"The leaves of memory seemed to make
A mournful rustling in the dark."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Chapter 8

Close Encounters of the Wifely Kind

Donna!

Perhaps the second-worst person to meet in this desert, besides having Sam bump into himself.

"Well, this should be interesting," Ziggy said with a titter, truly seeming to take delight at seeing how Al would get Sam out of this predicament. Sometimes Al swore that Sam programmed Ziggy to be a sadist.

"Oh crapola! Sam, stay low," Al ordered, waving his hands down as if he could stuff Sam into a hole. "Whatever you do, don't make a sound."

The car pulled over, crunching slowly over the dirt road, and crept into the center of the tiny ghost town. It was impossible to see the driver in the darkness. With the engine still growling, the driver's side door opened, and a person stepped out. As she walked close to the headlights, Donna's face was momentarily lit up.

She did not wear the trendy clothes of the day, merely something simple while still being elegant. That was how Donna always appeared, lovely without trying hard. She wore a form-fitting rose-pink dress with hearts cut out along the bust hem and a shimmering white belt that twinkled as the headlights gleamed on it.

Al cringed to see how nice she looked, her hair done up and makeup on. She had obviously dressed up for this holiday celebrating romance, hoping to impress her beloved husband, only to have him obsessed with work once again. Instead of getting mad and screaming at him, here she was, about to deliver the turkey dinner she had spent hours preparing. Al sometimes wished he had a wife as loyal and understanding as Donna Eleese-Beckett. Maybe then he would not be searching for wife number six … or was it seven?

Her eyes searched the darkness. "Hello?" she called out in genuine concern. "Is someone out there? I saw your lights swerve off the road. I was concerned that there might be a problem, and it's a long way to town. Are you all right? Are you hurt? Do you need help? I could call a tow truck."

Sam lifted his head at the sound of her voice. He was well-hidden behind the adobe building, completely out of view and unable to see her; however, Al saw the struggle contorting his face, a wavering recognition he fought to understand. His mouth faintly moved, as if desperate to call out to her, but his brain failed him once more. He did not understand why his instinct said she was safe.

"Hello?" Donna called out again, and she waited for a reply. Then she hummed to herself, pouted as she thought maybe it was her imagination, and climbed back into the car. The wheels churned on sand, and the car went back up onto the highway heading west.

Al sighed heavily. "That was close."

Sam began to walk the bike forward. "She … She sounded … familiar."

"You think so?" Al waved his hand in dismissal. "Probably a shop owner somewhere or … or some bar wench." He cringed at that. Bar wench? Seriously? Donna was one of the kindest, most brilliant women he knew, and he called her a bar wench?

Ziggy called out to him in a singsong taunt. "I'm telling Do-o-onna-a-a!"

Knowing Ziggy, that lousy overgrown calculator would gloat on what Al just said. Donna was going to kill him! Well, no. Knowing her, she would just laugh at the whole thing. That woman was seriously a saint.

Sam let the close encounter slide. "Check the highway. Are we clear?"

Al gladly let the matter go, and with a push of his handlink he centered himself on the highway. Donna's tail lights were fading away in the west. He waited a couple of minutes for her to get far enough away. Then Al saw her turn to the south, down Highway 525, on her way to Stallion's Gate. He waited just long enough for her to disappear behind some hills. All was dark once again.

"Yeah, okay, it's clear now," he called back.

Sam brought out the bike and turned the lights on, frightening a spiny lizard. The Harley started up, crashing through the silence of the desert. Without a backward glance, Sam continued to head east.

Al was once again on the back of the bike. His eyes looked to the west, but his focus was south of the main road. He saw Donna's car once again, faint yellow lights out in the desert. With nothing else around, it was easy to see. She stopped at what Al knew was the White Sands Missile Range guard shack, paused only a moment to show her ID badge, and then the car was off again.

The turkey dinner would reach Sam, cold but a testament of that woman's burning love.

In ten minutes, they were in what was known as Bingham. It could not really be called a town, with no post office, no gas station, no restaurants or motels, only Blanchard Rock Shop, the owner, her horse, and her two dogs. The store proudly claimed to be "three miles from the middle of nowhere," whatever that meant. Blanchard was one of the best rock shops around. They even gave tours.

Al remembered that Sam and Donna had loved going on the tours of the Blanchard Mining District. Him? A rock was a rock, and only the sparkling ones mattered.

Then it was miles of nothing.

For Al, this had to be one of the most boring Leaps ever. He knew he needed to watch Sam's back. That sudden explosion just off the interstate had scared the bejebbers out of him. The route Ziggy gave was dangerous. The odds of Sam spinning the bike around and going right back to Stallion's Gate were dropping, but still uncomfortably high. With Donna around, that made things twice as bad. Still, he had been working for eighteen hours with Sam on the last Leap, and now this! He rubbed his weary eyes.

He desperately needed another cigar!

The road slowly turned south and went between some mountains. Al was getting dizzy from the scenery flying by without the sensation of moving, but he did not dare leave Sam, not yet. Not until they were far, far away from Stallion's Gate.

He checked on Ziggy. The odds were still against them. History had, as far as he could tell, been changed. Theodore Nyt would have died back on I-25 in the explosion they just barely avoided. Now, Ziggy didn't know. In the new time line, Mr. Nyt simply vanished. Did he make it to Mexico on this route? Was he caught and killed, never to be found? Ziggy simply did not know. He disappeared from the Las Vegas penthouse and was never seen again.

Sam hummed some song, and his helmet bopped to the beat. At least he was not thinking about the mysterious woman back in the ghost town. Sam was adept at keeping his mind busy on long drives, whereas Al was ready to lie down and take a nap. The last Leap ended, and Al had just walked out of the Imaging Chamber when Ziggy insisted he had to return right now! Rarely were Sam's Leaps so quick. It had to be about two in the morning back home, and the night sky here was of no help. A glaring sun might have kept him alert, but the somnolent world around him only convinced him that he should be in bed with Tina now.

Finally, there was a faint glow ahead. They crossed over a lava bed: The Valley of Fires, miles upon miles of black rock. As if the land wasn't dark enough! Or dead enough! The city of Carrizozo was a few miles ahead of them.

"Carrizozo," mused Sam. "Land of Reed-Like Grass. I wonder how much grass actually grows out here." It was impossible to tell in this darkness.

Al yawned, and like a contagion, Sam yawned too.

"Anyone following us?" asked Sam.

"Nope," Al said laconically. "Are you pulling over?"

"I know you keep saying I shouldn't, but I need to. I'm hungry, sore, and tired. At the very least, I need a soft booth and a hot cup of coffee."

"Sounds good," muttered Al. He opened the door to the Imaging Chamber, and it floated just behind the tail of the bike. "I need a nap. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone. And whatever you do, don't head back!" he insisted sternly. "Go southwest on Highway 54. It's called Central Avenue here. You must get going before sunrise, Sam, okay?"

"Okay," he said with a complaisant smile.

"Scout's honor?"

Sam laughed and held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

"Good. I'll be back in the morning."

With one last yawn, Al stepped out, and the bright white door shut. Sam was temporarily blinded by the dark night. The desert felt suddenly larger and more ominous without Al there with him.

"Cold turkey," San began to sing to himself, "has got me on the run."

A/N:

There is fan debate if Sam actually remembers marrying Donna at all, albeit lost somewhere in his swiss-cheesed memories. He obviously does when he Leaps back home ("The Leap Back") but returning to the present also messed up his memories of the Leaps he already did, a reverse magnaflux.

Would he now remember only those post-Leap changes? Did re-Leaping revert him to his original memories? Would it be a combination of the two?

I believe Sam would suffer the same dual-memory Al does, who remembers both original-timeline and Leap-changed history, simultaneously. Which means somewhere in that swiss-cheese memory of his, Sam remembers Donna leaving him at the altar, and remembers marrying her. I can't begin to imagine how that would feel. Luckily, her voice did not trigger those memories.

The last line is from "Cold Turkey" by John Lennon. I do not hold the rights to this song. I use that line for entertainment purposes only. I make no money on this fanfiction.