cups, a teabag string hanging from each. "Do you think Laura's up to something?"

  "Laura. Yes. No. We have a report of illegal aliens here. We're from immigration Canada."

  "Illegal aliens. Who would smuggle illegal aliens into Brighton?"

  Lester paused to drink some very hot tea, and to think. "Cambodians. They get into Canada and pay someone to take them across the lake at night."

  "Wouldn't that be for American Immigration to worry about?"

  "We cooperate." He caught Sammy's gesture. "Someone's coming to the cottage." Have you seen anything suspicious lately?"

  "Cambodians must be very sneaky people," Jack said. "We haven't noticed anything."

  "No boats on the lake? Nothing strange out there?"

  "Some boat going back and forth in the day, last week. I hear they're planning on putting a wind farm there. No strange lights at night, other than UFOs landing out there." Jack smiled.

  "Right. Do you know those guys?"

  Jim turned out the light in the room and peeked through the curtain. "Never seen either of them before in my life." Jack disappeared into another room.

  Lester and Sammy drank the tea and watched the two guys next door. Getting no answer from Laura's cottage door, the two strangers sat on the picnic table, doing nothing much.

  "I can go into town and get something to eat," Sammy said, abruptly. "I haven't had supper yet."

  "They got any take-out in town?"

  "We passed a pizza place on the highway the other side of town."

  "SquareBoy Pizza," Jim said. "They're good."

  "I don't suppose they deliver?"

  Jack shook his head. "Not out here. You'll have to go get it."

  "Well," said Lester, "if you wouldn't mind, we could get enough for all of us."

  "Pepperoni, extra cheese, and ham," Jim said.

  "We'll be back in 45 minutes," Lester said.

  As they drove away, Sammy said, "One of us could have stayed there."

  Lester shook his head. We stay together on this one."

  "Christ," Sammy said. "Cambodians."

  "I didn't see you coming up with anything better."

  "Are you sure we should come back? They might have called the police by now."

  "Let's hope not."

  ****

  Brighton

  Downtown and Along Popham Bay

  Day after Button Day

  Clyde Books found a parking spot in downtown Brighton, across from the post office. He tucked a large envelope under his arm and went up the post-office steps. The doors were open, but the post office consisted only of walls of postal boxes with numbers on them. Clyde had suspected this would be the case – Canada Post had long since quit staffing such little places.

  Arranging his most puzzled look on his face, he went out to the steps and waited until someone came up the steps. Luckily, the first person he met was a geezer. He liked geezers; they were innately suspicious of everything and everybody, but would unhesitatingly tell you all they knew once they got going.

  “Problems?” the geezer said, suspiciously, eyeing the stranger’s suit and the ID label that hung from Books’ pocket. It read, in letters big enough for an old guy, “Bogart, Meinstein, and Lucy, Law Office." The “Bogart” was so that the old guy could have something false to remember.

  Books held up the envelope. “I have a legal package to deliver to the Daniels brothers, but I couldn’t get the address, other than ‘Brighton’." He managed to look even more worried. “The sale of a house owned by a cousin of theirs has closed, and I need a signature from Jim.”

  The geezer thought a bit. “Don’t know any Daniels in this town, but there’s been a lot of new people in the last few years.”

  “Oh, they’re not local people. They own a cottage somewhere out by the park. Owned it for a long time. That’s all I know.” Books continued staring at the envelope, waiting.

  “Well, there’s some cottages in the park, and there’s a few along the roads facing Popham Bay. Might be there. Ask folks down that way.” He pointed. "Go that way, turn left onto Ontario Street.” He continued with detailed instructions for getting to Presqu’ile Park, although the route was clearly marked with signs all the way. Books was surprised the guy didn’t tell him to “turn left where the old pine used to be.”

  On Ontario Street, Books found the Cole's TIM-BR Mart lumber store. The guy running the paint section knew the Daniels’ place and gave him specific instructions. As soon as Books left, Carl phoned the Daniels and told them about the guy that was looking for them. Carl didn’t know the Daniels very well, but he wasn’t fond of lawyers since his divorce.

  Books found the place easily enough, and drove past without slowing down. A silver Camry was in the lane, with a blue Cobalt parked behind it. After ten minutes, Books came by again, heading back towards Brighton without knowing quite what to do. He figured it wasn’t like aliens to get company, so the Malibu confused him. Then he shook his head; who knew what aliens really did on this planet? Maybe they had barbecue parties every weekend with other aliens, or maybe they joined quilting groups.

  He was halfway back to Brighton, just passing the Lake Iroquois Nursery (and considering getting a few tulip bulbs to plant for spring) when he spotted a bearded guy on the other side of the road, hitchhiking. What the heck, he thought, and did a U-turn a bit farther up.

  The bearded guy introduced himself. “I’m Tom,” he said. “Trying to find a cottage my niece is staying in. It’s along the shore of the bay, which I’m told is down this way somewhere.”

  Clyde shook the offered hand. “I’m Pete,” he said. “I’m not from here, but I think I know the place you mean.” He consulted a map, then started driving again.

  After a couple of minutes, Tom said, “You from the government? Checking up on me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good. Didn’t think you were, but I’ve been off my meds for a day and sooner or later I’ll get thinking everyone is out to get me.”

  “Okay. How long does it take, and do you usually kill anybody?”

  “Nah. Completely harmless when I’m me, but I rant a lot.” Tom took a couple of wrapped rice-crispie squares and offered one to Clyde. “Got hooked on these when I was taking all those pills; eases the stomach a bit.”

  Clyde unwrapped his while driving. As he turned onto Lakeshore, he asked Tom, “Get to see any space aliens in human form when you’re crazy?”

  Tom turned to him. “You know, the oddest thing is that I met a guy in a park in Toronto who told me he was a space alien controlling a human body. And I was still taking all the pills.” He watched the cottages. “I’m looking for number 11341. That’s where Laura’s staying.”

  Clyde thought about it. “I suppose an alien could always tell his secret to a person who’s supposed to be nutso. Nobody’d believe him anyway.”

  Tom thought a bit. “That could be it. I was wondering if they gave me a bad batch of pills.” He pointed. “That’s the place. I recognize the Jeep.

  Clyde pulled into the driveway, blessing his luck. The cottage was within a slingshot’s stone of the Daniels, separated only by a thin grove of trees and shrubs. “I’ll wait till I�
�m sure you can get in.” He watched Tom knock on the door then walk around the cottage. Eventually, Tom returned to Clyde's car.

  "I'll see if she answers her phone," Tom said. "I can wait at the picnic table till she gets back in any case." He shook his head. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go, anyway."

  "Do you mind if I sit with you for a while? It's nice hearing the waves on the shore."

  "Glad to have the company," Tom said. "I'll see if we can locate the Ulysses trees." Seeing Clyde's puzzled look, he added, "I'll explain while we're sitting."

  "I brought sandwiches," Clyde said.

  "Hey! Good man! Got a beer?"

  Clyde shook his head. "A couple of cans of Pepsi."

  Tom smiled. "Even better, actually."

  They sat at the picnic table, Tom facing the road and Clyde facing the lake. "Good sandwiches," Tom said. "Thanks. I was getting hungry."

  "You were going to tell me about the Ulysses trees, I think?"

  "Oh, yes. I was a university prof at Trent before my head got messed up. Wrote a major work that nobody ever read. It compared the classical Ulysses with Tennyson's version of the guy as an old man and my version of what he must have been like, as a young guy, using psychological tools."

  "Ahhh…"

  "Well Laura – that's my niece; she's renting this cottage – liked it. Or said she did. Got a fan club of one." Tom winked at Clyde. "Anyway, she said there were some trees here that she calls the Ulysses trees." He opened a Pepsi. "Don’t know what she meant by that, though.

  Clyde Books looked around carefully, then pointed. "Maybe those three poplars"

  "You're right! One is young, one is older, and one is getting rather old. But they're in a straight row, spaced evenly apart, and each has a similar kink about a third of the way up."

  "Looks like the same tree at three different stages of life."

  "Good kid, that Laura." Tom finished his sandwich. "Not that I know where she's gone."

  "It's getting late. You'll freeze out here." Clyde was watching the Daniels' cottage. Two men came onto the deck of the cottage. Not the Daniels, Clyde thought. Even in the lowering light he could see that there was more difference in ages between them than the brothers were supposed to have. He watched the two men get into the Cobalt, back out of the driveway, and head towards Brighton. Clyde touched Tom's arm, and pointed.

  Out onto the deck of the Daniels cottage, two men appeared, dragging some gear. Those, thought Clyde, are the Daniels brothers. "The neighbours, I guess," Tom said. "Do you know them?"

  Clyde said nothing. The Daniels brothers walked quickly to the back of their property, flipped over a small aluminum boat with a high bow, and opened a shed. They put oars, and lifejackets into the boat, and attached a rope to the front. Then they began to drag the boat towards the lake. It was slow going, and came to a halt at a mound of gravel that marked the top of the stone beach.

  "Let's go lend a hand," Tom said, getting up. Clyde followed.

  When they got close, the Daniels stood up, faces impassive.

  "We've come to help," Tom said.

  "Why?" Jim looked the two over carefully.

  "Because you look like you're getting ready to run away from something, and that makes me on your side." Tom smiled broadly.

  "I think those guys are from the government," Jack said. "Undercover or something."

  "Paranoid nutcases of the world unite!" Tom laughed.

  "They said they were going to stay in our cottage to watch your place for some woman who was smuggling illegal aliens in from the States."

  "Somehow I can't imagine Laura doing that," Tom said. "But the government's everywhere these days. Let's get this show going; it's time for you guys to blow this popsicle stand before the bad guys get back."

  "Good enough." The brothers pulled the rope as Tom and Clyde manhandled the boat over the high spot, around a couple of driftwood stumps, and down to the edge of the water.

  In the next fifteen minutes, the four of them put a fifteen horsepower Suzuki outboard onto the boat, then threw in bags of cans and dehydrated camp food. Prepared for something, Clyde thought, although the bags looked old. Camping gear went in last, then Tom turned to the brothers. "You have to do something about the car," he said. "Otherwise they'll know you took the boat. If the car's gone, they'll think you drove away."

  Jack shook his head. "You're right," Jack said, but we don't have time. They just went in to town to get some pizza and beer."

  "I can hide it for you," Tom said. "Drive it into town somewhere."

  Jack pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. "Thanks. If you don't see us again, keep the car."

  "I don’t think it'll come to that," Tom said. "When we get back, I'll tape the keys under the picnic table."

  The four of them got the boat into the water, and Clyde and Tom pushed it out into the waves. The motor started at once, like a good Japanese motor should, and was gone quickly, following the shore towards the park.

  "I'll drive their car," Tom said." You can follow, then drive me back. If you would."

  "Sure," Clyde said. "Sure."

  ****

  Brighton

  Along Popham Bay

  Day after Button Day

  It was getting dark when, half an hour later, Sammy and Lester returned. Sammy was driving, and Lester was carrying a box of fried chicken and a bag of chocolate donuts. Their Blue Cobalt came to a stop just outside the Daniels' cottage. Sammy didn't turn into the driveway.

  "They're gone," he said.

  Lester pointed to where the headlights lit Laura's cottage. "The Buick's gone, too," he noted.

  Sammy squinted. Laura's Jeep was still in the driveway, but the white car was no longer in behind it and the cottage was dark. "Now what?"

  Lester grunted. "Pull into the driveway. Let's see if one of the Daniels brothers is still inside." No one answered the front door, but the back door, off the deck, was unlocked. Lester went inside, carefully, while Sammy stayed in the car. He came out after a couple of minutes, and got back into the car. "Nobody home. Let's leave for a while."

  "Sounds like a plan." Sammy drove them back to the marina. They ate in silence in Serenity, Lester poking at the laptop. Eventually, Lester said, "We'll drive back. If there's nobody there, then nobody's called the cops. In that case, we'll set up a base in the cottage and wait till something happens."

  "Can we bring the boat around there?"

  Lester shook his head. "No good place to anchor. Sand and gravel bottom and no shelter if some winds come up. We could get this close to the shore, but the dinghy might have a hard time in the waves."

  Sammy frowned. "I don't really like sitting in someone else's place. How do we explain it if someone calls the cops. Like one of the neighbors, if not the Daniels."

  Lester pointed to the laptop screen. "Someone in the homeland just bumped our priority. We can take a few chances. We'll hang around the cottage and see if Copeman or the Laura chick shows up."

  "Then what?"

  "Then we'll improvise something. Trust me."

  "Cambodian refugees…. Sure."

  The Daniels cottage was still empty, with only the kitchen light on, and the SEALs left it that way as they settled in, Sammy checking the fridge while Lester watched Laura's dark cottage from the bedroom window.

  "Any sign of life over there?" Sammy asked. "I think these guys were vegetarians."

  "Probably explains why they didn't wait for the chicken. Nothing over there, but it's pretty dark out. You want to get the night scope?"

  "Not really, but I will." Sammy went out by the deck, and around behind the cottage. His night vision was good, but he tripped once over a tree branch. As he was getting up, he thought he heard movement in the trees. Probably a deer, he thought. But when he got the night scope, he also brought in the guns and a bag of ammo.

  ****

  Brighton

  From Downtown Brighton

  Day after Button Day (Button Day is the day that th
e aliens pressed the button that started the re-activation of Professor Nothing, their spaceship)

  Laura looked around Jag's place. It was only a bit neater than bachelor standard. A large gray cat came out and watched her.

  "Laura;" said Jag, "meet Hank. Hank; meet Laura."

  "Hank?" asked Laura. The cat turned and walked away.

  "Hank Dayton. Named after a friend lost in battle." Laura nodded. Her phone rang.

  "Laura here."

  "Laura? This is Tom."

  "Tom! Where are you?"

  "Actually, I'm in downtown Brighton, more or less. Do you know how hard it is to find a pay phone nowadays?"

  "Your cell doesn't work?"

  "Some conversations are better kept private, I think. Don't want certain ears listening to them, if you know what I mean."

  A pause. "Tom, are you off your meds again?"

  "As of yesterday, but already people are talking about aliens wherever I go. I didn’t think it was going to happen that quickly. Are you coming back to the cottage tonight?"

  "Not tonight. The long arms of the law have got me. In the morning for sure. Do you know where the cottage is?"

  "Been there already. A guy drove me out and I recognized your car. But I couldn't get in. Interesting neighbors you have there, little cousin."

  "The Daniels brothers. They're okay."

  "They're gone now."

  "Gone? Where?"

  "This other guy and I, we helped them get away into the bay half an hour ago, in a little aluminum boat with a motor. Then I drove their car downtown and parked it in the public lot. By request."

  "They're gone."

  "They are. Are you harboring illegal aliens?"

  "You want to give me the story?"

  Tom did.

  "Okay," Laura said after a moment's thought. "Can you get back to the cottage, or shall we pick you up?"

  "Oh, this guy that gave me a lift, Pete, he can take me back. Hold on." A moment later: "Yeah, he will, but I don't have a key to the place."

  "The bathroom window doesn't lock properly. Wiggle it up and down a few times, and it'll open."

  "Will there be illegal aliens inside?"

  "Very funny. I'll be back in the morning. I'll take you out to lunch. It'll be good to see you again."

  Laura hung up the phone to find Jag bringing a tray with wine and cheese. "My cousin Tom," she said to the unasked question. "He's going to stay at the cottage for a while."