Butterfly Dreams (23)

(A sequel to The Strange Story of Mr. Black and Ms Gray.)

They had died when helping thwart a plan to undermine the government of the United States. Now Ben and Susan have returned from the dead and they must bring that government down. Standing in their way are Michael Black and Michelle Gray, the bodies of whom they now occupy.

-(The Story begins HERE)-

The Guardian
When we rounded the corner of the cottage I stopped to survey the driveway and surrounding grounds. Sitting upright and unattended was the HumVee that we had visualized being tipped onto its side by the force of the exploding helicopter. Gone were the soldiers and agents whose bodies had lay strewn about the driveway. Gone too was the helicopter.

Michelle slipped past me and shouted, "Over there - a body!" She rushed to the unmoving form and knelt by it. She cast a glance at me as I approached and announced, "It's Sergeant O'Day."

"Brock? Is he alive?" I asked with a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach. I held my breath and watched as she placed her finger tip against his neck.

"Yes, he's alive," she nodded with visible relief on her countenance. "But he's unresponsive."

I exhaled and said, "He's been drugged. They said he'd be out for several hours." Placing my hands under the sergeant's arms I peered up at Ben and pointed to Brock's legs, "Let's carry him inside."

"No," he protested. "We cannot stay here."

"He's right," Susan chimed in excitedly. For a moment her eyes appeared glazed and she tilted her head in the direction of the highway. "They are on their way back."

It was obvious to me that their remarks were the product of projected thoughts, no doubt from our so called guardian. Having experienced similar broadcast thoughts the year before, I had no reason to question their perceived clairvoyance. Why only they were receiving those thoughts was a question we'd have to deal with later.

To Ben I said, "We'll put Brock in the HumVee." Before lifting him from the ground I turned to Michelle, "We need to split up ..."

She nodded and responded, "Yes, I agree. We'll leave in different directions, one to the north and the other vehicle should head south."

With Brock positioned upright in the back seat and secured with the seat and shoulder belts, Ben offered, "I think Susan should ride with you ... and I should go with Michelle."

Michelle let loose an audible gasp. Clearing her throat she waved for me to come over to her. "He's right, of course. But ..."

"I know. I know what you're feeling. Looking at them, it's like looking into a mirror at ourselves. I'm not comfortable with it either," I said, "but we can't let them out of our sight."

"We'll have to trust our emotions and try to remember just who our passengers are." She kissed my cheek and mused, "Whoever they really are!"

I held onto her for a moment and asked, "Where should we rendezvous?"

"I have a feeling that our two friends will be determining that with their special GPS," she opined.

"GPS?"

Grinning she whispered, "Guardian Positioning System, what else?"

We glanced around to see that the pair had already planted themselves into the respective vehicles, Ben in the passenger seat of Michelle's car and Susan in the HumVee. It seemed that we had no choice but to put ourselves into the hands of our resurrected bodies and an unseen guardian.

Two minutes later I watched as Michelle turned left opting for the northerly route. I floored the HumVee and veered to the right. From the rear view mirror I saw her car disappear around a bend in the road.

I could feel Susan's eyes on me. It was troubling to look upon her so I kept my eyes on the road ahead. I could imagine that Michelle was experience similar discomfort.

I cleared my throat and spoke, "I think I should avoid the highway and take this back road coming up on the right."

Her hand reached out and landed upon my arm, "No. They are on that road. You must take the highway."

The entrance ramp for Interstate 95 South was a hundred yards ahead. I stepped on the gas. The inertia of my wild turn onto the looping ramp sent the woman sideways against me. Her hand that had been on my arm landed on my leg, high up on my thigh.

Glancing to the right and past her head I saw the other HumVee emerging from the road I had wanted to take. If I had followed my own judgment we would have ran right into them. Hidden by the craggy rocks lining the ramp we merged onto the highway unseen by our pursuers.

I eased up on the gas until we were traveling within the posted speed limit. Feeling secure on the open road I became more aware of her shoulders against me and her hand on my thigh.

"Ahem, are you trying to see if I'm glad to see you?" I said with nervous sarcasm.

"Oh?" she cried pulling her hand away and pushing herself upright in the passenger seat. "I ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ..."

"No problem," I said. To erase the awkward moment I asked, "What's our destination? Any more from our ... guardian?"

She nodded, "Yes, but I don't understand why we must go there."

"Go where?"

"To the airport. You made reservations for a flight to Las Vegas," she replied with a shrug.

"Whoa, wait a minute!" I exclaimed. I slowed down and pulled over into the breakdown lane. I turned and faced her, "That was only a part of our plan to get you and Ben out of Boston. It was to throw off the Feds."

She blinked her eyes and a glazed appearance came over them. It was apparent that she was straining to receive a mental communique. She lifted her hands up to her temples and muttered, "Sometimes it ... it hurts."

Moments later she gathered her composure and said, "It is imperative that we go there. The guardian is there waiting for us." She looked up at me and shook her head, "The voice is gone. There was nothing more."

I groaned and pushed my head against the headrest. "Can I at least assume that Ben has gotten the same instructions?"

"I ... I guess so."

"Just who's the puppet and who's the puppeteer?" I mumbled. I slammed my fists upon the steering wheel. I spun around to face her and shouted, "Who are you?"

Tears were welling up in the corners of her eyes and she began to sob. "I ... I don't know ... I don't know!" she screeched.

I floored the accelerator and moaned in resignation, "Swell, just swell."

( To be continued ...

Following Michelle's Dream )

№ 2001