by Tom Holloway
John hesitates, then says, “The FBI loves you for saving the country. Yet they are terrified of you; they think you use mind control; they think you have your hooks into everyone, maybe even the president. Everyone acts as if you know whatever is said, thus no one says your name or talks about you. They also know what happened in Iran, the total purge of most of the leadership, not a trace of them, and all the key people, the right people. You didn’t miss one, as if you had inside information, meaning their own thoughts. You could do that anywhere. Every leader in the world is terrified of you, even if they say they aren’t. Everyone knows what you did to the Chinese and the Russians. They all wonder what your real agenda is, what you’re going to do next. Of course we are all hoping for the best.”
“What do you think, John? You certainly are honest and candid. Please give me the truth.”
A long pause; finally John responds.
“I think you have your hooks into everyone, including me. I’m not sure how. I sometimes feel you’re listening, maybe even guiding me, or maybe I’m just imagining it. I hope—or think—you mean no harm to us, and I am not real worried about you, not sure why. I want to consider you an ally. You saved my daughter. You certainly saved us from Iran and a terrible destruction, my life was saved as was my family, millions were saved; you will always have our gratitude. Judy and I will always be your friend, as we owe you big time. Yet, I also have acute anxiety and real bad dreams about visitors coming from out there, your comrades. The whole universe is out there, and now we know they know about Earth. Nothing is certain. Many here have real stress, and the fear is real.”
“John, for right now, two things are certain: We have a fantastic dinner planned tonight, and I leave Earth in the morning. Let’s enjoy the evening. See you at five.”
Anna is looking at him with a frown, standing there with her arms folded, looking really hot in her white cotton shorts, showing off everything I love. I know she must have been listening to my conversation with John.
I sheepishly say, “I guess you heard about the New York place in my conversation and are wondering why I never mentioned it.”
Anna continues to stare at me, not a pleasant look.
I continue, “Yes, I have a place there, but it’s not really a home to me, just a place to go. I never think of it, or I would have told you. I already planned to give you keys to it, one of the things the law firm will go over with you within the next couple of weeks. This way you’ll have a chance to meet the staff.”
She continues to stare at me; I feel her mind probes.
“Anna, honest, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t been there a lot myself. I don’t even know the neighbors.” I say this honestly, as there are no neighbors; I own the whole building. Yet in truth, I spend little time there.
Anna shakes her head, says, “All right. We’re eating dinner there tonight. Judy will want to know what to wear. You said casual, which is a nice dress. If you have a staff, I guess you have a cook there, thus nothing for Judy or me to be concerned about regarding dinner. I’ll call Judy. Then a bike ride. No time for breakfast—we eat out. You need to wear shorts and a T-shirt, as you will get hot. It will be a long bike ride. I know this great place to go. We can take fruit, too, make it a picnic. It’s my surprise. You’ll like it.”
She talks to Judy, who is delighted, thrilled to meet Anna, and we have a dinner date. Then, we are on the bikes heading out fast, and I am trying to keep up.
I am trying not to worry about Anna, her weaving in and out of traffic ahead of me, although she is good on a bike, well practiced on it, lots of miles under her belt. My skills are working well enough; however, this is not like running. I laugh as I think about the FBI and everyone else on the surveillance team following us. The helicopter above is probably them, too, and then the Cyclone up above it. The Cyclone is anxious, ready for the trip out, trillions of miles to cover, waiting for me to return to duty, enough of the silly stuff. The Consortium is waiting, I know; Gabriel will want to talk about my trip.
The car next to us and then another in front of it, have guys in them who are taking photos of Anna and me, too. They know who Anna is, yet today is not the day to take photos. I am off limits. Two LA police cars come up behind them, lights blinking, and then another, then two FBI cars. Then two more unmarked military cars are waiting for them at the stoplight. The police are out of their cruisers, halting the cars, pulling the men out, arresting them, handcuffs, the whole thing. Then more police cars arrive, their lights flashing, sirens on.
Anna and I keep going fast, looking at each other. She laughs and yells at me, “First time that ever happened. You must be really important, Captain Johnson! You think they’re watching us close? They’re not taking any chances with you. Wow! You won’t be getting lucky on this picnic, Henry!”
We finally arrive, gliding down a big hill, a surprise ahead. We are at the LA Zoo. We are going to the zoo! Anna has her money out at the entrance gate, ahead of me. She passed all the cars waiting, her bike now resting against her body, paying at the window the nineteen dollars apiece; she is yelling that it’s her treat. The ticket guys know her and let her in the line without complaint; they’re just glad she is at the zoo. It does not hurt to have her there. Some of the people in the lined-up cars are taking her photo, as they recognize her; others are getting out of their cars, walking up. She smiles at them, her entire face lighting up. She has no disguise; she is gorgeous, and it’s not hard to tell who she is. She stands out, one of the celebrities they are all hoping to see. She signs some autographs. Her photo is taken many times as I hang back. She is still wearing the white shorts and the navy-blue shirt, now clinging to her; she looks like a super model from New York. I come up. No one can figure out who I am, sure not a famous actor. Many more are getting out of their cars, heading our way. The police and FBI have caught up, too. Anna waves at them, back on her bike, and off she goes, yelling at me to keep up.
I am thrilled, seeing all these people, the kids, and all the zoo animals. What a sight. The grounds are huge; we bike everywhere, riding on bike lanes, perfect as long as we don’t run anyone down. I think this is a wonderful surprise, although our surveillance team must be miserable, yet now I see a lot of LA police bike officers here and there. They are certainly there because of us. I laugh, and Anna turns to the sound, looking at me. We are riding close to each other down a walking path, side by side.
She is smiling, “Henry, I think you are having a good time!”
“Yes, Miss Summers. This is wonderful, perfect. Let’s eat the fruit we brought!” I see a table under those trees, over by the lion pavilion.
“How about there?”
We pull over. It’s an appealing area, with several trees with a lot of shade and one wood picnic table, no one else close. I sit down at the table and enjoy a good view over the lion yard, close enough to see some of them sleeping or casually looking at us, sensing we are here. All of a sudden they are up, frantic, pacing back and forth, in panic, then growling, roaring, obviously upset, staring at us. Anna looks at them, startled, and then she gets a strange look on her face. She gasps and looks at me.
“Henry, I can hear their thoughts; yes, really, I hear the lions. I think they hear me, too. This is wild! Is it the telepathic thing? They’re curious about me; no, they are terrified of you. They know I’m female and you are a male. They all like me, but they are all afraid of you, really afraid of you. If you look at them, they might really panic; they might try to climb over the fences! Henry, please, just reassure them you mean no harm. I think they know you’re not like me. Maybe they sense you’re an alien.”
“Henry, how alien are you?”
“Anna, it’s not me. They sense the Cyclone. I will soothe them.”
They sense my presence, too, although I think it is the Cyclone’s presence that’s creating the real terror. They feel the Cyclone through me. The biggest lion is really intense, an older male, roaring, fierce. I can smell his fear, and his courage is outstan
ding. I have to admire him, a true predator. We lock eyes, and I hear his thoughts, and I simply respond to him, projecting my thoughts. I tell him who I am and that I have no plans to hurt him or the other lions. He feels my admiration for him. I make him feel better about me, another visitor from a long distance away, not a threat. I want peace between us. I project a strong thought of calmness. He responds in kind. Finally he is lying down again, at peace. I see they are all relaxed again, following his lead.
“Anna, I just needed to respond to them, let them hear my thoughts. I don’t scare them anymore. Maybe I did before. I know they sensed the Cyclone. Remember, the Cyclone is part of me, part of who I am; I cannot do anything about it. I’m sorry if I scared them and you.”
Anna heard it all, including the thoughts of the lion, and she sees my sadness, feels my feeling of desolation. She comes to me, her hands to my face as she tenderly kisses my forehead. She whispers, “I understand, Henry. I am so sorry. I know you’re trying your best to be a regular guy. I love you, Henry!”
The rest of the time at the zoo is great, although all the animals react strangely to me, forcing me to reassure them mentally. The birds all become agitated, as do the zebras, moving quickly from me, scattering in their areas. I am not able to soothe them quickly enough. The zoo staff notices the behavior of the animals and look at me strangely, although everyone is delighted to see Anna. Taking the spotlight off of me, she handles it all well; it’s easy for her. She just knows what to say and makes everyone feel special. She has a good heart, and people feel it.
From then on she becomes an attraction at the zoo, as word spreads fast that she is there. The zoo staff are delighted she’s there; she’s like another exhibit. The LA police are everywhere, lots of them. The FBI guys are subtler, yet they’re there, too. I provide security sometimes, mostly with a hard stare, and just when the crowd is surrounding us, pushing us too hard, always asking for autographs. To my amusement I am asked for my autograph. Thankfully Anna always stays close to me.
We take off for home, Anna riding the bike hard and fast, saying she needs to get home. It’s time to get ready for New York City. She says she has a date with a big-time billionaire with a huge New York penthouse and a ride on his private jet for the trip there. She wants to look her best.
We both have showered and are mostly dressed. The TV is on, showing the news; both of us half watch as we dress. Anna has been kind to me, as I have a closet now, just my stuff. I’m pulling out clothing when my cell phone rings. John Jacobs is on the line.
“Captain Johnson, I apologize. I’m having a family problem, still occurring right now. Actually it’s more of a crisis. It might mess up our dinner plans. I wanted to warn you. And I thought you might be able to help me.”
“John, please let me help you,” I respond.
“Yes, please, I really need your help.” Jacobs pauses, and then says in a worried tone, “My son and his date are missing. He was due home three hours ago, as was his date. It’s a school night, and this was a study date. I do not feel good about this. He’s never late. I’ve called the police, and they can do nothing at this point.”
I say, “John, I can find him, and I’ll bring both of them to your house. Then we can meet as we planned. I know where he is now.” As I am hearing information about his location, provided by the Cyclone. “I’ll pick him up.”
John does not ask how I know, just tells me his son’s name, Michael Jacobs, and what he looks like. I know exactly where he is, as the slip in his son’s brain is a homing beacon telling the Cyclone where he is at this moment. I put slips in Jacobs and his entire family when I told him I would look out for him. These slips signal the Cyclone if any of them is in mortal danger, and the slips will also kill the threat. However, it has to be lethal and imminent.
Currently Michael and his date are at a diner on Highway 9, not too far from his high school, where he is a senior.
Anna heard the communication from Jacobs as she followed my telepathic thought process; most of the communication between us now is telepathic. We rarely talk to each other physically. The brain-to-brain thought transfer is so personal and clarifies messages so well, and the emotions are strong between us, making the intimacy feel good. We know each other’s feelings without confusion, and they are always sincere. The mind meld has helped us, as our minds are in sync now, and each of us comprehends the love bond between us. We each have evolved in unexpected ways.
She says, “I am ready to go if we need to leave early. Is he in a lot of trouble?”
I look at her. “Anna, you are absolutely beautiful. That black dress is perfect!” I think it’s some kind of soft velvet, and it complements her figure. I am wearing a sport coat. “You should know I dressed up for you. And yes, Michael is in trouble, not sure how much. We need to leave. We need to take the Saber.”
The Saber is above the diner, hovering, and I alert Anna there is a problem below. Apparently two large biker-gang guys have taken Michael’s car keys away from him and are harassing him and his girlfriend, Natalie. Both are sitting in a booth, with the two drunken guys. The bikers also bought their own dinners with the money from Michael’s wallet. Both Michael and Natalie are in tears. Both have been roughed up. The restaurant’s employees have been more than intimidated; they’re really frightened, trying to stay out of it, looking the other way, not wanting to get involved.
Anna says she’s going with me as the Saber hovers above the field behind the diner. She is saying she might be able to help, try to keep it from turning ugly for the bad guys, no bloodshed. Anna is saying maybe reason could prevail. It’s worth a try. We go down on power beams; she learns fast. She warns me to stay back and let her try to resolve this. We walk in and see all the other customers have left or run out, and the employees are hiding back in the kitchen.
The bikers look Anna over as she comes into the diner, and after a few seconds of looking at her, both of them are getting up from the booth, hollering and making a fuss about her good looks. They come toward her, saying they want to buy her dinner and party with her. They calm down quickly as I come up behind Anna. She is looking at the two high school kids sitting there in tears. Her anger is not calm or of a reasoning nature.
She tells the kids to get up as we are leaving. She is clearly angry.
The one big guy tells her to mind her own business. Anna maintains her ground, irate, calling them idiot bullies. She is totally disgusted by them. The first guy grabs at her, and she is fast, avoids his hand, backs up, and she then blasts him mentally, an extreme thought probe, just like a Taser bolt; so strong, it penetrates his mind; Anna is surprised, too, not realizing she could do such a thing. The slips in her head have reacted to her possible peril, attacked him, energized by the Saber. The biker jolts backward, like he touched an electrified fence, falling fast backward to the floor, hitting hard, now moaning, holding his head, tears running down his face caused from the intense pain, blood coming out his nose. So much for talking. The second guy is looking at her, then me, fear clearly on his face. Anna is backing away, shocked by her newfound skill, this telepathic bombardment capability. The second guy pulls the guy on the floor up and heads for the door, dragging him.
I walk out behind them, hold out my hand, firmly saying, “You forgot something. You owe the boy his money back.”
There is fear in their eyes. They say nothing, then the guy standing pulls out his wallet, giving me all the cash he has on him. They both apologize, saying they were stupid and it will never happen again.
Out in the parking lot, an excited Natalie asks, “Are you Anna Summers? You look just like her. Why are you here? And thank you for saving us!”
Anna tells them Michael’s father called us, and we are going to take them to meet him. She says she really is Anna Summers and hugs Natalie, who now is more than pleased.
We are all back on board the Saber. Anna and the kids are talking a mile a minute, the kids explaining what happened in riding the power beam to board the starshi
p. We are moving fast, heading for the Jacobs’s’ home. Anna has already shown them the ship, telling them it’s a new private corporate jet. The Saber lands in a large park down the street from the Jacobs’s’ house, a really tight fit between the trees, a couple of trees pushed down. Fortunately it’s raining, making it hard to see the starship.
The kids accept Anna’s explanation of the ship without questioning. When home, they defend what they did, explaining all of it to John and Judy Jacobs, said they did nothing wrong except to be at the diner. They were studying together and ordered two soft drinks, and then the biker guys descended on them.
While we are at the Jacobs’s’ home, they thank us for helping the kids, and we say it was nothing. I say Anna did it all. Afterward, alone, she pokes me saying I forgot to mention something about one of her new skills. She says we need to talk, not now, yet later for sure.
Everyone loves the starship. We are back on the Saber and loaded up: John, Judy, and the rest of the kids as well as Natalie, after she called home for permission. Due to time constraints, the Saber takes us directly to New York City. The ship is on self-pilot, operating with perfection, totally camouflaged.
As we come in low over the city, it is late in the day, no rain, and a blue sky. The sun is starting to go down; the city is reflecting the light of the sunset, the light shimmering off of the skyscrapers, sparkling in the contrast of the darkening blue sky, the sun still a golden radiance on the horizon. We land at my building without issue, and no one knows we have come into New York, except my staff. They are lined up at the inside door of the roof garage as the hydraulic arms spread the roof out, each half totally opens, rising up like two angel wings. Then after the Saber lands, the extended roof sinks back down; the cover comes back over the Saber, a tight fit, yet covering it and hiding it from prying eyes. The staff is all smiles and greets us warmly. I rarely have guests. I had called ahead and the chef, Brett, has prepared several dishes. Everything is ready.
