Many of the characters within this story, and the universe they inhabit, are the intellectual property of Jason Katims Productions.
Roswell: Re-Imagined
Written by Horatio Jaxx
Chapter 51: Welcome to Roswell
It was a quarter past one o'clock on a Saturday afternoon; and Tess had been leading her father through the Walmart Supercenter for the past thirty minutes. She had no problems with that. Grocery shopping was the one thing they did together routinely. It was her time with him, and she had no desire to change that. Her affinity for her father was the dearest relationship she had, outside of Kyle. Even then, with Kyle in her life, she could never consider doing anything that would hurt her dad. Abandoning their bi-monthly outings to the grocery store was one of the things she feared would be a painful loss for him. She had grown too old to be the little girl who snuggled next to her father while he watched the news. And her interests, and friends, outside of their home had turned much of their time together into brief greetings as she passed him on the way out the front door. For Tess, grocery shopping with her father had become a sacred event. And the coming event, that she feared would end that tradition, made today even more important.
There cart was nearly full when Tess felt the energy of another mind like hers. That came as no surprise to her. She had crossed the path of Julie's aura here several times, and Aaron and Jason on a couple of occasions. She noted the presence of this powerful mind with a slight turn of her head in the direction was emanating from before returning to the task in front of her. It had become second nature for her to remain inconspicuous while holding a telepathic communication. She patiently waited for a convenient time and location to stand still and quiet so that she could project a hello to whoever was there. That was not immediately possible while her father was conversing with her about a varied selection of laundry detergent. She entertained the discussion amicably; after all there was no hurry in this. She knew if there was anything important to be said the other telepath would have communicated it right away. After a minutes had passed with no form of communication from the other mind like hers, Tess became a little intrigued to know who this person was.
"I'm going to run and get a few things from the women's aisle," Tess notified hastily. "I'll be right back."
Desmond Harding agreed to that with a passing nod and then turned his attention to comparing packages of frozen vegetables. Tess quickly hurried off to a section across the center lane and three aisles down. She entered the aisle and stopped halfway down its length. The shelves were full of hair care products. She removed a bottle of conditioner off one of them and locked her gaze onto it as she focused her thoughts on projecting a message.
Thirty seconds later, Tess's demeanor changed into a look of confusion. She put the conditioner down by her side and glanced back and forth across the shelf with a ponderous expression. Her attention appeared to be entertaining multiple thoughts. After another several seconds, she went still and erect. Her focus returned. She stared into the shelf in front of her and did so for nearly two minutes with a blank expression. Suddenly, at the end of that time, she stumbled backwards with an audible gasp. She began to search the space in front of her with a glazed expression and several turns of her head. A nearby shopper noticed her with a look of concern. A seconds later, she stood still in the middle of the aisle, took a deep breath, composed herself again and projected a final message. Several seconds later, she left the aisle and finished grocery shopping with her dad.
LINE BREAK
It was five-forty-nine that Saturday morning when the Greyhound bus lurched to its stop at the Virginia Street Station. Kenneth Burton was partially awakened by the jolt. His first thought was to ignore it. This was only the latest of many such jolts. He was just about to readjust his head against the back of his seat when the driver announced, "Roswell," over the intercom. He perked up and looked around in response. The door to the bus was promptly opened and passengers began climbing out of their seats. He quickly turned his head to the window and attempted to survey the city in the early morning light. He saw nothing worthy of any interest from him. Nonetheless, this was Roswell, New Mexico, and that fact alone was enough to nearly take his breath away.
Kenneth Burton watched as the bus full of passengers began gathering their things and started shuffling their way down the aisle and towards the door. He was in no hurry. He waited for most of the passengers to leave before climbing up onto his feet and stepping out into the aisle. He slipped his jacket on, gathered his backpack from the overhead compartment and filed out of the bus with the last four passengers. The air outside was cool, but not cold. His jacket was more than a match for the temperature. He zipped it halfway up to better insulate himself before walking ten yards out from the bus. He then looked about again and noted that the station was little more than a space that was set aside for Greyhound buses. He then fixed his gaze on the better developed area of the city and began walking in that direction.
Standing six-feet three-inches tall, with dark shaggy hair that he regularly combed away from his face with his fingers, Kenneth Burton was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His facial features were chiseled and rugged in appearance. His attire was casual. A dark blue hip length hooded insulated jacket partially concealed a white cotton long sleeve collarless thermal shirt. His pants were granite-colored khakis, and his feet were covered with black hiking boots.
Over the next two hours Kenneth Burton wandered about in an area that was roughly one square mile of north Roswell. There was nothing in the area that he particularly wanted to see. Nothing in the city held any interest for him. The city, far more so than any part, is what interested him. He took it all in as he casually strolled about it. Eventually, he found a cheap motel and took a room. He paid for a one week stay in cash. Within minutes of entering the room, he flopped down on the bed and went to sleep.
Kenneth woke up three hours later refreshed and hungry. After sampling the weather outside, he abandoned the jacket. The temperature had warmed above the need for outerwear. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to expose his forearms and then set out to find his morning meal. Half an hour later, he came across a McDonald's Restaurant and went inside. By then it was too late for a breakfast plate. He settled for a hamburger, some fries and a soda. He sat by the front window and ate his meal while watching the flow of traffic, vehicle and pedestrian. He lingered there for much longer than it took to consume his food. He acquired a newspaper left behind by a patron and read through it to pass the time. An hour and a half later, he was finished with both his meal and the paper. He then exited the restaurant and began to wander again.
There was no pattern to his walk about. He simply needed to be someplace that he had not been before. At this hour the traffic was at its most congested. The direction of flow the cars on the road drew him along like the flow of a river. There was no reasoning to his action. He simply did not know where else to go, and he did not know where he needed to be. His travels were being governed by a feeling. From the beginning he had his doubts about coming to Roswell, and every minute there that did not produce an explanation for its allure gave added weight to that doubt. But it only took the leading instant of a thrilling new sensation to validate the entire journey. With a soft audible gasp, he drew in his breath and held it as he spun around searching for the source of the titillating exhilaration that had suddenly engulfed him. After nearly ten minutes of scanning the area, he could see nothing to explain the feeling he was experiencing. It was then that it suddenly announced itself.
Hi, this is Tess. Who's this?
Kenneth Burton froze with a look of shock on his face. He knew instantly that this greeting was a thought in his head. But he also knew that the thought was not his. He stood stationary waiting for this phenomenon to repeat. Several seconds later it did.
Who's out there?
Once again, he was nearly overwhelmed by the sensation of someone else's thought echoing in his head. He began to look about him as he slowly rotated. He focused in on every individual he could see, no matter the distance, and then he quickly moved on to the next when they did not appear to be looking for him. He had been doing this for nearly a minute when the process was interrupted by a new thought that was not his.
Stand still … Relax … Concentrate on feeling everything around you with your mind … Think about what you want to say … Now, make everything you feel resonate with the words in your head.
Kenneth was stunned by these words that resounded in his thoughts. He pondered this message with an expression near to terror on his face. Several seconds into his panic he felt another message resounding in his head.
I can't hear you until you do that.
Kenneth understood what this message was telling him to do. But he could not help but question if someone was actually talking to him in his thoughts, or if he was just dreaming it all up. A few seconds after the last message, he decided to try and do what the message said. After taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his surroundings. He could feel the space around him and everything within it radiating inside his head. He focused on the sensation until it was as vivid as he could make it. And then he projected a thought into it.
Who are you?
It felt to Kenneth as if he had extended his mind somehow, but he had no idea if he had communicated with anyone, or just made a fool of himself. Seconds later he received his validation.
I told you who I am. Who are you?
How are you in my head? Kenneth projected back with a stunned expression. Almost immediately, the question came back to him.
Who are you?
Kenneth continued to be surprised by each new thought that echoed into his head. He paused after the last one and assimilated what he was being asked. He then responded to it with a thought that he extended out from his person.
My name is Kenneth Burton. What's happening to me? Why am I here?
Kenneth waited for a response to his inquiry. After nearly a minute of nothing he projected his unease with the quiet.
Who am I? What am I? How can I do these things? Tell me what's going on.
Seconds later, he got his response.
Meet me behind the Supercenter at a quarter to three. I'll tell you what I know then. Don't speak to anyone about this. That's important. We're being watched.
Kenneth Burton made several more attempts to communicate with the mind that was tingling inside his head, but he received no reply. Thirty minutes later the tingling sensation was gone, and he resolved at that moment to wait for its return.