Note: [PG-15] Disturbing details in the first scene.

Day Fifteen ∞ Friday night

"PULL OVER," Weaver said, staring through the windshield as they drove through town.

Dawson threw him a puzzled glance and looked up ahead to the next intersection where the F-150 was turning right as expected. He accelerated straight through the amber light, continuing on the main avenue. He decelerated along a block of old warehouse storefronts, all closed for the night, and turned into a vacant lot next to an antique shop. Both men scanned the area watchfully as the car rolled to a halt in partial shadow.

Cutting the lights and engine, Dawson looked at Weaver out of the corner of his eye—and waited.

"Get out," Weaver said after a while, his voice flat.

Dawson's head snapped around. "Whoa... What's going on?"

Weaver sighed, still staring straight ahead. "I just signed my own death warrant."

Dawson exhaled a long breath, studied his senior partner for a moment and leaned back. They sat like that for several seconds.

"Okay," he said eventually. "We need to make a plan to get you out of here most ricky-tick."

"No."

"No?"

Weaver was rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"So you delivered the Mary Jane to the subject and... what?"

"I said too much."

"What?" Dawson stared at Weaver in disbelief. "Why did you do that? You don't make mistakes—I know you. You don't breach security protocol without a heck of a – good – reason. Hell, there is no reason to breach protocol! What's so different this time? What did you say?"

"I said enough." Weaver met Dawson's gaze, considering for a moment. "If you didn't know that she's an extraterrestrial—and were just watching them—what would you think of them?"

"Just another assignment." Dawson shrugged. "Young people with hidden agendas living their daily lives. Sleepers. I'd just be waiting for them to slip up. Or for something to blow their cover."

"But what does your gut say?"

"Kid's an average Joe, Red White Blue, and full of sunshine?"

"You've read the files. You've seen the subject's history... No father-figure—mother left father because of another woman, took her children to live here with her mother... No criminal record, no trouble in school. A potential rebellion after the grandmother died, cut short by a nasty accident with another bike. Mother-imposed community service turns into voluntary help to elderly neighbors. His life turns upside down again when he picks up this girl and she turns out to be an extraterrestrial. 

"You've spent one and a half weeks with me watching them, studying them. They're hiding the truth from the mother, but... do these two compare to any of the assets assigned to us before?"

Dawson was beginning to see where his partner was going. "I can't say they do... But that's beside the—"

"I'd stake my life on that they have no – clue – of the hell about to rain down on them, once she's found out." Weaver shook his head. "And all she wants to do is to lead a normal life..."

"Wrong place, wrong time," Dawson commented. "They're valuable assets because of the knowledge and intel they can provide. They can never go back to their lives as they know it."

"Yet, she's no threat to National Security—I don't doubt that."

"You warned him."

"I tried—without giving out too many specifics, yes."

"It's still beside the point." Dawson still couldn't believe his partner had compromised the operation. "We're on a mission. Yeah, we're off the rez doing it. But we don't breach protocol. No evidence, no identity, no trace."

"You don't have to remind me."

"Wait... You were thinking of her, weren't you? How old would she have been now? Twenty?"

Weaver pressed his lips together as he stared straight ahead. Devil's advocate again... But he didn't appreciate this one. Dawson had no business bringing Melanie up. He was just about to say so when Dawson interrupted his train of thought.

"Did you... plan this all along? To warn them?"

"To..." Weaver's eyes crinkled as he refocused on the undertaking. "The plan was to deliver that message. And when the girl remembers, to pick her up... in a civil manner and—if at all possible—find a safe channel for delivery. Which is looking remote as hell, to say the least..."

"What if when she regains her memory, remembers who she was, and who she was turns out to be a threat? And she can't be stopped?"

"A personality shift? Like Jekyll and Hyde?" Weaver chuckled dryly. "No... I'm not getting that from her. What I see of her personality is too naive."

Dawson shook his head slowly. "I don't believe what I'm hearing. You said too much to a civvie. You're talking about our asset like–like you've been compromised. You must've been. That Omega woman—she invaded your mind, didn't she? She didn't just speak to you, she corrupted you! Planted an alien seed inside your head. That makes you a threat. You can't be trusted!"

Weaver's hand halted its slow movement under his jacket.

"I should neutralize you myself," Dawson concluded.

Weaver locked eyes with him, unfazed. "Do it. Or wait until I deliver the girl. That plan hasn't changed."

They eyed each other. They were at a crossroads and it could only go one of two ways. Dawson's fingers slid to his side.

"Make up your mind, Dawson. We've been sitting here long enough," Weaver said, his voice hard. He was ready. "Do it now and take over the operation—or leave. I'm a dead man walking either way. You'd be of more use to this operation on the inside right now than becoming a target in my place."

Dawson shook his head. They both knew he couldn't allow this to go on.

The instant Dawson pulled his M1911, Weaver shot him through the head, shattering the window. Dawson bounced against the door as blood, gray matter and bone splattered the cabin and flew outside before he slumped on the steering wheel.

"Goddammit, Dawson, I told you to fucking leave," Weaver said through gritted teeth and slowly released the trigger. His hand dropped with the pistol onto the seat between them, and he pressed his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes.

I'm finished.

There's no turning back now.

Blanking his mind didn't help. I need a cig. He hit the dashboard lighter and dug into his pocket for the pack of Salem. He couldn't stop the cigarette from trembling as he pressed the glowing coil against its end.

Just one minute. To calm his nerves.

The tremor subsided after smoking for three minutes. Weaver drew one last puff and killed the cigarette against the dashboard before pushing it back into the box.

Then he clenched his jaws and got to work.

He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, rubbed down his M1911, and swapped it for Dawson's, pressing the lifeless fingers around the stock and carefully inserting the index finger through the trigger guard. That was just a delay tactic—he knew it wouldn't fool the police for long. Ten hours tops, after discovery.

Then he wiped the splatter from his face, neck, and hands with the kerchief, and proceeded to empty the secret and glove compartments. He put all items in a plastic bag, along with all the contents of his jacket pockets. Fishing the camera and binoculars out from under the seat, he got out to place everything on top of the car, then cast a watchful eye around the parking alley and toward the street before he went to the driver's side.

The ground next to the car was covered with shards and splatter. He had to watch his step to get to the door. Using the kerchief carefully to avoid smearing the drips of blood, he opened the door and pulled the release lever for the trunk. He glanced at the gaping hole that was the back of Dawson's skull as he pressed the door shut, shaking his head with lips pressed together.

Damn you. You should've fucking listened.

The trunk contained, among other things, a seabag with a change of clothes, all unused. He pulled off his jacket, folding the bloodied side inward. The shirt was soiled too so he took the bag with him into deeper shadows and changed. He would burn those clothes later. 

Then he retrieved the large duffel bag from the trunk. With all items securely packed, he swung the two bags on his shoulders and started walking.

It would not be long before he'd find another car to use.

∞

Mickmi pushed one door shut with a long creak and remained standing with her hands on the aged and stained wood as Danny stepped out of the garage.

"You okay?" He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers.

She met his gaze with a brief smile, nodding once. "Thank you," she said after a while.

He shook his head carefully. "What for?"

"For every thing."

"You know you don't have to thank me."

She turned to him and placed both hands on his chest. "I need to. I had a wonderful time," she said softly. The light that fell across her threw a shadow on most of her face, but Danny knew that look by heart. She'd been in that pensive mood all the way home.

He bent his head to touch hers. "Me too. Thank you."

They stood like that for a while, listening to the night sounds, listening to each other's silence. Then he gave her a light kiss on her lips and stepped back to close the other door.

"You tired?" he asked as he reached for her hand. She had to be, she'd treated him several times today.

He met her gaze and she nodded, smiling in return. They walked hand in hand to the house and when he opened the screen door, the front door opened.

He sighed. So Mother was still up in her dressing gown, with her Bible under her arm, waiting for her grown-up children to return home. She looked from one to the other, glanced at their hands, and, clamping her lips together, she motioned them inside.

"Hi," Danny said.

"Grace," Mickmi said and nodded in greeting.

"Had a good time?" Mother said, gripping the door with both hands.

Danny could see she was making an effort not to react to the obvious closeness he and Mickmi shared.

"Yeah, we did." He pushed off his shoes and used his feet to position them under the shoe rack. Mickmi was taking off hers with slow movements.

Mother looked outside with a slight frown. "Where's your sister?"

"We left her dancing with Phil. She should be home in another hour or so." He looked up at Mother. "Go to bed. You don't need to stay up for us anymore, you know."

"I'm not used to the house being... empty..."

Danny straightened himself and met Mother's gaze, exhaling quietly. He almost felt sorry for her. "You've really got to find another hobby, you know," he said. "It's late, go to bed. I'll wait for her."

"Now that you're home, I can." She closed the door and started for the stairs, then turned. "Do you need anything?"

"No, we're fine. You can go." Now he felt like he was being the parent. "'Night."

Mother nodded. "Good night, dear... Mickmi."

"Good night, Grace."

Danny watched Mother climb the stairs and waited until he heard her bedroom door close before following Mickmi into the living room. He found her standing by the mantelpiece, looking at a framed photo with Gina, himself, and their grandmother, taken outside on the porch long before Grandma became bedridden.

Those were good memories.

"Mickmi..."

Her shoulders heaved with a deep breath before she turned to him, a hint of melancholy on her face.

He cupped her face. "Are you...?" He swallowed in hesitation, the aftereffect of the stranglehold still making itself felt. Was she remembering anything else? There was so much they'd left unsaid today—so much that had happened that they should discuss... But neither of them wanted to go there quite yet.

She shook her head once. "No more have returned. There are only new memories." She smiled wistfully, concerned, her glowing eyes studying him—and they knew. She knew. Everything that was going on in his mind, everything he'd gone through today. Her hands slid up to his neck, warmly wrapping his throat, and he closed his eyes. He rested his forehead against hers as the intense heat enveloped his larynx and Adam's apple for the fourth time—the remaining soreness melting away.

He lifted her head to him and ran his thumb over her mouth. Then he gave her a long, gentle kiss.

He didn't want to let her go.

Neither did she.

Eventually he pulled back and drew a long breath. "It's been a long day, I'm sure you've used a lot of energy nursing my"—he grimaced—"reckless stupidity. You should go to bed. I've got to talk with Gina, bring her up to speed. She's got to be prepared."

He felt Mickmi nodding against him. He stepped back and pressed her hand to his lips before sending her on her way. He stood at the living room door as she climbed the stairs, one foot at the time, then stopped halfway to look down at him.

"Good night, Daniel." Her voice was barely audible.

"Goodnight, Mickmi."

He sighed as he watched her pause again on the landing before she disappeared from view.

∞

Selina sat in deep, expansive meditation as night caught up with the convoy heading further west. She had maintained this mode ever since she returned to the vessel twelve hours ago, allowing her consciousness to become one with the essence of this land she was crossing, of this Earth and its spheres. She sampled its natural energies, reading the life within and without—it was easier now that they had left the heavily populated areas behind. It was an essence she was familiar with, but this one only stirred in disturbed slumber—and it was not in good health.

Gaia.

Selina would commune deeper with Her at another time. Right now, something else caught her attention, an approach of a presence far more advanced than the humans of this Earth.

She lifted her head as she ascended from her meditation and projected her peaceful intent, inviting contact.

—Deymos. Allow entry of one.

—Affirmed, the vessel's intrinsic intelligence responded.

A figure partially materialized in the rear of the vessel, and Selina rose slowly and turned to acknowledge it without changing form, spreading her hands, palms forward in welcome. The being appeared to be wearing a seamless gray suit, shimmering with dual-dimensional presence. A head shorter than Selina, of no particular gender, it floated at her height, tilting its head as it viewed her, and mirrored her gesture in greeting.

—I am Biyoun. My comrades and I witnessed your arrival through the door. We have followed your case with great interest.

Selina was intrigued, and she spread her feet to counter the occasional lurch of the transport. "I am Blanc Aave. I have not met one like you here before. Are you of this Earth?"

—No. We are representatives of the Multiverse Alliance, concerned with the activities of the inhabitants of this planet. They are a potential threat to others, a threat to themselves—and a threat to this planet itself. We are strictly observers at this time. But we see your endeavors, and I am sent to caution you.

"I welcome your counsel."

—You are entering a sector we monitor closely. The human in charge of your vessel is but a strand in a web of hidden agendas. Your vessel may protect you from his weapons, but there is in this region, another, specifically developed to target our modes of transport. Be aware: if you attempt to escape in your vessel, they can down you in an instant.

"What kind of weapon?"

—A longitudinal electromagnetic scalar. We have lost several comrades and vessels to similar weapons since 1947, Earth-time, even as we cross dimensions. Also, be aware, you head for a facility underground where lost vessels are taken for research and repurposing.

"I stand advised. Thank you."

—We shall not interfere in what happens, but whatever the outcome, your story shall not be lost.

"I appreciate you acknowledging my purpose here." Selina allowed herself to desolidify to her light self in front of the being as a token of respect.

—It is an honor to meet one of your kind in this space-time. The being bowed its head.

—The honor is mine. She contracted and widened in response.

It started to fade, its form reducing to shimmers. —You are welcome to join us, on completion of your task, should you so choose.

—Your offer is appreciated. Selina sampled the footprint frequencies that Biyoun left behind and relocated fifty feet above the convoy. It was as she thought: Biyoun was no longer in this time-space. This being utilized the same principles of quantum-wave riding as she did, except Biyoun's was for inter-dimensional travel. And no one in the helicopter gunships was aware of what had just transpired.

She cast her attention wide. The convoy had been traveling through endless flat, almost arid land for many miles now, sparsely illuminated by the occasional town they drove through without stopping. Further ahead the darkness was denser, only the vehicles on the road provided light. She knew there could only be a few hours left before arriving at the destination Biyoun spoke of.

Selina returned to the vessel and sat down in her human form. She needed to review her river of options based on what she had learned. The possibility of upcoming rapids could not be ignored.

That aside, there was one thing she had not taken into account. All of her focus so far had been on her assignment of ensuring the future wellbeing of The Two. She had not considered what she would do after the completion of this task. She had not considered her own self since she had never been the subject of her priority.

She realized now she could not expect to remain in this land solely for her own sake. The authorities had made it abundantly clear that she was not welcome here. Now she had received an unexpected invitation from like-minded beings. It was something worth her consideration.

But that would all depend on The One.

∞

Danny's eyes snapped open at the sound of an engine approaching outside.

Sounds like a Maverick. He was about to go to the window when a familiar laugh made him sink back into the sofa again. Gina was home.

He leaned forward on his knees, massaging his scalp. How much should he tell her? He was still of two minds. But there was one thing he definitely wasn't going to include. No way was he going to tell her that he'd almost been choked to death.

As he shook his head in his hands, he caught sight of something sticking up in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and a puff of air escaped him when he saw what it was.

That man had planted weed on him! Crap! How stupid could I be? Danny threw the pouch on the floor, cursing himself.

The next moment the sound of a car door closing interrupted him and two sets of steps climbed the porch and paused, then one set left while the front door opened. Danny snatched up the plastic bag and stuffed it in his back pocket.

He heard the car driving away as Gina shut the door. "Danny?" came her subdued voice.

"In here," he responded and closed his eyes. He dreaded the conversation that lay ahead. It felt like saying what he needed to say was equivalent to uttering some inadvertent curse that would make everything bad come true.

Gina sat beside him and put her camera bag on the floor. "What's up?"

He swallowed. His throat didn't hurt anymore, it just felt a little thick. "It's going to happen soon. She's going to remember. If—"

"Well, that would be—"

"If she doesn't do it soon, I don't think she'll ever remember."

"Why would you say that?"

He heaved a sigh.

"What's going on, Dan?"

"Have you heard today's news? The robbery downtown?" He threw Gina a glance.

"Yes, but what has that got to—"

Danny turned his head to meet Gina's gaze. "We were right there, smack dab in the middle of it."

She stared at him. "You're not kidding."

"And it turns out Mickmi might have a sister."

"Well, that's— But you're not sure?"

"There was a girl there who recognized her, called her by name. But Mickmi didn't recognize her."

"So it might be a case of mistaken identity then?"

"Not a chance. She had the same thing around her neck."

"Oh! So it's three of them that came here... And Mickmi might have family—that is good news."

"I don't know about that... Turns out the girl is one of the robbers, helping them to get away without leaving evidence or witnesses. And Mickmi doesn't want to know of her. So if meeting her compatriot doesn't make her remember..." He shook his head. "I get the feeling she doesn't ever want to remember who she was."

"Oh..."

Danny waited for that to sink in.

"That does complicate things... But Mickmi might come around, right? Just give her time."

Time. He wished it were that simple. He turned to face his sister, sliding his knee up on the sofa.

"Sis." He lowered his voice. "I've got to tell you some things, and you're not going to like it. But I need you to be prepared."

"Oookay..." She took a deep breath. "This sounds ominous."

"Mickmi has been followed by some government people, or some secret agents—they've been watching her for days now. They know who she is and they're just waiting for her to remember so they can pick her up and take her away to—God knows where... And I'm not gonna let her out of my sight! Not if I can help it."

Gina pulled her hand away from her mouth. "Secret agents? How do you know?"

"Remember I told you I felt like we were being watched? Well, I've seen them. So I want you to know, that if we're missing for more than a day—if I don't call, it's because I'm in whatever Godforsaken place they've taken her. But that's not all." He paused to take a breath. He saw how Gina's mind was working in high gear behind that worried frown.

"Listen, Sis. I want you to take this seriously. They might come here... to ask you questions about Mickmi, about me, or... something. Tell them the truth. Tell them that Mickmi and I are witnesses—that we can I.D. four of the persons involved in that bank heist. But don't trust them. If you as much as see anybody you don't know come here, call 9-1-1 immediately—okay? Don't wait to find out who they are." He grabbed her hand.

"You... you're scaring me, Dan... What are you saying?"

He inhaled deeply, steeling himself. "I'm saying that Mom was right. She's never going to forgive me for bringing Mickmi into our lives. I'd much prefer if you'd just get Mom out of here and the two of you go back to stay with Aunt Gloria right now, but I doubt you can convince Mom to go. Because this is not an if  it's going to happen—it's just a matter of when. So if you see any sign, make that call. Don't hesitate. And take Mom straight with you to the police station if you can. Stay there. Tell the police everything. Don't give those people a chance to take you anywhere. Do you understand?"

"You're serious." Gina studied her brother and heaved a long breath. "Okay... I understand."

— ∞ —

©2017 by kemorgan65