Date: Fri, 19 Jun 1998 08:56:30 PDT From: "Lars M. Culverine" Subject: Kidnapping... part VI KIDNAPPING THROUGH THE STREAM OF TIME by Lars M. Culverine (c) 1998 CHAPTER 6. Close Encounters of the Fourth Kind We avalanched downhill. Of course that Michael wouldn't have had any slightest chance against my much faster bike but I always kept a constant challenging distance between us. After some minutes of frantic ride down the hill we emerged from the thin growth surrounding the narrow path appearing afterwards at the brink of a sharply falling ravine. About thirty-to-forty feet beneath us the varieties of the bicross track were visible, all those lowered turns, terrain waves, ditches, humps and other kinds of obstacles. Michael stopped his bike next to me and his eyes widened. The path split in there, one part was turning right, copying the ravine's brink and submerging into the bushes again and after a long ark you could get to the bicross track from another direction. The other side of the path was much more interesting for it didn't end up on the ravine brink, it continued down the hill being broadened and scraped out from frequent brakings. When you were observing it from above you could admire its beautiful yet dangerously-looked hyperbolic shape, where from almost 70 degrees decline at the beginning it broke at the bottom into the opposite climb-up, a mound serving perfectly as a natural starting ramp for the enthusiastic racers. "Well Michael," I declared, "now we have two possibilities. We could either ride down this neat hill... or we'll have to take it this way to the right and we'll come there too but from the other side, slowly, easily, on the path..." An irony provoking not only his but my vanity as well sounded out loud from my voice which of course didn't have to wait long for an appropriate reaction. We looked at each other and with a knowing broad smile on both of our faces we uttered in unison: "Ummmm-hummmm!" However, when we looked back at the abyss underneath, our smiles froze on our lips very quickly. It was really a HUGE piece of slope. I felt as if some doubts were sneaking into our minds, making us unsure of what to do and so I decided to try it first. I closed my eyes and darted forward, whizzing down like a cannonball, my bike rocketed up and within no more than four seconds I stopped on the top of the bearded mound. Before Michael could realize, he stood above ALL ALONE. Now we were split by some dozen feet from each other but in spite of that range I could still feel the boy's nervousness, shiver, distrust. I knew this was the right time to encourage him. I called out: "This is the last part of the Path of Death! Don't be afraid of it and you'll make it!" The boy revived a bit but he was still hesitating. Suddenly I got an idea. "You must believe in yourself!" I urged, "remember the brave Atreyu!" This did the work. I observed, like in slow motion, as the boy closed his eyes, as he straightened his muscles and, encouraged, hit the pedals. He immediately shot forward avalanching down the path. He let out a yelp, whether from fright or delight was hard to say, his little voice trembled as his bike cavorted in high-speed around the rugged terrain, his body twitched as he vaulted over the bottom of the hill running up again inertially and in the next moment he landed next to me again, he hit the brakes and stopped. He was breathing heavily, his eyes beaming as usual but their expression surprized me. It was something new! It was no more the honest, innocent, joyful astonishment like before but a passionate, restless, wild expression, an expression the more sincere, a grin of a little predator that has already caught his prey indulging the delight of the feast at the moment... The boy couldn't move for a while, he just stood there, still breathing heavily. He quieted down eventually and he stated, amazed: "I... I made it..." Then he realized what he said, his eyes widened and he exclaimed in pleasure: "Yeah! I made it!" He looked at me, shivering from joyful excitement. I smiled at him: "It was really great! You're a brave, courageous boy!" "Thanks," the boy peeped and he blushed slightly, after he had admitted: "I... I was afraid a l'il bit there above, but." "Sure but it's not the point," I said, "it's important that you got over your own fear at last. Like Atreyu did." Michael smiled, a bit embarassed. Then he revived and asked: "How 'bout a race? Can we have a race?" "Sure, why not," I said, faking fierce, "but remember I won't give you a chance!" The boy giggled. "We'll see," he croaked, imitating my voice intonation, trying to look fierce as well. As we were just about to engage our positions on the start-field something loud and cracky sounded behind us. We both turned our heads and we saw a bike rider as he emerged from the bushes on the brink of the Path. He stopped there and looked at us. Then he hit his pedals... and dashed down the Path the same wild way as we did before. In the next moment he came up and stopped not even 5 feet from us. It was a little boy, maybe some years younger than Mikey and from where I could see him, he appeared to be very cute, right at first sight. Hair in the shade of light-brown, cut short at the back, long strands falling in front over his forehead into his eyes, marvellous pale-blue starlets with long thick eyelashes that granted a wondering, almost shy expression in his sympathetic little face. He was a bit shorter than Mikey and he wore a big Florida Panthers T-shirt that fluttered on his slender little body as if belonging originally to someone almost twice taller. He also wore denim shorts, obviously former jeans short-ripped into the new shape. His purple, scarry BMX, was full of spots and proofs of wild boy-rides, the boy himself wore no helmet, he only has his gloves and knee-shields put. He looked rather surprised as if not expecting us to appear here. "May I join?" he asked shyly. "Well yeah, sure," I shrugged. Michael sent a strange look at me, he wanted to say something but I incounspicuously, very knowingly nodded to the other boy, then I turned back to Michael and winked at him conspiratorily. Michael seemed to get it. As if we mutualy read our minds. *You mean to...* *Sure, you to race with him!* "Hi," the boy greeted. "Hi," I greeted back and Michael added: "Hello!" The other boy heard the "hello" from Michael and looked rather amazed. Oh, I've almost forgotten, I realized, we gotta do something about this, too. Michael looks like he comes from the present time now but he still talks the way he was used to seventy years ago, with all that strange accent! I added quickly: "Well, nice to meet you, I'm Michael and this is... Michael too!" I said, smiling. The boy giggled: "Yeah, right. I'm Jimmy." Then he wondered: "You guys ain't bro's?" "No, you know, we're... cousins," I said hesitantly, catching an inconspicuous, curious look from my little name-sake. Then I added, more self-confident: "We were just about to race together. You can join us if you want." "Can I?" his eyes widened. "Sure. You can race with Michael right here. I'm gonna measure it, what do you guys say?" "Okay," the little Jimmy smiled and moved to the start. Michael followed him. I joined to them and arranged solicitously both of their bikes into the same level behind the start line and said to both boys in a serious voice: "All right, now we have two champion challengers (fit of giggles) There can be only one. May the best win but fair, no cheats, is it clear?" Both challengers nodded eagerly. "All right... ready... steady... GO!" I shouted and simultaneously pressed the start button in the stopwatch mode of my SEIKOs. Both little racers sling-shot from the start point, they pedalled frantically up to the mirageous speed and they vaulted down over the terrain wave. In the next moment they emerged again approaching the first curve. It was a very even battle. At first, Michael was leading the race for long time meanwhile Jimmy always stayed a bit back, then they changed their roles and since the other half of the track Jimmy took over, having my little name-sake in a hot pursuit behind. Then Mikey managed to overtake his rival, reaching the first place again but the oath wanted everything to be clear only after the last obstacle. The last obstacle was a broad, shallow ditch across the track. Both boys were approaching almost at the same time but suddenly Jimmy furiously hit the brakes and Michael obtained an unexpecting advantage. He went onto the border of the ditch at full speed and flew almost 5 feet in the air. Meanwhile Jimmy jumped over the ditch at decreased speed, as if knowing the tricks and traps in there, he thudded on the other side and continued in his ride whereas Mikey hit the ground heavily with his bike and he has a handful job to keep his balance and not to miss the track. He made it perfectly, however, and darted forward again but those moments of hesitation were decisive. There were only 50 feet left to the finish and even if Michael rode as much as he could he couldn't beat the Jimmy's diminutive advance. And so, with lap time 1:12'56" little Jimmy arrived to the finish first and my little hero came 2 seconds and 27 hundredth later. I dashed to them. "Wow, what a race!" I shouted, "you guys were both excellent! And it was a thrilling race 'till the end!" I came up to the both exhausted little riders, they both were breathing heavily, a huge fatigue in their faces evident, drops of sweat glistening on their foreheads, all muscles shaking, they maybe even didn't realize who has just won. "Racers, watch out!" I called out loud, "race results approaching." Both boys revived although it has been already all clear. "Jimmy: time 1:12'56", first place. Mikey: time 1:15'23", second place. Congratulations!" Michael flagged his head. He lost the race! Jimmy's eyes glared with joyful excitement. He exclaimed, pleasured: "I won! Yeah, I won! That's awesome!" He jumped off the bike wanting to share his pleasure with me and with his little opponent but when he saw Michael standing there so sad and stunned he came close to him, he embraced him around his shoulders and started to comfort him: "It's ok, buddy. You know you're the very first I' ever beaten here?" Michael looked at him amazed: "Really?" "Yeah, I' never beaten anyone since we were ridin' here with other boys so far. You almost got me, but," Jimmy declared appreciatively, "you know, there, by the big curve leadin' down where you escaped me pretty fast. If the ditch wasn't there... hey, why did you went so fast over it? Don't you know what does it do to you if you go like that?" "I dunno, I went this race for my first time..." Michael admitted embarassed. "No way, it's impossible!" Jimmy exclaimed in distrust. "Well yes it is, i'n'it? Michael, say that's true," Mikey turned to me and I could only confirm his words. Jimmy stayed like frozen on the spot: "It's impossible..." he whispered, "he DIDN'T know about! He'd win if he did!" He sat down on the grass, crestfallen and sighed: "Damn! Why am I always THIS weak so that everyone might win over me!" Michael dismounted the bike, he took off his helmet and gloves putting everything on the grass and sat down next to little Jimmy. I followed his example. We both could see those black clouds in Jimmy's mind and we both wanted to get them away by encouraging him. I was suddenly struck by an idea: "Well maybe this isn't your fault. Maybe your bike is to blame." "Oh, no, my bike's all right, it's really great to ride on it," the boy objected, "I sure have no problem with it!" "May I check it a bit?" I asked. "Well yeah, sure," Jimmy agreed, "I don't think it'll help anyway." I give a thorough examination to his scarry BMX and after a while I made a diagnosis: "Well, so far so good. Only the chain requires to straighten, the handle-bars need to be levelled but what's the most important: both of your wheels hitch! It requires to check and adjust the bearings inside. Tell your dad about it so that he could help you with it." Little Jimmy jerked and said silently: "I don't have daddy. I live only with my mom. My daddy left us long ago. Mommy says he's in heaven, with angels." He said and a tear glistened in the corner of his beautiful eyes. Oh, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! Me and Mikey looked into each other's eyes. Mikey got it and sat next to his little friend, he embraced him around his shoulders and said: "It's all right, buddy, he just didn't know 'bout what happened to yer daddy. Pleez don't be sad, okay? You know I too don't have my daddy nor my mommy! And they kept me in orphy until my cousin Michael was old'nuff to take care of me, now I moved to him, he's really great." "He's like your daddy now?" Jimmy asked. "No, he's like my older brother," Mikey answered. "You don't miss your mommy or daddy?" "Well, you know... I' ne'er seen 'em anyway, they left me when I was born so I can't remember 'em. But they're sure in heaven with angels, too." I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. Wow, I don't think I would say it any better! I only hoped that some day this merciful lie will be forgiven. However, Michael continued. He looked hesitantly into little Jimmy's eyes: "You know, I' just moved here and I ain't got buddies here yet, so... if you want to...'d you like to be my buddy?" he almost whispered. The little one could only nod, speechless and both boys hugged tightly, spontaneously. My heart melted as I watched the most sincere and most innocent demonstration of friendship between two little boys. They held their arms around their necks and shoulders and they smiled at each other. Then Jimmy asked: "What 'bout him?" and nodded to me. "He'll be our big brother, you will, won't you?" Mikey turned to me and smiled. "'Course I will," I smiled back at them. Suddenly Jimmy stunned. "You guys have any watch?" he asked, "I forgot to take mine!" I threw a brief glimpse to my infallible chronometron. "It'll be two p.m., in about twenty minutes," I said. Jimmy jumped back on his feet: "Wow, I gotta dash! I'm s'pposed to be at home at 2. Seeya, guys! I'll be back 'round three. Pleez be there, too, okay?" "Sure," I said, "and we could then repair the bike of yours either at our place or at your place, what do you say?" "That would be great! Thanks, sure I'll come!" the little one exclaimed in delight. "C-ya!" he waved and he was off. Both me and Michael just stood there for a while and watched over him until Jimmy's little figure vanished from our sight. "What do you think about him?" I asked silently. Mikey cuddled to me without a word spoken and whispered: "He's great! Like he was my baby brother! I like him! And I like you, too. I... I don' wanna go back! Never more!" "This won't happen, don't be afraid! I'll do my best so that you could stay here!" I ensured him. Michael's eyes widened: "Ever and forever?" "Ever and forever," I whispered. + + + 1000 yards from where both Michaels just went on their conversation a black van with federal government number plate stood aside of the road. Its roof was filled by something very much like a satellite receiver. There were two people sitting inside, a man with tiny rounded specs on his nose and with headphones put on his ears, about thirty-to-thirty-five years old and a grey-haired boss in his late forties. The older one poured some coffee from the "G.I." thermos flask into the cup and mimicked to his younger colleague who took off his headphones and rewound the tape on the recorder some inches back. Then he switched on the outer speaker system and pressed the appropriate button to replay the record. There was an audible noise, then some cracklings, twittering birds and then a young male voice whispered: "What do you think about him?" And a clear boyish voice answered: "He's great! Like he was my baby brother! I like him! And I like you, too. I... I don' wanna go back! Never more!" And the dialogue went on: "This won't happen, don't be afraid! I'll do my best so that you could stay here!" "Ever and forever?" "Ever and forever." Special agent Lennox stopped the record and looked knowingly at his colleague. He nodded, without a word spoken. The grey-haired man looked back at him and nodded as well. Then he sipped a draught of his coffee and said silently: "Yes, it's him!" "Are we going to do anything?" Lennox asked. The anonymous grey-haired forty-niner even didn't lift his eyes from his coffee and uttered just: "Nope. Not yet." Not yet.