DISCLAIMER: The characters are the property of Bellasarius Productions, Vivendi and anyone else involved with Quantum Leap.
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STREET KID
The night was taking away the light and it was time to stop the basketball game. Sam and Al were both winded, but the smiles they wore proved they had the time of their lives. Sam held the ball over his head and looked at his buddy. "So, you ready to admit I play basketball better than you?" Al looked thoughtful. "Hey, come on. You're the brain, you're the gymnast, the actor, the artist. Let me do one thing better than you."
The grin Calavicci wore was big and bright and youthful. "Okay, O'Brien. You are a better basketball player, but I'm going to tell everyone at the seminary that you were beat by a dwarf."
"Dwarf? So you're short. Big deal." Then the seminary remark registered. "Hey, you said seminary. Does that mean you're not going to run away?"
The boys started back toward the building. "I'll let them educate me and then I'll split. Maybe I will learn to fly airplanes. I think I'd like that."
In the background Sam heard the Imaging Chamber door open. "Say, you know how to get back to the apartment, right." Al nodded. "Good. I'll meet you up there. I got to. . ."
St. John piped up, "Check the garbage cans because tomorrow's pickup day."
Sam repeated St. John's words and Al shrugged his shoulders and left. Turning to the hologram Sam excitedly said, "I think we did it. He's not going to run away. He just told me he was going to go to seminary. This is terrific. Why haven't I leaped? Not that I want to, because I'm having great time."
"Let me check." A few pokes at the electronic fruit loops and St. John's face remained stoic. "There's no change, Sam. He's still dies on Thursday."
He was shaking his head vehemently from side to side. "No. He just told me he decided on the seminary." Then a thought hit him, "But he was in summer stock. The little creep was lying. How could he do that to me?"
"Lying has been the only consistent pattern in his entire life. He's very good at it."
"Damn him. Damn him!" With desperate anger Sam took off toward the apartment determined to beat the hell out of the little liar he had just spent the best part of the day with.
He got to the living room and saw Al talking with his parents. "I want to thank both of you for your hospitality tonight. Dinner was terrific and thanks for cleaning my shirt."
Mrs. O'Brien held his hand in both of hers. "You're welcome, Al. Please come back anytime."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Dr. O'Brien looked tired. "I think we need to thank you for helping Joey with his homework. I hope some of your study habits rub off on him."
Sam walked in. "Can I talk to Al alone?"
"Just a few minutes, Joey. I have to get him back to the orphanage. It's getting late."
Grabbing the younger boy's arm, "We got to talk." Al was surprised by the strong arm tactic Sam was using, but he went along with it. When they were behind the closed door of Joey's bedroom Sam pushed Al into the chair. "Okay. Tell me the truth. Are you going to run away tonight? and don't lie to me."
The defense system Al had perfected years earlier threw itself between himself and Joey. "Where do you get off dragging me around?"
"I have to know. You have to promise me you won't run away."
"Why is my education so damn important to you? It hasn't mattered for the two years we've been in school together. Why should it matter now?"
There was nothing else Sam could do. He had to tell young Al of his fears. "Listen, I'm sorry for grabbing you, but I get these premonitions and I'm right a lot of the time. See, if you run away tonight, someone is going to try to hurt you and . . ." He didn't want to go further, but his love for this boy (and for the man he would become) made him. "and you're going to die."
"O'Brien, I'm not going to run away. I promised you that. Secondly, even if I did, I can take care of myself. No one will ever kill me. I don't care if they try to torture me, no one will kill me."
Sam wondered if Al had premonitions of his own. It sounded like he was talking about Vietnam. Where else would he be exposed to torture, but this Al was a 13 year old boy with a highly creative imagination. Taking Al's shoulders in his hands Sam looked his friend in the eye. "You promised me, right? You don't break promises, right?"
"I don't make any promise I don't intend to keep. I do have some values, believe it or not. When I give you my word, you can depend on it." Sam knew that was a true statement. Admiral Al Calavicci was a man who above all things valued the integrity of his word.
"Okay. Thanks." Sam sat on the bed emotionally exhausted. "One more thing."
"Now what?"
"Will you write to me? When I get older, I want to be able to say that I knew you. I think my kids should be able to say their dad once played basketball with a space man."
"You're the space man, Joey. Way out in space, but yeah, I'll write to you. Maybe I can come back and visit every once in awhile. Your folks seem okay. So does your creepy little sister, but I think I'd better get going now. I didn't plan on staying here this late. I think Diana might be waiting at the orphanage and while you may want to remain virginal for that once in a lifetime love, I personally think the idea is highly overrated. I'd better get some while I can, so if you'll excuse me, your dad is waiting to drive me back. Thanks, Joe. I'll write you soon." He held out his hand to Sam and they shook like grownups and then came the obligatory manly slaps on the back. Al walked out of Joey's room and left the apartment with Dr. O'Brien.
Sam prepared himself to leap, but nothing happened. Hearing the Imaging Chamber door again, Sam turned expecting to see Al, but it was still St. John.
"Sam, where's the boy? He's in trouble."
"He still dies?"
St. John was not interested in Sam's questions, only his answers. "Where is he?"
"He just left."
"Damn." St. John was angry now. "Damn!"
"What do you know that I don't?"
"Alpha figured out to a 93 probability that Master Calavicci doesn't run away. He's kidnapped by a ring of snuff films makers."
"Snuff films? What are snuff films?"
"They're pornographic movies where someone is sexually tortured to death, literally to death. That's what Alpha believes happens to him."
"Wouldn't that be in the papers?"
"Not in 1948. It was considered bad taste; therefore the cretins who make these frightful things rarely get prosecuted and even more rarely get sent to prison. The other thing is, he's an orphan, so no one really pushes to find his murderer, but Alpha thinks it knows who the killer is." He looked into Sam's eyes, "Dr. Michael O'Brien."
"Joey's father? Al's with him now."
"It looks like we fouled this one, Sam."
"We haven't blown it yet. Center in on Al and tell me where he is."
"What can you do? You're a child yourself."
"Just center on Al and come back as soon as you can."
St. John blipped out of the room and Sam ran out to Joey's mother. "Mom, where's Dad?"
"He's taking Al back to the orphanage and then he had a call. He's going to the hospital. I doubt he'll be home before one or two o'clock. Sorry, Joey."
"But Al can get home by himself."
"The orphanage is on the way and anyhow, you should have seen Al's eyes when he heard we had a Cadillac." Sam was horrified. His mother kept on talking to him. "You know, Al is a nice boy. I'm surprised that I like him so much. You'll have to ask him over again. He has better manners than your other friends." She saw the distressed look on Sam's face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm going back to my room." Sam was left alone to contemplate the enormity of St. John's findings. Not only was Al going to die, but at the hands of the man Sam introduced him to. Sam was in some way responsible for sending Al to his horrible death. His stomach began to churn when he thought of St. John's definition of a snuff film. How could people consider that entertainment? It was beyond his scope of comprehension and he was a Nobel Prize winning, certified genius. Al had always complained Sam was too book smart and not enough street smart. Sam finally decided he was grateful to have some vestige of naiveté. He paced up and back waiting for St. John.
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Al sat in the front seat of the O'Brien Cadillac. He was enthralled with the big car and with the chauffeur. "You didn't have to do this, Dr. O'Brien."
"It's my pleasure." The doctor looked over at his young passenger. Al caught him looking. "So, you and Joey been friends long?"
"I guess. We both entered St. Patrick's at the same time."
"You're a little younger, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir. I skipped a couple of grades, so I'm two years younger than the other boys."
"Joey seems to think you're about the smartest boy at St. Pat's."
Al started feeling uneasy. There wasn't anything in the conversation that sounded out of the ordinary, but something felt wrong. He knew the streets of lower Manhattan backwards and forwards and this was not the route back to the orphanage he would have picked. "I guess I do okay." He saw the orphanage coming up, but Dr. O'Brien turned the opposite direction. "Sir, you can let me out here. It's only a block from here."
"You know, if you're as bright as Joe says, you might be interested in seeing how a hospital really works. You want to come with me to take care of that emergency?"
Al was getting a little nervous. "No, thank you. I want to go back to the orphanage. Sister Benignus is waiting for me."
"How long have you lived at the orphanage, Al?"
"Off and on since I was seven." The car traveled farther and farther away from Al's sad home. "Sir, you're going the wrong way. The orphanage is the other direction."
"Yes, well, you don't really want to go back there, do you? Your father and mother abandoned you, didn't they."
The car made its way toward South Street and the docks, an area Al knew well enough to stay away from. There were no lights and Dr. O'Brien was running all the stop signs. "Sir, the nuns are waiting for me. I told them I would be back by seven and it's almost eight now. I think you should let me out."
"Not in this neighborhood, Al. It's too dangerous down here by the docks."
"Let me out, Dr. O'Brien. I want to go home." It was the first time in his life that he referred to the orphanage as home.
"We're going to make a little stop first, Al. You don't mind, do you?"
Al was a street kid, so he knew he was in trouble. The thing he had to do now was figure how to get out of it. His heart was beating so fast he could almost hear it. The alley was completely dark. Al saw it as his opportunity. He tried to open the car door, but O'Brien reached over and grabbed his collar pulling the boy next to him. "Now, what was that all about?"
"Leave me alone. I swear I'll kill you."
O'Brien laughed. "Kill me? We're going to make a stop for a few minutes. You can go back to the orphanage right after we meet some of friends of mine."
"Please, Dr. O'Brien. Let me go. I won't say anything. I promise."
"Then stop talking now. I don't want to hear you say anything. Understand?" Al nodded. "You are bright, aren't you?"
The car continued weaving its way through alleys and back streets. Dr. O'Brien put his arm around Al. He tried to push the offender away, but O'Brien was strong and obviously had practice keeping unsuspecting street kids in his car, "Come on, Dr. O'Brien. I'm more trouble than I'm worth. You don't want me."
"We just have one little stop to make." He pulled in front of a garage door and honked the horn, "Here we are." Al said a real prayer for the first time in years. Inside the garage, two men met the car. They moved toward opposite doors barring any possible escape route. One man opened a door and even though every exit was blocked, Al made an attempt at running. The other new man caught him easily and held the slender boy as O'Brien opened a bottle, poured some liquid on a cloth and covered Al's face. In a few seconds, the boy was unconscious. "Get the little bastard inside."
The man who caught Al picked him up. A door was opened and they all disappeared through it. No one saw a thing except St. John who had finally centered on Al as he was being chloroformed. The observer whispered into the handlink. "Alpha, get this address and then center me on Sam."