A Starman story
By: Yvette Jessen
© 1999 an amateur publication and not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights.
Heather hated the basement of her building because it was dark and spooky. The chilly interior reeked of stale cigarette smoke, and the dark tunnel extended down a corridor as though it led into another world. This building had been built some 40 years ago, sometime before she was born, but it actually connected her building to the next one. There were stories that had been circulated since her childhood that the basement was haunted, and for some reason, she felt compelled to believe it.
Normally, she wouldn't have known what there was in the basement, as she rarely stepped into it unless she had someone with her that would protect her from the unknown things that were there. Her younger brother, Steve, had explored the entire building when he had come home from his new house on the coast to visit her and her parents.
It had been 10 years since she and her husband had divorced, and sometime after that had been finalized, she had reluctantly moved back in with her parents when her father was diagnosed with Alzheimer's and her mother needed some help in taking care of him. Now, she was living with her parents again, something she thought would never happen, but it was either that, or move into a special hospital for people with mental disorders. She didn't want that, and now her two sons were grown and going to college out of state, so she had agreed to move back home and help her parents because of her father's health.
She opened the door which would lead into the basement hallway. She reached over to turned on the light, but as usual it didn't work, and she swore under her breath as she looked around and saw the eerie shadows extended from the dismal looking windows. A loud crashing of boxes startled her and made her look up. Though she couldn't see down the hallway, she had a feeling that she wasn't alone. She grabbed the key from her pocket and unlocked the small room, swung the door open, and shoved three large boxes inside. Not caring where they landed, she threw the door closed again and began fumbling with her keys in an attempt to close the door, lock it, and get out of there quickly.
She hated being alone in the basement because it made her paranoid, and she felt completely unnerved by this feeling. Being trapped alone in the basement was the worst thing she could imagine, but she had promised her parents that she would get the rest of the boxes out of the apartment while they were on vacation and she wanted to get that done before they returned. Since they were due back the following morning, she knew she had to get things in order as quickly as possible and that she had put it off long enough.
Sighing deeply, she began to daydream. Her daydreams were always centered around her dream of finding a new friend. Her husband had not been very kind to her during her marriage, and she always held out the hope of meeting someone who would make her feel special and beautiful. At first, her husband had been very supportive of her dreams of competing in the 'Special Olympics' as a runner, but after her two sons were born, the support he had often given, suddenly stopped and she was forced to give up many things that had been important to her in order to become a full-time mother.
Somehow, being in the basement made her mind wander and she smiled in spite of herself. The daydreams seemed to relax her as she continued the chore of collecting the remainder of the boxes from the stairwell, once again unlocking the small room, and putting the boxes inside. Her father would be happy that she had remembered to take care of these boxes, but she knew that if she had forgotten again, her mother would have yelled at her and she didn't like that at all.
She turned to leave, but began to reflect on her family. Even Steve would be proud that she managed to go downstairs and into the basement without freaking out. She turned to go, when she heard the sounds again emerging from the blackness of the corridor, and she swallowed the lump that had began to form in her throat.
As she walked quickly towards the door, she felt a hand suddenly fall on her shoulder and a gentle voice was heard above her hammering heart. She backed away from the sound of the voice, and closed her eyes against the shadow of a man who was blocking the light that was coming in through the small window. This light was casting an eerie shadow on the long hallway and she opened her mouth to scream, but couldn't get any sounds to emerge.
"Don't be afraid," the voice was soft and Heather backed into a large stack of boxes and fell over them. As she tumbled backwards, her head rammed against the concrete wall. She moaned in pain as her head hit the wall and she slid down to the floor.
She looked up, her hands covering her eyes and face, the tears coming down her cheeks. After a few seconds of looking at him, she began to cry, but the man couldn't tell if she was crying in pain from having hit her head against the wall, or if she was afraid of him.
o O o
Paul Forrester's hand was still extended towards the woman when he saw her trip and fall against the wall. "Scott," he called to his son, and Scott Hayden appeared from the shadows. "She's afraid," he whispered, "and we have to get out of here."
"Yeah, I can tell, but we can't just leave her here, maybe she needs a doctor or something. I mean she did hit her head pretty hard against that wall." Scott looked down at the woman who was still sitting against the wall, her hands on the ground, and fright evident in her eyes.
Paul nodded, and offered her his hand, but when she didn't accept it, he spoke softly, "I'm sorry we frightened you, it wasn't our intention."
Heather nodded numbly, and finally accepted his outstretched hand. Once she was on her feet, she moved towards the wall which helped to keep her on her feet.
"Are you OK?" Paul asked.
She looked up, his face was now a blur, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. She had never felt so dizzy before, and that frightened her. She maintained her hold on the side of the wall, but the expression on her face indicated that she really didn't know how to handle this particular situation.
"Are you OK?" Paul repeated his question, this time he got a tentative nod.
"I'm OK," she began to speak, but what emerged from her mouth sounded hard for Paul or Scott to understand, because her words were somewhat slurred, but her green eyes could somehow indicate to them that she was fine. She continued to make her way towards the doorway which would lead to the stairwell. When she opened the door, George Fox was standing on the other side. His fiery gray eyes bearing into her own and she backed away from him without saying anything.
"I'm sorry Ma'am, I was looking for someone else," he began, but before he could say anything else, she ran past him, through the hallway and up the stairs. Fox followed trying to get her to stop, but once he reached the second story, it was futile, the woman was gone.
Paul and Scott remained plastered against the doorway, concealed by the shadows of the darkened basement. The woman had led Fox away from them, giving them the mobility to try to get away from the tall high-rise apartment building without getting caught, but the entire event befuddled Paul and he looked at his son confused.
Scott started walking towards the door, but before he got there, Paul had reached out and grabbed his son's arm. "No," Paul whispered urgently, "I have a feeling that Fox will come back, we have to find a place to hide, somewhere he wouldn't look."
"How about in there? That woman forgot to lock the door and I can hear someone coming back down the stairs," Scott said.
Paul nodded, and both father and son opened the door, went inside the small cubicle, and closed the door, leaving it cracked so they would be able to get out once Fox had left the building.
o O o
Heather reentered the basement and after carefully looking behind her and making sure that Fox was no longer there, she approached the door of her parent's basement space. She had managed to lose the persistent agent through the familiar stairways in the building. Her ability to run was uncanny, and she smiled in spite of herself. There was no way that Fox could have caught up with her, she was just too fast for him. Even at 40, she could still run as fast as a rabbit if she had to.
A sound brought her out of her reverie, and she could see the door opening that she had entered, and without thinking, she ran inside the small cubicle of her parents, right as Fox entered the hallway that would extend throughout the basement. Upon hearing him coming inside, she stumbled against a few of the boxes, and fell against them causing them to come crashing down on top of her.
Upon hearing the loud crash and without thinking, Fox ran to the door, slammed it shut, and locked it without saying a word.
o O o
Some time later, Heather opened her eyes and began to push the boxes away, all the while attempting to stand up, and make her way towards the door which would lead outside. Her fright mounted when she realized that she was now trapped inside the room, and the door was firmly locked. She began wailing as she banged on the door, fright overwhelming her as she came to realize that she was trapped alone in this room.
Paul and Scott sat hunched in the corner, watching her as she got off the dirty floor, dusted herself carefully off, and began banging on the door after she had realized what had happened. They were still hidden in the back of the room, their confusion mounting as they watched her begin to wail. Scott looked at his father completely at a loss as to what to do or say. Finally, he looked at his father, and spoke, his voice hushed. "Dad what's up with her, she's acting more like a small child than an adult? I mean, she looks like she's about your age, and yet, she's acting like a kid" Scott said not sure what to do.
"It's frightening for her to be in here alone, and she feels trapped." Paul said softly. He stood up from his hiding place and approached her, his hand once again resting on her shoulder, "it's OK, don't be afraid, you're not alone in here."
Heather turned around, her frightened expression softening once she saw him standing near her. Her fists lowered from the door, and she turned around, looked at him with relief and absolute trust evident in her facial expression.
"Are you afraid of me?" Paul asked gently.
"No," she answered, her innocent answer reminding Scott of his father right after he had returned to Earth. This immediately made him feel comfortable and he crawled out from behind the boxes and joined them.
"But you were afraid of that other man?" Paul asked.
Heather nodded, "yeah, he looked mean."
Paul laughed, "you seem to have a good sense of people?"
"Yes, I know when people want to hurt me, and I know you don't, you're nice, and handsome too," she replied, all the while, her words slurring together as she picked up a small blue ribbon and ran it between her fingers. "I know that you're a stranger, and I'm not supposed to trust strangers, but you have nice eyes and I don't think you will do anything bad to me."
Paul smiled gently, and nodded as she walked away from the doorway and grabbed a box and sat down. "What's your name?"
"Heather," she answered.
"I'm Paul, and that's my son, Scott," Paul made the introductions.
Scott's eyes met hers and he spoke, "hi."
Heather smiled, her somewhat wrinkled hand reached out to Paul in order to shake hands with him. "you should hide, I don't know if you are safe out in the open, that man has locked us inside here, and there's no way out except if someone opens the door."
"You didn't like it in here did you?" Paul asked.
"No, I'm scared of being inside here alone, but you are here, and so I'm not alone," she giggled, her voice coming out as though she had hiccups. "While we're in here, I can show you many of my treasures, if you want to see, but you have to hide, I don't want you to get hurt by that man."
Scott laughed out loud when he heard her start to giggle. "We'll be careful, won't we, Dad?"
Paul nodded but smiled, "we'd love to see your treasures, Heather."
"Yeah, like that ribbon, did you win it in something?" Scott asked referring to the blue ribbon she still held in her hands.
"I won it in the 'Special Olympics' when I was 25," she said proudly, and showed them the ribbon. "I competed in the women's race, Scott."
"'Special Olympics'?" Paul asked. "What's that?"
Scott smiled, he now understood the odd behavior she showed, but now that he thought about it, it wasn't so odd, it was completely natural for her. "It's an athletic competition for people with disabilities, Dad. Some of the people that compete, have physical handicaps and are in wheelchairs, and some, like Heather, have mental disabilities, but are also allowed to compete in lots of athletic competitions," he explained.
"You don't have a mental disability, Heather. You seem very perceptive to me," Paul said.
Heather shook her head, "I do have one though, even though I can perceive things. My mother told me once what it's called, but I forgot, and she told me that because I have this, I am considered special by many people."
Scott smiled, "so what did you compete in?" he asked trying to change the subject.
"I ran in two events, the 50 and 100 yard dashes. I won both events, too," she picked up another ribbon and showed it to Paul and Scott. "But, this was in a local event, and I always wanted to compete in the national competition, but I got married and had to give up running after my twin sons were born."
"You have kids, too?" Paul asked.
Heather smiled proudly, "yes, they are both studying at the university now. David studies Physics, and Daniel studies Chemistry. They are both good boys, and very smart, too."
"Do you see them a lot?" Scott asked.
"No, their father took them away from me when they were younger and after we divorced, but they have both written me letters and tell me everything they do." She picked up a box that was sitting in the corner of the room. "David" was written on top of the box, and she opened it so Paul and Scott could see inside. "See, these are all from David saved from the time he was 10 years old."
Paul looked down at the large box of letters, it was nearly full, and he picked up an envelope and looked down at the boyish script that was on the letter. It was addressed to "Ms. Heather Jennings" and underneath that was the word, "Mom" decorated with stickers and drawings.
Then Heather picked up a second box about the same size and the name "Daniel" was written on the top of the lid. She opened the box and showed them that it was filled with Daniel's letters. "I save everything they send me, because they are special, and these letters are my treasures."
Scott looked down at the box of letters and sighed sadly. He had longed to be able to write such letters to his own mother, but because of their lives as fugitives, this wasn't possible. All he had of his mother was an old picture, but he always wanted to be able to tell her how much he missed her and how much he loved her. He looked at his father and picked up one of the letters from Daniel. "May I read one?" he finally asked, trying to keep the hoarseness out of his voice.
Heather smiled, "yes, but read it out loud, I can't read them so good in the dark."
Scott opened the envelope gently, pulled out two written pages and began to read: "Dear Mommy, I miss you. Daddy said that we could come to visit you at the hospital, but I wanted to come see you at Grandma and Grandpa's house. My baseball team won yesterday, and my coach said that I was the winner because I hit the triple in the 9th inning. I wish you could have seen it! Daddy said that it was a nice memory to watch me hit that ball. David did good too, he hit a double, and caught a fly ball." Scott paused, swallowed, and continued reading, "we went to the movies two nights ago and watched a movie about a family. It was a nice movie, because in the end, Mommy, Daddy, and the children were together and lived happily ever after. I wish that we could be like that, but Daddy said that you have to live somewhere else, and we don't like it. We think you should be with us."
The tears began to stream down Scott's cheeks as he attempted to read the rest of the letter. His vision was somewhat blurred by the tears, but he continued to read, trying to block out the emotions which came to him as he read the rest of the letter form Heather's son. "I know that you are unhappy separated from us, but we will always love you. Your son, Daniel."
He put the letter back inside the envelope and handed it to Paul who returned it to Heather's box of letters.
Heather sighed contentedly once Scott had read the letter, and she looked up and could see his eyes brimming with tears, and how sad they looked. She stood up and walked over to the teenager, "Scott, are you sad?"
The teenager looked into the kindly eyes of the middle-aged woman and nodded, forgetting the disability she had, only feeling her arms wrapping around him and holding him in a tight, comforting embrace. For him, that was the most important thing there was, the feeling of her hugging and caring about him when his mother wasn't there to.
"It's OK to be sad, Scott," Heather said gently, breaking the embrace. "I am sad a lot, because I am separated from my sons, and I always knew I could be a good mother. I know I'm not very smart, but that doesn't define how much you can love someone else." She smiled gently as she pulled a locket from under her sweater, "see, I carry my sons in my heart, and I think that your mother does too." She opened the locket and on each side were tiny photographs of two young men. They both had the same piercing green eyes as Heather, and in their smiles, one could easily see the love they had for their mother. "See, they are always there, and when you love your mother, she's in your heart, too."
"You know we're looking for Scott's mother, Heather?" Paul asked.
She nodded, "I thought that you were on a special mission when Scott was reading Daniel's letter. His eyes were wet from wanting to cry and I could tell that he needed the love of his mother."
"You really are perceptive," Scott said softly, and she tightened her hold on him and continued to comfort him. Gently, she brushed his dark hair out of his eyes with her hand.
"No, Scott, I'm just a mother," Heather said smiling, but after a few seconds passed, she grew silent and her smile disappeared. She placed her finger over her lips and began to whisper to them urgently. "I hear someone outside, you should hide." She released Scott.
The two of them scrambled back into their corner, and once they were hidden securely behind the large boxes, Heather began to bang on the door again, "let me out of here," she screamed hysterically. After a few seconds passed, the door flung open and she was once more looking into the steely gray eyes of George Fox.
"You!" Fox exclaimed, "you're the one I had locked inside this room the whole time?"
Heather nodded, but said nothing to the agent.
"What are you doing in there, how did you get in there?" he demanded.
"My mom and dad asked me to rearrange their basement room," Heather said as she recomposed herself. "I didn't do anything wrong, you did."
"What makes you so sure of that?" Fox asked.
"You locked me in here, and that's not a very nice thing to do. I'm afraid in such small places, too," she said, her voice taking on the emotions of a child, rather than those of a grown woman.
Fox looked at her skeptically, "is there anyone else in that room?" he finally asked her.
"No, I was working in there alone, then the boxes fell on top of me, you locked the door, and wouldn't let me out. Why wouldn't you let me out? I didn't do anything wrong," she asked, her hand holding the small gold necklace at her neck. "I was afraid that I would be stuck in here all night long, and I don't like the dark at all, it's scary."
Fox looked at her as though she was insane. "Listen Lady, I don't know why you're doing this to me, but I would appreciate it if you would stop pretending with me and start answering my questions like an adult."
"I don't pretend," she answered running her hand through her graying blonde hair. "I may not be as smart as you, but I don't play to be something I'm not." She held out the ribbon and tried to show him that she had won in the "Special Olympics" almost 15 years ago.
"Have you seen these two people?" Fox asked, ignoring the fact that she wanted to show him the ribbon and he pulled out two glossy photographs.
"No," she said, but ran her hand across the picture of Paul. "He's handsome, don't you think? His eyes look nice, too. He doesn't look like he would be mean to someone who isn't as smart as he is, either."
Fox tried to ignore her words, but looked at her once again skepticism in his facial expression. Finally, he smiled weakly, and took the pictures away from her. "You haven't seen them at all then?"
"No, but my brother said that this building extends into the next one, maybe they are in the other building. All you have to do is follow the hallway. It might even take you into another world, or into a haunted house, but maybe I already live in one of those," she said softly, and smiled mysteriously. "You know what, my favorite books are The Chronicles of Narnia? Maybe if you follow that hallway, it will lead you into another world like the wardrobe in the first book and you'll meet Aslan, the great lion. But, if you do go, and you meet Aslan, tell him 'hi' for me."
Fox looked at her again, and started to shake his head in disbelief. He sighed deeply, and turned away from her and started to walk down the corridor.
After a few seconds, he could hear her voice coming from behind him, "Thank you Mister, you showed me that I didn't have to be afraid of the basement after all." She watched as he made his way down the hall and when she saw his flashlight beam disappear through the doorway which led into the other building, she smiled and returned to where Paul and Scott were hiding.
"Is he gone?" Paul asked once she appeared inside the small room.
She nodded, "yes, I will take you somewhere where you'll be safe, and can get something to eat. But you have to hurry!"
Paul nodded, stood up, and approached her slowly, "Thank you, Heather, but we have to leave here. It's not safe for any of us now. You could get into trouble for helping us. I know you understand what I'm saying, don't you?"
"I understand," she said softly, "but you don't know where he is going to be. He could come back at any moment, and you'll get into trouble. Please, just come stay with me until it gets dark. You have to eat, then you will have strength to run if you have to. I will take you to the train station, and you can move on to find Scott's mother. I know if that man catches you, you'll never find her."
Paul nodded after a few seconds, "OK, but only until it gets dark."
She reached over and took Scott's hand. "You must be very quiet. This man can only find us if he comes back this way. I can take you to where it's safe."
The two fugitives followed the woman out of the small room, down the corridor, and up the stairs. Once they had come out of the basement, Paul and Scott had to adjust their eyes to the brightness of the lights in the building lobby as well as the sunlight that was coming in through the windows. As they reached the elevator that would take them up to Heather's apartment, Paul could see George Fox and a small group of policemen outside the building lining the sidewalk. They seemed to be preoccupied and were looking around the area around the building, as though they believed that Paul and Scott had gone outside and were making their way down the street rather than hiding safely inside the large high-rise apartment building.
As the elevator doors opened, Paul sighed with relief, and he practically shoved his son inside to safety. Once the doors closed, he exhaled slowly, his tightened fists relaxing. "Heather, how did you know that they would still be outside looking for us?"
Heather smiled, but said nothing. When the elevator reached the 10th floor, she got out and indicated that they should follow her. Once they had reached a door, she pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked the door. "This is where I live, come inside and we can talk."
Paul nodded, and both he and Scott entered the apartment. The living room was filled with old furniture, but seemed to be a very warm and relaxing place. Heather tossed the key on the small dresser that stood near the door and showed them where they could sit down. Once they were seated in the room, she walked into the small kitchen in search for something to give her guests to eat. "We want to thank you for what you have done for us, Heather," Paul said from his place in the living room.
Heather came out of the kitchen some minutes later, a tray in her hands. It was loaded down with cheese, crackers, and pieces of meat. "I don't cook very well, but I have these," she offered shyly and placed the tray in the middle of the coffee table in front of them. She returned to the kitchen and retrieved a few glasses and some lemonade. These things, she put on a second tray and walked out of the kitchen carrying everything.
As she entered the living room with the tray, she got tripped up on the edge of the carpet and the three glasses on the tray began to wobble. She reached over to steady them, but one of them got bumped by her hand, fell off the tray, and shattered on the linoleum floor. Heather watched unable to do anything, and after a few moments, she began to cry once the crash resonated throughout the room. "Oh no, oh no..." she repeated over and over as she covered her face with her hands.
"Heather, what is it?" Paul asked standing up and making his way over to where she was standing. Fragments of glass were all over the floor, and she uncovered her face and looked across the room as though she had lost something more valuable than just an ordinary drinking glass.
"The glass, it's my mother's favorite glass, and I broke it. She will be so mad at me about this," Heather placed the two unaffected glasses on the table and walked towards the broken one. "I don't know what to do."
Scott looked at his father, a question in his eyes, and finally he spoke, "Dad?"
Paul nodded, "I know, I have to help her."
"You're kidding right? You're actually going to expose yourself over a glass?" Scott asked, disbelief shadowing his features.
"I'm not kidding," he said softly as he reached inside his pocket, pulled out his sphere, and stood up. As he approached where she was on the ground, he could see her shoulders shaking as she cried. Rather than judge her reaction over the broken glass, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder. When he felt her arm under his touch, he realized that, to her, this broken glass was like a symbol of some kind of impending broken trust between her and her parents. "No, Heather, don't cry, I'm going to help you make things right."
She looked up at him, the tears were streaming down her cheeks, "you are?"
Paul nodded, "yes." She reached her hand out towards where the fragments of the broken glass were lying, but Paul grabbed her hand in his, "no, wait, you don't want to cut yourself." She nodded as he continued to speak, one of his hands still tightly holding hers. "Would you be afraid if I tried to fix the glass with this?" he held the sphere up so she could see the small silver object that was resting in his free hand.
Heather shook her head, her acceptance of Paul's words making her seem so innocent and childlike that he couldn't help but smile.
He looked down at the sphere and began to concentrate on it as she watched. The fragments of the glass came together slowly, and Heather watched as the blue light filled the room. Her attention diverted onto the fragments of glass as they appeared to be dancing around the room bathed in the blue light radiating from Paul's hand. The pieces of glass came together in a wonderful spectacle, and as the pieces seemed to be moving around the room, Paul released her hands, and she enthusiastically clapped them together and laughed.
When the glass was once more whole, she looked up at him and watched as he made the light begin to fade, and once it had vanished, Heather approached the newly repaired glass, picked it up in her hands, and cradled it as though it was a fragile baby. After a few seconds, she looked up at him and her voice came out as though she was awed by him. "Magic?" she asked as she placed the glass on the table next to the two other glasses. "Like the 'Wizard of Oz'? Are you the Wizard, Paul?"
Scott smiled when he heard the analogy she had made about Paul. He couldn't comprehend how much courage this woman had, but he watched as she slowly approached his father completely calm and unafraid of what Paul really was. Did she know or understand what it was she had witnessed, he wondered. Apparently she hadn't fully realized what had taken place, and if she had, then she's probably one of only a few people who didn't react to Paul in fear.
Paul shook his head and returned the sphere to his pocket as she came over to him, reached out, and took his hands in hers. She squeezed them tightly in her own, and at one point kissed them as though he was so much more to her than a new friend. He looked down at her calm face, and smiled gently.
"Not magic?" she asked still holding his hands in her own, her voice not even wavering. It seemed as though she knew much more about Paul and Scott than any of them had realized before.
"No, Heather, it's not magic," Paul answered softly. "I'm not capable of making magic, I can only do some things people here cannot, but I wouldn't harm anyone."
She nodded as though she was deep in concentration about what she had seen, but rather than saying anything, she released his hands, and looked at him. If she was confused then it was not evident in her face. She appeared to accept every word Paul said as the absolute truth.
"Are you afraid of me, or of what you saw me do?" Paul asked gently.
She shook her head releasing his hands, "no, but I think you showed me a piece of who you are."
Paul nodded acknowledging her words, "yes, that's the light you saw."
"Then that means you're special, even more special than me," Heather said and smiled.
Paul reached out and took one of her hands in his, "but you are special, Heather, a very special and unique person."
Heather looked at Scott who simply nodded. "Yeah, but you know what? Both of you are also special. And what you did may not be magic, but who you are is." She sat down on the sofa and Paul sat next to her. She reached over and rubbed her hand against his cheek. "I won't ever forget you, because you helped me not to be afraid."
Scott looked at her, his eyes sparkling, "you know who he is, don't you?"
Heather nodded, "he's from farther away then Oz, and he's a light in this world. But, you're also a part of that, Scott, because you're his son. Like both my sons are a part of me." Heather smiled and reached over and grabbed a glass and poured the lemonade in it. This she handed to Paul.
Paul accepted the glass and smiled weakly at the woman. "I've met many people since I returned to your world, Heather, but I've never met anyone quite like you. If you don't believe you're special, I'd be the first to tell you that you are."
She smiled.
o O o
The afternoon passed quickly, and Paul couldn't help but notice that Heather seemed to be genuinely calm about having them in her home. Throughout the time they spent together, she would periodically look out the window to see if Fox and the police were still outside. But, then as the sun began to sink behind the trees, Paul couldn't help but notice that she seemed to grow sadder and sadder by the minute.
Once the stars began to appear in the dark sky, she approached the window one last time and looked outside. The police were now gone, and she knew that now was the time for her to get them out of the apartment and safely away from the area. She returned to the room and spoke, "I wish you could always be here with me, but now you have to go, and I'm sad to say good-bye."
Paul stood up and Scott followed suit. Heather put on her jacket and grabbed the keychain off the dresser. As the two of them waked towards the door, she reached out and grabbed Paul's hand. "If I squeeze your hand three times like this," she squeezed his hand quickly, "you must run as fast as you can in the direction we go. You understand?"
Paul nodded, "yes. Will that take us to the train station?"
Heather nodded, "I want you to be safe and I know that you will be as long as you stay away from that man. People will help you, and they will care for you, like I do." She wrapped her arms around Paul and held him tightly in her embrace. Once she broke the embrace with Paul, she embraced Scott. Once she released him, she spoke, "don't do anything else for me, Paul, Scott, you have already done so much."
Paul looked at her questionably, but before he could say another word, she grabbed his hand, and opened the door indicating that it was now time to leave.
o O o
Ten minutes later, Heather and her two special friends were walking along the darkened street in the direction of the train station. "If you go this way, you will meet the train. They run every 10 minutes to the city center, and every 15 minutes the other direction. You will not miss it, it smells of car fumes and popcorn." She stopped speaking and looked around and noticed that they were now walking near a small park which was surrounded by a crop of trees.
The sounds of the trees rustling in the breeze caused her to look around the area skeptically. Something wasn't right, and she couldn't understand what it was about this place, but it seemed too quiet, and this frightened her. She reached over and grabbed Scott's hand, and pulled him quietly towards his father.
At that moment, she squeezed Paul's hand three times as she had done at her apartment, and released his hand abruptly. Paul looked into her eyes, unsure of what she wanted them to do. "Run away, as fast as you can!" she whispered under her breath reminding him of what she had said at the apartment, and watched as the two of them took off from where she was standing.
Seconds passed, and George Fox ran up to her and grabbed her arm. "Where are they?" he demanded.
"Who?" she asked, her question annoying him, but she could see Paul and Scott running in the distance. She knew that they would reach the train safely, the police were still standing around where she and Fox were. She could only make out the silohettes of two figures running in the distance.
"I could have you up on charges, you know?" he said, "now tell me where they are."
Heather looked at Fox and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't know why you say that to me, I haven't done anything wrong."
"What did Paul Forrester do to you?" Fox demanded.
Heather looked at him curiously, "nothing, I remember there was a blue light and a glass, if that's what you want to know. Have you ever heard the story of the 'Man in the Moon'?"
Fox looked at her as though she was nuts, and sighed deeply as he looked into her green eyes. After a few minutes, one of the policemen looked at the agent. "Come on Mr. Fox, leave her alone, it's obvious she doesn't have all her ducks in a row," he said. He twirled his finger around his temple as an indicator that he considered her to be crazy.
Heather looked at the policeman, "I do have all my ducks in a row, they're just not as fast at swimming as yours are." She walked calmly away from both men. When she was far enough away from them, she took off running as fast as she could in the direction of the train station. Every so often, she'd glance back to see if Fox was following her, but similar to what had happened at the apartment building, she found that she could outrun him as well as all the policemen that accompanied him. She smiled to herself when she thought about the rewards that came with her winning this particular race.
o O o
Paul and Scott reached the train station safely and checked the schedule. "I don't get it, Dad. What did she mean when she said that we shouldn't do anything else for her?"
"I don't know," Paul answered, "but maybe we'll get a chance to ask her, she just arrived here." He pointed and saw her coming towards where they were standing.
"Hi," she said once she reached them.
"Is anyone following you?" Paul asked.
She shook her head, "I won that race, Paul."
He smiled, "Thank you, Heather."
She nodded as the train pulled up. "You must go now," she said softly.
"Wait, I have to ask you what you meant back at your apartment, when you said we shouldn't help you anymore." Paul asked, but before she could offer an answer, they could hear the plodding steps of the police coming towards the platform where they were standing.
"Go," she whispered knowing that Fox would soon be there and they wouldn't make good on their escape, "you must go now, it's time."
Paul nodded and he and Scott started walking towards the open door leading to the safety of the train's interior. They turned around just before getting on board when they heard Fox coming through the group of police, he was shouting, waving his gun, and they could see that he had the weapon readied, and was aiming it at Paul. Before any words could be uttered, Heather stepped between Paul and the weapon as Fox pulled the trigger, and the bullet entered her arm right near the shoulder.
She began to cry as she sank to the ground, but managed to turn and face Paul one last time. He was standing in the doorway of the train frozen and was not sure what he should do, run into the safety of the train, or stay there and help Heather.
"Go!" she screamed at him as the pain from the wound shot up her arm. Using her free arm, she waved Paul frantically into the train.
Paul was still standing in the doorway of the train, unable to move, but after a split second, Scott grabbed his arm, and pulled him into the train right as the doors were closing. Once the train pulled away from the platform and was gone, Heather looked up at George Fox, who was standing nearby and holding a smoking gun.
Fox tossed the gun to the ground and looked down at the woman as she gripped her arm trying to ease the pain. Seconds passed, and he sat on the ground next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. When he looked up and saw the other policemen just standing around, he sighed, looked at them and spoke, "what are you waiting for, you idiots? Call an ambulance!" Finally, he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and pressed it against the wound on the woman's arm. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his gray eyes shadowing guilt.
Heather looked up at the stars and after a few seconds back at the agent sitting near her. "I know," she smiled mysteriously, closed her eyes, concentrated on something, and after a few seconds, the wound on her arm vanished, and she once again opened her eyes.
"Who are you, really?" Fox asked her, once he had witnessed seeing her wound disappearing. His hand was still pressed against her arm, and he finally moved it away and gasped when he saw that the skin was no longer damaged as it had been some moments before. "I thought you were a woman with a mental deficiency," he finally stammered.
"I am," she answered calmly, "I just happen to have a guardian angel."
"No, it's more than that," Fox argued. "What are you?"
"I'm Paul's friend," she said softly and pointed to a star. "See that star up there?"
"Yes."
"That is the world of my great great great grandfather. It's also the sister world to Paul's home world," Heather said softly. She stood up and offered her hand to Fox.
"Sister world?" Fox asked looking at her strangely, but accepted her hand and got to his feet. "I don't understand."
"It's of the same planetary group," she answered trying to explain it to him. "You see, people like me and Paul wouldn't hurt anyone, we're just different. I can do some things, but nothing that would harm anyone. That's how I'm like Paul."
"You mean, you're like Forrester?" Fox asked.
"No, I'm not like Paul, I'm different from him. His people are very peaceful, and full of knowledge, but mine are always learning something new, like you, and the people here. I am a direct descendent of my great great great grandfather's people, which is why I'm considered different from the people here."
"But, what about your parents, the basement, and all those boxes?" Fox asked.
"If you have to ask a question like that, then I'd have to answer that I am like Scott, a person of two cultures living here and trying to compensate for it. I don't take anything away being like you, but I don't take away being like my other culture either," Heather said softly.
"Is that why you're able to heal yourself?" Fox asked.
"I didn't heal myself, my great great great grandfather did. When I closed my eyes, I was asking him to help me, and he did," Heather said calmly, but after an instant, she blinked, and what she had been telling him seemed to be gone, because her voice suddenly changed, and her words were once more slurred and carefully selected. "Now, I have to go home, my mom and dad come home tomorrow, and I have to finish cleaning out the basement."
"How did he do that?" Fox asked.
"Do what?" Heather looked at Fox curiously.
"You said your great great great grandfather cured a gunshot wound, don't you remember?" Fox asked.
When Heather gave him a blank stare, Fox shrugged his shoulders. What's the point, this woman's a little nuts, he thought to himself, I must have imagined the entire conversation. Finally, he offered her a small smile, "good luck getting your basement cleaned." He walked slowly away from where she was standing, all the while shaking his head.
"Thank you," Heather said and made her way back in the direction of the apartment building where her parents lived. Her hand constantly on the necklace she wore around her neck as her voice began filling the park. She has started singing one of her favorite songs, "twinkle twinkle little star..."
o O o
Paul was still standing in the doorway of the train when they pulled into the next town. Scott looked at him curiously as they stood, about to get off.
"Dad?" Scott asked finally once they got off the train.
"I think I understand now what happened," Paul said, "remember back at Heather's apartment when she said to me that we shouldn't do anything else for her?"
"Yeah, you asked her about that. It was right before Fox showed up at the train station," Scott answered.
"I think she sensed deep down inside that something was going to happen tonight. But, now I feel so badly that she was shot trying to protect us and I couldn't do anything for her," Paul said sadly as he walked slowly next to his son.
"I don't know what made me pull you onto the train, and I never thought that I had that kind of strength. After the train left, I was thinking that we should have stayed there and helped her. Then there was something that was making me reach out and grab your arm, like a force or something. It was as if someone was there and they wanted me to get you safely onto the train," Scott said softly.
Paul nodded, but suddenly he stopped walking. About twenty feet in front of them, a white light shone in the distance, and after a few minutes, it suddenly covered them for a couple of seconds, bathing them in light, and just as quickly, the light vanished and they were once again standing on the road alone in the darkness. Paul looked at his son, "did you understand what just happened?" he finally asked once the light was gone.
"No, what was that light, it was weird?" Scott asked answering his father's question with one of his own.
"That light was Heather's great great great grandfather. He comes from a star not far from mine, and he came to us to tell us that Heather's OK, and that he had healed her injuries," Paul said.
"You mean, she's something like me, a part of her is also of another world?"
"A very small part of her is, yes. I think because of the way she is, she is open to that part of herself which is different," Paul said.
"When you told her she was special, then you weren't kidding, we just didn't seem to realize just how special she really is," Scott offered. "I have to admit though, there was something about her that made me feel comfortable, even from the first time we met her."
Paul nodded, "yes, you're right, but she's also not fully aware of what she can do. Her grandfather is always watching over her, and he protects her from harm."
"Like a guardian angel or something?" Scott asked.
Paul nodded once they reached the small county inn on the side of the road.
"Dad, I have only one other question, if her grandfather protected her from harm, then what about Fox? Will he be able to use that against her and start treating her like he treats us?" Scott asked.
"I think her grandfather has taken care of that. When he vanished tonight, his influence on Heather's thoughts about him reentered her subconscious," Paul tried to explain.
"In other words, she started using her innocence again as though nothing had happened?" Scott asked.
Paul simply nodded.
"Boy I'd have loved to been the fly on the wall during the conversation right after her grandfather had vanished," Scott said grinning impishly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean it would have been really funny to overhear what was said after Heather's injury was healed and after her grandfather had left. I'm sure Fox wouldn't have been able to comprehend it if Heather had started singing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' right after Fox had started asking her about what had just happened on the platform."
Paul smiled knowingly, but after a few moments, he spoke, "well, Scott, that's exactly what did happen."
"Really?" Scott asked. "Then that means..."
"...yes, that means you understood the communication from Heather's grandfather," Paul finished for him.
Scott said nothing more, but his eyes brightened indicating that he was pleased with what he had been able to understand. Together they walked inside the motel lobby to get a room for the night.
o O o
Dear Reader,
This story was written after I got inspired by a documentary on the international competition of 'Special Olympics' and the special kinds of people who put these competitions together as well as compete in them. This story was written because I was personally inspired by a young man I met one afternoon on a train when my husband, Sven, and I were on our way home for Christmas in 1997. The essay is entitled 'A Belief in Angels' and is in the Zine 'The Wanderer From the Stars' if you would like to read it. This tells what happened that day, and how the event effected me. This story is an outgrowth from that event and if I had to choose who this story is to be dedicated to, it'd be that anonymous young man that I met in that Hamburg bound train on December 23, 1997.
Yvette Jessen
March 8,1999
THE ENDWritten by Yvette Jessen. If you have any comments on this story please E-mail them.