Jem took it from her hand and said, “Didn’t we go to school together?”
“We sure did.”
“You stopped coming, though. Why’d you do that?”
“My mama got sick, and Daddy needed me to help him,” she said, turning the water back on to finish the last of the dishes. “I thought you left this place for good. Whatever possessed you to come back?”
“Made a wrong turn,” Jem said with a smile. “Actually, I’m just about to leave out.”
“Already?” she said. She eyed him up and down, taking the time to slide her hair out of her face. “Well did you eat yet? It’s past suppertime.”
Jem held up his finger and asked her to wait a moment. He went to the bottom of the steps and called out, “Mr. Walters? Did you find that picture?”
Janet came out of the kitchen and said, “He’s probably passed out in the corner of his closet. I’ll find it later and bring it to you. So, do you want me to fix you a plate? A nice, hot, home cooked meal. Bet it’s been awhile since you had one.”
“I’d love to,” Jem said. “But, I told Claire that I’d stop in and see her before I left. I bet she’s been cooking all day. How about a rain check?”
Janet nodded and said, “All right. I’ll hold you to that rain check.”
“I hope you do,” he said. He untied his destrier and hopped up on it, heading for Pioneer Way. He was about to turn back toward the security gate when it occurred to him to look back. Janet was standing at the front window. Jem waved to her and muttered under his breath, turning his ride around to head in the opposite direction, toward Claire.
10. Highway 61
Chief Bill Sutherland tapped his fingers on his desk nervously while staring at the two men walking toward his office on the computer screen. A uniformed officer stood on either side of his desk, both of them holding assault rifles. There was a knock on the door. Sutherland pressed a button and said, “Enter.”
Hank Raddiger burst through the door and clutched the edge of the desk, “Kill him. Right away. He can do things. Bad things. Kill him as soon as you can.”
“Pardon me?” Sutherland said.
“He’s not regular anymore.” Raddiger’s voice dried up to a squeak at the sound of footsteps coming behind him into the office. He slid to the furthest corner and pressed his back against the wall. Little Willy Harpe paused in the doorway, stroking the black stripe of alien tentacle now sunk into the flesh of his neck like a long, curving tattoo. Harpe whispered something to the creature as he sat down on the chair facing the Chief. “Good afternoon, Bill. Where’s my brother?”
Sutherland cleared his throat and said, “There was an incident after your brother arrived. A PNDA Marshal took him into custody and left the premises.”
Harpe’s eyes narrowed beneath the ledges of his heavy brows. “Is that all you have to say for yourself?”
Sutherland looked at Harpe in confusion. He turned to his officers and said, “Can you believe this guy? He comes into my office, on my station, and talks to me like this?”
“You took our money,” Harpe said. “You made the agreement.”
“One of my men was killed trying to prevent your dimwitted brother’s arrest. If he had just stayed in his ship, everything would have been fine. You are the ones who violated the deal, Harpe. Not me. Get out of my office and go bugger a small animal or whatever the hell it is you hillbillies do for fun. I’ll let you know when I have something that’s worth it to me to let you know about. Understand?”
“If that’s how you feel, then so be it,” Harpe said. He stood and stroked the tentacle thoughtfully for a moment. “I have just one last question.”
“What is it?”
“Aren’t you on fire?”
Sutherland waved his hand in dismissal and said, “That’s enough. Arrest this piece of -- Oh my God.” His flesh sizzled like raw meat thrown into a red-hot pan. His hands blistered and popped with clear fluids that turned to steam from the heat of his flesh. He thrashed in his chair, knocking everything from his desk. “Put me out! Put me out!”
Both officers stared in confusion at him. “Put you out of what, Chief?”
The Chief dropped to the ground and rolled back and forth, “The flames! I’m burning alive.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Little Willy stroked the tentacle on his neck and said, “That’s enough.”
Chief Sutherland stopped moving and crumpled into a ball and sobbed like a child. Harpe used the tip of his toe to turn the Chief over onto his back. “I want all of the data about this Marshal that abducted my brother and the ship they left in.”
Someone had scraped off the old, peeling paint from the front porch’s pillars and replaced it with a coat of shining pearl. There was a garden along the side of the porch that held fat tomatoes and tangles of greens that coiled around stakes set in the black soil. A ramp had been built over the front steps.
Jem saw a man sitting in a wheelchair at the edge of the garden, reaching down to pluck a vegetable. He inspected it and dropped it into the blanket spread across his lap. Jem called out to him and tipped his hat, “Good evening, sir. I apologize for calling on you unexpectedly like this. Do you know where I can find Claire Clayton?”
The man propped himself up on the chair’s hand rails and stood to his feet. His legs looked thin, and unable to support his weight. The man turned his head to point at the ruined clump of flesh that used to be an ear and said, “Ever since the explosion, I don’t hear so good out of this side. You said you was looking for Claire Miller?”
“Miller?”
“My wife. I’m Frank Miller. This is our home.”
A woman opened the front door. She was tall and lean, with blonde hair cut short like a boy’s, but prettier than Jem had expected. Claire’s eyes fixed on him briefly, before she turned to Frank and said, “What are you doing out of that chair?”
Frank leaned back down into the chair, and Jem slid from his saddle to offer his hand to Frank. “It’s an honor to meet you, Frank. My name’s Jem Clayton. I’m Claire’s brother.”
“You don’t say!” Frank said. He grabbed Jem’s hand tightly and shook it, smiling at Claire to say, “Your brother’s finally here, honey. I told you.”
“I can see that,” Claire said.
“Hello, Claire,” he said. “How have you been?”
“You just passing through, then?”
Her eyes were hard against his with no sign of easing. “I suppose so. Just thought I’d stop by and take a look at you, was all. Make sure you still had all your parts. Nice to meet you, Frank. Take care.”
Frank waved him off and said, “Don’t be silly! Come inside and have dinner with us, Jem. We haven’t had company in ages. Claire talks about you all the time.” Frank wheeled his chair toward the ramp, waiting for Jem to tie his destrier and come inside. Claire held the door open for Frank, but let it close behind her as Jem came up the steps.
There were many things Frank was eager to show him inside the house. There were family photos hung on the wall that Jem only glanced at, little knick-knacks set around the house that he instantly recognized, but chose to ignore. Frank looked into the kitchen at where Claire stood with her back turned, slamming her knife on the wood chopping block and said, “Why don’t you go on in there. I’ll stop hogging up your time and let you two catch up.”
Jem took a deep breath before entering the kitchen. He took off his hat and stood awkwardly in the hallway shifting from one foot to the other, watching her cut vegetables. “It wasn’t true, what he said,” Claire said over her shoulder. “I don’t talk about you at all.”