Chapter 5

When the Eppes men reached the lake, there was no sign of Larry – on land, anyway. Their best guess to his location was a distant, screaming man flailing behind a water skier. The boat pulled him over to a dock on the far side of the lake. Fifteen minutes later, Alan, Don, and Charlie hopped off a golf cart to find their friend soaked and thoroughly disgraced.

"What happened?!" Charlie cried as campground medics hoisted Larry onto a stretcher.

"You know, just the usual fishing mishap," Larry joked. "You fling your fishing line out too far, you snag a water skier's line, you get dragged unceremoniously through the waves until these nice young men rescue you."

A couple hours later, Larry emerged from the infirmary with a cast on one arm and stabilizing boot on one ankle. The medics told him he'd been lucky, that his neck could've been easily broken. They discharged him with strict instructions to do nothing but rest the next several days.

Music to the Eppes' men's ears. With Larry confined to a camp chair, there'd be no more dodging the answers they all craved.

Except for the six-hour nap Larry snored his way through after lunch.

"Is he still alive in there?" Alan questioned when dinnertime rolled around, and Larry still hadn't stirred from the RV.

"I'll go check," offered Don. Inside the camper, all the blackout curtains were drawn, but meager light peeked in around the corners. Don paused to listen; sure enough, the rhythmic sound of Larry's snoring drifted from behind his bunk curtain. Six hours, Don mouthed to himself. Like it or not, it was high time Larry rejoined the land of the living.

Don yanked back the curtain and poked Larry's leg a few times. There was a muffled grunt, some incoherent syllables, and then Larry bolted upright in bed.

"Did my trap go off?!" he asked excitedly, rubbing his eyes.

"What?"

"Did I catch any squirrels?"

"Um, no? Dinner's in about fifteen minutes. Time to get up," Don pulled the blanket off him.

Larry sniffed the air approvingly. "Mmm, is that moray eel I smell cooking?"

"Ew, no!" Don screwed up his face. "It's ribeye!"

"Oh. Got any tapioca pudding?"

With dinner a success (Larry's opinion notwithstanding), the children went to sleep in the RV while the adults prepared their first proper campfire hangout. The beer cooler finally made its appearance, the women put their feet up on some log footstools, and Larry had nowhere to run or hide.

Don's eyes twinkled mischievously as he watched Larry down a couple beers, praying they'd loosen his tongue as the night went on.

"So Alan," Larry addressed him, "You and I haven't had much time to talk this past week."

"True, it's a shame."

"I just wanted to say, it seems like you've really come into your own since I left. Three grandkids, and two more on the way. Retirement is treating you well," Larry extolled.

"You could say that," Alan chuckled. "I went from a 'conspicuous lack of grandchildren' to what you might call a conspicuous baby boom!"

"You're not complaining, are you dad?" asked Don.

"Oh no, definitely not! It's just funny how I went from hassling you two to get married, to encouraging your competition to pop out more kids than the other."

"Don's obviously winning that race," quipped Charlie.

"Hey, don't blame me, it's all Robin's fault!" Don claimed. "She's the one who enjoys being pregnant so much. It just so happens that I… really enjoy making that happen."

Everyone roared with laughter. "And you also enjoy drinking so much beer that you say things like that in front of everyone!" Robin swatted his arm.

Grinning sheepishly, Don leaned back in his chair. "Eh, you'll catch up soon enough, little brother. Pretty sure Robin and I are done after this one. Having kids after age 40 wears you out something awful."

"Hey, how'd this conversation get so off track?" interjected Alan. "I thought it was supposed to be my turn to converse with Larry."

"So converse then," Don encouraged.

Alan sat up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders. "All right Larry. When you showed up at the house last weekend, looking like a homeless transvestite, you said you needed to talk to Charlie first before telling us what happened to you. Well, you've had all week to talk to him. When are we gonna hear the story?"

Before Larry could respond, Don turned to Charlie. "Did he even tell you anything?"

"Nope," Charlie admitted.

"Enough is enough, Larry Fleinhart! Out with it, every last detail!" demanded Alan.

"Yeah Larry. You said you'd tell us if we all came to Yogi Bear," Amita reminded him. "Tonight's our last night here. It's now or never."

Realizing he was cornered, Larry rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Sorry I've kept putting it off. It's just… I thought I had something amazing to share, but then I saw how perfect and put-together all your lives are. It made my story look stupid in comparison."

"Oh, no, no. Whatever your story is, it's valid and worth hearing," Don assured him, still suspecting he'd been kidnapped. And Don never turned down an opportunity to put a sociopath behind bars.

"All right," Larry took a long, deep breath. "Here goes. When I was in the space shuttle, I saw… things."

"What, like satellites and shooting stars?" Alan guessed.

"Some of those, yes. But… other things as well," Larry hesitated. "There were these pulses of light. First on the control screen, then outside. It was like lightning bolts jumping between stars. I… I tried getting the other crew members to see, but every time they looked out the window, it stopped."

Knowing glances spread throughout the crowd, and Charlie clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

"It didn't take me long to realize what was happening," Larry went on. "They were communicating with me. The aliens."

"What did they say?" Alan asked with impressive self-control.

"Their message is ongoing. I'm still receiving bits and pieces," said Larry. "But I'm fairly certain they're sending me information on how to save the world from Armageddon."

"That's swell of them!" Amita couldn't help herself.

"Indeed. Very magnanimous," Larry concurred. "Now, if only I could say the same for their approach to human experimentation…"

"Oh, Larry… don't tell me?" Charlie held his breath.

"Yes," Larry dropped his head. "I'm afraid so. I was abducted… and probed."

Amita shot Charlie a wild-eyed look. "What was it like?"

"They erased most of my memory, but some blurry snapshots remain. Floating avocados… two-legged horses… sideways waterfalls… paper that doesn't make a sound when it's crumpled… it's all so fragmented, but if I focus hard enough, maybe it'll all come back to me!"

"I'm sure. Maybe you'll even remember what these 'aliens' looked like?" Don asked hopefully.

"That's not the question we should be asking!" Larry huffed. "The more important question is, why has the scientific community ignored the thermonuclear properties of hummingbird moths? …GAAH!" he nearly tipped over his chair. In the dim twilight, a rogue squirrel could be seen scurrying beneath the camper. "Alan, I really wish you'd done more research into the local squirrel population before choosing this campground!"

"You know, I wouldn't be too worried, Larry. There hasn't been a rabies case in this area in over thirty years," Don commented.

Larry tried to tuck himself into a ball. "It's not rabies I'm worried about," he said with a shiver.

"You gonna be okay sleeping out here tonight?" asked Alan.

Larry bit his lip. "Uh… I can use the tent you packed, right?"

Next up: the finale!