All of the Above

by Timothy Scott Bennett

  6.4

  It was all Linda could do to keep from screaming out. Edmonton? That was fucking Rice! Her heart hammered and her guts gritted and her legs raged with the need to kick something. How had that motherfucker found her so quickly? And now… Jesus! Cole! And the kids! Scrunching her face tight, she worked to control her breathing. Though every bit of her body wanted to kick the door open and run, she knew that she had to stay silent and listen. Somehow these poor people had already been noticed. It was too late to leave them out of it. Too late.

  The aliens must have sold her out.

  Rice’s voice cut right through the kids and the seat cushions and the engine noise, stabbing her repeatedly as she lay folded and crumpled in the cargo compartment, unable to defend herself. She could see him in her mind, standing at Cole’s window, his eyes all over the kids, his fucking smirk soiling them with his smug disdain. She heard him greet Emily and she knew, in that moment, that if he tried to hurt that child she would reach right through the seat and strangle him where he stood.

  Emily did not respond. Linda held her breath. Three rapid knocks sounded on what she supposed was the front windshield. Rice said something she could not make out. Cole spoke. Then the policeman spoke. The car began to move. Linda let out her breath. For some reason, they were being allowed to pass through. As if maybe Rice had found her car but did not yet know about Cole. Linda felt a spark of hope catch hold in her heart. Was it possible that the aliens had not sold her out after all?

  No. That was stupid. Wishful thinking. Linda Travis would not get caught hoping again. But then what had just happened?

  Linda thought furiously as the car picked up speed. She had to get to Keeley. That’s the only plan she had, as wild and meager as it was. She couldn’t let Cole and his kids get dragged into this any further. Not these beautiful children. She just couldn’t. She had to get to Keeley. Keeley owed her.

  If only she hadn’t gone into the ditch. She’d be there already. And poor little Grace would be playing at school right now, instead of lost in … she couldn’t even finish the thought. There was something deeply disturbing to her about Grace’s slumber. She did not know what it meant, but she knew that it wasn’t right. And she knew that it had something to do with her. Linda sighed. She had to find a way to make the world right again.

  Her plan, if she even dared call it that, had come to her the morning after Spud had abducted her. Linda’s mind had finally cleared and she could see them all – Rice, Bob, the People, the Life – for what they were: traitors, psychopaths, mobsters, monsters. She was going to stop them. That was her job.

  Keeley had been in that high school play. Dancing and singing with the rest. But this was not the Keeley she had last known, the sad, defeated teen with the limp blonde hair. She was older, this Keeley. Brighter of spirit. Stronger. Her eyes glinted once again with that rebellious edge that had immediately enchanted Linda Warren when they first met in fifth grade. Keeley played shortstop and Linda covered first base and they’d become a team of two from there on out. But then Keeley had moved away in their senior year, not long after one of her uncles had been put in jail. Soon thereafter she stopped answering Linda’s letters. Linda went off to college and met Earl, married him and moved away. It seemed that Linda and Keeley would be lost from each other forever.

  But there she was, onstage, singing and dancing, stronger than ever. It was as if the answer to Linda’s predicament was contained right in the question. The President of the United States had begun to plan her escape.

  The car made a quick left turn and Linda tensed against the cargo space wall to keep herself from sliding. Not long after that the pavement ended and the sound of tires on gravel filled her ears. The road inclined. After a couple of long curves and a very steep hill the car slowed to a crawl and turned to the left again. Linda heard puddles splashing underneath, more gravel, and tall grass sweeping the underside. The car eased to a stop. The engine went silent.

  They were one step closer. And Rice was hot on her trail.

  6.5

  His father was right where Cole expected him: standing, waiting on the concrete stoop like a guard dog on a short chain. The message was “you can’t come in,” which suited Cole just fine. He’d carry Grace inside and then leave as quickly as possible. The police had found the President’s car. They were so close he could feel them watching. Cole had to get Linda out of here as quickly as he could.

  Cole stopped behind his father’s old Land Cruiser and put his Subaru in park, then turned off the engine. He swung his head around to talk to his kids. “You guys remember what we talked about, right?” he asked.

  Iain rolled his eyes but spoke gently. “We got it, Dad.”

  “You just let me do the talking. After I’m gone, you just repeat what we agreed on and keep everything else to yourself. You know how your grandfather….”

  “Dad.” Emily grabbed her backpack and opened her door. “We got it.”

  Cole nodded, glancing at Grace in the rearview mirror. She was still asleep. A small trickle of saliva seeped down from the corner of her slack and heavy mouth. He glanced out at his father, waved perfunctorily, and opened his door.

  Iain and Emily got out and collected their things. Cole opened Grace’s door and shook her gently. “Grace, honey? Time to wake up.”

  Grace stirred, opened her eyes for a moment, then closed them again. “I’ll need Grandpa to guard me,” she mumbled.

  “Okay, sweetie. He will.” Cole unlatched Grace’s seatbelt and pulled her to her feet, then lifted her into his arms. Worried and confused and filled with urgency, Cole carried his youngest to his father’s home. Catching up with Iain and Emily, the four of them approached Ben Thomas on the porch, his bantam legs spread wide, his hands on his hips.

  “Hey, Dad,” said Cole, an awkward attempt at normality that neither of them was buying.

  “You mind telling me what the hell this is all about?” asked Ben. At five-foot-nine, with peppered black hair and a deep tan, Ben Thomas looked nowhere near the sixty-nine years he had under his belt. He’d aged like the scratch golfer that he was and still dressed like the banker he’d been. His was a face that allowed for no bullshit. And you just knew that he was the one who determined what bullshit was.

  Cole frowned, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps. He’d never figured out how to handle his father, but he just didn’t have time for it today. He was about to retort when Emily stepped forward.

  “Hi, Grandpa,” she said sweetly.

  Ben’s hard face softened as he looked down at the kids. “Hey, kiddoes,” he said, smiling. He reached around, opening the storm door behind him and swinging it open. “C’mon, in.”

  “We brought the cribbage board,” offered Iain, stepping up to his grandfather’s compact, well-appointed and very tidy ranch house.

  “Glad to hear it, boss,” answered Ben with a chuckle. He reached out to tousle Iain’s hair and Iain stopped him with a sideways glance and an index finger in the air, a bit of theater they’d performed hundreds of times. Ben laughed and winked. Iain smiled and followed his sister inside. Ben turned and stepped aside to watch as Cole carried Grace up the steps and through the door. Grace didn’t rouse at all.

  Cole took Grace down the hallway to the left, past the bathroom and into the bedroom she slept in when they stayed over. Drawing back the covers, he lowered her gently into her bed and pulled off her shoes, then leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She opened her eyes for a moment, smiling crookedly at her father. Something in her expression caught Cole in the throat and he choked back a sob, whether from love or dread he could not tell.

  Grace whispered something that Cole could not quite make out, her voice full of sleep. “Take care of cornfed,” it sounded like. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, then closed her eyes again. “G’bye, Daddy,” she muttered, rolling to her side. Cole pulled the covers up and turned to leave. Ben Thomas stood in the bedroom door, watching silently.

  Cole
pushed past him and back to the living room, where Emily stood waiting and Iain sat with his DSX3. Cole stopped long enough to hug his older children goodbye, then stepped back out onto the stoop and hurried down the steps, his father right behind him. A good thirty feet out into the yard, Cole whirled to face the unavoidable. Ben was right in his face.

  “I can’t tell you, Dad. It’s not—”

  “Bullshit you can’t tell me, Cole!” Ben’s eyes were wire and steel and he used them to get what he wanted. He’d had long decades of practice. “You call me up and tell me you’re keeping the kids out of school today and can I watch them and you’ve gotta go out of town and Grace won’t wake up and you can’t tell me? Bullshit. Something’s off here.”

  Cole opened his mouth to respond when Ben held up a hand to stop him. Nodding over Cole’s shoulder he said, “There’s somebody in your car, Cole.”

  Cole turned to see the Subaru’s back seat door swing open. Linda Travis crawled out over the seat, pulled her legs around, and stepped out, straightening her clothes. “Can I help?” she asked.

  “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” said Ben. He looked at Cole, his jaw slack, for once bereft of words. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he repeated.

  Linda strode forward with all the confidence and power one might expect from a head of state, sweeping aside Ben’s steely glare with one of her own. “Nobody’s kidding anybody here, Ben,” she said, thrusting out her hand for a hearty shake. “I’m in need of a great deal of help. Cole’s helping me. And now we need yours. You up for that?” The President rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms. Every inch of her stance conveyed this message: You don’t scare me a bit.

  Ben Thomas looked her up and down, cleared his throat, glanced down at his feet and then looked the President right in the eye. Cole watched, remembering when, as a teenager, he’d witnessed his father buy a new car from the local dealer. He’d seen that little dance before. He’d seen it a million times. And he knew what it meant; his father was calculating his relative position in the situation, assessing his advantage, and figuring out his next move. His father was looking to make a deal. Or a sale. Or a kill. Ben Thomas cleared his throat again and spoke. “Lotta people looking for you right now, Mrs. President.”

  Linda responded with a derisive laugh. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I don’t, Mrs. President,” answered Ben, his chin jutting defiantly. “Obviously things are not what they seem.” He glanced sidelong at his son. “My boy Cole here sure ain’t no gang of terrorists.”

  “I’d agree with you there, Ben,” Linda answered, using his first name like a knife. “Things are not at all what they seem. For instance, you might notice that Cole is not a boy.”

  Ben smiled, as if in acknowledgement of a worthy opponent. “I’m just watching out for my loved ones, Linda,” he said, tossing her first name back at her. He motioned toward the house, reminding them all of the children inside, as if nobody could argue with a man protecting his family. “I’m guessing you’re in a shitload of trouble right now, ma’am. More than any of us here is up for. And I’m not too keen on you bringing that trouble to my home. I think you need more help than that. Real help. From the people who’s job it is—”

  Linda had had enough. She stepped right into Ben Thomas’ personal space and cut him off. “Listen to me. You will not threaten me under the guise of protecting your family. You have no idea what’s going on here.”

  Ben took a step backward. “Hold on,” he said, hands out in protest.

  Linda stepped right back into his space. “I’m calling the bullshit here, Ben Thomas. You think I’m coming in for a loan on a used car? The President of your country is standing right in front of you requesting your help. This is a national security issue the likes of which you cannot even begin to imagine. And the futures of those precious children inside are at stake. Now, you gonna get in my way here, Ben? Or are you gonna step up to the plate and take care of your grandkids while Cole and I go see what we can do about all this? ‘Cause I’m telling you, Ben: You’re right. There’s trouble right on my heels. If you don’t help us, it’s gonna be right on your doorstep.”

  Linda stopped, her eyes hard, her breath somewhat ragged. Ben stared her down for a moment, then dropped his gaze and retreated another step. The President didn’t follow this time. She just stood her ground. Cole held his breath, his eyes focused on a spot between the President and his father, unable to look either of them in the eye. Off in the distance the sound of car tires crunching on gravel intruded into the birdsong and rustle of leaves. Linda twisted her neck to measure the sound, then turned back to Ben. “We gotta get out of here, Ben,” she said, her voice tinged with trepidation and need.

  Ben looked up again, his eyes now softened with acceptance and respect. “Can you tell me what this is about?” he asked.

  The President shook her head, relaxing just a bit. “I can’t, Mr. Thomas. I’m sorry. There’s simply no time. You’re going to have to help without understanding why. Can you do that?”

  Ben nodded, scratched his neck. “Yeah.”

  The front door swung open with a squeal and Emily stepped out onto the stoop. “Don’t forget about Dennis,” she pleaded.

  Cole saw the way out of this. Stepping forward, he grabbed his father and pulled him in for a stiff hug. “We gotta go, Dad,” he said into his father’s ear. Ben pulled away but Cole kept hold of his shoulders. “We couldn’t find Dennis this morning. Can you get somebody to go look for him?”

  “Yeah. I can do that.”

  “Thanks. Try Cat and Jake first. Okay?”

  Ben offered a slight smile of acquiescence. “Okay, Cole.” He turned to Emily. “We’ll find that little mobster, Em,” he called out. “Don’t you worry.” Satisfied, Emily nodded. She glanced at her father, a look of love and fear in her eyes, then stepped back inside. Ben turned to Cole and Linda. “You’d better go.”

  Cole nodded, then shrugged, tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Grace, Dad,” he said.

  “I’ll get the doc over here. Have her checked out.” Ben smiled. “She probably just didn’t sleep much last night, given the excitement.”

  Cole smiled back. “Yeah. Maybe. Thanks, Dad.”

  Linda reached out and took Ben’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas,” she said gently. With that she turned and walked quickly to the car, slamming the back door and walking around to the front passenger door instead.

  “Don’t you think –” Cole called, following. Linda shook her head decisively, opened the door and climbed in. Cole pulled open the driver’s door, then glanced back at his father. Ben stood where they had left him, looking both smaller and larger at the same time.

  Ben smiled. “You be careful, Cole,” he said.

  “I will.”

  Ben nodded. Cole climbed into the car and closed the door. He started the engine and backed up to turn around. With one last wave to his father he put the Subaru into first gear and headed up the drive.

  He stopped at the mailbox and twisted toward Linda. “You can’t ride up here. There are police all over the place.”

  “That was Rice,” she responded. There was a fatalistic air to her that scared Cole. As if something deep inside of her had been defeated.

  “What was Rice?” he asked. “I don’t—”

  Linda raised a hand to stop him. She motioned down the road, a sad, vague gesture of devastation and bitterness. “Edmonton. The tall red-haired guy that spoke with you. That was Rice. He’s here.”

  Cole’s stomach cramped as it sunk. “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Fuck.”

  “How’d he find us?”

  The President sighed heavily, glancing up and down the gravel road as if the answer were there. When she turned back to Cole there was a tear on her cheek. “It’s possible they found the car and connected it to me. More likely, they sold us out.”

  “Who?”

  “Th
e aliens. The Life. Whatever the fuck. Spud. That’s the only way I can think of that Rice could’ve gotten here so fast. And how he could have known to come talk to you.”

  “Christ.” Cole’s thoughts went racing back to his kids. The trouble was already here. Cole pictured Rice at his father’s front door, staring in at Iain and Emily, watching Grace as she slept. The images made him shudder. But something was off. “So why did he let me go?” he asked. It didn’t add up.

  Linda shrugged. “I don’t know,” she replied. “Sometimes I think it’s all just a game to Rice. Maybe he’s playing with us. Or maybe he knows less than we fear.”

  “So what do we do?” he asked.

  Linda leaned back and closed her eyes, astounded at her own stupidity. Her escape? Her miraculous healing? Had she actually thought the aliens were helping her? Was that insane or what? The one thing you could count on was that the aliens would follow their own agenda, no matter what. Had she learned nothing? There was no help. She and Cole were on their own. If they were to survive this, it would be due to their own efforts. It was that simple. And that simplicity gave her the strength to go on.

  She looked at Cole. The defeat in her eyes had turned to something softer. Acceptance. Resolve. “We get the fuck out of here,” she said.

  “But what about Rice?”

  “We have to draw him away from your kids.” Linda opened her door and crawled out of the car, leaning back in to finish the conversation.

  Cole nodded. “Yeah. We do.”

  “So, I think I might know how to do that.” Linda closed her door and stepped around to the back of the car to open the hatchback. Cole got out to help. Linda crawled into the cargo compartment, adjusting the pillow and blankets to find what comfort she could. “Just drive north, Cole,” she said. “Up to Keeley’s place in Eastbound, like I showed you on the map. I’ll take care of the rest.”