Forest put a hand under Kelly’s armpit and with his other hand on the elbow he gently tugged on Kelly’s shoulder joint.
“Feels really solid in there … I’m surprised, it should still feel like a freshly reduced dislocation, but it doesn’t.”
Matson reached for Kelly’s hand, “Let me have the piece of metal,” he said, starting to uncoil Kelly’s fingers.
Kelly pulled away, “Sorry Ken … let’s just say, for the sake of argument, that we tried your little experiment. You took the piece from me and my shoulder started hurting again … you gave it back, and it stopped.”
All three men turned as a loud clang rang out through the hole in hangar two. Another piece of pipe or other debris had fallen to the floor as the disc continued to right itself. She stood, nearly level, a mere thirty yards from them.
Matson said softly, “It’s healing itself,” then turning to Kelly, “ … like you.”
Kelly said nothing as he walked with Matson and Forest following him toward the opening in the hangar. As they approached, they saw one last slow movement as the starboard landing strut extended another inch. There she sat, perfectly level, the jagged hole in her side now gone, the drive unit, having done its job, now reducing itself to a low hum; idling.
Kelly walked to the portside wing and raised his right hand. Opening his fingers (the piece of metal again stuck to his palm) he laid it on the smooth chrome surface.
With pictures of his far away planet flashing through his mind, he could feel heat building in his hand. When it reached an intensity he could no longer tolerate, he pulled away. Looking at his hand he saw no evidence of a burn, but the little piece of metal was gone. He looked back at the wing in time to see the outline left by it, slowly fading into the wing; leaving only a small blood stain. In a few seconds, that too, disappeared into the wing.
Matson rubbed his hand over the spot, then looked at Kelly, “How does your shoulder feel now, without the metal in your hand?”
Kelly squeezed it with his good left hand, “Feels good … yeah, it feels good.”
They stood, looking at one another, neither of the three wanting to speak first. Finally Kelly offered, with a slight chuckle, “Crazy, isn’t it? This thing … He,” he corrected himself, “Maybe He … really is alive.”
“Yeah,” Matson said, laying a hand on the leading edge, almost hoping to feel something himself, “and it seems, you’re becoming connected, somehow.”
“He?” said Forest, “you’ve been calling it a her,” he stared at the plane, then back at Kelly, “now, all of a sudden, it’s a he?”
“Yes, most definitely … it’s a He,” he paused, looking around, “here,” he said pointing, “help me slide this crate.”
With Kelly guiding, they moved one of the many packing crates into position at the leading edge. Kelly laid a hand on Matson’s shoulder for balance and in two steps, he was on the wing. As he took a couple steps in the direction of the cockpit, Forest asked, “Do you remember where the canopy release is?”
“Oh yeah,” he said, it’s right here.” But instead of bending over to touch the spot that the doctor remembered, he tapped himself on the side of his head, “it’s right here,” he said again. The canopy snapped open with a quick tsssst.
“What in blazes was that?” Forest queried.
Kelly thought for a moment, then remembered that the doctor and Matson were at the far end of the trailer on the other side, when he had first found out how to open and close the canopy.
“Don’t need hands anymore,” he said, “I just think it, and it happens. Seems you were right Ken, I am connecting with this thi__, with Him,” he caught himself. “You’re not going to believe this,” he looked into the open cockpit, “but I think, he thinks I’m his brother … or … he is making me think, I’m his brother. I’m not sure which.”
The two men stared at him.
“Yeah … I know, I know it’s crazy” he shook his head slowly, “but, it seems, the more I made contact with that little piece of chrome … the more I … shoot, I don’t know … the more I wasn’t here, in this place any more. I think I was … where these things, these people, these beings, came from.”
“You mean you went to their planet?” asked Forest.
“No, not really … I think I went there by using his memories. He showed me where he came from … he showed me … himself.”
“And what does this thing, this He … what does he look like?”
“Well, I don’t think I really know. I think he used a human representation of himself.” He turned to Matson, “You’ve read the workup on me, right?”
“Yes.”
“You know I don’t have a brother?”
“Right, no family at all.”
“Well, this person he showed me was himself, but … it was my brother. The feeling was so strong, I couldn’t deny it. I believed it then, and … I’m afraid … I believe it now.”
“But you’ve lost the chrome piece. Its hold on you shouldn’t happen again … right?”
Kelly looked at the open canopy again, then back at Matson, “I don’t think that’s the way it works anymore,” and then to the doctor, “It has my blood. It has a part of me Doc.” He continued to stare at Forest, hoping for an answer.
“Son,” said Forest, “please don’t look to me to explain this one … I missed the whole semester on alien medicine,” he said, grinning sheepishly.
“This is what was happening to Will, isn’t it?” Matson asked.
“Almost,” Kelly responded, “but it wasn’t quite the same. He never cut himself with it. He just handled it; rubbing … you know … you saw him. It messed with his mind. He couldn’t figure out what was happening to him … got his signals crossed. In the end, he fell apart, mentally. When Perkins tried to talk him into turning the disc over to Nevada, Will balked. Thinking he was now the disc’s savior, he attacked Perkins… and that’s when Perkins shot him.”
“So why you … why are you OK?” Matson puzzled.
“I got no idea. Why are people alike in some ways, and different in others? You’re guess is as good as mine.” A movement in the cockpit startled Kelly, “Hey, both of you, step back from the front of the plane. He’s armed the guns.”
As the doctor and Matson moved out of the way, Kelly reached into the cockpit and touched the dash where the red warning light was glowing. It went out. “That’s better,” he started to say, but the light came back on. He touched again. Again it went out, then back on. He tried with his mind this time, and again, the same results.
“I don’t know what’s going on fellas. Make sure you give the front end a wide berth ‘till I figure it out.”
Kelly very gently stepped into the cockpit and with both hands on the canopy rail he lowered himself into the seat. The old and crusty upholstery still hadn’t changed with the rest of the plane.
Forest could see the top of the old seat above the canopy rail, “The seat, and the rest of the plane … a bit of a dichotomy, huh?”
Kelly turned with a puzzled look, “A di … what?”
“Oh, nothing, I just meant, it’s old … the seat … it hasn’t changed.”
“Oh yeah, go figure,” he said as he pushed himself back, feeling the support of the built in lumbar cushion. A sharp pain suddenly burned him in his lower back and he lurched forward, reaching for anything to grab hold of on or under the dash area. Everything was smooth and clean. Even the area under the dash was closed off. He found nothing to give purchase. Visions of the rose colored sky flashed through his mind as he fell back into the seat, twisting, trying to hold his left side up and off of the lumbar support.
“What the hell happened?” Matson yelled.
Kelly, with his senses returning, looked back and down at the spot where the pain had come from. It was the bloody area that had coincided with the wound on Parker’s back. He turned his body enough to sit sideways on his hip and ran his fingers over
the dried blood. There, he pushed harder, separating the covering and then the old horsehair below.
“Hey, take a look at this,” he said down to the two anxious men below. Then, motioning with his hands, “come up and take a look.”
As Forest took a step in the direction of the packing crate, Matson grabbed him by the arm. “Are the guns still armed?” he asked Kelly.
Kelly looked at him for a moment as a calmness seemed to wash over him and very softly said, “Don’t worry Ken,” smiling, “I won’t harm either of you.”
Matson and Forest stood, frozen. ‘Was this still Kelly?’ they thought.
After a few seconds of standing and staring motionless, Kelly asked, “What?” with a puzzled look.
“Kelly?” Dr. Forest questioned.
Continuing to stare, Kelly’s look changed to one of incredulity. “It’s me … Kelly … what’s wrong with you two?”
Still not sure who they were talking to, Matson explained, “You said, YOU wouldn’t harm us,” Forest all but whispered.
“Oh … yeah … well, come on up here and maybe I can explain why. C’mon,” he said again as he saw them hesitate, “nobody’s gonna hurt you … not me … or the plane … c’mon.”
Kelly pushed himself up and stepped out of the cockpit (to the starboard side) as Matson and the Doctor climbed onto the wing and approached.
“Look,” he said kneeling, “here, where Parker’s blood is. One of the cushion springs is broken. This is what injured him. This is why he complained of having trouble with his back.”
The doctor looked up at Kelly, “Don’t you think he would have known the difference between a bad back and a broken spring?”
“No … not necessarily,” he paused, “this spring just did the same thing to me that the little piece of chrome did.”
“But it’s just a rusty old spring,” the doctor offered.
“Look,” Kelly said, pointing at the base of the seat, “see how the floor seems to flow right over the legs of the seat. The whole seat is now just as much a part of the plane as, say, the canopy, or the joy stick. Look,” he said excitedly, “there are no seams … anywhere. This entire plane is one …” he struggled for the right words, “one, living … breathing … thing.”
As the men stared, Kelly continued, “The spring is a conduit, a means of communication. That’s what happened to me just now. I felt the plane … I went home again … well, I mean, … not home … you know … that other place.”
“Seems dangerous to me Kelly,” Matson said.
After thinking a moment, Kelly’s furrowed brow showed his concern. “Yeah Ken, I know … I think you’re right … sort of. This spring, it’s like a direct connection. It’s much stronger than the little piece of metal. In the split second that it touched my back, I was gone, almost completely. The feelings, the emotions … were very strong. I had to fight off the feeling of wanting to lie back against the spring again.”
Matson looked across the cockpit at Kelly, “You’re going to try to fly this, aren’t you?”
“Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“Oh, come on Kelly, under perfect circumstances, maybe, but, you’ve got no obligation whatsoever to climb into this thing and risk your life. This project is all but over. What we need to do now is find a way to get as far away from here as possible.”
“I’m sure you’re right about Nevada,” the doctor broke in, trying to sound convincing, “they’ll be here soon, and there’s no way we’ll be able to stop them this time. There’s bound to be another like Brandt, and when he sees all the damage we’ve done … all the dead, well … the three of us will just sort of dry up and disappear out there behind one of those sand hills,” he nodded to the south.
“Listen, the two of you don’t have to stay here with me, but, I’m stayin’, either way. This is more than the SWIFT project now … I can’t … I … I won’t leave.” They stared at one another. “Go ahead,” Kelly spoke again, “if you leave now you can get to the freeway before sunup. Tucson’s only twenty miles after that. Call one of those friends you’ve got in high places, maybe he can find a way to hide you from the bad guys.”
“And you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah, what are you going to do?”
Kelly paused for a moment, and then, with one of those grins that can come only from a man holding four aces, he said, “Well hell Mister Matson, I am going to do exactly what I came here to do. I’m going flyin’.”
LOOSE ENDS
Matson leaned over and whispered in Forest’s ear. The doctor nodded, apparently in agreement. “OK then, we’re with you. If you can get this thing … Him,” he interjected apologetically, “if you can get Him flying, we’re probably better off here, than out there in the open.”
Kelly smiled softly, wondering if he was about to get two more of his friends killed.
“I need to find something, or some way, to cover this broken spring. Will one, or both of you, climb down and have a look around?”
“I thought you wanted to communicate with … Him.”
“I do, but He has too much control with a direct connection like that. I’m thinkin’ that contact with the joystick is gonna work just fine, and, if I need a better link than that, I’ll open the cut on my wrist and touch Him. That way I’ll save some control for myself.”
As the two men reached the hangar floor, Kelly caught motion in the cockpit again. It was the gun-armed warning light again, and now it was blinking furiously.
“Stand fast, you guys, something’s up. This warning light’s going crazy.”
“Nevada can’t be here already, can they?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he stared at the light, “but something’s bothering Him,” Kelly said, looking back down at Matson. Then, “Hey, where’s the Doctor?”
Matson turned to look around.
“He’s right here,” a deep, clear voice said.
The doctor stepped out from under the far end of the port side wing, a forearm wrapped around his neck on his right side; the barrel of a forty-five caliber Colt was resting against his left temple.
Kelly waited until they stepped into the faint moonlight, hoping to get a look at the man holding the gun. He was hiding behind the doctor, limping badly on a bloody left leg.
“Mr. Kellerman, climb down, now, and please don’t test me.”
It was Brandt.
“Get down! NOW!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the empty hangar. He pushed the Colt harder against Forest’s head.
Kelly walked to the leading edge and slowly stepped down onto the crate, then to the floor.
“Alright, now, everybody outside. Stay to the left edge of the hole in the wall and then move east, away from this thing’s gun ports, and so help me Kellerman, if it moves or makes a sound, I’ll shoot the doctor here.”
They moved along the wall outside until Brandt nearly collapsed behind the doctor.
“Everybody down,” he said, dragging Forest down by his collar. “Kellerman, you and your friend, Matson, right?” Matson nodded, “You and Matson, against the wall, and don’t move. Doc, you take a look at this,” he said, spinning Forest by the shoulder.
His left pants leg had been split from cuff to pocket and as he held it open they could see that he had applied a tourniquet about half way up his thigh. A long gash had been torn on the inside of his leg, starting just above the knee and continuing half way down his calf, exposing the side of his knee joint. His forehead was crossed at the hair line by a large gash, apparently gained when the helicopter hit either the roof or the floor of hangar one. Not being able to stem the blood flow, he continually wiped it from his eyes; first one, then the other.
Forest reached for the tourniquet, loosening it slightly. Brandt winced as he quickly tightened it again, “Oh, that’s not good,” he looked at Brandt, “you’ve nicked the artery, and … you’ve cut the collateral ligament nearly in two, I can’t fix eithe
r here. You’re going to have to continuously loosen the tourniquet to freshen the blood supply to your leg.”
Brandt pushed Forest’s hand away from his wound, and with a disgusted look on his face he said, “What do you think, I just became a soldier yesterday? Tell me something I don’t know.” Then softer, “How long can I do that, before I pass out from loss of blood?”
Forest stared at the gun, and as Brandt lowered it, he offered, “Look, I have no idea how long you bled before you got the tourniquet applied.”
Brandt started to raise the gun again.
“OK,” Forest offered, “at the rate it’s bleeding … I’d say you might have an hour … no more.”
Brandt turned to Kelly. “Then you guys better pray that help … my help, gets here before then, because all you are to me now, are loose ends … and I take care of my loose ends,” he said pointing at Kelly, between the eyes. “Now, Mister Kellerman, tell me about this disc … why does it listen to you?”
Kelly hesitated.
Brandt slid his aim to the right until the wavering front site covered Matson. He pulled the trigger.
“No!” Kelly yelled, as the hammer fell forward and gave off a surprising CLICK.
Brandt had picked the Colt up off the hangar floor. It had apparently fired when it contacted the solid concrete surface. The weight of the soldier carrying it, kept the slide from moving enough to chamber the next round.
Kelly yelled, “No!” again, as Brandt pulled the slide, chambering a good round and sending the spent cartridge flying, “No, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“I’m waiting,” Brandt said, putting the front site on Kelly’s head once again.
Kelly stammered, ‘Where to start,’ he thought. “Yeah, it’s true … this thing … He … we … we communicate ….”
“He?” Brandt questioned.
“Yes, it’s a he.”
Brandt looked to the opening in the side of the hangar, then back at Kelly. He motioned with the Colt for Kelly to continue.
“When I touch Him, He talks to me … sort of.”
“You mean he actually talks … to you.”