When Douglas opened the door and stepped onto the porch, Buddy Johnson was standing by his truck.
“Things good here?” Johnson asked.
“Couldn’t be better,” Douglas said, finding it hard to keep a grin off his face.
“Just reportin’ in. You said no phone calls.”
“Yep, no phone calls. You can’t trust the Feds these days from tapping the phones. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had one of them highfalutin, supercomputers scanning every phone call and text message in this area.”
“Well, it’s just like you said. Just a bunch of chaos. People runnin’ round like chickens with their heads cut off.”
“They got any leads?”
“No. In fact, I heard one of them FBI agents say just that when he was talkin’ on the phone. Sounded like he was reportin’ to his boss.”
Douglas smiled big enough to show his bottom teeth. “You do some good work there, Buddy.”
The janitor grinned shyly and looked at the ground. “It was nothing. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time to get the lowdown on where to go.” He returned his gaze back up to Douglas. “So, how’s the money crop doin’?”
“Still sleeping it off when I took a peek this morning. The other one was up and watching TV.”
“The one yesterday was a fighter. After I knocked her out and dragged her through the woods to the truck, I gave her three pills instead of two. Didn’t want no commotion on the ride over.”
“She’ll be fine. When you’re young you can get back on your feet pretty quick.”
“Well, I best be goin’ now,” Buddy said and then pulled the truck’s door open. “Told them I had a sore back and was going to the clinic for some medicine. Cafeteria’s servin’ up sloppy Joes. I don’t wanna miss out. I sure do love me some sloppy Joes.”
“Eh, after we get paid, you’ll turn your nose up at ground meat. You’ll be eating steak every day of the week.”
“I don’t know about that. Money ain’t gonna change me very much. Fact is, I plan on savin’ it so’s I can retire at sixty-two instead of waiting until I’m sixty-five.”
“Heck, we might be able to make a few investments off the grid that might give us enough returns so you can retire when you’re fifty. Stick with ol’ Dougie, you know I won’t steer you in the wrong direction,” Douglas said and winked his left eye.
“We’ll see. Gotta go.” Buddy closed the door and started the truck. After a quick wave, he looked in the rearview mirror and backed up, leaving down the driveway.
“Yeah, ol’ Dougie won’t steer you wrong,” Douglas said to himself. “Go get some of them sloppy Joes and be ready to take orders the next time I need you.”
He was well aware that Buddy wasn’t in this for the money. If the janitor had been, Douglas wouldn’t have trusted him from the get-go. The poor man was starved for attention. Didn’t have a friend in the world until Douglas stumbled upon him at that bar.
And, Douglas didn’t mind sharing the money with him. Because, he knew that it wouldn’t take much to manipulate the janitor out of it if he so desired.
But one thing at a time. Cash-in tomorrow and let some time pass. Pick out a vacation spot and get Buddy to watch things on the farm for a week or ten days. Stop and smell the roses along the way. Life was to be enjoyed.
Looking at the clock, he thought it might be a bit early for a glass of whiskey. But, it did seem time for a celebration. “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he said and headed back inside the house.
*
Charlotte awoke and heard the TV playing. For a moment she thought she had fallen asleep on the couch in her living room. As her mind cleared, she realized that she wasn’t on her couch. She was in bed, but it wasn’t her bed.
A single overhead light bulb, no fixture, cast dim light about the room. She pushed herself up on her elbows and gasped when she saw a young boy sitting on the floor and watching TV.
He turned, and said, “Oh, hey. You’re awake.”
Pulling the sheet up to her neck, Charlotte realized she was fully clothed, with only her shoes missing. Her mouth was dry as cotton. “Where am I? Who are you?”
The boy sat on a blanket on the floor, and he had a pillow in his lap. “I don’t know where we are, but we get the same local news like back in Camden County. So I don’t think we’re far from there.” He turned his head to the side. “What’s your name?”
She licked her lips, and said, “Charlotte…Charlotte Meadows. Say, do you have anything to drink? I’m so thirsty.”
“Sure,” the boy stood and walked over to a mini-refrigerator. “You want water or soda?” he asked while pulling the door open.
“Water.”
He picked out a bottle and brought it to her, twisting off the top before handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, bringing the liquid goodness to her parched lips. She took a sip, feeling the healing powers of water turning the desert in her mouth to an oasis. Breathing a sigh of relief, she said, “You haven’t told me your name.”
“Oh, my name’s Raymond. Raymond Jones.”
“Raymond Jones…you’re that kid that was abducted! Coach Jones’ nephew.”
“Yep, that’s me,” he said matter-of-factly.
Charlotte didn’t think he looked like the photo of the Raymond Jones she had seen on the news. But, that had been a couple of months ago. That photo showed the boy with longer hair. The boy in there with her looked like his hair had recently been all buzzed off. He wore white socks, stretch shorts, and a white t-shirt. Overall, he looked in good shape. “How long have I been here?”
“They brought you in last night. You were sleeping. They put you in my bed and gave me a blanket to sleep on the floor.”
“Somebody attacked me from behind…put a rag with some kind of chemical on it over my face. It burned my eyes and nose. Must have knocked me out,” Charlotte said, amazed that the kid was so calm over his situation. “Uh, I’m sorry I took your bed.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing. We’re not going to be here much longer anyway.”
“Wait, what? How do you know that?”
“I heard them say they’d be rid of us soon.”
“Rid of us? Do you think they’re going to kill us?” Charlotte said, feeling scared like she had never before.
“No, they aren’t going to kill us. They’re going to sell us.”
“What!”
“Yeah. I heard one of them say you were going to help them get a pretty good price. I hope my mom and dad have enough money to buy me back.”
Raymond seemed like a bright boy but there was something that seemed a little off-kilter. Then she remembered something about him having special needs. “Raymond, what grade are you in?”
“No particular grade. I’m in special education.”
Charlotte looked around. Cardboard boxes lined the walls on every side of the room, but there was one narrow space big enough for a person to fit through. “What’s in the boxes?”
“Empty egg cartons. They told me it’s to block the sound from the TV at night so that it won’t wake them.”
Or to prevent anyone in here making enough noise for others outside to hear them. “You said, they. Who are, they?”
Raymond shrugged. “I don’t know. Just two men. They said if I was a good boy that one day I’d get to leave. I’ve been a good boy, and soon I’ll get to go. They told me that if I’m extra good, that they’d give my mom and dad first choice to buy me back.”
“Do they treat you well? Give you food?”
Raymond nodded. “Cereal for breakfast. I get sandwiches and chips for lunch. Sometimes SpaghettiOs at night or some other meal they can microwave.”
“Have they,” Charlotte didn’t know how to ask, but really needed to know. “Have they ever, you know, touched you?”
The boy shook his head.
“You can tell me if they have. You didn’t do anything wrong if they did.”
“No,
they never touched me. Why do you ask?”
“Because I don’t want them touching me either.” Charlotte felt a bit of relief, but she realized she would present more of a temptation than Raymond might.
After drinking more water, she asked, “Where do you go to the bathroom?”
“Over there,” Raymond pointed over to a dark corner of the room.
At first, she thought he meant in the corner on the floor and then realized that a toilet sat there with a lever poking to the side of it.
“Do you have to go?”
Her bladder cried out yes. “I do.”
“You can use it. I’ll turn and just watch TV.”
“Okay, but no peeking.”
Raymond giggled. “I won’t, silly. Who would want to watch someone go to the bathroom? Yukky.” He turned and focused on the TV set.
Charlotte stood and hoped their captors didn’t have cameras set up in the room. She would look later on and see if she could find anything. For now, she had to use the bathroom in the worst way.
She stepped on a rug with her bare feet and felt small crunchy things underneath. Apparently, their captors weren’t big on house cleaning.
Coming to the toilet, Charlotte pulled down her jeans and underwear, and relieved herself.
“When you’re finished, you have to pump that handle on the side back and forth. That’s the only way to flush.”
Charlotte did as instructed, emptying the bowl clean, with fresh water rushing in to replace it. She at least realized that they were below ground. The toilet water had to be pumped upward toward the sewer.
Where they were and who had them was still a mystery. And if Raymond was right and that they both would be sold soon, well, at least she wouldn’t go weeks without knowing her fate like he had.
*
Douglas had just dropped the last ice cube in his whiskey when he heard a vehicle coming up the driveway. Did Buddy forget to tell him something?
But it wasn’t Buddy’s truck that pulled into view through the window. He had no idea who this guy was, but he was about to find out. And, whoever this was, was just about to learn a little something about old man Douglas that he wouldn’t soon forget.
Leaving the whiskey on the counter, he instead beelined for his shotgun by the door. Jerking the door open, he stomped outside on the porch and pumped a shell into the gun’s chamber.
A dark blue Dodge 4X4, with tires so high it looked like you needed a stepladder to exit it, came to a stop. Rolling the driver’s side window down, a man looking to be in his early thirties peered outward. He wore a green camo cap, and his scraggly beard looked like it hadn’t been groomed in a week. “Afternoon, sir,” he politely said.
“Boy, you must be lost or just plain stupid. I know you can’t read because you passed three no trespassing signs to get this far,” Douglas said, pointing the shotgun at the ground underneath the driver’s door.
“Don’t mean to trouble you none, mister. Name’s Walton Finch. Fact is, I got a connection with Dent County police. I heard a report that you got bigfoot tracks on your property. Now mister, it may not mean much to you, but I’ve been looking for bigfoot for most of my life. I was hoping you’d see fit to letting me see those tracks. I’m a mighty good hunter. If there’s a bigfoot anywhere near here, I’m sure to find it.”
Douglas closed his eyes and shook his head. The last thing he needed now was some nut chasing the boogeyman snooping around his place. “Boy, I ain’t got time for your nonsense. You heard wrong. There ain’t no bigfoot tracks on this place. There were some kids wearing boots big enough to stick three feet in them. I found shoe prints, not footprints. Unless bigfoot’s wearing shoes now, it was just a bunch of pranksters harassing an old man who has an itchy trigger finger.”
Walton pursed his lips and thought a moment. “The heck, you say. Maybe they’ve evolved to wrap their feet with leaves or something.”
“Then they must have learned how to cobble a heel, too. I’m telling you, they were shoe prints. Now, how many shots in the side of your truck is it going to take for you to leave?”
“None, mister,” Walton said, it was obvious he had come to the end of Douglas’ hospitality. “Mighty fine meeting you. Have a nice day.” He cranked up the truck and backed out, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he left down the driveway.
Douglas chuckled. I think he got the message.
Just for fun, he fired two shots from the gun into the air.
Yes sir, I’m sure of it now.
*
Zax had spent the day exploring the surrounding area, mapping certain checkpoints on his rangefinder. There were many caves in the area, with more than a few that would provide spacious shelter. He had connected to the Google site on his rangefinder and learned that Missouri was known as the Cave State, having over six thousand caves throughout. Missouri was also known as the Show Me State. A moniker that didn’t carry on through the Skink invasion.
He had found several creeks which supplied fresh, clean water. Water was an absolute must if he had any hopes of surviving in the wilderness. Thirst had him tempting fate the day before. Zax had traveled to the farmhouse again to fill his empty bottles of water.
It was a risky thing to travel in broad daylight near humans. But it was more than just a need for water that brought him there. He was curious to see a human. It didn’t take long before he got his wish.
A grubby looking human, much older than Tarik, came from the farmhouse, carrying an ancient long gun. There was something about the man that just seemed wrong. Yes, Zax realized he was on the man’s property uninvited. But he sensed that in any situation, the man would only see him as an enemy. If Zax ever decided to reveal himself to humans, he would have to find the kinder-hearted who were motivated by discovery and diplomacy.
Zax had moved far enough away from the chickens that they had calmed down. He stood behind a clump of trees and peeked through the branches, watching the farmer scan his farmland.
He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he felt like picking on the man.
On his journey to the farmhouse, Zax gathered some acorns and had them in his backpack. Acorns weren’t the best tasting food he had found in the wild, but he did plan on roasting some later to see if that would improve the flavor.
Taking careful aim, he sent the nut hurtling through the air where it found the target. Zax chuckled, feeling proud of himself for hitting the farmer on the head at first try.
He later headed back to his main lair. Two Nu-Mans could reside comfortably in the cave. It was basic living at best. Zax was going to miss not having a couch or a chair to laze around on.
Sleeping on the ground was going to take some getting used to, too. Before night fell, he gathered pine needles and long grasses, collecting enough material to build a makeshift bed.
That night he didn’t have a craving for fresh game. In fact, he felt fatigued, although he hadn’t physically exerted himself very much that day. The savage call of the wild he had experienced the other night had subsided.
Settling for packaged food, he chose one featuring roasted pork loin, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Zax realized he had few connections with his old life, and he felt a sense of loss after eating one. But, what good would it do him to hold on to the food like it was some relic? It was just food, not an old friend.
As he ate half a Z-bar, he wondered if he’d be able to find the beneficial nutrients in this world to replace the supplement once he ran out of his small supply.
He sat by the edge of the cave and folded the empty side of the Z-bar’s wrapper around the remaining part. An ice cold vita-water orange sure would taste good right about now. There was no chance of finding a cave with electricity, though. Zax chucked at the thought of having electric lights in the cave, a stove by the wall, and an electrical cooler to keep things chilled. The best he might hope for was to put items he wanted to chill in a spring fed stream. A cool melon would also be nice to enjoy from time to time.
Wh
o was he kidding? The other night’s longing desire to live off the land and become one with nature had left him. There were certain modern amenities that would be hard to do without for the rest of his life. How long would he last in the wilderness before giving up and take his chances by exposing himself to human civilization? He could be seen as a monstrosity, a celebrity, or as the ultimate science project, where he may never see the light of day outside of an institution.
Then it dawned on him. Zax essentially had become the Tarik in this timeline. He was the genetic abomination.
The last scenario of the possible outcome, if his mission was successful, was that he would simply blink out of time after changing the data crystal on the Skink space probe. If the Skinks never find Earth, then he would never exist.
A haunting thought, for sure. But Zax knew better than to focus on a question that would never be answered until the final moment of truth presented itself. No matter what, he was determined to thwart the Skinks’ plan. They would not find Earth, and his fate lay in the hand of the Universe.
The full moon hung in the sky above, casting ethereal dust that seemed to have sprinkled over the forest, setting everything aglow in soft yellow-orange light. Fireflies signaled to each other, winking off and on like interdimensional sprites.
Then, the wind shifted, blowing the night breeze from the east. An animal’s musk carried in the air sent a shockwave through his body. For a moment he couldn’t move. Primordial instinct awakened something inside that had been dormant all of his life. It was a mixture of emotions: fear, curiosity, anger, and lust.
Something was not far away in the forest. It wasn’t human, and it wasn’t animal. It was more than animal, though, and carried certain pheromones that were all too familiar. The creature was distinctly a female, and she and Zax had a genetic bond much closer than Nu-Mans did to humans.
Close enough to see clearly but far enough away to be non-threatening, something shook a low hanging branch of a mighty tree.
The interloper had announced herself. The shaking leaves rhythmically rattled, playing an ancient song that sent mesmerizing waves through Zax’s psyche. It was almost as if he were an instrument being played by a studious musician.
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