Chapter 45
When Al opened the door of the Waiting Room to see who’d just arrived—Ziggy had paged him right as he was about to bite into a sandwich—the teenager sitting on the table snapped his head towards him, and gave an excited look.
“Oh, man! It’s just like Richie said,” he proclaimed, swinging his legs as his eyes roamed the blue room. “Better than Star Trek…”
Al raised an eyebrow. It had barely been an hour since the two Sams had leaped out of 1970. Al thought he might be able to get a nice sleep for once, but it was not to be. And now… Al squinted as he looked at the kid.
“Wait… Mike, right?” he said as he recognised the features of the boy. At least it wasn’t twins now. Well, he didn’t think Mike had a twin, at any rate.
“Yup!” Mike confirmed, and looked down at Al’s suit. “And who are you? Are you Al? Is Al short for alien? I always wanted to know but I never got to ask last time. Is this place in space or back on your home planet? Are you a carbon-based life form or something else? Can I see the blue orb that knows all of history? Does it know the meaning of life? Can I ask it? And are you the same kind of aliens that crashed at Roswell? Is it true y’all built Atlantis?”
Al pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jeez, slow down kid. Uh, first off… I’m, ahh… Bingo, remember?”
“Oh yeah! Like the dog. I remember. Funny name for an alien.”
“And no, you can’t see the blue orb.” Just how much had Sam told this kid, anyway? “Anyway, you just have to wait around a while in here, okay? A lady will be in shortly to make sure you’re doing alright. If you need anything, just ask her.”
Mike frowned. “Is that it? I just have to sit in here and do nothin’? Do you at least have books?”
Al smiled. “You can read now, huh?”
“Of course!” he replied proudly. “I made a promise to Al to learn, and I learnt.”
“Good for you, Mike. I’ll see what I can do about finding you some books. What do you like to read?”
“Anything!” Mike announced. “Brenda says I read as well as she does. So gimme something hard.”
“Brenda says so, huh?” Al smirked. “Okay. Well, I think some of the literature we have here might be a bit hard even for you,” he said, thinking about the advanced quantum physics tomes in Sam’s office that even Donna sometimes struggled to comprehend, “but I’m sure we’ll find something for you.”
“Thanks, Bingo!” Mike said with a cheerful smile.
Endless curiosity in that kid, Al thought as he sauntered out of the Waiting Room, wondering what Sam could possibly be doing back in the boy’s life.
* * *
“You really spruced up this place,” Sam commented as Marsha led him out the back doors of the dome, leading into a small apartment that had apparently been built in the last five years. “You all really took my plans and ran with ’em, huh?”
Richie and Bobby followed them into the quarters and sat on a couple of matching recliners within that seemed to be their personal spots in the small living room, overlooking a television set.
“It was a solid foundation,” Marsha said brightly. “Since the Sheriff’s department decided to start breathing down our necks for drugs, Brenda and Alicia had the idea of making the place a clean rehab retreat.”
“I imagine that didn’t go down so well with about half of the folks here,” Sam mused, as he pictured how divided the commune had been when he’d proposed getting rid of their stash the first time around.
Marsha chuckled. “It sure did shake things up. Lots of people left, but those that stayed have been very loyal to the group. Without the drugs, the place has been very peaceful. Even if the cops do keep a close eye on us.”
Sam was about to ask why they would still keep such a close eye on the place when the Imaging Chamber door finally sounded. He turned his head to the noise to see Al stepping through the glowing doorway, right into Bobby’s lap. He looked down with a start, and stepped away from the recliner.
“Well, would you look at that,” he said, waving a hand towards Sam. “You’re a complete set again.”
Sam turned to Marsha, raising a finger and opening his mouth to speak.
“Mothership calling?” she asked, grinning.
“Yeah,” Sam said with a chuckle.
“Be my guest,” she said, leaving his side to sit on Richie’s lap and begin making out with the surprised hippie twin.
Al watched her go, an eyebrow raised. “What—they know? Again? So much for the secret government project, huh?”
Sam shrugged, giving a crooked smile. “Bobby and Brenda’s twins saw me arrive. There was nothin’ I could do.”
Al smirked, pulling a cigar from his jacket. “Well, that might make things easier. You remember everything that happened last time?”
“I think so,” Sam said, rubbing his chin. “At least the gist of it, and I’m glad to be back in one piece with all my emotional faculties in order.” He shuddered, thinking about all the bad decisions that had made everything worse. “I know I’m Mike now, too. Have you spoken to him in the Waiting Room?”
“Yeah, kid’s got a million questions. And wants books.”
Sam smiled at this. “That’s great. Everything seems to be going amazing here, Al. So why am I back?”
Al lit his cigar and took a puff before answering. “Sometime in the next two hours, Richie’s gonna get busted for possession of narcotics, and sent back to prison.”
“What?” Sam hissed. “He wouldn’t… would he?”
“Beats me,” Al said. “I mean, he is a hippie, so it wouldn’t surprise anyone that he might have a secret stash. But he’s right here in front of you, so you might as well ask him, right?”
“Yeah…” Sam agreed, and proceeded to the recliner where Marsha sat atop Richie as the two of them explored one another with their hands and mouths.
Bobby was looking up at Sam with an amused expression. “Good luck prying them apart,” he said, chin in hand. “Got a crowbar?”
Sam shared a chuckle with him as he leaned over the writhing mass of limbs and tapped Marsha on the shoulder.
In a strange coincidence, the shoulder taps coincided with knocks on the door. Sam looked up as Bobby got out of his seat and opened it, revealing Alicia, a manilla folder clutched to her chest.
“Hey Bobby!” she said, voice as melodic and cheerful as ever. “I was just going over the finances and—” she locked eyes with Sam, “—oh, hi Mike. Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“Brenda let him go early,” Bobby explained. “I don’t think she has much to teach a guy who built a hydroelectric generator.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Huh?” She turned her eye to Sam, questioning.
“Uh, Mike got… beamed up,” Sam said sheepishly.
Alicia’s mouth fell open. “Al’s back?” At Bobby’s nod, she threw herself against Sam, squeezing him. With her short stature, she buried her head in his chest. “Hi Al! Oh my God!”
“Hey… take it easy,” Sam said. As wonderful as it was to be able to revisit people from a previous leap—he couldn’t remember that ever happening before—he had more pressing concerns than reunions. He pulled away from Alicia and returned to Marsha and Richie, who had thankfully stopped sucking face and were looking up at Alicia. “Richie, we need to talk…”
Richie gave Sam a casual, easy smile. “Alrighty. Shoot.” He returned his attention to Marsha, kissing her shoulder.
“Uh—we might want to talk about this privately,” Sam said, exchanging a glance with Al.
Richie cocked his head. “Why? What’s this about?”
Marsha, taking the hint, climbed off him. “Go on, babe.” She nodded to Sam, smiling.
Richie stood with a shrug, and headed for a glass side door that led outside. Sam followed, and Al passed through the wall and awaited his arrival.
Closing the door, Richie frowned. “So what’s this about?”
Sam took a deep breath. “Richie, are you hiding drugs?”
Richie’s brow creased. “What? Nah, man. Not with the pigs hassling us all the time—I’m on conditional release! I’m not stupid enough to get myself arrested again for nothing.”
Sam pursed his lips. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Al—come on! I’m clean, okay? Haven’t so much as smoked a doobie since I got out of the clink, much as I coulda used one.”
A series of noises came from the handlink as Al pressed buttons. “Well, Ziggy says he’s found with cocaine and cannabis on his person. At least, that’s what the cops reported.”
Sam frowned. “Just to be absolutely sure…” he gestured to Richie’s jeans. “Would you mind turning out your pockets?”
Richie furrowed his brow, but did as asked. The only thing in his pockets was some loose change.
“See? Nothin’, man. I don’t know why you’re asking all this.”
Sam exchanged a baffled look with Al.
“Neither do I.”