I looked around nervously, half expecting to see poots hanging from the ceiling, climbing out of the dressers, oozing under the door.
“Poots are very important,” said Hoo-Lan happily.
“Poot!” said the poot as Duncan squeezed it.
I blacked out and fell off the bed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Connections
I woke to find a pair of unfamiliar faces in front of me and a painful head bump behind me.
After a second, I realized that the strangers staring down at me were Duncan and Hoo-Lan, still in their Roger and Sharleen masks.
I was getting a little sick of everyone going around wearing faces that weren’t their own. I wanted to rip off my own mask, which suddenly felt suffocating. But then my father or Ms. Schwartz might see me, and who could tell what kind of trouble that might create?
“I knew there was a connection!” said Hoo-Lan joyfully.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked as Duncan helped me to my feet.
“People, poots, and telepathy,” said Hoo-Lan. “You and Duncan have been telepathically linked before, with the help of machines. I don’t think we need machines. I want to get past that, and the poots seem to help somehow. I think they’re like an antenna for your brain.”
“Probably I’d better not squeeze this one anymore,” said Duncan, looking at his poot doubtfully. “It seems to have a very close connection with Peter.”
“That may have to do with the times that you two have been mentally connected through machines,” said Hoo-Lan. “We’ve got psychic wires crossing here that I can’t understand yet.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “How about we all link minds and face the end of the world together?”
“Don’t be so gloomy,” said Hoo-Lan. “If you’re all right, why don’t you call the others and ask them to come get you?”
That was fine with me. Settling down on the lower bunk, I took my URAT from my pocket and tried to contact Broxholm or Kreeblim. I got no answer, which worried me. I hoped nothing had happened to them.
“I’ll try again in a few minutes,” I said, “every five minutes until I reach them.”
“In the meantime, I’ll show you around,” said Duncan. “It’s a strange place, but I kind of like it.”
“Okay,” I said. “Give me a tour. You coming—Sharleen?”
Hoo-Lan shook his head. “I have work to do. I’ll see you later.”
I’m sure you will, I thought. Out loud, I said, “Fine. See you soon.”
“Why are you two staying here?” I asked Duncan as we started down the hall. I thought I might get a different answer out of him once we were away from Hoo-Lan.
But he pretty much stuck to the same line. “Hoo-Lan didn’t want to join up with you guys yet, for whatever reason. It’s hard to know what he’s planning from one minute to the next.”
“I’ve noticed!”
“Anyway, we could have stayed in a hotel, but he said he would learn more by being here. I’m sure he chose the place because Ms. Schwartz works here.”
“How did that happen?” I asked.
“I asked her that myself. ‘Well, Roger,’ she said, ‘I used to be a sixth-grade teacher. Then I had a very strange experience.’ Of course, I knew what the experience was, since I was part of it—but I couldn’t tell her that, because I’m in disguise.” He paused. “It’s weird to talk to people I know without having them know it’s me. Anyway, Ms. Schwartz said that after her experience she decided to make some changes in her life. The only thing she was certain of was that she wanted to continue to work with kids. After considering one thing and another, she ended up here.”
“And my father?” I asked, feeling myself grow tense even as I managed to get the words out of my mouth.
Roger/Duncan shrugged. “He hasn’t been the same since you left. But I don’t know how he got hooked up with Ms. Schwartz. Maybe you should ask him yourself.”
Fat chance, I thought. Then I realized that maybe I could.
After all, as long as I had my mask on, he would never even know it was me asking.
Duncan showed me the rooms along the hallway. They were all pretty much the same as the one where he was staying, with three bunk beds and three dressers. Sometimes they had posters on the walls and on the doors. They were all moderately neat. Then he took me to the kitchen, a huge room where they had pots big enough to sit in. A swinging door from the kitchen led back to the main room, where I had seen my father and Ms. Schwartz. We peeked around the door. The group was still meeting.
“Let me try to reach Broxholm again before we go out there,” I whispered to Duncan.
He nodded, and we took a couple of steps backwards. I pulled out my URAT. To my relief, Broxholm answered almost at once. But no sooner had his face appeared on the screen than a voice behind me growled, “What’s that? One of those pocket TVs? What’re you looking at, a movie?”
Before I could answer, a dirty hand flashed over my shoulder and snatched the URAT away from me.
I spun around. “Give it back!” I bellowed, my heart pounding with several kinds of fear.
“Buzz off, you little weenie!” said the kid holding my URAT. He was a head taller than me, and had muscles on his muscles, which were easy to see since he was wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves torn off. I noticed a lot of little burn marks on his forearms, and wondered what had driven him to run away from home.
“Ernie,” said Duncan quietly, “why are you bothering my friend?”
“I ain’t bothering him,” said Ernie. “I just wanna look at his TV set.”
“You’re bothering him,” said Duncan firmly.
“Well, I didn’t mean to,” said Ernie, starting to blush. “Here,” he said, handing back the URAT. “Sorry.”
“Thanks, Ernie,” said Duncan.
“So, can I see it?” said Ernie politely. “I won’t hurt it, I promise.”
I was so astonished it took me a moment to answer. Finally I said, “Yeah, you can see it. But be careful. Here, let me set it up for you.”
Broxholm and I had already worked out what to do if I got into a situation like this. I made a few adjustments to the URAT’s controls, then handed it to Ernie. “It doesn’t work very well,” I said apologetically as I handed him a viewscreen showing a picture of “The Brady Bunch.”
Suddenly the screen fuzzed and went blank—just as I had programmed it to do.
“Hey!” I yelled. “You broke it!”
“No, I didn’t!” protested Ernie, handing it back to me. “I didn’t do a thing, I swear!”
“Ernie, I’m really disappointed in you,” said Duncan.
“I didn’t do anything!” protested Ernie, louder than before.
Suddenly the door behind us swung open. “What’s going on here?” asked a male voice.
I stuffed the URAT in my pocket. Turning, I found myself face to face with my father.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Catastrophe
I waited for him to recognize me, to say something, then remembered with a start that I was still wearing a mask.
“No real trouble, Mr. Thompson,” said Duncan. “We had a disagreement, but it’s been taken care of.”
My father nodded. “Thank you, Roger. Care to introduce me to your friend?”
Duncan hesitated, then said, “This is Stoney.”
“Does he need to stay here for a while?” asked my father.
“That’s sort of up in the air,” replied Duncan. “We’ll know later this evening.”
“Well, why don’t the three of you come join us? The discussion is pretty interesting.”
“I have to go to the bathroom first,” I said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Down that way and to the right,” said my father.
I thanked him and practically ran in the direction he was pointing—not because I had to go to the bathroom, but because I wanted to get in touch with Broxholm again. In the bathroom I whipped out my URAT and made
the call. Broxholm’s face appeared on the screen almost instantly.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
“Slight problem. Nothing major. I have—”
“Good. We’re in the middle of something ourselves. But I’ve got a fix on your location now. We’ll come get you as soon as possible.”
He broke off the connection. I figured they must have something pretty intense going on. I was a little worried, but I thought they could probably handle whatever it was.
I wandered slowly back through the kitchen. I wasn’t quite ready to sit in that group with my father and Ms. Schwartz. I wanted to figure out how I felt about the idea of their dating each other first. But I couldn’t; it was too weird to make sense of.
Finally I went and joined the circle. A bunch of tough-looking boys and girls, most of them older than me, were talking about how they had been treated at home, or why their parents had thrown them out.
I sat and listened quietly. It was terrific to see Ms. Schwartz again; she was the best teacher I’ve ever had, and I had forgotten how much I loved her. (I know you’re not supposed to say that kind of thing, but I have learned a lot from the aliens.)
I wondered how she would react if she knew Broxholm was on his way there that very minute.
Finally I looked at my father.
He was skinnier than when I had left, and his eyes were sad. But he looked a little healthier than the memory of him that I had stumbled across once when I was hooked into Duncan’s mind.
What is he doing here? I wondered.
The discussion was interrupted by a pounding at the door. Several people jumped to their feet. Before anyone could make it to the door, it burst open and Broxholm staggered in. Susan lay stretched across his arms, her head hanging limply to the side. A trickle of blood ran along her cheek.
Broxholm’s grief and rage were clear even through his mask. Kreeblim was limping behind him, her clothes torn and muddy.
“What happened?” I cried, leaping to my feet.
“We were attacked,” said Kreeblim.
I ran to them, as did everyone else in the room. My father reached out and took Susan from Broxholm’s arms. Broxholm swayed; for a moment I thought he was going to fall over. Then he spotted Ms. Schwartz. His eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t know it was him, of course—he was wearing a different face than the last time she had seen him. Besides, her attention was all on Susan, though for that matter she didn’t know it was Susan, either, since she was also wearing a mask.
“Bring her in here, Rod,” Ms. Schwartz said to my father, walking toward a corridor I hadn’t been down yet. My father followed her. So did Kreeblim and Broxholm. So did I. So did everyone else in the room.
“Please, kids, stay back!” said Ms. Schwartz. “You can’t help by crowding.”
Most of the kids started to drop back. But I walked on. So did Duncan.
“I asked you to stay back,” said Ms. Schwartz.
“He comes,” said Kreeblim, pointing at me.
Ms. Schwartz looked at me oddly, then shrugged. “Come along,” she said. I could tell she didn’t know what was going on but figured it wasn’t worth a fight at the moment.
“Him, too,” I said, pointing at Duncan.
Ms. Schwartz nodded and led the way to a small room. It looked like a school nurse’s office, except it didn’t have as much equipment. My father placed Susan gently on the cot. He knelt next to her, put a hand on her forehead, and listened to her breathe.
Ms. Schwartz began dialing the phone. Broxholm started to object, then fell silent.
“What happened?” asked my father.
“We were coming here to get . . . our friend,” he said, gesturing to me. “We were tired, and therefore less watchful than we should have been. The riot downtown still has everyone stirred up; gangs of young people are roaming the streets. One of the gangs attacked us.”
“They said, ‘There’s some aliens! Let’s get them!’ ” whispered Kreeblim.
I wondered how a gang of kids could have known Broxholm and Kreeblim were aliens, until I realized that the gangs were probably just claiming that anyone who happened to look vulnerable was an alien in disguise, and using that as an excuse to attack.
I took some pleasure in imagining what would happen to any gang that attacked Broxholm. As I’ve said, he’s the strongest being I’ve ever met. I had a feeling there were a lot of sorry teenagers out there.
“We managed to escape,” continued Kreeblim, her voice bitter. “But one of the boys threw a rock that hit Susan here on the head.”
“An ambulance is on the way,” said Ms. Schwartz, putting down the phone. “It looks like you two could use some help as well.”
“No!” said Broxholm.
My father and Ms. Schwartz blinked at the strength of his reaction. “No,” he said again, his voice calmer. “No, we’re all right.” He turned toward my father. “How is the child?”
My father looked up. His face was grim, set.
“Not good,” he whispered.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized Susan Simmons might die.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Face-Off
When my father saw the look on my face he glanced at Ms. Schwartz. She nodded back, and he crossed to where I stood. “Come on, Stoney,” he said, “let’s talk a bit.”
I nodded, though I didn’t know how we would talk, since I didn’t think I could speak at all. Susan Simmons was the best person I knew. Bright, funny, and kind, she had plenty of friends—yet she had been willing to be my friend when everyone else brushed me off as a geek. She was the only one who had ever tried to stop Duncan from beating me up (and had gotten herself a black eye in the process). She was a fighter for the good, the kind of kid who would change the world when she grew up, and I couldn’t imagine the world without her.
My father led me into a little room with a desk, a couple of chairs, and a shabby couch. He sat me on the couch.
“I thought you were going to lose it there for a moment, pal,” he said, trying to sound friendly.
He had never called me pal when I was his son.
I closed my eyes. “Susan is my best friend,” I said.
He nodded. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to lose her.” I heard an edge of pain in his voice, the sound of something catching in his throat.
“Did you ever lose someone you loved?” I asked.
He looked at me for a moment without answering, then nodded. “Several times.”
Several times? What did that mean? My mother, maybe. And possibly me, though I found that hard to believe. But that didn’t make “several.” What was he talking about?
I realized that I knew hardly anything about him.
But then, he had never told me.
Of course, I had never asked. I had never had the chance before.
“Who did you lose, mister?”
He shook his head. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
I shrugged. “That’s okay. I don’t talk much about what I feel, either. It’s safer that way.”
He actually laughed then, though it was a small, sad sound. “Okay, Stoney, you nailed me. That’s what I’m supposed to be working on these days—not holding so much inside. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Do you work here?”
“On a volunteer basis. That’s my girlfriend in the other room. I started coming here to pick her up after work. Before I knew it, I was getting involved with some of the kids.”
Why didn’t you ever get involved with me? I wanted to scream. Instead I said calmly, “How did you meet her?”
I really wanted to know that, since he had never bothered to go to school events when I was living at home.
He looked at me for a moment, as if he was trying to decide how much to say. “How much do you know about this alien scare?” he asked at last.
“A little,” I said cautiously.
“Ever hear of a kid name
d Peter Thompson?”
“Maybe. Was he on the news or something?”
“Not really. The authorities pretty much hushed things up. But rumors get around.” He stood up and walked away from me. “Peter was about your age,” he said, glancing out the window.
I tried to make my heart a stone. I knew I had to, or else I wouldn’t be able to hear this, wouldn’t be able to get through it without running from the room. And I had to hear, had to know what he would say.
“So, you knew this kid, Peter?” I prodded.
My father closed his eyes and whispered, “I was his father.” Then he opened his eyes, looked right into mine, and said, “Only I wasn’t very good at it.” He turned away again. “Why am I telling you this story?”
“To take my mind off my friend.”
“Who are you?” he asked, reminding me of the number of times I had asked the same question of Hoo-Lan.
“Stoney.”
He shrugged. “If that’s all you want to tell for now, it’s all right. That’s one of the rules around here: we don’t ask too much right away. Look, Stoney, I don’t know if you’ve run away, how you’re connected to those people in the other room, where your family is, anything about you. Even so, I’m going to tell you the rest of my story, because I think you ought to hear it. Maybe there’s someone who loves you more than you think. Maybe there’s a place you ought to go back to.”
“Interesting idea,” I replied.
“Peter Thompson was my son, and in my opinion he was just about the brightest kid who ever walked the face of the Earth. I loved him more than I can tell you. Only I never showed it very much. I didn’t know how. Happens to some people, men especially. Happens when you never meet your father, and your mother dies when you’re too old to get adopted. Happens when your wife takes off with another guy and you’re left with a kid you love but don’t know how to raise.”