telling what might happen to someone as bitter and confused and troubled as Melanie.
In the rear seat, her five-year-old son woke up.
Spirit, the dog, moved first, and Priest heard the click of his claws on the plastic of the seat. Then there was a childish yawn.
Dustin, known as Dusty, was an unlucky boy. He suffered from multiple allergies. Priest had not yet seen one of his attacks, but Melanie had described them: Dusty sneezed uncontrollably, his eyes bulged, and he broke out in itchy skin rashes. She carried powerful suppressing drugs, but she said they mitigated the symptoms only partially.
Now Dusty started to fret.
“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” he said.
Melanie came awake. She sat upright, stretching, and Priest glanced at the outline of her breasts in the skimpy T-shirt she wore. She turned around and said: “Drink some water, Dusty, you have a bottle right there.”
“I don’t want water,” he whined. “I want orange juice.”
“We don’t have any goddamn juice,” she snapped.
Dusty started to cry.
Melanie was a nervous mother, frightened of doing the wrong thing. She was obsessive about her son’s health, so she was overprotective, but at the same time, her tension made her cranky with him. She felt sure her husband would one day try to take the boy away from her, so she was terrified of doing anything that would enable him to call her a bad mother.
Priest took charge. He said: “Hey, whoa, what the heck is that coming up behind us?” He made himself sound really scared.
Melanie looked around. “It’s just a truck.”
“That’s what you think. It’s
disguised
as a truck, but really it’s a Centaurian fighter spacecraft with photon torpedoes. Dusty, I need you to tap three times on the rear window to raise our invisible magnetic armor. Quick!”
Dusty tapped on the window.
“Now, we’ll know he’s firing his torpedoes if we see an orange light flashing on his port fender. You better watch for that, Dusty.”
The truck was closing on them fast, and a minute later its left side indicator flashed and it pulled out to pass them.
Dusty said: “It’s firing, it’s firing!”
“Okay, I’ll try to hold the magnetic armor while you fire back! That water bottle is actually a laser gun!”
Dusty pointed the bottle at the truck and made zapping noises. Spirit joined in, barking furiously at the truck as it passed. Melanie started to laugh.
When the truck pulled back into the slow lane ahead of them, Priest said: “Whew. We were lucky to come out of that in one piece. I think they’ve given up for now.”
“Will there be any more Centaurians?” Dusty asked eagerly.
“You and Spirit keep watch out the back and let me know what you see, okay?”
“Okay.”
Melanie smiled and said quietly: “Thanks. You’re so good with him.”
I’m good with everyone: men, women, children, and pets. I got charisma. I wasn’t born with it—I learned. It’s just a way of making people do what you want. Anything from persuading a faithful wife to commit adultery, all the way down to getting a scratchy kid to stop whining. All you need is charm
.
“Let me know what exit to take,” Priest said.
“Just watch for signs to Berkeley.”
She did not know he could not read. “There’s probably more than one. Just tell me where to turn.”
A few minutes later they left the freeway and entered the leafyuniversity town. Priest could feel Melanie’s tension rise. He knew that all her rage against society and her disappointment with life somehow centered on this man she had left six months ago. She directed Priest through the intersections to Euclid Avenue, a street of modest houses and apartment buildings probably rented by graduate students and younger faculty.
“I still think I should go in alone,” she said.
It was out of the question. Melanie was not steady enough. Priest could not rely on her when he was beside her, so there was no way he would trust her alone. “No,” he
In the rear seat, her five-year-old son woke up.
Spirit, the dog, moved first, and Priest heard the click of his claws on the plastic of the seat. Then there was a childish yawn.
Dustin, known as Dusty, was an unlucky boy. He suffered from multiple allergies. Priest had not yet seen one of his attacks, but Melanie had described them: Dusty sneezed uncontrollably, his eyes bulged, and he broke out in itchy skin rashes. She carried powerful suppressing drugs, but she said they mitigated the symptoms only partially.
Now Dusty started to fret.
“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” he said.
Melanie came awake. She sat upright, stretching, and Priest glanced at the outline of her breasts in the skimpy T-shirt she wore. She turned around and said: “Drink some water, Dusty, you have a bottle right there.”
“I don’t want water,” he whined. “I want orange juice.”
“We don’t have any goddamn juice,” she snapped.
Dusty started to cry.
Melanie was a nervous mother, frightened of doing the wrong thing. She was obsessive about her son’s health, so she was overprotective, but at the same time, her tension made her cranky with him. She felt sure her husband would one day try to take the boy away from her, so she was terrified of doing anything that would enable him to call her a bad mother.
Priest took charge. He said: “Hey, whoa, what the heck is that coming up behind us?” He made himself sound really scared.
Melanie looked around. “It’s just a truck.”
“That’s what you think. It’s
disguised
as a truck, but really it’s a Centaurian fighter spacecraft with photon torpedoes. Dusty, I need you to tap three times on the rear window to raise our invisible magnetic armor. Quick!”
Dusty tapped on the window.
“Now, we’ll know he’s firing his torpedoes if we see an orange light flashing on his port fender. You better watch for that, Dusty.”
The truck was closing on them fast, and a minute later its left side indicator flashed and it pulled out to pass them.
Dusty said: “It’s firing, it’s firing!”
“Okay, I’ll try to hold the magnetic armor while you fire back! That water bottle is actually a laser gun!”
Dusty pointed the bottle at the truck and made zapping noises. Spirit joined in, barking furiously at the truck as it passed. Melanie started to laugh.
When the truck pulled back into the slow lane ahead of them, Priest said: “Whew. We were lucky to come out of that in one piece. I think they’ve given up for now.”
“Will there be any more Centaurians?” Dusty asked eagerly.
“You and Spirit keep watch out the back and let me know what you see, okay?”
“Okay.”
Melanie smiled and said quietly: “Thanks. You’re so good with him.”
I’m good with everyone: men, women, children, and pets. I got charisma. I wasn’t born with it—I learned. It’s just a way of making people do what you want. Anything from persuading a faithful wife to commit adultery, all the way down to getting a scratchy kid to stop whining. All you need is charm
.
“Let me know what exit to take,” Priest said.
“Just watch for signs to Berkeley.”
She did not know he could not read. “There’s probably more than one. Just tell me where to turn.”
A few minutes later they left the freeway and entered the leafyuniversity town. Priest could feel Melanie’s tension rise. He knew that all her rage against society and her disappointment with life somehow centered on this man she had left six months ago. She directed Priest through the intersections to Euclid Avenue, a street of modest houses and apartment buildings probably rented by graduate students and younger faculty.
“I still think I should go in alone,” she said.
It was out of the question. Melanie was not steady enough. Priest could not rely on her when he was beside her, so there was no way he would trust her alone. “No,” he
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