THAT FALL

The agents disturbingly knew the location of Andre’s office and relegated Wanda and Andre to following them. Fortunately, no purple frog women or cavemen were in sight. Jones slid into the chair before Andre’s desk, drawling, “We should remind you, Doctor Antoine, that what you and your staff have seen today is confidential and a subject of national security.”

“Oui, bien sur,” Andre said, tapping a pen on the desk.

Brown placed the chair from the outer office next to Jones, sat and said. “We’ll take her and the Reynolds’ pretender around ten tomorrow morning.”

“Not around,” Andre said. “What time, exactly?”

Brown said, “Ten. Perhaps we could have some privacy, Doctor?”.

Andre said, “Nurse Vasquez, I’ll brief you as needed. Please check on the patients.” Wanda understood the message in Andre’s eyes. Retreating and closing the door behind her, she took a seat in her office. Andre had switched on the intercom. She could hear every word.

She could also hear Andre sliding files around his desk as he said, “This is Reynolds’ penitentiary paperwork.”

Jones deep voice was easily identifiable. “These transfer orders are forged. This isn’t penitentiary stationary. See the seal?” Paper waving.

Andre said, “It’s not imprinted.”

“Exactly. So, apparently, Reynolds’ team planned to have this decoy planted. Whoever he is, we’ll be taking him as well tomorrow.”

Andre sat back in his chair, the transfer order bending in his outstretched hand. “Is taking the boy necessary?”

“I would think so.” Jones picked another piece of lint off his trousers. “And we’ll be taking your patient, Bergstrom.”

“That was never discussed.”

Jones did not respond immediately, but then drawled, “You understand we’re having, let’s say, some curious phenomena. The sonic booms and now the strange, random lightning strikes.”

“Which are anything but random. I was at a location attacked last night.”

“The sonic and electrical activity are related, but merely weather phenomena caused by solar winds.”

“Ah…”

“We’re concerned the other visions–seeing these ships–is a mind-altering gas of some sort. Very serious considering the timing.”

Andre said, “Nurse Vasquez insists Krigare exposed my staff and other patients to something contagious.” Wanda strained to hear the response.

“Krigare’s not suffering from a virus. Or the mind-altering gas.”

Papers shuffling against the desk. Andre asked, “Is she human?”

“Why do you ask that, Doctor?”

“Her CT. Look at this scan.” The sound of papers sliding across the desk. Andre added, “And you saw the EEG activity.”

CT film bending. Throat clearing. Jones said, “Doctor, you’re not as susceptible to sensationalism as Joe the Plumber, are you?” Laughter from only Jones. “Krigare’s the subject of a failed government study. As you know, Krigare complained of haunting nightmares. She took part in a sleep study and is suffering long-term negative effects.” Another long pause. “Explaining to Joe the Plumber that these phenomena are unrelated is very difficult. Which is why we cut all communication planet-wide. Can’t have the rabble chatting on Instagram or watching some talking head reporting another rumor.”

Brown squeaked, “What you see in that CT Scan is swelling. If you do additional tests, which you really don’t have time to do, you’d make that determination.” Another pause. An intake of breath. “As you can see, the sleep study resulted in serious symptoms.”

“Like her ability to crack cement walls and explode people?” Andre asked.

A long silence. “Doctor Antoine, you forget yourself.”

Andre chuckled. “I forget nothing, Agent. Perhaps, you are unaware of how many PhDs I have since I left them hanging on my office wall back at the hospital. Don’t pour crap in my ear. This is no sleep study. Her brain is not swollen.”

“Doctor–”

“Stop. Just stop. Does this line of bullshit work on others? You don’t have the common decency to respect me enough to give me the truth. So, fine. I see enough.”

“—It’s classified–”

“And I don’t care. I really don’t. I don’t care how you discovered Krigare–and Reynolds or whoever he is–were admitted here. Or that you strolled directly to my office as if you’d been here before. And I don’t care about your feedback loops and this stasis or your lies. I don’t care who you really are. I merely want to understand enough to protect my staff and my patients.”

“They’ll be fine if you sedate Krigare every three to four hours until we return.”

“At ten tomorrow? Confirm that.”

“I can. At ten.”

“Because I’m not Joe the Plumber, you pompous prick. And I can plainly see what’s a hoax and what’s not. My oath to my country secures my silence. For whatever this is. If it is a subject of national security. But my patience with you is thin. Anything more I need to know besides she shouldn’t have water and must be sedated? Give me all the information so I have no more surprises and so none–not one–of my precious people is harmed in the next twenty,” a pause, “twenty-three hours. If you knew she was here, you and your genius people should have told Lansing to restrict water, but you didn’t. It slipped your mind, perhaps, while you were dealing with your atmospheric phenomena and your alien spaceship video hoaxes, hmm? But your delay to brief us properly about this patently non-human patient resulted in Lansing being forever hospitalized. Every bone in his body is broken.”

“From what I understand, he’s dead,” Jones said.

Wanda covered her mouth with her hand and squeezed her eyes shut.

Andre, without comment, said, “Just tick off anything in that rat-brain of yours and inform me how to secure this patient.” Andre was likely starting to sweat. And his face was probably red. Wanda smiled.

“I cannot give you details–”

“Just give me a list.”

“—Or reasons–”

“Just a list,” Andre demanded again.

Pause. Jones said, slowly, “She shouldn’t have water. You’ve seen how she becomes… different.” A pause. “Don’t allow her to shower. She’ll drink the water.”

“We can provide the sponge baths we have been providing.”

“Keep giving her juice. Lots of cane sugar. It restricts her mental abilities.”

“Sugar?” Andre asked as Wanda would have.

“Yes,” Jones said. “Keep her away from sunlight. Have no one talk to her.” A pause. “No puppies, kitties or situation comedy television.”

“We’ll keep her in the observation room. As you recall, it has no windows and she’ll have no contact with anyone.”

“Good. Use the same prescription for the pretender in thirty-six.” A pause. Jones adding, “And one other thing. If you should discover Reynolds–the real Reynolds—keep the two away from each other.”

“Reynolds and Krigare?”

“Yes. They should not… well, they should never be near each other,” Brown said.

“Is he a subject of this sleep study as well?” Andre asked.

Jones said, “He’s just like her. If they get together, they could, let’s say, share the delusion.”

“That would be bad,” Andre stated.

“Terrible.”

She heard tense farewells and Brown and Jones passed her desk without a word to her. Andre appeared at his office doorway and Wanda let him envelop her in his arms.

She mumbled against his chest, “There was a roach outside the observation room, Andre.”

“I know, I saw it. That woman upstairs is not human.”

“I’m believing it….” She raised her head, asking, “What are we going to do? Just let them take her? I don’t think Reynolds will allow that.”

Andre brushed a stray hair from her face. “You look frantic.”

“I am frantic. And I was certain we were all suffering from some virus. Some delusional illness. But after seeing that EEG. And her voice....”

Andre released her and returned to his desk, pointing at the window. “That’s an alien spaceship. She’s not human. And,” he sat, his chair groaning, “I expect Reynolds is also not human. Or Dave. Navin. Whoever he is.”

“Well, that’s comforting.” She sat in the guest chair in which Jones had not been. Something about him made her feel dirty. Then she realized that Brown had been in the chair she chose. She needed a shower.

“I believe Reynolds: Jones and Brown are not federal agents. I don’t know who they are. And can’t even imagine why they want Bergstrom.”

“You heard her last night. She claims she’s involved. Why are you looking at me like that? What are you planning?”

He raised his hand to his chest. “Moi? Nothing.”

“Andre?”

He sighed. “They’re not human, but they seem much more trustworthy than those two suited rats. Reynolds kept his promise. He observed and guarded the woman he claims is his wife. I know she’s not human and I don’t need this CT Scan for that.” He picked up and tossed the CT film. “Humans don’t glow gold and pinkish silver.” He paused and rubbed his forehead. “I thought we might be suffering from hallucinations. The glowing people, the spaceships…. But why the shared delusion? And when I don’t understand something, I use my instinct. And my instinct tells me to change the approach.”

“By?” she asked.

“By helping that woman–that being–in the observation room.”

“How? Giving her water?”

“Lots of water. Sunlight. Music. Laughter. Let’s wake her up and cause all kinds of chaos.”

Wanda and Andre found the Longwood occupants at Krigare’s bedside. Reynolds meditated at her bedside. With arms crossed and a grave expression, Dave stood at the foot of the bed. Josey lurked in the shadowy corner of the room. The cat was curled on Krigare’s chest and Castania was checking readings on the machine they called a frishin. Jack and Bergstrom chatted, in the observation room while Lindsey tinkered with her cell phone.

“I want to talk to everyone. Where’s Oren?” Andre asked.

“On one, checking Katie and Brian,” Lindsey offered.

“Dave, where’s Katro?” Andre asked.

“On assignment,” Dave murmured, not taking his eyes from Reynolds. “And call me Navin.”

“I have a plan to wake her,” Andre said.

“Our doctors will attend to her. We are leaving as soon as Navin confirms our portal is ready,” Reynolds said.

“Portal?” Andre asked.

“Yes, doctor. Several locations on this planet are… thin. One is at the bottom of your pool.”

“So, that’s why you are all here?” Jack asked, interrupting.

“Yes, Jack Geddies.” He paused, passing his fingers over Krigare’s forehead.

“I knew when you were always sneaking around that pool that you were up to something, Dave,” Josey said.

Navin turned, his eyes a deeper blue, and he snarled, “I am not the fiction Dave Johnson. I am Navin Dentri. Son of Onnage Dentri.”

Josey stood, her hands on her hips. “So, an alien? Like them?”

He turned from the bedside and faced her. “Like them, yes. From them, yes. But not an alien like you think.”

Josey snapped, “Let’s see you glow, then.”

He turned away and said, “I do not have time for your games. My mother is fading, Josey.”

“Fading?” Andre asked.

Reynolds raised his eyes. “Dying is not possible. We fade.”

“If she does, it is your fault,” Navin said.

Reynolds stood, seemingly almost eight feet tall, red-blazing eyes. Wanda could swear she saw horns on his head. She blinked hard as Reynolds raged, “You dare accuse me?”

“Back down, old one,” Navin said. He also seemed taller, broader. His eyes glowed an emerald green. “You and I will come to terms after. Not now.”

Wanda blinked, and both beings seemed to return to their original appearances as muscular, blond guys standing over a bedside.

Catania stopped her hopping about and snapped, “The two of you need to stop all this posturing. We need that portal operational.”

“So, you’re leaving?” Andre asked.

“As soon as the portal charges,” Reynolds said. “It offers a safe way to move her.”

Reynolds was at least ten inches taller and at least a hundred pounds wider than Andre, but Andre pressed his hand against Reynold’s chest. “I need to speak with you before you storm off,” Andre said. “Hear me out.”

“Speak.”

Andre explained how he planned to use the intelligence from the agents to wake Krigare. His enthusiasm inspired Reynolds’ smile and Wanda’s skipping heartbeat. “I think we can do her some good. Help her. And you have time, yes?” Andre asked. When Reynolds agreed, Andre requested that someone help Angie shower and change into clean clothing. Lindsey offered to help, but Castania insisted she could manage the task. The others volunteered for various jobs and scampered away to accomplish them.

As Wanda turned to leave, Josey approached, uncharacteristically timid. She asked, “You’re coming to the party, Nurse Vasquez?”

“Yes,” Wanda said. “We’re all meeting in the solarium. You can bring the music.”

“Sure, I’ll meet you down there,” Josey said as she sauntered towards the stairwell.

Wanda’s curiosity why Josey seemed so awkward faded when Wanda reached the solarium. Oren was tucking a blanket around Katie’s legs and Brian was already drawing pictures for Jack to curate. Sam the Cat lounged on the window ledge. Lindsey continued to struggle with her cell phone while Josey set up the music. Wanda said, “Let’s try classical music. Something an older white woman would like.”

“Doesn’t she do yoga and stuff?” Lindsey asked. “Maybe some spa stuff. Or meditation music? If I could get my phone to work, I could play a bunch of that. But someone threw it against a wall and I’ll have to file an insurance claim to fix the screen. I can’t even get the video to work at all.”

Reynolds appeared at the doorway, pushing the catatonic Krigare in a wheelchair. He said, “Metal.”

“Excuse me?” Wanda asked.

“She likes Earth heavy metal. Or alternative.” Reynold’s flashed a just-bit-a-lemon expression of disapproval.

Castania entered the room and added, “The more percussion, the better.”

Josey swiped the screen on her music device. “I have a whole playlist of metal.” Noticing Oren shaking his head, Josey selected a classical station.

Wanda knelt beside Krigare. A new hair tie secured her clean, long curls which dangled around her neck. Her golden-brown eyes were clear but stared at nothing. Wanda said, “She’s sure seems to be mentally catatonic.” She touched one of Krigare’s dangling curls. “Her hair looks better.”

Castania smoothed a curl behind Krigare’s ear. “She would not be pleased with her appearance. And this hair is a poor imitation of her true hair.”

Andre listened to Krigare’s heart. “She’s at ten beats per minute. If she were human, she’d be dead.”

Reynolds stiffened at the mention of Reyna’s death, but only said, “Her doctor received the reports and thinks this gathering might be good for her.”

“Can you explain your version of this madness? Because those two suits gave me nothing but bullshit. And I’m inclined to trust your bullshit over theirs,” Andre said.

Oren added, “She’s not going to blow up anyone else, is she?”

Reynolds responded with a surprising frankness. “I will tell you only what she would permit me to tell you. We were in contact with our people through ring transmitters. The beings those agents work for sent a pulse to scramble our signal. That pulse destroyed the transmitters and continues to affect our people, including Renya. They forgot who they really are and phase—shift in and out of their pretended roles.”

“I told them all that,” Castania said, positioning herself on the windowsill.

Reynolds paused as if he was considering saying something more but remained silent and backed the wheelchair to the window so Krigare was facing into the room. The sunlight accentuated the gold and caramel highlights in her hair. He said, “In this state, she cannot control her abilities. But I should be able to keep her from harming anyone. Or herself.”

Wanda said, “I’ve never seen a patient emit a silvery-pink glow. Or a gold one.”

“Her light is so much nicer than mine.” Reynolds sat next to Krigare. He twirled one of her curls around his finger.

Andre leaned on a chair. “So, this signal, the sonic booms, the lightning–”

Reynolds anticipated, interrupting, “Not atmospheric phenomenon. It is war.”

Wanda leaned closer, asking, “So, the lightning?”

“Was not lightning.” Reynold’s jaw tightened. “Those were missiles.” He seemed to turn inward and then said, “I should be with my team–and have risked much to be here. For her.”

“Why’s she so important?”

“Aside from being my wife? You would not believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Andre insisted.

“She is the boss. My boss. Everyone’s boss.”

Andre raised both his hands. “Aren’t all wives the boss of the husband, eh!”

“Damn right,” Wanda added.

Reynolds whispered, “It is a little more than that.”

Wanda’s mind reeled. Coming to terms with the fact the visitors were aliens, she struggled against her own judgement. “I always thought aliens had big eyes and long, gangly arms.”

“Only those from Sirius,” Castania said.

Watching Reynolds caress and whisper to the unconscious woman made Wanda scramble for something kind to say. She blurted, “She is thinking of you. I mean, she named her cat Sam.”

Krigare blinked and whispered, “Sam…” Disappointment spread across Reynolds’ face when the cat leapt from the window ledge to Krigare’s lap. She stroked the cat’s back, but her eyes remained fixed on nothing and nothing.

Lindsey approached using her annoying counseling voice. “Angie? How are you feeling?”

Reynolds commanded, “Perhaps we can all use her real name?”

Lindsey frowned. “I don’t know it.”

“Everyone call her Renya.” The guests repeated the name. Merely doing so seemed to cause Angie–Renya–to blink several times. Reynolds added, “Do not mention her fictional life as a professor or any of that. And, well, ask her about her son. And her husband.”

Lindsey said, “Renya? It’s Lindsey. How are you today?” Renya did not respond. Neither did Angie. Lindsey seemed not to know how to proceed. She withdrew and glued her eyes to her phone.

The movement of the chair seemed to jar Katie Travis from her own state. She raised her head and yelled, “Two angels! Right here!”

Renya raised her head and seemed to focus on Katie. Sam the Cat pushed his head against Renya’s stomach. She shivered and robotically pet the cat.

Josey selected an instrumental, jazzy song. Katie started to hum.

Reynolds said, “Play some alternative. Or heavy metal.”

Oren winced. “Not really.”

Castania said, “AC/DC is a good choice.”

Josey selected AC/DC, Back in Black. Wanda liked that one. Apparently, so did Renya, who took a deep breath and asked for water. Wanda filled a cup and brought it to Reynolds who helped Renya drink.

As she swallowed, she sputtered, “One-hundred seventy-six hours….”

Reynolds placed the empty cup on the table and whispered to her. Renya sat upright and nodded, closing her eyes. When she opened them, Angie Krigare was gone. The woman in the wheelchair, assertively waved for Brian to approach. “Brian? Let me see what you are drawing.” Everyone in the room stared at the transformed person. Renya’s skin had brightened. Her eyes were wide and bright. The cat on her lap purred loudly and rolled onto his back.

Brian ran to her. “It’s that cat. I like him.”

Renya smiled at Brian’s picture of a black cat with three green eyes. She said, “I like him, too. His name is Sam.” Renya turned slightly, gesturing to Reynolds. “Like this big guy here.”

Brian returned her smile. “You’re so, you’re so… beautiful.”

“So are you!” She touched his arm and Brian’s eyes closed in bliss.

As if he had found a puppy under the tree on Christmas morning, Brian opened his eyes and said, “I’ll wake up, too. Soon. Right?”

She said, still smiling, “Right.”

“I need to make more pictures, right?”

“Right. Make one for Nurse Vasquez. She needs as many smiles as she can get.”

Wanda’s mouth hung open as Renya beckoned for Eleanor.

Eleanor stood as quickly as her legs would permit, shuffling towards the being in the wheelchair. “Yes?”

“I will keep my promise.”

Eleanor accepted Renya’s offered hand. “I’d like you to come back to us.”

Renya withdrew her hand and stroked her cat. A silver-pink glow began to form around her, and Reynolds’ own gold glow followed. The two lights began to merge and rival the sunlight from the window. Reynolds covered Renya’s hand with his own, and the two radiant patterns exploded and filled the room. They locked eyes for what seemed hours. Wanda broke her gaze at the glowing pair to look at the effect as Lindsey struggled to capture a video. Elenore started to laugh. Josey leaned back and let the light flow over her. Jack smiled ear to ear, leaning back in his chair. Both Andre and Oren were smiling. Katie sang an unintelligible song and Brian colored enthusiastically. Wanda felt relieved of the nausea for the first time that day.

Breaking their eye contact, both Reynolds and Renya turned to Wanda. Renya asked, “Wanda? Can you come here for a moment?”

“Yes, Angie–I mean Renya?” The name felt like spicy, foreign food on her tongue. Although she felt something pulling her towards them, to enter their light seemed dangerous. Renya, narrowed her eyes and seemed to take stock of Wanda. Wanda asked, “Do you need more water?”

“No.” Renya’s resonant voice echoed off the walls. Wanda heard no, no, no, no…. Renya added, “I do not have long and will slip away again. Things are very disappointing.”

Wanda looked from Renya to Reynolds. “I don’t understand. You seem better.”

She closed her eyes and whispered, “A prison of my own making.” She opened her eyes again and said, “But I am fighting through. In the meantime,” she said, reaching her hand towards Wanda, “I want to help you.”

“Help me? Help me how?”

“With the baby.”

Wanda frowned, then. Enough was enough. Who had the big mouth? Was this some joke? “I don’t understand.”

“Wanda. Come here.”

Wanda moved closer to Renya’s outstretched fingertips, unable to resist. Her desires to scream, to curse, to question, were all repressed. Trapped in the light, pulled towards Renya’s three fingers, Wanda strained with all her strength to step away. The light touched her skin, warm, it tickled her skin like a bubble bath.

“The process was started. I can finish it.”

“What process?” Wanda could finally ask, but continued to move closer, sensing the inviting, warm pink and gold light. Her body was compelled to bathe in it; her mind resisted.

Brian jumped behind Wanda, announcing, “I made the picture in your head, Renya. The one with Wanda and the baby!” As he waved the paper, he clumsily bumped Wanda into Renya’s fingertips.

The intense champagne gold light electrocuted Wanda. Her back arched as she levitated from the floor, only her toes touching the ground. Her hair cascaded from its bun and stood on end as her name tag flew from her scrub shirt. She hung, weightless, with the soundless voltage passing through her skin, her muscles, her bones. Her other senses failed her and all she could feel were thousands of electrified knives piercing her abdomen. She dropped to the tile floor and lost consciousness, so did not see Oren pull Brian away, or Brian’s drawing of a starry night and a dark-haired woman cradling a swaddled baby float to the floor. Andre rushed forward, unable to reach Wanda through the pool of light. Wanda did not see Andre straining or hear Katie singing the first line of Happy Birthday over and over. She did not hear Josey cry out or Oren exclaim, “Dear God.” The riff of Back in Black faded into Wanda’s haze as every cell phone in the room and the television came buzzing alive. To Wanda, all was silent as the blinding light drowned her.