Across the room, Peter sang along to the music, slightly off-key. The living room was slowly transforming itself from a dusty dingy room into a bright, clean, open room. The paint was off white, and the floor had been cleaned. The old, dingy, gray rug had been removed and now a light green one was in place.
A coffee table and a television cabinet had already been assembled, and the sofa was scheduled to arrive the next day. The place was looking better all the time.
"That alien guy was really weird," Davy commented conversationally when the radio switched to a commercial.
"Yeah," Peter agreed. He put a finger to his lips and nodded in the direction of Thomas, who was seated in the center of the room, looking at the books he had been given.
Davy's eyes grew big, and he nodded, remembering belatedly that Talek had instructed them not to say anything to Thomas about his existence. He changed the subject, calling across the room.
"Any luck with those books?" he asked.
Thomas looked up momentarily, nodded, and then returned to them without going into any detail.
Peter grinned. So far, the boy had been reluctant to say anything, being so entranced by the book that the others could barely get a word out of him.
"Looks like it's going well," Peter replied.
Mike settled himself on the couch with a pen in one hand and a guitar on his lap, determined to work out the lyrics to a song he'd been trying to finish for the past month. The baby Robert had just been put down for a nap, and with nothing else to bug him for the next few hours, he decided that it was the perfect time to get some work done.
He worked for a good fifteen minutes, getting himself into the rhythm of working and not really noticing the time go by, when the phone rang.
Mike let it ring three times before he finally put down his pen and guitar and strolled to the phone in the kitchen. He hoped that it would cease ringing and the caller would give up by the time he got there, but unfortunately, although it was on the tenth ring, the caller didn't give up.
With a sigh, Mike picked up the phone. "Yeah?" he answered gruffly, hoping the caller would get the message that he didn't want to be interrupted.
"You are in danger," a voice on the other end replied. "Great danger."
"What? Who's this?" Mike demanded, in no mood for jokes.
"Danger. You're in danger," the voice repeated.
"You're gonna be in danger if you don't tell me who you are," Mike replied. The voice took no heed.
"Great danger. You are in great danger. You should have listened to me."
"Listened to you?" Mike scoffed. "Funny, pal, but I don't like prank calls. Some other time, okay?" He hung up the phone, shaking his head slightly, and turned to walk back to the couch. He had almost reached it when the phone rang again.
Grumbling to himself, he made his way back and picked up the receiver again. "Hello?" he asked, trying to sound pleasant.
"You've gotta listen to me," the garbled, half-unintelligible voice repeated. "You're in danger."
"Who is this?"
"That's not important. You're in danger."
"Look, pal, you gotta give me some evidence, okay?" Mike replied.
"You're in danger."
"Thanks. Thanks. I'll buy insurance, okay?" Mike answered, hanging up.
The phone rang again.
"Yes?"
"You're not taking me seriously."
"Of course I'm not! You're a nut!"
"You should."
"Why? Why should I?"
"You're in danger."
Mike sighed. "What kind of danger?"
"Serious danger."
"Right. Thanks, okay? Bye."
"You're in d-," the voice began. Mike hung up.
Two seconds later the phone rang again.
"Look I know I'm in danger, okay? I get the point!!" he half-shouted into the phone. The voice didn't reply.
"Mike?"
"Micky?"
"What are you yelling about danger?"
Mike sighed. "Sorry Mick, it's just that this weird voice has been calling here, telling me I'm in danger."
"Weird," Micky agreed.
"Yeah, you could say that."
"I wonder who it is."
"I dunno." Mike changed the subject. "What's up?"
"I might be late for dinner."
"Okay."
"Yeah, Jenny's doing a lot better. The doctors think that she might actually wake up tonight. So I'm gonna stay with her for a while," the drummer explained.
"That's great, Mick!" Mike answered.
"Yeah," Micky replied, and Mike could hear the excitement in his voice. "I'll get home when I can."
Mike agreed, and Micky hung up.
With a sigh, Mike turned to go back into the living room. He sat down again and managed to work for about ten minutes without a problem.
Then the baby started crying.
"'Ey Tom, 'ow 'bout some 'elp wi' this?" Davy grunted under the strain of a large board.
Thomas looked up momentarily and focused his eyes on the large board. Davy relaxed as the board floated its way across the room to where Peter was busy trying to put together a bookshelf. Then it leaned itself up against the wall.
"Thanks, Thomas," Peter replied, working to attach that board to the others he'd already fit together.
Thomas didn't even acknowledge the reply, turning back to his book the moment the board was safely against the wall.
He didn't understand precisely how, but the weird symbols in the books he'd been given were beginning to make sense. Somehow he could tell that the books were telling him about where Kerluc came from - a far away place. He wasn't sure if this place existed anymore, but he knew he was somehow connected to it. Maybe he was from there…
"Making progress?" Davy asked, sticking his head in to see what was happening. Thomas nodded.
"Yeah," he replied. "A lot."
"Well, what are they about?" Peter asked.
"Aliens, I think," Thomas answered. "I can't explain how I understand it, but I do. They tell stories. About this group of … people? I'm not sure if you'd call them that. But they lived a long time ago." He frowned for a moment and then looked up at Peter and Davy. His eyes were shining. "I think it's their history," he explained.
Jenny groaned slightly. The pain in her head was strong, but the pain everywhere else was stronger. She was trying to ignore it, but it was too strong. She moaned again.
She should really get up, she knew. She had been doing something, hadn't she? Yeah…putting that stupid shelf together. Shouldn't she get back to doing that? And then the phone had rung. The rest was sort of a blur to her.
But she knew the only way she'd find out was if she managed to open her eyes. So she tried to. With a tremendous amount of effort, she forced her eyelids open.
The blurry pictures around her didn't solidify for a few minutes. She squinted through the blurs to try to figure out what they were.
Mike sighed as he lifted baby Robert out of his crib. The baby's crying had disrupted his final efforts to work on his song.
"I'll bet you're hungry, aren't you?" he asked the baby when he had finished changing him.
"Da ba," Robert replied, agreeing the best that he could.
"Well, let's see what we've got to eat." Mike carried the baby down the stairs and placed him in his highchair while he rummaged through the cabinets for some suitable baby food. "Strained carrots, strained peas, strained broccoli, strained peaches. Hmm, that sounds yummy. Strained peaches it is. Okay?"
"De de doo boo ba loo ma!" Robert sang back.
"I guess I'll take that as a yes," Mike said with a smile. He found a plastic spoon and a baby bib and began to feed the baby.
Thankfully, Robert did like strained peaches - infinitely more than he had liked the strained broccoli. It had taken he and Davy two hours to clean off the walls. He had learned his lesson after that. No more broccoli for this kid.
"Here ya go, squirt," he coaxed, feeding spoonful after spoonful into the baby's mouth. Robert munched on the peaches as best he could with only two teeth and seemed to enjoy it.
"Ma ba wa wa ya," he commented between bites.
"Yeah," Mike agreed. "How about yummy? Yum. Ee. Yummy."
"Mum mum mum," Robert replied.
"Good enough. Yummy."
"Ya ya wa!"
Mike sighed. "Right. It appears talking is at least a few weeks away." He shrugged.
When Robert had finished the strained peaches, Mike stood up to put the empty jar in the sink. Suddenly, a headache came on, pain attacking him powerfully in the front of his head.
Groaning, Mike reached out and grabbed the sink. A flash of light nearly blinded him.
The gas was filling the Pad. An ugly, bad smelling green gas. Before Mike could react, he took a heavy lungful of the stuff and collapsed. His last thoughts were of the baby, sitting and playing on the floor a few feet away from him.
Mike shook his head, clearing away the static. He put the baby food jar in the sink and then turned back to Robert. Without a word, he removed the boy's bib and picked him up, carrying him out of the kitchen and then out of the Pad.
Out on the street a few minutes later, he observed the green gas pouring out the opened windows.
"I guess maybe I should have listened to that funky voice on the phone, huh?" he asked Robert.
"Ba ya ba da," was the baby's only expected and given response.
"My theory is that who ever it was might have been the same person who sent that letter to Micky," Mike explained to his sister, Davy, and Peter. The Pad was still airing out, so they were talking at the house next door.
"I don't think Maggie would stoop that low," Nicole told her brother, and the others agreed.
"I don't either," Peter agreed. "The question is, was that meant for Micky, or for all of us?"
"It could be either one," Mike replied.
"Any clues on who it was?" Davy asked.
"Nope. Police looked around and said there was nothin'. Not even a footprint. It was just chloroform gas. Nothin' too dangerous. Just woulda knocked us out for a bit," Mike answered.
"Hmm…" Davy thought. He was about to say more, but the phone rang.
"Hello?" Peter answered. "Oh, hi Mick. Yeah, everybody's over here. She what? No way! That's great, Micky. Yeah, everything's fine here. Home in an hour? Okay. Yeah, that's great. Okay. No prob. See ya then, Micky!" He hung up the phone.
"She's doing better, huh?" Mike asked.
"Yeah. Micky said she woke up," Peter reported. "She's still a bit groggy and they're gonna keep her there for at least a couple days. But he'll be home in a few hours."
"You didn't tell 'im about the 'ouse," Davy observed. It wasn't a question.
Peter shook his head. "He doesn't need to get anymore worried and upset than he already is," he explained.
"Good plan, Pete," Mike agreed. He turned to Davy, who was now carrying Robert. "Wanna head back now? We gotta get started on dinner."
"Sure," Davy replied, shrugging. "I'm a bit 'ungry."
"Tay-bay da ba," Robert agreed.
"Good. It's decided." The three headed back.
