All of the Above

by Timothy Scott Bennett

  Iain stepped out under the sky and surveyed the area. “We got a bunch of trees this way,” he said, pointing. “Can we make it that far before we rest?” Alice had told them what she knew of the surveillance capabilities of their pursuers. Iain was scared.

  Emily rose and pulled Alice to her feet. “I’ll help you,” she said.

  Alice did not reply.

  The three of them started walking along the sidewalk, cringing as the occasional car passed them by. There were no streetlights on this side of the road, for which they were thankful. They came to a point opposite the trees and started to cross the street. A taxi sped into view as they stepped over the center line, blaring its horn. Emily pulled Alice back as it zipped by.

  17.11

  Mary peered across the street at the sound of a horn to see three children approaching her. Oh, my God! “Alice?” she squeaked. Ignoring her cold, sore joints, she pushed herself up to hands and knees, then scrambled to her feet. She stepped out in front of the theater. “Alice?”

  The children stopped.

  Mary stumbled toward them and they stepped back. “Alice?” she said again.

  The smallest child raised her head. “Greetings, Mary,” she said.

  Alice collapsed to the ground.

  17.12

  “What time you got?” asked Obie.

  Linda checked her watch. “Just after two.”

  Obie nodded. “Pretty good,” he said.

  The plane had just come to a stop on the little airstrip on Delmarva. “Not far from Assateague,” Beck had said. They’d come in from the ocean side, avoiding the city. But they’d seen the lights of D.C., glowing in the distance. Somewhere in that glow were Cole’s children, they hoped. Somewhere was Linda’s mother. Somewhere was Theodore Rice. Linda exhaled her apprehension in a loud, long sigh. How would they ever find them all?

  Obie looked from Cole to Linda. “You guys okay?” he asked.

  Linda looked up and chuckled once, a short, gentle sniff of surrender. What was there to say? The situation was determined to drag them along, whether they were okay or not. “How long of a drive we looking at?” Linda asked.

  “Beck says maybe three hours, this time of night. He called and got us a rental. Should be by the hangar.”

  The three of them rose and pulled their bags from the overhead compartments. As they’d arrived in the far north with almost nothing on them, the Inuit had given them what clothes they could spare, and some food and a little cash. Obie still had the pistol he’d carried when he rescued Linda. And Cole had Utterpok’s drumstick. Linda laughed again to herself. Not much of an army, she thought, to take down the most powerful secret organization in the world. She squeezed Cole’s hand and they started forward to the door.

  Cole turned and kissed her on the lips. Linda pulled back to study his face. The tics were gone. The goofiness. The odd misalignment of self and body. It was as if the aliens, the alive ones, the Tuurngait, in fashioning his new body, had tailored one that fit who he was, and thrown away that old thing he’d grabbed off the rack. Cole Thomas now fully inhabited the body in which he stood. His eyes connected directly to his soul in a way they hadn’t before. He belonged here now. He was finally himself.

  Linda buried her face in Cole’s chest and neck and sighed deeply. Not much of an army, she thought again. That was true. But enough now, maybe. Maybe they would be enough.

  They stepped down to the tarmac and scanned the clear sky. Not a UFO in sight. They were on their own. They would have to be enough. They were all they had.

  They got into the rented car and drove off into the night.

  17.13

  Grace watched from above as her father and Linda stepped out of the plane. When they reached the ground they both stopped and looked up into the sky, as if they were gazing right back at her. She wished she could just call out and let them know she was there. But the universe did not seem to work that way.

  It had been a time of good-byes for Grace. After her father and her Uncle Obie had left the Confusion, Grace and her mother had sat together on that old, brown sofa for what had felt like days, catching up with each other as the bright, blue nebula pulsed and glowed all about them. Ruth was filled with joy to hear of Grace’s life. Grace demonstrated how she’d looked as she’d grown up after her mother had passed on, morphing smoothly from the three-year-old she’d been to the five-year-old she was now. Her mother had delighted at that. She was happy to hear about Emily’s growing mastery of the violin, and of Iain’s newfound knack for writing stories. She was even happy to know that Grace’s father had found a new love.

  But Ruth remembered very little of her own experience. She recalled dying in the plane crash. She remembered the time she’d just spent with Cole in their first house. But those memories were dwindling quickly, like dreams fading in the morning sun. The years since she’d last seen Grace were mostly a blank. It felt to Ruth as if she’d just died. This realm was all new to her, and she was anxious to explore it. Ruth and her daughter wept in each other’s arms. They laughed and hugged and cuddled. But in the end, Ruth had to go. That life was done. She could not hang onto it.

  After Grace bid farewell to her mother, she’d gone to find Evlyn, whom she had seen leave the house to follow that woman with the twisted face, apparently not trusting one so broken to stay out of mischief. Grace found her old ally in the astral levels of deep space, talking with an Elder who looked strangely familiar. The melting woman floated between them, silent and dim and curled up in a ball. The Elder turned and noted Grace’s approach with a raised eyebrow, then laid his hands on the twisted woman’s head. They flickered away together just as Grace drew near.

  “Greetings, little one,” said Evlyn.

  “Hello,” said Grace. “Who was that?”

  “He’s the one who shot me at the border,” Evlyn said, gesturing toward the spot where the Elder had hovered. For a moment, Evlyn morphed into the big French Canadian she had been before, complete with a large, bloody wound in his chest.

  “Ah,” said Grace. That’s where she’d seen him before; he was the Elder she’d seen crawling out of a dead body just before her father and Linda had boarded the helicopter. “Did he say why he did that?” Grace asked the woman of light.

  “He would only say that it was necessary,” answered Evlyn, settling back into her dominant form. She knelt to scratch under Dennis’s chin, then looked up at Grace. “He is taking that twisted one to a place of healing. She may be gone for a very long time.”

  Grace nodded. “And you?” she asked. “I’m going to go help my father now. Will you come with me?”

  Evlyn spun and rolled and beamed her heart, radiating both great sadness and great joy. “I cannot, little one,” she said. “It is time for me to move on.”

  “Move on?” asked Grace.

  “I have finished my work on this plane,” she said, her glowing light both glad and full. “The Elder just informed me. It is time for me to spiral onward and continue my journey.”

  “I didn’t realize that’s how it worked,” said Grace. “I shall miss you.”

  “I will miss you too,” said Evlyn. “Can you please take a message to the one who was my wife back in your world, and tell her that I am happy and well?

  “I will do that,” said Grace.

  Evlyn shared her full being, enveloping them both in her light. Then she pulled away. “We shall be entangled forever,” she said. With a final, bright flash, she was gone.

  Grace shook off her memories and watched as her Uncle Obie descended the steps and joined his brother and the President on the tarmac. After Evlyn had departed, Grace had followed her father’s vibration, finding him in flight with Linda and his brother, the three of them heading back to Washington D.C. to confront those from whom the President had been running. Grace knew that they were still in danger. While the skeleton had disappeared into the void, and the Elder had taken the twisted woman away, that tall guy with the flaming hair had not been in the house. He
was still around. And he did not look like a nice man. Grace doubted they’d seen the last of him.

  The three humans below her began to walk across the airstrip, toward a car that sat glinting in the starlight near a large, metal building. Grace followed. Save for Dennis, who still dogged her heels, Grace was now alone in this strange, astral realm. She’d hoped to have more help, but apparently that was not to be. Jack had already disappeared by the time the house had fallen apart. The old shaman, Utterpok, had vanished into the void with the skeleton. Evlyn had had to go. Grace whirled about, sending her perceptions outward in all directions, wondering how a Universe so vast and full could feel so lonely. She felt, in that moment, like the little girl she still was. She wanted to go home.

  Dennis nosed in and licked her hand. Dennis, who had faced off with an Arctic fox. Dennis, who had helped search the Confusion, and stood beside her as she’d opposed that scary, twisted woman. Dennis, who had been with her from the beginning. Grace pulled her little dog up into her arms and buried her face in his furry neck. Even though she had no real idea what to expect next, she still had Dennis. They would just have to trust that help would come if it were needed, as help had come before. In the meantime, she and Dennis would do their best. That’s all anybody could ever do, wasn’t it?

  Obie opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel. Cole and Linda climbed into the back seat. Grace moved in, to better view the two as they settled into each other’s arms. She could feel their hearts, glowing like bonfires, beating together as one. They were tired and scared, but they were also very happy. She was glad that her father had found such joy. The engine started and the car began to move.

  “You ready to see the capitol, Dennis?” Grace asked.

  Dennis thunked his tail against her leg.

  Together, they headed for the distant glow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  18.1

  I wonder what Albert Singer’s balls feel like thought Rice as he rode the elevator back down into the Rock. He pictured himself just reaching out and grabbing them, squeezing so hard that Singer’s eyes rolled back in his head. He could imagine the “Acting President’s” testicles popping in his hands, their juices wetting his fingers and staining the Veep’s tailored Italian slacks as he dropped to his knees. It would be delicious.

  The stupid fuck deserved no less. Imagine, him actually shouting at Theodore Rice. The man didn’t have a fucking clue. He thought Rice was just the bureaucrat in charge of some special black ops unit the General had put together. Wrong answer! Rice was really going to enjoy Singer’s first real briefing, once Ma Kettle was out of the way. And the General! Not only had he stood there and let Singer rant, but he’d gotten angry with Rice as well! As if he’d been any help with this situation, the fucking drunk. Perhaps it was time for “Fearless Leader” to go. Maybe it was even time to get rid of the General’s position altogether and make himself the director. After all, he’d been at this since before these guys were even born.

  The door slid open and Rice stepped out of the elevator. He turned right and started down the main corridor, trying not to think about where he was headed. Rice put his fingers to his eyes and pressed hard against them, hoping to push the headache back out of the way. The worst was over, yes, but this motherfucker was hanging onto his frontal lobes like a pit bull with tetanus.

  It wasn’t like Singer and the General didn’t have a point. Sure. It had been a cock-up from the beginning. Mary should never have let the Prez out of her sight. Bob had blown her best chance to take Ma Kettle out early on. Even Rice had made mistakes. Wasting those troopers at the border was just plain stupid. They were still making a stink about it up in Vermont. And that fucking Mexican food: his asshole was still burning. It was as if the Universe itself was against him. Testing a guy was one thing, but this was just fucking nuts.

  Rice came up to the sealed doubled doors to the Lodge. The two soldiers on duty snapped to attention. “Can we help you, sir?” asked the short one.

  “Just thought I’d dummy check the Lodge, guys,” said Rice, knowing that his casual tone would make them all the more nervous. “Anything to report?”

  “No, sir,” said the short one. “Nobody’s been through this entrance since you gave the alert, sir. Nobody except for security forces, that is. Sir.” The tall one nodded in agreement. The short one punched the lockpad and the door slid open.

  “Would you like one of us to accompany you, sir?” asked the tall one.

  “No, thank you, private,” answered Rice. “I can find my way. I was here when they built the place, you know.”

  Both soldiers stepped aside to let Rice pass. “Very good, sir,” said the short one.

  Rice stepped into the Lodge. The door slid closed behind him.

  The D.C. Lodge. He hadn’t been down here since before he’d left for Vermont, when he’d stopped in to check on Mork. She’d just sat in her stupid little box, dormant, like a fucking gargoyle.

  The dim light in the hallway unnerved him. Rice found the lightpad and brought the glowstrips up as high as he could. That helped. He started down the long curving hallway, bending forward a bit so as not to hit his head on the tunnel ceiling.

  So the whole country was in an uproar. He understood. Misplacing your President is not like losing your keys. House and Senate members were passing resolutions left and right, jockeying for camera time to see who could look the most worried. The media had already chewed through one Press Secretary and was busily flaying another. Military and police were industriously searching the entire fucking planet, building by building. Foreign governments were doing everything they could to help, even though Rice knew that every last one of them hated the U.S. and couldn’t wait for the day it went belly-up. But fuck, what did they expect him to do? The bugs were actually helping the President. Had been since the beginning. They were probably the ones who spiked his enchilada! How for fuck’s sake was he supposed to counter that?

  Rice came into the first of three central chambers, the circular hubs in a network of spidery tunnels that stretched westward from the White House toward the Potomac. With the Life gone, most of the techs and scientists had filtered back to their own labs on the human side. Only a couple remained behind, monitoring one experiment or another, waiting for their alien colleagues to return. One of them was Gellow, who’d attended the first briefing with Linda Travis.

  Gellow looked up at the sound of Rice’s approach. “Mr. Rice?” he asked warily. He pushed his glasses into place.

  “Just stretching my legs, Tony,” said Rice. “Thought I’d nose around. See if there’s anything astray.” He wouldn’t say anything more. He couldn’t take the risk of even thinking about it. He didn’t know who was monitoring him.

  “Your security forces scoured the place yesterday, Mr. Rice. Twice. And there have been–”

  Rice held up a hand to stop the scientist. “I won’t get in your way, Gellow,” he said.

  Gellow shrugged and turned back to his console.

  Rice circled the chamber halfway, stopping at the entrance to another small tunnel. He ducked into an office on the corner and snatched something from a drawer without even looking at it, letting his hands find what he needed without his brain getting involved. He started down the smaller tunnel, which took him to another hub. Rice noted there the wok he’d stashed for his own personal use. He smiled and took the second tunnel on the right, sighing out loud. He didn’t understand. Why had the Life departed? Why? They’d been working so well together. The Plan was proceeding ahead of schedule. It had taken them decades to get to this point. And they just walk away? He’d given his whole life to this project. Rice stopped for a second to lean against the wall as the migraine pain knifed through his head, plunging into his eye and scraping his skull. “Fuck!” he hissed, wincing to hear his voice bounce so loudly off the rock walls. The last thing he needed was for Gellow to hear him.

  It wasn’t right. He’d been abandoned. Once again. It was just not right. />
  Rice completed his journey, stepping into a small room on the left. He punched the light. There was Mork, just as he’d left her, sitting in her gray, metal box, her knees up to her chin, her arms wrapped around her shins. She’d gone dormant just after the President skipped town. As had a bug or two in every human-alien facility around the world. He’d never seen anything like it. Just another betrayal. It was as if they were mocking him.

  “Hello, love,” said Rice.

  Mork stared forward with wide-open, black almond eyes.

  “Service alright, Mork? They changing your sheets often enough?”

  Mork did not respond.

  Rice stepped close in front of the alien and pulled the letter opener from his jacket pocket. He smiled. His fingers had found just what he’d wanted. With a practiced hand he plunged the letter opener into Mork’s left eye. Then he stepped back, leaving the blade to hang. A black, gooey liquid dripped slowly down Mork’s leathery face. Rice looked up toward the sky and spoke through the rock. “Come and get me, buggy-boys,” he said.

  Rice turned and walked back the way he’d come. He failed to notice that, this time, Mork responded.

  18.2

  Alice opened her eyes. Something was wrong. She scanned the room. The wrongness was not here. Gray dawn light filtered in through the hotel blinds. Mary and the human children still slept. She could hear their undisturbed breathing.

  Alice uncrossed her legs and slid down from the armchair in which she’d spent the night. Her energy was still low, but better than it had been. The salad Mary had procured for her had helped. So had the hours of quiet retreat. She stepped quietly past the two beds and stopped at the door. Opening it might awaken the humans, which she wanted to avoid, so Alice shifted her frequency and slipped silently through the dark, heavy wood. The hallway was empty.