by Rae Knightly
After a long silence, Ben peeked over his arm, suddenly afraid that Mesmo was gone. But the alien had his head turned towards the stars, as though he were drinking in the fading night with his whole being. He closed his eyes as the first ray of sunlight cut through the horizon.
Ben couldn’t help noticing how Mesmo’s skin tone went from a light grey to a darker, healthier tan. “Why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you alive?” He muttered.
He didn’t think Mesmo had heard him, but the alien opened his dark eyes, answering: “It wasn’t your burden to carry.”
Alien and boy stared at each other as a bright sun emerged between patches of thick clouds.
Finally Ben said: “Look. You need me. I need you. Help me get my mother’s asthma pump. Then we will help you out from wherever you are. Once we’ve freed you, you can go on with your precious mission, and my Mom and I can go home.”
The white-haired man gazed thoughtfully at the boy, before stating carefully: “I don’t think...” He suddenly grimaced and bent over in pain, surprising Ben.
“What’s the matter?” Ben said quickly, but only the soft morning breeze blew over the boat in answer. Mesmo was already gone. Ben sat down again, disheartened. “Come back.” He begged to the wind.
***
After waiting in vain for Mesmo to return, Ben sighed, then said to his Terrier: “It’s just you and me, Tike.”
He pondered the island for a while.
Should I go back?
Tike placed a paw on his leg encouragingly.
“I can’t face Mom with empty hands, can I?” Ben told the canine. He took a deep breath, turned on the motor, then turned the boat around towards Deep Cove again. He had enough worries on his mind this time to remember he was actually supposed to be afraid of the open skies. Somehow Mesmo’s presence had pushed away all thoughts of panic attacks. As he attached the boat to the pier of the quaint harbor, he breathed in deeply with renewed energy.
He and Tike jogged to the nearest bus stop where they took the first bus to the Lonsdale Quay in North Vancouver. There, they hopped onto the Seabus that crossed the short sea arm to the City of Vancouver. Ben and Tike hopped onto the Skytrain heading to Burnaby, where he finally reached his apartment block. It felt like an eternity since he had last seen the low-lying, three-story building with 12 apartments.
The boy hesitated, knowing there could be danger. He hid behind some bushes on the other side of the street, carefully scanning the area. Five minutes later a police officer walked out of the building, got into a police car, then drove away.
“We’re in luck!” Ben whispered to Tike. He ran across the road to the back of the building, carefully making his way to the end until he was right below his own bedroom window.
“Wait here, Tike.” He ordered. His dog sat down obediently.
Nimbly, Ben grabbed onto the drainpipe, climbed onto the windowsill of the downstairs neighbor, and made sure that no-one was inside. He pulled himself up the drainpipe until he reached his window. It opened easily, as the lock had broken many years ago and had never been fixed. Swiftly, he dropped into his bedroom, looked out the window; making sure no one had seen him. Only Tike stared back up at him, his tail wagging and tongue lolling. He was long familiar with the ritual.
Ben scanned his messy bedroom. He hopped across the room, avoiding a dirty plate, his Xbox controller, a bicycle helmet and comic books. But he failed to notice the ball hiding just under the hanging sheets of his bed. His foot kicked it accidentally. It rolled across the room and hit the door with a thud. Ben froze and listened for any noise coming from the apartment. All he heard was his thumping heart. He let out his breath in relief.
He grabbed an old backpack and stuffed underwear, socks, trousers and shirts into it. Next he crept across the hallway into his mother’s room, checked to make sure no-one was there, then packed some clothing for her as well. He opened all the drawers hurriedly, searching for an extra asthma inhaler his mother might have kept tucked away. But he found nothing.
Once the backpack couldn’t fit another thing, he closed the zip, placed it on his shoulders, and left the bedroom to continue his search. A movement at the end of his mother’s bedroom made him jump, before he realized it was only his reflection in a mirror. He wanted to kick himself.
Stop being a wuss!
Ben stepped into the corridor.
The man with black hair streaked with grey was standing at the other end of it, waiting for him. He was holding up an asthma inhaler. “Looking for this?” He taunted.
Ben’s heart sank like a stone. He recognized the neatly dressed man from the funeral reception, when he had found him handling his grandfather’s telescope.
The man took out a badge with a picture ID: “James Hao.” He said, presenting himself again. “Inspector James Hao, from the Canadian Security Intelligence Service. I thought you might be needing this at some point.” He waved the inhaler at Ben before putting the asthma pump into his trouser pocket. “I think you and I need to have that chat now.”
Not on your life!
Ben rushed into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it. Not a split moment later Hao banged against it, shouting: “Hold it! Open up!”
Ben heard him call for reinforcements, but already he had opened the bathroom window and had thrown the backpack out, narrowly missing Tike below. Ben had a leg out the window when he looked back, struck by a sudden idea. He jumped back down into the bathroom and opened the drawers, then frantically searched through the brushes, toothpaste, hair dryer and makeup.
At the very back, in a corner, he found something that he hadn’t expected to find but took out anyway. It was his mother’s engagement ring – the one Ben’s Dad had given her before he died and which she never wanted to wear. He shoved it far into his jeans pocket, then kept on searching. Ben was shocked to hear a banging on the apartment's front door. He heard Hao open it and several voices flooding the apartment. He searched the drawer desperately, one last time. At the last minute, his fingers curled around something familiar.
Got it!
He pulled out his mother's spare inhaler, feeling exhilarated. Holding on to it tightly, he dashed to the window. But as he began to climb out, all his hopes crumbled when the door crashed open. Hao rushed in, followed by another police officer.
Desperately, Ben threw the inhaler out the window just before they grabbed his arms. He shouted: “Fetch, Tike! Find Mom! Hurry!”
The two men pulled him back, Hao yelling down the corridor to another police officer: “Follow that dog!”
Down below, Tike was bouncing around wildly in circles. But as soon as he saw a police officer appear from behind the building, he grabbed the asthma inhaler between his teeth and darted back in the direction they had come.
The white and brown Jack Russell Terrier ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. Even though he quickly lost the police officer who was following him, he charged on as if he was being pursued by hungry hounds. Being a smart dog, he did not have any trouble finding his way back to the Skytrain that he had taken with Ben over an hour ago. This took him back to the Waterfront Station, where he zigzagged past commuters down to the pier of the Seabus. He slipped into the ferry that crossed the Burrard Inlet back to North Vancouver, then waited for the bus to Deep Cove to open its doors to let passengers in. When a little girl pointed out the dog to her mom, Tike scurried to the back of the bus where he lay down under a seat, shivering uncontrollably, the whites of his eyes showing, his mouth still painfully wrapped around the inhaler.
By the time Tike got off the bus at Deep Cove, he was no longer running, but stooped low with his head down, his legs and jaws hurting. He only stopped once to drink thirstily form a dripping water fountain before heading slowly to the marina where he found the motorboat safely tied up to the pier. The dog hopped into the boat, then sat down on the driver’s chair. He looked around expectantly, but when no-one showed up, he finally dropped the inhaler at his feet, his tongue lolli
ng.
The faithful Terrier waited patiently for his master to appear, until exhaustion took over. Then he curled up on the seat, his legs carefully wrapped around the precious inhaler as he closed his tired eyes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Black Carpenters
ON THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE VANCOUVER POLICE Department, in a small, windowless room with one table and two chairs, Ben waited. Although his heart was fluttering with worry about his mother, he found himself distracted by a movement at the edge of the table. A carpenter ant was crawling along its metal surface before heading down a table leg. Ben watched as it made its way to the floor before scurrying on towards the door.
If only I were your size…
In his mind’s eye, Ben became the insect that darted over the gigantic floor, reaching the slit under the door, the brightly lit corridor, the elevator, the way out…
The door whipped open and Inspector James Hao entered. With one huge foot he crushed the ant, making Ben jump as his vision of freedom went dark. The inspector sat down opposite Ben in his neatly pressed suit and perfectly trimmed hair. He dropped a file on the desk, while scrutinizing Ben as he flipped through the pages. He picked out a couple of pictures which he slid towards Ben.
Ben stared at them, puzzled. One picture showed pieces of glass, while the other had an enlargement of a fingerprint.
“Eight weeks ago,” Hao began, “We recovered all evidence from the crash site that took place near your grandfather’s property. At first, we couldn’t figure out what these pieces of glass were doing in the middle of the field. When we put the pieces together however, we realized it was the lens of a telescope with the faint trace of a fingerprint on it.” He pointed to the picture on the left. “The fingerprint turned out to be yours.”
He studied the boy for a while before continuing: “We believe you were there, on the night of The Cosmic Fall. We believe you witnessed everything, yet you did not come forward with Ryan Archer, your grandfather, to provide your version of facts and, perhaps, invaluable information to national security.”
Ben fidgeted in his chair, distracted by an ant that was tickling him on the leg. He was at loss as to what to reply.
“This isn’t a game, boy.” Hao growled. “Our country, our very lives may be at stake. It’s imperative we find out if the culprits behind The Cosmic Fall are a risk to our nation, to our planet! I don’t know what game Ryan Archer was playing when he failed to mention your existence, but, were he alive today, he would have been arrested for interfering with an ongoing national investigation. So if he told you to keep silent, you had better think twice about that!”
Ben cleared his throat to cut through the heavy silence. “The thing is,” he said weakly, “that I can’t remember anything. The doctor says I have amnesia…” He trailed off.
Hao didn’t look impressed at all. He took out another picture which he shoved towards Ben. Ben gasped as he saw the picture of himself talking to Mesmo at his grandfather’s funeral.
“I see your memory is already improving.” Hao said bitterly.
Ben stared from the picture to the inspector, then back again, his face drained.
“I want to know who that is.” Hao said. “And you’re going to tell me.”
Someone knocked loudly on the door. Before Inspector Hao could respond, a bald man with an authoritative look stepped in.
Twisted eyes!
Ben turned white as a bedsheet and shrunk into his chair in shock.
Bordock did not heed him as he turned to Hao, saying: “I need to talk to you outside.”
“Not now.” Hao replied impatiently.
Bordock insisted: “This is urgent. It can’t wait.”
Hao tapped a pen against the table impatiently, then got up, gazing down at Ben as he closed the button of his suit jacket. He gestured towards Bordock, presenting him to Ben: “This is Agent Theodore Connelly. He’s been an invaluable asset on the Chilliwack case. While I step out, I suggest you work on recovering your memory, kid. You wouldn’t want to get into more trouble than you already are in.” Hao left the room, oblivious to the long, cold glare that Bordock threw at the boy.
The door closed, leaving Ben on his own again. His skin crawled and his head exploded with questions.
What is Bordock doing here? Why did that inspector treat him like he was another colleague? Why did he call him Theodore Connelly? What conspiracy is this?
If he was frightened before, now Ben was terrified.
***
“What is it?” Hao hissed impatiently at Connelly, as they moved down the hall to avoid being overheard by the police officer placed in front of the room where Ben was being held.
“The Representative for the Children and Youth office is sending a lawyer to defend the kid.” Connelly said in a low, urgent voice.
“A lawyer?” Hao exclaimed through gritted teeth. “I don’t have time to deal with lawyers! How did they catch wind of this so quickly?”
“The office is automatically flagged when a youth under the age of 18 is arrested.” Connelly explained.
“We can’t have a lawyer poking around!” Hao said angrily, “We need to get a clearance from High Inspector George Tremblay and transfer the kid to the Dugout as soon as possible!”
Connelly insisted: “The local police are talking. They think that we’re drilling an under-aged witness without giving him proper representation.”
“The local police can say anything they want.” Hao retorted. “This is a matter of national security! They have no idea what we’re up against! No, the CSIS has precedence in this matter! I’ll set all hounds loose on anyone who so much as approaches the boy.” He pointed a finger at Connelly: “I’ll have Tremblay sign the transfer papers. That will allow us to override any questions from meddling lawyers or the RCMP. In the meantime, you keep an eye out : make sure no-one enters that room!”
“Wait!” Connelly cut in urgently as Hao walked away.
“What now?” Hao snapped.
“I have an idea that might convince Tremblay to speed things up.” Connelly said.
Hao blinked at him: “What are you talking about?”
Connelly opened one side of his suit jacket, revealing a transparent vial that jutted out of his inside pocket. It contained a syringe and blood collection tube.
“We need to take a blood sample from the boy and have it analyzed.” Connelly said.
Hao held up his hands to hide the contents of Connelly’s pocket, glancing around to make sure no-one had seen them. “Are you crazy?” He said angrily, “Not here, not now! There will be time for that later.”
“No, hear me out!” Connelly urged, “I read in the files that the other witnesses had abnormal levels of lead in their blood after The Cosmic Fall. If the boy’s blood matches that of the other witnesses, we’ll have more undeniable proof that he was present. Besides, who knows what else we might find. Are we even sure he really is who he says he is?”
Hao shook his head: “You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions. A blood sample at this stage is out of the question. If the boy talks to anyone…”
“He won’t talk.” Connelly interrupted in a convinced tone.
“That’s beside the point.” Hao continued. “If something like this were to get out we’d lose our job faster than you can blink.”
“I’d lose my job,” Connelly corrected, “I’ll take the sample. If word should ever get out, I’ll take the fall. I’m acting on my own. You’re not aware of anything.”
Hao stared at him, unconvinced.
Connelly insisted: “All I need is five minutes. Just think, if the blood reveals anything out of the ordinary, we’ll be able to get all the clearances we need.”
Hao looked around nervously. “All right.” He said finally, “You have five minutes.”
Connelly nodded, then turned away. But Hao called him back: “Hey, Connelly, for the record, I don’t like your methods, but they’ve proven efficient so far. You’re on your own on this one thou
gh. This conversation never took place.”
Connelly nodded before heading to the interrogation room, while Hao took the elevator to the fifth floor where he started making phone calls from his makeshift office.
***
Ben ignored a second ant that was crawling slowly across the table. Instead, he had his hand clamped feverishly onto his wristwatch, praying silently for Mesmo to appear. To his dismay, the door opened and Bordock stepped in.
The boy and the bald man glared at each other. A fine sweat was forming on Ben’s forehead as he cowered deep in his chair, feeling like a trapped animal.
Without a word, Bordock shoved aside the second chair with his foot, then took out the transparent recipient, which he placed onto the table, as the ant scurried away. Carefully, he opened the vial to take out the syringe and blood collection tube.
Ben’s eyes widened: “What are you doing?” He asked fearfully.
Bordock removed the plastic wrapping from the syringe, answering simply: “Taking a blood sample.”
Ben shook his head in protest, but was unable to speak.
Then the alien pulled up the sleeve of his own, grey suit jacket and, still looking at Ben, pricked his own arm with the needle. Slowly, dark alien blood filled the syringe. Once he had filled it, he pulled out the syringe, inserted the needle into the blood collection tube and filled it up. He then stuck a small label onto the tube, writing on it with a black pen: “Blood sample. Benjamin Archer.”
“That’s not my blood!” Ben croaked, “Why did you do that?”
Bordock finished wrapping everything up again. “To make sure they have a reason to keep you.” He stated coldly.
“Why?” Ben whispered, barely able to speak from fear.
Bordock placed the recipient back in the inside pocket of his jacket. He squinted at Ben with his unnatural eyes, which once more changed from green to honey-brown. “For some reason,” he said, “wherever I find you, I find Mesmo. So, as long as you are here, I am confident he will be joining us at some point.” He straightened the front of his jacket, then added: “And if he doesn’t, then the CSIS will find him for me.”