Slideways

by Jeffrey Grode

  Ruth picked up her sleeping bag and guided him back to Lori’s red VW. A shiver ran through him, and she squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just us.” They slunk into the back seat and giggled.

  Chapter 24

  Ben woke as a loud whine zipped past Lori’s red VW. Squirming upright in the front passenger seat, he watched Ken Donner cut a swath of grass along the drive toward the house. Tuesday in Tampton, UAC. Ben scratched himself, and found he wore silky pink panties. How did— Oh, yea. His eyes turned to the back seat where Ruth slept. Only her head protruded from her pink sleeping bag.

  She looked angelic with her blonde hair swept over her forehead, eyes closed, and pouty red lips. Ruth had been so kind to him. She’d lifted his spirits in a world determined to turn him upside down and slideways. He smiled knowing he’d remember her, and last night, for the rest of his life.

  Ben snagged his clothes from the floor of the back seat and dressed. His bladder ached. He left the car to wiz behind a large willow tree. The branches hung down and around him like long green snakes. While under the tree, he noticed a dark path that led into the misty woods.

  Ben finished, crawled back into the car, and closed the door. Ruth sat up and squinted at him. In the strong morning light, he saw through Ruth’s makeup to the rash of tiny pimples just beneath. The slight imperfection made her seem more real.

  “Good morning, Princess.”

  “Good morning, Charlie Horse. Sleep well?”

  “I am a little stiff.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “No doubt.” She smiled and raised her eyebrow. “You’ll just have to wait.” Ruth peered over his shoulder. “Looks like we have company.”

  Ben turned his head and saw a dark haired pregnant woman walking hand-in-hand with a two year old girl. The woman was dark, thin, in her mid-twenties, and pretty. They approached the VW.

  She knocked on the driver’s window, opened the door, and smiled. “Good morning. You must be Ruth and Charlie. I’m Zhing, Ken’s wife, and this is our daughter, Bridget.” The little girl tried to climb into the driver’s seat, but her mother restrained her.

  “Hello.” Ben blushed.

  “Good morning.” Ruth’s voice seemed a little high. “What a little sweetie.” She held the sleeping bag tight against her chest.

  Zhing’s eyes swept past Ruth’s scattered clothes on the back seat. “Your friends are awake, and breakfast is almost ready. Please come inside when you’re able.”

  “Thank you. We’ll be right in,” Ruth said.

  As Zhing and little Bridget returned toward the house, Ben eyed Ruth. “That was awkward.”

  “Yes, but she was very gracious. I like her.” She wrinkled her brow. “Should we go inside?”

  “Sure. Let’s be gracious too. I’m hungry.” Ben climbed out of the car.

  “Give me a few minutes, Darlin’. I’ll be right with you.” She gathered her clothes and dressed in the car.

  As they walked to the house, Ruth held his hand. The lawn mower ceased its electric whine behind the house. Zhing met them at the front door, and the familiar scent of bacon and eggs made him feel a little better about this world. Ruth and Ben removed their shoes, and Zhing ushered them into the kitchen where Lori and Jack sat at a small wooden table.

  Zhing carried Bridget upstairs to change her diaper.

  Lori raised her eyebrows. “Good morning.” Her eyes searched theirs.

  “Yes it is,” Ruth said. “Where can I wash up?”

  “I’ll show you,” Lori said. Ruth followed Lori upstairs.

  Ben couldn’t stop smiling.

  Jack raised his eyebrow. “You okay?”

  Ben leaned toward Jack. “I’m good. Best night ever.”

  “Sleep much?” Jack asked, looking a little wary.

  “Some.” He grinned. “You?”

  “Some. Hey, ah, did you . . . ?”

  “Yep.”

  “First time?”

  “Yep. It was awesome!”

  “Did you take precautions?”

  “No, ahhh, Ruth said she said she had an implant and it wouldn’t be a problem. Right?” Ben scratched his head.

  “It’s 100% effective if each partner has an implant. Do you have one?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Okay, with just her implant, the odds go down to 95%. You gotta be careful, Bro.” Jack backhanded Ben lightly on the chest.

  “Hey,” Ben yelped, feeling his shirt. Something wasn’t right. The portal watch he kept around his neck was gone. His chest tightened. Did I leave it in the car?

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “You may be my brother from an off-world mother, but these are my friends. Where will you be if Ruth ends up pregnant?”

  “Shhh. Ok, I hear you. Sorry.” This Jack seemed even more like his brother. He’d forgotten about the mini-lectures.

  “Hey guys,” Ken said, as he walked into the room. He grabbed Ben’s chin, and moved it left exposing his neck. “Wicked hickey. Good luck explaining that to your mom.”

  Ben rubbed his neck. Shit. That’s what she was doing.

  Ken eyed Jack. “I didn’t expect the extra company last night.”

  Jack grimaced. “Sorry. Wasn’t planned.”

  Ken nodded. “Everybody okay?”

  “We’re good,” Lori said, as she and Ruth stepped into the room. “Sorry for crashing without notice. We’ll take the boys back to Carlston after breakfast.”

  Zhing called down the stairs for Ken, and he excused himself.

  Lori met Ben’s eyes and raised her right eyebrow. She seemed concerned for him.

  He smiled. I’m okay.

  Lori returned the smile and sat next to Jack.

  Ruth flipped her hair back, grabbed it with both hands, and tied her golden locks into a pony tail.

  Ben watched enchanted, until he saw his shoelace tied around her neck. A slight bulge betrayed the hidden portal watch beneath her blouse. Oh, shit.

  Ruth beamed at Ben.

  “Need to wash up,” Ben said. “Be right back.” He ran up the stairs to the bathroom.

  When he returned, he sat in the unoccupied chair between Ruth and Lori. Breakfast included scrambled eggs, French toast, vegetarian bacon, and sliced cantaloupe. Bridget sat like a hungry princess in her high chair. The errant Cheery-Oats were no match for her growing dexterity.

  Ruth looked at Ken. “May I say grace?”

  “Of course.” Ken motioned for her to start.

  Ruth thanked God for the food, friendship, family, and the beautiful day. She thanked Ken and Zhing for their hospitality, and Ken for his bravery and assistance. Finally, she thanked the Green Apostle for his wisdom.

  During the prayer, Ben raised an eyebrow when she held his hand. Ruth seemed ten times nicer than the Rouge he knew on Earth, but he still felt anxious. He’d feel better once he retrieved his watch and grandfather and returned home. Ruth would be safer too.

  Chapter 25

  When John arrived in Carmichael, he sped on Route 99 toward Patrick’s house. He found the driveway blocked by a squad car, and several vehicles with U.S. government plates parked along the side of the road. After parking his truck near a government van, he approached the squad car on foot. Two Sheriff’s deputies stopped him, neither of whom was Louis.

  “Yes, sir. How can we help you?” said the shorter thicker deputy. His hands moved shoulder high and apart and blocked John’s path.

  “I’m John Fuller. I’m here to find my son, Ben. He stayed over with my father-in-law, Patrick McDugan, at the house.” John gestured up the hill.

  The deputy cleared his throat. “The house is off limits until we process the crime scene.”

  John read the man’s name plate. Sawmill. “Yes, I heard about the burglary. Is Louis here? I’d like to speak with him.”

  Deputy Sawmill glanced at his partner who stood six-foot-four with crossed arms. John read his nameplate. Daniels.

  “Louis Dauphine is no longer on this case,” Daniels s
aid.

  “Where is he?” John tilted his head.

  “Getting patched up at the hospital. Took a bullet to the shoulder.”

  “Bullet? What happened? I want to know if my son is okay!” John growled in a voice he hadn’t used since he worked guard duty in Iraq.

  “Sir. The investigation is under Federal jurisdiction now. Please stay here while I speak with Sheriff Banks. He’s up at the house.” Daniels slid into the squad car and made a call.

  Sawmill stepped toward John. “Louis is your cousin, right?”

  John let out a breath. “Yes. Is he okay?”

  “Yea. He’s out of the ICU, but he’ll need time to heal. Look, your son and Mr. McDugan didn’t stay at the house last night. We don’t know where they are now, but we’re searching for them.” Sawmill grew quiet as Daniels emerged from the car.

  “Mr. Fuller, the Sheriff wants me to bring you up on the condition you do not touch anything. The FBI is processing the crime scene.” Daniels raised his eyebrows. “Do you agree?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I understand.”

  As they walked up the steep drive to the house, John saw nine agents with the FBI logo on their jackets. Half of them combed the area for evidence, while others stood sentry around the property holding semi-automatic rifles. Around the back of the house, a spray of bullet holes had Swiss-cheesed the aluminum siding. Spent brass lay scattered in the grass with little white flags marking the location of each casing. Further back, yellow tape demarcated a spot where the grass lay flattened and bloody. Somebody died there.

  John scanned the perimeter and saw armed agents in the woods off to the right. More flags and yellow tape fluttered by the tree line. Two canines worked the property.

  Daniels escorted John onto the back deck. Sheriff Banks wore a tan uniform, stood six feet tall, and had a nose streaked with prominent blood vessels. Near Banks stood a taller man wearing a dark blue FBI jacket and sunglasses. The FBI agent appeared middle-aged and had a large forehead framed beneath a receding hairline.

  “Mr. Fuller,” Banks said as he shook John’s hand. “Good to meet you.” He gestured toward the FBI agent. “This is Special-Agent-in-Charge Mike Miller with the FBI.”

  Agent Miller and John shook hands. “We’re doing everything we can to find your son and Mr. McDugan. The FBI has the lead on this case after last night’s events. Please, let’s go inside for the briefing.”

  “Thank you both.” John stepped into the kitchen and hesitated. A black cat with white feet, wearing a pink collar and nametag, drank water from a bowl on the floor. A bowl of dry cat food sat next to the water. John didn’t think Patrick owned a cat, or remember seeing those bowls on the floor Sunday night. They matched the soup bowls in Patrick’s cupboard.

  “This way, Mr. Fuller. Don’t worry, we’re taking good care of Bootsie,” Banks said. “Deputy Sawmill brought the cat food from home.”

  John’s eyes opened wide when he saw the contents of the living room scattered across the floor. Someone had made a huge mess. Banks directed him into the dining room where they sat at an oblong table. Miller sat at the head as an additional man and woman joined them.

  Miller cleared his throat to gain everyone’s attention. “These are Agents Lovitsky and Gendrick. They’re working the case and will interview you, but first, let me tell you what we know. Please understand this information must be kept confidential until we’re finished with the investigation. Do you understand Mr. Fuller?”

  “Yes, sir. I do.” John had experience working military investigations years ago as an MP.

  “Good. We have no information regarding the current whereabouts of Ben, or Dr. McDugan. We believe they left, or were taken, sometime Monday morning.”

  Taken? John’s pulse fluttered in his neck. He took a deep breath and listened. These men and women were here to help.

  Miller continued. “There appears to have been a struggle in the basement and possible shots fired. We found a small amount of blood splattered on the basement floor near the bottom of the steps and at the center of the room. After searching the house, it became obvious the house was turned upside down by intruders looking for valuables, or something specific.

  “Your son’s suitcase and personal effects are still in the guest bedroom. Patrick and Ben had left without leaving a note, were not seen on public transportation, and missed yesterday’s doctor’s appointment. They were either in a hurry, under duress, or kidnapped.”

  John’s stomach clenched. “I don’t understand. Why would anyone take them?” Please God, watch over my son.

  Miller nodded at Lovitsky.

  Agent Lovitsky activated a tape recorder. “Mr. Fuller, are you aware of any reason why someone would want to kidnap your son, or Patrick McDugan?”

  “No, none at all. Ben is only fifteen years old and his grandfather is semi-retired.”

  “Did anyone call you or your wife with a request for ransom?”

  “No. We don’t have much money. Why would anyone want to kidnap Ben?”

  “Are you familiar with the work Dr. McDugan does for the DOD?” Agent Gendrick prodded. She tapped her pen on her lip.

  “No. Patrick didn’t talk about his projects. He told us a long time ago they’re classified. Something to do with communication.”

  “Did you know he had a private laboratory in his basement?” Gendrick asked.

  “Yes. He worked down there on some personal hobby, but he kept it to himself.”

  Gendrick nodded. “Are you familiar with Dr. Phylo Caliban?”

  John blinked. “I met him a few times. Patrick once worked for him at DOD, but Caliban is Homeland Security now. Why?”

  “Just following up on a lead,” she said, “Did he have access to Patrick’s lab?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How often did he visit Patrick?”

  John shrugged. “Don’t know. He and Patrick play golf from time to time.”

  “Have you been down in Patrick’s basement recently?”

  “No, he always kept it locked. Besides, I had no reason to go down there. Patrick is a mechanical and electrical engineer. He didn’t need me to change a fuse or check on the furnace.”

  “C’mon John. He’s your father-in-law.” She pointed her finger at him. “You didn’t know, or care, what he did in his basement laboratory?”

  John glared at Agent Gendrick, shook his head, and turned to Miller. “She one of yours?”

  “Agent Gendrick is a DOD investigator.” Miller frowned. “We’ll take a look at the basement in a few minutes, but let’s move on to last night’s event. Agent Lovitsky?”

  Lovitsky used his iPad to show John detailed photographic evidence: photos of a dead intruder; an automatic rifle; shell casings; and enough human and vehicular tracks in the nearby woods to show it had been used as a staging area for men and equipment. Lovitsky also showed him a picture of the intruder’s tattoo, which resembled a barcode. He didn’t recognize the man, or the weapon, which appeared different from anything he’d ever seen before.

  “Let’s go downstairs to the laboratory,” Miller said. “We’d like your thoughts on his equipment.”

  “Sure, whatever I can do to help.”

  “Remember, this is still a crime scene, be careful not to touch anything,” Sheriff Banks said as they descended the cellar stairs.

  John’s eyes widened as they passed the battered and broken basement door. He saw yellow evidence markers near reddish brown bloodstains at the base of the stairs and near the center of the room. Pencils and pens were strewn across the concrete.

  The machinery blinked. A man and woman in lab coats photographed a large corkscrew shaped electronic device made out of metal, plastic, wires, and a converted mini-satellite television dish. Two desktop computers were connected to a bank of rectangular components which included receivers, transmitters, and other modulating devices. A round metal tank with coils and wires rested on the concrete floor covered by a thin coating of frost. Along the walls, metal
shelves hoarded a collection of various electrical and mechanical component parts, many gathering dust like clay pots in a pharaoh’s tomb.

  “Have you seen this device before?” Miller asked. Sheriff Banks, arms folded, studied John. Lovitsky held the recording device.

  “No, sir. I haven’t been down here in years.” John eyes were drawn to evidence markers on the floor.

  “What can you tell me—”

  “Hold up,” John barked. “This blood on the floor. Is this my son’s blood?”

  “We don’t know yet. We have to wait for the test results.”

  “Was someone killed down here?”

  Lovitsky glanced up from his notes. “The amount of blood found here is comparable to what one might expect from a minor injury, or a nosebleed. Though it is possible someone might have been killed, it seems unlikely.”

  John took a deep breath. “Thank you. What was your question, Agent Miller?”

  “We understand your concern, and please ask us any questions you might have. In your experience as a mechanic, what’s the purpose of this device?”

  John walked closer and examined the device, the components, and the computer screen. “I’m sure you’ve already engaged your experts, but from my limited experience, this looks like communication equipment. A receiver and transmitter, or transceiver. The metal canister may be some sort of cooling device and probably contains liquid nitrogen. I can’t help you with the computer linkage.” Lovitsky looks anxious. This is just foreplay for the real questions.

  “Thank you,” Lovitsky said. “Who do you think Patrick communicated with?”

  “I have no idea. A lot of people have hobbies related to radios. My father once had a ham radio in his basement, an antenna on the roof, and tried to talk to people as far away as possible.”

  “Do you know if Mr. McDugan had friends he spoke with from faraway? Russia? China? Korea?”

  “No, sir, I do not.”

  “We found it interesting that this transceiver is not linked to an exterior antenna on the roof or underground cables. Can you explain that?”