The next couple
of days were a blur as I wanted to try to get the garage up and running
before the weekend was over. I loaded up the truck with my
roll-aways. I have two loaded with regular and speciality
tools. I got to the hanger and unloaded before I rode into
town. I started on B. B.'s Deere right after breakfast at
Charlene's. I thought I might have to grind two of the outlet
valves. They were all deposited with diamond-hard carbon. I
had to replace the distributor because the old one was cracked on the
side from excessive heat. I had the engine apart in a hour and
working on the valves. Good engineering at Deere makes it easier
to work on their machines than some.
Kansas Power
& Light arrived around ten o'clock, armed with a sheaf of drawings
Gary must have given them the previous afternoon. They were
pretty good guys, made a couple of tests of the circuits for load
carrying capacity, and switched the power on around dinner time.
Of course, by that time, I'd already done the grinding on the valves
using my little generator. It was good to know I had power.
One more hurdle out of the way.
I called B.B.
that afternoon to let him know his Deere would be ready for pick-up
that evening, but his phone just rang. I figured he'd forgot to
put on his answer recorder. The rest of the day I hosed out the
shop, uncovered the machinery in the first three work bays, moved a lot
of junk I wouldn't need, and put some of it away over the top of the
shop. There was a complete two by four decking that doubled as a
strong flat roof for the shop and ran the entire length. The old
monoplane up there was just a shell. The engine and prop was gone, and
a lot of the copper wiring had been pulled out. I power-hosed out
the dust on the hangar floor, or at least a good part of it. I
just hosed it out the back door.
I got home late,
fed the hens, and stuffed my belly. I was really hungry, even
though I'd eaten a first rate warm-up from Charlene's for dinner.
I ate the other half of the chicken, a load of greens and carrots, a
whole frozen packet of last winter's squash, a quart and a half of
fresh cold milk, some cheese and crackers, and a couple of pieces of
fruit. My gums ached, but I ate it all the same. I even sat
on the porch for a few minutes, downing a finger of bourbon with a
splash of water in two sips.
The sunset was
long gone, replaced by a slightly red line on the Southwest
horizon. My mind was full of a mish-mash of thoughts about the
shop, Groth, the things that were happening to my body, my handsome
young share-cropper neighbor, and the mechanics who were coming for
interviews tomorrow. I sat there for a few minutes, relaxing, got
up, washed the glasses and headed up to bed.
When I showered,
I was afraid to look, but I couldn't stop myself. My body was
still shedding hair. There was another pile of it in the drain.
There was red skin all over my chest and forearms, my lower legs, and
what looked like blonde hairs growing in a patch in the middle of my
chest. It looked like peach fuzz. My muscles were more
taught and ropy under my skin, and I seemed thinner somehow.
Rueful Roger wasn’t so rueful looking anymore. I could swear he
was thicker, longer, and smoother than I ever remembered. I was
tired of being worried about what was happening to me, so I jerked off
and went to bed. I don't remember my dreams, but apparently
jerking off wasn't enough. The next morning my pajama bottoms
were sticky with semen or my own lube when I woke to Chester's clarion
call.
I did the
chores, then did something I never did before. I got so horny I
couldn't think straight watching old Chester mount one of his harem and
then another, taking advantage of the grain on the ground like
always. I walked over to the side of the house, stood there in
the dawn, dropped my levis and jerked off. I was thinking about
holding and kissing that handsome, smiling, wholesome face, of my
neighbor, young Billy.
B.B. called me
at breakfast at Charlene's while I was mopping up the last of an egg
yolk with a remnant of biscuit. We made arrangements for me to
drive his Deere to his place, and he'd carry me home that
evening. I said he'd also drive me to the hangar the next
morning. He didn't have my phone number at home, and said he
didn't want to bother me the night before. I reminded him he
didn’t need an excuse to stop by.
I spent the
whole day at the hangar, setting up two work bays, calling around to
see who might be available in the way of decent mechanics. I made
arrangement for a couple to stop by and see if they were
interested. I told them I'd pay scale to start, but no benefits
for the first year. I’d arrange for medical after that, and a
pension plan after that. Nobody seemed to worry about it. I
power-hosed out the hangar again, just to keep the dust down. The
markings on the concrete might as well have been painted the month
before, they were so fresh looking. When I left at six, the shop
was ready for bear. After I dropped the Deere at B.B.'s place, he drove
me home on his way to Charlene's for supper. There was an
embarrassing silence between us until we were at my front door.
"Okay if I stop
on the way back for a few minutes?" he asked, a little shyly.
"Be wrong not
to." I said, feeling a little edgy for some reason. "See
you later, Farmer Taggert." He gave me a grin and a half-ass
salute, and roared off down the drive towards town. I fed the
hens, then zapped an Elva special in the microwave. I ate it all
and washed it down with a quart of milk. I found some leftover
roast beef, a can of chile, and some leftover fruit salad. It
seemed like I was eating a lot more since,— well, admit it, since I got
fired, but I didn't seem to be crapping anymore than usual.
I was peeing a lot more often; almost every half hour or so. I
wasn't getting fat that I could tell. Scales don’t lie. When B.B. got to
the house, Jerry had come over and was on the porch with me, talking
about the primaries. B.B. only had a finger of whiskey and a
couple of minutes jaw time with us before taking his leave and heading
home. He looked tired, but handsome as ever. I wondered if
he'd been up late with Beth Adams the night before, and at once felt a
touch of I-don't-know-what, maybe parental concern he was wasting time
on her? Worried about his health? Jealousy? Of what,
I didn't dare ask myself, his youth? Not really. Who would
want to be so young, just starting out, with all the uncertainties in
the world, alone, by himself?
That was the
night Jerry finally told me that he didn't figure he'd make next
spring's planting, seeing as how the cancer was creeping through his
liver. I'd never let on I already knew. I knew, because Doc
Andy Johnson had filled me in, but swore me to keep my counsel. I
really didn't want to know. Jerry wanted me to promise to look
after Elva, as if I wouldn't. He told me he didn't want a long
drawn-out passing. He said Andy promised him once the end
started, he'd make sure it was quick and painless.
Andy's a good
man, good as his dad. He'd never make one of his 'family' go
through a long time of suffering. I swore to him he would be able
to look down and see Elva was being looked after proper. I didn't
cry until I was in my bed, and let the sobs go through me. Jerry
is more like my brother than a real brother. He’s been so good to
Elva, never pounded on her, ever, and honored her his whole life.
Jerry told me a few years ago that he was still a virgin when he and
Elva married, and he'd never so much as kissed another woman on the
lips since they went on their honeymoon. They took a paddlewheel
steamer all the way from Kansas City to New Orleans then took the train
back.
When B.B. picked
me up the next morning in his big Ram pickup he already had a cup of
fresh-brewed coffee in the holder for me. Just like I like it,
too. Just a drop of cream to round off the corners. He must
have talked to Charlene. He said the Deere sounded better than
ever, and asked me how he was to pay, by scrip or have the bank pay me
and add it to his loan account. I told him I never took the
bank's blood money, and he was to pay me when he got the money from his
crops, and breakfast was included, thank you very much. He just
gave me one of his best, big toothy smiles. Damnation, he was a
handsome man. We ate in the second booth, and talked about
everything and nothing. I don't remember hardly any of our
conversation except I was drowning in his smile, his wit, his love of
life, and his enthusiasm. I was sorry later to see him leave
after a quick zip up to the hangar to let me off after coffee and a
platter. He's got his work in front of him on that old farm all
on his own. It’s a big job for two let alone for one.
I ate with Elva
and Jerry a couple of times that week, and they filled me in on the
latest on my two nephews, Dave and Darrell. Dave was in Phoenix
working for some computer chip company, and Darrell was stationed at
some Air Force base in Southern California. They each had two
kids, all boys, in high school or college, all looking fine in the
dozens of pictures they sent home instead of coming for a visit.
I haven't ever met any of them except Darrell's first wife. She
gave him no kids, a big car payment, and maxed out all his credit cards
in just six months before she ran off with another guy. I didn't
like her when I met her, but I kept my mouth shut. At least my
nephews carried on the family, if not the name.
Elva sent me
home with a basket full of frozen meals to use those nights when I
don't have the energy to cook for myself. She's the kind of
sister only a few of us are lucky enough to have. I wondered how
she would cope without Jerry.
I hoped maybe
B.B. would stop by for a jaw of an evening, but he didn't. No point in
being disappointed. What does a young buck like him have in
common with an old goat like me?
A day or two
later, I hired a young guy from Grainfield named Rob Greene who worked
at Sweeney's for five years. He would be my second mechanic, and
his cousin Cory Fox I took on as an apprentice. Rob was
twenty-seven, knew engines pretty well, but not perfect. I wasn't
looking for a master. I was looking for a man who wasn’t afraid
to work and learn. Cory was nineteen, and struck me as a
bright young fellow. You could tell he worshiped Rob, so I
figured he'd do whatever it took to learn enough to make his cousin
proud.
They both
started on Monday, just when I got in the first emergency, old man
Dreeson's eighty-six Deere. It blew the side out of the main seal
someone put in with a crease. Sweeney cut a few too many corners
these last couple of years. It took Rob about and hour longer
than it would’ve taken me, but he's young, he'll learn. Cory was
like a happy pup, fetching tools, wiping grease, and absorbing
information. You could almost see his tail wag every time Rob
said 'thanks.'
Working with
them was becoming a real pleasure after old Will and Ronnie. They
joked around a little, had a good laugh at their own expense, and
livened the place up a bit. Plus, they were both willing to
learn, and didn't put up a wall of indifference. They got to work
early, went home on time or later if there was still work to be done,
and they worked diligently. What more could I ask. A couple
of times, I thought maybe they were a little too joined at the hip, but
chalked that up to my being an old fart.
During the week,
Deere shipped me a diagnostic unit at no charge up-front, agreeing to
credit me a 5% commission on Deere parts or equipment sold until the
unit was paid off. Cat didn't go quite as far, but they only made
me pay 25% down, with a 7.5% commission override pay-down, then the
fixed rate of 8%. Their unit arrived the same afternoon. IH
cut me the same deal as Deere. I figure they were all
worried how the disappearance of Sweeney's would cut into their
sales. And, like I said, there wasn't another decent garage for
fifty miles. ( Hope that offends you, Ronnie.) I didn’t foresee
how Ron was going to stay in business. By the end of that week I
figured with promises and 'handshake contracts' I cornered a little
over eighty-five percent of the repair market in our area. I began taking
aspirins four times a day for the pain in my gums. I made an
appointment with Doc Friedman in Salina on Tuesday. My skin felt
like I had poison oak. It was constantly itching, especially my
scalp, which now had a sort of dandruff or something that caused my
scalp to flake off. All my toenails were about to fall off.
The small ones already had, and new ones were growing in. I was
getting headaches when I read lately with my glasses. I suddenly
realized I didn’t need them to see anymore. I could see just fine
up close and far away. I could feel a dull ache everywhere inside
my body. I was also jerking off every night out of
necessity. I wasn’t thinking of things passed. I couldn't
keep from thinking about young Bill. I tried to think bout Mary
but my mind would keep drifting to my neighbor. I felt guilty as
hell after every session, but it felt so damn good. It also felt
right.
Tuesday morning
I worked with Rob and his cousin showing them how a seal should get
spread not to wrinkle up when the reassembly was going on. Later
in the day I took my old pickup into Salina to see Abe Friedman about
my teeth. I got ushered right into his chair, unlike the last
time, when I had to wait nearly an hour past my appointment time before
he saw me.
"So what's going
on in that big mouth of yours, G.B.?" He's called me G.B. ever
since I started going to him. He told me he had another patient
named Graham Barker, and didn't want to get himself confused. He
had his back to me, looking at the charts.
"My dentures
hurt like hell, Abe. I use double the adhesive, like you told me,
but I can't get them comfortable for the life of me."
Abe turned on
the powerful overhead light and looked down at me. He just looked
at me and didn't say nothing for a minute.
"You,— uh,— have
some kinda face-lift, Graham?"
"Don't be daft,
Abe. That's for women in Hollywood."
"Something tells
me you’re either a good liar or you been getting some." he
laughed, "I've never seen you looking so,— healthy."
"Yeah, funny
thing," I answered him, a little nervously. "My nose seems
to a’ shrunk some. I don't know why, though. I ain't
stopped drinking bourbon."
"Any other
changes?"
"Yeah, well, I
got fired at Charlie's, and I'm setting up on my own."
"Do it every
time!" he chuckled, "You're probably working so hard,
you're burning off fat,— even the fat in your face! Let's see
what's going on in your pie hole."
I opened wide,
and he felt my gums with his rubber-gloved fingers.
"Yep, they’s all
swollen up." he said, "You ‘lergic to anything?"
"Lawyers,"
I said, "and expensive dentists."
"Who
ain’t?” he chuckled, “Let's get an X-ray, full mouth,
eh?" he said more seriously.
So I followed
him into his small X-ray room, put my chin on the steel cup, he left
the room, pressed a button, and the machine whizzed around from left to
right. He surprised me, he didn’t use a thick film, just a
light-colored piece of soft plastic in my mouth. He told me it
was the latest technology, computer stuff he didn't even pretend to
understand. By the time I was back in the chair, he'd checked for
something on my upper jaw, felt around for Cancer, his assistant
brought in the picture. He sat on a stool, looked at it for a few
minutes, pulled another piece of film out of his folder, looked at it
for a while, and then back at the new one.
"This may hurt a
little." he said as his fingers went back into my mouth. Some men
are blessed with small hands, and I was glad his were about the
smallest. He rubbed my gums on the top and the sides in a couple
of places, asking if there was any sharp pain. I told him it was
just a dull ache except in a couple of places where it hurt pretty bad,
but it was a dull pain, not sharp. "Looks like you
have some bone fragments, maybe even tooth fragments in your old tooth
sockets." he said. "Probably reacting to a change in diet,
just a little inflamed. What I don't like, is that there's one in
every socket, about the size of a pencil lead, right at the
bottom." He picked up the new film and showed it to me.
"See where these
little devils are?" He pointed out white spots well below the gum
surface, in the midst of the bone. Looked like sharp little teeth
to me. No wonder they hurt.
"So,— what does
that mean?" I asked him, afraid of his answer.
"We're gonna’ to
have to keep an eye on ‘em, and if they grow at all, we'll have to go
in and take them out. Sometimes the body tries to make a new
tooth where the old one was if it gets pulled. Never gets to be
much of a tooth though. Never saw all of 'em start flaring up
like that before."
“Woah, woah,
Hoss. What’s the chance I’m going through a 'second childhood'
and I’m grow’n a second set?” He chuckled but then looked serious.
“I doubt
seriously you’re going through a second childhood, but I’ve heard of
more remarkable things than that happening. There’s always a
possibility but not very likely.”
"Great.
You told me when you yanked ‘em out the first time, at the worst I’d
have a receding gum line. I never thought I'd have to go through
it again!" Getting thirty-two teeth pulled at once ain’t no trip
around the May pole, believe me. Wish’t I'd had my teeth cleaned
more often, then I wouldn’t have had all them abscesses and cavities,
much less the thing that makes the bone melt.
"Well, here's
another option. We'll fit another set of plates, bigger pockets,
and see if that solves the problem." he said as he pulled out the
drawer full of upper and lower ready-mades. Twenty minutes later,
I walked out with a new set of chompers, a mouth full of that cinnamon
clove adhesive flavor, and a heavier credit card. Four hundred
sixty bucks heavier to be exact. At least it didn't hurt so much
to bite down, but the ache was still there.
I drove back to
Katy, stopping at Wal-Mart at the big center outside Salina to pick up
a few things, some new T-shirts and boxers to replace the ones that
were getting frayed. The store was packed, but I felt a lot
better once I was back on the Interstate away from all those people.
I didn't bother
to go back to the hangar, as it was already supper time by the time I
got there. I threw together a chicken, green bean cobble, baked
it in the oven, ate and washed up. Abe was right, it didn't hurt
so much to chew, but my gums were still tender. They ached like
the little devils were tap-dancing underneath my plates.
After I did the
evening chores, I was setting on my porch with a fine sunset on the
screen, working on a second finger of bourbon, sort of deadening the
hurt, when a set of headlights game up Gove towards Katy. I was
surprised to see B.B. turn into the drive, then drive up in his Ram,
get out, and step up to the porch. I figured maybe he had a
problem with the Deere again. I resigned myself to go out and
look at it, despite my aching gums and burning skin.
"Hey," he
said at the bottom of the steps.
"Hey,
B.B." I answered, "Thirsty?"
He grinned at
me. "Thought I'd take you up on your offer," he said,
coming up the steps. "Got sick from the sound of my own voice."
I pulled the
bottle of bourbon out from the rack under the table, and showed him the
label.
"This do
you?" I asked. "I got Jack in the house, and I think I got
Scotch summers around here."
"Bourbon does me
fine." he said as he settled into the chair across from me at the
table and I produced a glass. "Fine show tonight."
"Ayuh," I
reckoned, pouring a couple of fingers for him. "We're truly
blessed." I handed him the glass.
"To friends and
nature," he said, in a mock toast, raising his glass to his lips.
I raised my
glass to him as well, looking at the notch in his cheek where the
cheekbone and brow created an almost semi-circle, and his eyelashes
stood out against the orange-white cumulus low on the northwest horizon.
"To
friends." I agreed.
"You losin'
weight, Graham?" he asked out of the blue.
"Nope!" I
said with a grin. "I actually put on a couple a’ pounds last time
I got on the balance."
"You look,
thinner,— maybe a little younger."
"It's all this
work at the hangar, maybe," I said. I noticed it too,
though. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something going
on with my body I didn't understand. The creases were gone from
my forehead, around my eyes, and on my arms and neck. My belly
seems to be getting less loose, and the moles and blemishes on my chest
and shoulders seem to be fading away. My face didn't look right
to me, it was changing.
"Doing you a
pile of good, I reckon." he said, looking away from my chest.
"I sleep good,
that's for sure," I chuckled.
"I wanted to ask
you something," B.B. said after a long pause. "Something kind
a’,— uh,— personal."
"Ayuh," I
said, afraid to say any more. It sounded a little serious.
"Well,— I,— I's
just wonderin' if, maybe, you,— I mean,— being out here all alone and
all,— if, maybe,— you wouldn't mind having supper with me some time or
other. I enjoyed it last week when we talked over dinner at
mom's."
I looked at him
out of the corner of my eye. He was staring at his hands,
twisting his glass like a young fella asking for a date.
"I'd like
that." I said softly. "I'd like it a lot."
"I don't cook a
lot." he said after he let out a long breath. "Don't seem
to make sense to cook for just me, but I'd like to fix you a
meal. Just down home stuff, you know, nothin' special."
"That’s fine,
B.B.," I said, "I know how lonely it can get by yourself on
a farm. I went through that for a long time after Mary passed."
He didn't say
anything.
"When's best for
you?"
"I thought maybe
tomorrow if that’s okay with you?" he said. "I got a calf I
had to put down Thursday, the one with weak legs snapped its foreleg,
and my freezer won't hold any more of it. Mom's got half of it in
hers. I hung it for two days, so it should be tender."
"Be a pleasure,
B.B.," I said, "I ain't been in that house since Hal and
Lynn's silver anniversary, maybe five years ago. It was a real
party."
"I'd like to
have a party some day." he said, "Have the neighbors over
for barbecue and cider, maybe."
He looked at me
for a minute, not sipping or nothing, just looking for words.
"I get,— I miss
having,— all my friends from school have gone you know, they got jobs
away from here,— went on to college, or startin' their own
families. They don't have no time for a farmer boy who ain't,—
who isn't,— married."
Oh, shit, what
was he trying to tell me. My chest was all gripped up. I
took a sip of whiskey, trying to find the right words.
"Y'ain't gonna'
marry, are ya,' Son?" I said as gently as I could.
B.B. looked out
at the dying embers of the sunset, and I could see his eyes glistening,
like they were about to flow. He didn't answer.
"It's okay, I
ain't gonna judge ya' none." I said in as normal a tone as I
could. "I know’d you all yore’ life, B.B., ain't nothing you
could tell me what would make me think less of you.'"
"I didn't ask to
be,— this way," he almost whispered, "I can't help it,
Graham, I just am."
"Told anybody
else? Yore’ mom or Reverend Foster?"
"God, no!"
his voice was stronger. The worst was over. At least he got
it out. He got it off his chest and I didn’t turn away from him,
run into the house screaming he was a pervert, "Can't you just
hear the fire and brimstone sermon on abominations I’d probably get,
and I couldn’t break mom’s heart like that?"
There was a
bitter sweetness to the laugh, like when you try to make a joke to show
a bad cut isn’t all that bad while Doc Andy’s stitching it up.
"You done
anything 'bout it yet?"
"No!" he
said a little too loud, "I mean,— me'n a friend, we kinda
experimented, but it,— we ain’t never, uh,— we never said nothing
about,— it was just,— git’n our rocks off. I never kissed
him or nothing."
"It ain't gonna’
be an easy row to hoe, B.B." I said, trying not to get too
close. I couldn't let him know what a dirty old man I was,
fantasizing on him like I'd been doing for the past few days. I
could only try to be as understanding as I could.
"Are you,—
?" he started, but faltered, "I better go," he said
downing the last of his glass and standing at the same time.
"What time you
want me to supper?" I asked as he bounded down the steps.
"I make pretty good cider. I got some in the cellar. Saving it
fer a party."
He stopped at
the bottom and turned to look up at me. He had a smile and a
tear, all at the same time.
"You'll still
come?"
"I done toll'
you, B.B. I don't never go back on what I say. Never. What
you toll’ me don’t make me no never mind. Ain't nothin' you said
what makes me think any less on ya,' Son. Now, get over
that. If’n ya’ think on it, you sort a’ paid me a great
compliment by think’n I’s someone you could trust enough to share it
with, B.B. I'm downright proud you felt you could tell me. Right
proud."
He turned,
surreptitiously wiping his eye with his sleeve. (Had to look up
the spelling on that, but I knew what the word meant. I'm getting
better at writing as I practice.)
"Thanks, Graham,
you’re a good man. Mom always told me that. I once
complained to her I didn’t have no dad to talk to about men things and
she told me I could always talk to you. Mom’s always
right." he said smiling as he went around the big nose of his
pickup.
"I'm comin' to
yore’ place right from the hangar," I called out, "be there
about half past six."
"Don't forget
the cider!" he hollered as he started up his truck.
"I won’t.
See ya!" I raised my glass to him.
He tap-honked
and pulled around and down the drive. I watched his lights recede
down the long drive until he got to Gove Road and turned right.
His truck was now hidden by the trees and hedge.
I wrote the
above on my PC, downstairs in the library, just before my world turned
topsy-turvy.
"Graham."
I heard a voice as if the person was standing next to me. I
almost jumped out of my Wranglers. There was nobody
there. What the,— ?
"Come to the
hangar, please."
It was
Groth. The voice was his. He wasn't there, but I heard his
voice, like he was right in front of me. I got the willies, real
bad. This was beyond spooky.
"Nothing to
worry about. We need your help again,— now,— please."
I quickly walked
to Jeep and jumped in like a man with his ass on fire. I didn't
bother to turn down the lights in the front rooms. I guess I kind
of drove pretty quick. My butt hit the bottom of the frame a few
times. When I got to the gate, I didn’t see anything out of the
ordinary. The Moon was pale, chasing the sunset, but casting
little light. The light was on over the door to the maintenance
shop, but nothing else. It was near half past nine, so everybody
was home either watching T.V. or turning in early to be ready for
Wednesday. I opened the gate, drove in, not bothering to lock the
gate behind me. I screeched to a stop in front of the light, and
bounded out. The door was locked, and the lights out. I
went in switching on the overheads noting that the Deere was
reassembled meaning Rob and Cory had stayed a little late to finish
up. I like that in a man; one who likes to get the job
done. There was no Groth.
I opened the
doors to the hangar, only the exit lights visible in the darkness.
There was nothing there. I was beginning to wonder if my mind was
playing tricks on me.
"Open the main
doors,— please,— my friend." Groth ask. I realized I wasn’t
hearing the words with my ears. There was no sound just the words
in my head. It was weird hearing Groth’s voice in my head.
I shivered like it was cold inside my skin. I flipped on the
low-level lights. I walked towards the controls by the door in
the little office in the Northeast corner. I wondered if they'd
open. I hadn't fully tested opening the doors yet. I wanted
to lube them first in case they got stuck half-way.
"Graham?"
A voice came from behind me echoing through the hangar. I almost
jumped out of my skin. "Is everything all right?"
It was
B.B. He jogged up to me as I continued to walk towards the
control office.
"What're you
doing here, B.B.?" I asked making it sound as well met and
friendly as I could under the circumstances. I was actually glad
for his company in this spooky situation. I think it sounded like
a greeting.
"I just sat in
front of your place for a while,— thinking,— then went back to tell you
I'd pick you up here tomorrow night because I'll be at the ag-office. I
thought maybe we could have breakfast at mom's and then bring you
back." he managed to spit out as he jogged, then caught up to me.
"You about hit me as you flew out of your road onto Gove Road.
You tore out of their like a bat out a’ hell, so I followed to see if
you needed help. I didn't run the stop sign like you did. I
got here a little later than you. What's going on, Graham?"
I stopped a few
feet from the office and turned to him.
"B.B., you know
I said you could tell me anything, and it wouldn't go no farther?"
"Yeah," he
said, looking down at his boots.
"I gotta’ ask
you to do the same for me. You gotta’ keep what you’re about to
see quiet, and not tell nobody." I said as seriously as I could.
"Whatever it is,
Graham, I swear I won’t never say a word." he said in a
flash. Then, reconsidering, "It ain’t,— drugs, is it?"
"No, no,— far
better than something like that." I said, "We got visitors."
"Visitors?"
"You'll
see," I said, turning back to the office, going in, flipping on
the hydraulic oil compressor, then turning the control to full open.
I knew, now,
Groth’s ship wasn't an Air Force plane. No technology on Earth
could make a man dream, hear a voice in his head, a man's body do what
my body was doing, metamorphosing into something else. I truly
wasn’t myself anymore. The face I saw in the mirror this
morning wasn't mine. How could I kid myself anymore. I was
never even slightly good looking. I was always homely from the
time I was born, and I got more homely as I got older. The face
in the mirror was still me, but I looked almost good. I flattered
myself it was the exercise, the fresh air, the new freedom, but I knew.
They did something to me in that ship, they changed me. I wasn't me
anymore, I was,— I don't know, but I wasn't me on the outside any more,
I was turning into a stranger in the mirror. A stranger I was
beginning to like. "I'll
explain," said Groth. I wheeled to look at him, where the
voice came from, but he wasn't there. B.B. looked at me like I
was weird.
"What is it,
Graham?" he asked. "What are you looking for?"
"I don't
know," I said. "Wait, you'll see."
We walked over
towards the place where the doors moved into the box that kept them
upright, where the seven sections were already starting to converge,
all moving at the same time, like an accordion, squealing a little
where they weren't too well greased. It took ten minutes, maybe
fifteen, before the pumps stopped, the doors encased, the opening maybe
a hundred and fifty feet wide or more. I didn't say a word.
B.B. kept looking at me, staring holes through the side of my face, but
I couldn't look back into his face. I didn't trust myself to be
able to keep him from seeing what I felt inside me about him.
When the doors
clunked into their slots, and the hydraulic pump shut off, we looked
outside, but there was nothing. There was no wind or
lights. The Moon must have gone below the horizon because there
was no shadow at all of the hangar on the forecourt. I felt a
slight pressure in my head as I began remembering things I never knew
before. I know that sounds crazy but a mirid of pictures and
explanations began flooding my mind; electronic diagrams like I’d never
seen before, wiring coding, optic and U.V. cabling diagrams, access
panels, vaporizing tools, metal manipulators, field molds, elemental
separators, synthesizers,— it was all coming into my head much too
fast. I was getting too much,— I was about to overload.
"STOP!" I
shouted at no one in particular while holding the sides of my
head. B.B. almost jumped out of his high top western boots.
"What?" he
asked, not knowing what was going on in my head.
"I just,— I
mean,— they’re feeding me information too fast. I was beginning
to overload, and I didn’t want you to go any further.”
"I’m right
beside you, Graham. I'm not going anywhere you don't take me.
What's wrong? What do you mean their feeding you
information? Who?”
"It’s all right
now,— they’ve stopped.” I said. The stream of information
stopped flooding into my head. "I think it's about to
start." I saw a ripple of the stars almost due Southeast.
"What?"
B.B. asked nervously.
I just pointed
at the ripple a quarter sized circle that moved across the sky slowly
from the Southeast to the North.
"See it?
Just above the Olsen's silo."
"I don't see
anything,— you mean the,— the,— "
"Yeah. See
it, it's lining up. It’s beginning to materialize."
"What is it,
Graham? What do you mean materialize. I just see something
like heat waves shimmering..."
"That’s it,—
it’s a ship.” The ripple stopped moving North.
"A ship?"
"Watch."
The ripple
seemed to expand growing into a baseball, a soccer ball, a big balloon,
closer to the ground, closer. It gradually took form into an
oval, a flattened oval, and then the ripple started to thin. It
become pale at the center until the ship became almost visible.
The rounded front reflected the darkness slowing as it
approached. It was over the rocky part the other side of the
runway, and you could see a little dust puffing out sideways at the
edges of the ripple.
"Graham, I don't
like this. Let's go. Let’s get out of here. Whatever
it is, it ain’t natural. It’s gotta’ be from,— " He put his
hand on my arm, ready to pull me back and bolt for the door.
"It's
okay." I said, covering his right hand with my left hand holding
it to my arm. "I know them. They're friends of mine."
He gripped my
arm tightly, but didn't move as the ship crossed the runway sending
bits of dust and gravel outwards at the edges. It made a
slight sound of a breeze but nothing more. The center part was
now identifiable as a glassy metal configuration of some sort. It
was bulbous in front and the edges began to come into focus. It
no longer mimicked the sky surrounding it and beginning to take on a
crisp border. The silence was eerie. In the movies they
make a humming or whooshing sound. This ship was completely
silent.
"Oh,— my,— God,—
! " B. B. said softly in awe as it got closer. The weeds along
the runway were suddenly flattening into invisibility at the leading
edge of the ship. It was about a hundred feet in front of the
hangar now lining up to enter the huge doors. The ship's nose
reflected no light from inside the hangar. Then suddenly we
watched all of it extricate itself from the gauze of the ripple effect,
squeezing out into visibility, and headed into the hangar in front of
us. There was a mini-storm of dust blowing out from under the
edge. We had to turn away for a second to protect our eyes, but
it stopped almost at once.
The top of the
ship was no more than thirty feet below the top of the doorway, and the
side closest to us was maybe fifteen or twenty feet away. The ship kept
coming in, and in, and in, until the rear end passed under the
doorway. You couldn’t tell the front from back except from
the direction it was traveling. Actually, I don’t think it
mattered. There were no lights or windows, just glimmering
silver-gold of the surface. The struts of the hangar were
reflecting on its skin like a huge spider web across the surface.
The lights from the hanger shown like stars from its highly reflective
skin. I turned to go back and close the doors half dragging B.B.
on my arm. His grip was strong.
"It's real,
ain't it, Graham? Please, tell me its real!" he said,
laughing, eager, almost demanding, "It's real! I know damn
well it’s real. How? Is it yours?" I laughed and broke the
tension of the moment.
"Don’t I
wish? No such luck, Son." I said as I threw the control to
full close, and the doors crept out of their boxes towards each
other. "But it's what I saw that day last week. It crashed
near the old orchard and I fixed it for them."
"Them,— who,—
where,— what do they want, Graham?"
"Don’t worry,
we’ll find out. Don’t be afraid, B.B., they mean us no harm. "
"Hello, Graham."
Groth was
standing no more than ten feet from us as handsome as I remembered, but
somehow not as desirable? I don't know why. He wore the
same outfit as before. It suddenly dawned on me I switched the
attention of my affections and new found sexuality to B.B. Was
this Groth’s plan? I was proud of B.B. coming to my rescue even
if there was no one to rescue. He was conducting himself in a
situation of high strangeness with maturity and considerable
bravery. He stood right beside me and didn't even flinch.
"Groth. You came
back."
"You know why?"
"Yes."
"Who are you
talking to?" B. B. whispered. I looked at him and then at Groth,
then back.
"You don't see
anyone?"
"He can't see
me." said Groth. "I am not to him as I appear to you."
"I don’t see
anything or anybody,— nothing." B. B. said, his voice was strong,
but his hand trembled a little.
"Groth,— that’s
his name,— just told me you can’t see him because he can’t appear to
you yet until he has an idea who he should appear to you as. He
has to look into you mind and pick someone you find comfortable to be
with and then he can appear to you as them. It’s easier on us
they explained to me the last time.”
“My God, where
are they from, Graham?”
“They've come
from another star." I told him, " In the Milky Way,— our
galaxy. They've been here for a while, studying, taking
samples. They need our help."
"What
for?" asked B.B. I got another flood of information in my
head, more than I can begin to write down. I summarized for B. B.
"They stopped to
take samples on another world first." I said, "They
refueled, somehow contaminates got into the fuel system, and they
didn't discovered it after they got here. I helped fix it for
them the day I got fired. That was a test for me. They have a
bigger problem. Their main drive was damaged. They got hit
by some kind of diamond traveling so fast it got through the sub-light
screen system. Another one took out their lead ship. They can't
leave until the drive is fixed."
"They can't fix
their own machine?"
"The maintenance
or facility dock, something like that,— was lost with the,— first ship
when it's drive blew."
"There are more
of them?"
"Twelve at
first. Eleven now."
"Don't they have
their own mechanics?"
"There are no,—
people,— on their ships."
"Robots?"
"Computers,"
I said, "Computers by the thousands each more powerful than all
the computers on Earth combined."
"Why you?"
"Why me?"
I asked Groth, "Why us?"
I got another
flood of information, and my head felt like it was being pumped full of
molten steel. Most of it was technical stuff, the composition of
the optics, the neural networks of the computers, the storage cylinders
for the samples, the DNA separators, the crystalline control mechanisms.
"I,— we,— you
and me,— some people have,— a,— feel for machinery. The hangar was here
and available. Because of helping them that day I can now receive
the,— messages,— or thoughts,— of the computers. I was willing to
help." There was more, but I couldn't tell B.B. yet.
"Why not just
send another repair ship?"
"Take too
long." I said. "The ships have to leave soon. It
would take, a hundred thousand years to get another ship here.
That would be too late. Since I helped them before, they thought
I might help them again."
"Why so
long?" We both asked, almost simultaneously.
"Matter can not
travel faster than the speed of light," Groth answered. "The home
to this ship is fifty thousand light years from here, close to the core
of this galaxy. There is no closer planet with capability of
reaching your system in time. The practical speed limit is less
than light speed as energy expended in acceleration becomes
prohibitive."
"Einstein was
right." I told B. B. "The speed of light is an absolute
barrier."
"Come
inside." said Groth to me. "There is much to learn before
you can be effective." The ship hovered in complete silence in
the exact center of the hangar. A doorway opened and we watched
it flow like liquid metal down to the concrete a third of the way from
the end of the ship.
"What will the
light do?" I said to Groth, not moving. "It won't hurt him,
will it?"
"What
light?" B. B. asked.
"The optimizer
is more painful for organisms that have deteriorated or aged like
yourself. Remember how bad it hurt you the second time?"
Groth said. "However, we reversed the aging procedure in you and you’re
coming along nicely. It will give you little further pain as your
internal adjustments are complete. It will only accelerate the
internal repairs now underway. Your companion's pain will be
minimal because he is so young, but the optimization will be
equivalent. It would be unethical not to optimize him to be in
parallel with you."
He spoke more
softly. "We must have you both at maximum efficiency if we are to
succeed in repairing our drive in time. Neither of you will ever
be sick or weak again." I believed him. I don't know why,
but I did, especially about the pain, and about the need.
"They want us to
go inside, B.B,, to learn what we need to help them fix their main
drive. There's a bright light when you go in and out of the
ship." I said, "It's called an optimizer. It blinds
you for a minute so you must close your eyes against it. It hurts
just a little, but it goes away. The best part is it repairs any
worn parts of your body and keeps you healthy."
"So, it wasn’t
my imagination. You are looking younger. Admit it.
You see it, too, don’t you. It started about the time you got
fired.” I looked at B.B. not caring if he saw the love in my eyes
and slowly nodded my head, yes.
“Let's go!
What’re we waiting for?" B. B. said, pulling me towards the
escalator. "I want to see! Oh, God, what an opportunity,—
what an adventure?"
We went to the
foot of the escalator, and B.B. jumped on it like it was the most
natural thing for him to do almost dragging me with him in the process.
His eyes were aglow with excitement, the joy of exploration, of
something new and unexpected. He whooped when the stairs started
to move whisking us up the full sixty feet or so in seconds, slowing
adroitly just as we got to the doorway. He hesitated only for a
second then went right into the room I remembered with the
lights. The door whooshed closed behind us, and I looked for
Groth, but he wasn't there. The lights raised in intensity, and I
closed my eyes, but not until after putting my arm around B.B.'s waist
and pulling him to me to give him something to steady himself
with. He leaned into me a little closer than was good for him,
but I was strong, and didn't give in to the urge to do more than
support. I told him to close his eyes, and he just murmured a
little "mmm" in agreement.
We didn't say
anything during the process. I don't know if it was for any
reason or not, but I can't honestly say if I felt anything or heard
anything, either. There was just the light. After a half
minute or so the pulsing stopped, and I gradually opened my eyes in
case it was still too bright. B.B.'s arm was still around my
waist, his odor wafting to my nostrils, clean, soft, masculine, and,—
oh, all right,— arousing.
"You all
right?" I asked. My voice cracked a little.
"Yeah. I’m
fine and you?" He gave me a squeeze. I squeezed back.
"Fine.
Groth will take us..."
I pulled away
from him a little turning us both towards the door. We watched it
do its trick of making an opening without leaving a door, just the
opening. I paid a little more attention to it this time. It
melted into itself incredibly rapidly. If you blinked you thought
it just disappeared.
Groth was
there. On the other side of the door.
"Wow!"
said B.B. softly, "That’s the most amazing door!"
"Will you follow
me, please?" Groth said. I was amazed when B.B. started
walking towards the door without my repeating the request. His
arm went from around my waist, and I missed it with a pang.
"Do you see him
now?" I asked as we followed Groth down the corridor to the room
with the dome.
"Yeah,"
B.B. whispered. "Handsome, ain't he? Looks a lot like you,
but not as well built."
"Like me?"
I said. Groth looked nothing at all like me, to me. He has
at least twenty pounds on me, and an inch taller. He looks more
like B.B. in a way than like me.
"His jeans
aren't as,— fit as yours, and he's got more hair on his head, but he's
definitely like your brother or something." B.B. whispered to me.
Groth, my Groth,
the way he appeared to me was wearing shorts. We came to a big
chamber, and all the screens were lit up, except the pictures weren't
of what was outside the ship. Outside the ship was just the
hangar, and we were inside. The screens showed the view as if the
hangar wasn't there at all. I saw my Jeep and B.B.'s white Dodge
Ram behind which was the road out to the gate. We could see is
all on a split screen with a view of Katy from above. A car was
driving down toward town from the interstate with its high beams
on. The next screen showed the view directly West from the center
of the hangar, and I watched as Pete Pulaski's battered old Buick
passed the gate on the way into town. The blue paint on the roof
was gradually wearing down to the white primer. Wait a minute, it
was dark outside, yet the screens showed everything in perfect detail,—
no fuzziness, no lines, no flickering,— and no shadows. Darkness
was no obstacle, and apparently the walls of the hangar weren’t
either. Before I could ask, Groth was explaining to us.
"Our screens
work on a different principle than a camera. The computer gathers
all the information from all spectrums, visible and otherwise, and
synthesizes it into three-dimensional functions, then present the
results on the screens from any perspective. They can see through
almost anything, even lead, because there are always waves which pass
through or around anything, bouncing off other objects, dispersing, but
not enough that they can't be detected and analyzed."
What do you
really look like?" I asked instead. If he looked like me to
B.B., and like Mr. Latham to me, he could look like almost anything or
anybody.
"I am only a
computer-generated confluence of waves. Your memories are very
strong, very,— observable, so I’m projected to look as much as possible
like your memory of someone you admire and deeply respect. The
same for you, Bill, but your memories do not extend far enough back in
time in a completely observant way, so I appear to you as Graham did
when you were still pre-pubescent, but becoming cognizant in a detailed
manner."
"Why do you call
him Bill?" I said without thinking.
"It is your
preferred title, is it not?" he asked of B.B.
"Well,— "
he said looking a little abashed at me. "sort of, but even my mom
won't call me that."
"Illogical.
A sentient creature should be able to decide for itself how it should
be addressed by its correspondents."
"You are a
projection, you said. Does that mean you're just a,— a
hologram?" Bill asked. He was staring at the model of the
ship, hovering over the dome of the Kryst.
"No. The
projection is what you would term nano-wave, directly stimulating your
aural and visual interpretative centers. The image of the ship
over the Kryst is a physical image."
"But you,— you
carried me down the stairs."
"No. We
took over motor control briefly. It was best you thought I
physically helped you rather than,— controlled you."
"Yes,— well,—
where do we go from here?" I asked.
"First, we must
make the changes in the power grid of this place to permit the high
levels we need for the matter conversion work outside the ship."
he said. I heard some slight noises from somewhere nearby, felt
the tiny vibration of the power generator. "The tools and
equipment are being produced and will be available on the floor in a
few minutes."
"I have plenty
of tools" I said.
"Yes, but you
will also need these specialty tools." My head was immediately
being crammed with memories of how the gravity hover platform was
controlled, the exterior power converter was hooked up, the probe
mounted and fired.
"These are easy
to operate. Why do you need us to do it?" Bill was also
getting memories.
"We do not have
mobility units on this ship." said Groth. "They were all
three on the first ship when the drive went critical."
"You mean you
can't operate a simple destabilizer?" asked Bill. He
obviously got a different set of memories than I did. I couldn't
operate one either. I didn't even know what it was supposed to do.
"It is meant to
be operated independently of the interior of the ship." Groth
replied. It therefore needs a mobility unit."
Nice. We
are mobility units.
"You are
men. We need your help."
"I didn't say,—
oh, shit, he read my thoughts. He,— they,— just knew.”
"Yes,"
said Groth. "but we never divulge any of your thoughts of a
personal nature, unless to prevent harm to a sentient, or when ordered
so to do by the judicial service. Our judicial service, not
yours."
"What about the
crew?" Bill asked. "Can't they operate your own machinery?"
"All three were
destroyed when the first ship's drive destabilized into a black hole."
"You had a crew
of only three, for twelve ships?" Bill turned away from the
screen that showed the geology of the region. "I never knew we
had molybdenum deposits in Kansas."
"That is all
that is necessary." said Groth. "We are a small
group. The molybdenum is eleven miles below the surface."
"You only had
three people?" I asked again, trying to absorb what was being
said.
"Not
people," Groth said softly, "machines."
"Robots?"
Bill asked.
"Yes, in a
manner of speaking."
"But where are
your people?"
"There are
none. There are no physical beings on our ships. I will
explain later. We have much to do before the dawn. Come."
Groth moved to a
pedestal that rose from the floor of the chamber, in front of the
Kryst. We followed, dumbly, to the unit, and followed Groth's
instructions to put our hands on a pair of graphite colored posts that
stuck up from the pedestal.
Immediately
everything disappeared, and I was inside the drive, looking at the
damage done by the diamond that tore through the ship. I watched
it go through the entire ship at least a dozen times in instant
replay. It was going so fast apparently nothing had time to heat
and fuse. The matter just disappeared. There remained only
a tiny, absolutely perfect hole about a quarter of an inch in diameter
from the top of the ship to the bottom, through the drive control unit
along one side of it, through thousands of bioneural circuits, several
power lines, and then out through the bottom. I watched the
automatic shutdown of the drive, the self-patching of the metal hull,
bulkheads, walls and floors. Luck protected the anti-grav control
units, just above the drive, or the whole ship would have gone.
Some of the bioneural circuits tried to regenerate, a few did, but the
drive could never operate without pulling and replacing the power
cards, the matter conversion control neural sections, and at least half
of the directional thrust neural control units.
The ship
revealed to me the procedures for repairs. The drive had to come
out of the ship, eight hundred forty-two cards and plug-ins replaced,
and then the drive reinstalled and re-mounted. The ship carried
the equipment to manufacture spares for some of the parts needing
replacing, but other ships would produce the rest. Our ship, as I
thought of it now, would be open and vulnerable for as long as the
drive was outside the hull. The work would have to be done in the
hangar, faster than spit. The group of ships were scheduled to
leave in less than two weeks, and if our ship wasn't ready, it would be
scuttled; along with its cargo, the entire catalogue of chlorophyllic
life on two planets, from the first algae, the grasses, the trees, the
cycads, the legumes, the Sequoias,— everything. The other
planet's biosphere was not as complex as Earth’s; however, it was
vastly different in structure, but just as significant. If our
ship dematerialized, the information would not be lost, but the actual
samples would be destroyed. The samples were critical to the
reconstruction of the biospheres in case something happened.
"Will you assist
us of your own free will?" asked a synthesized voice. It sounded
like a telephone company operator. There was an echo, so it
wasn't in my head. It wasn't Groth, either.
"Of
course," Bill agreed.
“Sure.” I
added. Thus, began the craziest and in some ways the most
wonderful two weeks of our lives.