by Rae Knightly
Laura watched dazedly through the running crowds as the mist around the fountain thinned, and Mesmo’s outline appeared in its centre. The alien carried Ben in his arms.
***
Ben gasped.
He felt as though he had just tumbled down a hill in total darkness and had landed at the bottom, bruised and battered. He figured he must have hit the ground pretty hard and expected pain to engulf him any minute. But the pain didn’t come.
Instead, he became aware of muffled silence, cut by screams somewhere far away. He struggled to make sense of sound. His vision focused and he found himself surrounded by metal walls that belonged to the inside of a van. A small window near the front gave out to an empty driver’s seat.
The last thing he remembered was landing face-first on the granite paving. Now, he was in a standing position, inside an unknown vehicle.
How can that be?
He wanted to approach two small, dirt-covered windows on the side of the van but found he couldn’t move.
He glanced at his feet and hands fearfully. There was nothing wrong with them. Yet, when he tried to move, there was a resistance. He pressed against the air, and an invisible barrier restrained him with force.
Something shone below him. He strained his neck to make out what it was. Blue beams emanated from four hand-sized, black boxes placed in a square formation under his feet. They seemed to determine the limit of his movements.
As if he were stuck in a narrow shaft, Ben managed to bend his knees, grunting as he reached for one of the boxes. He curled his fingers around the object, but his hand passed right through it. Denial seeped into his mind. “No, no, no, no, no.” He clung to the word like a life-saving vest.
Unable to fight the horrible, sinking feeling that threatened to engulf him, he stood and stretched his neck to glance out the small windows.
Sounds of screams and running people surrounded the van. He could hear a helicopter hovering overhead. Soldiers gathered before a strange mist which hung to the ground across the street. From it, Ben watched Mesmo emerge, carrying a limp body in his arms.
His body.
“No, no, no, no, no,” he repeated. “Mesmo!” He punched at the air that held him prisoner, calling the alien’s name desperately. Feeling dizzy with despair, he shut his eyes and puffed his cheeks several times, willing himself to calm down.
Break the connection!
That’s what he needed to do.
Take control of your thoughts and break the connection with the spirit portal.
He forced his mind to go blank and willed his spirit back to his body. Instead, a powerful whirlpool of magnetic energy grabbed at him from all sides. He wanted to scream. It was as if he had been swallowed by suffocating quicksand. He didn’t know which way was up or down as his spirit stretched in a tug-of-war between his body and the alien trap. Fighting devastating panic, he stopped struggling and let his mind drift. Like a piece of metal drawn to a magnet, his spirit got sucked back into the van.
“Let me out! Help!” he yelled.
Outside the van, chaos drowned his voice.
More police cars arrived at the scene. Ben watched in dismay as his lifeless body was placed on a stretcher and rolled into one of the army trucks. Mesmo was handcuffed and taken into another truck.
The door on the driver’s side opened suddenly, and the van dipped as someone took place in the front seat.
Ben turned in a hurry.
A bald head appeared through the window. “Well, well,” Connelly smirked, peeking at him. “I’ve caught a little mouse.” He lifted his arm and tapped on the silver watch that contained the spirit portal. It was safely attached to his wrist. The blue beams below Ben glowed at its proximity.
Ben’s voice died in his throat.
Connelly seemed amused. “Don’t you just wish I had trapped Mesmo instead of you? His spirit turned out to be too strong, though, and it slipped through my fingers. But then, it occurred to me. Toreq blood now runs through your veins. So, I reactivated my devices and tried again.” Connelly clicked his tongue. “I guess my idea paid off.”
He turned to face the front, then hesitated and looked back at Ben again, a frown creasing his forehead. “What I didn’t expect was that Mesmo stayed to save you.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Or, at least, he made a flimsy attempt to.” He raised an eyebrow at Ben’s silence. “Lost your voice, little mouse?” He leaned forward and turned on the ignition. The motor roared to life. “Maybe you’ll find it again, in the end.”
***
Laura ran down the sidewalk, bumping into fleeing civilians, trying to approach the group of soldiers who were taking Ben and Mesmo away, while remaining at a safe distance on the opposite side of the street.
A van took off in a cloud of smoke before her, so she stepped onto the parking spot it had left unoccupied. Never once did she take her eyes off Ben’s limp body until the back doors of the military truck shut with a clatter, locking him in. The truck sped off without delay, guided by a police car that opened up the way before it with sirens wailing.
“Ben!” she whispered, weak with worry.
The truck that held Mesmo followed closely behind the first one, and in no time the convoy made their way down central Toronto.
Someone yelled nearby, startling her. A man rushed by, while other people stopped and pointed, commenting loudly. Instead of running away from Berczy Park, she suddenly found civilians heading towards it.
She followed the pointed fingers, and her mouth fell open.
Now that the mist had gone, Dog Fountain was once more visible in the middle of the plaza. Emerging from its top, a thick column of frozen water sparkled in the afternoon sun. The size of it, in itself, was remarkable, but what caught Laura off guard was the shape the icy cylinder had been twisted into. It was a symbol, and the symbol resembled that of a treble clef–just like the one she had strung around her neck.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Interrogation
Laura wandered the streets of Toronto aimlessly, her mind in turmoil. She clutched the object Mesmo had given her for safekeeping several weeks earlier: the one which he had said contained information.
But what kind of information?
Was the frozen symbol at the fountain meant for her? Did Mesmo expect her to uncover a secret message contained in the gadget somehow?
She slipped into a back alley and crouched against the wall behind some garbage bins, then pulled out the object and studied it up close. It was the length of her pinkie and was made from a heavy material. She noted once more that it vaguely resembled the musical symbol commonly placed at the beginning of music partitions. There were tiny indentations and bumps along the surface, but nothing giving the slightest hint as to how it functioned.
Laura leant back and let out a shaky breath.
What now?
A racket down the alley made her start. She peeked out of her hiding spot behind the garbage bin and saw a form hunch out the garage doors of a warehouse, pushing aside empty boxes that stood in his way. She tensed, preparing to flee. But the man headed in the opposite direction without noticing her.
Is that…?
“Bob?” She got to her feet instantly. “Wait up!”
The bearded man glanced at her, then hastened away.
“Hey!” she yelled, sprinting after him.
Bob broke into a run, but not fast enough that she couldn’t catch up with him.
“Stop already!” she panted, grabbing his arm. “Why are you running?” She fell back at the sight of his harried look.
He cringed at her touch.
“What’s the matter?”
His eyes darted from side to side. “Danger,” he muttered. “Have to go…”
“Wait a minute! What happened? Tell me!”
He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “This police officer came to my condo…I thought he was…but his face! His face…Not normal…”
“I know about him already. The police just took Ben away. He
’s in grave danger! We have to do something!”
Bob rocked on his feet without looking at her.
“Bob!” she yelled, trying to shake him into action. “Come on! We have to save Ben!”
Ben’s father remained silent.
Laura’s mouth fell open. “Oh my God! You’re running away from him again!”
Bob scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I…this is not…You never said…”
Laura pressed her hands against her stomach, stepping back from him. “You’re doing it again,” she said accusingly. “I thought you’d changed, but you haven’t.”
Bob dropped his chin to his chest as if she had just slapped him in the face. “Too dangerous… We…we could get killed…Need to hide…”
She watched him mutter half to himself as he distanced himself from her, feeling too numb to retain him. She so needed Bob’s help right now, but clearly, Bordock had left a lasting mark on him. Could she blame him?
I’m terrified of Bordock, too.
But turning her back on Ben was out of the question. And with that in mind, she realized there was only one thing left for her to do.
***
Connelly drove further and further away from any signs of civilization, with Ben catching glimpses through the small dust-covered windows of traffic-jammed Toronto streets to hills covered in maple trees that went on and on for as far as the eye could see. Darkness fell, making the whole trip even lonelier.
Where’s he taking me?
The longer the drive, the more desperate he became, especially after the van veered on to a bumpy road, away from the main, asphalted highway.
This spirit travelling didn’t sit well with him. He yearned to return to the real, physical world and be in charge of his movements. The invisible pressure exerted all around him made it hard for him to concentrate. It was as if an elephant sat on him, making it necessary to focus his every thought on not getting crushed.
Now I know how Mesmo felt all these months.
The van finally came to a stop many hours later, in the pitch of the night. Ben briefly caught sight of a convoy of trucks and soldiers bustling around an open area illuminated by LED floodlights, in the middle of which stood a dull, concrete building.
The van, however, came to a standstill under the shadow of trees, far enough not to be noticed.
Connelly turned to him. “Don’t try anything funny,” he warned, before getting out and shutting the door.
The shapeshifter’s footsteps faded away, leaving Ben in a crushing silence.
How’m I going to get out of this one?
***
The heavy Dugout elevator came to a standstill. Three soldiers stepped out of it, flanking the alien that Hao had been searching for for a good six months. The Inspector watched, along with a dozen other bystanders, as the tall subject strode across the hangar dominated by the hovering spacecraft.
He looks so normal, Hao observed, feeling a chill run down his spine. How many others are out there?
He followed the apprehended suspect across the hangar, briefly noticing that he was getting used to his crutches. But while the soldiers took the alien to the interrogation room, Hao split from the group and headed down to the last floor.
There, he found men in protective suits rushing around the safe room containing the three lifeless aliens, and Hao watched as the boy was rolled on a stretcher beside the alien girl.
The medical team shouted orders to each other and Hao had to wobble aside as a heart monitor and other medical equipment were rushed to the boy’s side.
“What’s going on?” Hao asked sharply, addressing a passing medic. “Is he alive?”
The practitioner lifted his surgical mask. “Barely,” he said, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. “His heart rate is dangerously low. Zero reflex responses. We’re treating it as a coma.”
Hao pressed his lips together.
The practitioner covered his mouth again and adjusted his latex gloves. “It would help if we knew what happened to him. You could consider slipping the question to his alien accomplice.” Without waiting for a response, the practitioner went to join the rest of the medical team.
Hao backed away with dullness in the chest. He did not like it when an investigation went awry. In his mind, if anyone got hurt–be it police, civilian or suspect–it meant unprofessional coordination of the special forces. A successful intervention should occur in a quasi-invisible and swift manner, with as little disturbance to civilians as possible. Hao exhaled air out of his puffed cheeks.
This case is one mess after another, he thought scornfully.
He clambered back up the stairs and headed for the interrogation room. The soldier standing guard moved aside sharply.
Good, Hao thought. This one still thinks I’m in charge.
He entered the dark room and observed the alien sitting behind the one-way mirror. A soldier stood guard beside the subject, while another flanked the wall beside Hao.
“Where’s Agent Connelly?” Hao asked the guard.
“He’s debriefing the High Inspector, Sir,” the guard replied. “They’ll be down in a minute.”
Good. Out loud, Hao said, “Well, I don’t have all day. Open up, will you?”
“But Agent Co…”
“…will be down in a minute, you just said. I’m to begin questioning the suspect at once.”
The guard shifted, but Hao knew he still exerted enough authority to be obeyed.
Might as well use it while it lasts, he thought bitterly.
“Yes, Sir.” The guard straightened and hurried to unlock the door with a code. It buzzed open, and Hao stepped in.
“I’d like to speak to the suspect, alone,” he told the guard who stuck by the wall like a poster.
“That is not advisable, S…” the guard began.
“I’ll determine what is and what isn’t advisable, soldier. You will leave me with the suspect!”
The soldier knocked his army boots together. “Yes, Sir!” He exited the room with quick strides, and the door clicked heavily shut behind him.
Hao paced the room, his crutches clicking on the floor.
The subject sat with his eyes closed, his skin a light shade of grey, his cuffed hands resting on the table before him.
Hao couldn’t help but stare at the extraterrestrial in fascination. Had this individual really crashed in one of the alien spaceships that they had recovered on the fields of Chilliwack? Up until this moment, Hao had felt like he had been chasing a phantom. Months of research had only revealed fleeting glimpses of the subject: a lousy image from an airport camera, a grainy picture from a funeral, and a glance of the man fleeing on the Kananaskis Mountains…
Just look at him, Hao thought, observing the man’s traits: wavy, brown hair, high cheekbones, square chin and straight nose. Slightly taller than the average male. Nothing out of the ordinary.
He dyed his hair, Hao realized suddenly.
Placed next to the other aliens, there was an undeniable similarity. And then there were the hundreds of questions he had about inexplicable whale and crow attacks, the fact that this individual had survived a massive avalanche unscathed, and the many news reports that were surging of the Berczy Park incident with a mysterious, frozen symbol perched on top of its fountain.
Not to mention that there’s no trace of him in any official identification system.
Even though he did not have a shred of hard evidence to link this individual to The Cosmic Fall, his gut feeling told him that the right suspect had been apprehended–meaning he was once more in the presence of an extraterrestrial being. Hao’s stomach felt queasy.
How does one initiate a conversation with an alien? he wondered.
Hao wished he had time to ask the millions of questions that crisscrossed his mind, but they would have to wait. He sat opposite the suspect and said, “My name is Inspector James Hao. My partner, Agent Theodore Connelly, will be joining us soon.”
The alien opened his eyes. Th
ey were a deep honey-colour. Slightly unusual, but not impossible. They reflected extreme weariness, yet Hao’s heightened senses also perceived the hint of a connection between them.
“How is the boy?” the subject asked.
Hao had hoped for a mutual introduction, but clearly, the alien was testing the ground on which he stood. “Benjamin Archer, you mean?” he replied, deciding to go along with the alien’s side of the conversation. “We believe he is in a coma. You can rest assured that he is closely monitored by our medical team.”
The alien gave a single nod.
“Can you tell me what happened to him, so our doctors can treat him accordingly?” Hao asked.
The alien studied him as if trying to determine how much he should say. “Perhaps you should ask that question to the one you call your partner,” he replied finally.
Hao flinched involuntarily. “Why?”
The alien held his gaze with a glint in his eyes but did not answer.
There’s that connection again. “What would my partner know, that I don’t?” Hao insisted. It bothered him that the subject didn’t look away once. He wants to talk but is cautious.
Voices came from the other side of the one-way mirror.
Damn! “Talk to me!” Hao urged. “What would my partner know about the boy that I don’t? I already know he’s not human. My partner took a blood sample from him.”
The alien leant forward, his eyes glued to Hao, and spoke in a low voice, “Did he, really?”
Hao opened his mouth, but just then lights came on in the adjacent room, making the High Inspector and Connelly visible through the smoked glass.
Connelly approached the window to glance at them, then lifted his arm and tapped on his silver wristwatch meaningfully as if indicating that Hao’s time was up.
The door swung open, and the High Inspector stepped in, eyes protruding. “Hao, what do you think you’re doing?”
Hao didn’t have time to reply.
The alien’s reaction was swift. He sprang out of his chair, shoved the High Inspector aside and threw himself at Connelly. The bald man toppled under the attacker’s weight.
