Mark McGinnis - The Simpleton

“Captain Tow.”

Tow sighed, “Yes… go ahead.”

“One of the Howsh vessels has moved on from Neptune and is currently en route to Uranus. The other two vessels will be completing their terrestrial scans shortly then moving on.”

“Terrific. Don’t you ever have any good news for me?”

“It is a very large planet. It will take them much longer to traverse—”

Tow cut the AI off: “I’ll be out shortly. You can update me then.”

Tow tried to mentally retrieve the image of Soweng, the feel of her lips upon his. The way she’d looked at him with such intensity. But the moment quickly passed. More pressing issues now clamored for his attention.

He raised his leg, probing it with outstretched fingers. He increased finger pressure downward, at the location of the injury, where a hairline fracture had made his life miserable for so long. Bones don’t set well in space. The pain now was significantly less, and he figured he’d need only one or two more healing sessions.

By the time Tow entered the bridge, it was getting dark outside. Dusk . Looking through the window, he watched with fascination at what the AI orb had referred to, pointing with one of its articulating arms, as fireflies. Magically, they glowed on and off, with no determinate rhyme or reason. Perhaps some kind of mating ritual? he wondered. Tow was finding it harder and harder to keep within the confines of the Evermore ’s hull. The outside world beyond was just too compelling—calling to him. It wasn’t as if he’d forgotten his mission—the importance of setting off for Primara: to again set her roots upon her furtive soil, unfold the heritage pod’s wide fronds, and commence the awakening .

Tow brought his attention back to the view-scape display—the crisscrossing of colored vectors. “All right, AI, talk to me about the Howsh’s scouting progress.”

“The Howsh have made sufficient progress. Engaging the Evermore ’s propulsion system to make repairs will, beyond any doubt, alert them to our location.”

Cuddy awoke to darkness and pain.

He remembered the two attackers. He remembered Rufus trembling at his feet and tried calling out for him: “Rufus? Here boy…” His voice sounded strange, like it belonged to someone else. He then was aware he was no longer outside. No longer lying on the ground near the train tracks.

“Rufus? Are you there?” Cuddy, trying to make a kissing sound, instantly regretted it. His lips were split. He touched them with his fingertips, finding them swollen and cracked. He felt a bandage on his cheek and another one on his ear.

Cuddy tried to raise his head but found it too painful to move. He was in his bed, he knew, with his own pillow and the soft blanket Momma had made for him, using long needles.

“Rufus? Here boy… are you there?”

He tried again to turn over on his back and, even though it hurt a lot, he did manage to roll over. He heard voices—Momma’s voice and someone else’s. Cuddy’s heart began to race. His eyes turned to his bedroom door as it slowly opened.

Cuddy watched the tall figure—his form silhouetted in the hallway light—approach his bed. It was the smell that gave him away first: cigarettes and the musky body odor on his Army jacket that needed washing.

Kyle sat down on the edge of the bed and stared down at Cuddy. “Are you alive, little brother?”

Cuddy laughed at that, then cringed in pain. “Of course I’m alive… how else would I be seeing you?”

“Who did this to you, Cuddy?”

Cuddy heard the seriousness in his brother’s voice. “I’m glad you came home, Kyle. Are you going to stay here? Do you live here now?”

“I don’t know… maybe. Who did this to you, Cuddy?”

“Um… I don’t know their names.”

“There was more than one?” Kyle’s voice rose, and he sounded angry.

Momma’s voice came from the hallway, “Don’t you be upsetting him, Kyle. There’s plenty of time for all that tomorrow. He needs to rest.”

“Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Rufus?

Kyle hesitated. “He’s hurt, Cuddy. Hurt pretty bad.”

Cuddy stared at his brother’s face. “Is he… dying?”

Kyle smiled his familiar crooked grin. “I don’t think so. But you won’t be able to wrestle with him for a while. He should be okay in a week or two… maybe three.”

“Okay… let him rest now. Out with you,” Momma ordered.

Kyle stood and headed toward the door. Then, glancing back, he smiled.

Momma took Kyle’s place on the edge of the bed. Leaning over, she kissed Cuddy on the forehead. “You gave me quite a scare, boy.”

“Momma…? I don’t remember… walking home.”

“That’s because you didn’t. Kyle got home while you were gone. When it started getting dark I called the grocer. He said you’d left hours earlier so I sent your brother to go find you. He came back with you and Rufus in the car. You both were in a bad way.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“Do you remember Doc Sanderson stitching up your lip and cheek?”

“No.”

“He says you’re going to be fine, but you have bruised ribs . You’re all wrapped up around your chest.” Cuddy noticed his chest did feel constricted and, placing an open palm there, could feel the bandaging beneath his pajama top.

“I’m tired, Momma… I’m going to go to sleep now.”

Three days later, Cuddy sat at the kitchen table, chewing on a mouthful of syrupy pancakes. Pancakes were his very favorite and he was already on his second batch. Fresh off the griddle, Momma carried over three pancakes atop a wide spatula and slid them onto Kyle’s empty plate. His brother sliced off a large pat of butter and spread it across the top of the stack. “Pass me the syrup, little brother.”

Cuddy, doing as asked, looked over at Momma, who seemed tense. His brother also looked tense. Cuddy wondered if it had something to do with an earlier phone call? He noticed them exchanging serious glances.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Mom?” Kyle asked.

Sitting down at the table, she said, “I’m not hungry,” using a paper napkin to swipe at Cuddy’s sticky chin. She then glanced out the large kitchen window behind Kyle, toward the long winding dirt drive that led down to Beacham Road.

Cuddy smiled. Happy that Kyle was back home again. Happy too that he was eating his favorite breakfast, and that Rufus was sleeping in his bed in the far corner of the kitchen. The lab had bandages wrapped around his chest too.

Momma sat forward with her elbows on the table, her joined hands supporting her chin. Suddenly Rufus’s head came up and barking only once, he looked toward the front door.

Momma said, “Ahh shit.” Cuddy was surprised. He’d rarely heard her cuss.

Momma, after exchanging another long glance with Kyle, rose from the table and headed for the door. Glancing out the window, Cuddy noticed a plume of dust approaching from the distance, and watched as a black and white police SUV turned onto their drive. Eventually rolling to a stop in the front yard, the car parked next to Momma’s old Maxima.

Cuddy rushed to his feet and hurried after his mother. Exiting through the screen door, he waved, “Hi, Officer Plumkin.”

Momma stood on the porch, wringing her hands in a dishtowel, as Officer Plumkin extricated his large bulk up and off the front seat of the police cruiser. Wrangling the gun belt that was out of position around his protruding belly, he tapped the brim of his cap. “Morning Cuddy… Mrs. Perkins.”

Kyle, followed by Rufus, came out too, and the screen door banged closed behind them. Officer Plumkin’s chin came up, and he warily eyed Kyle.