The Crocker Chronicles

Chapter 2

"Return To Sender"

12 November

Well, as far as first assignments go, I could've gotten a lot worse. It's usually snowing by now in Haven, and here in Isla de Jean-Batiste, Panama, where I am currently located, it's a balmy 85. It's nice. It's beautiful, even.

But I can't stop thinking about Susie with that glowing black hand print stamped on her back that only I can see. If Audrey were here, she'd see it too. But she's gone, and Nathan's back in Haven living happily ever after with the new version of her. So it's just me and Howard and Vince; three not-quite-human-anymore guys just kicking around paradise. It sounds like the premise to a comedy; but we're not here for fun. Already I've spotted four other people with the same hand print, and I've only been here a day. Somebody's been awfully busy handing out Troubles and if I don't find out who it is soon, we're going to have another Haven on our hands.

I found a job fairly quick; the hotel owner, Jake, is an old beach bum who came down for a visit and stayed type. The hotel is really small, no more than 20 rooms, plus bungalows that the staff can stay in, including yours truly. I get to run one of the two fishing charter boats. My boat is named The Scarlet Lady. The Cape Rouge she ain't, but she's mine for now.

It turns out that aether-me is a lot like the original me; I get hungry, thirsty, and tired just like a human. Howard says that he and Vince made it that way, so that I'd be as 'normal' as possible. A guy that neither eats nor sleeps would draw attention after a while, and the locals are superstitious enough as it is.

Vince and Howard have advised me to keep a weather eye on Susie, who lives with her mom Shelley in a bungalow not far from mine. Her Trouble hasn't activated; but as we all know, it takes emotional distress to set them off. Poor little kid doesn't know she's a walking time bomb, and unfortunately, till it triggers, I can't tell what kind of Trouble it is. Guess I'm not as tight with aether as they thought I was. But it's a learning experience for me too, guys.

"Where are we?" Duke asked Howard after Shelley and Susie had gone. He surveyed the other man's clothing. Howard had gone from a suit and tie to khakis and a loose white shirt.

"I would look conspicuous on the beach in my other attire," he told Duke.

"Are you going to be able to read my mind all the time, because that's just creepy," Duke retorted.

"Not all the time," Howard stated. "I can only do that when I am in close proximity to you. As I said, you are an independent soul—we don't have control over you."

"Well, that's a relief," Duke grumbled.

"And in answer to your earlier question, we are in Isla de Jean Batiste, Panama," Howard informed him.

Duke gazed around them.

"I thought this was somewhere near the Caribbean," he replied. "So what do I do now?"

"Let's walk," Howard gestured, and he and Duke started off down a path that led through the tropical foliage.

"As you just saw, you can see who has been Troubled," Howard began. "Can you see who's doing it?"

Duke closed his eyes a moment, and then shook his head.

"No, sorry," he muttered.

"Just as I thought; Susan Marbury's Trouble was issued some time ago," Howard replied. "If it had been done within the last day or two, you most likely could tell who had inflicted it; that is, unless they are blocking you."

"Why would they block me? Nobody knows I exist anymore, right?" Duke asked. "As far as anyone knows, Duke Crocker died and was buried at sea," he went on, thinking on the obituary he'd looked up in The Haven Herald, now temporarily being run by a couple of Guard members.

Must have been the happiest day of their lives to put my obit in there, he thought to himself. The last of the Crockers buys the farm.

"As I said, there are others with ill intent bent on using aether to be destructive," Howard said. "This is an ideal testing ground," he continued, glancing around them. "It's an island with a small population, somewhat insulated against the outside world."

"To start out with small Troubles that could look like behavioral disorders or tropical diseases," Duke guessed, and then wondered how he'd known that.

"All part of your programming," Howard said, and Duke glared at him.

"Please—even if you can read what's going through my mind, will you at least wait until I ask it?" he asked, exasperated. "What else am I 'programmed' to do?"

"It isn't like what you think, Duke," Howard said a little gentler. "We gave you the knowledge that we've gained about aether, so that you will know what to do. We are not going to make the same mistakes as we did with Mara. You're going in with your eyes wide open. And as far as programming goes, we made it so that you were as much like your old self as you ever were," he went on. "You will still feel human urges—hunger, thirst, sleep."

Duke deliberately kept any other 'human' urges out of his mind, and then asked "Why?"

"Because you will need to appear as normal as possible," Howard told him. "People will begin to ask questions if you're not seen eating or needing rest."

"That sounds reasonable," Duke ceded. "So what do I do now?"

"First, you need to try to settle in with the people," Howard said. "I would take up Miss Marbury's suggestion about employment at the hotel. I happen to know that the owner is looking for someone to run a charter boat for fishing excursions. You should fill that niche nicely."

"You want me to be a charter boat captain?" Duke asked.

"It will also enable you to get closer to Miss Marbury and to Susan. Troubles are triggered by emotional distress."

"Well, can't I just pull the aether out of her before her Trouble starts?" Duke questioned. "It would be easier."

"Unfortunately, we have no idea what kind of effect it would have on the child. As you're—inexperienced, and she's very young, we are going to have to wait until the Trouble manifests."

"It takes emotional trauma to trigger a Trouble," Duke said. "I'm not traumatizing a little kid just so I can take her Trouble away."

"You won't have to," Howard answered. "I imagine it will manifest itself soon enough. But you need to keep your eyes open. If they've Troubled a child, they won't have any compunction about Troubling anyone else."

"William once Troubled a four-month-old baby," Duke murmured. "I had to—kill his dad to take it away." He gasped, remembering. "You don't think it could be him, do you?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"As far as we know, William is still back in my world," Howard said. "But that does not necessarily rule him out either. He could have drafted others to go along with his plans."

"That guy's a psycho," Duke growled. "Because of what he did to baby Aaron, I had to get my own Trouble back so I could take his away," he finished, crowding away painful memories of that terrible day at when he'd had to kill Gloria's stepson; that horrible day at the lighthouse when Jennifer died.

Howard put a hand on his shoulder, as if he understood.

"That is the reason we chose you, Duke," he said, his tone compassionate. "You understand the importance of not letting this happen to anyone else. Because you know what it is to lose people you love; or to take away someone else's life to save another's."

"I just hope I don't let you guys down," Duke exhaled. "You think you can count on me not to fail?"

"Oh, I think so," Howard answered, walking back towards the beach.

"And why is that?" Duke called after him.

"You won't fail. You're too stubborn to give up, Mr. Crocker," Howard answered, and vanished.

Duke grinned slightly, and then headed back to the beach, and toward The Beachcomber Hotel.

A few hours later, he secured himself in a small bungalow as the newest member of the hotel staff.

Jake McGraw had reminded him so much of an older version of himself it was pathetic. He'd eagerly hired him on as a charter boat captain, his interview consisting of letting Duke take the boat out with him, to see how he handled her, watching as Duke listened to her motor, inspecting the boat from stem to stern, reading over the maintenance manifests.

"By God, you've been around a boat or two," Jake admired.

"I grew up on boats," Duke replied. "I had one myself for a while."

"What'd ya have?"

"A one-ten," Duke replied.

"That's a mighty big boat for a young feller," Jake remarked. "What'd you do?"

"This and that," Duke hedged, and Jake grinned.

"I done a bit of 'this and that' when I was a younger man myself," he grinned. "What was her name?"

"The Ca—"he began, and then realized if Jake went back and looked up The Cape Rouge, he'd find out that her owner had died. That wouldn't look good, so Duke did what he did best—he thought fast on his feet. "The Cicero," he fibbed, using the name of the one-ten that had gone down in a Nor'easter off the coast of Maine.

"What happened to her?" Jake questioned.

"She went down in a Nor'easter last winter," Duke said truthfully. "The owners cut me loose and I've been adrift ever since, working this job and that."

"They held you responsible?" Jake asked, looking him over critically.

"I told them that hull wasn't going to hold up to a big storm, but what did I know," Duke replied. That was true enough, he thought. The Cicero's hull had been breached because of her owners' skinflint ways and improper maintenance; it was nothing short of a miracle that the entire crew had managed to escape with their lives.

"That's what comes from bankers ownin' boats instead a' sailors," Jake commiserated. "Well, if you're looking to drop anchor for a while, you're welcome here," he told him. "I don't think I could find a better Cap'n than I could in you. You've looked Scarlet over like she was your own child," he went on, and stuck his hand out. "The job's yours if you want it, Duke."

"I want it, thank you," Duke beamed, and shook hands with the older man, glancing around the boat. The Scarlet Lady was older and smaller, and a little run-down, but he'd work her over soon enough. The Cape Rouge she wasn't, but she'd be home for now.

He put away the things he'd purchased in town, thinking on the people he'd encountered. They were all friendly enough in that islander way, and had made him feel welcome.

But there had been that lady at the grocery store in front of him, with that burning hand print peeking out from under her sundress. There was the old man with one on his arm as he sat playing chess in the shade of the trees. There was also the woman who ran the local bakery, and the young man who'd come out of the surf with his board, the print glowing brightly on his chest like a neon sign.

Five altogether, Duke thought. I've counted five people who've been Troubled and I've only been here a day, he reflected as he settled into the tub with four fingers of Gentleman Jack. Five people who don't have any idea of what's coming at them; or how many more there'll be tomorrow. I have to find out who's doing this.

Duke hoped that the new day would bring along some answers as he lay down and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he had a charter—a bachelor party for a bunch of snowbirds, Jake had called them. And maybe somewhere along the way, he'd start finding some answers.