Rick Carter's First Big Adventure (Pete's Barbecue Book 1)

by Samuel Belcher

  I don’t know why the Managers haven’t been here yet. They’re usually here before now. The visions haven’t stopped. They have been keeping me awake at night. I’m really tired all the time. Sometimes there is a delay. Sometimes I see things before they happen, and the Managers don’t show up till later when the action begins. Not all tears happen. Some never come about. But, that’s not my job. I only calls ‘em. I don’t manage the team.

  Still, they should hurry. This doesn’t feel right at all. I think something big is going to happen.

  Entry Eight, 21 Mar 2010

  Some days being a Seer is fun. Sometimes I get to see funny things, and I can laugh. I never realized that ole King George was such a crack up. One night he had me in stitches. I would write down here one of the jokes he told me, but it’s a little racy, and I don’t want to offend. Funny guy, though.

  I came out here with my family, seven years ago. I know I had a family, even though they say I don’t. It was just supposed to be another duty station. I didn’t expect much. I hadn’t seen the Managers for a while, and I didn’t think this place would be any different than the last one. It wasn’t until I got here that they showed up and explained that this little island was the focal point for all of reality. They didn’t tell me I would be stuck here this long, though. They didn’t explain that there had to be a Seer here at all times and only certain Seers could manage the traffic at this location. They told me I could do it. It would be fine. Yeah, that worked out fine. Bad milk, major tear in reality, big angry spiders, lots of people dead and the color red. And Fixers on overtime. They fixed the tear just in time and reversed the event. Now no one remembers it all but me. I remember it all. And, of course, the Company people remember it. But, I have to live with it in my head. That’s what cracked me. My mind cracked. Now I think I’m split in different directions. Sometimes I think I’m two different people, two different bodies, and minds but the same. He gets to run around and have fun, and all I can do is sit here, read this same magazine and hope Rufus isn’t mad at me.

  Last night’s dinner was cracked pea soup. Seriously, who makes cracked pea soup? I need barbecue. Where’s Pete? He can make such good barbecue. And he’s really good at killing spiders. I think he may have been around here for a long time. Pete used to be a Company man, but he’s more a free-lancer now. He just contracts out now. It’s an easier life. You get to stay put or travel at your luxury but still get to get in on the fun stuff. Pete’s seen a lot of action. There are only a few free-lancers left any more. They’re a different kind of breed. The T-Man is the most famous, though. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard things. I can never see him in any of my realities. I’ve tried to find him. But, I can never see him. He has a daughter who is very special and a son, too, I think. I haven’t told the Managers about her, though. I bet the Tracker could find him, though. Who is the Tracker, you ask? I can’t talk about him now, but he is the greatest tracker the Company ever had. His story has played out, but he still shows up from time to time when the Company needs him really bad. I think there are only two active trackers now. And the free-lance Fixers are only about a dozen. The active Fixers are about 2-300 in number now. The Company has been changing recently. I hear that there used to be more Managers, too. Now, there are only two. Cut backs. The Boss has been trimming things down a bit. Who is the Boss? O boy, let’s just keep that a secret.

  Entry Nine, 22 Mar 2010

  Rufus says that the Managers are on the island now. They haven’t been by yet. Maybe they want to talk to Lincoln in 178. Sometimes they go and check other things first. All the people on the island have no idea where it is they live. They have no idea that this is the single most important place in all of reality. How they would laugh if they knew. Then again, they might not if they knew how many got killed in the Arachnid War. Good thing that got fixed.

  Last night I had a vision of an old friend. I saw him clear as day. He drove a big car, and it was blue. I think it used to be white. Oh, no. Why did it change color? There’s something very wrong there. I think he’s coming here to see me, but he doesn’t know it yet. Cars shouldn’t change colors should they? I’m not sure about these things. I’ve been in here for seven years. Maybe they have color changing cars now? That would be interesting. I wonder what else his car can do? My friend is going to be a Transporter. He works for a cab company now. I wonder how long it will be before he gets here?

  The Managers are late; the Managers are late…he, he, he, he.

  Entry Ten, 23 Mar 2010

  The hall walkers are back. They’re gathering outside my door. I’m afraid. Where are the Managers? There’s so many of them. I don’t like crazy people. Oops, I said the C word. Dr. Marples is going to be mad. Sometimes I do things to make her mad. But, I already told you about her seat cushion, didn’t I?

  I was thinking about the T-Man again. His name is Tormodis. I have no idea what it means. But, they say he’s one of the best free-lancers. Pete has only mentioned him a couple of times. I think he stays on the move a lot. I heard that he teams with his wife. I heard that together they can manipulate reality. They do it without the Company equipment. It’s hard to do, but they can just go, or he can. I don’t know which. His daughter is like me. But, she doesn’t know it yet. She will, though, when she gets older. The Managers have mentioned Tormodis and his wife, too. They’ve helped out some in the past. I didn’t get to meet them ‘cause I was bonkers and wandering around Marine Corps Drive in an admiral’s uniform demanding to be shown where they had hidden the peaches. I wonder if they can get rid of the hall-walkers? At least, that’s what the judge told me. I don’t remember the whole thing myself. They could have made it all up, for what I know.

  Entry Eleven, 24 Mar 2010

  Finally! The Managers came by today! Mr. Ball seemed particularly annoyed this time, which is strange. He’s usually so calm. He did bring me a new copy of Science Fiction Monthly. They both listened to what I told them and then they left. I think they went to talk to Dr Marples. They didn’t seem to like it when I said I was afraid that something major was about to happen. They wanted to know the specifics. I didn’t have anything to tell them. They didn’t like that at all. I also told them I was leaving soon. That seemed to make them upset. They both told me, no. That right now was too important, and I had to stay in the sanitarium where I could stay in touch with the Nexus so I could tell them what was coming next. I didn’t argue with them. I don’t feel like arguing. But, Nexus or no Nexus, I’m jumping ship in just about five days. Rufus is coming with me. I wonder if I’ll get to wear my Admirals uniform again?

  Entry Twelve, 25 Mar 2010

  The Managers haven’t come back today. Where did they go? I read some of my magazine. I was sad to see Ray Bradbury had died. He was just one of the best. Of course, he’s not dead yet. The copy of the magazine I have is from two years in the future. So, for now, he’s ok. But, I was still sad to see he had died…or was going to die, whatever.

  I think I’m going to die myself of boredom soon. In four days my old friend will find out that he has to come to Guam. Won’t he be surprised? I will too. I mean, I know he’s coming but when he does arrive I’m going to be distracted by something and will have momentarily forgotten that he was coming. So I get to be surprised too. What fun we’ll have. Maybe we can try and build a laser like we did back in the sixth grade? That didn’t work out, though. We couldn’t find any ruby crystal to make the condenser out of. Imagine that, twelve- year-olds that can’t find any ruby crystal. Wow, what fun we used to have.

  Did I tell you that it was the Managers who arranged to have me sent to this sanitarium? They made a deal with the judge which wasn’t an easy thing to do especially after I called him Judge Stupidpants and threatened to send Imelda Marcos to his house. I don’t remember that either but Mr. Tabert told me afterward. Sounds good, though. This place is special. It helps me to do special things and not be as crazy, sometimes.

  Entry Thirteen, 26 Mar 2010

 
Pete is coming to see me too! Wow, I’m popular all of a sudden. Rufus told me not to let it go to my head. What head, I said. I’m certifiably nuts. Everything in this brain pan is shake rattle and roll. You get what you get; I can’t take responsibility. He told me to shut up. He was trying to sleep.

  I wonder if I will get to see my family. Will they take me there to see my kids? Why do they keep telling me I have no family? I don’t know about that. I think things are going to be a in a bit of a hurry. Things are really going to get shook up. I hope it doesn’t drive me crazier. I don’t think I could stand myself any loonier than this. No milk this time. That’s good, no milk. That was a big mess to clean up.

  I wonder whatever became of the Seers before me? I know there were many of them here. But, I haven’t met any of them. Or have I? I wonder if they are the Hall Walkers? No, that doesn’t make any sense. The Hall Walkers are multiplying. There could only have been five, six Seers, tops. I have seen some of them far away in other realities, other times. I know one who doesn’t know they’re a Seer yet. I see them back and forth, but I don’t speak, and they don’t either. Things seem to be quiet where they are. But, not dark. It’s sunny and bright.

  Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall

  Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall

  All the king’s horse and all the king’s men

  Couldn’t put Humpty back together again.

  Entry Fourteen, 27 Mar 2010

  The hall walkers are banging on my door. Dear banana pudding they are loud. Please make them stop. It sounds like there are thousands of them out there now. Who is going to feed all these mental cases? I wonder how much it costs to run this place? I bet it’s a lot. I didn’t even know it was here on the island until they brought me here seven years ago. It’s supposed to be very secret. Hardly anyone knows about it. But, I do. And they keep bringing hall walkers. Where is 178? I wonder if he is ok? I wonder if they got him?

  I wonder what lunch will be? The clock on the wall keeps going the wrong way.

  Entry Fifteen, 28 Mar 2010

  When I first came here, they used to have me do puzzles. It was funny because each puzzle was supposed to be some pretty landscape. It might be the Alps or a field of flowers, you know, something calming and soothing. But, every time I did one it just came out looking like what I see in my head every day, lots of colors and waves of people and places flying by. Sometimes I wave at them as they pass by. They smile, and some wave back. Others look at me mean.

  I am going to go tomorrow. Rufus has made his final arrangements so we can be gone in a “good and orderly fashion”. Did I mention Rufus was British? No? Sorry, strange thing to slip my mind. But, look at all the other things that have slipped my mind.

  Rufus is very anxious to go. I don’t blame him any. I want to stretch my legs too. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to go out and just relax in the sun. At least, that is, without, having any of the hall-walkers bothering you. I wish I could get 178 out as well. He could do with some outside time. Maybe start thinking he was somebody else besides ole Abe Lincoln. I know! He could be Jefferson Davis, instead. That would shake things up quite a bit. And it would give him a chance to stretch his acting chops.

  I think I have to get under the blankets now. The hall walkers are doing aerobics in the rec. room right now so I can get some peace and quiet.

  Entry Sixteen, 29 Mar 2010

  Today is the day! I’m so excited. I can’t wait to see my old friend and Pete again. But, I did have a problem last night. I had a really bad vision. It was a dark one, and I smelled rain. Have you ever smelled the rain coming on a hot day? It was kind of like that, except this rain was not water. It wasn’t spoiled milk either. It was something else entirely. I wish it could be Mountain Dew. It could rain Mountain Dew. I haven’t had one for a very long time. Dr. Marples thinks the caffeine would be bad for me. But, the color of the smell, this time, was red. That isn’t good at all. Bad things are coming. We’re going to need a lot of help. We have to find some other helpers. Maybe the Tracker could find them for us. The color is red.

  I hear the alarms. The alarms are loud. I know they are near now. Pete will get him here. He knows the way. I have a lot to tell them. Rufus is here with me. He put a for sale sign on his car. I hope he sells it.

  The color is red. Can you smell it? Awww, my head hurts. Not again. Not going to let it happen again. I need to focus. The pieces are falling apart. One, two, three, four. I can’t help them if I go more nuts. Rufus can calm me down. That’s what he does.

  Uh, oh. The Managers are on the way, and so are the guards. Dr. Marples is coming, too. She’s got the heavy sedation meds. Come on guys lets go. I don’t think the Managers want me to go.

  I wonder if we can stop by for snacks before we go looking for the others?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Hafa Adai and Pete’s Barbecue

  Rick could do little to resist the whirlwind that was Melvin Thibadeaux, a human force of nature that seemed to rush headlong into everything he set his mind to, never sparing a breath in between. The normal screening and booking procedures that hindered most travels for hours at a time didn’t seem to apply to Mel. He somehow managed to rush them both through the Tampa Airport in record time, bypassing the myriad of check-ins, body searches, DNA analysis and required background checks to the fourth generation. It was as if they were invisible and free to board the plane on their own, which they did. With no more than an exhausted sigh, Rick found himself seated firmly and uncomfortably in first class, trying to figure out how the mandatory seat buckle worked and listening to the flight attendant explain water crashes. Then the plane was in the air. and Rick was left wide-eyed and shaken from the experience. They were on a flight bound for Guam. His mind was having trouble processing the events. In fact, he was about twelve minutes behind real-time, trying desperately to catch up. He was never this impulsive. The most impulsive thing he had done in the last three years was switch a 4 to 1 bet on SloMo to win to a 22 to 1 on Grand Biscuit to place at the Tampa Regional Track. He had lost that bet. Impulsive behavior was not his forte. On the other hand, impulsive behavior seemed to be the only way Mel got around. And he talked a lot. He was impulsive, hyper and talked a lot.

  By the time the plane touched down at Guam’s Antonio Wan-Pat International Airport, seventeen hours and one International Date Line later, Rick didn’t know if he was dizzy and sore from the long trip or Mel’s constant talking. He had never dreamed someone could be capable of talking for seventeen straight hours but in Mel’s, case he showed no signs of fatigue or slowing. In fact, he might have just gotten warmed up. Mel just would not shut up. He told him story after story about the many times he had saved the world, the one time they lost South America and had to get it back, the time he saved a nun, saved a penguin, saved whatever. Rick stopped paying attention after their brief layover at LAX. He tried to sleep. He was used to sitting in one place for long periods of time and used to sleeping upright if the time and place called for it. But, Mel’s voice just kept nagging him. It was like a fly he couldn’t swat. He knew, eventually, his tolerance for Mel’s voice was going to give way to his hunger pains. Finally, as they stood waiting for their bags to come down the claim chute he looked over at him, held his hand up and said: “Just shut up.”

  Mel looked back at him surprised, his mouth clamped shut.

  “I’m tired, and I’m hungry. Which of these problems is your babbling going to fix first?” Rick asked sarcastically.

  Mel looked a little dejected. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I told you I know the perfect place. You’re gonna love Pete’s. Everybody loves Pete’s.” He quickly grabbed his bags, as if someone was waiting for him somewhere and he needed to get there in a hurry, and he rushed away, leaving Rick standing with his duffel bag, his shoulders slumped and his head down.

  The place Mel rushed off to in such a hurry was the rental car counter. It turned out that public transportation was somewhat spotty on Guam, a kind of hit or miss thing.
So, public transportation in their case meant a car. But, after he paid for his rental and walked out into the lot with his keys, Rick wasn’t altogether sure it was a car. They stood looking at it for a while, turning their heads and trying to figure out how such a little piece of molded and welded metal could have an engine in it. Rick was just praying that the rust was holding the frame together. Mel was hoping Rick would fit in it. Fortunately, luck was on their side, and both of them turned out to be right. It was a nifty little Japanese model designed to fit the budget and size of a typical Japanese family, in 1973. But, it might have been stretching credulity, and the laws of physics, for an 185 pound Mel and a 340 pound Rick, to squeeze into it simultaneously. Rick had to shove himself almost folded up into it like a jack in the box, except he wasn’t sure if he was ever really going to be able to pop back out of it again. His head and shoulders were bent uncomfortably forward toward the dash, and he had to arch his neck backward and turn his head at the same time just to see out of the small windshield. Mel wasn’t faring much better. He was also hunched over and had to operate the brakes, gas and clutch pedals with a skill not afforded to six-foot men jackknifed into a foreign sub-sub-sub-compact. Rick tried to look around the dash.

  “Look for a button. Maybe it’ll fold out like a transformer.” He said sarcastically.

  Mel tried to look at him, but the effort pinched his neck painfully. “I’d give anything for a Buick right about now.”

  “Don’t they have anything bigger?” Rick complained. He put his right hand up to the roof to steady his awkward position, and it was then that he realized that there was no fabric or cushioning on the inside of the roof. It was bare, rusty metal, and very hot from the sun.