long do you want to live here in fear?”
The older man flinches, glances at him, and
then looks away, shamed. He is afraid. As much as he doesn’t want
to admit it, he is.
Rob leans forward and grabs Singleton’s
forearm. “You know too much about him and his project. It’s only a
matter of time before he—or his superiors—decide to cut away any
loose ends.” Rob pokes him in the chest. “And that includes
you.”
Singleton’s head lowers and he nods
reluctantly. “I know. I know.” He sits in silence for a beat, then
asks, “What about Georgia Cobb? I don’t know her—have only spoken
to her once, back before I met you. I don’t even know what she
looks like.”
Rob smiles. “Don’t worry about that. Paul and I
already have her on board.”
Singleton raises his eyebrows
questioningly.
“ She’s a professor now at a small
East Texas college. I took one of her classes last summer after my
Army discharge. She’s on board and ready at a moment’s
notice.”
“ You work fast.”
Rob shakes his head, suddenly serious. “No.
This has been a yearly struggle. You see this boy?” He moves his
hand before his face. “Is this the boy you remember from that
arcade?”
“ No,” Singleton has to admit it. The
wisp of the boy he’d seen all those years ago was nothing like the
man standing before him now. This man is strong—still slight of
build, but toned to perfection by military training. The boy he
remembered could have been blown over by a strong wind.
“ You don’t know how difficult it can
be for a teenage boy to suddenly have another person sharing your
body with you.” Rob glances away, gaze staring beyond the walls of
the kitchen into some distant memory. “Paul and I often make jokes
to each other about schizophrenia. But in the end, this must be
exactly what it is.”
Singleton sips the last of his coffee. “So what
now?”
Rob’s eyes turn back to him, suddenly serious
again. “Now you pack a bag. You have an introduction to
make.”
* * *
Two days later, a tan Toyota pulls up to the
front of a small red-brick house. It’s almost midnight and the
occupant inside sleeps soundly. Years of comfort and security have
chiseled away at the ever-alert military man of his youth. This is
the one place he could lay his head down and sleep soundly with no
fear: but General Potter is about to receive an unexpected
awakening.
Singleton, Paul, and Georgia all stare out the
passenger side window at the house where General Potter lives.
Georgia grips the steering wheel, knuckles white in
anticipation.
“ Well,” says Singleton. “This is it,
isn’t it?”
Paul nods in the darkness. “Yup.”
Singleton opens the door and steps out. As Paul
reaches for his door-handle, Georgia reaches between the seats and
grabs him by the shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”
He turns. The darkness shrouds his face but she
can feel the intensity of his gaze. Voice cold, he says, “I’ve
never been more sure about anything.”
* * *
At first, he thinks thunder has awoken him; but
then his head clears and he quickly dismisses the thought. The
night before, the local weatherman predicted the weekend would be
sunny with no chance of rain. He slowly slides his hand underneath
the pillow and wraps his fingers around the pistol hidden beneath.
He listens to the quiet house.
There it is again, and there’s no mistaking it
this time—someone is knocking at the front door. He throws off the
covers and darts from the bedroom, down the short hallway, and
stops just short of the front door. He does not turn on any light.
Bordering the door are two thick windows. Blinds cover both, but
the one on the left has a slight crack, allowing him to peek
outside without actually having to move the fabric. Two men are on
his front porch—both stand well away from the front door, as if
they expect the occupant inside to glance out before opening
the door.
He takes a breath and shouts through the door,
“Please
The older man flinches, glances at him, and
then looks away, shamed. He is afraid. As much as he doesn’t want
to admit it, he is.
Rob leans forward and grabs Singleton’s
forearm. “You know too much about him and his project. It’s only a
matter of time before he—or his superiors—decide to cut away any
loose ends.” Rob pokes him in the chest. “And that includes
you.”
Singleton’s head lowers and he nods
reluctantly. “I know. I know.” He sits in silence for a beat, then
asks, “What about Georgia Cobb? I don’t know her—have only spoken
to her once, back before I met you. I don’t even know what she
looks like.”
Rob smiles. “Don’t worry about that. Paul and I
already have her on board.”
Singleton raises his eyebrows
questioningly.
“ She’s a professor now at a small
East Texas college. I took one of her classes last summer after my
Army discharge. She’s on board and ready at a moment’s
notice.”
“ You work fast.”
Rob shakes his head, suddenly serious. “No.
This has been a yearly struggle. You see this boy?” He moves his
hand before his face. “Is this the boy you remember from that
arcade?”
“ No,” Singleton has to admit it. The
wisp of the boy he’d seen all those years ago was nothing like the
man standing before him now. This man is strong—still slight of
build, but toned to perfection by military training. The boy he
remembered could have been blown over by a strong wind.
“ You don’t know how difficult it can
be for a teenage boy to suddenly have another person sharing your
body with you.” Rob glances away, gaze staring beyond the walls of
the kitchen into some distant memory. “Paul and I often make jokes
to each other about schizophrenia. But in the end, this must be
exactly what it is.”
Singleton sips the last of his coffee. “So what
now?”
Rob’s eyes turn back to him, suddenly serious
again. “Now you pack a bag. You have an introduction to
make.”
* * *
Two days later, a tan Toyota pulls up to the
front of a small red-brick house. It’s almost midnight and the
occupant inside sleeps soundly. Years of comfort and security have
chiseled away at the ever-alert military man of his youth. This is
the one place he could lay his head down and sleep soundly with no
fear: but General Potter is about to receive an unexpected
awakening.
Singleton, Paul, and Georgia all stare out the
passenger side window at the house where General Potter lives.
Georgia grips the steering wheel, knuckles white in
anticipation.
“ Well,” says Singleton. “This is it,
isn’t it?”
Paul nods in the darkness. “Yup.”
Singleton opens the door and steps out. As Paul
reaches for his door-handle, Georgia reaches between the seats and
grabs him by the shoulder. “Are you sure about this?”
He turns. The darkness shrouds his face but she
can feel the intensity of his gaze. Voice cold, he says, “I’ve
never been more sure about anything.”
* * *
At first, he thinks thunder has awoken him; but
then his head clears and he quickly dismisses the thought. The
night before, the local weatherman predicted the weekend would be
sunny with no chance of rain. He slowly slides his hand underneath
the pillow and wraps his fingers around the pistol hidden beneath.
He listens to the quiet house.
There it is again, and there’s no mistaking it
this time—someone is knocking at the front door. He throws off the
covers and darts from the bedroom, down the short hallway, and
stops just short of the front door. He does not turn on any light.
Bordering the door are two thick windows. Blinds cover both, but
the one on the left has a slight crack, allowing him to peek
outside without actually having to move the fabric. Two men are on
his front porch—both stand well away from the front door, as if
they expect the occupant inside to glance out before opening
the door.
He takes a breath and shouts through the door,
“Please
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