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Sallie Thurstin stood at the corner of Main and Green Street, off to the side as the lunch-hour crowd rushed back to their cubicles. It wasn’t her choice to be there, waiting a half hour for the welfare office to reopen, but it was the only time she could catch the #14 Loop bus while Justin slept. She hated the stares of strangers when her three-month old cried. Judging her. Thinking what a crappy worthless mother she was.
Sallie was out of options. Cody—that loser—was gone. This time for good. But the fridge was empty, rent was past due, and she had only fourteen dollars in her pocket. That deadbeat couldn’t hold a job anyway. And after what he did to her mom...
Sallie bit her lip, fighting back tears. She could never go back.
Almost one o’clock, and Justin was just stirring. She rocked the carrier, her right hand sticky from the duct tape holding the handle together. Despite no breeze to mention, the clouds moved past the sun and Sallie inched closer to the shade of the brick building. It held heat, like the sidewalk, but the sunlight would wake her little baby sooner. And he was hell without a good nap. Plus, she’d have to find a place to nurse him that much sooner.
“Damn it!” Sallie muttered.
Some jerk in a tie stared at her as he walked by. Looking down at her.
Sallie met his gaze, defiantly. “What’re you lookin at?”
He snorted and kept going.
Flip-flops and a stained blouse, compared to his silk tie and black leather shoes. She needed money. Not for her, but for Justin. She wasn’t tall but a natural blonde, and her figure had mostly come back after her pregnancy. But the thought of being a prostitute made her sick. Plus, she was nursing. What kind of creeps would that draw?
Some fat lady, talking to somebody over her shoulder, was waddling over toward the door. Figures. It had to be going on ten past one.
Swallow your pride, Sallie told herself, looking around to make sure nobody she knew would see her go in.
Nobody she knew, but there was some kid across the street, sitting on a metal suitcase, watching her. She looked closer. Kids don’t have mustaches or wear sport jackets.
He smiled at her.
Click. The welfare office door was unlocked. A couple women Sallie had been ignoring threw down their smokes and hurried in ahead of her. Sallie didn’t care. That short guy was signaling for her to cross the street.
He’s probably a creep, Sallie thought. Justin would wake up in half an hour, and her breasts were already getting tight with milk. And she didn’t have any nursing pads. No money. And once Justin started crying...
She looked down at her chest, then back across the street in a semi-seductive stance. “We’ll see what he’s after,” Sallie said to herself. The short guy squinted and shook his head no, then picked up his suitcase and crossed the street. It was kind of funny watching him lug the suitcase. He looked like a ten year old, but too muscular. Sallie’d never seen a midget before, but this guy had to be one. Plus, his hair was thinning on top.
He hefted the case to get it above the curb before stepping up. “You have an appointment there?” His voice sounded a little deep for his size.
Sallie casually put herself between the midget and her son. “What’s it to you?”
He shrugged and smiled at Justin. “You look like you could use a good lunch.”
While it was true—she’d eaten the last heel of bread and last spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast—Sallie had mixed feelings about the guy offering her lunch. He acted genuinely friendly, but it was like he wanted something from her, too. “I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”
“That’s quite true,” he said, extending his hand. A cement truck stopped at the light, rumbling and giving off diesel fumes. “Come on, this exhaust isn’t good for your baby.” He put his hand down and picked up his shiny suitcase. “Benny’s Diner is just round the corner.”
He took a few steps and when Sallie didn’t follow he turned back to her. “My treat. They won’t be busy now that the lunch rush is over.” He nodded toward the door to the welfare office. “They’re open till five.”
When Sallie didn’t respond, he added, “They serve a mean double-bacon cheeseburger with hot-fries.”
Sallie looked down at the man. “It’s just about time to for me to nurse my son.”
“Benny’s has high booths and you’ve got a blanket to throw over your shoulder, right?”
The thought of a juicy burger broke Sallie’s resolve. What could it hurt? She had a good foot and probably forty pounds on him. “I don’t even know your name.”
He stepped back and once again offered his hand. “I’m Travis. Travis Collington.”
Sallie replied with a weak handshake. “I’m Sallie.”
The cement truck rumbled forward at the light change, spewing out a black cloud of smoke. Travis Collington turned the direction of Benny’s Diner once again. “Come on.”
Sallie looked to see if Justin was awake. Not yet, but any moment. Then she hurried to catch up. “What’s in the suitcase?”
“Oh, something pretty interesting, I think. But how about lunch first?”
With Justin quietly nursing under the blanket spread over her shoulder, Sallie returned her attention to what remained of her vanilla shake. She’d have preferred chocolate, but she also preferred it when Justin slept. She’d skipped the spicy fries and onions on the double-bacon cheeseburger as well, knowing they’d get in her milk too. Fortunately she managed to wolf it down just before Justin needed to be changed.
Mr. Collington talked about the weather, and his travels, mostly through Florida, the Caribbean and some to Europe. Sallie thought he talked just to avoid silence. He seemed nice enough, and wanted her to call him Travis, but it didn’t seem right. She guessed he was in his 40s, probably went to college and was rich, by how he dressed and how he acted. Sallie had worked as a country club hostess, and she could tell pretenders from the real thing. What did he want with her? She was barely eighteen, an unwed dropout with a baby.
Yes, he wanted something from her, but not sexual. He just didn’t look at her that way. Which kind of bothered her. He was no catch, being a midget and all.
“So, what’s in the suitcase?” Sallie asked, peering over the table to where it was on the seat next to Mr. Collington.
“A way out of your situation.”
That wasn’t an answer she expected. “Just what do you know about my situation?”
He smiled patiently. “Oh, not much, but I don’t have to.”
Sallie kept her voice down and tried to remain calm or Justin would start crying. “What does that mean?”
“You’ve got a child who you need help taking care of.” He held up his hands to calm Sallie before she went off. “Please, hear me out. You asked.”
He pointed to her hand. “No ring. No support from the father. You’re washed and clean as is your baby. But your dress and situation. Taking the bus to the welfare office.”
“How long have you been watching me—us?”
Mr. Collingtons blushed, from cheeks to ears, for a few seconds. “Oh, a few days.” He held up his hands again. “I had to check you out first, to be sure.”
“To be sure of what?” Sallie detached Justin from her nipple, and fixed her bra and blouse, keeping an eye on Collington. Justin fussed but didn’t start bawling. “What do you want?”
“Well, it’s not necessarily what I want. More, it’s what I can give, or better said, trade with you.”
Mr. Collington drove a black Jeep Cherokee with tinted windows. It still had the new car smell to it. Sallie thought he looked kind of silly, like a kid driving a tank, sitting on his cushion and using built-in pedal extensions so he could reach the gas and brakes. Sallie didn’t laugh, or give him a hard time, especially since he swung by Wal-Mart so she could pick up diapers and a few groceries. In the end, Justin’s needs trumped Sallie’s maternal caution about climbing into a stranger’s car, especially with Justin.
Mr. Collington didn’t go in, although he offered to watch Justin in the car. Sallie didn’t trust him that much. Plus, Justin needed to be changed again. She picked up a decent diaper bag, nursing pads and a new outfit for Justin with the hundred dollar bill Mr. Collington had pulled from his gold money clip.
Mr. Collington even went down to the manager and paid the rent when he saw the three day eviction notice taped to Sallie’s apartment door. He took the metal case wherever he went, and Sallie also saw a holster under his sport jacket. She’d been around guns before, and guessed it was some sort of .32 automatic. Probably the most his hand and size could handle.
Sallie changed and set Justin in his crib at the foot of the bed while Mr. Collington gazed out the single window of her rundown efficiency apartment. His metal suitcase on the floor next to him.
It was either sit on the bed, or the two folding chairs at the card table. Sallie offered the latter, after moving a basket full of dirty clothes aside. She should’ve felt weird, or more worried, about having a stranger with a gun in her apartment.
Mr. Collington looked all business, so Sallie asked, “Okay, Mr. Collington. I mean, thanks again for the diapers and rent and stuff, but I don’t see it. What is it you want with me?”
“Of course, Sallie. There is no way you could see it, but I want you to listen carefully.” He moved the phone book and junk to the floor before gently setting his suitcase on the table and unlocking it. “You can look, but do NOT touch.”
Sally was beginning to suspect that Mr. Collington wanted nothing more than for her to run drugs, or something illegal. No way would she do that. Not with Justin.
Inside the suitcase was a smaller box, metal too, but not shiny, set in the middle of foam padding. It was about the size of a big dictionary, with another lock. This one clicked open when Mr. Collington pressed his thumb against it.
Sallie blinked to make sure of what she was seeing. The box contained something like lumpy Jell-O, pink with lime-green veins running through it. And it glowed too, just enough to be noticed.
“What is that?” Caught between surprise and curiosity, Sallie inched closer. “Is it alive?”
Mr. Collington nodded.
It was like a scene out of an old black and white sci-fi movie, the late-nighter, but this was right there, live and in glowing color. “You’re kidding, right?”
Mr. Collington’s right eyebrow lifted. “Kidding about what?”
Sallie took a half-step back. “It being alive.”
“No, Miss Thurstin, I’m not.”
“Is it an outer-space brain?”
Mr. Collington shook his head and smiled. “No, but I suspect you’re not the only one to have asked that question.”
“Well, you brought it here to show me.” Then, all of those horror movies and Stephen King books rushed to the forefront of Sallie’s thoughts, whipping up fear in their wake. “You brought it here to take over my body!” Then she shouted, “Or Justin’s. NO!” She raced for the sink and the butcher knife.
Travis Collington deftly closed the box and suitcase, stood his ground, but didn’t go for his pistol. Candor and confidence emanated from his voice. “Sallie, relax. Get a hold of yourself. Sit on the bed, next to your son if you want.”
Sallie shot a glance at Justin. The commotion had roused him, but not completely. Before she realized it, out of habit, she’d stopped, trying not to wake him.
“Keep the knife too, if it makes you feel better.” Mr. Collington turned one of the folding chairs to face Sallie and sat down, still watching her like a hawk, ready to act if necessary.
She stiffly sat back onto her bed.
“I know this is weird,” said Mr. Collington. “Really, it was for me too. But listen carefully to what I have to say. And think carefully before you agree to my offer, or decide to decline.”
“So, what you’re saying,” said Sallie, staring at the glowing mass in the once again open box, “basically is that that’s an extraterrestrial energy collector.”
“Bio-energy matrix repository,” Mr. Collington corrected her.
Sallie tried not to roll her eyes. She’d become more and more at ease with Mr. Collington as he’d explained the glowing outer-space glob. “Bio-energy matrix collector. And it’s like a living battery that feeds some alien, that you won’t tell me more about,” she said, pointing at the suitcase. “And that there’s more than just this bio-energy matrix collector, and if I stick my hand in it, I get paid?”
“And?”
Sallie knew where Mr. Collington was leading, but she strayed off anyway because suddenly he seemed to be getting impatient. “And this has nothing to do with Area 51, and the outer-space creature that needs the collected bio-energy has no interest in controlling mankind or taking over the world.”
“Being, not creature,” Mr. Collington said, glancing toward Justin’s crib. “And?”
“And,” said Sallie, looking over her shoulder, toward her son as well. Partly because he was beginning to wake up—probably hungry, and also because she was thinking about what Mr. Collington offered: A better life for her and her son. “And what I’ll give up in trade.”
“Do you have a bank account?”
“Yeah, but there’s no money in it. Plus, there’s someone else’s name on it.” Her jaw clenched at the thought of Cody—Justin’s run-off, deadbeat dad.
Travis Collington rubbed his chin and nodded. “It’ll be easy enough to set up another account and wire the money. I could recommend a bank—”
Sallie cut Collington off, not wanting him to have any more control of the situation than necessary. Plus, she wanted him to know she wasn’t dumb. “Thanks, I know a good bank. One that’s nationwide, should I decide to move.
“Actually,” she added, remembering a fact from Mr. Weldy’s sophomore economics class, “I’ll want two accounts. The government only insures each bank for so much.”
After visiting two banks and watching Mr. Collington wire-transfer $100,000 to two separate accounts—the bank managers set up the accounts, handled the transfer—Sallie and Mr. Collington had lunch at Benny’s Diner. Justin was fussy but Sallie insisted on going back to the banks and made sure the money had really been wired into her two accounts.
To Sallie $200,000 was an unimaginable amount, and with the metal box and its glowing contents sitting in front of her, she was finding it hard to stall any longer.
“So, all I have to do then, is to stick my hand into the bio-matrix collector.”
“Bio-energy matrix repository,” said Mr. Collington, sitting on one of the folding chairs next to the card table. He was dressed fancier than before, in a pin-stripe suit, like he was ready to travel. “We’ve already discussed the results, in detail.
“And it doesn’t matter which hand. And it won’t hurt. And you’ll feel tired afterwards.” He looked over at Justin sleeping. “And since you said you wanted me out of your apartment and your life once you’ve completed your part of the bargain, I suggest you get to it before your son wakes up.”
“What if I say ‘no’?”
Mr. Collington looked up at Sallie. “All I can say is that it would not be wise.”
“What would happen?”
“You will forfeit the money.” He held up his hand, signaling silence. “I’m through with the questions. Either you follow through, or we go back to the banks. If you don’t, it’ll be out of my hands.” His gaze became deadly serious. “And that will be regrettable. Certainly you’ve heard what happens to someone who tries to embezzle—steal large sums from organized crime syndicates?”
Sallie nodded, trying not to look intimidated.
“It’ll be worse.”
“Okay, okay.” Sallie rolled up her sleeve. Wide-eyed and gulping, she started at the pinkish glowing mass.
Mr. Collington pulled out a stopwatch. “Like I said before, press your fist in. Press down to the bottom of the box.”
“Then I want you out of here,” Sallie said, her voice cracking. “I never want to see you again.”
He placed a business card on the table. “My pager number. Often what we desire and how things work out are two different things.”
“Whatever,” she said and jammed her fist into the mass.
Sallie wanted to look, and did for a few seconds before closing her eyes and facing away. “It’s cold.” She gripped her elbow, holding her right hand in place. It felt like icy Jell-O slush, but with a buzz, like when she’d touched a 9-volt radio battery to her tongue as a kid. But where the charge had emanated from the battery, this time it was her body giving up the energy.
“Out now,” said Collington.
Sallie yanked her fist back without hesitation. Where she thought it would’ve been cold and wet, it wasn’t. She sat down, suddenly weak.
Mr. Collington rose to help her. “No,” she said. “Out now, like you promised.”
The short man deftly closed the box and suitcase.
“Take your card with you.”
“That, Ms. Thurstin, I won’t do. Goodbye.”
Sallie watched the short man in a tailored suit close the door behind him, and listened to him walk away. His steps sounded hollow. Or was it she who felt hollow, somehow empty inside? Like a jar that had once held marbles, was now filled with Styrofoam balls.
That evening was one of the most difficult Sallie’d ever suffered through with Justin. It was as if her milk didn’t satisfy him and maybe he sensed his mother’s anxiety. She even broke her rule, and allowed Justin to sleep in bed with her, to comfort him. Exhaustion drowned the young mother’s fears and concerns, dragging her into fitful sleep. Sallie’s dreams, her arm frigid up to the elbow in the glowing mass, drawing her into the darkness of a giant black canyon, crying for help and no one answering, didn’t wake her. Only when the cries of her baby mingled with hers, did Sallie stir to deal with her son’s post midnight changing and feeding.
After that Sallie felt a little better. The hollowness was fading and, after fitfully draining both breasts, Justin went back to sleep satisfied.
Justin didn’t cry again until after nine, as Sallie noted on the cheap Dollar Store wall clock. She kept it because of its cracked plastic face. A reminder of Cody’s violent outbursts and why she was better off without him.
She sat up and held Justin close. “We can get rid of that clock,” she whispered to him. “And buy a new one. Leave this dump—this life behind.”
It was then, hugging her son, that Sallie noticed he felt heavier. She held Justin out; he looked the same, but something didn’t feel right. She set him on her knee, causing her heart to race. The angle of her leg—her foot reached the floor from her broken-down bed, but not as easily!
Sallie jumped up to set Justin in his crib. She had to lift him higher. Her panic frightened her son. He started to cry as she stepped back, tears in her own eyes. “I can’t believe it! No.”
Intellectually she understood what Mr. Collington had explained. She was trading her bio-matrix, whatever that was—he never explained it clearly, for money. He said she’d lose biomass and stature. What she’d agreed to, he said, would equal four inches, no more.
Sallie didn’t have a ruler, or measuring tape, so she ran to the crate that held her one good pair of jeans and slid them on. “Please, Justin. Be quiet,” she said between quick breaths. “Just for a minute, pleeeaasse?”
It was true. The legs of her Guess jeans were a couple inches too long. The good news, Sallie thought, was that they were easier to button. She sat a moment with eyes closed, setting things straight in her head. It was unreal, but true. She had to deal with it for herself and her son. Besides, being just under five-foot wasn’t that bad; nothing a decent set of heels wouldn’t fix.
She couldn’t ignore her son any longer, and put her best face forward. “After breakfast, Justin, we’re going to go shopping.” For a fraction of a second, she wondered if Mr. Collington had somehow taken the money back—or that she’d shrink more! She grabbed the card with his beeper number on it. He wouldn’t lie, she thought. But he was gone. She hugged her son close and swung gently. “If the money’s still in the bank,” she said to her crying son, “everything will be okay.”
The money was still there, just as Collington had promised. And within a week, Sallie had a new Mustang GT convertible packed with suitcases of new clothes and was on the road south to Florida intent on finding a condo for herself and her son.
Sallie sat, holding back tears. Her attention was split between the looming bills stacked on the dining room table and Justin toddling around the living room. Since taking his first step two weeks prior, confinement to his playpen for more than a thirty minute span resulted in relentless crying.
Her bank accounts had drained faster than she thought possible. Electric bills, property taxes, car insurance, food, diapers—the pathetic interest on her account balances couldn’t keep up. And then health insurance for Justin. Sallie didn’t carry any for herself, but she couldn’t risk anything happening to her baby. And the welfare agencies wouldn’t give out support to someone owning a condo, driving a sports car and having any money in the bank.
Putting off the crisis hadn’t solved anything, ignoring late notices and not answering the recent spout of phone calls. Sallie could sell the condo—for a profit, but then she’d have to spend money on rent. And although the neighbors ignored her, and she ignored them, it was a good, safe neighborhood. She could get a job. For once she had reliable transportation. But who would watch her son? The cost for daycare would erase just about all the money she’d bring home, so what was the point?
Sallie thought about lying on the application forms for assistance, but if they caught up with her fraud, it could mean jail time. Then what would happen to Justin?
Then, next to the pile of bills sat Mr. Collington’s card. It offered a quick, easy answer, but with a long-term cost.
Justin began pulling CD’s from the entertainment center. Sallie got up and put them on a higher shelf. A job, she decided. I’ll try to get a good paying job. Better than calling that midget, Collington.
Sallie crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake Justin. She wasn’t in a hurry. Mr. Collington was in the dining room, with his metal box on the table. The thought made her sick to her stomach.
Seeing that Mr. Collington had closed the blinds to shut out prying eyes, she fought mixed emotions swirling inside her. Even if she’d wanted to tell someone about Collington, the box and its contents, somehow, Sallie knew that she couldn’t. The first encounter with the alien blob had done something more than shrink her. But she could speak her mind to the short man sitting in her home. “You planned all along. You knew I’d end up calling you.”
Mr. Collington shrugged. “It’s your choice.”
“Right. Like I have one.”
“You do, Miss Thurstin.”
Sallie folded her arms over her chest and looked away. “No I don’t. And you know it.”
“If you follow through with the transfer as discussed,” said Mr. Collington, shifting in the chair, “consider investing in yourself. Finishing high school, earn an advanced degree.”
“Whatever,” said Sallie, rolling her eyes. “Like you care.”
“Believe it or not, Sallie, I do.”
Sallie struggled to keep from yelling. “Why would I believe that?”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
Once again Sallie fought back tears. “Does a drug pusher have to lie to his...his...”
“Clientele?”
“Victims!”
“Sallie, you’re not a victim in life, unless you choose to be.”
Sallie rolled up her blouse sleeve. “Right. Let’s just get this over with.”
Mr. Collington unlocked the metal case and the box inside, revealing the pink glowing mass. “At least consider seeking employment.”
“Did that. Had a good waitressing job. But Justin got sick and I had to call off. Got fired.”
“Try again.”
“Yeah, next thing you’ll be telling me to find a man to take care of me and my son.” Images of Cody, all the bad ones, steeled Sallie for what she had to do. “Been there, done that. Not again.”
“I have faith in you, Sallie. You will discover the proper path.” He pulled out the stopwatch. “I did.”
“Don’t pretend to care. Just tell me when I’m done and get the hell out.”
The next morning, Sallie was $100,000 richer and two inches shorter. She spat on the business card left on the table, but somehow, couldn’t throw it away.
Sallie’d just put Justin onto the school bus, starting his second week of kindergarten. She walked down the street in her waitress uniform, absentmindedly biting her fingernails. She was in hock up to her ears. Credit cards maxed out, utilities about to be shut off, property taxes a year past due, and the monthly loan payment, borrowed against her condo to pay monthly expenses, was coming due.
She’d sold her Mustang six months ago, so it was five blocks to catch the bus for work. At least with Justin in school she didn’t have to pay all day for a sitter. But now that seemed like a drop in the savings bucket. Even coming up with bus fare was a daily concern.
Sallie checked her watch; five minutes till the bus rounded the corner. She fingered Collington’s business card in her pocket before fishing a quarter from her purse and headed for the pay phone across the street. She didn’t want to call from work and her phone at home had been shut off.
After three deep breaths, she managed to punch in the numbers. The operator called for more money, which she slid into the slit, regretting each ding as quarters and nickels fell. Goodbye bus fare. Sallie fumbled the receiver when Mr. Collington answered with a polite, “Hello.” She let out a huff. Of course he’d have a mobile phone, she thought.
“Hello?” Collington politely repeated.
“It’s me, Sallie Thurstin. And you know why.”
Justin was asleep when Mr. Collington pulled up in his Jeep Cherokee two days later. Sallie stared at him; well dressed, he looked carefree as ever, except for having to heft the suitcase up her condo’s steps. There was no way she was going to help him. Holding the door was more than the little creep deserved. “Little,” she mumbled, gritting her teeth, imagining her future with the way things were going. Then it struck her. Maybe he was so short because he’d been forced to stick his hand in the pink alien blob.
Mr. Collington nodded as he walked past her and into the dining room. Sallie wondered why she’d never pieced that together. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Collington?”
“Mainly, I work for a foundation.” He set the case on the table and looked at her outfit. “I see you’re a waitress.”
“Was. Got laid off yesterday. Just as well.” She paused, shutting the door. “Justin and I are packing up and leaving town Monday.”
He nodded as if he understood.
“So,” said Sallie, shifting her weight back and forth, “have you ever stuck your hand in that alien matrix sucker?”
“Bio-energy matrix repository. And what would make you think that?”
Sallie walked up to Mr. Collington and looked down. She was a still about a head taller. “Why do you think?”
“You suspect this of everyone who happens to be short of stature?”
“No, only little men who carry shiny suitcases.”
He turned his back on her and began closing the blinds. “I take it that you didn’t heed my advice and get an education.”
“What does that got—have to do with anything?”
“Miss Thurstin, I’d ask that you keep your voice down.” He nodded toward a picture of Justin hanging on the wall. “Am I correct in assuming your son is asleep upstairs?” Collington strode back over to the table and began unlocking the metal case. Sallie just glared at him.
“But in answer to your question,” he said. “Honestly, more than you might think.”
Sallie’s temper was up, and she was torn between ripping into the cocky munchkin and holding back. If she ticked him off too much, he might not deposit the money she needed. She sighed. Telling him off didn’t matter any more. Better to get what she wanted and him out the door. This was the last time she was ever going to deal with him anyway.
With a huff, she rolled up her sleeve. “Sorry. Let’s just get this over with. How much will five inches get me?”
Mr. Collington pulled out his stopwatch as his left eyebrow rose. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Sallie said, hands on her hips, putting on a brave front. “Last time I looked, college was expensive.”
The next morning, Sallie didn’t want to get out of bed. The hollowness was gone, and she knew why. She held the sheets over her head, thinking. Maybe she’d gone too far with Mr. Collington. After she’d pulled her arm out, she told him to get the f-ing hell out, and that she never ever wanted to see his sorry ass again. He complied, not even leaving a business card like he’d done before. She prayed the quarter million was in her accounts. She needed it. Working as a 4’10” waitress—the only job she knew—was hard enough. Now it’d be impossible.
Sallie heard Justin flush the toilet. The sun was out and that meant he’d be wanting breakfast. She threw the covers aside and gently reached a toe to the floor, having to stretch farther than ever before. She stood, gazing around the room from a noticeably depressed angle. This wasn’t like the last two times. The world was all at once, so much bigger. She walked over to the dresser, trying to look on the bright side. At least she could see in the top drawer without having to stand on her toes.
“Mommy?”
Focused on her own thoughts, Justin’s voice startled her. She smiled at her son standing in the doorway. “Mommy will get your breakfast in just a minute, honey.”
“Mommy,” the five-year old said, wide-eyed, pointing at her. “Look! Your pajamas grew.”
Justin sensed something was different with his mother, but he never quite figured it out. Sallie knew for sure her life had changed. Trying to pack for moving was a nightmare. Reaching cupboards, shelves and closet storage required a lot more than her handy stepstool. Boxes and baskets she’d lifted before, she now struggled to move about. Even holding Justin on her lap was awkward. And trying to find adult clothes in her size was impossible. She had the money to have outfits tailored or custom made, but Sallie wasn’t going down that road again. She couldn’t afford it.
In the end, Sallie caught up on her bills and did what she could to prepare for their move to Atlanta. Everything of value had been sold over the past year, so there wasn’t much anyway. And what decent clothes she still had went to a consignment shop. A hired mover loaded and transported her and Justin’s possessions to their moderate, two-bedroom one-bath apartment. She followed in her low-mileage, used Ford Escort, modified with seating and pedal extensions for her reduced stature.
Sallie wondered about Mr. Collington, and how he functioned as a midget in a full-sized world. She estimated she still had a few inches on him, and her situation was bad enough. He had money, that was for sure. Maybe he got it the same way she did, in exchange for sticking his hand in the alien bio-mass stealer. It wasn’t the first, or the last time that thought crossed her mind. If so, he’d done better than she had. At least better than she had in the past.
This time things would be different. She stretched to adjust the rear-view mirror to get a glimpse of Justin in the back, riding in his booster seat. She had to make sure.
With a dozen pictures of Justin and his date taken before they headed to dinner on the way to their senior prom, Sallie clutched the digital camera, thinking how far he’d come. Eight hundredths of a point separated her son from the class Valedictorian. Still, he’d earned a sizeable scholarship to Georgia Tech. In his graduation speech as senior class president, he remarked how watching his mother work and study, all while raising him, had set a good example. With all of her shortcomings, he’d joked, he always strove to follow in her footsteps. To make her proud of him. Sallie was.
She stepped back in the doorway, watching as a black Lincoln Navigator turned into the cul-de-sac. She’d half-closed the door when the vehicle pulled into her driveway. Sallie watched. The neighborhood’s curving streets and near identical houses, more often than not, left a driver checking mailboxes before backing out mildly confused, in search of the correct destination.
A cold chill ran down her spine as she involuntarily clenched her teeth. Not this evening, Sallie realized. Tinted windows or no, she recognized him, and was tempted to close the door. No, she hadn’t called Mr. Collington. But she’d considered more than a few choice thoughts over the years to convey to him if she ever got the chance. Tonight, it seemed, might offer that chance.
The little man climbed down out of the full-sized SUV. He hasn’t changed, she thought, recalling the big Cherokee he used to drive. And he had the nerve to lug the silver suitcase along with him.
He had on a gray sport jacket, which matched his thinning hair. His easy, polite grin hadn’t changed. He strode up the walk and stopped at the porch’s bottom step. “Good evening, Ms. Thurstin.”
Sallie stood erect, reminding herself that she wasn’t the young, desperate, uneducated mother of their last encounter. “A good evening to you, Mr. Collington. There must be some mistake. I didn’t call.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Nor have I thought about you in years.”
“Incorrect, correct and doubtful.”
Sallie frowned, momentarily taken aback, until she connected his statement with her assertions. “You never struck me as a person without some purpose behind his actions.” She thought of her son. “What do you want?”
“May I come in?”
“You may, but not the box.”
“You know better than to expect I’d leave it unattended in my car.” He scanned the house next door. “Even in a decent neighborhood.”
She leaned against the door frame. “My son has taken the car. You’re welcome to park it in the garage.”
“I understand your hesitancy, Ms. Thurstin.”
“No, you don’t, Mr. Collington.” Over the years, Sallie had come to realize the alien organism exerted some measure of control over her. She knew the alien thing was something she could never openly discuss. Mr. Collington had relayed as much to her. But once, four years ago, she tried to jot down her experience in a private journal. Tried, but couldn’t. Her fingers froze up.
“You sought me out. Came calling without my request, Travis Collington. And this is my home.”
“Quite true, Sallie Thurstin.” He set the box on the first step and leaned forward on it, looking all the part of a door-to-door salesman. “Aren’t you the least bit curious as to why I am here?”
“To be honest, I am. And there are a few choice things I’ve thought about telling you over the years.”
“Well,” he said, holding his arms wide, “now is your chance.” Then he leaned closer, adding in a quiet voice. “But you know it cannot be accomplished where others might overhear.”
After a second’s hesitation, Sallie held the door open. “You both can come in,” she said.“But it stays in the foyer.”
Sallie had waited for and imagined the moment at hand—her chance to give Travis Collington a piece of her mind. How he had taken advantage of a desperate, helpless teen with an even more innocent and helpless infant. But as he sat across the table from her, sipping Earl Grey tea she’d made, the resentment that had built up over the years waned. She looked over his shoulder at the case sitting next to the closed and locked front door, wondering if that might somehow be affecting her mood.
“Good tea,” said Mr. Collington, interrupting her thoughts.
“It’s a fairly straightforward recipe.” Sallie noted the crow’s feet around her guest’s eyes as he smiled. A genuine smile—or a finely honed deception. “Thank you anyway.”
“I see you had the kitchen built with lower counters and cupboards. Not surprising. I should have done the same, but never got around to it.”
Sallie tried to imagine what sort of house Travis Collington would have. Manicured lawn, probably behind a stone wall. She rubbed her hand on the oak tabletop. “Why isn’t it a surprise?”
“I gathered one of the reasons you invited me in was because you had a thing or two you wanted to express.”
“Don’t change the subject, Mr. Collington.” Maybe his off-hand remark would get her ire up again, she thought.
“Please, call me Travis.”
“Okay, Travis. Please call me Sallie. And why isn’t it a surprise that I had my kitchen custom built to my stature, while you apparently never did?”
“How many patents do you have in your name, Sallie?”
“I suspect you already know the answer to that. Is this a game we’re playing?”
Mr. Collington gave an innocent look. “I don’t believe so. But yes, I did catch your name among the graduates from the Georgia Tech’s Engineering department. Suma cum laude, if I accurately recall.”
Sallie sipped her tea. “Besides the fact that you’ve gone out of your way to keep track of me, you still haven’t answered the question?”
“After a fashion I have.” He swirled the remaining contents of his tea. “All three of your patents are focused on assisting the physically disabled? You are a senior partner in a company which designs, manufactures, and distributes prosthetic devices for physically handicapped children and adults?” He gestured with his hands to the modified kitchen around him. “Why wouldn’t I be surprised?”
Sallie refrained from shaking her head. Of course. Just being around Mr. Collington—Travis, kept drawing her back to their earlier relationship. She learned that he’d kept track of her over the years. Not a surprise in itself really. “So, what do you do for a living?”
“Not so much anymore.”
Sallie stood up. “Why are you being evasive?” She took a breath and sat back down. “Once before I asked you if you’d ever stuck your hand in the alien bio-energy matrix repository. You never answered. I’d like to know.”
He emptied his cup of its contents. “Which question would you like answered?”
“Both.”
“In any particular order?”
“No, the order doesn’t matter. But I’d also like to know after that, why you’re here.”
“Okay,” he said, now grinning. “Only if you provide me with another cup of tea.”
“That I’ll do.” Sallie stood. “Mind if I use the microwave to heat the water instead of the stove?” Finally getting some answers out of the man put her in a better mood. “I can manipulate microwave buttons with the best of them.”
“If the recipe works,” he said, his gaze following Sallie as she took his cup, rinsed, then filled it with water. “Yes, I did contribute a significant portion of my bio-matrix in my youth.”
“Why,” asked Sallie, standing a few feet back from the humming microwave.
“A fourth question,” said Mr. Collington with an amused smile. “But a fair one. For the money of course—just like you.” He held up a hand, stalling Sallie’s next question. “My mother needed a kidney transplant. Things were somewhat primitive back then, but even so, without insurance, the hospital wanted cash up front. A gentleman bearing a silver box offered me a opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”
Sallie frowned.
Mr. Collington chuckled. “Oh, not to worry, Sallie. I wasn’t all that altruistic. I lost most of the money before a proper donor was found. See, I was fond of betting the horses, and not especially good at picking the winners. And you can guess how I replenished the funds.
“Anyway, my mother’s immune system rejected the transplant and she died two weeks later. I suspect you can fill in the blanks.”
The microwave dinged but Sallie didn’t respond until he said, “My tea?”
She made her way back to the table with the steaming cup, and a fresh teabag. “But you have the box now?”
“Let me finish.” Mr. Collington stirred in a teaspoon of sugar. “In the end, like you, I got my act together. I partnered with a business man with a medical degree. We bought out a small pharmaceutical company, attracted additional investors, worked to develop more effective immunosuppressant drugs to help patients survive transplants.
“For the past fifteen years I’ve spent my time serving on several charitable boards, mainly focused on funding and distribution of badly needed drugs to third world nations.”
After he was silent for about twenty seconds, sipping his tea, Sallie said, “Interesting, if somewhat vague. But that doesn’t answer why you’re here. I didn’t contact you and I don’t ever intend to stick my hand in that alien mass again.”
“Of that I’m sure,” said Travis Collington. “But, whereas my story with the silver suitcase is about to end, yours is not.” He pushed his cup of tea aside. “See, I am here because it’s my time to retire.”
Sallie read the text message from her son while waiting in her Saturn VUE, the silver suitcase strapped down in the back seat. Justin had aced his first chemistry exam.
She didn’t let the good news distract her. Men and women began exiting the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. She caught sight of her quarry by his dark, curly hair. Gordon Waxmin, recent high-school dropout, and two-time DUI offender.
At the direction of the alien symbiote, she’d identified and followed young Mr. Waxmin, now living in a halfway house. Travis Collington had been truthful about the purpose of the alien creature in the box. It was one half of a symbiotic relationship with another alien creature hidden in the Ozark Mountains. The senior partner, lying injured and dormant, was sustained by the phosphorescent creature behind her. The extraterrestrials were waiting for rescue that wouldn’t arrive until Sallie herself was long in her grave.
She participated only on the symbiotic relationship’s periphery, attuned to the junior symbiote’s thought waves and acting as a vehicle to secure the energy that sustained the alien pair.
Her senses and perception heightened, she agreed with the pink alien that, in approximate phonetic translation, referred to itself as Ul-grosh-gogg. Yes, Gordon had great potential: A superior mind and empathetic heart, one destined to better the lives of his fellow humans. Only if, it seemed, there emerged a situational catalyst to spark him. To set him down the right path.
Sallie wasn’t one-hundred percent sure. But Ul-grosh-gogg was. She checked her .38 snub-nose revolver, secure in its holster under her jacket. Even if it was three in the afternoon, this wasn’t the best neighborhood. Maybe someday she’d come to trust Ul-grosh-gogg’s empathetic perception. She started her vehicle and shifted into drive.
Normally the alien rode secured by special straps in the passenger seat. Not today. It was reserved for Gordon. Sallie slowed, keeping pace with the young man as he as he strode down the sidewalk. He was frustrated, she sensed—thanks to the pink alien. Gordon knew he’d just lied at the meeting. He’d get a drink somehow tonight. He was hungry too. And that was Sallie’s opening.
She lowered the passenger side window. “Hey,” she said with a disarming smile. “You look like you could use a decent meal.” It was true. A faded T-shirt and tattered jeans hung on his lanky frame.
Gordon’s first thought was, ‘Stupid lady. How does she know I’m not some rapist?’ He stopped. “You buyin’, lady?”
Sallie nodded and unlocked the passenger door. “Consider me a Good Samaritan. Get in.”
Gordon’s next thought as he opened the door was, ‘Only cost this chick a meal to set her straight. Lucky she met me.’
He’s the right one, Sallie thought, but internally she frowned. The morality of the symbiotic alien pair drove them to repay the individual human host they fed off of while plotting to benefit, as much as possible, humanity as a whole. The warped alien logic required that any symbiotic relationship benefit at least one partner beyond the sum donations of the individuals involved. In humanity’s case the resulting benefits were species-wide, and not restricted to the principals involved.
But for now Gordon would remain unaware of the part he was about to play. And Sallie knew firsthand the fear, anguish, and anger he’d experience along the way. That was a consequence Ul-grosh-gogg acknowledged as a part of the process, but it was something the alien intellect couldn’t fathom or come to understand.
“The Exchange Box” first appeared in Mystic Signals, Volume 10, May 2011
