“I’m so sorry. How is he doing? Is he going to be okay?” she asked.
“I think so. I hope so.” Jackie’s eyes became moist and she found it hard to swallow. She looked at Cuddy, who was still beaming at her. He’d gotten so big. Normally, she knew, he’d be handsome, except for that ridiculous, bowl-type haircut and those far too short high-water pants. Jackie wondered if it was no accident he looked like he did. That Mrs. Perkins helped dress him this way, sending a message to anyone who came in close proximity: Back off, people—this boy is severely mentally challenged. Don’t mess with him.
“Where are you off to now, Jackie?”
“Home. To sleep.”
“Tomorrow, you’ll come over for dinner.”
“Oh no, I’m not…”
“I insist, sweetie. I’m making pork chops.”
“And smashed potatoes and leftover peach pie,” Cuddy added.
Jackie smiled, then changed the subject. “What happened to you, Cuddy? Get run over by a herd of buffalo?”
Cuddy’s face turned serious. “I got mugged. That’s what Momma calls it. Mugged.”
“By whom?”
“By Gary Wallahan and Tony Bone.”
“I remember them both, went to my high school. They were bullies… mean bastards back then. Guess they still are. Is that why you’re here… your injuries?”
Cuddy said, “I was bleeding… so I got a few more stitches added to my lip.” He pointed to his still puffy-looking lips and the black Frankenstein-looking sutures. Jackie tried to remember the last time she’d seen Cuddy. It was years ago, when she’d first entered high school. Before then, for close to ten years, she’d been his best friend and protector. Her thoughts traveled back to the barn incident, when she was seven, and she, Kyle and Cuddy were playing up in the loft. Kyle was showing off, acting rowdy. She remembered him pushing Cuddy, who was seven, out of the way, as if it happened yesterday. Like seeing it again, taking place in slow motion, as Cuddy stumbled then fell backward, out into open space. His arms outstretched, as if he were reaching for her. She watched him land hard on his back, unmoving in front of the stall. He looked dead.
Seeing him now, she wondered if things would be different if he had grown up normal—what their relationship would be now? Would they be friends? Something more?
“We eat at six o’clock. Oh… and Kyle’s back home. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you too.”
Jackie was about to decline but thought better of it. She hated cooking for herself and being home alone at the farm didn’t appeal to her in the slightest. “I’ll try to make it. Thank you, six o’clock tomorrow. What should I bring?”
Mrs. Perkins shook her head. “Nothing. Just bring yourself. Maybe you can wear something more fitting; you know… for the ranch.”
Jackie felt her cheeks flush and tugged her handbag higher across her chest.
Those around looked up as lobby lights again began to flicker, and car alarms resumed blaring noisily in the parking lot.
Chapter 9
Tow, spewing and retching, had vomited eleven separate times and counting. He wished there was a way to erase the last three hours and ten minutes from his memory. Even though the bodies were more like gelatinized masses—their internal, skeletal remains still gave them some physicality. Lormin, the captain, had been the worst to see—suffering the least amount of decomposition, he was the most recognizable. But he’d done it all, nevertheless. Scraped and cleaned up the remains of the seven entombed crewmembers, then buried their bodies in separate unmarked graves. Just thinking about it, he felt bile burn the back of his throat. Once inner and outer repairs to the starboard berth compartment were completed, Tow removed his fouled environmental suit and incinerated it.
Returning to the babbling brook site, Tow sat naked on a flat rock, watching the stream as it gently flowed past—errant twigs or leaves caught up in small, twirling eddies, only to be freed moments later to continue their journey.
A breeze suddenly kicked up and he felt its light coolness against his skin. Tree branches, thirty feet above, swayed and made a rustling sound. Tow was aware of the AI’s subtle presence—always lurking within his psyche. He knew that the automated brain wanted to remind him of the impending disaster—one that would most assuredly occur if he didn’t get himself moving.
He’d been alerted by the AI only the previous day that the Howsh’s lead ship had entered into high orbit around Earth. Feelings of dread swept over him. Sitting there—nestled within the lush forest—he’d almost forgotten about his terrible plight. The other two Howsh ships, currently completing their terrestrial scans around Mars, would be following within the next day or two. Their hunt for the Evermore now elevated to a new level. If he kept the ship’s propulsion system inactive, quieted, the odds of being discovered were lowered somewhat. On the other hand—to continue onward with his journey, his mission, while still able—he needed to hastily make the necessary repairs, which meant reinitializing the propulsion system.
Tow, inwardly musing and stuck in his head—approaching concerns from different angles—didn’t notice a new presence nearby.
Cuddy missed Rufus. Looking down, expecting to see him by his side, he was reminded he’d been taken away—in the back of Officer Plumkin’s police cruiser. Momma gave him some easy chores to do this morning—ones that didn’t require heavy lifting due to his bruised ribs.
With breakfast eaten, his chores all done, he was now walking in the woods alone, and it wasn’t the same. Typically, Cuddy liked talking to Rufus, even though the dog couldn’t say anything back. He’d point out things that he found interesting, funny, or weird, and Rufus would look up at him like he understood. Rufus was a smart dog.
So right then, when Cuddy came upon the strangest oddity of all, he looked down to get Rufus’s reaction. Disappointed—not seeing his dog’s friendly face staring up at him—Cuddy brought his full attention to the oddity before him. Now remembering, he had seen him before… the sad-looking angel in his dream? Or was it a dream? It occurred to Cuddy that he might be in danger. The recent encounter with those two tough men near the railroad tracks had taught him a good lesson. One Momma had reminded him of only this morning: Stay away from strangers! But was this, whatever it was, a stranger? Strangers were people. Was this oddity an actual person? That didn’t seem likely.
The odd being was sitting on a large rock, staring down at the water. Cuddy studied the glowing figure, keeping perfectly still, like when he watched a deer family’s approach. The trick was to become quiet in both movement and thought. Cuddy watched the odd one’s face, whose features weren’t that different from anyone else’s. But there seemed to be some sadness about him, and Cuddy wished he could alleviate his unhappiness. He wondered what was making whatever it was feel so sad.
“I get sad, too,” Cuddy said. “Officer Plumkin took my dog.”
The ghostly oddity looked up at him with surprise—with almost panic in his eyes. His mouth moved to speak but no words came out. Cuddy hadn’t expected him to talk, any more than he did Rufus. Taking a tentative step forward, he said, “I sometimes sit on that same rock. Yup… right where you’re sitting.” Cuddy came within several paces then plopped himself down onto a patch of accumulated leaves and pine needles. He looked around the ground and plucked up a small twig. Using it to stir the water, he added, “My name is Cuddy. I think it means donkey in another country.”