Chapter Four

It was well past midnight when they arrived at Vic’s house. It was small and secluded, surrounded by oak trees. The faded blue paint was chipping badly and the windows needed to be updated but it was a cute little house, she thought. It had a lot of the London “charm.”
Vic made his way up the stone steps to the porch, Carter not far behind. Neither of them had the energy to cook so Carter said she’d wait until morning to eat. She could have sworn that her stomach punched her gut for being so stupid. That thing had a mind of its own. He pulled some blankets down from the hall closet upstairs and dropped them on the pullout. “Sorry I don’t have a proper bed for ya’.”
“Naw…is…fin,” she managed to get out in a yawn. Vic found her an oversized t-shirt and she accepted it gratefully. The pullout was surprisingly comfortable, but in her sleep-deprived state she figured she’d be just as comfortable if it were a concrete slab. Her eyes drooped shut and she passed out before Vic could even get up the stairs.
 
“Go! Run!”
“But I don’t want to leave you,” tears threatened to spill down her face but she held them back.
“I’ll see you again soon, but you have to go now. You have to run or we won’t get out of here.”
Sirens were blaring all around them, but she couldn’t hear them for the roaring in her ears. “But what happens if one of us gets caught and--”
He cut her off, “That won’t happen. We’re too smart to let that happen.” He smiled. “We were trained by the best.”
“But--”
He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest. “I’ll find you, okay? No matter what happens.”
Footsteps sounded down the hallway and echoed off the walls. They were close, too close. She knew that they had to go now, they were wasting time that they didn’t have. “I will find you, I promise,” he said softly. She hated the way he said it, like he was saying goodbye.
They could hear shouting now, their time was up. He turned and ran and she watched him go, but only for a second before she had to run in the opposite direction.
 
Her eyes flew open and she bolted up, panting hard. She tried to cling to the dream but the more she tried the more it slipped away like trying to catch the rain. The last tendrils of it faded away until she couldn’t even remember his face or the exact sound of his voice. It had been a dream. But it had felt so real, almost like a--memory.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Had she been dreaming or did she just remember? But, no. The more she thought about it the more it seemed like just that, a dream. There was no way that it was real. She scowled and flung the covers off, suddenly too hot.
In the kitchen Vic was already cooking breakfast; fried eggs over-easy, toast, bacon, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Her mouth watered.
“Well, good mornin’, sleepy-head,” Vic said brightly. He expertly flipped the eggs without a spatula in one hand and buttered a piece of toast with the other. He was already dressed in his tan, freshly-starched, police uniform and he had a towel thrown over his shoulder. While piling food up on a plate he asked, “So, did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, the couch was real comfortable.” She hoped that her voice didn’t betray her emotions.
He turned around to give her plate. “Well then I guess I won’t have to invest in a mattress,” he teased.
She pushed the food around on her plate, suddenly not very hungry. “Hey, Vic?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I remembered something. In a dream I had last night,” she said cautiously.
“Oh?” There was something about the way he said it, almost like he was afraid of what she might say. He turned around to face her and gripped the edge of the counter. “And what was that?”
“I was--I don’t know where I was. There were sirens everywhere and I knew that I had to run from something, but I don’t know what. Someone was chasing me.” She left out the boy, not really wanting to go into detail about their conversation.
He chuckled, a hint of barely imperceptible nervousness hidden beneath it. “Sounds like a dream to me.” He said, almost too dismissively.
Carter would have noticed if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Yeah, I thought the same thing. I just wanted to be sure.”
Vic wanted to change the subject so he said, “Eat your food before it gets cold.”
She had no problems following that command. She wolfed down her food and even went back for thirds. Bacon, as it turns out, is delicious.
Vic had washed her clothes for earlier that morning, and he showed her upstairs to the bathroom so she could change and shower. He even had a spare toothbrush or her to use. God, a hot shower felt so good. She scrubbed every inch of her body until her skin was raw, and her fingers pruned before she got out. She dried off quickly and brushed her teeth for a good five minutes before deciding they were clean enough. Her clothes were neatly folded on the toilet seat. It wasn’t until just now that she realized how out of place they were; a white jumpsuit and black combat boots. Who wears that kind of stuff? She slipped them on and headed downstairs.
Now that she wasn’t tired out of her mind she had a chance to look around. The only two rooms downstairs were the kitchen and the living room. The stairs were directly in front of the door with the living room to the left and the kitchen just beyond that. The only thing separating them was the island she’d eaten at. The couch faced the left wall, and a low coffee table sat between it and the small television set.
“I don’t know if the TV still works,” Vic told her. “I prefer books to television.” He gestured to a large bookshelf pushed up against the side of the stairs, behind the couch.  Books on every subject were shoved haphazardly on the shelves. Some were stacked on top of each other, fighting for space. He ran his hand across the spines and a soft look came over his face. But just as soon as it came it left leaving only a steely hardness in its place like Vic were forcing it away. He sighed and turned away from the books.
Carter noticed his unease. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothin’, I just--Sarah loved to read books.” He didn’t try to hide the grief on his face. The way he said her name was so raw and emotional that it broke Carter’s heart.
“I--I’m sorry. Is she--?”
“Dead? Yes. They were killed, her an’ my wife, Shay. She was about eight when she passed, but she didn’t like to read baby books. All these were her books. She’d read a new one every day an’ I’d ask her--” he swallowed, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’d ask her why she read so many books. And she’d always say the same thing. ‘Cos’ I wanna be just like you, Dad.’” He took a shaky breath and wiped away a tear that had streaked down his face.

Baxter slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room in confusion. What the? Why was he on the floor? He pushed his way up and stared at confusion at the fire extinguisher, blood crusted around the bottom. That wasn’t where that was supposed to go. And why were the ropes all on the floor? His mind was still foggy and the pieces weren’t fitting together. He scratched his head, and winced. Ouch! What the heck? And then it all made sense.
He clenched his fists tightly at his sides and let out a strangled howl. How could he let this happen? That little s**t knocked him upside the head! He let his breath out in angered puffs. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. He stomped up the stairs and banged the door to the basement shut so hard it rattled.
“Why, Baxter, how pleasant it is to see you.”
Baxter startled, a little more than upset that someone was in his house and he didn’t know about it.
“Can’t say the same,” he told her.
“Oh, come now. Have a seat an’ let’s chat. I think you’ll be very interested in what I have to say.”
He narrowed his eyes and took a seat across from her. “An’ what might that be?”
“I am sure you are aware of the U.F.O?”
“Yeah, an’ what about it?”
The woman cleared her throat. “I require the alien children.”
“Children?” he asked. “As in plural?”
“I’m not an ignoramus, Baxter, I know about the boy. Why else would I be here?” She was obviously insulted that he thought of her as that dense. “It’s only a matter of time before their parents come looking for ‘em and when they do what do you think they will offer for their safe return?” She couldn’t hide the greed in her beady little eyes.
Baxter was finally catching on but he didn’t quite get it yet. “We could be rich,” he said with glee.
“More than that! Think of the technology they must possess to be able to have traveled as far as they did and not die? Riches would come in time, but they could offer us somethin’ much more valuable than money could buy.” She saw the blank expression on his face and almost slapped him. “Jesus, Baxter do I have to spell it out for you? Immortality!” She smiled and set back, letting her words sink in.
The largeness of what she was saying finally hit him and he was breathless. “What do I have to do?”
“We’ll need the children, obviously.”
Baxter revelled at the thought of getting bay back. He imagined Ashton, strapped to a table, unable to move. In his mind he drew his knife from his pocket and"
“Baxter, pay attention,” she scolded him.
He huffed at being interrupted. “Damn it, woman. I was thinking.”
“Yes, I could see that. As I was sayin’, don’t worry about the boy, I’ve got him taken care of since you are obviously incapable. But don’t worry, I’ll let you have him for a little while. I need you to bring me the girl.”
Baxter rubbed his hands together and let a grin crack across his wrinkled face. “Miss Carol, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
 
Ashton kept to the shadows, not wanting to be seen. He didn’t need a repeat of the whole Baxter incident. There were a lot of trees on his way to the police station that helped to keep him hidden. He was hoping to get some information, maybe figure out who had taken her. The police were his best bet. Plus, he could tell them about that psychopath, Baxter. He smiled, thinking about seeing Baxter in handcuffs.
The police station was small but air conditioned, and he welcomed the relief from the heat. The woman at the counter hung up the phone and smiled at him brightly.
“Um, who can I talk to about--?”
“You’re here for the girl, ain't you?”
“Yeah, I am actually. Do you know where I can find her?”
“You’ll wanna talk to Vic about her. His office is right down the hall, third door on the right.”
 “Thank you so much!” he said with a wide smile on his face. This was going better than he thought. He stared down the hall and took a deep breath when he got to the door. This was it, time to figure out where she is.  
 
Carter sat outside the small ice-cream shop on Main Street. The shop had closed several years ago when the owners died but there was a table and chairs, and they were shaded under the red and white awning. There was nothing to do at the police station so Vic had allowed her to explore the town. He’d given her some cash but there wasn’t really anywhere to shop, and even if there was she felt bad about spending his money.
So she bathed in the summer sun and read one of Sarah’s books, The Giver by Lois Lowry. It was good so far but she wasn’t really paying much attention. She kept getting lost in her own thoughts. She set the book down and sighed. Five chapters in and she couldn’t even remember the main character’s name.
She closed her eyes and twisted the zip tie around her wrist, wondering what it was for. Her curiosity had been growing as she had more and more unanswered questions about herself. The answers were here, somewhere.
“What’s up, Babe?”
Carter jumped as Neon slid into the chair opposite her. “I’m not your ‘Babe’, Neon. Call me that again and I’ll break your arm,” she threatened.
He held his hands up in surrender. “You got it, Babe,”
Carter’s arm shot out and grabbed his wrist. She twisted I around at an odd angle and he gasped.
“Uncle…uncle!” he breathed.
She dropped his hand. “I warned you,” Carter said, laughing.
“Do you always go around hurting people?”
“I don’t know, but it’s fun.”
“Sadist,” he teased.
She flipped him off and they both busted out laughing.
“Hey, you wanna do something fun?” he asked, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Sure, what did you have in mind?”
He gave her a mischievous grin. “You’ll see”
 
Vic sat in his small office at the police station doing paperwork when a knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” he said without looking up from his work.
“Are you Vic?” someone asked.
Vic looked up and caught his breath. “Um, yeah,” he said softly.
            “I was told to come to you about Carter. Do you know where she is?” the way he said it, it was like he was afraid of the answer.
            Vic waited to answer. Finally, he said “Carter? Do you mean that girl that was here a few days ago?”
            He looked confused. “Yeah, I guess, but what do you mean was?”
            “I’m sorry to tell you this, but she left,” he said apologetically.
            His hopeful look vanished, replaced by astonishment. “She left? What do you mean she left? Do you know where she went?”
            Vic shook his head. “I wish I did. Disappeared in the middle of the night. Why, was she your friend or somethin’?”
            “Yeah, something like that.” He shook his head. “So she just disappeared?” He looked like he just couldn’t believe something like that would have happened.
            “I’m sorry, kid. Wish I could help you. She probably just walked to the next town. If you want I can give you a ride over.”
            “No. No, I’ll be fine. Thanks anyway I guess.” And then he turned and left, just like that.
            Vic let out his breath. That was a close one. 

Author's Note

Thoughs?