Spirit's Gate

7/31/2019 Spirit's Gate

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Spirit's Gate

S. E. Smith

Copyright 2012 Scott Emory Smith


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The Signal 3

Surprises 12

Protests 20

Arrival 30

The Lie 38

Order 49

The T Across from Me 57

Seeking Justice 66

A Sick Girl 76

The Hunted 82

A Short Car Ride 94

Doors to Nowhere 102

Jo Anne and Mt. McGregor 118

On Behalf of the Light 129

A Capture and a Call 140

Stories to Tell 154


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Chapter I: The Signal

In the year 2017 the city of New Braunfels, Tx was still fairly small, nestled up

against the hills of the Balcones Fault. On the partly cloudy day of November12th, three teenage friends were lying silently upon the roof of an old house

surrounded by oak trees, not far from the Comal River.

I hate this town, said Claire Garrett before taking a sip of soda.

Why? asked her friend Will Sutherland.

Because theres nothing to do!

What do you mean? Were lying on Angelas roof eating beef jerky andlistening to the wind in the trees. Thats something to do. He sat up, his bulgingshoulder muscles flexing automatically.

You aresuch an old man, said Angela Culwell, shaking her head and grinning

at her boyfriend.

No, just easily amused, replied Claire.

Hey, now, theres a difference between one being easily amused and being ableto amuse oneself, said Will, pointing his piece of jerky at Claire.

She shrugged. Okay, fine. But still, what do we have here?

Schlitterbahn, replied Angela, her voice revealing her thought of 'here she goesagain.'

Claire raised her hands and made a noise of sarcastic awe. Alright, theres aboutseven days worth of fun out of certain months of the year.

Wurstfest and Oktoberfest. And theres Natural Bridge, offered Will.

Youre proving my point, actually. What else were you going to say? Final

Frontier? All tourist traps. The other cities have malls, great restaurants, big

parks, stuff like that.

Angela sighed. Oh, yes, I forgot that you hate floating on the river."


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Well, only because I cant seem to figure out when I can go to avoid the idiotswho bring an extra tube for their beer cooler. Besides, the waters too cold right

now.

I dont know, said Will. It feels pretty good after an hour and a half offootballpractice.

A woman's voice came from below. "Angela? Are you up there?"

"Yes, Mom. Sorry. We'll get down."

"That's okay. There's something on the news, though, that I think y'all will want

to see."

The friends glanced at each other curiously. "Thanks. We'll probably come down

in a minute."

"It's a pretty big deal." The front door could be heard closing behind Mrs.

Culwell.

Will descended the ladder first so that he could hold it for Angela and Claire. "It

had better not be another huge terrorist attack."

"Let me check my phone," replied Angela. "It'll be all over the internet by now ifthat's the case."

"Are you even old enough to remember 9/11?" asked Claire. "I don't really

remember it."

"Well, some of us didn't skip a grade," said Will as Angela descended. "That

being said, I barely do. Mostly I remember not understanding what was going on.

But after the footage was all over the place for the ten-year anniversary, I can say

that I never want that to happen here ever again. I don't even want to see that

footage at the twenty-year mark." He squinted disapprovingly at Angela when

she got to the ground. "You really shouldn't be trying to use your phone when

you climb a ladder, you know."

Claire frowned. "Hey, now. You're not her boss!" It was rather unlike Will to

make a comment like that to anyone, let alone to Angela.


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"Don't worry about it," said Angela to Claire. "And you don't worry, either, my

darling. I'm a big girl and can take responsibility for myself."

Will grinned."I'm just watching out for you. It would wound me deeply to see

you get injured." He held his hands to his chest.

Angela giggled while Claire chortled. "That's so sweet of you to say!" Angela

pretended to sigh with infatuation.

"I mean it, though. I'm a linebacker, but your dad still scares me. He'd break me

in half!" They laughed.

The teenagers walked into the house and found the news report paused as the rest

of the Culwell family waited for them in the living room. Mr. Culwell pressedPlay.

"...source confirms that Final Frontier, a corporation based out of Canyon Lake,

Texas, about fifteen miles north of San Antonio, and specializing in leisure

spaceflights, satellite deployment, near-Earth meteor harvesting, and Moonmining, is the first among many such companies to have reached an object

nearing Earth which is said to be emitting a weak but distinguishable signal."

"Why didn't they say New Braunfels?" asked Tim, Angela's nine-year-old

brother.

"Hush," commanded his mother, while Claire chuckled to herself.

A former N. A. S. A. employee was now shown on the screen. Somehow the

news team had already found the perfect man to interview: his youthful facial

features gave him credibility as someone fairly up-to-date with N. A. S. A.'s

goings-on, while his salt-and-pepper hair made it clear that he had been there for

a long time. "This retrieval is the farthest that any manned spacecraft has gone

from Earth to date. Had this happened ten years ago, when N. A. S. A. was the

dominant player in manned space missions, we might have had to let this one slipby."

The reporter appeared again on the screen. "Most of the only other information

our network has at this point are some images from several satellite telescopes.

The object being retrieved is estimated to be 110 feet in length and roughly

cylindrical. Final Frontier is rumored to be bringing the object down in the Gulf


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of Mexico. Sources confirm that they have declined government assistance or

security in this process."

The screen was now split with the news anchors, just before cutting out the field

reporter. "Thank you, Mark, and we'll be coming back for information as it

comes in," said one of the anchors. "In related news, several world leaders are

already en route to New York, demanding an impromptu meeting of the UnitedNations. Sources confirm that at least seven European states are calling for the

U. S. to share in the discovery..."

"Anyway," said Mrs. Culwell, turning the volume down, "I figured you kids

would want to see that right away."

"Well, it isn't terrorists," said Claire.

"Thank God," replied Will. He really did look relieved. "But what is it, then?"

"Aliens!" said Tim.

"Don't be stupid," said Angela, punching Tim in the arm. Tim stuck his tongue

out at her, puffing his chest out to act like the punch hadn't hurt.

"Looks like one of our probes got caught on a meteor," said Mr. Culwell. "That

is, if Final Frontier didn't plant something on a rock to make a big publicitystunt."

"They wouldn't do that," said Claire, annoyed.

Mr. Culwell raised his eyebrows at the challenge. He and Claire had often had

tense moments all throughout Claire's friendship with Angela, so all present

instinctively braced themselves."Oh yeah? And how do you know?"

"My sister works there." Claire was confused; did he not know this? She knew

that Mrs. Culwell knew, but she had never told Mr. Culwell directly; perhaps

Mrs. Culwell had never mentioned it to her husband. Meanwhile, Claire was also

confounded over Angela's motions; she was drawing her hand quickly across her

throat.

Mr. Culwell sat up in his chair. "Since when?"

"Last June."


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"You've got to be kidding me!" Mr. Culwell threw his hat on the floor, jumped

out of his chair, and stormed down the hall, hurling insults at the walls, floor, and

ceiling. Angela grabbed Will's hand and began pushing Claire out the front door.

"Thanks for showing us, Mom. We'll be out walking the river for a bit."

Mrs. Culwell sighed, her face already buried in her hands. "That's probably for

the better. Don't be out too late."

"Yes, ma'am."

As they left the driveway, Claire asked, "What was that all about?"

Angela stared at Claire for a moment. "You don't remember?"

Claire thought about it. "Well, actually, I remember that your dad worked for

Final Frontier for a bit. But didn't he quit a long time ago?"

"I thought he got fired, although I don't remember when," said Will. He then

looked as if he shouldn't have said anything.

Angela sighed. "He did. And it was last May. He says it was unfair of them to do

it. I don't know the details. But he hasn't found much work since then, and I think

it's making him even more bitter."

Claire hung her head. "Sorry. I wish I had known before opening my big mouth.Why didn't you tell me he was fired?"

"I figure that the fewer people that know about it, the less of an issue it will be.Besides, I'm pretty sure he hasn't even told his friends. You know how prideful

my dad is. Will only knows because he's here just about every day." Angela put a

hand on Claire's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. He'll cool off. Let's talk about

something else; we're almost to the river." Claire nodded, but she felt very uneasy

inside. First, there had been Will's comment at the base of the ladder, and now

this. She was feeling rather left out; it was a feeling she was used to getting from

a lot of other people, but not from her best friend. Not wanting to suspect the

worst, she decided to wait and bring it up later.

Despite how much they wanted to, Angela and Will knew that Claire would

quickly become annoyed if they were to seriously speculate about what was

really going on up in the sky. They had discovered, though, that if they were to


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do it jokingly Claire would be more than willing to participate. So as they walked

along the Comal River they joked about the object being a secret, experimental

government satellite designed to control the world by continuously beamingreruns of shows such as The Hills and The Jersey Shore into the minds of all

people.

"No, I've got it," said Angela between peals of laughter. "It's a satellite withmissiles ready to be fired at the offices of big Wall Street bankers."

"Don't make me fantasize," warned Claire. She cracked a smile; she was feeling a

little better, and decided to swallow her displeasure for the time being.

"I think aliens are probably pretty angry," said Will, "if you look at the way we

depict them in movies, especially in the old ones that are just now getting to otherstars. The radio waves, I mean. Maybe we're the ones with huge heads, you

know?"

Claire snickered. "We already talked earlier about how we depict ourselves in

television and movies, though, so I'm not sure about that one."

"Hey, Will!" shouted someone up ahead from the bed of a pickup truck.

"Great," said Will. "Let's avoid them, please."

"Why?" asked Angela. "Who is that?"

"Some of Bryce's teammates in basketball. They used to come over all the time

when I was younger, before I started playing football. They thought my

scrawniness gave them an excuse to do about whatever they wanted with me."

He continued staring at the pickup truck with resentment.

Angela nodded. "Oh. Sorry. Alright, let's turn here."

"Whoa! Willy's got two of them with him!" Excited sounds were heard from

several sources. "Come over here, Will!"

"Buzz off!"

The boy leaning over the side of the bed waved his arms. "No, we don't want to

bother you! We promise! You know that stuff they're talking about up in space?"


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Will looked confused and rather suspicious. "Yes. We've heard all that already."

"No, there's more that they just announced. They're saying it's probably aliens!"

"What?" asked the trio of each other. Reluctantly, after a moment's deliberation,

Will led the girls to the bed of the truck, where several seniors from NewBraunfels High School were sitting around a portable radio. One of them turned

the volume knob to the right, amplifying the voice on the radio.

"...we just learned that the signal being monitored follows no publicly known

patterns. If the N. S. A., C. I. A., any other intelligence organization, or a private

entity recognizes the characteristics of this signal, no one has come forth to say

so."

"That doesn't mean anything," said Claire.

"Were you not listening?" asked a hook-nosed boy in the bed of the truck.

"Yes, I was. They said they don't know. It's a long way from there to aliens."

"...President Carmichael is set to give a press conference within the hour

concerning the discovery."

"Forget that guy," said another of the boys, this one more stout that the others.

Claire glared at him. "Well, I'll want to be home for that. Do you two mindcoming to my house?"

"I don't," said Will, and Angela shook her head. "You guys take it easy," he toldthe other boys.

No one but Mrs. Garrett was home when they arrived at Claire's house. Claire

took a guess and yelled toward the kitchen. "Mom, Will and Angela are herewith me."

Her mother peeked around for a moment and waved. "Okay. Where's Carl?"

Claire walked into the kitchen and tossed her head to the side in annoyance.

"Really, Mom?"


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Mrs. Garrett's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, is this his weekend to go to

Toledo? Has it been a month already?"

"It has. Where's Dad?"

"I had him run to the store for some last minute things. Jill is coming home thisweekend."

Claire smiled. "Cool. Hey, why isn't the TV on?"

Mrs. Garrett motioned to the counter. "I've been busy in here. Should it be on?"

"Have you not heard the news?"

Mrs. Garrett shook her head. "I haven't. I guess you should fill me in.

Claire sighed and turned the television on to a news channel. The anchors and

reporters were repeating everything that the teens had seen and heard, but Mrs.

Garrett watched it all for the first time, a worried look growing on her face.

Claire raised an eyebrow at her mother's expression. "Mom, don't worry. It's

going to be alright."

"Maybe," she replied.

President Carmichael's press conference aired soon thereafter. He began by

urging "the citizens of this great nation to remain calm and not to jump toconclusions or take drastic measures of any kind until more information was

known." Through another fifteen minutes of speaking he also called upon Final

Frontier to "embrace a policy of transparency, as it is the duty of all people and

businesses to share information that is important to the public."

"Well, that was useful," joked Angela as President Carmichael began taking press

questions.

"It was," replied Claire, masking her annoyance. "He said nothing I would

disagree with. He's being a great leader." She began right away to plan on not

being in the room when her father watched a replay of the speech.

The next day very little was accomplished in any of Claire's classes (she

suspected that the same was true throughout the school, except, perhaps, in those

classes taught by rather hard-nosed teachers). This was especially true of her


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physics teacher, Mr. Prambs, who was inundated with questions despite his initial

disclaimer that he knew little more than they about astronomy, space travel, and

the like. Eventually he resigned his efforts to get the class on track, connected theoverhead projector to his computer, and began running requested internet

searches.

The few peers of Claire's who knew beforehand about her sister's work for FinalFrontier were very inquisitive. News of the connection spread like wildfire, and

soon she could not escape the looks, the questions, and, eventually, the mockery

that was directed her way. She texted Carl again; he did not mention that he had

told her so, but the night before he had, in fact, predicted that those same things

would happen. "I miss you," he replied to her many lines of frustration. "I'm

sorry. I can't wait to be there with you so we can watch this unfold together."

"Me too."


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Chapter II: Surprises

On her way from school that same day, Claire came around the corner of the

block where her house was and broke into a dead sprint, drawing amused staresfrom the neighbors who happened to be outside. Everyone on the block knew

Jill's car, and they all knew about her employment at Final Frontier.

Jill stepped through the front entrance onto the patio as Claire was mounting the

steps. "You're here!" cried Claire as she embraced her sister.

"You're plenty excited, I see."

"Well, of course. If you didn't come this weekend I was gonna go crazy from

boredom."

Jill laughed. "What, is Carl not here to stoke your coals?"

"He's in Toledo."

"You have a cell phone, though. Unless you think I'm talking about a different

stoking."

"It's not the same, and no, I know what you're talking about." Claire rolled her

eyes while shaking her head.

"I had just pulled in when I heard you running up the sidewalk. I didn't really get

to say hi to Mom; she was in the bathroom." They stepped inside.

"Hey, now that you're here, maybe Mom will make homemade pizza for us!" said

Claire at volume which made it obvious she wanted her mother to hear the

statement.

"Maybe she will," said Mrs. Garrett. "Hi, honey. How are you?" she asked as shehugged her older daughter.

"I'm fine, other than the obvious pains I'm having to take to avoid attention."

"Tell me about it!" said Claire. "I'm your sister, and I get enough as it is."


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"Yeah...sorry about that. I'll think next time I get to decide to be someone's

sister."

Im surprised that theyve let you leave, what with all the buzz about that thing

you pulled down from the sky, said Mrs. Garrett.

I didnt pull it down. It isn't even down yet. Anyway, Mom, dont think thatliving out in Startzville has made me forget your ways of making me say more

than I want.

Its a real shame, said Mr. Garrett's voice from the recliner in the living room.

What is? asked Jill. The ladies walked into the living room.

Look, Im all for discovery and progress. But its a shame that it had to comehere.

Seriously, said Claire. All that publicity to show the world just how boring

this little town is.

Oh, it wont be boring for long. You wait a week. This town will be crawlingwith socialists and other nutjobs demanding to see whats in there. The

governors gonna have to call in the National Guard to help keep the peace, so

things will end up being even more ridiculous. And thats before Congress votesto confiscate whatever it is and sends its people in here.

Dad, Congress cant do that, objected Jill with a sigh. That would violate theFourth Amendment.

He lowered the newspaper and looked at his daughters. Theyve found ways

around the Constitution before, and theyll do it again even faster because theyregood at it. Besides, even if yall could fight it, you couldnt do much until it getsin front of a judge, and by then your discoverys out in the open and the feds

have had their hands all over it. He stood up and headed to the bathroom. Clairerolled her eyes and shook her head as she walked over to the couch.

"Don't tell me you're letting Dad get you to you!" exclaimed Jill. She rubbed

Claire's head in jest.

"I'm not, really. But, then again, has Dad ever called you a nutjob?"


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Jill looked up in thought. "Probably not." She shrugged. "But you know Dad. He

loves you as you are, no matter what."

"Indeed, he does," said Mrs. Garrett. "Would you girls mind helping me in the

kitchen?"

"Depends," said Jill while winking at Claire.

"What are you making?" asked Claire with a grin.

Mrs. Garrett glared while leaning on one hip and folding her arms. "If you help,

it'll be pizza. If not, pot roast."

"I was just asking so I could help get the ingredients," replied Claire, snickering."I don't know about Jill over here." The girls laughed as Mrs. Garrett rolled her

eyes.

The next morning Claire woke up well before most of her peers, and would have

done so even if her parents had not also been up early to visit furniture stores in

Austin. 'They're probably going to eat at Nutty Brown's on the way back, too,'

thought Claire, shaking her head in jealousy. 'But they're busy and don't get muchtime to themselves.'

She looked into Jill's room. As she expected, Jill was still asleep. 'I get some timeto myself as well, if that's the case.' After quietly grabbing an apple she slipped

out the front door and walked down the sidewalk. The mornings were starting to

really cool down and the air was dead still. All that she heard was the singing of a

few birds, a car passing down Lockener Avenue as it crossed Prince Drive, and

the Grannons setting up a garage sale.

This morning in particular was unusually cold for mid-November; Claire was not

used to seeing her breath during the day until the end of the semester or later. The

weathermen were saying that it would likely be a rather cold winter. Claire

laughed inside, thinking of her peers who had gotten excited at the prospect ofsnow, yet dreadful at the thought of such cold temperatures.

She passed other garage sales already in progress. A good number of potential

customers were driving about, parking bumper-to-bumper in order to rummage

through innumerable trinkets with the hope of finding something to bring home.'What a sad world,' thought Claire, 'where we spend so much time looking for

things to own. Buy, buy, buy, then throw it away once we don't want or need it


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anymore. Or let it fall apart in an attic.' She had gone north on Lockener

Avenue, and she now turned east onto Bell Street. Perhaps she would head up

Rosemary Drive and then walk up Fredericksburg Road for a while. 'Value an

object by how much money it will sell for.' An airplane passed overhead as an old

Skylark spitting black exhaust passed, headed east on Fredericksburg Road.Claire shook her head. 'Move to an environment that can't support you just to

pull expensive materials from the ground.' She was not thinking of New

Braunfels at that moment, but her cousin who had moved to Pecos to work on oilrigs. Claire could not live in a desert. New Braunfels was much nicer, but during

certain years even it could be unbearable for Claire. She wished to move

northeast, maybe near the Great Lakes.

People in that region would probably be more accepting of her, anyway. Few

were her peers at New Braunfels High school that had any fully-formed political

beliefs at all, and hardly any among them saw the good of socialism as she had.

She attributed it mostly to the fact that it took a rare sort of person to break the

mold of society's assumptions, and the society in which they were all growing upwas overwhelmingly of the religious, conservative sort. To Claire this was

contradictory; somehow, a pernicious sense of selfishness had crept into a belief

system that supposedly espoused selflessness for the good of others. The

separation of individuality was infecting the so-called Body of Christ. Why could

they not all see that a truly Christian society would be socialist in nature? Theeye does not choose what it does, but operates as the body directs it and for the

good of the whole body. Even without the Christian perspective it made sense,

but that was the angle she figured was best to use in convincing her friends to

consider her view of things.

She shivered and zipped up her hoodie. Thinking of the Midwest reminded her of

Carl, and she wished he were there with her. For the remainder of her walk she

dreamed of when she and he could move wherever they wanted together.

Jill was watching T. V. when Claire walked back into the house. "Oh, I thought

you went with Mom and Dad since you weren't here when I woke up."

"No, just for a walk."

"You've been gone a while," said Jill, glancing at a clock on the wall. "I've

almost been awake an hour."

Claire shrugged. "I just thought I'd walk until I was tired."


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"Well, that's certainly you. I hope you're not tired, because there's a surprise here

for you."

"A surprise?"

"Surprise!" said Carl, stepping from around the hallway corner.

"You're here!" shouted Claire, embracing him.

"Wow," exclaimed Jill. "He's only been gone two days, but you might be more

excited than you were when I got home after three weeks."

"I didn't get to see him on Thursday," said Claire, grinning. Jill chuckled. Claire

reached up to tousle Carl's hair, which was almost at the end of her reach. "Youweren't supposed to be back until tomorrow."

"My dad had to report to D. C., so I got sent home early."

"What's in D. C.?" asked Jill.

"My dad works for the D. E. A. All I know is that it's something really big that

they need him for."

"And he got this call yesterday?"

"He did."

"Strange," said Jill under her breath.

Carl and Claire separated, though they continued holding hands. "I hear that

you've got something big and secret going on as well," he said to Jill.

"I do." Jill nodded. "I can't say much, though, just that it involves an old friendfrom high school."

"Wait, what?" asked Claire. Carl's face echoed this question.

Jill laughed. "I know what you're really referring to. But...well...you see...don't

say anything to Mom and Dad just yet, alright?"


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"I won't," said Claire as Carl pulled shut the invisible zipper of his lips.

"Do you remember Randall?"

"Of course," answered Claire, a sly grin starting to form on her face.

"Well, he's moved back...and he wants to see me again."

Claire smiled. "An old flame?" asked Carl.

"Yes."

"What do your parents have against him, if he makes you so happy?"

Jill sighed. "He didn't do it often, but he smoked weed on occasion. I have no

idea if he does it anymore." She smiled. "Don't tell your dad, either, okay?"

Carl popped his eyebrows in sarcasm. "You're assuming I tell my dad much of

anything."

Jill frowned. "Sorry, don't mean to step on any toes here."

Carl shook his head."You're not. Things between us were awkward for a while

even before the divorce. I still go see him because I know that if I don't, someday

I'll wish I had."

"I can't disagree with that."

"Did you bring anything with you?" asked Claire of Carl.

"I did, actually, since we have that math test coming up. I figured you'd want to

study."

"Study?" asked Jill with a wink.

"Yes, study," replied Claire. "We were even going to do it right here in front of

you." They all laughed.

Claire's father had recently been requested to work on Saturday afternoons, andtoday was no exception, even with Jill visiting. Early in the afternoon Jill was


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reading a book while Carl and Claire were working on homework together. Mrs.

Garrett was pressing a blouse for work on Monday when she sighed and said,

"Oh, no."

"What's the matter, Mom?" said Claire, not looking up from her Algebra II

textbook.

"Your father forgot his lunch again. Will you hop on your bike and take it to

him?"

"Dad forgets his lunch and I have to spend forty minutes of my time bringing it

to him?" She was still staring at her textbook in case this tactic worked.

"I could sympathize with you if you cooked dinner for yourself all the time,"replied Mrs. Garrett, leaning into the living room and giving her daughter a sternglance.

"Sorry, Claire," said Carl. "If I had known this would happen I would have

driven here and not cared about surprising you."

"Don't worry. I'll be right back." She put her hoodie on and jerked the bag from

her mother's hands. She pedaled non-stop, wanting this to be over as quickly as

possible. At least it had warmed up since her walk that morning.

On the east side of Fredericksburg Road, just south of Landa Park, stood a small

metal building with some of Final Frontier's offices; some tents had been erected

in the park itself. Claire noticed around ten people in plainclothes milling about,

as well as a small sign lying on its side and displaying the phrase "No Corporate

Secrets."

'Brilliant,' she thought, mouthing her thought as she often would when feeling

sarcastic. 'I'll have to embarrass them on my way back through. It's too bad,

because they're doing the right thing. I don't want to alienate myself before I'm

old enough to get involved.' Not that it mattered: she had no intention of stayingnear New Braunfels after graduating from high school.

It amazed her that there would be work to do at Schlitterbahn this late in the year.

Was there no time during the night to do the inventory, inspections, repairs, and

upgrades? It seemed like it ought to be much easier than the management

claimed. 'I could make this place run a lot more efficiently.' But she wouldn't stay

there to do so. Not for a million dollars.


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"I'm here to see Richard Garrett," she said to the security guard at the small gate

in front of the offices. "He forgot his lunch."

The guard smiled. "You must be Dick's daughter. You look a lot like Miranda."

"One of them, yes. I'm Claire."

"John. Hey, don't let me keep you waiting. It's nice to meet you."

"You too."

She hoped her dad hadn't seen the protestors gathered in the park. Carl might not

have been the kind to say "I told you so," but one of the main reasons she was

dating him was just that: he was very little like her father. She certainly wouldnot bring it up on her own; she tried to think of ways to change the subject if it

came up.

"Hey, Dad. Mom sent this with me because you forgot it."

Mr. Garrett looked up from his work. "Hey, sweetie. Hmm, I suppose I did.

Thank you for bringing it to me. I owe you an ice cream." He looked at her for a

moment, then turned back to his desk, accepting with grace the fact that she was

hanging back from him so that he wouldn't kiss her forehead in public as he used

to when she was little, and still did from time to time.

Claire sat in a chair in front of his desk. "Why are you guys here on a Saturday? I

can never get a good answer out of Mom, and I always forget to ask you by the

time you get home."

He shook his head. "We're way behind."

"Way behind with what?"

"Well, for us in here, it's basically an accounting of what we've sold, what we

need to order for next year, if we should change or renegotiate with our suppliers,

and if we need to phase out ideas that aren't selling as well for new ideas that we

think will sell."

"But how can it take this long? Neither you, nor Mom, nor me, nor anyone else I

know has bought a thing from this place other than tickets and an occasional

drink."


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A thin smile crossed her father's face. "So, that means that no one does? If you're

using that as some kind of evidence, what would it be called?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "Circumstantial."

"Exactly. Trust me, I wouldn't be here if there was nothing important to do." Helooked up at the wall clock. "Did you want to stay and eat with me?"

"I didn't think to bring anything. Sorry."

"That's okay. I'll be home before you know it, though not before I know it. I love

you. Be safe riding home."

"Love you too."

She decided on her way out that using the restroom couldn't wait, especially since

she was about to be sitting on a bicycle seat. Upon exiting the restroom she

looked back toward her father's desk. One of his coworkers, an attractive woman

in her late thirties, was leaning in close to Mr. Garrett while pointing out a few

things on several paper documents. She seemed to Claire to be leaning in too

close, and the way she positioned her body seemed, while not completely

sensual, at least not the way that one would hold oneself around any old

coworker. Mr. Garrett appeared oblivious, though, or he was ignoring it, and so

Claire felt relieved that she had nothing to worry about in that regard.


21/164

Chapter III: Protests

Claire hurried back to Landa Park and set her bicycle under a tree. She made her

way over toward a group of about eight people sitting in a circle. There wereabout twenty in all in the park.

"Welcome!" said a woman in her early twenties, who then stood up andapproached Claire. "I'm Wendy. Are you here to join your voice with ours and

stand for the people?"

"I'm Claire," she said. "I'd love to, but shouldn't this be done over at the Canyon

Lake complex?"

"That would have a stronger symbolism to it. Yes, we've talked about thisalready. Part of it is that there's nowhere to put everybody out there. No public

lands, you know, other than a little park in the town, I think, but it's much toosmall. To tell the truth, there's not even enough room here."

Claire looked around. "It looks like you have plenty of room."

Wendy laughed. "Oh, this is just the beginning. Tonight some groups are coming

in from Austin and San Antonio and few other towns around here. Then

tomorrow we'll see people from Dallas and Houston, maybe Amarillo and

Oklahoma City. Then throughout the week people from all over the country areplanning on being here. It's blowing up the Internet. So we're just here to kick

things off and get the visitors settled."

Claire nodded. It was getting harder and harder not to want to be involved."That'sgreat. I can't miss school, but I'll be here as much as I can. Will you be here all

the time?"

"There will always be somebody here."

"Alright. Well, I have to get home. I still have a lot of homework that's due

tomorrow."

"I understand completely. Hey, if you'll wait just a moment, we made a few

flyers." Wendy jogged over to the other protestors, grabbed some flyers out of a

backpack, and jogged back to Claire. "Give these to your classmates."


22/164

"I will. See you soon." In truth, Claire had completed all of her assignments. She

wanted to get back to the house to see Jill as much as possible before she left. But

that would be selfish, and she didn't want to admit that even to herself, let alone alike-minded individual. At least she had resolved to figure out some way to help,

though.

Jill was in the bathroom gathering her toiletries when Claire got home. "I washoping you'd get back before I had to leave."

"Me, too. Am I going to get to see you much, now that all of this crazy secret

stuff is going on?" Claire followed Jill into Jill's old bedroom. "Remind me why

you're heading back already, also."

"Certainly, I'll be back around now and again, I would think. I'll make time to getback here soon. I promise." She hugged her little sister and then began packing

her laptop. "And I have to get back to work on Sunday evening. I told you, thingsare crazy now."

Claire shook her head, glad that it was not her having to work like that. She

reached down and picked up a cat toy that was lying near her feet. She shook it,ringing the small bell attached to the dangling plush end. "Sol!" she called. A

scampering sound was heard in the living room and a large calico cat came

running into the bedroom. Claire whipped the toy back and forth and Sol tried

unceasingly to catch it, spending more time in the air than on the floor.

"Didn't Dad name him Gasoline?" asked Jill.

"Yes. 'Sol' is the middle part."

Jill chortled. "You took his 'most energetic cat' idea and made it even better."

A few minutes later, Claire and her mother watched together as Jill drove away

from the house. "We need to pray for her," said Mrs. Garrett.

"Why?" asked Claire. "There are people everywhere who are in much worse

shape than she is."

"It's just a feeling."

Claire rolled her eyes. 'And this is why I'm not religious.'


23/164

After school on Monday Claire made her way to Landa Park. As Wendy had

mentioned, there were many more people gathered than on Saturday; it seemed

that no more of them would be able to fit in the park. On the other side of theFinal Frontier offices, a small group of Tea Party and other assorted

counterprotestors had gathered as well. Claire sneered in their direction but paidthem no more mind.

She meandered through a colony of tents to a stage that had been erected on a

small knoll. Wendy was standing near it amongst a circle of five or six others.

Claire came up to the circle and stood behind and between two of its members.

She didn't focus on what they were discussing; she was trying to get Wendy'sattention. After about thirty seconds one of the men she was standing behind, a

broad-shouldered blonde with a short beard, not much older than her, turned and

glared at her. "Excuse me, but this is an important committee meeting."

"Hold on, I remember her from yesterday," interjected Wendy, snapping her

fingers as she attempted to remember Claire's name. "It started with a 'C.'"

"Claire."

"That's right. Everyone, meet Claire. She's one of the local high school students

who's come to help out."

Claire was then met with smiles from the rest of the circle; even the gruff blonde

softened when he heard this. Claire added, "And I came to you so I could ask

where to help."

"Well, you came to the right place; the groups that have come so far have elected

us as a ruling committee. Why don't we go over to our tents to talk about it?" The

other members nodded in concurrence.

Claire was led toward a circle of tents set up around a massive oak tree. Stakes

had been placed around the tents and rope tied around the stakes to form acordon. The tents themselves were obviously new and of good quality, with

ample room even for a group as large as theirs to gather in each one.

"Hey!" came a shout from Claire's left. "When you are you going to listen to us?"

"Pay them no mind," muttered the blonde. But Claire was already looking in their

direction.


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"We had that spot first!" yelled a thirty-something man when Claire looked his

way. "They kicked us out!"

Once they were sitting inside one of the tents Wendy put a hand on Claire's

shoulder. "Sorry about that. Obviously the capitalist 'finders-keepers' mentality is

so deeply ingrained...Let's just say it's good that there are people like us around."

Claire nodded. She knew that she was meant to be on a committee like this

before long.

"Alright, let's get back to business," said Wendy to the others. "Where do we

need to put Claire?"

"We need another hand in the food tent," said the blonde.

"Jason says the food tent needs her. Does anyone else know of a need to be filled

right now?"

No one else had anything to suggest. Claire groaned inwardly; she had worked

volunteer food service before, and she had absolutely hated it. 'And the fact that

these aren't homeless people won't make it any better. In fact, it will probably be

worse because we're all spoiled.'

"Are you sure there's not some kind of communications spot I could fill?Something like distributing flyers and pamphlets, or acting as a liaison between

the committee and the rest of the protestors?"

Wendy shook her head. "Everybody wants to hand out flyers, it seems. And

everyone camping here knows that all issues and all newcomers are sent straight

to us. If it gets to where we can't handle all of the complaints and whatnot, then

we'll remember your suggestion. For now, if no one objects, you'll be going with

Jason to work in the food tent." No one objected.

"I'm not needed for anything else, right?" asked Jason.

"No," said Wendy, waving him off. "You're free to go."

"Follow me," he said to Claire, getting up to leave the tent.

Claire followed, taking in everything around her. There certainly was a general

spirit of unity. These were the people with whom she belonged. These were the


25/164

few willing to stand against the privileged. 'Dad would come unglued if he knew Iwas here.' She tried to quell the rising pleasure at the thought.

"So, what grade are you in?" asked Jason.

"Eleventh. What about you? You look like you go to Texas State."

"I do. I'm a freshman."

'Not much older than me. And I'll be 17 before too long.' The greater part of

Claire drew back at this sentiment; it was quite unlike her, especially since she

was with Carl. But Carl didn't share this passion with her...

She decided to keep getting to know Jason. "What's your major?"

"Communications Studies at the moment, but I'm really just getting a feel for

what I want to do, so I think I'm going to switch next semester."

"Yeah, to be honest, I haven't thought much about what I'll want to do in college.

Where are you from?"

"Dallas."

Claire shook her head. "I'm so jealous."

"Why?"

Claire snorted. "Because I live...here." She motioned all around them, raising her

arms to indicate the environment outside the encampment.

"I see what you mean."

They arrived at the mess tent. It was smaller than Claire had expected, especiallyfor the number of people that were said to be on their way. 'Maybe they're going

to expand soon.' In the tent on the left were a variety of books and pamphlets.

The most prominently displayed work was The Communist Manifesto. 'Ofcourse. We have to make everyone think we're here for their stuff.' In the tent onthe right numerous drums of varying size and type were lying about. An unkempt

man in his late twenties sat in a lawn chair and tapped intermittently on a snare

drum, seeming to Claire to be either unable or unwilling to maintain a particular

tempo.


26/164

The mess tent itself was a dingy yellow. 'Like pee,' thought Claire. 'That'll makepeople want to eat.' But, looking around the camp, it seemed to be the best tent

available for the purpose.

"Do they have to put the drummers right next to us?"

"We want the drummers as close to the Final Frontier building possible so that

when they go to work they hear us constantly. The mess tent is here so that the

living space goes uninterrupted. It builds more unity that way."

"That makes sense." It did, but it was going to be incredibly annoying

nonetheless. She looked back across the park and noted that all of the personal

tents had been set up in a particular area, separate from the mess tent and the

tents where the various items were distributed. The personal tents themselves didnot seem to have a particular order, yet Claire noticed as she watched that the

large numbers of people moving about them seemed to have no trouble at allgetting where they wanted to go.

"Claire, you'll be here, making hot dogs. This is Randy, that's Carrie, and over

there is Kelly."

Claire nodded in greeting to each of them.

"And," continued Jason, "I guess you ought to meet Morgen while he's here andno one is getting food." He led her into the drummers' tent. "Morgen, we have a

new girl here, Claire." He stopped and waved his hand vigorously in front of his

nose. "Are you kidding me?"

Claire then detected a faint odor of marijuana smoke.

"You've been smoking weed!"

Morgen looked confused. "Yeah?"

"We told you that you can't do that here!"

"Dude, it's just one bud."

"And just one bud is enough for the cops to go through this whole place, and

you've seen the kind of brutality that will lead to."


27/164

"Alright, I'll stop."

"Did you bring it, or did you buy it here?"

"I bought it here."

"Who sold it to you?"

"I didn't get his name. But he had a mustache and he wore sunglasses and a jean

jacket and a Brewers cap. Does that help?"

"Thank you. No more weed, alright? And none of the other stuff, either." Jason

turned back into the mess tent. "Sorry about that. Now I have to go back to

Wendy and tell her about this." He walked off in a hurry.

Claire looked around and underneath the table in front of her. A stainless steel

pot had been placed on an electric campfire grill, ready to be plugged into an

extension cord coming from somewhere in the back of the tent. Underneath the

table was an ice chest filled with dozens of packages of hot dogs and several

bottles of mustard and ketchup.

Carrie and Kelly were giggling and giving each other amused looks. Claire

quickly became annoyed, especially since the pair looked like they could have

been in a social sorority. "What's so funny?"

"Somebody likes Jason."

Claire sighed. "I think he's good-looking. That's all."

"You were sure giving him some good looks, alright. Do you think you're going

to have a chance with a big leader like that?"

"I wasn't thinking about it in that way. I have a boyfriend already."

The pair rolled their eyes. "Not another one!"

Claire glared at them. "Another what?"

"Look, kid, you have a lot to learn. There's no reason to restrict yourself to one

partner, as long as you're safe about it. You can't let the past dictate your own

choices. You're letting the old accepted ideas get in the way of your life."


28/164

Claire did not reply, but she thought about what those words implied as they

waited in silence for Jason to return. Jason walked behind the barbeque grill set

up next to the hot dog serving table. He said nothing, but turned to stare out at thesmall clearing between the mess tent and the campers' tents.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked this before," said Claire anxiously, "but is it

alright if I leave at about 8:45? My curfew is 9:00 during the school year."

Jason smiled. "That early, huh? Well, I did some calculating based on how things

went yesterday. We really ought to have things dying down at around 7:30."

"Alright, cool. Thanks." The awkward silence returned. Claire stared at Jason

through the corner of her eye. He appeared to continue looking off into space.

Claire was rarely one for small talk; normally she became irritated at theinsistence of some to engage in it. But now it seemed her only possible recourse

against this emotional battle.

"Did I hear correctly," she asked, "that Final Frontier is bringing the object to

earth tomorrow?"

"That's right. In fact, when you arrived we were trying to decide how to get hold

of and set up a projector so that everyone could watch it. We may have to raise

rent to cover that."

"Raise rent?"

Jason looked at Claire with incredulity. "Did you think we were going to be able

to do anything without a tax of some sort? Anyone who camps here has to pay

rent. It's an implicit contract."

Claire nodded, and Jason resumed staring into space.

At 8:45 the line to the mess tent was at its longest of the night. Claire repeatedly

glanced nervously at her phone, trying to convey to Jason that her curfew was

almost up. Finally he got the message. "You can go if you want, but we're going

to be swamped for a bit without you."

Claire continued staring at the line of campers and decided that if she were one of

the ones remaining in the tent, she wouldn't like someone else leaving early.


29/164

After ignoring at least seven calls from her parents, Claire took advantage of a

lull in the line and grabbed her backpack. "I really have to go, guys. Sorry."

"That's fine, we can handle it now. Thanks for staying."

She looked with dread at her phone as she walked toward the tree where she hadchained her bicycle. She cringed; it was nearly 9:40. As she rode down

Fredericksburg Road she began to ponder what excuse she would give her

parents for arriving home so late.

Claire did not get much time to think, because as soon as she had barely gone

two hundred yards a man sitting in a car parked on the left side of the road

honked the horn twice. There were plenty of others milling about, mostly

campers, but she had the feeling that it was intended for her. Instinctively lookingtoward the sound, she saw what she had feared: her father's blue Taurus, his large

silhouette against the streetlight stepping out of the car.

"Young lady! What do you think you're doing?"

"Going home." She slowed to a stop across the street from him.

"Why didn't you answer your phone? You had your mother and me worried

sick."

"Hey!" shouted someone at the edge of the park. "Get away from her, creep!"

"Go away. This is my dad." Claire turned back to her father. "I was busy and I

couldn't answer it. I'm going home now. You can punish me however you want."

She pushed off and began pedaling again before Mr. Garrett could respond. She

heard him curse and slam the car door as he climbed back in.

"There you are!" said Mrs. Garrett when Claire arrived at the house. "I'm glad

you're okay." She made a movement to embrace Claire.

"Of course I'm alright," said Claire, ducking away from her mother's arms.

"Go to your room," ordered Mr. Garrett as he walked through the front door.

"I was already headed that way."


30/164

She closed her bedroom door behind her and collapsed onto the bed without

turning the light on. Tears welled up in her eyes. Now was her chance to really

make a difference, to do the kind of thing she'd always wanted, and she hadalready gone and messed it up.

Now that she was by herself, she could finally allow the tears that had been

building up all evening to flow. Was she really going to betray Carl in this way,wanting to see someone else behind his back? He gave her all of himself; he

deserved no less from her.

She remembered that he had texted her just before she had left the park. She

pulled her phone from the night stand and looked up the message.

"Hey your parents just called asking if you were here. What's going on?"

She replied with, "Nothing, sorry, I was at the protest and got held up. I'm in big

trouble."

She laid her phone next to her head and stared at the ceiling, sighing to quell theremaining sobs. It didn't matter what her parents did to her, other than the

obvious, inevitable forbidding of any more protesting; watching this great event

unfold right in front of her and being unable to participate was the worst thing

imaginable.

From the closet came a soft meow, and then a purring sound approached the bed.

"Come here, Sol." Sol jumped onto the bed and lay down on Claire's stomach.

She petted him, which, combined with his purring, soothed her. "What should I

do, Sol?" He continued purring, occasionally rubbing his face against her hands.

Claire fell asleep before Carl's reply came, and it did not wake her. Mr. Garrett,

seeing that she was asleep when he went in to announce her punishment, decided

to let it wait until morning, kissing her on the cheek before closing the door for

the night.


31/164

Chapter IV: Arrival

The next day, Mr. Prambs had the computer in the classroom hooked up to the

projector, as the object was scheduled to be brought down in the Gulf of Mexicowhile Claire was in his class. Speculation continued to abound among Claire's

classmates, but she managed to tune it out.

"Hey, Claire, tell us all what you're sister's going to be doing with this thing,"

yelled Rebecca Clayburn, a fellow advanced student known to be a gossip and

usually at odds with Claire on many issues. She sported her characteristic tone of

mockery. "I say Jill the Pill and her family are getting their ride home." The room

became silent except for a few laughs.

Mr. Prambs cleared his throat to speak sternly. "Ms. Clayburn..."

Claire looked at Rebecca defiantly. "If there's any kind of advanced technologyin there, Jill will be the first to figure out how it works. As for you, you needn't

worry; the aliens will always need someone to serve them fast food."

There were a few more laughs; Rebecca responded with an offensive gesture.

"Ladies, if either of you say one more thing to each other, I'm going to send you

to Mrs. Blackwell's office, said Mr. Prambs, now quite angry. Got it? It's tenminutes to entry. Let's keep it civilized in here."

The chatter continued as it was before, but a pin could have been heard hitting

the floor as the news camera zoomed in on the flaming object entering the

atmosphere. It was a strange feeling to Claire, having this suddenly become so

real; she felt like she would in those moments when she became aware of her

thoughts and they became amplified in her head, the times when she activelyexperienced the process of breathing, the sensation of her pulse. For what seemed

like a speechless hour the class watched the ball of flame descend into their lowly

terrestrial sphere.

Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared in the sky, the flames around the object

vanished as air resistance continued to slow its descent. The charred remains of

the protective sheath flaked away, and parachutes were finally deployed.

Between the buoyancy devices attached to the object the students were able to

make out exactly what had been described on the news: a dark-colored objectthat was roughly cylindrical, the length great in comparison to the radius of the

circular cross-section. Crude anatomical comparisons were made by several

students; these were quickly suppressed by Mr. Prambs.


32/164

The object came to rest with a gentle splash upon the surface of the sea, and the

class erupted once more with fervent clamor as the Final Frontier craft converged

on their target. Claire knew that the remaining classes of the day would beunbearable; the students who had not gotten to witness the event would want to

know all about it, and those had would be bursting at the seams to tell of whatthey saw, but the teachers would, if for no other reason than getting the students

prepared for the yearly STAAR exams, force them to continue with classes as if

nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

And that was, in fact, the case. But as Claire walked, accompanied by Will, to the

last class of the day, which she shared with Will, their progress was suddenly

impeded by three tall jocks.

"Well, look who it is," said the one in the middle, sporting his letter jacket

covered in patches won at regional and area championships in several sports. He

raised his free hand and spoke in a voice like that of extraterrestrials portrayed in

older films. "Take me to your leader."

"You're a little late to the game," Claire retorted. "Rebecca Clayburn already

made that joke in physics."

"Well I'm not in your physics class, now am I?"

"Go away, Jeremiah," said Will with a firm voice.

Jeremiah smirked. "Will, I knew you were weird, but to choose an alien as a

friend? Over human beings?"

"Human beings like you? Certainly."

"Seriously, dude, why?" Jeremiah looked at Claire. "Is he banging you?"

"This is Angela Culwell's boyfriend, as I'm sure you know."

"Another freak," said one of the pair accompanying Jeremiah.

"My boyfriend is Carl Rothschild. But I guess pointing this out is being done

under the assumption that you even understand the idea of loyalty."


33/164

"Carl's a freak, too," said Jeremiah. "In fact, I bet he's an alien like you. What you

guys think? Maybe they do human-alien breeding experiments as a big group."

The trio laughed as one.

"No," replied Will, "but maybe you should look into that; it would be more action

than you'd ever get otherwise."

"Please," said Jeremiah, bringing his face within inches of Will's. "Look at this

guy. Talks big, but he's got nothing behind it. He'd fold if push comes to shove."

"So you resort to determining the victor by who has more physical ability?"

asked Claire. "What a way to prove yourself right." The jocks paid this comment

no mind.

"Try it," said Will unflinchingly. "I'll mop the floor with you right now in front ofeveryone."

Jeremiah chuckled. "Of course you will. I started on varsity as a sophomore, and

you'll still be second-string as a senior. Come on, guys, we shouldn't let E. T. belate to class. She might kill us with her brain!" Laughing in self-congratulatory

fashion, they stepped around Will and Claire and walked away. Will turned,

staring daggers at them all the while.

Claire grabbed his arm. "Let's go." Will complied but continued to turn back inhis rage even after the jocks were out of sight. "Not that I want you to fight

anyone, especially for my sake, but I think you could have beaten Jeremiah to a

pulp."

"Tim and Darren would have helped him, and I'd be toast."

"But there's no honor in three-on-one. Not in this situation, anyway."

"That's not how it works in their world. You probably already picked up on that a

little bit. Don't tell Angie, alright? I don't want her to worry about me getting beat

up. And she talks to my mom about everything."

"I won't say a word."

Claire had been, as expected, forbidden by her parents from further participating

in the protests, but she wanted to walk home with Carl along Fredericksburg

Road in order to show him firsthand what was going on. She was surprised to see


34/164

first that the Tea Party group had grown significantly, probably doubling in size,

but she was even more shocked to see armed guards standing behind a makeshift

barricade that separated these counter-protestors from Final Frontier property.'After all, these people are their bread and butter, their useful idiots.' The

barricade extended around the front of the property and ran between the buildingand the encampment from which Claire was forbidden. The group had no name

that Claire was aware of, not that it needed one. 'Occupy Landa Park,' she

thought, highly amused. It was a name neither she nor her like-minded peerswould have used, due to ideological differences with the dwindling Occupy

movement, but the media was likely to begin using it very soon.

The overnight change in the size of the crowd took Claire's breath away. The

evening before there had been enough space to easily double the number of tents

in the park; the park was now not only completely filled with tents, but the space

in between the tents and up to the road was filled with protestors crammed

shoulder-to-shoulder.

"Wow," said Carl. "You told me there were a lot of people, but I didn't get the

vibe that it was this big."

"It wasn't anything like this yesterday. I'm really surprised myself."

"Hey Claire!" came from their left, across the road. The voice was familiar

somehow. Claire turned to see Kelly and Carrie approaching them.

"Oh, hey guys. I have some bad news."

"What's that?" asked Kelly.

"I got grounded. I can't come help anymore, at least not for a week, I'm certain.

It's especially bad since I was only there one day. Sorry."

Sympathetic looks came across the faces of Kelly and Carrie. Carried put a hand

on Claire's shoulder. "Don't worry. It gets better. Soon you won't have to do whatanyone tells you."

"I'm also sorry that I have to leave you with that." Claire pointed to the massive

crowed. "I wouldn't even know where the line ends and the crowd begins. People

are going to be cutting in line all over the place."


35/164

"I know, right?" agreed Carrie as Kelly nodded. "But I'm pretty sure there's at

least one other mess tent going up before we start serving tonight. Jason's on top

of it. Does he know you won't be here?"

"No. Of all things I forgot to put his number in my phone."

"We'll tell him for you," assured Kelly. "Don't give up the cause, even if you

can't be here. We've got to go; we're late already. See you!" The two continued

into the throng.

"Bye," said Claire, feeling depressed once more. She turned to Carl, who was

staring intently at something down the sidewalk. "Sorry, things are so messed up

with this that I completely forgot to introduce you to them."

"That's alright. I think I see someone I recognize."

Claire looked ahead. There were many people coming toward them along the

sidewalk, but one of them seemed the most peculiar to Claire for some reason.

'Of course,' she thought. 'Jean jacket, mustache, Brewers cap.'

"That guy in the Brewers cap, he's been selling drugs in the camp, or at least

that's what one guy said."

"That's who I'm talking about. That's my dad."

Claire looked back at the man, who was still a way off. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

"Has he seen us?"

"Doesn't look like it." With that he pulled her into the crowd. They pushed their

way through until they were about ten deep from the sidewalk.

Claire had never met Carl's father, so she had no idea if he was telling the truth, if

he was simply mistaken, or if he was playing some kind of joke. But she could

think of no reason for him to lie about something like that, and what seemed like

genuine confusion and, to a lesser extent, fear, were written all over his face.

They watched as the man walked past them and entered the crowd another eighty

yards down.


36/164

Microphone feedback was heard from the multiple directions, and everyone

around them now had their attention directed toward the stage. The stage itself

was too far away for Claire to see clearly, but large projector screens portrayed agiant view of the speaker: somewhat of a giant himself, with an impressive build,

solid jaw, and a perfect hairdo with graying edges. He was well-dressed in a crispthree-piece suit, but he carried himself less like a businessman or politician and

more like a blue-collar worker might.

"Good afternoon," he said in direct, even tones; his voice was dark enough to

command respect but bright enough to be rather personable. "First of all, let me

say that for those of you who have gathered here, and for those who could not

come but support us with their prayers and donations, enough could not be said

without filling the world with books that would be written." All around Claire

and Carl rose a great applause.

"We should go," yelled Carl, barely audible above the noise. "You know you're

not allowed to be here."

"Just let me hear what he has to say."

"I know you want to hear it, I really do. But I don't want you in more trouble than

you already are."

"We'll go in a few minutes."

"I introduce myself," continued the speaker, " not as an important figure, but

merely as one gifted with the words to unite those who love freedom and

democracy. I am Robert Dylan. My dear friends, through democracy in someform or another human civilization has taken countless radical steps to improve

its condition since the anarchic days of tribal warfare. And now it stands on the

brink of its greatest feat yet: contact with an alien race. But now there are those

who would stand in our way, those who have forgotten where they would be if it

were not for the rest of us." Another great cry rose, this time supplemented by

Claire's voice. This was it. This was happening, and she was a part of it. Perhapsnot a great part, only a small grain of dirt in a vast mountain range, but that was

not important. Right now she was one with all around her.

"That's it," said Carl. "Come on."

"Can you not just hold on a minute?" Claire was getting visibly frustrated with

her boyfriend.


37/164

"No." He reached down, wrapped his hands around her legs just below her

buttocks, and lifted, slinging her over his shoulder. Before she could protest they

were already on the sidewalk. Carl put her down and turned to continue walkingtoward Claire's house.

"What the hell was that for?"

Carl turned around and placed his hands on his hips. "I know how devoted you

are to this. That devotion to the things you believe in is one of the reasons I love

you. But as long as I have any say in the matter, I will not stand by while you

drive a wedge between yourself and your parents. The more you disobey them,

the less you'll care about what they think later on, regardless of how much youend wanting to care." He paused, looking at the crowd and then back at Claire.

"Causes come and causes go. Once this all blows over, this town will go back to

being the quiet place it always was, and your family will still be here."

Claire shook with rage. "What do you know about family? You're an only child

with divorced parents, and you don't believe in anything anywhere nearly as

strongly as I. What do you know about my situation? Huh?" She walked past

him, holding her face as she began to bawl.

Carl thought for a moment, then ran after her. "Go away," she sobbed.

"Look, you're right. I'm not in your shoes, and I've never been there. But I havecousins that have been there. The twins. They were great kids until they were

about to leave for college. Then one bit of disobedience after another slowly built

up until they left the house early. Moved right out of there. From what I hear now

they rarely come home and when they do it's always awkward. I'm not saying

that's what's going to happen to you, but I think it's for the best that you do whatyour parents say. At least until you're out of here. Please?"

Claire stared for a moment, wiping away tears all the while. Then she planted her

face in his chest and wept harder. He held her close and kissed the top of her

head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should have listened to you."

"That's alright. I should have figured something out besides picking you up. I

think I might have a hernia or something." He reached up to block her punch, and

they both laughed and embraced once more. "Come on; let's get to your house."


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He wiped the remaining tears from her face with his jacket sleeve. They began

walking once more.

Claire looked up at Carl. "So, what do you think your dad's doing here?"

"I have no idea. I'm going to do some digging around to find out."

"What do you mean, digging around? I've always wondered how people go about

this sort of thing."

Carl smiled. "It's hard to explain. Remember, he works for the D. E. A., and one

of the good things I can say about him is that he was always willing to teach me

anything I wanted to know. So I've picked up a few skills. I just wish this wasn't

my first big chance to test them out." They walked in silence for a while, lettingthe echoing voice of Dylan, who was still going strong, fade behind them. "Yousaid that someone said my dad was selling drugs?"

"There was a guy in the drummers' tent, which is next to the mess tent, who had

been smoking weed. He told Jason, who was my boss in the mess tent and amember of the camp committee, that a guy wearing a jean jacket, aviators, a

Brewers cap, and a mustache had sold it to him."

Carl sighed. "That's probably him, then. Not exactly a common look, even," he

paused to put his hands up in pre-emptive defense, "among hippies. Claire rolledher eyes and shook her head. "What's the drummer's name?"

"Morgen."

"Morgen. Got it."


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Chapter V: The Lie

Mr. Garrett was sitting in his recliner when Claire and Carl arrived at the house.

"Hey, kids, how was school today?"

"You're home early," replied Claire.

"I was feeling a little under the weather, so I took half the day off. Carl, good to

see you. I'd shake your hand, but y'all don't need to get to close to me."

Carl nodded. "Get better soon, sir."

Mrs. Garrett came into the living room from the bathroom. "Did you two see the

thing come down on the news?"

Claire nodded. "I did. Mr. Prambs set up the projector in physics class. Carl

wasn't so lucky though."

Carl shrugged. "I'm sure I'll catch the footage at some point. You know how the

news is. Or there's the internet."

"Did you see how big the crowds in the park are getting?" asked Mr. Garrett.

Claire hesitated. Carl answered for her. "We walked by just to take a look

because I hadn't seen it yet. We didn't stay or go in or anything. Although Claire

did tell a couple of the volunteers that she couldn't help anymore."

"Well, that's quite alright. Actually, I'm proud of you for letting them know you

wouldn't be there."

Claire looked at the floor, suddenly finding herself overwhelmed. "Dad."

"Yes?"

"Why?" The tone of her voice finished the question.

Mr. Garrett's face softened. "Because you're my daughter and I know you. I knowit's important to you. So important, in fact, that it's the only thing that would be

an actual punishment, my little ascetic." He paused and looked at his wife. "So


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that's why we decided only to ground you until Saturday. Im sure there will stillbe plenty going on then."

"Thank you."

"But, you aren't allowed to go by yourself after then."

"What, why?"

"There are too many unsavory people there."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Dad, I know you don't think well of leftists, but I promise

that I won't get wrapped up in anything bad."

"You know Ed, my friend that works at T. C. E. Q.? Apparently as of yesterday

they were already finding contaminants in the water. Some of your friends are

using the river as a toilet."

"That's disgusting," said Mrs. Garrett and Carl in unison.

"And it's only a tiny percentage of the people there," added Claire in frustration.

"Molly with New Braunfels P. D. said that there are already reports of property

damage and harassment coming in. A few have been found to be false, but most

of them are legitimate. And you remember the sexual assaults in the Occupy

This-and-That protests."

"That was one time, and they dealt with it."

"Oh yes, they dealt with it 'internally,' whatever that means. If these are the same

people, it means that they don't recognize any outer authority, despite whoever

actually owns the property that they are using. And Molly also said that the

governor is being petitioned to send in the Texas Rangers. I promise you thathowever much of these things was going on yesterday, much more will be

happening from now on."

Claire shook her head and looked away. "A lot of them aren't the same people as

the Occupiers."

Carl put a hand on her shoulder and looked back to Mr. Garrett. "Don't worry, sir.

I'll go with her and make sure nothing happens."


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"I know you will, Carl. You two can go back to Claire's room now, if you would

like. We're having meatloaf if you want to stay. I mean, I suppose I should ask

before I make that offer."

"There's enough," said Mrs. Garrett.

"That would be great. Thank you."

When they got to Claire's room, she whispered, "No, thank you."

"For what?"

"For staying and making the evening a little less awkward."

That night as Claire was stepping out of the shower she heard Sol crying to be let

in to the bathroom and scratching at the bottom of the door. Hold on, buddy.She wrapped herself in a towel and cracked the door for him to come inside.

Once she had dried off and slipped into her pajamas she opened the door so that

the mirror could begin to defog. Sol moved to the doorway and looked up at the

latch hole. He stared for a moment before rearing back and leaping, trying to

climb the door frame. Unsuccessful, he tried twice more before giving up. Whatare you doing, goofball? Claire picked him up and held him close, rubbing the

side of his belly. I love you, stinker.

She then put him down on the counter and rubbed the top of his head absent-

mindedly. Something had just occurred to her: Carl had told her he loved her for

the first time. It hadnt been in a romantic, intimate moment, and it hadnt evenbeen the focus of conversation. It had been in the middle of a fight. They were

fighting, and he said that he loved her! Somehow it seemed even more special

that way than the way she had always dreamed of it happening. Moreover, he

said nothing, and did not seem the least bit perturbed, when she didnt say itback.

After brushing her teeth and putting up her hair she kissed her parents and wentto bed, unable to cease smiling the entire time. Her parents were confused, but

they were glad to see her smile for once and merely shrugged to one another.

Claire's father was right in his prediction; many of the arriving campers, finding

themselves with no room in the park to place their tents, began camping in

business lawns to be chased away by janitors or other employees before dawn; a

good number were reported to the police and given citations, many of which


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were not paid, as the campers immediately left town. Others tried to pitch their

tents on nearby ranchland only to be run off as well; Claire imagined the

embellished stories of crazy Texas ranchers and their guns that would be broughtback wherever the protestors had come from.

It was thought that the Final Frontier truck transporting the celestial object

would travel on Interstate 10 from Houston all the way to Texas 46, where itwould turn to the northwest and travel through New Braunfels. The protestors

travelled en masse to the southeast end of town with the object of blocking, or at

least slowing, the vehicle's progress. To their dismay it was reported that the

vehicle and its convoy had turned west on Texas 80 instead, traveling through

San Marcos to RM 32 and bypassing New Braunfels altogether. The disappointed

protestors slowly marched back to Landa Park, having succeeded only in souring

their image among the local residents.

By Friday more break-ins had been reported, and several arrests had been made.

Entry by police into the encampment was initially resisted, but the committeedecided eventually to spread word to the protestors to cooperate so as not to

endanger their ultimate goal. 'Great,' thought Claire. 'Once again, we look like abunch of jealous thieves.'

An idea occurred to her during lunch: she could write and hand out materials to

help clear misconceptions about the movement. Her English teachers had always

told her that she was an excellent writer, and she loved doing it. She'd writtenmany short stories during math and history classes, and two of them had actually

been published in the school newspaper. A literary magazine based in Austin hadwritten back to her after a submission, declining it, but saying that her writing

was very good, and that if she were to apply it to a genre on which the magazine

focused, she'd certainly be published. 'Oh, capitalism. You deprive yourself of

great art for what sells, even when you see how great it is.' Her ability to writecould easily be used for a higher purpose, though. Someone needed to get the

truth out about what the movement, currently embodied in Landa Park, was all

about.

But she had now arrived at an issue of principle. Her ultimate goal was completedemocracy, after all. Claire would need to consult the others in the movement

first. What if her idea were rejected? She'd have to be content with forgoing that

project and find something among what the people wanted that she could get

excited about writing.

She lost this train of thought when confronted once again by Rebecca Clayburn.

"Well, well, if it isn't Claire the Commie."


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Angela looked up from her pizza and pointed to Rebecca while leaning toward

Claire. "Look, Claire, it's Becky Trickturn!" Claire tried not to choke on her bite

of sandwich as she began to laugh hard.

Rebecca turned to Angela and mustered a confused look. "I'm sorry, I don't

believe we've met. Are you with the Homeless Outreach Program?" Angela's

nails dug into the table as every muscle in her body seized up, but she made nosound.

Claire looked Rebecca in the eyes and swallowed her bite of sandwich. "You

realize, don't you, that we aren't insulted by anything that you say?" Angela

raised an eyebrow in Claire's direction, but Claire continued looking directly atRebecca and did not notice. "And it makes sense that we are never the ones who

initiate these wars of pejoratives. But it may simply be that we're further along in

the evolutionary process than you are."

Rebecca rolled her eyes and turned around to take her seat with her friends at the

next table. Hating to be ignored like that, Claire continued her thought, speaking

loudly enough that Rebecca would not be able to ignore her. "Most people cannot

see others outside their immediate spheres as human beings with unique thoughtsand feelings; they simply pin those others with some overarching characteristic

and move on. People like you are just big bags of instinct, with no true reasoning

capabilities."

Angela was silently cracking up, knowing quite well the message her best friendwas sending. Rebecca and her friends were now talking quite loudly themselves

in order to drown out Claire's voice. Several students around them looked at each

other with raised eyebrows before returning to their lunches with laughs of

annoyance. One boy, who looked to Claire like a freshman, nodded in agreement

with her tirade from his spot six seats to the right and across the table. Claire

smiled; at least someone else here understood what she was trying to get across.

But Rebecca's comment toward Angela now made Claire think about Angela's

exclusion of her from knowing the truth about her dad's predicament, and this

quelled her mood.

When she turned onto her block that afternoon, she ran the rest of the way to the

house; Jill's car was there once more. "Hey," Claire said upon coming into the

living room. "What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you, too. The power's out in Canyon Lake."


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"You're off pretty early for a Friday."

"If you'll direct your attention to the skin below my eyes, we've been working

almost nonstop since Tuesday night." Claire nodded; Jill did look extremely

tired.

"What have you found?"

Jill grinned and shook her head. "Nice try, kiddo. I can't say a word. It'll be

revealed in due time." She paused. "Even though I know you think it's not up to

us to say what due time is."

Claire shrugged. "It's nothing personal."

"I know. And that's why I'm proud to call you my sister. Even though you still

haven't given me a hug." They laughed and embraced.

"So the power went out in the facility? I take it you didn't lose any work."

"This is Final Frontier you're talking about. We produce our own power. And

there are quarters for us to shower, eat, and sleep, but, since I have a couple of

days to rest, I thought I would come home. I know that Mom and Dad won't

object."

"I guess Mom's at the store. Did you see her?"

"I did. She went to the store to get some things for dinner, since I'm here."

"Seriously, I think you should come around more often. Mom makes the beststuff when you visit."

Jill smiled. "I'm going to go see Randall tomorrow as well. Since I wasn't going

to be here originally, he had already planned on having a few friends over. Hesaid you could come too, if you want."

"I'd love to, but Mom and Dad are going to object..."

"They can believe that we're shopping in San Marcos."

"Mom will want to come with us."


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"You're right. I suppose I can frame it as alone time for us. Maybe she'll accept

that. If not, I'll be thinking of some other reason for us to go off alone."

As it turned out, Mrs. Garrett seemed to have no problem letting Claire and Jill

go out shopping without her, and they rehearsed the list of stores they allegedly

wanted to visit; they had a rather extensive list so that it would not seem strange

if they came home rather late. As much as Claire resented having to live under

her parents rule fora year-and-a-half more, this was the first time she could

remember having blatantly lied to them about anything (other than in third grade,

when she had forgotten to clean the litter box and claimed that Samson had

really just pooped that much while her parents were gone for the weekend).

She knew that it was not the same with Jill, who didnt even need to pretend thatthe lie didnt bother her. It gave Claire a strange rush of excitement .

Randall's house was on the northeast side of town. Claire thought it a rather small

space for one person, and, as she and Jill walked up the driveway, Claire found

herself thinking that she would never allow herself to live in a place like this,with holes in the mortar between bricks, a noisy window unit in the front, and

cracks in the front walk. At this rate, what would the inside be like?

Jill knocked; the door opened. Claire sighed to hear Texas Country music coming

from inside, as she found the genre rather annoying on the whole. A man of Jill's

age opened the door.

Claire's memory of Randall was the not the man that stood before them. He hadfilled out in his arms and chest, while his hair had undergone a reduction and

proper grooming. Yet the same bright, green, welcoming eyes stared back at her.

"It's about time! Hey, you." He hugged Jill. "And my, you've changed, and forthe better," he said to Claire.

"You too."

"Well, come on in."

The house reminded Claire of her great-grandparents' house with its threadbare

carpet and dingy wallpaper. 'And that disgusting linoleum.' The door opened to asmall entryway from which both the living room and the kitchen could be

accessed. Another man about Jill's age was pulling a beer from the fridge.

"Isn't it a little early for that?" asked Jill.


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"Oh, Tadeh's harmless," replied Randall.

"No, I mean isn't it a little early..." Jill thrust her head several times in Claire's

direction.

A look of understanding came across Randall's face. "Oh, right. Hey, Tadeh, Jillbrought her sister who's a minor. Do you mind holding off on that?"

"Of course. Nice to meet the two of you. I've especially heard a lot about you,

Jill."

"And you as well."

They walked into the living room. Claire was unsure how Randall had managedto fit a ping-pong table along the opposite wall and still have room for a sofa, a

love seat, an entertainment center, a bookshelf full of movies and video games,

and a card table that sat in front of the couch. Sitting on the couch was a brunette

girl who appeared about Jills age and somewhat less pretty, though well-dressed

in comparison to most of the others there. Tadeh sat next to her. In a chair at the

card table was a man about Jills age with long, puffed, red hair and dressedmuch more casually, reminding Claire of some of the skaters at her school.

Jill took a seat in the recliner, while Randall and Claire sat in the unoccupied

folding chairs. The brunette girl looked at Jill with sudden recognition. Oh,my Jill Garrett? I barely recognized you! Ashley Cooper. Do you remember

me?

Of course I do, replied Jill. Both you and Aaron here. She motioned to theman who reminded Claire of a skater. I didnt know that so many old classmates

of mine would be here. And, by the way, this is my sister, Claire. Claire and theothers exchanged greetings.

So, Jill, what do you do now? asked Ashley. I remember you were going off

to Texas Tech after high school to study something, maybe engineering.

Thats right. I double-majored in mechanical and electrical engineering.

Thats so crazy. But you always were the genius. And Im sure youre top ofyour class as well. Claire shrugged and gave a slight nod, playing it off. Theothers laughed. Well, I went to vet school, and now I work at the clinic here intown.


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Very good. I can certainly see that; you helped Principal Dwyers birds whenthey got sick, didnt you?

I remember that, too, said Randall.

I did. I havent thought about that in a long time, though. And I love my work.Where do

Spirit's Gate

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