Chapter 10:

Mark Shermin's office was bright. The walls were wooden, and so was the floor. Sports memorabilia decorated the entire space. Most of it was basketball, but some baseball was thrown in there too. And Mark sat back in a large, black office chair with his feet propped up on a small, wooden desk. He twirled his watch, a silver Rolex around and around on his wrist, and a cigar wrapped in plastic rested on his lap.

A knock on the open office door broke him from his thoughts. He looked up to see a man standing there. It was the same man that had opened fire on Tina's car and the same man that had dragged Tina out of the rest stop. His name was Thomas, and Mark had known him for almost ten years now. The man was military. Well, he was, but the private sector had seduced him to its dark side. As far as the world knew, they didn't exist, but the government did. And they weren't happy with them, and to a degree, Thomas still felt some loyalty to them. Mark didn't.

"You going to smoke that," Thomas asked, gesturing toward the cigar on Mark's lap.

"I haven't smoked a cigar in about thirty years," and Mark tossed the cigar onto his desk. "I might smoke this one, if I were to see something like I did back then."

"You're talking about the alien," and Thomas sat in a small, black chair near Mark's desk. "Are you sure about him?"

"He's a kid," Mark responded.

"He's dangerous."

"Yeah. You said that before."

"And I'll keep saying it. He is dangerous, and he's not in control of himself."

"I know. That's why I agreed to keep him sedated. Is the safe house set up yet?"

"Yeah, but why don't we just hand him over, Mark? Let the government have him. You've protected him long enough, but it's time. It's time, Mark."

"They'll kill him."

"I know," and he held Mark's gaze. "It might be better for all of us, if that happened."

"You ever read Ray Bradbury," and he watched Thomas shake his head. "Well, Ray Bradbury had written this short story called, Zero Hour, and in this story, these kids are playing with what they thought was an imaginary friend. What they were really doing was helping aliens invade our world, and in the end, the aliens won. And you have to wonder. Did those kids really mean to help the aliens, or did they just think that it was a game? Even when this kid led the aliens right to their parents, who were hiding upstairs in their house, did this kid realize what was about to happen? Or were they just pawns? Is Scott just a pawn, caught up in some vicious game, or is he a threat, one that could destroy our world?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Mark, especially if he is going to Winslow, Arizona to meet them. I mean why now? Why after thirty years are they coming back here? Maybe, to invade? Maybe, he's the key to their invasion? I say that we put a bullet in his head before that happens," Thomas said.

Mark was about to respond when a woman appeared at his door wearing a white lab coat and holding a manila folder in her hands. She looked from him to Thomas, noting the seriousness of their conversation. She looked down at the manila folder, and then she looked up at Mark. The look on her face held importance, and she inched into the room as Thomas looked over at her.

"That his lab work," Mark asked, and the woman nodded in response. "How bad is it?"

"See for yourself," and she hurried over to Mark, placing the folder in his hands. Then, she exited the room.

Mark stood up and opened the manila folder. He looked down at the lab work and fell into his chair. He gingerly played with his watch for a moment. Then, he looked over at Thomas, who remained sitting rigid, waiting for a response. "Don't worry about the invasion," Mark finally said. "They're not coming to take our world. They're coming for him," and he tossed the folder over to Thomas. "You got your wish," and he hurried out of the room.

Thomas opened the folder and looked inside. "Shit," he muttered. "I should have just killed him."

Mark's office was across from where they were keeping Scott. He paused by another closed room, listening to the banging on the other side. Tina was definitely a fireball, one that would not be silenced unless of course, he gave her the same drugs that he was giving to Scott, but Tina wasn't a threat. If she calmed down, he could speak reasonably to her, but she was still banging away on that door. And she was screaming to be let out.

"Sir," a guard stationed outside Scott's room asked him. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah. Let me in, and don't worry about closing the door behind me."

"Sir," the guard said again.

"Go get the girl, please, and bring her in here."

"Yes, sir," and the guard moved past him.

"Sir," Mark snorted as he walked inside. "Oh, Scott," he muttered as he stared at the unconscious man still strapped to his bed. "I'm sorry," and he walked over to him. "I really am," and he undid the restraints wrapped around Scott's wrists and ankles.

Suddenly, Scott grabbed him by the arm. His fingers slid down, brushing against his watch. Then, Mark watched Scott's hand fall back onto the bed. He was still too weak, and now he knew why. And Mark sat beside him, taking Scott's hand into his, and giving him a soft squeeze. He was about to say something when Tina flew into the room and raced toward him, but the guard grabbed her by the arms.

"Let her go," Mark said as he moved away from the bed, and he watched Tina hurry over to Scott.

"What did you do to him," she screamed at Mark. "What did you do?"

"We drugged him, of course."

Tina moved toward him, but now Scott grabbed her by the arm. He tried to shake his head, but he was still too weak. Most of his body felt numb. He tried to sit up, and Tina helped him. But then he fell against her like a helpless doll.

"Monsters. You're a monster," Tina screamed at Mark.

"Will you please stop screaming at me?"

"No," Tina said.

"We're letting him go. We're letting you go."

"Sir," the guard behind him asked.

"Get out," Mark snapped at him, and the guard hurried out of the room. Then, Mark noticed Thomas standing by the door with the folder in his hands. "Thomas?"

"You want to tell him, or should I?"

"Tell him what," Tina asked. "What's going on?"

"We ran tests on Scott," Mark said.

"Of course, you did," Tina snapped at him.

"What were the results," Scott asked, and everyone looked at him. "What's wrong with me?"

Mark drew in a deep breath. He looked over at Thomas, who slowly nodded back at him. Mark then nodded, knowing that he had to be the one to tell Scott, and he looked over at Tina, whose eyes filled with tears. She already knew, and she looked at Scott, who was still in her arms. "I'm sorry, Scott," Mark finally said. "You're dying."

"What," Scott said. "I was fine until the bar. How could I be dying?"

"They ran your blood work twice, Scott. You can see the results for yourself," but Mark watched Scott shake his head. "Do you know why you have to go to Winslow, Arizona?"

"No," Scott cried. "No."

"Because you're going home," and Scott and Tina looked up at Mark. "They're coming to take you home, Scott, and I'm going to help you get there."

"How long does he have," Tina asked, trying to keep the tears from falling but failing miserably.

"Two, maybe three days. I'm sorry."

The same woman from before walked into the room, holding a syringe. She looked over at Thomas and Mark. Her gaze rested for a moment on Tina, and then she focused on Scott. She stepped toward him, but Tina pulled Scott closer to her. And the woman turned toward Mark.

"It's a booster. Some vitamins and minerals to help Scott. It's a long drive, and he's got to make it. Tina, look at him. If he doesn't get this shot, he won't make it," and Tina looked at Scott, knowing that Mark was right. "He's too weak. He's vulnerable, and he's still being hunted."

"Hunted," Scott asked.

"The military wants you dead, Scott, and if you're in this state, you're an easy target. Let her give you the shot. Then, we can leave."

"Why don't you want him dead," Tina asked Mark.

"If I wanted him dead, I would never have helped his mother escape, especially when I found out that she was pregnant with him, and trust me when I say that what I did cost me everything. It was just chance that saved me later, and that chance is now giving me an opportunity to save him."

"Give me the shot," Scott said. "He's calling me. I can hear him."

"Who, Scott? Who's calling you?"

"My father," Scott said as he looked at Mark, and then he flinched as the woman stuck him with the needle.

Mark's mouth fell open. He glanced down at the silver Rolex on his wrist. The watch had been dead for years. Nobody was ever able to fix it, but as he stared down at it, the hands started to move. He then remembered that Scott had touched his watch. He looked at Scott, but Scott had passed out again. If they didn't leave now, that poor kid would never make it to Winslow, Arizona, and Mark Shermin would be damned to let that happen.