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623 lines
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO
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OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO"
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OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO'
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OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO
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OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO"
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OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO'
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OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO
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|---------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #112 |
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|---------------------------------------------------------------------------|
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- Flashback -
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by Tal Meta
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[The story you are about to read is based on actual events... sort of.]
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[I've changed alot of the names, to protect the Innocent & the GUILTY.]
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I knew something was wrong as soon as I awoke; the ceiling was too
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close. I felt odd, too - my feet weren't hitting the foot of the bed, and my
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eyes were much clearer than usual. When I stretched out a hand to touch the
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ceiling, I drew it back in horror... it wasn't mine.
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It was... milk-white, and mostly hairless. And SHORT. And it was
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wearing what looked like pajamas?
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I rolled out of bed; mistake #1. I plummeted a good five feet to the
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floor, landing in a heap. Bunk beds. As I looked around the room, I saw a
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variety of familiar and not-so-familiar things, most of which still stuck out
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of battered looking cardboard boxes, all of which tugged at the edges of my
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memory. Could it be?
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I searched the dresser for some clothes; the pajamas I was wearing
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were making me ill. (I hadn't worn ANYTHING to bed since I was... 14?) The
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clothing I had to choose from wasn't much better. The jeans looked
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comfortable, and I found a dark shirt. I made my way to what my memory
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insisted was the bathroom, and took a good long look in the mirror.
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Okay, I was me. But... I'd lost something on the order of a quarter
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century overnight. I barely recognized myself.... it was sad. The hair was
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passable, but I'd have to get it all cut off (I hadn't worn my hair combed
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that way in over a decade; the only way to cure it of that part was a
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buzzcut). The weight could be worked off, of course, but that'd take more
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time. But... but... NO BEARD! I almost sobbed. My pride and joy was gone, and
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wouldn't return for YEARS!
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While I was busy inspecting myself in the mirror and chattering to
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myself like a madman, the door to my bedroom opened and Lisa looked in.
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"Frankie, are you awake? Breakfast is almost ready." Seeing I was in the
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bathroom and already dressed, she came over to the doorway. "Are you feeling
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ok? You look like you've seen a ghost?" (Frankie? Nobody had called me THAT in
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years either; I'd had my name legally changed when I was 22.) Mulling over her
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words, I replied "I'm not feeling... right... this morning. I fell out of
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bed."
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"Are you okay? Did you hit your head?" she asked.
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"No, but I might have had some kind of nightmare. Umm, what year is
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it?" I was backpedaling, mentally, trying to deal with being here. Dumb
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question, Tal, really dumb.
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"What _year_? Its 1975, of course! C'mon out and get your breakfast,
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if you're up to it." she said as she was leaving.
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I sat down on the john and mulled -that- over. Yeah, '75 would be
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about right. I'd be... 10, if I was living with Lisa & my father. Good thing I
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was a sci-fi buff; a 'normal' person'd be having the heebie geebies by now.
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Like I wasn't.
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Breakfast went okay. Dad wasn't about, which was good; I hated him,
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and it would've been hard to hide it. Lisa was there though, a little slimmer
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than I remembered her, and Tammy (age three) was busily making a mess of her
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food. Nick (age 10 months) sat in his high-chair, sucking on a bottle... I
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felt a really strong sense of deja vous. I had to get out of here and think.
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Luckily it was Saturday... I had all day to think.
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A quick glance at the calendar told me the month, September. Hunting
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down a newspaper confirmed the date; the 6th. School would be starting this
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Monday, which was a relief; while my memory of the names of my friends &
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enemies in the 5th grade was reasonably intact, the faces were lost to the
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winds of time.
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I got my bike out of the garage and took off into the woods behind
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base housing. After riding an hour or so, I picked a spot near a stream to
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sort things out. For the life of me I couldn't figure out WHY I was here, much
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less how. But a few things I did know.
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Its 1975, and you're about a week past you're 10th birthday. You're
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overweight, out of shape, and in a new, strange place. If you'd paid more
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attention to stocks, sports scores, or some similar form of gambling, you'd be
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set to make a killing. Well, then again, I did know what the 'big' companies
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of the next few years would be... Intel, Adidas, any of the upstart LD
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companies, Sega, etc. But my major interests were always computers, sex, and
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writing...
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Hmm. While I was marginally sure Apple was producing PCs, the price of
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one was far beyond a navy brat. Writing was still open (come to think of it, I
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could write novels... especially ones the 'original' authors hadn't penned
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yet). And sex...
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Well, that was another subject. I was bald down there... except for
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two little hairs. Something about that phrase rang bells in my mind, although
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I couldn't for the life of me attach it to anything. My brain seemed
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unimaginably clear otherwise, most likely the result of it not simmering in a
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sea of hormones. But I had gathered an awful lot of 'learned reactions' in the
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25 'other' years of my life. The women I was likely to be interested in
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weren't going to give a fat, prepubescent kid a second look.
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I spent some time trying to imagine what lie ahead of me here... Star
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Wars was still being filmed. Disco was coming. Telephones still used crossbar
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switching... hmm.
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I started laughing out loud. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, after all.
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If nothing else, the music of this period had always been among my
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favorites...
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---
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The next week dragged its way along about the way you'd expect. I met
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'new' friends, and encountered a few 'old' enemies. Some took each others
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place; it was unreasonable to expect that the person I was now had the same
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interests & attitudes I'd had at the age of ten. Classes were tedious as hell,
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as was to be expected. I kept thinking I should just go and take a GED exam,
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and get the whole farce behind me, but school at least offered a diversion,
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and got me out of the house. I could spend the day musing to myself, as there
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were virtually no questions old Mrs. Proudfoot could ask me that I couldn't
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answer, often with more detail than they put in measly 5th grade textbooks.
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One sort of pleasant surprise was Moira. She was more or less the
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'class welcoming committee' (self appointed, of course). She latched onto me
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the third day, and proclaimed herself my girlfriend. Okay. I remembered doing
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my level best to drive her off the last time I was 10 - I'd had no interest in
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girls. This time I had a purely technical interest in her... and just how much
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of who I thought I was tied into my hormone level.
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After quite a bit of fumbling about, I pretty much decided that maybe
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it was all hormone related. I dropped her shortly thereafter. I had better
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games to play.
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---
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The next weekend, my father proposed a trip to the shore. This
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promised to be quite interesting, especially since I'd spent nearly half of my
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life living there (even if I hadn't lived that half yet). On the way, he
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brought up the subject of my allowance - something that I'd remembered from
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before. I easily agreed to his 'savings plan', but suggested a new one of my
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own, namely that I'd like to get an equal amount of money to purchase stocks
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with the provision that I be allowed to choose the stocks. He seemed genuinely
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touched that I was thinking 'that far ahead' for my future, and agreed. I
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silently mused that he didn't know the half of it.
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Once we reached Seaside, I drifted off from the rest of the family and
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went wandering. The town had changed a great deal, or failed to change, or
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something like that. I visited the lumberyard where I'd worked for eight
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years, and the apartment where my wife and I had conceived and raised our
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daughter until the divorce had torn us apart. Everything looked so familiar,
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yet so strange.
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Venturing towards the north end of town, I began to feel more and more
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anxious. Something was drawing me forward, something else pulling me back. The
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radio in my hand began playing a song I'd heard maybe a dozen times before,
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but somehow hadn't really listened too.
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The words of the 10cc ballad _I'm not in Love_ hit me full in the face
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as I walked to the spot where I'd gotten my first real kiss. It had been 'our'
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song, sort of, almost as if in sympathy to the love we'd felt for each other
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for so long and had tried to deny. I could almost feel the November night we'd
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at last let our passion run free.
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Almost as suddenly, I knew why I was here. 1975! Of course! I had...
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three months.
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---
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My father & Lisa probably couldn't help noticing that I was just a
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little more than odd; but happily therapy for children had yet to become big
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business. I kept to myself as much as possible, avoiding the television (it
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was all just re-runs, to me), and playing the radio constantly. The majority
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of my toys stayed in their boxes... except the ones Tammy wanted. My toys
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became a soldering iron and an assemblage of wires and transistors. My parents
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gave me strange looks, but left me alone. What was the harm?
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AM radio was still 'the' thing; WABC in NY still played pop, as the
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DJs there wouldn't be canned for payola and drug abuse for another 3-4 years.
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The music they played seemed to immerse me more and more into this era... I
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began to forget little things about my old life, although I fought to retain
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some of them. I supplemented my allowance income with petty theft; a small
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child could get into the most interesting places if he was canny enough. I
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knew that my parent's marriage was already basically over - Lisa would be
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leaving him and pulling Tammy & Nick out of the house within another couple of
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months - February at the latest.
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So I bugged their room. It wasn't exactly difficult, given the right
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parts, and I'd become an expert at alleviating people of their small
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electronics. Their fights were almost as amusing as their occasional
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lovemaking; what kid hasn't wanted to know exactly what is being said about
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them? With me, it was a matter of survival.
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I joined the Boy Scouts a mere week after the Seaside trip, much
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quicker than I remember joining the last time. I made a big show about wanting
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all kinds of camping equipment, which my father grudgingly bought for me...
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Lisa was pleasantly surprised to find me taking an interest in clothing;
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although the camouflage clothing I'd hoped to be able to purchase wasn't yet
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in style. I settled for alot of both black and white clothing... and some dye.
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There was a method to my madness, of course...
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My next 'crusade' involved my dog, Lady. When I'd moved in with my
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father originally, it'd been on the condition that I had to leave her in my
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mother's care... where she eventually wound up on death row in some pound
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somewhere. Not this time, Clyde. I begged, pleaded, and otherwise emulated the
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kid I was supposed to be. After about 3 weeks of this (longer than I'd had the
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stamina for previously) they gave in and Lady joined me in my exile.
|
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||
In a strange sort of way, I'd almost swear Lady knew something was
|
||
different about me. She didn't shy away from me or anything, but she did look
|
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at me and whine pitifully alot. She and I spent alot of time after school and
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on the weekends roaming the woods on and off base, getting to know one another
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all over again. Some nights I'd bundle up and sneak onto the base... I'd pick
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one of the abandoned airship landing areas and lie on my back, gazing at the
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stars...
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And trying to sense HER. There had always been a bond between us,
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almost from the first day we'd met in 8th grade; an instant, electric
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||
_knowing_ that no matter how different we were from other people, we were the
|
||
same as each other. Call it telepathy, call it soul-mates... we were, in at
|
||
least that one way, a single person from that day forward, no matter how hard
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we tried to deny it.
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But she wasn't there at the back of my mind... except in memory.
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---
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The next couple of weeks rolled by uneventfully enough. By monitoring
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dad & Lisa's conversations after I'd gone to bed at night, I learned what
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parts of my room were subject to random parental searches, as well as the
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combination to my father's strongbox. The searches didn't bother me much; I'd
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had more years of collective paranoia behind me than the two of them had in
|
||
parenting put together... they never came close to where I had anything hidden
|
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in that house. The strongbox, however, DID interest me, because it held some
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papers that I'd always wanted to see... namely, my original birth certificate,
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the one the hospital had completed before I'd been adopted.
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'Daniel Meyers'? Ugh. Not that it was any worse than the name mom &
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dad had given me, of course... I simply couldn't imagine being a 'Dan'.
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Another surprise was a handgun I'd never known my father had owned... this
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would save me the trouble of stealing one of the ones our neighbor the SP
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owned. The parent's had gone out to dinner and a movie that night, and despite
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my protestations had hired the aforementioned neighbor's daughter Natalie to
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'baby-sit' my half-siblings and my wayward self....
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Natalie was perhaps 14, and just beginning to blossom into womanhood.
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I dimly recalled secretly mooning over her the last time I'd passed this way,
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but had been too... proud? scared? whatever to admit to it. This time around,
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I decided to have some fun with it.
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---
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"Will you quit looking at me like that Frankie? You're giving me the
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creeps." she said, as I settled down across the room from her, partially
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blocking her view of a TV show that for me was older than she was.
|
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"But I like looking at you, Nat. It makes me feel good inside." I
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quipped back, in the best 'innocent' voice I could muster without laughing out
|
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loud. As I said this, I rose up and crossed the room, sitting down next to her
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on the couch.
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||
|
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"Isn't it your bedtime yet?" she asked, somewhat uncomfortable at how
|
||
close I was sitting. "Nope," I replied, snuggling up close to her, "don't have
|
||
a bedtime on Friday nights."
|
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|
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I sat there for a few moments, letting the tension build up. I could
|
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FEEL her growing uncomfortable, deep in the back of my mind; the mental
|
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gymnastics I'd been engaging in trying to contact my other half hadn't born
|
||
the fruit I'd hoped, but they had brought back the empathy I'd always enjoyed
|
||
as an adolescent and an adult. Unnerved as she was, there was something, a
|
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tingling at the back of her mind, a single spark that I reached out and fanned
|
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into a flame...
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|
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Tentatively, I reached out one of my hands and brushed against her
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right breast. The quick suck of air she took told me I was right on target,
|
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and I imagined I could feel the nipple stiffening in response. She slapped my
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hand away, naturally, even as I put on a mock-frightened expression and asked
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in a decent falsetto voice "Did that hurt? I didn't know that would hurt! I
|
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was just curious!"
|
||
|
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I watched her expression change as I drove my will deeper and deeper
|
||
into her own subconscious; a feat the adolescent or adult 'me' would never
|
||
have had the concentration to accomplish under these circumstances. I was a
|
||
bit surprised at my own strength of will; I had always believed before that I
|
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was strong, but with the clarity of this body's brain, I was simply amazing.
|
||
|
||
"No, it didn't hurt," she replied, softening a little, "in fact, it
|
||
felt kind of good. I'm sorry if I frightened you." As she twisted around to
|
||
face me, I reached out my hand again. "Can.. can I touch it?" I asked quietly,
|
||
holding her eyes with my own. "Sure." I stretched out my hand, and gently
|
||
cupped her breast. I swirled my thumb over the nipple I could now feel through
|
||
the fabric of her clothes, all the while holding her eyes with mine, and
|
||
insinuating myself deeper and deeper into her mind with my own. "Here," she
|
||
said, her hands moving as if in a dream, "let me show you."
|
||
|
||
Her pupils were dilated all the way, making her eyes shine like a
|
||
cat's. All of her movements had taken on a distinctly dreamlike quality.
|
||
Somewhere in the back of her mind she was beginning to sense how wrong this
|
||
was, that she shouldn't be unbuttoning her blouse and unhooking her bra... but
|
||
my eyes and mind held her tightly, soothing away and qualms she had about her
|
||
actions. Part of me wished that I had the level of physical maturity to put
|
||
this to good use, but the lack of any activity in my loins reminded me that
|
||
sex is not always a function of mental maturity. Oh well. The test had been
|
||
enlightening.
|
||
|
||
When she had finished removing her blouse and bra, I reached out with
|
||
both hands and tweaked her breasts like a pair of squeeze toys. "Honk! Honk!"
|
||
I cried, as I released her mind and emotions from my thrall and jumped back on
|
||
the couch, watching with interest as she came back to herself, and realized
|
||
her predicament. The look on her face was priceless; the sound she made
|
||
inarticulate. She fled from the couch crying, desperately trying to cover
|
||
herself and reassert her authority. "What? How? GO TO YOUR ROOM YOU LITTLE
|
||
BASTARD!"
|
||
|
||
As I skipped off to my room, I realized that my sole regret was that
|
||
I'd neglected to take some photos.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
November came quicker than I'd expected; I guess even living in a
|
||
child's body did nothing to slow my sense of time rushing by. By the time my
|
||
father's birthday came around on the 24th, I knew that time was growing
|
||
shorter and shorter for me - my other half had the same birthday... she was
|
||
eleven now, and when the first snows fell, it might already be too late.
|
||
|
||
I gave my father a copy of Heinlein's _Stranger in a Strange Land_. For
|
||
his birthday. I thought it somehow appropriate.
|
||
|
||
I'd developed quite a storehouse of stolen and purchased goods in the
|
||
back of our garage, and the time was coming when I'd have to decide what went
|
||
and what stayed. I added some fishing gear to the mix, and dropped the
|
||
dogfood. I began filching spices and such; I had no idea how long of a wait I
|
||
had ahead of me. I grabbed my father's .38 the next chance I got, and added it
|
||
to my stash.
|
||
|
||
December 1st was a Monday. I made like I was going off to school like
|
||
any other day, but snuck back to the garage and gathered my equipment. It
|
||
being a school day, I knew I was running a gauntlet... but then again, I
|
||
already knew the terrain. Gathering up Lady and my bike, I headed towards the
|
||
back gate of Lakehurst NAS and rode across the airship fields to the front
|
||
gate; so far so good. I dodged the front gate, however, and headed towards the
|
||
stream that flowed along the north side; there was a gap in the fence there. I
|
||
had no objections to them knowing I'd gone ON the base, I just didn't want
|
||
anyone knowing where or if I'd LEFT the base.
|
||
|
||
Once onto the road was the most dangerous part; a kid and a dog riding
|
||
along the highway at this time of day would probably get noticed, but I
|
||
wouldn't be there for long. A few hundred yards brought me across the county
|
||
road into Jackson, and I quickly turned down a street I knew well, having
|
||
lived on it for close to five years 'before'. Lady panted as she tried to keep
|
||
up, and when at last we passed the house I 'used' to live in and burrowed into
|
||
the woods I finally let up the pace.
|
||
|
||
I got off the trail I knew oh-so-well and went about 30 feet into the
|
||
brush, and turned over a forgotten piece of plywood lying there. Mice had
|
||
gotten to the oiled canvas sack I'd hidden some food in, but they couldn't get
|
||
inside the cans. I rode along the trail until it crossed the railroad tracks,
|
||
then set off along the tracks into the sand pits. I could have gotten to the
|
||
point I was seeking by an easier route on foot, but the sand would have
|
||
required me to walk the bike.
|
||
|
||
It took almost an hour to traverse the sand pits; some of the trails I
|
||
'remembered' hadn't been made yet. But the back gate to the place was usually
|
||
open, and I lost no time crossing the street again and hitting more trails.
|
||
Technically, this was a more dangerous trek than the Base had been; the
|
||
Jackson middle & high schools lay between me and my goal, as did the police
|
||
department. Hunting down a phone booth, I grabbed the page I needed, and slunk
|
||
back down an embankment to check the data against my map.
|
||
|
||
She had moved to Jackson after I had; she'd lived in New Egypt prior
|
||
to that. While I'd passed through New Egypt a hundred times, and had a general
|
||
idea where she'd lived, exact data was lacking. However, the phone book was
|
||
most informative, listing not only a number but an address for her father's
|
||
construction business.
|
||
|
||
Over the next several hours and miles, I disassembled my bike and
|
||
buried the pieces as best I could. I wouldn't be needing it anymore, and just
|
||
leaving it somewhere would tell them where to start searching. Old skills,
|
||
learned while I was in the Air Force, came back into focus.
|
||
|
||
It was Escape & Evasion time.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
I spent most of the next day slowly making my way into New Egypt. If
|
||
it had been summer, or even spring, I could have used the myriad streams as my
|
||
trails, but in the chill December air, I wasn't so foolish. Lady caught a
|
||
rabbit that afternoon, and after a couple of false starts I successfully got
|
||
it skinned and cooked it over the small fire I allowed myself that night.
|
||
|
||
The next day I finally reached my 'goal'. Her family's house wasn't
|
||
large, but it was set back off the road far enough for me to scout it out
|
||
without much fear of discovery. After locating her place, it was simple enough
|
||
to find her uncle's house; its proximity to the other road and the barn were
|
||
clear giveaways. I didn't waste any time that night sneaking inside that barn
|
||
and placing the first of my bugs... cold as it was it could snow any day now.
|
||
I also bugged her uncle's porch, and her own living room (by crawling under
|
||
the house and boring a small hole in one of the heating ducts.)
|
||
|
||
Snow didn't come quickly, not for nearly 2 weeks. I spent those two
|
||
weeks setting up 'housekeeping'. I had had alot of angst over what sort of
|
||
shelter I should create... one on the ground would be prone to moisture, but
|
||
one built up in a tree would be harder to hide and more subject to drafts.
|
||
Eventually I opted for one on the ground, after I'd found the almost perfect
|
||
spot. Any fires I built I built far away from my hiding place; secrecy was
|
||
more important now than convenience.
|
||
|
||
The light dusting of that first snowfall left me anxious as hell. I
|
||
couldn't very well tie Lady up anyplace, because she'd bark. I sat in a tree
|
||
about a hundred yards away from her uncle's porch, listening to the bug I'd
|
||
placed there, waiting for the exchange I knew was eventually coming. But it
|
||
never came. The first time my binoculars picked up her face, I nearly fell out
|
||
of my tree, though. Her dog and Lady were chasing each other around the yard,
|
||
a problem I couldn't fix without revealing myself.
|
||
|
||
According to the radio, I was given up for lost. The police and the
|
||
National Guard had searched the base and the woods all around it, but had yet
|
||
to reveal any hint of where I'd gone. I hadn't left any notes explaining where
|
||
I was going, so the police were treating it as a kidnapping. If they'd noticed
|
||
my camping gear missing, nobody on the radio was talking about it, nor had
|
||
they mentioned the missing gun.
|
||
|
||
Eventually, the snow melted, and I began to wonder what the hell I was
|
||
doing out here. Maybe it never happened? Would she have lied to me about that?
|
||
I didn't believe it. I knuckled down and endured the dreary routine of
|
||
checking my snares, hunting for rabbits and foxes with Lady, and enduring the
|
||
bitter nights with Lady curled up inside my sleeping bag for warmth.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
Four days later, I had a new problem. My supply of batteries was
|
||
running out, and looking the way I did, going to the store to buy more was out
|
||
of the question. I hadn't bathed in weeks; I had a layer of general mud and
|
||
soot all over my exposed flesh, and my clothes weren't in much better shape.
|
||
Oh, I had several changes of clothes, but air drying them took alot of time so
|
||
I usually didn't bother. After all, I'd stopped noticing the smell long ago.
|
||
|
||
One quiet afternoon I was fishing at a small pond where the fish were
|
||
nearly always biting, and was just pulling the third one out of my hole in the
|
||
ice when I heard Lady barking. She'd wandered off about an hour before, so I
|
||
was expecting her return. When I heard another dog barking, I didn't attach
|
||
much to it; Lady was a sociable dog, and had befriended most of the local dogs
|
||
over the past few weeks. But when I heard a half-familiar voice say "Hi!" I
|
||
almost shot out of my skin.
|
||
|
||
It was a moment of truth, sort of. I considered running for it, but my
|
||
legs weren't with me for that one. I turned around slowly, almost fearfully.
|
||
We stood there, neither of us speaking, as we examined one another. She was
|
||
pink almost to the color of white chocolate, with long golden hair spilling
|
||
down her back. A pair of black earmuffs sat on her head. Lady and her dog
|
||
chased one another in circles between us, and she must have seen the
|
||
trepidation on my face as I tried to think of something to say. In the
|
||
reflection from her glasses I could see myself, swaddled in a bleached white
|
||
fatigue jacket four sizes to large, with both it and myself covered with
|
||
grime. Not a pretty sight.
|
||
|
||
"I see you've caught some fish. This is the best place for it," she
|
||
said, making her way down the bank towards me. "Can't you talk?" she asked, as
|
||
the tension in my own throat grew stronger and stronger.
|
||
|
||
"Sure, I can talk." I managed to say, while trying to gather up my
|
||
catch. "I just wasn't expecting to see anyone out here." "Why not?" she asked,
|
||
"I just live a half-mile down the trail. Do you live around here?" "No," I
|
||
evaded, "I'm just passing through on my way to Canada."
|
||
|
||
In the back of my mind, I could feel it forming... the link that had
|
||
bound us together in that previous life. As much as I craved it, I fought
|
||
against it, trying to block her from seeing the lies I was telling. "Canada?
|
||
That's a long ways away. Why do you want to go to Canada?" "My Grandpa lives
|
||
there. I have to get moving." As I made my way back up the bank, I tried to
|
||
get Lady to heel, but she was having too much fun with the other dog to pay
|
||
any attention to me. I whipped around and decided that the damage was done.
|
||
"Look, you can't tell anyone you've seen me here." I pleaded, "Some very bad
|
||
people are after me, and I have to stay hidden. Promise me you'll tell nobody
|
||
about seeing me?"
|
||
|
||
"I promise." she said. "Do you need anything? I could bring you some
|
||
food, if I knew where you were staying..." "That's alright, I can catch enough
|
||
food to get by... there is something that I need though." I said, remembering
|
||
my one predicament. "What's that?" she asked, snapping a leash around her
|
||
dog's neck. "Batteries. I have money, I just can't risk going into a store."
|
||
I said, pushing a wad of bills at her.
|
||
|
||
"What kind of batteries?" she asked. "Eight C-cells and six 9-volts.
|
||
This should be plenty... keep the change." I replied. "Okay. It might take me
|
||
a day or two though. Where can I find you?" "Right here." I fished a plastic
|
||
bag out of one of my pockets, and handed it to her. "Just put the batteries
|
||
in this bag, and leave them under this log here. I'll find them."
|
||
|
||
"You sure are secretive." she said, smiling. "I have to be, if I want
|
||
to remain free." I replied, touching her hand briefly. Both of us shivered
|
||
with that, but not from the cold. {You're like me} I heard her thinking, so I
|
||
replied out loud "exactly like you. But you can't tell ANYONE about me,
|
||
understand?"
|
||
|
||
Two days later, the batteries appeared, along with a short note, and
|
||
some cookies. She'd baked them herself. Feeling particularly wary, I took the
|
||
long way around back to my shelter, for no other reason than obstinence. Later
|
||
that night I spent time replacing all of the batteries in my bugs. And in my
|
||
tape recorder.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
|
||
The next day, (January 28th), it snowed. Schools were closed, and
|
||
everyone was at home. I sat in my chosen tree, about 100 yards from her
|
||
uncle's barn. She was there, with her brother, and her cousin Roger. I could
|
||
feel a tension growing in my chest, as flashes of memory not even my own
|
||
replayed the events I was sure would happen today. I pressed my altered walkie
|
||
talkie against my ear, waiting for the exchange of words I was sure was
|
||
coming. "Hamburger is hurt, Michele. He's bleeding to death in the barn..."
|
||
Roger was talking, trying to get Michele to go to the barn, alone, with him.
|
||
(Hamburger was a cow, I should mention.)
|
||
|
||
As I heard the words crackle over the radio, I was already descending
|
||
the tree. By the time I reached the barn, her little brother Louis was already
|
||
dropping the padlock into its latch, sealing them inside. He never heard me
|
||
coming... the stout tree branch I'd grabbed along the way caught him on the
|
||
left side of his head and he went down hard. I didn't care if he ever got up.
|
||
|
||
Not bothering to search Louis for the key, I crawled through the very
|
||
window I'd been told he'd originally used to join Roger inside for the
|
||
"special game" he was going to teach him. Michele was already screaming inside
|
||
the storage room at the back of the barn, giving Roger the fight of his life.
|
||
I slipped the pistol I'd carried for so long out of my pocket, and stepped into
|
||
the light streaming from the doorway.
|
||
|
||
Roger was on top of Michele, struggling to get her pants off as she
|
||
twisted, bit, and clawed him with all her might. I cocked the hammer of the
|
||
pistol back as I stood there watching, knowing that without Louis's help, all
|
||
of this might turn out differently, whether I fired or not. But Roger must
|
||
have noticed me standing there, and when his eyes met mine, I thrust every
|
||
ounce of hatred and contempt I had right into his forebrain. I poured it on...
|
||
and as i watched, his face went from furious, violent lust to stark, raving
|
||
madness, and fear.
|
||
|
||
He made a sound I can only describe as a howl. He practically
|
||
levitated off of Michele's body, and as soon as she rolled free of him, I
|
||
began firing.
|
||
|
||
The first shot I put just above his groin; my hands were shaking.
|
||
|
||
The next one caught him right where I wanted it, and turned his
|
||
reproductive organs into mush.
|
||
|
||
I tried to put the third one into his open mouth, but I missed again.
|
||
|
||
The fourth shot missed as well.
|
||
|
||
The next two shots caught him in the forehead and right cheek. Bone
|
||
and brain tissue sprayed the wall behind him, and he slowly slumped to the
|
||
floor.
|
||
|
||
I must have stood there, still trying to fire the empty pistol for a
|
||
minute or two. Finally Michele put her hand on my arm and pushed it down. I
|
||
think I began crying, then. My whole body was shaking like it wanted to fly
|
||
apart.
|
||
|
||
I felt her presence in my mind, like a butterfly landing on a leaf.
|
||
The rage all seemed to drain away, then, as I gazed upon the broken body of
|
||
the man (or boy, really; he was only 16) who had raped her, in the life I'd
|
||
left behind. He'd failed. He'd never gotten the chance to use the knife I saw
|
||
hanging on the wall a few feet away, the knife whose wound had left Michele
|
||
incapable of ever bearing children. Even if we didn't find the love we'd found
|
||
in that other life, I'd won a victory more precious than any I could imagine.
|
||
|
||
Sirens were beginning to sound in the distance. The police would be
|
||
here soon, and I supposed I'd have to tell them something. Funny - in all the
|
||
weeks I'd had to reach this point, I'd never given any thought to THAT
|
||
problem. I had the whole sequence of events in this room on tape; I'd covered
|
||
THAT base, at least. If I'd failed, I'd have used that to make him pay.
|
||
|
||
Oh well. Something would come to me. It always did.
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
|
||
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