Boy Gone

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  Now sitting close together on Brianna’s couch, they finally could talk in low tones to one another without Scotty overhearing their conversation.

  “My take is that there may have been some kind of trauma. And, of course there was. Abducted at such a young age, it’s hard to imagine what he went through,” Alison said.

  “Well, it was hard on all of us. It literally tore our family apart. I lost a husband along the way. Scotty’s brother and little sister never fully got over it. None of us are exactly close. And now, all of a sudden, he’s here in my living room, playing with a fucking dog that couldn’t possibly be still alive,” Brianna said staring hard at Alison. “So, what else aren’t you telling me?”

  Alison pondered the question, mentally replaying Scotty’s kooky reference to being abducted by aliens. Going so far as to say he had dual genetic profiles—both Human and alien. But again, he did, in fact, have some genetic anomalies she’d never heard of before. Nor had Dr. Patel, for that matter. And then there was the whole handcuff thing. Alison put a hand on Brianna’s knee and spoke quietly: “I know this is a lot to take in. Part of you still doubts your son is even here, that it’s really him, right?”

  Brianna’s eyes, leveled on Scotty, nodded in assent.

  “I have to tell you, I’ve had my doubts as well,” Alison said, “To be perfectly honest, I’m not supposed to be involved with Scotty’s case anymore. At this point, I am supposed to hand it over to local authorities. The FBI’s primary charter is to catch criminals. Build cases strong enough to deliver to federal prosecutors. Since your son’s initial disappearance was attributed to him being washed out to sea, there never were any subsequent abduction searches; no big manhunt for a kidnapper. My boss wants nothing more to do with this case. Maybe there are liability issues. Or maybe the FBI dropped the investigation too early. I don’t know.”

  “I never thought Scotty was swept out to sea,” Brianna said, scowling. “That was an idiotic premise. I conveyed that to the authorities at the time. Anyone can see Nantucket’s coastline is fairly calm— it’s not like Malibu, for God’s sake. That’s why, after getting the runaround, first by the FBI all those years ago then by the local police, I hired Tony. A highly recommended ex-cop, he’s a PI out of Boston. And it hasn’t been cheap.” She gestured around at her flat’s shabby surroundings.

  Alison hadn’t noticed until right then that Scotty was no longer playing with the dog. Both dog and Scotty were sitting quietly, staring back at them. Scotty said, “I’m sorry I’ve made this difficult for you, Mom. That I couldn’t contact you until now.”

  Brianna didn’t say anything. She looked angry—anything but conciliatory.

  Scotty turned his attention to Alison. “This is all so much greater than just me. Bigger than the abduction, bigger than anything that has ever happened before on this planet.”

  Alison let out a breath and glanced over at Brianna, thinking Oh boy, here it comes again.

  “I am not crazy. I was never abused. I have had a wonderful, full life. But I always missed you, Mom. I missed Dad, Kyle, and Sara … missed you all, terribly.”

  “Just tell me where you’ve been! Enough is enough, okay?” his mother said flatly.

  Scotty gazed back at her apologetically, “You’re not going to believe me until I show you exactly who … what … I am.”

  “Okay … then show me.”

  Scotty closed his eyes. Breathing deeply in and out several times, the corners of his lips rose in the beginnings of a smile. And suddenly—he was gone!

  Both Brianna and Alison continued to stare at the chair he’d been sitting in only a moment before. Alison swallowed hard as Brianna’s eyes opened as wide as dessert plates.

  “I see him!” Alison exclaimed, now leaning forward. “He’s there … a faint bluish glow. Can you see him?”

  Brianna nodded. All color gone from her face, she looked as though she might faint. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.”

  “I am still here; haven’t gone anywhere.”

  They watched as a near-transparent hand reached out to scratch the top of Larry’s head. The dog licked at a face that was nearly impossible to see.

  Chapter 22

  As the Flight Director, at the LBJ Mission Control Center in Houston, Texas, all eyes were on Paul Mannford. All those within the NASA organization were certainly looking to him, but also the general public around the world due to the ever-expanding media coverage mounting by the minute. Mannford wondered if he would forever be defined as the flight director who lost the International Space Station, along with its three-man crew.

  Acting NASA Administrator Gordon Borkner had arrived via a private government G6 jet late the previous evening. Mannford noticed the stout little man entering the MCC, with his two-man Secret Service detail, several minutes earlier. Why, he wondered, does he need a protection detail? Do most folks even know who the guy is? Currently making his way around the control center, Borkner was frequently stopping to shake hands—giving pats on shoulders—letting everyone know that he was their friend, that he had their backs. Little did the staff know he was the same government official who’d repeatedly come up short, acquiring the necessary budget dollars for a growing number of them to keep their jobs past the end of the current year.

  Mannford did his best to ignore Borkner’s disruption. Standing where he usually stood, near the back of the room, where he could best monitor overall operations—the ginormous six display screens at the front of the room—and his team of certified flight controllers. Each was tasked with a specific discipline for the vehicle—what the ISS typically was referred to by internal NASA personnel. Every console was manned; some there hadn’t slept in days.

  Mannford scanned his departmentalized teams, including planning, electrical power, thermal control, trajectory, and CapCom. The latter, a leftover term used when there were capsule communications, was the sole communications person responsible for connecting MCC to the vehicle. Wearing headsets, they sat in front of multiple monitors. Mannford refocused his attention toward the series of giant displays, located at the front of the MCC. Typically, there would be several internal vehicle feeds—say, a particular wide view of a module—also several overall external feeds, viewing the space station from various mounted camera angles. Another feed provided a ground-track map, showing the position of the vehicle in orbit. Another could show a space walk, then in progress—or an astronaut, speaking directly with one of the individual MCC department controllers. None of those feeds were active now. Instead, Mannford directed some of the team to provide live feeds from a Space X Rocket, now being prepped at the LLC—Launch Control Center—NASA’s Kennedy Space Center, pictured on Merritt Island, Florida.

  Borkner was about halfway through his meet and greets. Take your time, Mannford thought, leaning against the back wall and staring blankly forward.

  “Hey—just breathe, Paul. We’ll take it one day at a time. Okay?” Mannford, turning, found Margaret Haskell, the CapCom’s controller, standing on his right. She offered him a still-steaming mug of coffee; his fourth one this morning. He took it from her, reciprocating back her warm smile. They’d been friends for over ten years; had experienced numerous harrowing times—but nothing quite like this one. Margaret was on duty as the CapComs controller—actually talking to Fischer—when their coms failed. When the vehicle, ISS, pretty much ceased to exist.

  “I know what you’re up to,” he said.

  Margaret feigned an innocent look, both glancing over at her empty chair, which Administrator Borkner was just then passing by. “I’m sorry, but he’s such a tool,” she said.

  Mannford chuckled, but didn’t comment.

  “You know why he’s here—to have you officially make a statement. To finally call it,” she said, keeping her emotions in check.

  “It’s time. Best for the crew’s family members, best for NASA personnel … and best for the world, I guess,” he said.

  Margaret nodded. “I had dinne
r with Jan Landon and her kids last night, over at the Marriot. She’s pretty wrecked. Tries to put on a good face for the kids but they know something is up with their daddy … something terrible.” She leaned against the back wall alongside Mannford, her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s so damn quiet in here.”

  Mannford simply nodded. And then each giant screen at the front of the room went black. Everyone present stopped what they were doing, their eyes focused on the blank displays. Mannford, now standing upright, took a step forward.

  Character by character, a single line of text scrolled across all six front displays, as well as the individual console monitors.

  INCOMING ISS COMMUNICATIONS PACKAGE IMMINENT …

  No one spoke. No one moved … except Administrator Borkner. Hurrying by the row of consoles, he emerged out at the far end. He then scurried down the side of the room and, within fifteen seconds, stood beside Mannford and Margaret.

  “What the hell is that?” he asked, clearly angry.

  Mannford and Margaret exchanged another quick glance. Mannford could understand hearing surprise, or even cautious hope—but anger?

  Borkner stared at the screens. Hands on hips, he turned to Mannford, his rosacea cheeks radiating like two red suns. “Someone’s messing with our coms in here. Obviously, we’ve been hacked. Tell me, Mannford, how on Earth can this kind of shit happen within your own MCC?”

  Before he could answer, Margaret, her feathers obviously ruffled, said, “No way, Administrator Borkner. What comes in here, that text we see running up on our screens and consoles, came in via a dedicated pathway—telemetry packets, which are highly complex. Basically, we have a locked-down internal loop; one that is funneled into a Level 10 security, a dedicated front-end processor, located in White Sands, New Mexico. And, prior to that, a TDRS receiver/transmitter system, that sends out checksum verified coms packets via an intrusion-locked satellite dish that’s pointed directly into space—to the telemetry, right on the ISS. I can assure you, we’ve not been hacked, sir.”

  Mannford put up a hand, warding off further explanation from Margaret. “Let’s just wait and see what we have going on here. Best you get back to your console, Margaret … just in case.”

  “I don’t need to be lectured by my own people,” the administrator said, obviously still brooding.

  “Quiet, sir. Please! Something’s happening.” Mannford, gesturing ahead, had his eyes locked onto the set of large displays. He heard faint background noises but no sign of visuals. He thought he recognized Commander Landon’s voice. Then the screens flickered on and a video appeared, accompanied with sound. The three ISS crewmen were standing close together, apparently dressed only in their temperature-controlled undergarments.

  Mission Control exploded with unbridled excitement. Cheers and laughs and even sounds of crying filled the room.

  Administrator Borkner, thrusting both arms into the air, shouted, “Quiet down, everyone!” He continued glowering at the startled NASA employees until all center noise became hushed. He stared at the displays. “Can you hear me, Commander?” Borkner yelled.”

  “Hold on, sir … let me get you a headset,” Margaret said, back at her station.

  “I can hear you sir,” Landon said. Both Fischer and Mirkin, who seemed bemused, gave back corresponding thumbs-up gestures.

  Mannford looked over to the telemetry console, at Jerry Krupt, working that desk. Krupt shook his head then gave a shrug. The ground-track map was on display; gave no indication of the ISS’s presence. It didn’t make sense.

  Speaking into his integrated headset mic, he said, “Margaret, give me an exclusive channel. Too much cross-talk going on.” Mannford saw her nod, even though her back was to him.

  “Commander Landon, let me be the first to say welcome back. Over”

  “Roger that, and thank you, sir. Over,” Landon said.

  “Ask him where the fuck they are now; where they’ve been, for God’s sake,” Borkner fumed through clenched teeth.

  The flight crew must have heard him, because both Fischer and Mirkin laughed out loud.

  “It’s a fair question,” Mannford said. “We have zero telemetry on the vehicle. Please bring us up to speed. Over.”

  On display, Landon glanced at his fellow crewmembers, whose expressions were now serious. “Sir, I suggest you limit our transmission protocols to MCC only.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Borkner said.

  Mannford heard Margaret’s voice in his ear. “We’re closed down to the outside world, Paul. Whatever they’re about to reveal is for our eyes and ears only.”

  “Go ahead, Commander. Speak freely. Over.”

  The silence permeating the room was total enough to hear a pin drop.

  “Sir … we, the ISS, have been taken aboard another ship. One you do not have the technology yet to detect. We are well above Earth’s orbit. The vehicle is pretty much in one piece; stored within the confines of this … um … alien ship.”

  “Did he just say alien ship?” Borkner asked, staring up at Mannford.

  Chapter 23

  Scotty watched their expressions—amazed and perplexed—appear on both Alison’s and his mother’s faces.

  Alison was the first to speak. “I see him!” Alison exclaimed, now leaning forward. “He’s there … a faint bluish glow. Can you see him?”

  “I am still here; haven’t gone anywhere,” Scotty said, giving Larry another scratch atop his head. He noticed that while Alison now looked immensely fascinated, his mother had become scared. This was all much too much for her, of course. In only an hour she had been reunited with someone claiming to be her long lost son; then told he’d been abducted by aliens sixteen years ago; and now watched him perform an impression of the invisible man. She looked like she was going to be sick. “I’m sorry … hold on and I’ll turn back … ”

  Before Scotty could get the words out, she was up off the couch, holding a hand to her mouth, and running for the bathroom. A moment later, he heard her throwing up into the toilet. Closing his eyes, he calmed his psyche then altered his genome back into a physical Human form.

  “So, this really isn’t some kind of David Copperfield shit … a trick of some kind?”

  “I don’t know who David Copperfield is, but no, not a trick. Alison, I’m sorry if this is startling … freaking you out.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. So it’s true, you really were abducted sixteen years ago?”

  “Then why have you aged and the dog hasn’t?” his mother asked from the bathroom doorway, using a pink hand towel to wipe the corners of her mouth.

  Even now, it seemed, Brianna didn’t believe him. Believe her own eyes that something beyond any rational explanation had indeed occurred. Scotty was well aware she still hadn’t rushed to the phone to let his father, or Kyle, or Sara know yet of his return. Even recognizing the birthmark on his toe hadn’t convinced her, something he personally had long forgotten about. Looking at her now he saw her anger. Sixteen years of pent up pain and frustration—the only person who never gave up hope; believing in her heart he was still alive. She had financially sacrificed. Ultimately lost almost everything in her selfless pursuit to find him. And now, after all the years of struggle were vindicated, she was incapable of letting her insecurities go. At this point in her life, they’d become a part of her—defined whom she had become.

  “What I’m going to tell you will sound … unbelievable.”

  “I think we’re a tad beyond that, Scotty,” Alison said.

  “Larry and I were both abducted off the beach by an alien rover ship, down by the water’s edge in front of our beach house. That was the last time I saw Larry until I returned a few days ago. Larry has not aged because he was put into a form of long-term storage. I’m not really sure why he was returned along with me. That wasn’t part of the plan, as far as I knew.”

  “You’re saying all this was part of some grand alien plan?” his mother asked, taking her seat next to Alison again.r />
  “The alien beings that abducted me are called Vallic. A highly advanced race, their planetary system is light years from Earth. You need to understand that space travel—intergalactic space travel—is commonplace among advanced races within the cosmos. Vast space is ever changing, often violent. Earth has been struck by meteorites a number of times over its relatively young existence, often with devastating repercussions. Twenty-five years ago, the Vallic became aware of what they referred to as a definitive causation. An approaching end-of-life scenario for a less advanced species—those who have not yet traveled and propagated to other worlds … I’m referring to Earth Humans.”

  “So, these Vallic, they’re what? Like Greenpeace? They go around helping endangered species?” Alison asked skeptically.

  “In the case of Earth, that’s pretty much right.”

  “So what is the … what did you call it, the definitive causation that’s going to happen to Earth? How does that involve you?” his mother asked. “And why you? Why did they take my nine-year-old little boy?”

  “For a while I thought it was purely coincidental, that I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Later, I learned that was not the case at all. Specific Humans had been observed and targeted. The Vallic’s intention was to find Human individuals they could work with; those that had the right mindset that could be … I guess the word is transformed. To eventually possess dual genetic dispositions. Something Vallic scientists were still perfecting at the time we were taken. The Vallic, once almost Human-like themselves, had evolved over eons of time, becoming instead an energetic form of matter. Like what you witnessed earlier with me. That form is now my alternate, non-original, genetic state. Possessing dual genetic states, both Human and Vallic, was a recent breakthrough. One that would be necessary to save us; to save us all.”