Adopted Son Read online

  Father Blythe put down his brown grocery bag and knelt to the child’s level. He looked directly into Franklin’s huge, black eyes. “We’ve already had this discussion Franklin. I know that having HS makes you look different, but inside you are all the same. It is going to be tough for you to fit in, I’m not saying that it won’t be. But you are going to have to make an effort. You can’t just give up on humanity. People, especially kids, can be cruel, and they don’t like things that seem different, things that they can’t understand. But you can’t let that stop you. You have to take the first step. You have to make them accept you. When you leave Holy Trinity Orphanage you are going to have to go out into the big world. And most of those people aren’t going to have HS. You can’t simply not deal with them. Do you understand?”

  “Yes Father. I’ll try.”

  “That’s a good boy. Ok, now lets get these vegetables home so we can think about what to make for dinner.”

  A shadow begins to eclipse the two. Father Blythe looks up. Several men stand above him. He rises to greet them. They look angry, they look wild. “Good afternoon,” the Father says, attempting to infect them with his cheeriness. He smiles awkwardly. One of the group steps forward. He is carrying a baseball bat in his left hand. He wears a dark t-shirt with the words, ‘Real American’ printed across the front. Some strands of wild hair peek out from his green, knit cap.

  “You’re that alien-lover,” the man says with a sneer. Father Blythe remains silent, but stares intently at the crowd, attempting to intimidate them with his position as a religious leader. His collar is clearly visible and he presents it like a shield.

  “We don’t want no alien-lovers on our block,” says the man. His followers move to the right and left, in an attempt to surround the pair. Father Blythe puts his hand on Franklin’s shoulder and subtly pushes the boy behind him.

  “Look son, I don’t know why you are so angry, but we have no quarrel with you. We’ll just go back the way we came. Sorry to be a bother.” He smiles nervously.

  The man with the bat chuckles. “That ain’t good enough, ‘father.’ We got to teach you a lesson. You see, we don’t want no damn aliens on our street.” He raises his bat. Father Blythe puts himself in between the child and the man.

  “Look at you, you want to beat a child? This is a child! God is watching you. He sees all that you do here today.” The man isn’t listening.

  “You think God wants your half-breed alien scum, alien-lover? You think that we should teach that thing and feed it? What’s gonna happen when his Daddy comes looking for him. He’s gonna eat your face that’s what. We ain’t gonna let you protect that thing. None of them things that you got in that house of yours. We’re taking them all out. Starting with you.” The man brings the bat down. Father Blythe blocks the blow with his arm.

  “Run Franklin!” he says to his young charge. Franklin, knowing danger when he sees it, takes off as fast as his spindly legs can carry him. Father Blythe gets in the way, trying to hold the men. The fall upon him like a pack of wolves. Franklin can hear the sounds of cracking bones, of club against flesh, as he runs off. Tears cloud his eyes. His hat falls off as he dashes. He stops and turns to pick it up, but thinks better of it as he sees some of the mob approaching him. He runs for his life, both hands on his head, hiding his baldness.

  Six weeks after Senator Johnston’s video broadcast. The Watts residence, Sierra Vista, AZ

  Nancy Collins sits on plastic covered furniture in the wallpapered living room. Everything is yellow here. The walls, the couch, the rug. Even the chipped ceramic mug that Ms. Watts provided coffee in is yellow. The sound of a radio tuned to an oldies channel filters in from the other room. Nancy looks out the window at the desert. There is no grass outside, just dirt. It is hot in here. There is no air conditioning, just a swamp cooler. Nancy can barely stand it, “How does Ms. Watts do it?” she asks herself. She should be listening to the conversation more closely. She should be taking notes like she is supposed to, but it is too hot. “Let the tape recorder capture the conversation, I’ll transcribe it later,” thinks Nancy as she politely tries not to drink the hot tea that their host has so graciously provided.

  “Now Ms. Watts,” Dr. Mensen says gruffly, “Let us start from the beginning. Tell us what happened to you.”

  “I’m so glad that you came to see me. No one ever comes to see me these days. The people in town all think that I’ve gone crazy, ‘Crazy ‘ol Ms. Watts’ they say when I come to town. I’m so glad that you came. No one’s ever believed me before, not even the police.”

  Dr. Mensen interrupts the elderly lady. “Yes, yes, we’re glad to see you too. Now please get on with your story.”

  “Oh yes, right. My story. Well, let’s see. It all started that one day in 1972, or was it 1973? I remember that it was the same year that...” Dr. Mensen flashed her a dirty look. She got the hint. “I suppose it doesn’t matter after all. The important thing was that it began right down the road here. They hadn’t built the mall back then, so Pebble Road was just a way to get to Tucson, if you wanted to go all the way to Tucson. There wasn’t much to see on the road itself. But there I was driving my old beat up truck. I was a lot younger back then, and active, boy was I active.” She turned to Nancy. “I wasn’t the fat old lady you see here now, no ma’am I wasn’t.” She leaned in towards Nancy. “Enjoy your youth young lady, you’ll miss it someday,” she said in a whisper, patting Nancy’s shoulder. “Well anyway, there I was out on this deserted road when all of a sudden, the engine in my car went dead. Shut off, just like a switch. Well, let me tell you, I was never much one for mechanical stuff. I had no idea what was going on. But there I was, stuck. I got out of the truck and opened the hood.” She chuckled to herself, “as if I would know what to do under the hood. It was almost dusk, and I was thinking that if I didn’t get this thing started soon I’d be out there all night. That road was deserted, no one came out there. This being before they built the mall and all.” She again turned to Nancy, “I mentioned that this place was deserted right?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Nancy said unenthusiastically.

  “Well, so there I am trying to fiddle with this thing when I see this light shining in the sky. I look up, and there’s this giant flying triangle hovering right over me. Damned if I heard it coming. It was silent as the grave.” She waved her hands over her head as if to give an indication of the size of the craft. Cigarette ashes went flying from the butt still in her hand. No wonder she had the place encased in plastic. She wiped the ashes off the cushion and kept talking. “So there I am looking up at the thing saying, ‘Geesh Dorethea, that’s one of them flying saucers. Ain’t nobody going to believe this story.’ Then, all of a sudden, Pow! I wake up on this table. I mean, I went from the road to the table in like a flash.”

  “And you assumed that you were inside of the spaceship.” Dr. Mensen queried.

  “Where else could I have gone to? It was pretty weird inside, I didn’t ever see anything like that anywhere else in Sierra Vista. I mean, I’m just a country girl, and I hadn’t ever been to the big city or nothing, but I can tell you, I ain’t never seen nothing like that place before. The only place that come close was when I was in the hospital that one time, on account of my gall bladder.”

  Heading off a long story about Ms. Watts’ gall bladder operation, Nancy asked, “Could you describe the room please.”

  “Sure, sure.” The old lady took another drag on her cigarette. “I don’t know much, because I couldn’t move you see. That’s what the weird part was. I couldn’t move. So I could only see the ceiling really. The place looked like a hospital or something. It was all shiny. There were lights on the ceiling, and some metal thinga-ma-bobs on the wall. Scary. I tried to get up and leave you know, but I couldn’t move.

  “Why couldn’t you move Ms. Watts, were you tied down?”

  “No, that was the weird part, I just couldn’t move, like I was paralyzed or something. I just couldn’t move. But I was buck naked, I c
ould see that much. And it was cold in there. I was on a metal table. The least those alien boys could do was give me a gown or something, but nope, they just left me there naked as a jaybird on the table.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then I heard the door open, and the little boys came in.”

  “Little boys?”

  “Aliens. Maybe like 5 aliens. They were dressed like doctors.”

  “Could you describe the aliens Ms. Watts?”

  “You know, they just looked like... aliens. They were pretty much the same as that one Senator Johnston found, only not so wrinkly and rotten.” Doreathea giggled to herself at what she considered to be a joke. She coughed once and then continued. “They had those big old heads, spindly little arms. I couldn’t see too much, as I said, on account of me not being able to move.”

  “What did the aliens do to you?”

  “They looked me up and down, all over. It was quite embarrassing you know, me being naked. They put some metal things on me. Like one of them doctor’s stethoscopes or something, but more... technical.” She stopped to drink some of her tea. She drained the cup to the bottom. “Do you folks want some more?” she said, straining to get up out of the chair.

  Dr. Mensen was not a patient man. He was used to talking to scientists. He was used to getting the facts as quickly and succinctly as possible. Talking to people like Ms. Watts was quite frustrating for him. “No, Ms. Watts, but could we please finish this interview. It is very important.” He gently guided Ms. Watts back into her chair.

  “Well, ok then, just trying to be hospitable. You know I don’t get many visitors these days.” She turned to Nancy. “There wasn’t much to say after that, they just did their business down there and then sent me home.”

  “What do you mean, ‘did their business?’” said Nancy, trying to ensure that the information was clear.

  “You know... down there.” She whispered while pointing to her stomach. She seemed a bit uncomfortable talking about it. “That’s why I can’t have no babies. It’s on account of them aliens.”

  “They did something to you and now you can’t have children? What exactly did they do to you?” queried Dr. Mensen.

  “I don’t rightly know, me not being a doctor and all. But I could feel them tinkering around down there for a while. At first I thought that they were just trying to, you know, enjoy themselves, but after they let me go the doctors said I couldn’t have no babies no more.”

  Dr. Mensen looked to Nancy for some clarification. She read from the medical report, “Due to abnormalities in the patient’s reproductive system, patient is sterile...” She scanned the page for more information, “...patient seems to be lacking ovaries. This is most likely due to a birth defect, as the patient’s records do not show any evidence of surgery nor is any scarring present to indicate surgery.”

  “See, it was the little men. That’s what I told them doctors back in the ‘70s, but they didn’t listen. You people are the first ones to listen to me. Everyone though that I was just crazy. ‘Crazy old Dorethea’ they used to call me. No one believed me when I said that the aliens got me. But now they do. Now I’m a bit of a local celebrity. You guys don’t think I’m crazy right? You believe me right?”

  “We believe every word you said Ms. Watts,” replied Mensen. “We believe every word you said.” He turned to Nancy. “Dr. Collins, I think that we have all we need here. Let’s get back to the hotel. I want to write some things up before dinner.” The two stood up to leave.

  “You going to get ‘em doc?”

  Dr. Mensen turned around. “What do you mean Ms. Watts?”

  “Are you going to get ‘em? Them damn aliens I mean. You’re going to get rid of them right? I don’t like seeing them around, on TV and all. Walking around like they’re normal people. They ain’t fooling anybody you know. You’re going to get rid of them right? Find some vaccine to kill them off?”

  “I don’t think that we’re going to be killing anyone Ms. Watts. We’re just trying to find a cure for HS, that’s all.”

  “Sure, sure,” Dorethea said with a wink. “A cure. That’s what Senator Johnston says. We’re going to get a cure. But he’s alright with me. He wants to kill them all off. Put ‘em in a concentration camp and kill ‘em all off. And I’m going be laughing and laughing on account of what them little men did to me. Maybe he’ll let me push one of them buttons.” She laughed. “Bzzzz.”

  The two scientists politely said their goodbyes and left through the rickety screen door. Dorethea was still chuckling to herself as the door swung shut.

  American Labor Federation National Meeting, Chicago IL. Four months after Father Blythe’s murder.

  It is almost impossible to see the crowd from the stage. The spotlights are too intense. It is difficult even to see the teleprompter, but that doesn’t really matter. Ray knows what he is going to say. His steps across the wood parquet floor that makes up the stage are drowned out by the noise from the crowd. They have come here today to see him, to listen to what he has to say. Maybe that’s not the way the party brass wants it to be, that may not even be the way that Ray sees it, but it is the truth. These people are fed up with the way things are, no matter how they are. Whichever administration is incumbent is the one they want out. These people live a hard life, they are looking for a ray of hope, a reason to believe that things are going to get better, a feeling that there is someone looking out for their interests, not the interests of the corporations or the foreigners or the welfare recipients or anyone else who isn’t them. This is what they have come to hear, this is what Ray Johnston has come to tell them.

  Ray steps up to the microphone with an air of confidence. He has received applause before starting a speech before, but this seems extra-jubilant. He puts both hands on the fake wood-grained podium and begins to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen of the A.L.F. Your government has failed you. Yes, I know that is a harsh thing to say, but I must be truthful. And so I repeat myself. Your government has failed you. They have failed to protect your interests, they have failed to protect your children. They have failed to protect your way of life. Protection is the most basic purpose of government. If President Michaels and the rest of his administration can’t perform this fundamental service, then what can they do? Nothing! They have deliberately held the truth from you. They have deliberately kept you in the dark to serious threats to your well-being. Is this the sort of administration that you want to re-elect?” Chants of ‘No!’ started coming from the gallery.

  “People, let me take you back to a time, almost five years ago today. I was just like you, a working guy just trying to serve his country and make a difference in the world. I compiled ream after ream of evidence of the alien threat. I presented this directly to President Dillon and his staff. I detailed to them exactly what was going on. I gave them hard evidence. What did they do about it? Nothing! I originally thought that the administration was just incompetent. That’s why I ran for Senate in the first place. But now we know the truth! We were lied to. We have been lied to since 1947. 1947! When the alien ship crashed in the Nevada desert, was the information released to the American people? Was the data given to scientists and sociologists to help combat the threat? No it was not. It was purposely held from the American people so that the political insiders and their big business cronies could reap millions by tearing that ship apart piece by piece and pretending that American companies were ‘developing’ new technologies.”

  “At first, we may have been able to forgive our administrations. The Cold War was heating up, and there was a lot to be gained by keeping our collective mouth shut. There was no indication of a specific threat back then. But as more and more information came forward, successive administrations still did nothing. They were still dependent on their corporate masters for campaign money. They ignored the sightings, they ignored the hundreds of abductees. They did nothing to protect your welfare, even as they began to suspect that something sinister was going on. But then, when
all the truth was given to President Dillon and the rest of the National ‘Security’ Staff, they continued to sit on the knowledge. They continued to hem and haw while your children were being transformed into monsters at the hands of alien invaders! I had been in the Senate for over three years before I found out about the secrets held in Hangar 18. And how did I learn about it? I was told by a lowly airman who was just trying to do his duty as an American.”

  “But the truth will not be held back any longer! The truth has come out! And still, Dillon’s lackey, Dillon’s vice president, the man who sat in that room with me five years ago and laughed in my face when I warned him about the threat, that man is now running for President! It is absurd. You can’t vote for a man like that. He doesn’t have your best interests in mind! He doesn’t deserve your vote! If anything he deserves to be tried for treason against the American people. That’s why we need a new administration in office. That’s why we need Governor Bill Potter in the White House.”

  “What should the government have been doing for the past few years you ask? Well, let me tell you. I chair the Senate Panel on Handel’s Syndrome, and my scientists have given me quite a list of things that need to be done to stop this terrible plague. We need to fund a genetic testing program that will allow parents to learn if they are HS positive before they conceive. Let’s give the American people a choice! We need to increase funding to the researchers that are trying to develop a vaccine to this virus. But we need more than that. This isn’t like chicken pox. Hell, this isn’t even like the black plague. This virus will wipe us all out, every one if we don’t move quickly. I propose that we increase educational budgets to develop more biologists to work on the problem. I propose that we develop gene banks of people, both human and alien, in order to better study the disease. I propose that we use federal dollars to create a bank of frozen human embryos that can be implanted into mothers who want guaranteed human children. I propose creating networks of doctors to monitor the progress of the virus as well as networks of psychologists to monitor the development of these alien children into potentially disloyal alien adults. I’ve made all of these recommendations to the President, but all we’ve gotten back is red tape and bureaucratic fumbling. “