Chapter 31
“Come on, get in the car,” Sam B commanded as he opened the passenger side door.
What a damn mess this was. This was by far the last thing he expected to find when he got here, that was for sure.
The woman who’d been helping Sam A helped him into the seat, and looked nervously at Sam B. For some reason, he knew that she was named Marsha. It was one of many times he’d seemed to have known something his counterpart did. Well, they were two parts of the same mind, he supposed. There must have been some kind of information exchange going on between them, like the time his mind got mixed up with that cop.
“Who are you, man?” the girl asked, her face pale.
Sam laughed. “Didn’t Richie ever tell you he had a twin?”
Marsha shook her head silently.
“Well,” he continued, as he fastened Sam A’s seat belt, “he does. And I’m him.” He stood, and extended a hand to her. “I’m Bobby.”
Marsha studied his face as she shook his hand. “Are you… you know—also like Al?”
“An alien, you mean?” Sam stifled a laugh. “Sure. Something like that. Why not.”
He scooted around to the driver’s side of the car, opening the door.
“Then is Bobby your name, or just the name of Richie’s brother…?” Marsha pressed.
“Uh, his brother,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. “I guess you can call me Sam if you want. Since it’s not taken.” He climbed into the car, only for Marsha to open the back door and move to get in with them. “Hey, I never said you could come along.”
“We gotta go, Sam,” Al was now in the other side of the back seat, looking frantic. “Take her or not, but—vamoose! Muoviti!”
“I don’t want to leave him like this…” Marsha said, her eyes wide and worried as she leaned forward and wiped the drool from Sam A’s mouth with her sleeve. “He needs a sitter.”
Sam B turned the key in the ignition, looking at Marsha in the rear view mirror. “I’ll take care of him. I’m a doctor. You go back and take care of things here. The cops are coming, you know.”
Marsha processed this for a moment. “Al said they were coming tomorrow night…”
“Well, looks like the process was expedited,” Sam B replied with a frown. “Now go on. We’ll come back when my brother here is a little more—shall we say—eloquent.”
Marsha sighed. “Alright. Be safe… Al and Sam.”
She reluctantly climbed back out of the car, and shut the door. Sam immediately sped away, having little time to spare. When the cloud of sand dispersed, he saw in his mirrors that Marsha was returning to the dome.
Sam stole a glance at his double in the passenger’s seat, whose cheeks were flushed as he stared into the distance with vacant eyes.
“You okay there, Mister Perfect?”
Sam A was slow to react. “Hmm?” He squinted at Sam B, then out at the road. “I really don’t think I should be driving.”
“You’re not.”
“Oh…” A look of confusion passed over his face, before his head rolled to one side and he stared idly out the window.
“Ziggy says he’ll be loopy like this for at least six more hours,” Al said. “He’ll be sobered up in about ten to twelve.”
“Great,” Sam B moaned. “So I’ve gotta babysit him until morning? I’m getting a bit tired of sacrificing my sleep for other people.”
“Hey, you could have brought that hippie chick along and divided the work.” Al shrugged. “Of course, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to me much.”
“Yeah, well, I can handle it,” Sam said through a deep sigh. “I’m just gonna complain a lot.”
“Nothing new then,” Al said, chuckling. After a moment, his expression faded into a frown. “So, uh, you plan on explaining what you’re doing in Arizona, when you’re supposed to be reporting for duty in San Diego tomorrow? Not that I’m not grateful you showed up…”
Sam gave him a casual shrug. “Most effective way of keeping Bobby from getting killed in Vietnam is to not go to Vietnam. So I came out here to join the hippies. You got a problem with that?”
“Uh, yes!” Al said, a look of disbelief on his face. “What about Brenda and the baby, Sam? And Bobby’s gonna be in big trouble for deserting. You’ve gotta get back there by morning.”
“I cut my losses,” Sam said bitterly. “I was getting nowhere. That baby just isn’t meant to be, and I just couldn’t take it any more.” He held out a pinched thumb and index finger. “I’m this close to losing it, okay? Don’t push me, Al. I mean it.”
Al shut his mouth. For a while thereafter, all Sam could hear was the car’s roaring engine accompanied by Al tapping at the handlink as it popped and whirred.
Then the tense silence was broken by Sam A, pulling at his seat belt. “Where is this?”
“Arizona desert,” Sam B replied.
“Is that why it’s so hot?”
Sam B eyed his duplicate, seeing that he was absolutely pouring with sweat. “I think it’s the drug that jerk gave you. What was it, anyway?”
“PCP,” Al chimed in grimly. “He injected it.”
“Oh boy…” Sam muttered. “Who knows what could be happening in that head of his?” He pulled over to the side of the long, empty stretch of road, and parked the car. “Wanna take a breather, Sam?”
“Huh?”
“Do you want some fresh air?”
“Oh, uh, yeah I guess,” he said, looking at Sam B at the wheel. “I shouldn’t be driving anyway… I’m on drugs, I think.”
Sam closed his eyes and shook his head. “Like I said before, you’re not driving. I’m driving.”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t be,” Sam A argued, leaving Sam B to furrow his brow, wondering what he was trying to say.
“I think he’s getting confused,” said Al. “When he looks at you he’s seeing himself, so he thinks he’s doing the things you’re doing. Ziggy says it’s because the drug is disco—disco…?” he smacked the side of the handlink. “Oh, dis-so-cia-tive. Dissociative. He’s having trouble with knowing where his body ends and others begin.”
“So what, he thinks he’s having some kind of out-of-body experience?”
“Maybe,” Al hedged.
Sam climbed out of the car, and opened Sam A’s door, helping him to his feet.
“Is the breeze out here better for you?” he asked his doped-up double.
Sam A leaned against the car, not seeming to have registered the question. He shielded his bloodshot eyes from the sun, and a dopey, vacant smirk found its way onto his face as he looked out into the desolate expanse. He held that pose for a minute or two, his hand slowly drifting downward until it wasn’t shielding anything, and he squinted instead.
“It’s too bright,” he commented, screwing up his nose. “It’ll scare the coyotes.”
What coyotes?
Al emerged from the car, phasing through the white door. “You ought to get some water for him, Sam. Maybe check into a motel somewhere. He could get heatstroke out here.”
Sam B nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.” He clapped a hand to Sam A’s shoulder. “You ready to keep going?”
“Going? Going where?”
“I don’t know, exactly. Somewhere safer than the middle of nowhere.”
Sam A nodded his head rapidly. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbled, waving a hand out to the desert. “I don’t really like the way that cactus is lookin’ at Al.”