“What are those things?” Rachel asked.
Samantha wasn’t exactly sure, but she thought it was the entire reason for their being here on Earth.
“When I came near enough to swim under my own power,” she went on, “I disembarked and sank the pod. The ones you found may have resurfaced accidentally.”
She didn’t dare think of the horrible alternative: that her comrades had been captured and imprisoned ten years ago, perhaps even allowed to die.
“What did you do when you got on land?” Barbara asked. She had taken a seat on the tabletop and was leaning forward to catch every softly spoken word.
“It was dark, and I could see the glow of the ship’s explosion just along the horizon,” Samantha said. “I made my way down the beach, looking for a place to hide and rest.”
Looking for a place to change.
“I found an empty house near the jetty,” she said.
“The yellow house with green shutters?” Wil guessed.
Samantha nodded.
“I never spent a childhood in there,” she said. “I think I must have picked up some false memories in the time I was hidden away. I’m sure I was hurt, and exhausted; maybe even in shock. The house had been deserted, but earlier that summer a family had stayed there. A child must have used that pail and shovel you found in the ruins, Wil. In my hurt mind, I made that toy my own.”
Rachel stood up and walked across the room to the door. She looked out the small window and saw they were under heavy guard. Then she turned back and said:
“It still doesn’t explain where these children came from, or why we feel so drawn to them.”
“I think I know who can answer those questions,” Samantha replied. “The child they’re still holding prisoner—Marty.”
She looked at Wil.
“He called the children to this place,” she said. “He must know everything.”
Wil was about to reply when the door opened. Then a huge man walked in, fixing his piggish eyes on each of them in turn, and Lorraine backed up into Wil’s arms. He put his hands on her shoulders.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
LaBerge glared at him.
“You are in no position to ask questions,” he said. “However, I will tell you my name is Walter LaBerge. Now, you tell me who you are.”
“Wil Sherer,” the former cop replied. “I’m a detective, from Ashleigh Creek, Colorado.”
“I didn’t ask where you were from,” LaBerge snapped. “Although I might have. What right do you have to be here in New Jersey?”
“I’m a private detective,” Wil amended. He nodded toward Samantha and Julie. “Samantha Winstead and the child named Julie are my clients.”
LaBerge looked at them. Julie turned her face into Samantha’s arm.
“I see,” he mumbled. He looked at the black family. “I know who you are. Your wallets told me. Eric Freleng and Rachel Freleng, of Columbus, Ohio.”
He rocked back on his heels.
“You’re from all over the map, aren’t you?” he said. “But it isn’t residents of the USA I’m interested in.”
He looked down at Lorraine.
“What do you know of Marty?” he asked. “What connection could a human child have with that creature?”
“Marty’s my friend!” Lorraine wailed. “I already told you that!”
“Yes, I know,” LaBerge said. “And I think you’ve been lying. I think you’re all liars. You know something, don’t you? Don’t you?”
Lorraine hugged Wil tightly.
“I’d suggest you stop terrorizing little children, LaBerge,” Wil said. “You’re holding us prisoners against our will. That’s a federal offense, although I have a feeling you understand all about things that are ‘federal.’ “
LeBarge turned his attention to the detective.
“Don’t play cop with me,” he said. “Have you forgotten we confiscated your gun?”
Wil didn’t give him the courtesy of an answer.
The fat man turned to Samantha.
“And you,” he said. “What do you know of our alien specimen? I’m told you put on quite a show when you saw him.”
Samantha stiffened. It wasn’t right to call a sentient being a “specimen”! she thought.
“I have an idea,” LaBerge said. “I’m going to bring you all downstairs. Maybe if you meet Marty as a group, you’ll be more willing to answer my questions.”
Lorraine whispered into Wil’s ear, “Why does he keep talking about Marty in such a funny way? What’s wrong with Marty?”
“Nothing,” Wil whispered back. “He’s exaggerating.”