Chapter Three
Two-thirty p.m., noted Kitt. I feel like one of those dreadful coo-coo clocks that have nothing better to do than recite the time. It's been nearly an hour since Michael and Jake disappeared into Dora's diner, what could be taking them so long? he wondered.
Just then Kitt's scanner picked up some muffled sounds coming from the direction of Dora's diner.
A rusty door creaked slowly open and the familiar sounds of Michael's laughter tumbled toward Kitt. Kitt was anxious for Michael to return to him. He felt like a lost puppy missing his owner. Have I sunk that low? Kitt wondered.
Michael, Jake and an adorably sweet-looking, gray-haired old lady were slowly approaching Kitt. This must be Dora, Kitt concluded. My, she has such an honest looking face, he thought. I bet she could sell mud-pies masquerading as chocolate chip cookies, he observed.
"Thanks a lot, Dora. That was the best home-cookin' I've had in ages!" chuckled Michael. He bent down to lightly embrace her.
"Remember, Michael, Cleon is a little hard of hearing in his left ear, so be sure to holler when you see him. I can't imagine what he will say when he sees you again. I'm sure he'll pop his shirt buttons with pride when he sees you after all these years," commented Jake.
"We'll see you for this evening's barbecue, right?" asked Dora. She was positively beaming with joy.
Jake put his arm around Dora's shoulders. "We'll see if Cleon will be up for a game of horse-shoes, eh Michael?" he chortled.
"If not, we'll threaten to whisper until he is!" suggested Michael, with a gleam of mischief in his eye.
Michael opened Kitt's driver's side door and slid right into position in one easy motion.
"Ah, Kitt, its great to be here, isn't it?" Michael asked with a contented distant look in his eyes. He was deep in a world of his own that did not seem to include Kitt.
"Michael," Kitt said firmly, "I'm afraid I am still not informed as to where 'here' is. For that matter, is Jakes' Pit Stop Gas 'n Go and Dora's Homestyle Eats Diner the adventurous vacation you spoke of earlier?"
Michael sat silently as he turned on the engine and guided Kitt back onto the main road heading toward the traffic light at another intersection.
This is odd, thought Kitt, why would such a deserted area require a traffic light?
The light immediately went completely dark. Michael slowed Kitt down to a crawl to observe which color the light was going to be when it relit. However, the light remained off. When Michael reached it, he stopped at the intersection and looked carefully around.
Kitt immediately detected a strange buzzing sound and began scanning the area to determine the source of the buzzing.
"Michael, there is a buzzing sound. Can you hear it?" Kitt asked.
Michael stared at Kitt's dashboard in disbelief. He blinked his eyes and rubbed them as if trying to remove a particle of dirt or eyelash embedded within. He was unaware that Kitt had spoken to him.
Kitt grew more concerned as Michael continued to rub his eyes more frantically, determined to remove whatever it was that was irritating his eyes.
Kitt heard the buzzing sound intensify and shifted into auto-cruise operation. He immediately sped forward on the main road, away from the traffic light operating in pursuit mode traveling at 100 miles per hour. As he raced away from the light, he noticed that it was not 'out' at all, but in fact fully lit. Instead of the usual green signal, there was an odd 'black one' in its place. The black signal was lit with an oversized, bulging, round black 'light bulb'. How curious, commented Kitt.
"Michael, are you okay?" Kitt asked as he slowed down his speed to a respectable 40 miles per hour.
"Kitt," Michael said breathlessly covering his eyes with both his hands. He had stopped rubbing his eyes, but dared not to open them. "Last Stand Inn is on this road," Michael said. He coughed his words out between gasps for air.
Using his dashboard scanning equipment, Kitt scanned Michael's body for his current medical condition and status of Michael's vital signs. The medical scan showed Michael's condition to be healthy, normal and even 'thriving'. However, both of Michael's eyes were red and irritated, but not injured. His brainwave patterns were unusually slow, in fact, extremely slow, emitting the delta waves of 3.2 cycles per second; the deepest level of sleep. Michael was fast asleep in the span of time it takes a person to flip a light switch.
Kitt wondered how long Michael would be asleep. He knew Michael could not possibly be woken up in this deep stage of sleep. Michael's brainwave patterns would have to be at least theta waves (above 3.5 to 7 cycles per second) or higher. Kitt's computer files reported that an awake and relaxed person would generate alpha waves of a consistent 10 cycles per second whereas an alert person would generate beta waves of twice that. Kitt decided to continue to monitor Michael's brainwaves and proceed to the Last Stand Inn down the road and re-evaluate things there.
As Kitt approached the Inn, Michael's brainwaves began to suddenly accelerate. Michael woke up abruptly and bolted upright with his eyes wide- open and dilated.
"Ow!" Michael yelled, covering his eyes.
"Michael, speak to me!" screamed Kitt.
Michael calmly removed his hands from his face and took hold of the steering wheel, oblivious to the fact that Kitt was maneuvering the car and not he.
"Michael?" asked Kitt.
Michael smiled broadly. His eyes were no longer dilated and his brainwaves were normal for a fully alert person.
"Kitt, aren't Dora and Jake great?" he asked, unaware of all that had just transpired.
"Michael, are you feeling all right?" Kitt queried cautiously.
"Sure Kitt, I'm feeling terrific! There's nothing like a vacation is there?" he said joyfully glancing at the passing scenery.
"Michael, are you aware that you just woke up from a nearly comatose state?" Kitt asked.
Michael began to examine Kitt's dash board, but stopped, believing Kitt was trying to pull something over on him. "Okay, pal, what's the joke? I'm not going to fall for it this time, 'ol buddy."
"Michael, I am not joking," Kitt explained. "First, we stopped at a black light, you screamed and covered your eyes and then passed out in a near comatose deep sleep. In less than 10 minutes you emerged from that state to your current condition: awake and alert."
"Kitt, I sure am glad you are learning to loosen up!" laughed Michael. "I was beginning to think this vacation was going to be a drag with your complaints."
"Complaints?" Kitt asked. "All I did was ask for some information about what we are doing here. You haven't told me anything Michael and I feel somewhat like the odd man out."
"Oh, Kitt," apologized Michael, "I'm sorry. Don't you see? There isn't anything to tell you. A vacation is a break or time of rest, relaxation and activities away and different from the regular work. Everything we do in our regular work day demands constant searching for information, detailed planning, careful scrutiny and precise actions. We have this time to not search, not plan, and not scrutinize. We should just take it moment by moment, enjoying and trying new things. This is the perfect place to do that. We can be ourselves here. Haven't you noticed that this area is nearly deserted? You can do almost anything you want here because there won't be anyone to see. This town has less people than a poker game on a good night!"
"Michael, that is not entirely accurate," replied Kitt. "The population in this town is indeed lower than most, but it is hardly a mere handful of people. And even if one person, be it Dora or Jake that were to see me turbo- boost or fire lasers at tin cans, there would be difficult questions to answer that could put you in danger."
"Kitt, don't be silly," Michael argued. "We reveal ourselves to everyone who steps into this car, everyone who we help. I'd wager to say that many of the criminals we helped put behind bars know about you and your unusual abilities. You might say you are the Superman of the road! Hey Kitt, I think I'll get you a nice blue cape with a big red and yellow K embroidered in the center of it!"
"Thank you Michael, but I hardly think that will be necessary," answered Kitt.
Kitt surreptitiously scanned Michael's medical condition. Everything registered normal, including his eyes and brainwave activity.
Kitt wasn't sure what to about this situation. Michael obviously didn't want to believe him or leave his precious vacation. What would Michael do if Kitt contacted Devon without Michael's consent? Michael already thought Kitt was a threatening dark rain cloud in Michael's vacation paradise of the Old West. Kitt still could not understand the attraction Michael had for this place. There really must be some strong emotionally charged memories for him to want to be here! thought Kitt.
Kitt noticed a large, brown, boot-shaped sign for Last Stand Inn and Last Stand Amusement Park, and pulled into a conveniently located parking spot. Michael, still unaware that he was not in control of the car, opened the door and stepped out without a second thought.
Out of the car and feeling great, Michael lazily stretched his arms and legs. He turned around taking in the surroundings and nodded with approval.
"This place hasn't changed much in 25 years," Michael said. "Maybe a little updated, but pretty much the same."
The Last Stand Inn looked exactly as Michael had remembered it. It actually felt like he was stepping back in time. For a moment, everything around him blurred together and he felt as if time itself shifted and dissolved into the past. He imagined he was 10 years old again and 'chopping at the bit' to try his hand at some gun fights and panning for gold. He thought he could see his Dad struggling to carry their 5 matching light-blue Samsonite suitcases through the front door of the small, rustic looking cabin. Right about now, Michael's mom would be filling out the room registration and collecting brochures of all the local sites. He could smell the familiar sweet scent of his mom's favorite perfume.
Michael closed his eyes and took a long deep breath. He felt every muscle in his body relax. If Kitt could feel like Michael did now, he would know the pure meaning of the word 'vacation', thought Michael. He smiled to himself and turned to speak to Kitt, but he was not where Michael had left him!
Michael was confused. Where would Kitt go? he wondered. No matter. Maybe he needed a shadier area, he thought. I'm gonna go and check this place out, he said.
As he approached the cabin's front door, he nearly slipped. Glancing down, he saw a small, shiny yellow stone. He bent and picked it up, smiling. "My first piece of gold," he announced boldly and placed it in his pants pocket.
Inside the cabin, Michael approached the registration desk and signed the registration book. He looked around for the clerk, but there was no sign of him. I can't wait to see Cleon again, he thought, and slowly meandered about the cabin's front room, not looking at anything in particular.
A tall man with dark, curly hair entered the cabin. He was a man in his mid- 40's dressed in faded blue-jeans and red tee-shirt. He walked up to the registration desk and began sorting through papers, unaware of Michael's presence.
"Cleon? Cleon McGafferty?" Michael called.
The man continued his work, undisturbed.
Michael moved closer and spoke louder this time, "Cleon McGafferty?" he called.
Cleon still remained totally absorbed in his work. Michael walked past the registration desk and stood behind Cleon. Leaning forward, he spoke directly into Cleon's right ear. "Cleon McGafferty?" he asked.
This time the man reacted. He was so startled by Michael's presence that he jumped and nearly fell over! He caught his balance before it was too late.
"Who are you?" Cleon managed to say, trying to catch his breath.
Michael smiled and offered his hand. "My name is Michael. Are you Cleon, Cleon McGafferty?" he asked hopefully. Michael was sure that if this man was not Cleon he would have a lot of explaining to do. Possibly from a jail cell if this guy has a heart attack right here and now, he worried.
Cleon caught his breath and nodded. "I am, at least I was up until now! That is, if I live!" he replied teasingly.
Michael was relieved. He stepped back and pointed to the registration book. "I already signed in," he said feeling a little foolish for scaring the man out of his wits.
Cleon glanced down at Michael's signature in the registration book. "You alone?" he asked with surprise.
Michael smiled and casually stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His hand touched the yellow stone he had tucked in his pocket earlier.
"Found this on the way in," Michael said, removing the stone from his pocket for Cleon to see. "Perhaps we can have some target practice with it later on," he suggested with a twinkle in his eye.
Cleon, who was completing the room information in the registration book, froze. Target practice? he thought. Puzzled, he glanced up at Michael. "We don't use those stones for target practice. You looking for a shooting range?" he asked.
Michael smiled broadly, "Nope, there is no challenge at the shooting range, Cleon," Michael answered. "I learned a long time ago that the best training ground is a natural training ground. McGafferty Rule number one: If you shoot at paper targets therein will your trophies lie, but he who shoots a pebble in the sand, can capture a star in the sky."
Cleon eyed Michael suspiciously. Slowly he turned and carefully removed a wooden plaque from the wall behind him. He handed it to Michael.
Michael immediately recognized it as the wooden plaque he had prepared for Cleon years ago. Cleon had taught Michael how to burn letters into wood and this was Michael's parting gift to Cleon. Michael lightly ran his fingers over the engraved letters he had so painstakingly burned into this scrap piece of wood. It read, "He who shoots a pebble in the sand can capture a star in the sky". Michael turned to the back of the plaque. On the back of the plaque was a smaller engraving that read, "to Cleon from Michael Long".
"It's great to see you again," said Michael as he handed the plaque back to Cleon.
Cleon took the plaque from Michael and returned it to its place on the wall behind him. He had this unsettled feeling that something wasn't right. Was this indeed 'Michael Long,' the 10 year old boy he had taken such a shine to 25 years ago? He just wasn't sure. The young boy he remembered was short, had a very wide face, chubby cheeks and a small red scar on his chin. The man before him now was tall, slender, had a long finely chiseled handsome face and no red scar. In fact, he did not resemble the young Michael at all.
Cleon smiled politely at Michael, but said nothing. It was then that he noticed that Michael's signature in the registration book, read "Michael Knight". He quickly looked up and pointed to the signature in registration book.
"Cleon, it's me, Michael Long," Michael began, "At least that is how you would remember me. When I was 10 years old, I came here on vacation with my parents. You introduced and instructed me in the basic skills of expert marksmanship. I became a police officer because of you. The time I spent here with you inspired me to use those skills to help protect the innocent. I am what I am today because of you, Cleon and I want to thank you for it."
Cleon was touched. He went over to Michael and threw his arms around him. "There hasn't been another 'Longshot' here since you, Michael!" he said with tears in his eyes. The young boy he had nicknamed 'Longshot' because of his keen eyesight and natural marksmanship ability had become an officer of the law! Cleon was pleased.
"You were a natural, son!" Cleon said as the slapped Michael on the back. "There wasn't a tin can or pebble you couldn't hit! I'm not surprised you became an officer of the law! What's with the name "Knight"? Are you working undercover or something?" he asked excitedly.
"Not exactly, but it is my name now," Michael explained. "It's kinda a long story. How about showing me around the place?" he asked.
Cleon nodded and led Michael outside to the Last Stand Amusement Park.