"Course, you know what this means," he grumbled to Spike as they both munched their breakfast bacon, "damn tourists will be here again soon."
"Oh well," he said sensibly to his comrade, "can’t have the good without taking the bad, I suppose." He shoved the last of the bacon into his mouth and wiped his greasy hands on his pant legs. "Time to do the breakfast dishes, boy."
From the depths of the Chevy’s trunk Happy pulled a crumpled trash bag out and neatly disposed of the used paper plates. Cramming his ancient cap onto his head, he and Spike headed for Wanda’s place and their usual morning cup of coffee.
Sam leaned on the railing in the bow watching the water furiously churn under the running ferry. There was no denying it. She felt wonderful this morning.
Stealthily, she had showered and dressed as Per lay sleeping. She had barely made it to the early ferry to Bass Harbor on time. The few residents who were headed to their jobs on the mainland were just loading their vehicles when she had arrived.
Sam quickly became chilled in the early morning crossing. She climbed back into her car and turned the heater on full blast for a few minutes. Soon, all thoughts of last night departed as she started to focus on the meeting that lay ahead of her in Boston.
Sam was nervous. No about presenting her data but about what they would do with it. Unquestionably, she knew that both Washington and the military would be heavily represented at this afternoon’s conference. Would they consider these recent findings a possible breech of national security? Since discovering the findings earlier in the week, Sam had been totally caught up in the excitement and amazement of it all. Not once had she considered this a safety issue. God knows, she reasoned, that she of all people certainly had a right to be concerned. For the remainder of her life she would carry with her the emotional scars from her encounter with those faceless beings. However, Sam had no concrete evidence to prove that these recent signals were in any way related to what had happened to her. It’s a big universe out there, she thought sensibly.
Just because alien transmissions have been isolated and identified it certainly doesn’t mean that there is any danger of imminent harm. Okay, she warned herself, don’t start thinking like Kevin Dodge. That’s not a good way to make new friends.
Wanda groaned audibly as she sank into the kitchen chair across the table from Happy.
"Know who I was thinking about this morning, Hap?" She continued without waiting for an answer. "The English brothers."
Happy just sat there looking puzzled.
"Come on, Hap. You remember those boys ..... the twins, Millard and Milton English." It didn’t take much to get exasperated with Happy.
Immediately, Happy’s expression cleared. "Jesus, the English twins. Haven’t thought of those two in years. What the hell made you think of them, Wanda?"
"Don’t really know." shrugged Wanda, "must be getting old. I’m starting to spend a lot of time these days thinking back over my life and the people I’ve known."
She took a sip of her coffee. "Which twin was it, Hap, who had the problem? Do you remember?"
"Oh sure," replied Happy firmly, bobbing his head up and down. "That would be Milton. Never met anyone who could tuck it away like that boy could." He couldn’t help himself, there was admiration in his voice when he spoke. "Finally killed him in the end, though. Christ, his liver must have been completely pickled through and through."
They both sat silently for a few moments, then Happy said, "I was there the day they took Milton to the hospital on the mainland. Pronounced dead, he was, by the time the ferry docked at Bass Harbor. We got him loaded into the waiting ambulance and they were just about to slam the doors shut when old Milt sits straight up, sheet flying away from his face! "Bring rum, boys!" he yells, as they close the doors on him. Jesus, the driver of that ambulance almost shit himself!" Happy roared with laughter at the memory. "Damnedest thing I ever saw!
Course, Milton died for good on the way to the hospital."
Happy, his body practically doubled over from laughter, had tears streaming down his craggy face. He fished around in his back pant’s pocket for his handkerchief.
Finding it, he proceeded to blot his eyes and wipe the tears from his face.
When Happy’s laughter had subsided, Wanda asked, "What ever happened to his brother, Millard?"
Happy looked up with surprise. "Why, Wanda, don’t you remember? Millard moved away to New Hampshire and became a Baptist minister. Last I heard, he had his own Sunday morning radio show down there."
He gave his eyes one last, good swipe with the bandanna. As he bent over to stuff it back into his pocket, something fell out of his left eye and tumbled with a clink onto the kitchen table.
"What the FUCK is that?" Happy pushed himself away from the table so fast that his chair almost went over backwards.
Wanda leaned forward, picking the strange object up and held it in her hand turning it over curiously. She put on the reading glasses that were hanging around her neck for a closer look.
It was smaller than a dime, round in shape and slightly concave. It’s color was milky white and it vaguely reminded Wanda of marbles they used to play with as children ...... only this one had been broken in half. The sides of this thing, though, had been smoothed and, as she peered more closely, she could see a tiny hole that ran all the way through the center of it. No doubt about it, whatever this thing was, it was machine made.
"Jesus Jumping Up," exclaimed a badly shaken Happy, "what the hell is it and just what the HELL was it doing in my goddamn eye?" He poked at the object suspiciously, as if he were afraid it would bite him.
In the kitchen on the other side of the house, Martha wasn’t scrambling the morning eggs for her family ..... she was beating them.
Kevin shook his head as he watched her scurry about from sink to stove, slamming everything in her path. His wife had been this way ever since she’d gone over to Sam’s the morning before.
"Would you calm down?" He said, giving her a friendly swat on her butt on his way to the breakfast table. "Sam is just fine."
"Sam is not fine, you idiot!" Martha replied hotly, slapping an overflowing plate of eggs, sausage and toast down in front of him. "Something’s happened."
"Well, maybe she’s finally found her little green men." Chuckling at his sudden flash of wit, Kevin began to devour his breakfast.
Chapter 14
"Gentlemen," Jake Gorham said solemnly, "may I present Dr. Samantha Coley."
Sam was escorted into the conference room by the plain clothed security guard who had been standing at attention outside in the corridor where she had been impatiently waiting for the past hour.
Why am I not surprised to be the only woman in this room? Sam silently asked herself.
As she placed her attache case on the spacious mahogany table, she quickly looked around the room at the nine faces turned expectantly towards her. Not counting Jake, there were two SETI representatives that she recognized. The remainder of the group were made up of suits and military.
Rapidly realizing her ex-boss was not about to waste valuable time with social introductions, Sam set about giving a brief overview of her findings.
She talked and answered intense questions for the next four hours. Time seemed to pass by in a blur. When finished, she was politely asked to remove herself from the room. Jake walked with her down the hall to the row of elevators.
"Good job." Was his only comment to her.
"Where do we go from here?" Sam asked tiredly.
Jake came to an abrupt standstill in the middle of the hall. "WE don’t go anywhere. It’s entirely out of our hands now. The government has the ball." He moved to hold the elevator door open for her.
Sam stepped into the waiting elevator. As the automatic doors started to slide shut, Jake distincly heard her ask, "Doesn’t that make you nervous?"
Once on the ground floor, Sam joined the flow of office workers emerging from the building outside onto the late afternoon Boston street
. She stood there for a moment, as if perplexed, wondering what to do next. Crowds of harried people jostled by her.
All Sam wanted to do was to go home. Funny how quickly the Island had become that once again. But she knew that even if she made the long drive back to Maine now, she still would have missed the last ferry over. She resigned herself to having to spend the night in town. Probably all for the best, she realized. She was worn out from her presentation and the intense question and answer period that had followed.
Sam quickly decided against looking up any old friends and instead took a room for the night at the downtown Sheraton on Boylston Street. From there she took a cab to the Northend where she treated herself to a good bottle of wine and a quiet dinner at one of her favorite restaurants. After all, she didn’t know when she would get back to Boston again.
Chapter 15
Sam was back on the Island by mid-day. As soon as the ferry docked, she drove directly to Minturn. She owed Martha that explanation.
She found her coming from her grandmother’s apartment, loaded down with dirty laundry.
"Wash Day?" she asked cheerfully, bending over she picked up the items Martha was dropping.
"No," Martha bit off, not slowing down her pace one small iota, "I’m on my way to go dancing."
Sam could see that she had her work cut out for her. Martha knew how to hold a grudge. While her friend put the laundry in, Sam went into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cupboards. She was looking for the bottle of brandy that she knew would be hidden away somewhere. Martha’s father used to call it his ‘cough medicine’. Sam had a good couple of fingers poured into a pair of juice glasses by the time Martha walked into the room.
"What are you doing?" Martha asked, spying the bottle sitting on the counter. "It’s barely past noon."
"We’re celebrating." Sam handed her the glass with Fred and Wilma Flinstone on it.
"Celebrating what?" Martha asked suspiciously, as she automatically took the cup.
"We’ve positively identified life outside of our own universe." Sam replied excitedly.
Martha managed to look extremely unimpressed. "You mean California?" she asked meanly, tossing back the brandy in one good gulp.
Sam sighed. She knew better than to get exasperated. She’d hurt her friend’s feelings and payback from Martha had always been a bitch.
Patiently, she recounted her last few days to her friend. She gave Martha every detail, from finding the first communication to yesterday’s meeting in Boston.
When finished, she sat back waiting for Martha’s reaction. She didn’t get the one she’d expected.
"This is just great ..... just friggin’ great! S’cuse me." she muttered, reaching past Sam for the brandy bottle.
"First, I’ve got Nana prattling on and on about Gluskabe, scaring the shit out of my boys and now this." she rubbed her forehead tiredly.
"Gluska ...... who?" asked a bewildered Sam.
"Never mind" said Martha, "you wouldn’t understand."
First, she poured for herself and than splashed some into Sam’s glass.
She’s thawing, Sam noted happily.
"What the hell are you talking about, Sam? And don’t forget ... we didn’t all go to fucking MIT."
Sam paced back and forth as she talked. Her hectic schedule over the last few days was starting to catch up to her. Fatigue was setting in. When she finished speaking there was complete silence in the room for a few moments before Martha finally broke it.
"Shit. Kev’s never going to believe this one."
Chapter 16
Over on the Atlantic side of the Island, Happy was sitting outside the Post Office with a small group of old-timers. He and Spike had been to collect the mail - something they did religiously once a week. Not that he ever got anything exciting other than junk flyers, coupons and the occasional Publisher’s Clearing House promise of winning big bucks. His weekly trips to the PO were merely an excuse to socialize and pick up on the current Island gossip.
"I hear she’s got a lot of weird, flashy equipment in her house. Doesn’t sound right to me." Old Mink Ollenburg, knowing he had everyone’s attention, was on a roll.
Happy took that opportunity to relight his pipe, studying Mink as he did so. He’d known him his entire life. They’d gone to school together and off to WW II and now they collected their Social Security checks together. Never did like him much. Mink, who stood just a hair over five feet tall, looked like he’d swallowed a basketball. He had a hump not only on his back but front, as well.
That wasn’t the reason Happy didn’t care for him, though. Hell, Happy had never set much store by how people looked. Truth was, Mink was just plain sneaky.
Always poking his nose where it didn’t belong. Like right now. Mink was the kind of guy who only felt good when he was making someone else feel bad.
"Leave it be, Mink." He said gruffly. "Sam Coley’s a good, hard working girl. It’s not her fault that you’re too stupid to understand what she does with all that equipment."
"Oh," smirked Mink, quickly turning on Happy. "And I suppose you do?"He challenged.
The small cluster of men gathered closer - they didn’t want to miss this. Happy was known for his relatively short fuse.
"Well now," said Happy, blowing out a perfect smoke ring, "guess I do at that.
It’s real simple, actually. Sam listens to conversations from Outer Space. You might say she’s got sort of a high security job."
Mink snorted unattractively. "Jesus, Hap, what have you been smoking in that damn pipe of yours? You really expect us to believe that fairy story?" All the men laughed at Mink’s clever repartee.
"Don’t really give a rat’s ass what you boys believe." Grumbled Happy as he got to his feet. "People used to think hot-air baloons were a fairy tale, too, I expect ‘til one dropped in on them. Come on, boy, we’ve had enough socializing."
Silently, the men watched Happy and Spike head down the road. Just as they disappeared out of sight around a corner, Mink said, "Christ, Hap’s getting crazier all the time."
No one disagreed with him.
Happy knew better than to even try to keep up with Spike. The dog eagerly dove in and out of bushes all the way home chasing anything that moved from butterflies to rabbits.
Happy was deeply troubled. There was simply no getting around the truth of that.
It was an uncomfortable feeling for him. He had spent a good part of his life determined never to succumb to worry. Happy considered it a futile waste of time.
Like paying the rent before it was even due. He’d always believed that you should wait and worry when there was something to damn well worry about. Like now, he thought.
Starting to get winded, he paused for a moment on the path, leaning heavily on his walking stick. Without really seeing it, he gazed out at the choppy, gray waters of the Atlantic. Sudden gusts of wind were making white caps in all directions.
It had taken him a few days, but he’d finally remembered what had happened that night. Guess the mind can only take so much than it sort of shuts down, Happy thought. But, a little bit at a time, the memory had returned to him. Slowly at first, then in one rushing flood of recollection. He couldn’t have stopped it if he had wanted to. God, he wished he hadn’t remembered. Now he knew he should be doing something about it, but what? Who’d believe his story, anyway?
But even as he asked the question, Happy knew the answer. Whistling to Spike, he abruptly changed his course for Sam’s house.
Chapter 17
"To what do I owe this honor?" Sam grinned at her old friend as she opened the front door widely. But her smile quickly faded as she gazed into Happy’s serious and drawn face.
"What’s wrong, Hap?" she asked as she joined him on the porch.
"I need to talk with you, Sam. And I guess I’d like you to let me finish having my say before you speak." At Sam’s amiable nod, he continued. "Something happened to Spike and me the other night ..... something that I want to t
ell you about."
Sam tried to wait patiently while Happy shuffled his feet and tried to decide where best to start. Sighing heavily, he sank down onto the top step, nervously crunching his cap between his knotty, arthritic fingers. She took a seat beside him.
Encouragingly, Sam asked, "What is it, Hap? You seem really upset." She absent mindedly patted Spike, who had flopped down beside her.
Taking a deep breath, Happy, seeing no other way, jumped in with both feet. "I had a visitor last week, Sammy. You might say a real unexpected visitor," he paused for a moment, "from someplace far away."
Sam narrowed her eyes as she peered suspiciously up at Happy beside her. "How unexpected?" She couldn’t figure out where Happy was going with this conversation.
"Well," he mumbled uncomfortably, "to tell the truth, I’m not real sure where it was from."
"Can you at least tell me what "It" was ?" asked Sam, feeling herself becoming annoyed at his reticense.
"It was a flying machine of some kind." he replied.
"You mean an airplane?" Sam laughed. At the negative shake of Happy’s head, she continued, trying unsuccessfully to control her heightening irritation. "Or perhaps a helicopter. Maybe the National Guard is playing war games out of Bangor again."
"Nope, it wasn’t anything like that. Besides, it wasn’t one of ours." Happy stated flatly.
Sam’s eyes widened. "Well, if it wasn’t one of ours than just who’s the hell was it?"
"That’s just it .... I’m not sure. Never seen anything like this before."
At last, completely exasperated, Sam snapped, "Okay, Happy, I bite. Where the hell do you think it was from?"
Sitting up straight, Happy looked her directly in the eye and blurted out earnestly, "Outer Space."
"Hap?" questioned Sam, certain that she had misunderstood him.
"I said from Outer Space, goddamn it!" he cried belligerently. " First, I thought it was just a small plane, you know, flying in way too low over the bay.
THE ZOO Page 5