Trespassers: a science-fiction novel (22 page)

There she was again, letting thoughts of him crawl back into her mind. Each egg she cracked was a stroll down memory lane.

“
How can I help?
”
Jin said, interrupting her daydream before it could get started.

She snapped back to reality, hoping her reverie wasn
’
t too obvious.

Upstairs, as Tobi dried his hair from the shower, he fully expected breakfast to be waiting for him, for no other reason than his nose telling him so. Bacon had that ability to climb stairs and sneak under bathroom doors. He pulled the bathroom door open and found Dexim standing there, about to knock but now not needing to.

“
Does the tracker work?
”
Dexim asked.

Tobi was still frozen from surprise.

“
I mean
good morning .
.
. does the tracker work?
”
Dexim repeated, with a more cordial tone.

“
Good morning .
.
. yes it does,
”
Tobi replied.

Dexim stepped aside and let Tobi exit.

“
What
’
s the range?
”
Dexim asked.

“
Probably about four or five miles, the landing really jarred some of the components, but it should hold up.
”

“
Long enough for us to find her?
”
Dexim asked.
“
Even if that takes a couple days?
”

Tobi took a deep breath.
“
Absolutely,
”
he said with a nod. It sounded more like a soft
maybe
to Dexim

The SUV accelerated onto the interstate, the morning sun still low on the horizon. New Guy was behind the wheel, with Web in the passenger
’
s seat, where he had room to put the finishing touches on the device. Stewart sat in the back, just behind the driver
’
s seat. He had wanted to hear that the device was finished. Instead, he was watching Web still wrestle with it. Stewart turned to see Mindy sleeping against the door opposite him. He recognized that sleep, and it brought a smile to his face.
That
’
s the sleep of a person who spent the whole night reliving her first day
.
She probably didn
’
t get a wink of sleep
.

In Mindy
’
s mind, she was having the most ordinary dream. She was sitting at a table, waiting for ice cream. She could see workers in the distance making it. They had their backs to her, but she could see around them in little glimpses, and she saw them filling a bowl. It was too much work for a simple bowl of ice cream, but Mindy didn
’
t question it. Her job was just to sit and wait, and she was doing that admirably. She was sitting at a picnic table, but she wasn
’
t in a park. She didn
’
t know where she was
—
it felt more like a sidewalk
—
but the
where
didn
’
t matter. Then she saw Stewart on the other side of the counter, and the workers handed him the bowl of ice cream. Suddenly, Web was sitting next to her at the picnic table, and he had a bowl of ice cream, too. She wanted to jam her hand into his bowl and pull out a fistful for herself, but manners wouldn
’
t allow it. She would have to continue waiting. But now she feared that she was waiting in vain. The workers had moved on. Where was
her
damn ice cream!?

Mindy awoke abruptly, with the taste and feel of window on her face. Almost instantly she recognized that she was in a vehicle
—
a parked vehicle. One by one, the details of reality settled in. This was the Limestone SUV. She had hopped into it this morning. She remembered the turn onto the highway, and she remembered leaning against the door and resting her eyes for a second. Had she snored or talked in her sleep? Had she drooled? A glance at the window provided an answer to the last one. She wiped the glass. Then her eyes turned to her surroundings. They were in the heart of a small town. It looked like any Main Street in Middle America, where old buildings mixed with new shops.

Her focus pulled back inside the vehicle. She saw New Guy sitting in the driver
’
s seat, and she could hear Web still fiddling with the heart decoy in the passenger
’
s seat. Stewart was missing.

“
Where are we?
”
she asked.

“
Juniper .
.
. downtown,
”
New Guy reported.

She nodded, not awake enough to make sense of anything, yet.
“
Where
’
s Stewart?
”

“
Inside.
”
New Guy nodded across the street.

Before Mindy could take a look, she was overcome by a powerful yawn, a full-facer that made her whole head rattle. Stewart
’
s guess had been dead-on: she
was
up all night, reliving every bit of yesterday, and she was feeling it this morning. The yawn slowly released its hold on her, allowing her eyes to gaze out the window and land on a sign that read,
POLICE STATION
. The building had a prominent peak and elaborate architecture. That was because it used to be the county courthouse. When a new courthouse was built, this massive building was handed down to the local police department, which had never quite managed to fill it.

Inside the chief
’
s office, with its unusually high ceilings, Chief Dwayne Garner sat at his desk, rubbing his chin. He was middle aged, but seemed young for a chief. He was what you would think of as an assistant chief, minding the store until the
real
chief returned. But no
real
chief was going to return. Garner was it, and he had been since the last chief just up and retired two years ago.

“
What did you have in mind?
”
Garner asked.

Across from him sat Stewart, drenched by light that poured in from an incredibly tall window. Stewart was an old pro at manipulating local law enforcement, and he knew that vaguer was better. The confiscated ship had passed directly over this town yesterday, and if anyone had encountered anything strange, there was a good chance it would have been reported.

“
I just want to know if you
’
ve seen or heard anything out of the ordinary in the past few days,
”
Stewart said.

Garner shook his head as he searched his memory with a groan.
“
No, not that I can think of.
”
He afforded Stewart the respect that always accompanied a federal badge, even if it was merely attached to a Limestone Deposit Survey Group credential.

“
What about yesterday?
”
Stewart prodded.

Garner shrugged, tiring of all the secrecy.
“
What
’
s this about?
”

“
I wish I could tell you more, Chief,
”
Stewart confided.
“
But this is part of an ongoing federal investigation, and I really can
’
t divulge much, except to say that any information you could give us about any unusual activity in the area would be greatly appreciated.
”

“
Well.
”
Garner gave a slow shrug.
“
I really don
’
t know what kind of thing you
’
re looking for
—
since you
’
re not giving me much to go on
—
but the only thing unusual that comes to mind is a pallet of beer bottles that was broken behind Miller
’
s.
”

Stewart cocked his head inquisitively.
“
What
’
s that?
”

“
That
’
s the general store,
”
Garner explained.
“
The owner called so that he could get a police report to go along with the insurance claim. It was strange because there were footprints of beer leading right into the store, right through the back room .
.
. one set of footprints, like somebody smashed all the beers and then just walked into the store.
”

Stewart sat forward in his chair, his interest piqued.

“
If it had been several footprints that ran back up the alley,
”
Garner surmised,
“
I would have thought it was some kids. But I don
’
t know what to think of somebody breaking a bunch of beer bottles and walking into the store.
”

“
Do you suspect the owner?
”
Stewart asked.

Garner laughed.
“
No. You obviously don
’
t know Jerry.
”

“
Well, does he have a security camera in the store that could have gotten a look at the guy?
”
Stewart asked.

Garner laughed again.
“
You
really
don
’
t know Jerry.
”

This sounded like a landing site to Stewart.

“
What do you think?
”
Garner asked.
“
Is that the kind of
unusual
that you
’
re looking for?
”

“
No, I
’
m sure it was just some kids, like you said.
”

The two men stood and shook hands across the desk. Stewart passed the chief a business card, asking him to call if anything should turn up.

“
This doesn
’
t have anything to do with aliens, does it?
”
Garner added with a dry smile, as he looked over the card.

Stewart was thrown by this, but tried to keep a convincing poker face. A strange silence fell between them.

“
Aliens?
”
Stewart inquired.

“
Yeah, are you connected with the same agency that showed up earlier, today .
.
. the alien agency or whatever?
”

“
Who exactly showed up?
”
Stewart asked, trying to veil the urgency in his voice.

“
Uh, some guy named Karl something .
.
. Browning, maybe.
”

“
Bruner?
”

“
Bruner
, yeah.
”

Stewart
’
s mind swirled. This only made sense, though. Bruner was a good investigator and quite tenacious. Bruner was dead set on proving the existence of aliens, and he was right on the trail.
How useful Bruner could be in finding these trespassers. If only he were working for our side
. Stewart chased the idea out of his head. That
’
s a line that couldn
’
t be crossed.

Bruner stood in the alley behind Miller
’
s General Store. The clean-up job had been minimal, to say the least. Some broken bottles had been swept haphazardly into the corner, but the pallet was still in place and still showing signs of an impact. It was clearly an impact from above, and Bruner twisted his neck to look up at the sky.

Failing marriage.
He laughed at himself.
Failed is the word
. They say time heals all wounds, but they must have been mistaken. Bruner had poured five years of his life into the search for aliens, and it had done nothing to dull the sting of losing her. It had done nothing to fade the image of her. Bruner couldn
’
t remember why he and his wife drifted apart. It seemed more of a sudden thing than gradual, but the cause was still a mystery. They had been so happy. They had defied the odds and cultivated a successful marriage
—
not the kind that was just scraping by, but a marriage that was flourishing. Then one day, it came off the rails. With no warning, they were suddenly unable to speak to one another. He accepted that it may have been something he did, but in all his searching
—
and he did plenty of searching
—
he couldn
’
t find anything he had done wrong, at least not anything to warrant this type of disintegration. And it wasn
’
t his drinking: that came later.