Frank sat at the desk in his bedroom, booted up his computer and waited until the monitor display gave him the okay to progress. In this time he thumbed through the Daily News and found a picture of the mayor inside, the caption bragging about the recent diminishing of New York's homeless population being greatly in part to the work of his appointed charities.
Frank grinned. Anything for a vote.
"Dad, I'm going out."
Frank looked up. Jaimie smiled, as beautiful as ever. "Be careful, hon."
"Of course. I'll be home by eight." She held up the cell phone Frank bought for her. "I'll call if I get held up."
"Have fun."
Jaimie stepped away, then stuck her head back through the door. "Dad?"
He looked up. "Back so soon?"
She smiled. "You've done nothing but play on that computer since you retired. I hope you're not working, because if you are I'll have to call Neil up and tell him to come over and help you out." The grin on her face told Frank that she had pretty much recovered from the memories of her—their—experience six months ago.
Frank rolled his eyes. "Get lost—"
"Unless you've got yourself an internet girlfriend..."
"I wish!" he shouted as she giggled and walked away.
He faced the computer and signed on to the internet. Once the squelch granted him access, he checked his e-mail.
Two Messages
He clicked on the first message:
Frank,
Haven't heard anything as of yet. My lead yesterday came up empty, so I'm sorry to say we still have to go on what we have at the moment, which isn't much but, it's still something. Talk to you later.
Hector
He clicked on message two:
FB,
We've got secondary reports coming in from our eyes in Omaha. Three kids now missing. Two separate witness accounts have given reports of what appear to be Harbingers. One of the sketches is now circulating the Omaha area. I've attached the file. I think this is our cue, FB. I think we ought to go to Omaha.
It would be nice to finally meet you, FB. Let me know what you think.
Ruefully yours,
Sanskrit@prs.com
Frank aimed the mouse pointer over the download button and pressed it.
The sketch came up.
Bald.
Sunglasses.
Frank opened his desk drawer and removed the black plastic bag inside. He unfolded it and took out the object that had greeted him so spookily on his living room floor when he arrived home that fateful night six months ago.
He kept it in a safe place, knowing that someday he would need it.
Frank saved the picture file on a disk, signed off, then phoned Hector, carefully placing the Atmosphere back into the bag.
"Hello?" Hector answered.
"Hect, we're going to Omaha."