Area 51 is the name of a military airfield in Nevada, and America’s best evidence that if people don’t know what something is, they will create an identity for it. At least, it is a location for weapons’ testing, certainly secretive. And at most, if you listen to conspiracy theorists, all sorts of dark work is being done, including and especially in regards to aliens. It is also the name of a highly addictive video game that happens to reside in the Family Arcade.
Presently, I was blasting my way through the third round of Area 51, Sam by my side, and though I can’t stand video games, this one had me hooked. I hadn’t even wanted to come to Jeff Travers’ Family Arcade, but having a plastic gun in my hand and shooting aliens seemed to help clear my head, just as Sam promised.
“I hear you found your shoes,” Sam prompted.
I huffed and rolled my eyes. “I swear, you can’t even burp in this town without everyone talking about it.”
Sam laughed. “Surprised you didn’t mention-”
“I’m still trying to figure it out myself,” I defended, shooting my way through a storage facility. “Anyone could have put them there.”
“True. Just like the gun,” Sam replied. After Darryl Chambers was murdered, his mother planted the gun she used behind my spare tire. Though having a Jeep is fitting for an island lifestyle, its openness has proved problematic – for the planting of evidence and the sudden rainstorms.
“Any news on the girl?” I asked mid-triggering. A few days had passed since that catastrophe, and though I knew I had to stop thinking about what had happened to her and instead focus on what might be happening to me, I couldn’t. In between staring blankly at bills, I’d done Internet research on the number four, drugs, poisons, and the topography of the Peacock. Shoes or no shoes, I was determined not to be crazy, just like the verse propped up on my desk read – sound mind.
“No.”
“So, what has been going on at work? Anything?” I tried.
“We’re usually pretty quiet this time of year, or starting to be,” Sam explained, taking out two aliens that had jumped through an elevator shaft. His score tripled mine, and it hardly seemed like he was trying. “But, we have seen a jump in drug activity lately. Kent’s making us all undergo a training program in Wilmington. Williams and I go tomorrow, all day.”
“What kind of drugs?”
Sam shrugged, popping an alien behind me while I shot a barrel to make it explode, taking out two more. Their guts sprayed the screen. “Usual stuff. Mostly weed and X, though a couple officers busted some kids the other night for cocaine. Don’t see that everyday. But, I guess I’ll learn all about it tomorrow.”
I smiled. “Hard to picture you in a classroom.”
“Not my favorite assignment, but for the greater good, I guess,” he smirked. I eyed his face a second too long, and got killed by the aliens. I groaned in frustration, and wanted to throw the gun at the screen.
“Maybe we should play something a little less violent,” he laughed and pulled me over to Skee Ball. The balls racked up and we started rolling, side by side.
“So, have you made any decisions about the whole fix-it list thing?” he asked. His voice was hesitant, rightly so. TIBA was the last thing I wanted to think about, now or ever. Only a few days had passed since the delivery of their demands, and I’d only grown more and more angry. Around every corner someone was pestering me about it. Lionel Waters had called this morning to get a status update. Marla Britt wouldn’t serve me donuts in her shop yesterday saying that once I did some work, I could earn the right to have her donuts. And, of course, every time I see one of my aunts, I’m staring down their Cheshire cat smiles. Now, we’ve got you where we want you. I hadn’t done anything, but stew.
Finally, to answer his question, I said, “No.”
Sam rolled his next ball, reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a thick, wrinkled envelope. “Here.”
“What’s this?” I asked. He pushed it toward me. It was unsealed, so I peered into the opening to see an enormous wad of cash, several thousands of dollars. “What the-”
“Don’t go crazy,” Sam said softly, eyeing me. “I have it. You need it. Simple as that.”
“No,” I insisted. “Absolutely not!” I shoved it back to him, but he put his hands up. I let the envelope drop to the floor with a smack. I stopped Skee Ball and headed for Ms. Pacman.
“I want to help you,” he argued, following me after he scooped up the money. “Beach Read needs repairs, and this should go pretty far-”
“No!” I insisted again.
“You took money from your parents,” he argued.
“They bought me a stove, and some furniture. So?”
“You should take money from me,” he returned.
“No, that’s different.”
“How?” he demanded. He gently tugged on my arm until I turned away from the game to face him. “How is it different?” he asked, eyes delving into mine. “And don’t say it’s because they’re family. It would kill me, if you said that.”
My resolve weakened at his expression. I scrunched my eyebrows together. There was no one on this earth I felt closer to than Sam, and yet, it hadn’t really occurred to me that we were family. And for his sake, he shouldn’t want to be.
“It’s not that,” I replied after a minute. “It’s bad enough that the building’s been handed to me. For the rest to be handed to me too, then what have I done? What have I accomplished on my own?”
“Call it a loan, if you want. Make me an investor,” he compromised, pushing the envelope toward me again.
“No, it’s too much of a risk-”
“So, you won’t take my money because you don’t think you can pay me back?” he reasoned.
“Right. I’m pretty sure I can’t.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “Then maybe the problem with Beach Read is you.”
I set my eyes back on Ms. Pacman and her tedious task of eating pellets. Sam had a point. If I didn’t believe in Beach Read, then how could I ever succeed?
Sam set his arm around my waist and kissed my neck. “I love you. The money’s here, if you change your mind.”
“I love you, too,” I said, “and I do appreciate the offer.” He tucked the money away, and I smirked. “You really think you should be carrying that much money around? Tipee’s a hotbed of criminals, you know.”
Sam laughed, as if daring those said-criminals to come out of the woodwork and try to accost him. No, if I were a thief, I wouldn’t mess with him either. Sam was tall, broad and muscular, downright intimidating even without his police uniform. But, it wasn’t just his physique. It was his presence. I half-wondered if he viewed the world through a site. Alongside the kind, loving, tender parts of him, there was a part of Sam that felt very Jason Bourne to me. He was constantly analyzing, teeth clenched, ready. I was pretty sure he could roll a Skee Ball while simultaneously taking out a Ninja, and still hit the 100 point ring. While this mysterious air about him was exciting, I also feared it, the same way people get so hung up on Area 51. What’s going on there? What kind of secrets does it hold? I wondered if I’d ever get through all the levels.