The construction at Building B blocked access to the canal and the residents had not been aware there was a completed boat dock. The overall condo plans showed the dock, but Tony Stranger had told them all that it would be the last facility built.
“Oh, the boat dock,” Art said. “That’s not finished yet.”
“That’s strange,” Judy said, “because my friend told me he docked here regularly.”
With that, Joe Finley stood and suggested that they all walk over and check it out. Bernie offered Judy his arm. Art took the other side. Ben and Joe brought up the rear.
“Stay out of trouble,” yelled Paul Amato, the former stockbroker from Boston. “You guys are too old for that.”
“Says you, old man,” Bernie shot back. They headed for the rear of Building B.
After the discovery that the processing room had been visited, the Antareans decided to keep a few back in the room to watch their equipment.
The rest went out early at dawn on the Manta III and Terra Time.
Amos Bright, the two male commanders, and one copper man watched with interest as the four men and the very pretty girl climbed over the construction obstacles at the rear of building B.
Where are they going? thought Amos.
To the dock, answered copper man.
But why? They were told it was not built. Also, that young girl is not a resident here.
Copper man concentrated. He reached for the hand of the two commanders. They formed a triangle and copper man’s eyes glowed.
The triangle broke. He thought to the others. She is Jack’s friend. She is searching for the Manta III. Somehow she thinks it is here. The others are among those who live here. They are taking her to the dock.
How could she know Jack was here? thought Amos.
She does not reveal that, answered copper man. Something else. The four men with her ... they are very hard to read ... two of them block as we do ... the others remain clear, like a commander.
Amos stared at the four men with special interest.
Rose Lewis was on her terrace serving coffee to Alma and Mary. The three women were in their bathing suits catching the morning sun. They had decided to meet and continue their discussion about the changes in their husbands. Bess Perlman would join them later. She had to visit her sister, who had suffered a stroke and was in a nursing home in North Miami. She watched as the four men and the young girl disappear around the back of Building B.
As Rose was turning to tell the others about what she had just witnessed, Bess Perlman turned her blue Olds on to the 163rd Street Causeway. She drove slowly and ignored the horns and shouts of other drivers. No one could accuse her of reckless driving. No one could accuse her of reckless anything.
Her life had been careful and quiet. Before Arthur Perlman there was the good life in Manhattan Beach in Brooklyn. Her father was a judge of the State Court of Appeals. He was an honorable man with political connections. He was also second generation and totally Americanized and assimilated. Her mother was a gentile and considerably younger than Judge Bernstein. Bess had her mother’s looks and her father’s intelligence. She was a beautiful girl. She met Arthur Perlman at a New Year’s Eve Party at a friend’s house. The Bernstein sisters, Bess and Betty, were extremely popular girls.
After Art had revealed his mob connected business to her, Bess understood why her father had avoided them socially after their marriage. He had disliked Perlman from the beginning, but he never gave Bess an acceptable reason. Actually, his resistance to Art had driven the two closer. Judge Bernstein was civil to Art Perlman, but nothing more.
Then the business with the hearings and the Mafia hit the papers and Bess understood. The thing she never knew was that her father was deeply involved in Arthur’s business and had been on the “Family” payroll for most of his career. Art never had told her, and he never would.
However, she was not thinking about her Brooklyn past today. Her concern was for her widowed sister, Betty, lying in a nursing-home bed, unable to speak or move. Bess visited her at least once a week, even though most of the time there was no communication. The State of Florida had moved Betty to the home because they had judged she would never respond to therapy. Prior to that she had been in a hospital.
The Perlman’s had enough money to take care of Betty, and Art had suggested that they get a special nurse to live with Betty. Bess had refused. For some reason, when it came to her family, she didn’t want to use Art’s “dirty” money. It was personal and only between them. He never argued with her. Deep down he knew that she knew about things that could put several people in jail for a long time. He didn’t ever want to aggravate her to the point where she might tell what she knew out of spite. So he kept quiet and she looked after her sister as best she could which meant getting Betty Medicaid eligible.
The home was a modest three-story building west of Biscayne Boulevard and north of 163rd Street. She parked the Olds and walked up the stairs to the main entrance. There were a few old people sitting on the porch. They were expressionless. One man, who looked to be well over eighty, kept dabbing his mouth with a wet handkerchief held in his right hand. His left hand rested immobile in his lap.
As she opened the door a tiny old woman using a walker stood in front of her. The woman motioned toward the door and Bess understood. She held the door as the woman tried to go outside.
Then a voice boomed out from behind the woman. “Mrs. Poland! Where do you think you are going? Stop right there.” A heavy woman, fiftyish, who looked as if she had come directly from a Gestapo recruiting poster, put an arm on frail Mrs. Poland. Bess watched the old woman flinch in pain as she was grabbed. The matron pulled Mrs. Poland around and pointed toward a doorway. “You go in there. I’ll talk to you later.”
Mrs. Poland looked back at Bess for a moment. She had a tear in her eye, but she nodded a thank you.
Fear for her sister gripped Bess. She didn’t realize the matron was talking to her.
“Can I help you?”
Bess looked away from the old lady directly into the eyes of the matron. “Help me? I don’t think you could help anyone.”
The woman ignored her sarcasm. “Are you here to visit someone?”
“Yes, my sister. Mrs. Betty Franklin.”
“Oh…that one. She’s on the third floor. Room 303. Take the elevator over there.” The woman gestured, turned, and left.
As Bess walked toward the elevator the smell reached her senses. It was the sweet odor of the old, mixed with disinfectant and rotten cooking. It made her even more afraid.
The door to room 303 was shut. Bess turned the knob and the door swung open. The room was dark. She reached for a light switch and found it didn’t exist. Her eyes adjusted to the room. There was a faint light coming from a small window where the shade was drawn. Then she saw an overhead light with a string hanging down. She pulled the string and the light went on. I didn’t know they made ten-watt bulbs, she thought to herself, because the light made little difference in the illumination of the room. It was just as well.
Her sister, once the most beautiful girl in Brooklyn, was lying on a small, old hospital bed that resembled a crib. The sides were up. She lay on her back. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
Bess touched her hand and bent to kiss her sister on the forehead. There was a slight response and a sound. Not a moan, nor a cry. It was a whine - a whine of a hurt puppy. Bess leaned over the bed and cried. Tears rolled from both the sisters’ eyes in that darkened tiny room, so far from Brooklyn and the wonderful days of youth.
The four men and Judy got around and past the construction materials and equipment and found the path leading to the dock. Copper man joined hands with the commanders again and read the minds of the quintet on the dock. He also listened to their words.
Ben Green trotted onto the dock and check the two slips. “I’ll be damned, young lady. You were right.”
Joe knelt to examine the bumpers along the dockside. “This place is
being used, all right. These bumpers are worn.”
Art Perlman checked the other side. “These, too,” he shouted.
“Two boats?” Ben muttered to himself. Then he noticed the tractor and flatbed parked behind some bushes near the path. He walked over to examine it. The others read his thoughts and turned to look.
Copper man gasped audibly. “They telepath,” he blurted out.
Yes, thought Amos and the commanders simultaneously. They telepath. But they are Earth dwellers, and we know they are yet unable to telepath. Yet these can!
Commander All Light broke into the minds of the others. Clear, he ordered. Quickly. But it was not quick enough.
Ben and Bernie caught Amos’ thoughts at the same time. They looked at each other.
“You get that?” Ben asked.
“Loud and clear,” Bernie replied. “Like being tuned into a radio station. Who was it?”
Judy didn’t notice the strange behavior of the four men. She was focused on being here when Jack returned. She would come back tonight, but now she was wasting her time. Manta III was out somewhere on the ocean.
The men walked back to the car with Judy. She asked them to keep an eye out for the Manta III and told them she would be back later. She left them her phone number.
Above the parking lot, in the Lewis condo, three very angry wives guessed what their husbands were doing - taking down the phone number of a pretty young girl.
“The last of the red-hot lovers,” Rose quipped.
“Letches,” Mary added sarcastically.
Alma watched. Joe didn’t really seem interested in the girl. He was looking left and right as though he was searching for the source of a sound. Ben joined him. Art opened the car door for the girl. Bernie helped her in, but abandoned her quickly, not even closing the car door.
Then the four men made a beeline toward Building B.
“Maybe not red hot letches,” Alma said softly. “Something is going on.”
The doorbell rang, interrupting her train of thought. When Rose opened the door a very distraught Bess Perlman was standing there. Her eyes were red and she seemed to have aged ten years.
Marie Amato had been sat by the pool with Andrea Hankinson. Their husbands came out of the pool and toweled themselves. Paul Amato had yelled a remark at the four men as they took the pretty young girl behind Building B. Now the group had returned and the girl was leaving. Marie looked up and saw Alma and the other wives watching from the terrace. Then the men had moved quickly to Building B again. She also noticed that the handyman seemed to be following them.
“Those old men are getting stranger each day!” Marie said.
“I’m glad you said it,” remarked Andrea. “I think they have flipped.”
Paul Amato smiled and chided his wife. “Can’t you let a couple of old guys have a fling? They aren’t hurting anyone.”
Marie attacked immediately. “Not hurting anyone? Did you see their wives watching them?”
“No. Poor old guys. Haven’t got the sense to play off the grounds.”
“You’re impossible. A chauvinist. Think of how humiliating it must be for their wives.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - WHO ARE YOU?
The calm water broke as Hal and copper man two popped to the surface. They swam rapidly to the Manta III. On board, Jack prepared to weigh anchor. Harry had ordered him to do that after receiving a telepath from Beam on the Terra Time.
The message was clear - return to base immediately.
Terra Time was already under way off to the Manta III’s port side.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
“The commanders called. We must return to the dock immediately. They do not say why.”
With all aboard, Jack revved the engines and turned toward the coast in Terra Time’s wake.
Back at Building B, Hal spoke to Amos. “Why did you call them in?”
Amos didn’t answer as he mulled over what might have happened. They are like us, yet they are not Antarean. I do not know their kind. They have powers. Could they be Ferons? But we know of no Feron expeditions in this quadrant. They use their powers quickly so they understand. Now they come. He gestured for all to move back to a dark corner of the processing room.
A moment later the four old men popped the lock on the processing-room door and entered their “health club.”
Rose saw Bess was distraught. “Bess. Come in, dear.” Bess leaned against her heavily and sighed. Alma and Mary came to help.
“What happened, Bess?” Rose asked when she had settled Bess on the sofa.
“We should all die quickly in our sleep.” Bess sobbed and sand to no one in particular. Her voice was weak. “I went to see my sister today at the new nursing home. It’s a nightmare. She’s in a room like a closet. Alone. Just lying there in the dark. She can’t speak. She can’t ask... Alone... all alone...oh, God...” Bess cried. Her three friends let her cry, knowing she would feel better after the tears.
Thoughts flew around the processing room like bees outside a hive.
Where are they?
Who are you?
You command nothing!
I see them in the corner.
How many?
Four.
Four.
They are human.
Of course I’m human.
What are you doing here?
We ask the same. This is our club.
Club?
Oddly enough, it was Ben Green who overcame the confusion. He reached deep inside his mind and blocked the chatter. Then he shouted “Shut up!” aloud.
There was silence. Amos moved out from the corner of the room into the blue light emanating from the wall screen. He spoke aloud to Ben Green. “May we speak?”
“Of course.”
“You’ve been in this room before, haven’t you?”
“Many times. It’s our health club.”
“Not so.”
“Then what is it?”
“That I cannot say yet. Will you talk with me first?”
“Watch it, Ben,” Bernie cut in. “These guys don’t live here.”
The commanders moved into the light. Copper man stayed back.
“Holy shit!” Art Perlman exclaimed. “Look at those two!”
Ben looked at the commanders. Then the four men felt them, but only briefly. Again thought flew, but this time only among the four men.
Watch it.
Ow!
Block them, guys.
Suddenly Bernie Lewis grabbed his right arm. Hey, that hurts!
The commanders were directing mild energy at them. What happened next was not expected.
Joe Finley started it. He turned to the commanders and thought a punch at them. All Light hit the floor. No Light doubled up in pain. Ben had thought a punch in the stomach at the Shiny Black at the same time that Joe had mentally hit Shiny White. Amos spoke again as he stared in disbelief at his hurt commanders. Copper man was frantically sending a message to Beam for them to hurry back.
“May we please talk?” Amos asked again
“I thought that’s what we were going to do.” Ben answered.
“Tell your buddies that that shit won’t work with us,” Art added. “And if they try it again we’ll really kick some ass,” Joe warned.
“I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”
The commanders got up slowly.
“May I have a moment to see to my friends?”
“Go ahead, and tell the other guy back there in the shadows to step out here where we can see him.”
Copper man moved into the light.
“Good God!” Bernie muttered, rubbing his arm. “Look at that one. He looks like a piece of plumbing.”
A few moments later Amos guided the commanders onto one of the cots. The copper man helped. The lamps above the cots came on and the commanders rested. Their faces glowed as the beams hit them.
“Are they okay?” Ben was concerned.
“Yes,” Amos answered, “but I am
not sure why they were hurt.”
“We did it,” Joe told him.
“I know. But their powers are strong. Now they are weak. I don’t think you made them weak. Let us talk.”
Amos moved toward the large center table. The four men met him there.
“Let us speak with verbal language. If we use thoughts then I fear we may hurt the commanders more. It will be less confusing.”
Ben agreed. “Who are you?” he asked.
Amos considered his answer carefully. His thoughts were totally Antarean now and deep within. No one could read them. What shall I tell these Earth-humans? They have used the equipment and gained powers that they do not understand. Yet they can use them. The other problem is worse. We are weakened. Have they done this? Or is it an outside force? If I tell them who we are, how will they react? What will they do? Do they know how strong they are? Do they know how weak we are at the moment? I wish Jack would get here. They would believe him. He is one of them. He is the only one they will believe.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE – FOREVER CHANGED
“Amos Bright has told you the truth. I swear it.” Jack had just finished a explanation. Ben Green, Art Perlman, and Bernie Lewis stood at the center table staring at Jack Fischer. They believed him.
Joe Finley had moved over to the cots where the commanders were resting. His thoughts went to a copper man and Hal. Will they be okay?
Your concern is welcome. Yes, they will be fine.
“Well, what can I say?” Ben began. “It’s fantastic. Amazing! What does one say to people from another planet? Welcome?”
“We thank you,” Amos responded. “That is a good start.”
“But what are you going to do about your army?” Bernie asked, concerned.
“That is a serious problem that we must solve, but right now...” Amos hesitated, “…now we have a greater problem.”
“What now?” Jack asked.
“Something has weakened us. We are losing abilities. Normally the commanders would have been able to protect themselves. But they could not. And I don’t know why.”
As they talked, Beam moved around behind the group at the center table. One of her functions was that of medical officer. As the men and the Antareans talked, she scanned them. She discovered two interesting facts. One was that Amos, Harry, Hal, the copper men, and the commanders were experiencing a molecular breakdown of the protective shield that they wore. It was a super-thin spacesuit of sorts whose main function was to keep their bodies within a specified temperature and atmosphere. That explained their weakened state.
The Cocoon Trilogy Page 14