CHAPTER TWO---GO WHERE YOU WANT TO GO, DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO
A few days pass. Rollin still does not speak to anyone except Quince.
Quince begins to train him in use of his special powers including jaunting, telekinesis, and telepathy. Rollin picks up on each rather quickly. Quince was puzzled and when alone with TIM in the antique room where TIM had another major construct to himself, Quince asked, "TIM, he seems like a regular, average Tomorrow Person -- adept at everything, us Tomorrow People can do, but without any extra, newer powers."
"And?"
"Well, why was his break out so.. so unusual?"
TIM answered, "That is something I believe is open for conjecture and I believe John is contacting Timus to ask just that question."
Rollin came into the TIM room, "Who're you talkin' to?"
"Oh, I haven't introduced you to TIM," Quince smiled.
Rollin almost ran out of the room, "No more people."
Quince pulled Rollin's forearm, "TIM's not people."
TIM lit up as he replied, "Thank you, Quincy, I think."
Rollin laughed, "What is it?"
"I am a he," TIM said defensively.
"Are you sure?" Rollin laughed.
"Well...uhmm? Yes. yes, I am."
Rollin said, "Just kidding. Hello TIm. What're you?"
TIM went into a lengthy explanation of his bio-mechanical fluids and structure attempting to outthink Rollin. Rollin nodded and understood it. "Do you understand?"
Rollin nodded, "Yes, I think so. Glad to meet you TIm."
Quince looked up, "He can teach you a lot of things I couldn't."
Rollin rubbed his hands together, "Good, can we start now?"
"I can't see why not. I didn't think you'd like me."
"Well, I do. Oh I put everybody off that way. I was just kidding you, TIM." ROllin looked up fondly.
Quince moved for the door, trying not to show relief that the boy had befriended someone else--relieving him of so much to do with him, "I'm going to see if my father is here yet."
"Okay," Rollin sat a table, never taking his eyes off TIm, "TIM, you're wonderful! Amazing!"
"Please, Rollin, I'll get a swelled --information retrieval unit."
TIM began the first of many studies with ROllin, teaching him about the Trig, outer space, Overmind, and much more. He also taught Rollin about his powers. Over six days when Rollin was not with TIM or Quince or both, he was in John and Heather's huge library, reading.
John was hosting a small complement of Tomorrow People. Quince stopped at the door, unnoticed by any of them. Inside, around a table. facing large doorsized windows were Rick Jasper, Richie Williams, Peter Wilson, and his own father--Mike Bell. Rick sat dousing a Marlboro in an ashtray. The brown haired, blue eyed, medium built, 18 year old male made Quince uneasy. He didn't seem like a Tomorrow Person at all. Although Rick had a hard, stern face, it also had a soft, warm quality which could put people at ease. Rick had huge, hairy eyebrows. Rick made Quince think of Rollin. Rick had been living on the streets of New York and had been struggling to give it up, even after he broke out. Peter Wilson had a similar background, except he was more of a con artist but had given that up a long time ago. Quince wondered how he had survived on the streets. This blue eyed, black haired teen was one year older than Rick and had been a Tomorrow Person two years longer than Rick. Peter had a much more friendly, open face. Obviously both had heard about where Rollin was found--near 42nd Street--and both had taken a vested interest. They wanted to help--or had they had other reasons ? Quince fought that thought back. His own father had been a streetwise kid but did not work as a male prostitute, turning tricks. He wondered exactly what that meant and if Rollin had been one also. Richie Williams was here because he had been abused--raped by a road crew member--Hank, another male. This all but shattered his then current life but he seemed to be managing well now. Seemed to be. Dark blonde hair and blue eyes, in his twenties, Richie was a musical genius. Perhaps he had wanted to use his music to ease Rollin's doubts somehow. Quince didn't mean to easedrop but he didn't want to interupt. Sunshine rode in from the windows which gave a magnificient view of the adjacent mountain range.
John told them, "He hasn't talked to any of us yet besides Quincy."
Wilson nodded, "It sounds ..familiar. We're more interested, John, in finding out if he's had difficulty with his...past."
Rick puffed out smoke and lit up another cigarette. Quince wondered if he really smoked that much or if he was recalling his own past street life of humiliating horror--and it was making him smoke more to deal with the tension. OR was Rick ashamed that he had enjoyed that street life--a life Quince wanted to prove that he knew all about but he really didn't know a lot of what went on on the streets beyond the minor trouble rousing he and his local cronies in the East End of London had gotten into. These problems were worse. Rick murmured, "We all heard where he was found. We wanted to let him know he's not alone...that we've been through it, too."
Richie shuddered visibly, "Worse."
John stood near a wall away from Rick's smoke. Quince noted that even his father strayed as far from Rick as possible. Smoke...mainly cigarette smoke never had a good effect on their psi-powers. "I wish I could fill you in on that. However, after three and a half days I know nothing about him. Makes me leery though, having him all over the house when he can't be trusted really. I mean he may be using us...learning all he can so that he can do ill."
Mike smiled, "You thought that about me once, too."
John nodded, "Bud that was different. Well. maybe not. But still what am I going to do with him? He can stay here but how long? And what are his motives? He knows everything about us -- what'd we know about him?"
"He's 13, his name is Rollin," Quince said by the door.
Mike began to scold, gently, "Quince, hello, son, you shouldn't..."
John glared at Mike to be quiet, sensing an uncanny flow of info coming from Quincy and motioned with his hand for Mike and the others to be quiet. Quince kept going, "He ran away from his mother--or a lady he thought was his mother when he was eight. He can't remember her name though. Almost immediately he began being sheltered by someone he refers to only as "boss". He also says he has been living on the streets but what it means I don't know yet. Whats all I've been able to learn and only recently has he trusted me enough to give me permission to share all this with you."
"You're right Peter," Mike said. He moved to Quince's side and put an arm to Quince's back, "I'm proud of you, son. You've done a great job."
Quince felt he would never get used to this virtual stranger calling him "son" and could hardly think about calling Mike "dad" or "father". In a way he held it against Mike that he had been gone for so many years--and there was little age difference between them. Mike and Quince's mom had conceived him when they were but 14 years old. Quince wondered if he could forgive both his parents for that, too.
John sat at the table, coughing as Rick put out a cigarette. "Ugghmm, maybe I should have a word with him--you know try again."
Quince nodded no. "Not yet, John. Wait, please wait. Whatever Rollin had been through it was something he despised, hated, even hates himself for..."
Wilson cut in, "Did he tell you that?"
"Not in so many words," Quince shrugged, squinting his eyes, "Its something I just--I dunno---I just feel. One thing what's for sure--he doesn't want to talk about it all at once. To reveal even small amounts of it causes him pain---almost a physical pain."
John bit his lip, "Never the less we have to know what went on."
Rick took his feet off the table leg, "Quince is right, Fairchild, to push him now is wrong. Let Quince..."
"And TIM," Quince said, "He's really opened up faster to TIM." Quince was enjoying this rare opportunity for attention but he had to give TIM his proper credit.
Rick smiled at Quince, then caught Mike's watchful eye and looked away. Even a smile at a boy would herald unfound, unstated accusations. Perhaps, Rick thought, I deserve it. "Let them befriend him," Rick managed anyway. "If he's like I was--he's not going to be easy. I mean he'll be opposed to all and any authority over him."
John gulps, "But that makes it all the more reason we should find out what's going on in that mind of his. But--I will wait."
Mike asked, "John, can I stay here?"
"Yes, of course," John said, "I'd like all three of you to, too. I think maybe soon you can tell him about what happened to each of you." RIchie squirmed in his seat. He hadn't counted on having to do that--just in helping in any way he could. How telling him about male to male rape could help--Richie began to understand as he thought about this."Oh, now I get it," he thought. He badly wanted an excuse to jaunt away but had none. And he couldn't lie.
Wilson looked, "One suggestion--don't badger him. Don't crowd him. Quince, you and TIM throw some hints to our experiences. And ask him if he wants to talk to you about anything. Don't be specific."
"Okay," Quince shook his head and shoulders.
"In the meantime go about your business," John said. "If you bump into him--try then, if you think in your judgement that that particular moment is right." Everyone nodded and the meeting began to break up, all in quiet and private thought about all this. Mike remained behind.
Mike went to his son, "You go check on him. I'll talk to John some more and catch you up later." Quince nodded and left. Mike went to John, "What do you think?"
"I've got a bad feeling about this," John said, "As soon as TIM had cleared the recption and installed those heavy duty relays to the Trig, I want to talk to Timus about this Rollin Doe."
Richie was being shown the rooms he could use as a bedroom by Heather and Amanda, who already put Rick and Wilson into two other rooms. Heather and Amanda noted that Richie took a room as far from the other two as possible. Heather was questioned by Amanda as soon as they were alone as to why. Heather never lied to her daughter and told her that Richie was finding it difficult to be around people who had a history on the streets.
Richie was uncomfortable around the other two and did not fully know why.
That night as Heather went to put out the night light so she and John could sleep, her husband stopped her. "I want to talk to you. Is it safe for the kids?"
"Safe? What--being special? As safe as it is for us," Heather avoided the conversation.
"You KNOW what I mean."
Heather eased herself up on her pillow, "I'm afraid not."
"Well, Amanda is here now--with this strange boy about."
"Oh, we can protect her from him. And TIM will alert us if he does anything."
"Unless he does something to TIM."
"John," Heather had a look in her eyes whoch mocked his nervousness, "Really, you're such a worrier."
"Then there's Peter and Rick. ANd Richie. How will they and their problems effect her if they're here so much?"
"John, now I'm surprized at you. Judgementalness does not look good on you. Speaking of which--and I know we're about to have a rip, roaring arguement..."
"Discussion," corrected John.
"You might try your hardest to throw a few nice comments Jeb's way."
John flustered and laid back, "I don't think that's possible."
Heather leaned close to his ear, "Have you ever thought how that grudge bearing attitude may effect your daughter." She put her head down on her pillow and closed her eyes.
John could no longer close his eyes. "Touche."
Heather sat up on her side and leaned on her elbows in order to kiss John on the mouth. "Goodnight."
John responded in kind, "I'll try. I really will."
The sun had barely risen up over the mountains while Peter Wilson and Rick were under a sky-window in a main living room of Aerie the next morning. The two aimed a telescope of John's up to focus heavenward. John, now also dressed, kissed Heather goodbye and jaunted from a good breakfast to the satillite that the Tomorrow People christened FUTURE ONE. Heather, in her robe, enjoying a day off, held both her new babies. They were about to be fed. Quince administered tests to Rollin as they both sat on his bed in his room. Rollin spooned Coco Puffs and ate them, crunching in between verbal responses to Quince. Rollin still wore the same clothes he had when he broke out. Luckily Heather was allowed to wash them during Rollin's third day. Richie was working on a song at the piano in another room. Only Mike slept, his open mouth pointed at the ceiling, snoring sounds issuing from it. Quince looked at Rollin who also watched cartoons on the TV to the right of the posh bed. Quince laughed, "I don't know how valid these IQ tests will be but we're finished. I'll go give them to Heather." He walked out, Rollin's eyes following.
As soon as Quince was gone, Rollin put his dish on the floor and sprang up. Now was the time to scratch the itch. TIM was busy coordinating with his other bodies on a radiowave project. He would not notice Rollin's movements. Rollin snuck out, past Wilson, Rick, and Quince.
Quince asked the older boys, "What're you doin'?"
"Trying to see Jupiter," Rick said, "I've never looked through one of these--and for the time its taking I'm not sure I want to." No one noticed Rollin against the far wall, then he was gone.
Wilson adjusted the lens, "Keep patient."
Quince said, "You know for a street kid, Rollin takes a lot of showers--he's very clean. Five or six a day."
Wilson caught Quince's words and gazed to Rick, who was chewing smokers' gum. Wison telepathed to him, "Not a good sign."
Rick teled back, "He's trying to wash away the filthy life he once had."
Quince, not overhearing this, left, "I better get these to Heather."
Wilson stood from working on the telescope,"Rick, I'm concerned that kid's going to need alot of help--fast."
Rick shrugged, "Until he makes the first move..."
Quince walked into the babies' room while Heather was breast feeding Alvin. He turned away and faced the wall. "Oh, I'm ...I'll come back." Quince, while he would have afforded a peek at the girls on the streets and in his school in the East End of London, could'nt feel the same about someone as nice as Heather Shire Fairchild. He turned Santa Claus red.
Heather smiled delicately, "No, its all right." She stopped and covered herself, "I'm finished."
"Are...are you sure?"
"Quince, give me the tests," Heather smirked.
Slowly the boy turned and awkwardly handed them to her as she put Alvin into the cradle. She took them, "Normally I'd have TIM correct them but since he is so busy..."
"Shouldn't you...get dressed first?"
"Actually I'm anxious to see these," Heather began reading answers, moving to a desk to begin marking. Quince watched.
Rollin entered the hanger area and poked his head up from behind the older glider. Brilliant sunshine flooded in and told Rollin the doors to the outside were open. He saw movement--a large six foot man in gray overalls was working on one of the engine planes. His overalls were covered in black. Rollin realized from TIM's banks that this must be Vinnie Meillio, an Italian freelance mechanic who was hired by John. John had hired him because Vinnie rarely bothered about paperwork and schedules--which could sometimes be irritating---and he was an excellent, honest mechanic who told customers the truth about their vehicles. That Vinnie didn't bother about other items made it even more attractive to hire him: he didn't nose about Tomorrow People business or even move about much within Aerie's other rooms. He loves the hanger because he loves his work and stays there when at Aerie. To him his work was really his hobby. Vinnie, wearing glasses and a thinner beard, was about thirty years old, slightly heavy-set but not overly fat. He had friendly brown eyes and dark wavy hair. He knew nothing about the Tomorrow People and their secrets. John considered telling him sometime in the future but it was not necessary to do so at the present. Rollin wished he could read Vinnie's mind to find out what the situation with John was this morning. Did Vinnie and John talk about this morning's work? What was the use of having mind reading abilities if the only minds you could read were other Tomorrow People? People you could trust--or could he really trust them?
"Yo, Vinnie," Rollin decided to give it a try.
Vinnie didn't hear him, screwing a spark plug into place. Then the voice registered. Vinnie took his head out of the engine, "Who? Oh, kid."
"I'm Rollin. John's...eh...nephew."
"You know my name?"
"Yes, John told me it. He said it would be okay for me to take out the glider if you had time to tow me out."
"I have some time," Vinnie hesitated, "Sure, except...John didn't tell me you..."
"I only just asked him," Rollin shrugged, "But if it is too short notice I understand." He turned, slyly waiting for Vinnie's response, his eyes darting in eagerness.
"No, no, I'll do it. Let me just check with John to see if he needs this baby today," Vinnie went to an intercom on the wall.
Rollin turned back to Vinnie, "Sure, you do that. That'll confirm it." Rollin stared at the inercom intensely. His mind found its electrical out-in put. He intercepted Vinnie's call with his mind.
John's voice answered back. Rollin rubbed his own throat, feigning it as a nervous movement. John's voice said, "Yes, take the boy out. He knows quite a bit about flying. Even been up a few times alone. He's a good kid."
Vinnie pressed the off switch, "Okay thanks John. He doesn't need the plane," he turned to Rollin. "SO let's go."
Rollin hopped to the glider, easily slid the transparent canopy aside and jumped into the plush red seat. Vinnie hooked up a tow line to another plane.
On FUTURE ONE, John sleepily waited for TIM's work to finish. He and Heather hadn't slept much last night. John put a hand to his chin to support it as he sat. "Almost upgraded TIM?"
"Yes, John. Finally finished."
"Good. Please contact the Trig. I want Timus and Timus only."
"Understood."
Quince bored of waiting for Heather to score and calculate the many IQ tests, left the room to watch Wilson and Rick try to find Jupiter.
Vinnie's plane pulled John's glider through the air. The glider. lighter, was higher up than the plane with Rollin aboard. He always wanted to fly. From the books he read, he knew he culd. Vinnie called on a speaker, "Rate of climb?"
"Nearing three thousand," Rollin puffed, his chest full of nervous energy.
"Release tow line," Vinnie called over the radio.
"Tow line?" Rollin's eyes darted over the control board.
"Towline! Release! Release now!"
Rollin caught the large red knob--it was so plainly obvious. Scowling at himself he pulled it. Vinnie soared away, back to Aerie as Rollin ascended.
Quince shrugged upon looking at Jupiter. Wilson had an idea, "Maybe Rollin will be interested in seeing it."
"Hey yeah," Quince said, "I'll go get him." Quince ran off.
"Pretty cool," Rick looked through the lens. "I must admit it."
John had Timus on a viewscreen. Timus looked grim, "From what you have told me, John, this boy is similar to a few break outs on the planet Rogus Five. Certainly the sparks you described were also observed there."
John said, "Well good, then can I jaunt to this planet and speak to the people of Rogus?" John thought, "Maybe they can tell us more."
"I'm afraid that is impossible."
"Well then can we matter-trans them here?"
"No, John. Let me make myself clear--due to uncontrolled, unexplained energy bursts--Rogus Five no longer exists."
John dropped his jaw open.
Rollin used the column stick to elevate to find a ridge along his upcurrent movement. He just wanted to fly back and forth for awhile. Maybe he'd want to leave Aerie for good, use a thermal sniffing method for a longer flight. For now none of it mattered as Rollin felt very happy with himself and the world. At this height and incredible view it was difficult not to enjoy the planet Earth. An alien feeling to the abused boy. He hit upon strong winds generated by the range of mountains near and around Aerie. The plane lifted. Flying was such a pleasant experience.
Quince scanned Rollin's empty room. He saw the bowl on the floor. On TV a bunny character flew a plane in a cartoon. The plane skidded to a halt inches from the ground. The bunny looked out a window of the plane, "You thought we were going to crash, didn't you." Quince took in the cartoon, feeling a rushing, hollow sensation dropping inside of him. Realization hit him. He teled, "John, Mike, Can you come to the hanger? I think Rollin's in trouble." Quince bolted for the hanger. Mike tumbled out of bed in sweatpants, groggy-eyed. He pulled himself up to leave the room. He decided on wearing a shirt. Tired, he grabbed one of Quince's and started to button it. As he did, he walked out, going the wrong way. Mike shuffled past Peter Wilson and Rick. Rick watched the living Zombie of sleep pass. He spit out his gum into an ash tray and took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, "What's his problem?"
Wilson shrugged.
John looked squarely at Timus, "Well old friend, I have to go. An emergency with the new kid." John waved and went to a jaunt pad.
After he jaunted, Timus mused, "Do you know just how old, young friend." He touched his head and telepathed, "Harry Stein, please see me at once. It is urgent to the survival of planet Earth. And bring your parollee along."
When John arrived at the hanger he came in so as not to startle Vinnie. He gave Mike a double take--seeing the small short sleeved shirt that did not fit on him. Mike, Vinnie, and Quince were staring out the door at the glider. Vinnie looked at John, "Sorry John, but you told me yourself he knew how to fly."
"I told..."
"It was your voice on the intercom," Quince told John, hinting to John not to go into it--that it was probrably some trick by Rollin.
John took binoculars from Vinnie's hand and looked at Rollin. Mike squinted, "He's doing a right fly though, isn't he?"
John forced a look to Mike, "He is dangerously close to the mountains. And he is blocking me out."
Quince went to the radio set up on the right wall, "This is the radio here?"
"Yes and its on," Vinnie put his hand to his brow to block out the sun from the open door.
Quince said, "What do I tell im?"
John calmed himself, "Not to turn the rudder so harshly. Let it ease up."
Quince called, "Look Rollin, can you hear me?"
Rollin didn't care where he was going to go--he was free--and he would do anything he wanted now. And for once he knew right from wrong, normal from abnormal. Quince's repeated message reached his ears and his mind. He looked out the window, seeing a mountain looming dangerously close, filling the canopy window. Rollin answered, "Quincy?"
"Ease the rudder into the middle position," Quince stated.
The plane began to level forward and stopped hinging at the mountain. John called to Quince, "Tell him to hit the spoilers--the dive brakes."
Rollin asked, "I have to come down?"
Quince called back, "Good idea." He tried to make his voice non-hostile and even less sarcastic.
"Don't humor me," Rollin told Quince, who was a year older than Rollin but not much taller. The two seemed almost the same age but weren't.
"Would it help if I said please?" Quince looked at his father who smiled knowing this was a tactic he had tried on him--saying please worked.
Rollin used the column stick to elevate to find a ridge along his upcurrent movement. He just wanted to fly back and forth for awhile. Maybe he'd want to leave Aerie for good, use a thermal sniffing method for a longer flight. For now none of it mattered as Rollin felt very happy with himself and the world. At this height and incredible view it was difficult not to enjoy the planet Earth. An alien feeling to the abused boy. He hit upon strong winds generated by the range of mountains near and around Aerie. The plane lifted. Flying was such a pleasant experience.
Quince scanned Rollin's empty room. He saw the bowl on the floor. On TV a bunny character flew a plane in a cartoon. The plane skidded to a halt inches from the ground. The bunny looked out a window of the plane, "You thought we were going to crash, didn't you." Quince took in the cartoon, feeling a rushing, hollow sensation dropping inside of him. Realization hit him. He teled, "John, Mike, Can you come to the hanger? I think Rollin's in trouble." Quince bolted for the hanger. Mike tumbled out of bed in sweatpants, groggy-eyed. He pulled himself up to leave the room. He decided on wearing a shirt. Tired, he grabbed one of Quince's and started to button it. As he did, he walked out, going the wrong way. Mike shuffled past Peter Wilson and Rick. Rick watched the living Zombie of sleep pass. He spit out his gum into an ash tray and took a cigarette from his shirt pocket, "What's his problem?"
Wilson shrugged.
John looked squarely at Timus, "Well old friend, I have to go. An emergency with the new kid." John waved and went to a jaunt pad.
After he jaunted, Timus mused, "Do you know just how old, young friend." He touched his head and telepathed, "Harry Stein, please see me at once. It is urgent to the survival of planet Earth. And bring your parollee along."
When John arrived at the hanger he came in so as not to startle Vinnie. He gave Mike a double take--seeing the small short sleeved shirt that did not fit on him. Mike, Vinnie, and Quince were staring out the door at the glider. Vinnie looked at John, "Sorry John, but you told me yourself he knew how to fly."
"I told..."
"It was your voice on the intercom," Quince told John, hinting to John not to go into it--that it was probrably some trick by Rollin.
John took binoculars from Vinnie's hand and looked at Rollin. Mike squinted, "He's doing a right fly though, isn't he?"
John forced a look to Mike, "He is dangerously close to the mountains. And he is blocking me out."
Quince went to the radio set up on the right wall, "This is the radio here?"
"Yes and its on," Vinnie put his hand to his brow to block out the sun from the open door.
Quince said, "What do I tell im?"
John calmed himself, "Not to turn the rudder so harshly. Let it ease up."
Quince called, "Look Rollin, can you hear me?"
Rollin didn't care where he was going to go--he was free--and he would do anything he wanted now. And for once he knew right from wrong, normal from abnormal. Quince's repeated message reached his ears and his mind. He looked out the window, seeing a mountain looming dangerously close, filling the canopy window. Rollin answered, "Quincy?"
"Ease the rudder into the middle position," Quince stated.
The plane began to level forward and stopped hinging at the mountain. John called to Quince, "Tell him to hit the spoilers--the dive brakes."
Rollin asked, "I have to come down?"
Quince called back, "Good idea." He tried to make his voice non-hostile and even less sarcastic.
"Don't humor me," Rollin told Quince, who was a year older than Rollin but not much taller. The two seemed almost the same age but weren't.
"Would it help if I said please?" Quince looked at his father who smiled knowing this was a tactic he had tried on him--saying please worked.
They all watched as the plane's lift decreased and it began to descend, turning back toward Aerie. As the plane came down toward their landing strip. Mike slapped John's back, "He's going to make it!"
John called to Rollin's mind, "Rollin, open your mind to me."
"NO!"
"Rollin, I want to..."
"Get out of my mind!"
John puffed, "Quince, tell him to apply the wheel brake."
Quince did so. Rollin saw the landing pad which ended short of a few huge trees. He didn't want to hit those--or did he? Suddenly a huge Oriental face filled the cockpit. "Your mother need you, Rollin." A girl, mature, Chinese, perhaps even part Japanese. Her face, semi-solid filled the cockpit. "Find your mother. Your real mother, father know where."
John looked at Rolln through the binoculars, "Why isn't he stopping?" The plane skidded toward the trees.
Rollin looked around the cockpit, "Who are you? Who are you?" Hsue Tai's face vanished. Mike looked, grabbing the binoculars.
"Something's wrong!"
Rollin grabbed his head, "NO! No, I can't!"
Quince teled, "Rollin, apply the brakes! Apply them now!"
"No, no, I can't," was the message Quince received from Rollin.
The wheel came into play. Suddenly Rollin hit the brake slowing the glider. The forward skid mount would further brake for Rollin--and after only a short ground run, the glider stopped. Rollin got out and noticed a few feet away--the end of the landing pad. Vinnie turned to John, "Sorry."
John gave him the binoculars, "It isn't your fault. I don't know what I was thinking." John lead Mike and Quince down to the landing pad. John reached it first, "You are never to go near this plane or the hanger again! Do you understand? Do you?"
Mike pulled John's arm, "Hey John, ease up!"
Rollin ignored John, "Good landing, aaye, Quince."
John grabbed Rollin's shoulders, "You will listen to me!"
"Take your hands off me!" ROllin shoved his body away from John, "You shouldn't touch me!" He looked at John angrily.
"And you don't deserve to talk to us. We feed you. bathe you, house you..."
"I will fly again if I want to! I will go to the hanger again! You can't stop me!"
"We'll see about that! You could've been killed!"
"A lot of things can kill me! And if you try to stop me I'll..." Rollin stopped.
John grabbed Rollin's collar and shoved the mass of leather and boy to the end of the pad, "Look you little runt! Look how close you were to death!"
Rollin fell, squirmed free of John's hold, and ran to Quince, "What do you care," he yelled at John, "You freakoid creeps! Maybe I wanted to die!"
John huffed a deep breath to calm himself, "We don't want that. I don't think you do either."
"I don't have to listen to you!" ROllin pointed to Mike, "Or you!"
Mike pointed to himself in his ridiculous short shirt, "Me?"
"As a Tomorrow Person there is a chain of authority, a very informal one but in times like this..."
"I've done worse things than this," Rollin moved at John, eyes burning hatred, "Things you've never even heard of. Filthy things!"
John said, "I know that. Look I blew it, I know that too. I just blow my stack when lives are at stake."
"I am still not going to listen to you. Any of you." Rollin looked at Quince who wanted to protest but instead Quince smiled at him, trying to show trust and patience.
John breathed in and out, "You're right. You don't have to. I've seen many Tomorrow People die before their time. I guess death of young ones makes me more angry than I should get."
Rollin had tears in his eyes, "I've seen young people die before their time, too. Its made me more than angry."
"Quince, will you take Rollin back for some lunch," John said, "And I think Rick wanted some lunch too."
Quince winked at John, "Got you. C'mon, Rollin." Quince looked at him, pleadingly. Rollin shuffled to him, kicking a stone. The two headed toward the spiraling staircase up the rock it was embedded in--a dark brown, camouflaged staircase which had a rock wall that could cover it over.
John looks at mike, "Will you help me get the glider into the hanger. With tele...and take your son's shirt off--you look ridiculous."
Mike smiled, "Alittle like me, isn't he?"
"Don't be so amused."
"At least he didn't crash it," Mike referred to himself.
John countered, "At least you didn't steal it." Mike laughed but John kept sullen. Both recalled the time Mike crashed John's previous, first glider---but it wasn't really Mike's fault. Hsue Tai had been trying to telepathically contact Mike while he was flying. That was a long time ago--almost twelve years ago. John thought on Rollin, "He hates me."
"I don't think so," Mike argued, "I just think someone in an authority position--someone Rollin trusted and listened to--used him and lied to him--did him dirty like. And now he hates --but hates authority mainly, not you."
"Mike, what is it like having a teenage son?"
Mike could only laugh, nodding in confusion. John was asking him for advice--and he couldn't begin to answer.
