Awakenings: 3/?
by Linda Garrick and Nancy Smith
The sun rose high in the sky and the day became warm. Eric trudged doggedly along, glancing now and then at his chronometer. He had been walking for nearly five hours and was exhausted. It was past one in the afternoon, the sun beat down on his head and back and sweat ran down his neck. The baby had commenced to fuss this past hour, rooting frantically at the blanket and Eric's shirt. She needed to eat, and so did he. He felt shaky, and knew he must be hungry, although he had hardly noticed through his grief and anger. The Patrol had shattered his life. They had ripped everything from him, and expected him to submit. Well, he hadn't submitted, and he wasn't going to. If they wanted him, they were going to have to fight to get him.
He came out of the woods and saw before him a sloping hillside. Below him lay cornfields, their stalks turning brown now, moved gently, crackling a little in the soft September breeze. Beyond the nearest field he could see a white farmhouse.
He paused to consider. Would an ordinary citizen be willing to help him? Probably, he thought, especially when the citizen saw the baby. But the person was also likely to be curious and demand an explanation. Possibly he would want to notify the police and report the situation. Well, maybe he could come up with a believable story....
Elizabeth was crying in earnest now, her face red, and her little mouth wide open. She needed to eat soon, and was also in dire need of a diaper change.
Slowly he walked across the cornfield toward the house, his mind racing. By the time he reached the lawn surrounding the house, he had made up a story that might get by -- if he could just make it sound convincing enough. And if he didn't stay around long.
A dog began to bark as he approached the door, and a woman came out of the house, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She was tall and slim, and was wearing jeans and a loose shirt, her hair tied back with a checked scarf. She stared at Eric in astonishment.
"Hi," Eric said, attempting to sound casual. "I'm from down the road. My mom left me to take care of my sister. I guess she was in such a hurry she forgot to leave me any milk. Do you have some I can borrow?"
The woman's mouth opened in a gasp as her eyes took in the sight of Elizabeth's howling fury. "Good Lord! That child's no more than a week old!"
"Yes, ma'am. Mom and Dad had a bad emergency and had to leave her with me. Do you have some milk I could give her?"
Another moment of shocked silence. Then the woman nodded. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do have some. Come in, little boy. What's your name?" She stepped back, holding the door open for him.
"I'm John Anderson," Eric said, entering the house.
"Hello, John. I'm Mrs. Wolfe. Have a seat."
Eric found himself in the kitchen. The air was warm and smelled of cooking. For the first time he felt his stomach contract in hunger, and became acutely aware of the pot of soup bubbling on the stove.
He seated himself at the kitchen table, Elizabeth in his lap. The woman went to a cupboard and opened it, reaching up. A baby toddled through the door and paused to stare at Eric with round eyes, two fingers in its mouth.
"Hi there," Eric said.
Mrs. Wolfe was pouring prepared formula into a baby bottle. "How old are you, anyway, John? You look sort of young to be left in charge of a baby."
"I'm thirteen," Eric said. "I know I don't look like it, but I am."
"No, you certainly don't look it." The woman sounded skeptical. She placed the bottle in the microwave and pressed a button. "It'll be ready in a moment. Poor baby! She sounds awfully hungry."
"It really hasn't been that long," Eric lied. "Mom's only been gone about an hour."
"Rather careless of her to forget to leave her baby, anything to eat, though." Mrs. Wolfe removed the bottle from the microwave, tested it on her wrist, and handed it to Eric. "You can feed her here, if you like."
"Thank you, ma'am." Eric was glad to rest. He inserted the nipple into the baby's mouth. Elizabeth began to gulp hungrily.
Mrs. Wolfe was watching him, a slight frown on her face. "You look a bit hungry, yourself. Would you like some cookies and milk while you're feeding her?"
Eric couldn't resist. "Yes ma'am. Thank you very much."
Mrs. Wolfe went to the cookie jar, placed cookies on a plate, and poured a glass of milk. "What's your sister's name, John?"
"Elizabeth." Eric took a cookie from the plate. The other baby toddled over and reached up with grimy hands.
"Gak!"
The lady picked the little boy up and set him in the high chair, handing him a cookie. Eric continued to feed Elizabeth the bottle, aware that Mrs. Wolfe was still watching him curiously.
"Why don't you take off your coat," she suggested. "The day's turned warm."
Eric didn't dare -- not with the blaster tucked into his belt beneath it. "Uh...no thank you. I think I'd better be going. Mom and Dad might come back, and they'll be worried if I'm gone."
"I should think they would." Mrs. Wolfe sounded a bit indignant. "Look, why don't you stay here until they get back. I'll phone your house. What's the number?"
"Uh...I don't remember. We're new here."
"Uh huh." She came a step closer and her frown deepened. "Have you been crying, John?"
Eric was ready for that one. "Yes, ma'am. I'm awfully worried. The reason my mom and dad got called away is that my grandma's been in an accident. They had to go to the hospital."
"Which hospital?"
"Huntington."
"Oh." The Lady looked perplexed. "I can call for you and see how she's doing."
"Mom told me she'd call and tell me as soon as she found out how Grandma was doing. Really, ma'am, I've got to get back. She might try to call, and if I'm gone when she does--"
"Sit down." The lady was frowning. "You're not telling me the truth, are you? Why are you lying?"
Eric opened his eyes wide. "I am so!"
"I have a boy of my own who's just about your age, John -- if that's really your name. I can tell when a child is lying, and besides, your story doesn't hang together. No woman in her right mind would go off and leave a week old baby with nothing to eat and in the care of a child your age -- and don't tell me you're thirteen! You're no more than ten - if that!"
Eric was on his feet. "Please, I have to be going!"
She barred his way. "Look, John, you can trust me. You're in some kind of trouble, and you're scared. I don't believe you've committed any crime. Now, tell me what's happened. Maybe I can help you."
Eric lowered his voice. "You won't believe it."
"Try me."
Did he dare trust her? Would she believe him? Eric felt the infuriating tears rising to his eyes, and forced them back. She seemed like a nice person, and she had kids of her own. Maybe he could trust her.
She came toward him and put her hands gently on his shoulders. "You've been well brought up, John. That much is obvious. You're courteous and well spoken. That's what makes it even harder to believe that your mother would do what you say she did. Now, what happened?"
Her kindness disarmed him. He looked down at Elizabeth, then up at Mrs. Wolfe again. "You're right -- I am in trouble. And my name isn't John. It's Eric."
She nodded. "Go on."
He gulped. "I...I don't know where to begin. Yesterday my teacher gave me a test. I think it was a test to tell if a kid was a psychic or not. He must have suspected me, and tested me to be sure." He gulped. "I am."
"You're a psychic--like it said in those pamphlets in the post office?"
"Yes ma'am. I know it sounds crazy, but I am. My little sister was born yesterday and last night the Patrol showed up to get my father and me. They were dressed like police, but they weren't police. We picked up my mother from the hospital and ran from them. They shot us down." Eric began to cry. "They killed my morn and took my dad prisoner! I got away with Elizabeth. They're still chasing us!"
She was staring at him. Eric choked back his sobs. "And now I don't know what to do! I don't have anyone I can go to for help."
She interrupted him. "This is crazy! You must be wrong, Eric. Nobody would do that."
"I told you you wouldn't believe me." Eric set the empty bottle down on the table. "Who would? It's the wildest story I've ever heard - but it's all true! Every word! My mother's dead. I saw the guy shoot her, and put handcuffs on Dad."
Mrs. Wolfe was shaking her head. "I'm going to call the police."
"The pamphlets said not to! They said the police would tell the Patrol."
"Look, Eric." Her voice was calm again. "I think you believe you're telling the truth, but you must be wrong. This couldn't have happened."
"Why not? The Patrol's shown up on Terra before, haven't they? They've taken Terran citizens away. I've read about it in the newsstrip, and so have you."
"How do you know you're a psychic, Eric?"
"I just know. Dad told me."
"And how did your dad know'?"
"I don't know, but if I'm not a psychic, then why are they after me?"
"Maybe you have it wrong. You're very tired, and awfully shook up. Were your parents in trouble with the law, maybe?"
"No!"
The phone began to ring. Mrs. Wolfe ignored it. "Sit down, Eric. I'm going to call the police. They'll tell us what to do."
"No! Don't!"
The phone continued to ring. Mrs. Wolfe went to the door. "Stay here, Eric. I'll be right back."
Eric waited until he heard her answer the phone. Then he was on his feet. Silently he crossed the kitchen, picked up two cans of prepared formula, and headed for the door. Halfway there he paused, looked back, then ran across to grab the baby bottle. He jammed all three articles down his shirt, snatched a dishtowel from the sink board, and once again ran for the door. Mrs. Wolfe appeared in the doorway. "Eric!"
He bolted out the door and across the lawn, ignoring her shout for him to stop. Behind him he heard the door open again, and the sound of her running footsteps. Fear lent him strength as he dashed across the cornfield and back into the trees. He heard her call twice more, the second time very faintly. Then nothing.
He staggered on, once again half-crying. Mrs. Wolfe hadn't believed him. She thought he had imagined it, as any grown up might. He was just a kid and the story was just too unbelievable. But, too, maybe she had been right. Maybe the only thing to do now was to call the police and get them in on it. There wasn't much he could do alone.
He was incredibly tired. Slowly he skirted the forest edge, giving the farmhouses a wide berth, and once more headed toward home. He had to warn Ruthy. Some inner sense was telling him to hurry -- that Ruthy, too, was in danger.
After another hour of walking, the woods began to look familiar. Fifteen minutes later he was sure. He was approaching his family's farm. He glanced at his chronometer. It was almost three. School would be out in a few minutes. He'd have to hurry if he was going to catch Ruthy before she got home.
A voice was calling in his mind -- Ruthy's voice. She sounded very near, probably due to his fatigue. He knew he wasn't really hearing her, but he tried dreamily to answer. *Here, Ruthy. I'm right here.* He found himself mumbling the words over and over again, and jerked his head up, aware that he had been half dreaming. Ruthy's voice spoke again, loud and clear.
*Eric!*
It wasn't imagination! She was here!" Eric looked wildly around. It had been her voice! He was sure of it!
*Eric!*
"Ruthy!" he whispered. "Not so loud. I've got guys looking for me. Where are you?"
*Here! Here, Eric!* Again the words sounded like a shout, so loudly did they reverberate in his ears. She sounded like she was right beside him.
"Ruthy! I hear you! Where are you?"
Silence. He could see her face vividly in his mind. Was he imagining things -- perhaps just thinking that he was hearing her voice. "Ruthy?"
There was a faint crunching in the underbrush. "Here, Eric," she whispered.
Eric charged forward, half sobbing her name. She appeared suddenly out of the greenery and ran toward him, arms outstretched. He reached her, feeling all at once weak and helpless. She clasped him in her arms, holding him tightly, the baby between them. "Oh, Eric, I've been so worried about you! Are you okay? Oh, Eric, you're crying! What's happened?"
"Mom's dead." He choked out the words, sobs catching in his throat. "Mom's dead, and Dad probably is, too, by now. And there's nothing I can do to help him! Oh, Ruthy--!"
She took the baby from him and put one arm around him, tugging him down beside her onto the ground. Her small hand smoothed his hair and she pressed his face against her shoulder. Many times in the past Eric had comforted her, but this was the first time she had done so to him. For a few moments the world blurred out as he simply clutched her and wept. She spoke soothingly to him, her voice strangely calming.
After a few minutes he was able to lift his head and give her a shaky smile. "Sorry, Ruthy. I'm acting worse than Elizabeth."
"You aren't either!" Her voice was firm. "You've been through a terrible time, and you've done wonderfully. No one else I know would have been able to do half so well -- not even grown ups."
"I saw him shoot her," Eric whispered. "They shot down our car and stunned 'em both. Mom wasn't unconscious, though, and when the 'trols came up to her, she took his blaster away. Mom and Dad were both psychics, Ruthy. Mom used...telekasis... or something like that--"
"Telekinesis," Ruthy said, her voice awed. "Go on."
"Telekinesis. She took his blaster away from the guy and shot him and one of the others. Then the last one got her, up close."
"Oh, Eric! How horrible! Who are they? Those guys who came to your house that said they were cops?"
"Yeah, only they aren't cops. They're Patrol -- Viceregal Peace Patrolmen!" Eric spat out the words derisively. "I was about twenty meters away, holding Elizabeth. Mom told me to run, and I did. The one who shot Mom cuffed Dad and then came after me. I...I tricked him. I put Elizabeth in the bushes and let her scream. When he bent over her, I hit him with a branch. He dropped his blaster, and I picked it up and shot him." Eric paused and swallowed. "I killed him."
"You did! Good for you! Then what happened?"
"I went back for Dad, but when I got there he was gone, and Mom, and the two 'trols, and the aircar. The guy Mom shot must've recovered some and gone to look for his friend, and taken Mom and Dad along. Oh, Ruthy...." A lump rose in his throat again, and he swallowed hard.
The girl looked down at the baby, smoothing her hair. "Those guys came to our house looking for you. Sam...stupid, idiotic Sam...told 'em I'd been over to warn you. Then they wanted to talk to me. I knew I was in trouble and I ran for it."
Eric reached out and put a hand on her arm. "Do you know why they're after us?"
She shook her head. "I just know they want to kill us."
"How did you know that?"
"I--" She looked puzzled. "I just knew."
"Me too. They want us because they're working for the Jils, and the Jils told them to go get us. We're psychics -- just like those pamphlets in the post office and the shuttle station said. Mom and Dad were psychics, too, and so is Elizabeth. Dad told me."
"But what about me? You might be because your parents were, but I--" She stopped, looking scared. "Are my mom and daddy psychics too, Eric?"
"I don't know, but I know you are. Mom told me. She seemed to know, somehow. That's how you knew something was wrong!"
Ruthy stared at him a moment, then gave a sudden nod, almost as if she'd expected something of the sort. "I guess I did know," she said seriously. "I just didn't know I knew." She took a deep breath. "And Mom and Dad...and my brother and sisters."
"They could be, too. I'll bet you anything Molly is, anyway. Look at the way she seems to know everything! Remember what she said yesterday morning about her teacher?"
"Yes!" Ruthy bit her lip. "Eric, I've got to warn them! The 'trols'll be after them, next!"
"But how?"
Ruthy swallowed hard. "Look, if these guys are pretending to be cops, they can't be here -- you know -- legally. Maybe if we tell the real cops, they'll do something."
"I don't know," Eric said. "The pamphlets said not to."
"But we've got to do something. And we don't know anything about the people who put those pamphlets there. They might be -- well, you know, what Sam calls extremists...or something like that."
"Extremists. Sam's full of sh--" Eric stopped. "Well, maybe he's right about this, though. We don't know who those guys were, and we sure can't do much on our own. We've got to get help. We can't just hang around out here forever, and anyway, your mom and dad are in danger."
Elizabeth began to cry. Ruthy patted her back, then frowned. "Eric, this poor baby is soaked. Do you have anything I can use for a diaper?"
Eric produced the dishtowel. "This is all I have."
"Oh." Ruthy took it, considered a moment, then reached in her sweatshirt pocket and pulled out an omni-clip. "Let's see if I can do something with this." She placed the baby on the ground, removed the soaked disposie and folded the dishtowel beneath her. "Now, maybe if I pull it around, so...yes, that'll work." She held the diaper in place and clipped it tightly. "There. Not too bad."
"You're great, Ruthy. How' d you know how to do that?"
"I don't know. Mom always used disposies on Molly." She wrapped the damp blanket around the baby again and cradled her gently. "Well, should we try to go to the police? Surely they couldn't refuse to help two kids and a baby."
"I don't know," Eric said doubtfully. "What if they called the Patrol and told on us?"
"But we're local kids! They wouldn't do that! My dad's known old Captain Andrews for years!"
Eric nodded reluctantly. "Maybe you're right."
Ruthy looked down at the baby. "Maybe I should go home. The 'trols'll probably be gone by now, and Mom and Daddy'll be worried."
"You stay here," Eric said firmly. "Probably isn't good enough. I saw those guys shoot my mother. Don't go back. Stay here with Elizabeth and wait for me. I'll walk to town and talk to the police."
"I'll go with you. I don't want you to go alone."
"No. You stay here. My dad knows Captain Andrews, too. He'll probably help us, and if he doesn't, at least Elizabeth'll still be safe." And you, too, Ruthy, he added silently.
The girl swallowed. "I don't want you to go alone."
"I have to. Look, the 'trols are looking for a boy carrying a baby. If I don't have her, I'll look just like any other kid walking home from school." He glanced at his chronometer. "Class let out ten minutes ago. No one will be able to tell me from the rest of the bunch." He took the cans of formula and the bottle from his shirt and set them down beside her. "Take care of Elizabeth for me, and stay right here. I'll be back."
She nodded, but her face was pale. "Oh, Eric, please be careful!"
"I will."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "How long do you think it'll take?"
"I don't know. It's almost three kilometers to town. That'll take me awhile. Then I'll have to find someone who'll listen to me. Give me at least two hours."
"Okay." She caught his hand and clutched it. "Be careful!"
"I will be."
"And don't worry about Elizabeth. I'll take good care of her."
"I know you will." Eric looked at her, and tried to give her a brave smile.
"Hurry back," she said.
"I will."
She threw him a kiss. A lump rose in Eric's throat. He turned quickly away and strode through the trees in the direction of the main road.
It took him only minutes to reach it. He emerged from the trees, glanced carefully around and then joined another group of children walking toward town. From behind, there was the sound of a groundcar and a police vehicle passed, its occupants staring around searchingly. Eric's spine prickled, but they ignored him. The 'trols were looking for a boy and a baby -- not a kid walking home from school. Eric saw his schoolmates everywhere, and a boy stepped up beside him. "Hey, Eric, you weren't in school today! Where were you?"
Eric swallowed. "Mom had her baby last night."
"Hey! No kidding! Sister or brother?"
"Sister."
"Aw, too bad! Sisters are a pain! Be seeing you, buddy." The boy turned off down a side road, and Eric increased his pace, trying to keep his face down and not attract attention.
It took him close to an hour to reach the town. He trotted along Main Street and stopped before the police station, staring nervously at the building. Some inner sense was speaking, telling him that this wasn't a good idea, and yet, what else could he do? He was only a kid, but he was on his own world. He was a citizen of the Terran Confederation. Surely the police would be able to help him! Anti-Jilectan feeling ran high on Terra; and he'd committed no crime for which they could hold him responsible. Sure, he'd killed the 'trol, but the 'trol had killed his mother. Surely that, if anything, was justifiable homicide.
With a deep breath, he ran up the steps and entered the building.
He found himself in a large room, and men in uniform were stationed at various desks, some of them working on computers, some doing other things and one reading what looked like a procedure manual. Eric crossed the room and stopped before a desk. A woman looked up, smiling. "Yes, young man? May I help you?"
Eric cleared his throat. "Um...yes. I need to speak to Captain Andrews. Is he here?"
The lady looked amused. "Can you tell me what the problem is, young man?"
"Please, this isn't a joke. My mother's been killed, and my father's been kidnapped. My sister and I are in terrible danger." Eric felt tears of grief and exhaustion flood his eyes. "Please, Ma'am, let me talk to Chief Andrews. He knows my dad."
The lady's smile had vanished. She came around the desk and took his arm. "Sit down, little guy. I'll call the chief."
Eric sat in the chair beside her desk. The lady reached over, pressed a button and spoke into a small device. A man's voice answered.
"Yes, Vivian?"
"Is the Captain in there, Mike?"
"Just a minute. I'll switch you."
She glanced at him. "What's your name, young man?"
"Eric Vogleman, ma'am." Eric blinked back tears.
"Okay, Eric. Now try to calm down. I'm sure things aren't as bad as you imagine." She turned as a voice came from the speaker again. "This is Captain Andrews, Viv. What is it?"
"Captain, I have a little boy here. He says his name's Eric Vogleman, and that his mother's been killed and his father kidnapped. He looks very upset, and is asking to talk to you. Do you want me to send him in?"
A pause. Then, "Bring him in."
The lady stood up. "Come with me, Eric."
She took his hand and led him through a door. A tall, slender man was seated behind a desk. He glanced up, then rose to his feet. "Take him on in."
They went through another door into a large office. A large, rather plump man, whom Eric recognized as Captain Andrews was standing behind a desk. He gestured to the woman. "You can go, Viv."
The woman hesitated. "Maybe I should stay, sir. He's pretty upset."
He shook his head, making a gesture of dismissal. The woman frowned, then shrugged and obeyed. The door slid shut behind her.
Captain Andrews came around the desk and stopped before Eric. Eric felt a new thrill of alarm, and his heart began to pound. He took a step backward, but the officer reached out quickly, grasping his arm.
"Please, Captain!" Eric gasped. "My dad knows you! John Vogleman? Please, don't--"
He was ignored. The man pulled him, still struggling, around the desk, opened a drawer, and drew out a framed photo. Eric recognized it. The print was from last year's school pictures. The captain glanced at it, then at Eric. He nodded slightly.
"I'm sorry, kid," he said, and started to drag him toward another door. Eric fought him frantically, twisting in his grasp. His first instinct, then, as well as the warnings in the pamphlets, had been correct. Captain Andrews, Terran cop that he was, would obey the Patrol's orders.
He screamed for help. The Captain caught him fiercely around the waist, lifted him, and clamped a hand over his mouth. Eric tried to bite him, panic constricting his throat. The man was horrifyingly strong. His arm crushed Eric tightly against him, and the hand over his mouth was like iron.
The door slid open before them and they entered another room -- a much smaller office. The panel clicked decisively shut behind them. Two more officers clad in blue uniforms came to their feet. Andrews spoke.
"This is the Vogleman boy. Hold him here. I'll notify Lieutenant Quiller."
The men came toward him, took Eric by the arms and seated him forcibly in a chair. He screamed for help, and again the sound was muffled by one of the men. The other brought his wrists behind him and fastened them together with a pair of handcuffs.
The man straightened up, his mouth drawn into a hard, unyielding line. "0kay, kid, if you promise you won't scream, we'll let your mouth go. Promise?"
Eric managed to nod.
"Okay. One squeak, and you'll be gagged. Got it?"
Eric nodded again. The other man released the hand from over his mouth. Both men stepped back, watching him.
"Please!" Eric whispered "Don't give me to the Patrol! Please!" Sobs rose in his throat, and now he didn't try to fight them. "They've killed my mother, and probably my dad, too. They tried to kill me and my little sister. Please, Sergeant, don't give me to them!"
One of the men grimaced, and Eric could almost sense his thoughts. He disliked the role he was being forced to play -- turning a child over to the Patrol, but on the other hand, if he didn't obey and Lieutenant Quiller found out, there would be dire consequences. The Patrol had promised them all kinds of trouble, and the probable deaths of all involved if they didn't cooperate.
Eric strained against the handcuffs, sobbing hysterically. Captain Andrews went over to a videophone and pressed buttons. The blond, muscular face of a man in police uniform appeared. "Yes, Captain?"
"Lieutenant Quiller," Andrews said, "we have the boy."
The Lieutenant smiled. "Very good, Andrews. I'll remember this. Keep him there. My men will arrive in a few minutes."
"Yes sir," Andrews said expressionlessly. He turned from the suddenly blank screen and went out. The door closed behind him.
Eric swallowed hard and tried to will his voice into steadiness. "Please don't give me to him! Please! They're going to kill my whole family! We haven't done anything! I have a baby sister -- she was just born yesterday and they'll kill her, too. Please!"
One of the men grimaced and glanced at his companion. The other man's features remained immobile.
Eric spoke to the first man. "You're a Terran -- a police officer! I trusted you! I came to you for help. Oh, please, don't turn me over to the Jils!"
"Shut up, kid," the man said tightly. "We've got no choice."
"They'll kill us!"
"Yeah, and I've got a boy just about your age, kid," the man said. "The Patrol'll kill him if we don't cooperate, so save your breath. We can't let you go."
"Shut up, Frank," the other man said.
Frank obeyed, his face becoming expressionless. There was silence, and again Eric wrenched at the bindings on his wrists. There was nothing he could do. These men wouldn't help him. He would be delivered to the Jilectans like so much merchandise, to be killed because of what he was. And when the Jilectans got him, the alien would read his mind and discover Ruthy and Elizabeth's whereabouts and send his flunkies to pick them up.
*Ruthy!* He found himself speaking her name in his mind over and over again. *Ruthy, they've got me, and when the Jil reads me they'll be coming after you! Get away from there! Get Elizabeth away!*
There was a soft hum and the door slid open. Two big, muscular men clad in the blue police uniforms entered, followed by the Police Captain.
"There he is, sir," Andrews said.
**********
tbc
