The kitchen wall phone began to ring. Startled, Momma’s back turned rigid. Another bill collector? She continued to watch her youngest son for another three rings before breaking away and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, this is the Whiteville Correctional Facility. Will you accept a phone call from inmate Kyle Perkins?”
Momma hesitated, then said, “Yes… yes, of course I will.” She used her fingers to press down on an errant flap of faded wallpaper peeling up from the wall.
She listened to the canned message, explaining that all calls—into and out of the prison—were being recorded. That first year, she’d gone to the penitentiary every other month to see Kyle and found it difficult. He appreciated her visits, but Momma found it emotionally draining. Also, she could ill afford the gas expense for those two-hundred-mile round trips. She glanced at the center of the kitchen table where a stack of opened, unpaid, utility bills occupied the space. Now guilt weighed heavily on her shoulders—she hadn’t seen her eldest son in nearly five months.
“Momma? Are you there?”
“I’m here, son. It’s good to hear your voice. Are you doing okay? I’m sorry I haven’t been by to see—”
Kyle cut her off, “Momma… that’s okay! Look, I’m getting out of here.”
“Getting out?”
“Early parole. Good behavior and the place is way overcrowded.”
“That’s… wonderful, Kyle. When will—”
“Tomorrow. I’m out tomorrow. I’ve got a ride. No need to make the drive all the way up here.”
“That’s fine, dear. Then we’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah… tomorrow. Momma? How’s Cuddy?”
“Cuddy’s the same as he’s always been. He’ll be happy to see you.”
“Okay… well, see you tomorrow, Momma.”
“Goodbye, son.” Momma hung up the phone, continuing to stare at it for several seconds. She should be happy. Kyle’s coming home would make things easier. He’d be able to help her around the ranch, maybe get a job. They certainly could use the money. But still, she was more concerned than happy. Trouble followed Kyle—it always had.
She contemplated telling Cuddy the news, but getting his hopes up, then later dashing them—like times before—wouldn’t be fair to him. This wasn’t the first time he’d called to say he was being released early and was coming home. No… she’d believe it when she saw him.
She walked back into the foyer and looked out through the screen door. Cuddy was still playing with his senseless dog. To Cuddy, the world revolved around his older brother Kyle. Two years his senior, Kyle hadn’t been home in a year and a half. Momma’s expression changed. Kyle caused it—that accident in the barn. The three kids were roughhousing—Kyle, Cuddy, and Jackie. A pretty one… that Jackie; she was now away at college. Cuddy’s age, she was his protector growing up—far more so than Kyle. Their relationship changed over the years, as of course it would; from childhood friends to something else. A shame, Momma thought, diverting her attention away from such possibilities; the ones that might have been—but would never be.
Opening the screen door, she peeked her head out. “You’re getting filthy rolling around out there! Did you forget what I asked you to do this morning?”
Cuddy stopped wrestling with the dog and sat up. Dirt clung to his cheeks where the dog had licked him. “This morning?”
She waited.
Cuddy puffed out his cheeks and made a bewildered expression.
“The store…”
“Oh yeah… I’m supposed to bring back flour. Or was it sugar?”
“Both. That is if you want me to make someone’s favorite dessert.”
“Cobbler?”
“Uh huh… peach,” she added.
Cuddy released his grip on the dog’s tail and climbed to his feet.
“Dust those dungarees off before coming inside. And that dog stays outside!”
She let the screen door close and watched him do as told, then returned to the kitchen. Opening up the first cupboard on the right, she double-checked the shelves. She had plenty of canned Del Monte peaches stacked up there. She next located a bottle of McCormick’s ground cinnamon and shook it. Only a quarter of an inch of the brick-colored granules remained. Needing more of that as well, she added it onto the list for the grocer. Cuddy wouldn’t remember the flour or the sugar—much less the cinnamon.
She closed the cupboard and stepped over to the large kitchen window. She noticed another small hole in the barn’s roof. The ranch was literally falling apart before her eyes. How was she going to pay for needed repairs when she was already six months behind on her mortgage payments? Soon the bank would be taking action, but she couldn’t think about that right now.
Tow quietly backed away from the barn door. The spasms in his injured leg had subsided. He moved through the barn, past the horse, and followed the same route back. Looking first to see that all was clear, he exited from the barn’s other side. The sun had risen higher and, along with it, so had the temperature. He watched a flock of birds flying in unison—first going left, then turning and making a right angle, which took them directly overhead. Birds were fascinating creatures. He’d never seen anything like them. This world certainly had its mysteries.
As Tow hurried into the tree line he ducked behind a large pine, hearing the approach of a noisy vehicle along a nearby dirt road. The AI informed him that the vehicle, with its internal combustion power source, was something called a pickup truck. Blackish smoke puffed out from the rear of the vehicle and hung in the air like a dark cloud. Two male savages were seated inside. As the truck approached, he saw that the occupants were drinking from long-necked brown bottles and were conversing in loud tones; louder than the other two at the farm. Not as mature in age as the gray-haired female, they were closer in age to her large offspring. Twenty paces away, the truck came to a stop. He wondered at first if his presence had been noticed, but watching them, he knew it had not.
Tow continued to watch them. He could see a bizarre kind of posturing taking place, and feel a raw aggressiveness emanating from them both. One had long unkempt hair and a cluster of pimples—called whiteheads, he was informed by the AI—on his cheeks and forehead. Instinctively, Tow didn’t like him. Didn’t like either of them.
Once back within the Evermore, Tow’s presence was requested on the bridge. The AI orb was waiting for him there. He directed him to the viewscape display where he recognized the symbolic representation of the Sol planetary system.
“They’re here… here within the system?” Tow asked, his voice elevated.
“Yes, Captain Tow… unfortunately.”
Tow saw four sets of winding, curved vectors; each set was in a different color. The green vector symbolized the path the Evermore had taken, prior to landing on Earth. The other three—red, yellow, and violet—showed the pursuing Howsh, which were apparently scouting from one planet to another. Circling planets multiple times, landing and taking off—over and over again—they were hunting.
“What is that planet there?”
The AI said, “That is Saturn, Captain.”
Tow wanted to leave, make a run for it right then.
“Saturn is a large planet. Based on the area already systematically traversed, they won’t move on to Jupiter for another ten hours and nine minutes. It’s clear they know we are close… within this system.”