From: aa811@cleveland.freenet.edu (Terri M. Librande) Newsgroups: alt.ql.creative Subject: The final part of Terrible Price! Date: 17 Jun 1993 22:37:02 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA) Lines: 167 Message-Id: <1vqrme$237@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Nntp-Posting-Host: slc5.ins.cwru.edu sorry it took so long gang... Here goes... The kid had been the first thing waking me, after only an hour of fitful dozing. Screaming over and over, let me go, I want my mother, and a million other frightened child phrasings. It took every bit of patience to keep from telling the child to shut up, and eventually, he soothed down. I needed time alone with Al,. and any minute Mom would be returning, my constant guardian. Couldn't blame the woman, not a bit. She thought her once stable, bright little boy had suddenly gone through a behavioral change, or at least that's what I caught when I listened on the phone conversation this morning. Now, Al was giving me one of those looks that made me feel like he could see into my soul, and it wasn't helping matters much. He was worried, too. I pushed off the chair and headed for my bedroom, which seemed the only place in the house I could have a modicum of privacy. I slumped on the floor next to a large toy chest, and looked up at my holographic friend. "He won't tell me a thing, Al." "Well, maybe I can talk to him." "He's too old to see you...I think." <> I jolted as the words came over clearly in my head. <> Half-laughing, I scratched an eyebrow, looking at my bewildered friend. "He says you dress like a clown, Al." "I'm not insulted." Al sounded like a man with far too much on his mind to worry about a childish observance. "Clear your head, Sam. Maybe I can get through to Walt, here." His eyes lifted to meet mine, and I was damned sure he could see how scared I was. Every bit of control I had was keeping that child from coming through, and if I gave that up, I was afraid of not being Sam Beckett again. "Trust me," he said, and I did, closing off the part of my mind that was me, and allowing Walt to come forth. It happened so quickly, the moment I let go. In a moment, I was in the dark place again, understanding now why Walt was so scared. It was a pretty frightening thing, to be in the black velvet void, and I had to squelch my own sense of panic. "Walter?" Al's voice was soothing. I knew he was terrific with children, and had witnessed it a few times on leaps. The little I remembered of life back at the Project, and our infrequent younger visitors, made me smile. He'd be like the Pied Piper, leading the kids around, them hanging on his every word. That was why I trusted him, because I was sure he was the only person that could make Walter remember. "Hey, kiddo." Al's entire posture and tone had changed. I could sense the child's attention focused on him. "You went fishing, huh? I do some of that. I've even got a boat." That was news to me, but I'd probably Swiss-Cheesed it. <> The voice was shy and small, but at least he was returning conversation, and that was more than I had accomplished. <> "Might be a little difficult, but I'll do my best, kid." *************** Wild. One moment I was crounched in front of Sam, the next, the eyes giving me the look of a lifetime were eight years old. Or seven. I sensed Sam was still there, but the kid was in the pilot's seat for this run. We made some small talk, the kid cozaninging up to me, but still reticent. "Walter," I said, changing my tone to dead serious. "I want you to tell me about Mr. Belton." "Don't want to." "Can you tell Bouncer." "How can I tell Bouncer something I can't remember?" "Because you do remember, Walt. It will help Mr. Belton. He was your friend, wasn't he?" The tears that filled the child's eyes told me the story. I'd dug a little on Belton--found out that he'd taught school in Littlefield, grade school. He'd been there for six years, and Walt was one of his students. Took the kids for field trips and, in his spare time, did a little time in Vegas. Played the big rollers, trying to make that quick win, the one thing he needed the most...money. He was dealinig with estate tax on his newly deceased father's place, and trying to take care of a comatose mother. "Listen, Walt." His head lifted, like a little man, waiting for me to prompt him. "You can help Mr. Belton, if you remember. Right now, the grownups here, including your mommy, are very worried. If you don't tell them what happened, and who killed your teacher, the bad guys will never be caught and punished for what they did to him. "Bouncer will be really mad at me. I did something wrong." "What? Not telling him was pretty wrong." "I didn't save Mr. Belton." His small voice was full of tears, dripping from his eyes and down his cheeks. "They said since there were no witnesses, they could kill him, like on TV, and I was a witness but didn't tell them. If I had, they wouldn't have shot Mr. Belton. He fell and died." I knew that scenario well enough; it haunted my nightmares, remembering Sam's face, at the end. "It doesn't work that way, Walt," I said carefully. "If you had told them you were there, those men would've killed you, too." A small frown appeared on his face, then just the barest ghost of a smile. "Then, it wasn't my fault." "No. You need to tell Bouncer what they said and what you saw, so he can arrest them." "And they won't hurt anyone else?' "Exactly kiddo." I dind't add that his confession would result in the relocation of him and his mother to another place for a while, but things would get back to normal later, after the trial. My head turned as I heard the door open, and the kid's mother entered, a big policeman right behind her. "They can't see me," I said quickly. "This is one secret you can keep." ************* I cried out for Al, but the sensation of the quantum energy tickled my senses and he was gone. In seconds, I was leaping again, but this time... it was different. I felt directionalized, pointed, as if... My eyes opened to brilliant light, a blinding whiteness, then soothing voices speaking to me. For an instant, I thought I was home in the Waiting Room, my friends around me, bringing me to consciousness. My spirits fell the moment I focused, seeing the strange faces hovering over me, curious and a little apprehensive. "Cut! That's a take!" I managed to come to my feet, assisted by men wearing headsets, smiling at me, saying what a great job I'd done. Great, I was very pleased, but where the hell was I? Movie cameras? I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the lenses. I looked exactly like.... "Great job "Mr. Oswald"!" The man who'd shouted 'cut' patted me on the back. "JFK is going to be the greatest movie ever!!" "OH BOY!" End -- "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