From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: Mercury Theater #5 Date: 2 Oct 1993 13:33:07 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA) Lines: 86 Message-Id: <28jvuj$p7j@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu hey if anyone is reading this and has comments--nows the time to give 'em to me. We need to start posting or this is all going away. Sorry it took so long to get to part 5. "That's nonsense." I was damned curious, even as I said the words with a snort. Now, I had two enigmas--the 'kid' and the "ghost'. And no answers. Something, intuition, maybe, told me this was teh right tact. Sam was at my shoulder, listening in with half his hearing, nodding at something Gooshie was saying with the other half. "Nobody's going to communicate with the Nazi's now." "Y'never know." the man shrugged, then pursed his lips. "To hell with it. I'm going in and listen in on his apartment. You'd better go check on the kid, Marty, and tend to your family. Christ, this might be the last night we live on this earth." The group broke up, probably going to their respective apartments for more gossip or to say goodbye to their Maker. I had to check on 'the kid'. What apartment? Silent, Sam followed me as I took a deep breath and entered the building. Checked the mailboxes for names, nothng there. Got the neighbor of the Ghost, though; Slovisk, Marge and Arthur. The box nex to that was labelled Gidding, Alexander. Next to that was M. Messling and son. Maybe the kid, maybe not. I took the steps two at a time, brushing past the old couple, creeping behind me with exaggerated slowness. "Al, will you talk to me please?" "Now you know how it feels, when you go off on a tangent. Just a hunch, Sam," I said as I trotted down the L shaped hall in search of the manning apartment. I passed one door, hearing the whine of some kind of radio frequency, but no words, then 203. Knocking, I waited, hearing in some semblance of movement from inside. Then, the door opened. The boy was wearing braces on both legs, using crutches to walk. Squinting up at me, he grinned, showing a smile with one missing tooth, black hair falling over one eye as he surveyed me. "Hiya, Marty. what's all the excitement?" "The Martians have landed, kid." "Aw, that' s just a radio show. Orson Wells, the Mercury Theatre! Gee whiz!" he looked perfectly disgusted, and I didn't blame him. "Is that why everyone is running in the street?" "I guess so." Hands in pockets, I follwed the kid into the apartment, surveying the dark room around me. The raido was on, playing on after The radio was on, playing an after shave commercial, perfect peace in the midst of chaos. "I got a name, Al." Sam was giving the boy a worried look, watching him scott back onthe couch, dropping the crutches to the floor. "Andy Messling, age nine. He had polio when he was seven. I had Ziggy doing some checking of his birth records, most of which exist in the old archives." I was beginning to feel like a dinosaur, realizing how much time had elapsed between the time of the here and now, and where Sam was, in the future. "Andy," I said, addressing the boy. "Maybe you can come upstairs with me and Dottie, just until your Mom comes home. There's a lot of sh...things hitting the fan right now and mabye being alone isn't the best idea right now." "I can't." He gave me a strange look as if I should know better than to ask him such a thing. "Alex might need me." "Alex?" "Y'know, the Ghost. Next door? he's been moving around a lot tonight, maybe a little worried. He never listens to the radio, just that ham job he has and I can sort of sense when he's upset or afraid." I glanced at Sam for support and recieved a shrug. No help there. "Alex Gidding?" he said, as if wondering why I was staring stupidly at him. "I guess... well,you guys thinnk he's some kind of freak, but he's not--not really. Just quiet, doesn't talk much. I think people talk too much, about nothing. Alex says that. He's from Europe and siad that's what got people in trouble there. Talking." More to com....the final part and then I NEED HELP? -- "Girls who have glasses have lots & lots of energy!" Al--Single Drop of Rain Terri Librande aa811@cleveland.Freenet.edu--Assistant Sysop The Science Fiction and Fantasy Sig--Go SCIFI