FreeForm: An Alien Invasion Romance Series (FreeForm Series Book 1)

by Orrin Jason Bradford

  The thought sent a cold chill down his back. That's right, she's a P.I. She'd love to know about such a story. But what would she do with it? Could he actually trust this woman who he'd only known for a couple of weeks? Or would she run to the authorities or worse yet report him to the mental health people? It was too dangerous. He couldn't take the chance. But the burden of carrying his secret around on his own was becoming overpowering. He had to tell someone soon or he'd burst. And if he was going to tell anyone, Pat would be the one to tell. He didn't know exactly why, but he trusted her.

  How could he go about it? The question haunted him as he shut out the lights and turned the heat back. He had until Wednesday to figure it out. He had to tell someone, soon.

  Wednesday, Nov. 10

  Allan pulled the latex gloves from his hands and threw them in the trash can.

  "Give her two cc's of penicillin, Marva. We'll keep her in recovery until she's fully awake. Please have Dawn call Ms. Curtis and let her know Missy is doing fine and will be able to go home in the morning." He glanced at the work roster and then at his watch. "It's been a good morning. I love it when the day actually goes as you plan it."

  He walked into his office, removing his lab coat as he went. It was almost one p.m., closing time for the clinic on Wednesday. Pat would be pulling into the driveway in a couple of minutes. They were scheduled to meet Dr. Homlin at two o'clock. That would give them just enough time to get a quick bite to eat before driving to the old animal reserve that had in the past three years become Homlin's private property and another reason for Waynesboro's citizens to complain about the mysterious owner of Biogentrix.

  Although Allan was looking forward to seeing Pat again, he wasn't excited about going out to Homlin's. The man seemed cold and ruthless, and he didn't at all trust Homlin's motives. If he makes a play for Pat I'll slug him, bodyguards or no bodyguards, he thought as he glanced at the telephone messages Dawn had neatly laid out on his desk. Only one needed to be called today. He reached for the phone. May as well get it out of the way before he left. Then he'd call Kendra and let her know he'd be home around four so she could plan the rest of her day.

  On his first call, a message machine answered, and he left a short message regarding one of his patients. Then he called his home. Kendra picked up the phone on the second ring.

  "Dr. Pritchard's residence. Who's calling, please?" Kendra sounded a lot like her mother answering the clinic phone.

  "Hey, Kendra. This is the Doc. How's TJ doing?"

  "Hi, Doc. TJ is doing fine. Had a bowl of Cheerios. I’ve never seen a kid so crazy for them. He’s napping at the moment. I can’t believe how well he’s walking already, and talking…he’s talking up a storm. He even asked for his ‘Dada’ a few times before nodding off. So cute. Hope your brother doesn’t get upset when he learns his son is calling you Dada. What’s up?"

  "Nothing much. I just wanted to let you know I'll be home around four today, and then I'm going to let you have the rest of the day off."

  "Great! I've been meaning to ask you for some time off. I have several errands I need to run."

  "Well, today is the day for them. Be sure TJ is dressed in something cute, will you?"

  "Of course. I always dress him nice for his favorite uncle."

  The comment caught Allan off guard. He didn't think of himself as TJ's uncle. He was his dad. After a funny pause, he said good-bye to Kendra and hung up the phone. As he did so, he glanced out the window and noticed Pat's car pulling into the parking lot. He glanced at his watch again. 12:58. He loved a woman who was prompt. He took his corduroy blazer from behind the door and stepped into the waiting room.

  Meeting TJ

  Wednesday, Nov. 17

  Allan glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall; five-thirty. Only an hour before Pat was due to arrive. He'd finally made up his mind he would introduce her to TJ and tell her the whole story. He couldn't keep it a secret any longer. His “son” was still growing at an incredible rate. It was getting more and more difficult to hide the truth, much less keep him from wandering around. Sooner or later, Kendra would say something to Dawn about how large TJ had grown, or something else would happen to blow TJ’s cover. Then what?

  Allan had no way of knowing where that would lead. He also knew Pat wouldn't have any idea either, but the stress of worrying about it alone had become too much for him. At least with Pat knowing everything, he'd have someone he could talk to about it. Talking things out always helped. At least that’s what Laura had always said. And deep down inside, Allan felt there was some hope that between the two of them, they could figure something out — some way to introduce TJ to the rest of the world without him being looked on as a freak or as dangerous.

  When Allan had arrived home around four o'clock, TJ was still napping. Allan walked over to the refrigerator to see what he could find to warm up for his son.

  He's not your son, a small voice said in the deep recesses of Allan's mind. Your son is dead, and what you have napping in his room is a mutant larva that you pulled out of a stray dog. He's not your son. He's not even human. You don't know what he is, but he's not your son.

  "So what,” Allan said out loud. "He's close enough."

  As he said this, he spied the plastic container of food that Kendra had prepared for TJ’s meal. God bless her. She sure made his life with TJ easier. Who was to say that this boy wasn't human? He looks human — looked uncannily like Todd looked when he was three. He eats human food. He talks like a human. He seemed to have a better vocabulary than Allan remembered his son having at three. Other humans, at least one other, related to him as human. So, for all practical purposes, he was human. Right?

  Allan took the plastic container out of the refrigerator and stuck it in the microwave, loosening the lid as he did. He had learned the hard way about firmly applied lids in a microwave. After a minute, the bell to the microwave alerted him that TJ's meal was ready. He took it out and removed the lid to allow it to cool a little. He then walked in to waken him. By the time TJ was fully awake, the food would be cool enough for him to eat.

  Allan entered TJ's room — the room that had been transformed from a shrine to his deceased son to his replacement son's nursery. Allan stopped in the doorway. Something is wrong, the nagging voice said even before he turned on the overhead light. The crib looks empty...but it can't be...it’s empty, I tell you.

  Allan flipped on the light and stared at the empty crib, the sheets and blanket pulled back as though whoever had been sleeping in the bed had suddenly thrown them off. The railing was still up. Allan's eyes flitted to the open window at the other end of the room, a light breeze ruffling the curtains. Someone has taken my son, was his first thought. No — that’s not possible. No one knows about TJ except Kendra and Dawn. He was certain of that and equally sure neither one of them would have kidnapped him.

  The bitter truth hit Allan in the pit of his stomach like a blow from a boxer pounding on his opponent’s body to weaken him. TJ, or whatever TJ really was, had escaped on his own. He'd left by the window so as to go unnoticed, knowing Allan would have stopped him. But where had he gone and why?

  Allan sat on the chair next to the crib where he normally sat to read bedtime stories, tears rimming his lower lids and then breaking over them. For the second time he'd lost his son and for the second time he felt the hollow sensation throughout every fiber of his body.

  He could simply be outside playing. His mind told him. You don't know what has happened. He might be back. Go look for him, you idiot. He may have just left. But even as Allan rose from the chair to go find his flashlight, he feared he'd seen his son for the last time.

  He started his search underneath TJ’s window and, sure enough, found small footprints that matched TJ’s foot size. He followed them across the lawn towards the woods, but before the trail made it to the woods, the pattern changed from child footprints to paw prints.

  Allan stared down at the set of prints. Still believe this is your son? He asked
himself. Since when did Todd know how to transform himself into a dog? Allan could feel the energy drain from him. Shoulders slumped, he slowly walked back to the house, obliterating the trail as he went.

  "I really appreciate your coming back on your afternoon off,” Pat said as she took the leash back from Dawn.

  "Think nothing of it. Lucky is comfortable in his run, and I was planning on dropping by this afternoon to check on Mrs. Avery's two cats anyway. It was no trouble at all,” Dawn replied with a smile, then added, "How's it going with Dr. Pritchard?"

  "Well, with your help, it's going great. You were right, he really is a nice guy. We're having dinner in just a few minutes."

  Dawn walked around the counter and escorted Pat to the door. ''I'm so glad to hear it's going well. I'm not much for meddling in other people's affairs, but you two seemed made for each other."

  She paused at the door, her hand on the lock. "I think the world of Dr. Pritchard. He's been good to me and my family. I'd do anything to see him happy." She smiled again. "He's happy when he's around you. I'd say you’re good for each other."

  Pat returned the smile, suddenly a little embarrassed by what Dawn was saying. Good for each other? Yes, she guessed they were.

  As she turned out of the clinic's driveway heading towards Allan's house, the conversation with Dawn haunted her. She looked at herself in the rear view mirror. If Allan was happy around her, the feeling was mutual. She’d noticed it herself. Despite everything that was going on with the investigation, she was more relaxed and contented than she could remember being in the last ten years. It even showed on her face. Yes, Allan Pritchard was also good for her. She stopped at a traffic light a few blocks from the clinic and pulled out the directions Allan had given her to his place. When the light changed, she turned right.

  Take today for instance. The visit to Homlin's private sanctuary could have been a nightmare. But having Allan there had made a big difference in how she viewed it. Funny, Pat thought. He doesn't even know what's going on and he’s making a difference. What might be possible if I told him what I was really up to?

  The thought surprised her. What was she up to? She wasn't even sure herself but something deep down inside, the little voice she had learned to listen to, kept whispering to her that somehow Homlin was connected to the Case of the Missing Alien. Maybe he had found the alien, saved its life, and was now in cohorts with it. Maybe the alien had died and Homlin was trying to use its genetic material in some way? The voice hadn't come up with many possibilities — at least not any that made sense. Still, it wouldn't let the matter rest.

  Oh, so now you're going to tell Allan about what you've spent the last ten years of your life on? Tell someone about the Case of the Missing Alien? Someone you've only known for a couple of weeks? Are you crazy?

  Why not? She argued with herself. You just said Allan made a lot of difference at Homlin's today. What if the two of us were partners in this? Two heads are better than one.

  No way. How do you know he won't go to the authorities? If B.I.U.F.O. ever heard you were in these parts, what do you think they'd do? No, the risk’s too great. It could blow the entire investigation. You just can't trust people to keep their mouths shut. You just can't trust people, period.

  Pat suddenly realized she'd missed her turn. She pulled over to the side of the road to turn around. As she waited for the traffic to clear, the debate continued. For ten years she'd been quiet about what had happened on that mountain, convinced that if she told anyone, it would somehow get back to B.I.U.F.O. and before she knew it, she'd be locked up for life. It wasn't just that she did not relish the idea of spending the rest of her life in some room with quilted walls. If they put her away as they had threatened to do, who would be on the watch out for the alien? She had to stay free. Sooner or later the alien would surface and when it did, she had to be ready to stop it.

  No, as much as she liked Allan and wanted to trust him, it was just too dangerous. There was simply too much at stake.

  At six-thirty when Pat pulled up in front of his house, Allan was still outside looking for TJ. He heard the approaching jeep and walked around the house, flashlight in hand.

  "Hello?" Pat said, a troubled frown on her face. "Is something the matter?"

  Her P.I. radar is already on, thought Allan. "No, not really. Just thought I heard something in the backyard. Come on in the house.”

  In the last half hour, he'd been debating with himself whether to go ahead with his original plan to tell Pat about TJ, but his disappearance changed everything. Was there really a need to bring her into this now? Given her profession, it was likely she would view his son's disappearance as a possible kidnapping and would want to call in the police and FBI if she even believed his story. Without TJ, there was very little reason to expect she would. It was just too dangerous. As they entered through the kitchen door, Pat gazed around as though a potential buyer being shown the house for the first time by the real estate agent.

  "Very nice. Cozy. It has that lived-in feel without being messy. I approve." She strolled into the living room where the wood stove and over-stuffed furniture added to the warm, lived-in feeling. She glanced at the wall of pictures and then back to Allan, a surprised look on her face. She continued to walk around as Allan stood in the center of the living room, unsure what to do or say. She walked past the partially open door that led into TJ's room, and Allan held his breath. He had failed to come back into the house and prepare it for Pat's visit. His mind raced. What to do? If she goes into TJ's room, she'll know something is up. I've got to stop her.

  "How about some dinner?" He blurted out too loudly.

  Pat stopped a few feet from TJ's room and turned to look at Allan, a confused look on her face. "Aren't you going to show me around first?"

  "Well, the rest of the house is a bit messy. I'd rather wait until another time when it's clean, if you don't mind."

  Allan walked past her and pulled the door to TJ's room closed. “I’ve also changed my mind about eating in. There's a new place on the edge of town that opened up a couple of weeks ago I've been meaning to try. I doubt it'll be too busy this evening. Why don't we try it?"

  Allan took Pat's arm and gently guided her back to the kitchen. "I'll just get my coat and be right with you." He left her in the kitchen and ran to the hall closet to pull out his blazer.

  As he walked back into the kitchen, he found Pat standing in front of the microwave, its door open. In her hand was the plastic sectional plate with TJ's dinner. She turned and stared at Allan. The two stood a few feet apart, frozen in place by the mystery between them. Finally, Pat broke the silence.

  "What's going on Allan? You can tell me. I'll understand."

  "What do you mean?" Allan replied lamely. He didn't know what else to say.

  “You’re outdoors with a flashlight. The empty unmade crib in the other room. Everywhere I look, signs that a child lives here — including dinner,” she said, holding the dish of baby food out to him.

  Their eyes locked onto each other. Would she understand? Allan doubted it but whether she did or not, he had to tell her. It was too much to keep between them. He laid his jacket on the back of a kitchen chair.

  "Sit down, Pat. It's a long story. I don't know if you'll understand. I don't know that I do, but I'll tell you the whole thing." He sat down in the chair where he'd laid his jacket. Already, a heavy burden seemed to be lifting from his heart.

  Pat sat down in the chair next to him, placing the plastic plate on the table beside them. She reached out and took his hands in hers and squeezed them gently and waited for him to speak. Allan started with the emergency C-section months ago.

  ". . . When I went into the room to wake him up, he had gone through the window. God only knows where." Allan finished the story with a heavy sigh and a shrug of his shoulder. He studied his hands that Pat still held in her own.

  After a few moments, Pat pulled one of her hands away and lifted his chin with it. "Allan, I know this is going t
o sound strange, but I believe every word of your story. I can't explain what is going on either, not fully, but I suspect what brought me here is somehow connected to what has happened to you."

  "What do you mean?" Allan asked, shaking his head. "I thought you were here on vacation."

  Pat shook her head. "I'm afraid I haven't been completely honest and up front with you either."

  She stood up and walked over to the kitchen window. She stared out into the night, struggling with herself. After almost a minute, she turned around and looked at Allan but still didn't speak. Another thirty seconds went by.

  Finally she said, "I've never told anyone what I'm about to tell you. To tell you the truth, I had decided earlier tonight that I wouldn't tell you either, but what you just shared changes all that. If you can keep such a secret...well, I'm just going to trust you." As she said it, she exhaled a deep sigh.

  "It's your turn to sit back and hear my unbelievable but true story. After we're both caught up with what is happening around here, maybe, between the two of us, we can figure out what or who is causing it.

  "This is not the first time I've been to these parts,” Pat began as she walked back over to him and sat down. “The first time was ten years ago when I worked for an organization called B.I.U.F.O. . ."

  "... I've spent the last ten years waiting for the alien to turn up. Anything that sounded suspicious, I'd check it out. So far, every lead has gone nowhere. I finally decided to come back here to the scene of the crime, so to speak, to see if I could pick up anything new. Until a couple of days ago, I'd had no luck."

  "What happened a couple of days ago?" Allan asked, a look of wonder mixed with confusion on his face.