Chapter #19

Marshall leans against the front of the blazer and continues to look at this cell phone. The technology is way beyond him but the wear and tear on it shows it to be quite old. Marshall grins at the idea that just pops into his head. He flips open the phone and is surprised to find a dial tone. A mischievous smile crosses his face as he dials his home number. He presses the numbers out slowly. 8-- he thinks about the time before this when Celine would answer the phone naked and out of breath for him. 6--for the times they would laugh and play as if he were a salesman. 7-- he thinks about the time he talked her into phone sex and heard what power his voice and imagination could have over her. His finger presses the 5 and he takes a deep breath. He feels the anticipation mount as his finger finds the number 3. With a deep breath he presses the number 0 followed by the number 9. The call goes through almost instantly and Marshall listens breathlessly as one ring passes then two. There is a sudden silence as someone on the other end picks up their receiver.

Tosha opens the door of the truck and calls out to Marshall in a soft voice.

Marshall clicks the button to disconnect the call and walks toward the sound of Tosha's voice.

"Hello… Hello?? Is there anyone there?" The elderly lady calls out, her voice trembling. She puts the receiver back on the phone. She wonders who would have called her as she walks past the ancient photo of the young man on the Harley all dressed in black.

Marshall takes Tosha's face in his hands and looks deeply into her eyes. Slowly, he moves closer and kisses her.

"I think I know of a way to contact the ship, Marshall. But it's going to be really risky."

Marshall raises an eye brow "What are we going to do, go back into the compound?" he laughs at himself.

Tosha frowns at him and goes into a pout. "Well, yes, that was my idea. And we would get into the big building and use their communication equipment." She looks up as Marshall is shaking his head.

"Sweetheart, whoever that is in there is not accepting visitors, trust me. And they could care less that you are lost. But, I bet they would love the idea of enslaving you, since you are a princess." Marshall pauses for a moment surveying the area. "Maybe if we get away from this area and we make it to higher ground we can get a signal to the ship."

Tosha nods in agreement "Marshall, we only have a few earth hours left and the ship will give up on us. Even if I am a Princess they know once the power cell is drained there will be no way to track me."

Marshall looks out into the distance, back towards the place where this true war of the worlds is happening. Then in the direction where all the traffic had been coming from all day.

"Ok, I have a plan; we travel north and look for a hill top or a mountain or something. Then we try again to contact the ship." He then looks into the cab area of the truck and sees the cigarette lighter in the dash. "I may be able to use that to power up the cell in the communicator with that." He opens the door on the passenger side and sits in the seat. "Come on, Tosha, get in. You are going to have to drive while I try to hook this up."

Tosha climbs into the driver's side and scans the controls for a few seconds. She turns the key and shifts the selector into drive. The truck responds and she steers it out of the brush and onto the roadway.

She would appear to have driven all her life.

The Major is also trying to locate them. But his reasoning is much different. He wants his plan carried out. He wants them dead.

Major Kripstol silently slips into his quarters and retrieves his tiny communicator device. He turns on his computer this time also. Scanning the communicator he finds the radio frequency he needs to piggyback on. He will now be able to mask his signal as he calls to the planet below.

"Answer me damn you!" He shouts through clenched teeth. "What happened, how did they escape? Answer me!!! Answer me now or I will come to the surface and cut your throat myself!"

Static fills the air, hissing and buzzing from the receiver. "We have a bit of a problem here, Major." The voice hisses. Sounds of muffled machine gunfire and explosions can be heard in the background. "It would seem something has, shall we say, irritated the local indigenous life forms. We are in the process of eradicating this nuisance. Then we will continue to fulfill the bargain we set with you."

Major Kripstol paces back and forth in front of the flickering light of the virtual screen. He turns suddenly and slams his fist on the desktop. "I knew better than to rely on you fully. I am giving you until the next sunrise on that miserable planet, to close the deal. After that your problems increase tenfold as I will come to the surface and eliminate my target and you!"

The soft alarm of someone approaching his door sounds. The Major ends the transmission, adjusts his jacket and straightens his posture and answers the door.

"Enter!"

Marlin enters the room slowly and very cautiously. He looks into the Majors eyes.

"I am not sure how you have accomplished it as of right now, milord. But I know you have stranded them on the planet. I will watch you closely." Marlin then backs slowly out of the room again.

The Major's eyes are burning holes in Marlin as the door closes. He spins and slams his fist on the tabletop again just as the door closes.

"How could I have been so stupid as to trust that imbecile on the planet's surface. I should have gone with them and just taken care of them myself." He walks to the porthole and gazes out, hands clasped behind him staring at the planet silently revolving in front of the window.

"That’s it! Maybe I can take care of this myself." His eyes squint as he goes into deep thought about how he is going to explain his traveling to the planet. He smiles and his reflection shows in the porthole.

I could become a hero for this and still get my mission done." He laughs hardly and spins on his heel, walking to the door.

Marshall, you are familiar with the gauges and controls of this vehicle, correct?"

"Yes, Tosha I am. Why do you ask?" Marshall replies, looking over the dash and out the windshield to see if he recognizes where they are. He then looks up to Tosha and smiles and continues attempting to wire in the communicator to the cigarette lighter of the truck.

"You know, if I can get this to work we will have a much stronger signal to contact the ship."

"That is great news, Marshall! she giggles. "But what does this little gauge do and why is it almost on the red mark now? It was on the green "F" mark when we started."

Marshall looks up suddenly, eyes wide. "Stop the truck, Tosha. Stop now!" He looks at the gauge on the dash then opens the door and gets out, walking to the rear of the truck. There are two cans hanging on the back. One has a hole low in its body, the other is intact. He lifts the one with the hole.

"This one has maybe a gallon of gas left in it. I will check the other when I get this in the tank. Please shut off the motor, Tosha." He opens the filler door and begins slowly pouring the gas from the can into the tank. After a few minutes he announces he is going to get the other can. He lifts it from it's mount, it's not very heavy either and maybe half full. He opens the top and sniffs it's fumes; it almost smells like gas so he adds all of it too. He puts both empty cans back in their holders and then climbs into the truck and watches the gauge. Tosha starts the motor and the gauge climbs slightly.

"Ok sweetie, let's go again for a little while. If we see another vehicle as we travel I will try to scavenge whatever I can from it to keep us on the road."

Tosha nods and shifts the gear selector into drive again.

After about an hour, Marshall again looks up from his task just as they pass an abandoned building. It’s a fairly large building, resembling a roadside restaurant or café with possibly a garage area in the back but attached to the main building. A lot of open windows in the front but still offering adequate cover and possibly some supplies.

"Stop here. Let me out but be ready to leave in a moments notice."

Marshall draws the .9mm pistol from its holster and one of the full clips from the ammo bag. He kisses Tosha.

"I think maybe we found a place to hide for a little while. I will be right back. But, remember if it looks hopeless, leave me." He looks at her once more and steps out of the truck, squatting low and closing the door. He quickly moves to the edge of the building and peeks into one of the windows. Then he moves quickly around the building and out of Tosha's sight.

Tosha sits watching for Marshall to come back. Then she notices the communicator. She presses the signal button and hears that familiar beeping tone. She picks it up and holds it close to her mouth

"Can anyone hear me?" she says sheepishly. Her reply is just the soft hiss of static. She flips a tiny switch and the homing signal sequence is launched. She smiles at the thought that Marshall, who knows nothing of this technology, still managed to get some type of signal working.

Marshall finds an open door on the side of the building and peers inside. The room is a wreck of scattered and picked over items. He moves on more to the rear of the building and takes note of the large overhead door still intact.

This will work just fine." he thinks outloud.

Something moves, tin cans are knocked over, Marshall spins down to one knee, drawing a bead and scanning the area. He becomes very still, listening for anything to make a noise. The sound of his own breathing is almost deafening as he listens that hard for any noise he cannot recognize. He slowly inches his way to the noise, resting on one knee and one foot in front of him, kneeling at a ready, low stance as his pistol moves with every movement of his eyes. He is almost where the first noise came from, when another can is knocked over a few feet from him. Marshall dives to the side and instinctively tightens his grip on the trigger thumb on the safety but not firing. His eyes are wide and his nerves are right on the edge.

A small, gray kitten skinny and weak crawls from under the boxes where the noise came from. Marshall does not move as the kitten gets closer. Suddenly, the kitten notices Marshall and hisses loudly, jumping back and standing on its hind legs only to fall over panting. Its eyes grow still and glass over.

With gloved hands, Marshall picks up the kitten and puts him in one of his coat's pockets.

Exhaling deeply, Marshall continues to explore this building; hoping it will provide a safe haven for Tosha and himself. After a few more minutes, he is again outside in the sunlight and headed to where the truck is parked.

Tosha sees him and starts the motor, as Marshall waves for her to follow him. He leads her into the opening in the rear with the big overhead doors and closes them after the truck is inside.

Walking to the driver's side door, Marshall reaches into his pocket and removes the kitten.

"Look. If this can survive here, we can too." He looks around at the mess. "Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home."he opens the door for Tosha and notices the locator beacon signal working. "You think anyone will follow this here?" he asks "I just hope it’s a friendly and not whoever it is occupying the fort back there." motioning in the direction they came from.

Tosha glances at Marshall, then around the room they are in.

If they pick up the signal, they will send help for us. But if they do not…" She pauses for a moment, "I don't think it would be bad to live out my life with you here."

Marshall places the kitten back on the floor. Finding a partially eaten can of hash in the truck, he scoops out some for the kitten and gently rubs her nose in it. The kitten licks the hash from her nose and begins eagerly lapping up the small mound of food.

Tosha smiles at Marshall and begins looking around the room they are in, holding the carbine at her side with one hand.

"We could put the truck over there and the boxes over here and make a nice sleeping area over there." she says, pointing to the various places.

Marshall laughs, thinking she is just anther woman at heart, already wanting to rearrange the furniture.