The son of a bitch could fly.
Chapter 29
Everything about him exuded melancholy. There was no longer any point in carrying on the pretense. His identity had been discovered by both Sam and Happy.
Not that he really minded all that much. After all, it had been tiresome impersonating a human. So many exhausting emotions that had needed to go into the part in order to perform well. For many year-spans now he’d been playing that charade. Yes, Per was wearied.
Primarily, he was weary of humans. Per found them, overall, to be a tiring race.
In all the time that he had lived among them, they had never understood. As a whole, they were a race who firmly believed they existed with the absolute right to be happy. They have never comprehended that true happiness was not a right at all - it was an achievement. Something that needed to be diligently worked towards with integrity and principles.
Per sighed heavily. There was no denying that in all of his duration spent on this planet he had formed close relationships with a few, special humans. People who, when their lives had stopped, he had missed for a very long time afterwards.
Samantha was, perhaps, the most special of all. To Per, she embodied all that was fine and exceptional about the human race.
When he was younger, he had eagerly and utterly unsuccessfully tried to help guide various humans he had met to a more righteous path. Once, years ago, he had even been severely admonished by the Assembly for his endeavors. After all, he was there as an observer only and as such was expected to maintain a hands off attitude. It had taken many years of co-habitation on Earth before Per was able to admit to himself that this was a race who would never entirely evolve spiritually. Sadly, they would never learn how to bring about their own fulfillment. It wasn’t that they didn’t have a fine potential. It was just that the human race, as a whole, was a race devoid of consciousness.
Yes, he would honestly miss her when the time came. And the time was coming soon.
He had been foolhardy to have impulsively saved her life the previous night. To what purpose? He had only prolonged the inevitable.
Ruefully, Per gave himself a mental shake. He had a great deal to do. He needed to prepare for the final Event.
Chapter 30
In the end, it was the absolute realization that it was all over that resolutely made up Happy’s mind.
He’d lived a lot in his eighty plus years - it had been one hell of a continuous party. Looking back over it all, Happy couldn’t find too many regrets. He’d always done the best with whatever he’d been dealt. More importantly than that, he’d never whined.
Sure, he would have liked to have had a family like most men. Especially now, in his last years, it would have meant a lot to have children and grandchildren about. But for decades now Happy had been telling anyone who asked that he’d just never found a woman who suited him well enough. The real truth of the matter, though, was that no self-respecting woman would take him and his habits on for any memorable length of time.
"Suppose this is as good a time as any to face up to my drinking problem." He mumbled sullenly to Spike, who licked his hand anyway.
Good, old Spike. Happy gave the dog a vigorous scratching behind his ear. Hell, a man couldn’t ask more from a steady companion. He didn’t argue, didn’t complain and never once got upset when he came home stinking drunk.
Wanda and Sam were the only two people who meant anything at all to Happy. At least, he corrected himself, Wanda HAD meant something. Now that she was gone, he knew that nothing would ever be the same for him again. His and Wanda’s friendship had gone back a lot of years. He’d gotten sort of accustomed to it after all this time.
And as for Sam, well, she was like the kid of his own he’d never had.
Guess there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for her.
Well, old man, he smiled grimly to himself, let’s see if that’s true.
Happy shut Spike up in the rusty Ford Fairlane, leaving the windows cracked just enough to allow air to seep through but not enough for the dog to escape. He rubbed Spike’s head apologetically before closing the car door, "Sorry, boy. You can’t come with me this time."
Determinedly gripping his Winchester, Happy set out to find Per.
Chapter 31
It was late afternoon before Martha gave her grudging permission for Kevin to drive Sam home. By then, Sam had a massive headache that was only being compounded by all the children’s noise.
Exuding a sigh of relief, Sam leaned momentarily against the inside of the door savoring the silence around her. Slowly, she made her way to the kitchen. The back door had been left wide open from the night before, but aside from a thoroughly soaked kitchen floor and rug, there was no major damage done. Swans Island didn’t have much of a crime rate. Sam shut and locked the door before going up the back staircase to her bedroom.
She had made up her mind. She was going to Boston. Jake would have to listen to her if she showed up on his doorstep. And if he wouldn’t, well, she would just find someone else who would. Somewhere, there had to be someone who would believe her.
Quickly, she stripped off the filthy and tattered clothes, kicking them into a corner of the bathroom as she gratefully stood under the steaming shower. After last night’s ordeal, the steady pounding of the water against her bruised body felt nothing short of therapeutic. She was heavily tempted to linger, but knew she needed to hurry if she intended to make the 4:15 ferry off the Island.
Stopping at her desk only long enough to collect the small disc and her data - filled bag, Sam was out the door in a record twenty minutes. She fumbled in her bag for the keys as she ran to her car. After a few moments of frustration she finally located them and hurriedly turned the ignition. The clock on the dash read 4:08. She was going to make it on time after all.
Sam rapidly backed the car up, spinning gravel out from under her tires as she did so. Throwing the gear shift into drive, she shoved her foot down hard on the accelerator. She had almost reached the end of her driveway when the exit was suddenly blocked by the unexpected appearance of the Volkswagen bus.
Even with both her feet jammed on the brake, Sam couldn’t stop the car quickly enough at that speed on the dirt. She braced herself as best she could as her car continued to slide and then loudly but harmlessly crashed into the old bus.
Per was at her car door before she could get it open. He said nothing as he firmly took Sam by the elbow and propelled her out of the car. Stridently, Sam tried to shake his hand from her arm but Per would not relax his grip on her.
She faltered, stumbling to keep up as he strode purposely back down the long drive towards her house.
By the time they had reached the porch, Per was practically dragging her.
"Come on, Samantha," he said tightly, as he pulled her up over the steps and through the front door into the house. Once inside, he relinquished his iron grasp on her arm.
Rubbing the blood flow back into her numb right arm, Sam furtively glanced about.
I could try to run, she thought. But she knew that would be useless. Even if she could somehow get out of the house away from Per, where would she go? She was on an island, for Christ’s sake. Where the hell was she going to run to?
Watching her closely, Per saw her eyes alter as she quickly discarded one notion of escape after another. He didn’t want to harm her, but he knew he could not let her go now.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" Sam asked him grimly.
Immediately Per’s body relaxed. She was accepting the situation with, if not absolute grace, at least good sense.
"Please," he said, pointing to the parlor.
But instead of sitting, Sam started frantically going through her desk drawers.
"What are you looking for, Samantha?" Per tensed, thinking about the gun she kept somewhere. He was relieved, however, when she produced an unopened pack of cigarettes instead.