Chapter 15

MacArthur Responds

Craig Van Patten surveyed the parking lot from his porch-side seat at the Marina Motel. It had taken only a few days for he and his partner, Nicholas LaRue, to begin irritating one another. Living and working together in close quarters spawned petty disagreements between the two men. They had shared assignments and motel rooms in the past, but at least, then, they had their supervisor, Douglas Wilcox to intervene. Now Wilcox was no doubt comfortably established in his Anchorage office. The two recently discharged agents were left with less direction than ever before. Their differing points of view loomed as large obstacles whenever there was a decision to be made. Van Patten pushed aside his troubles and returned to reading his tabloid. He wanted to savor the early morning solitude while LaRue was busy in the shower.        Distracted by an odd sensation running across one shoulder, Van Patten looked up from his reading. He jumped, involuntarily, startled by the sight of Adam MacArthur standing only inches away.        "Hey!" Van Patten shouted, "Why don't you say 'Hello' or something?"        "Sorry," MacArthur replied, taking a seat in a nearby chair, "but I told you I'd come talk to you, didn't I?"        "What happened to you?" asked Van Patten, observing MacArthur's salt encrusted hair and clothes, a stubble of beard, the sunken eyes. "You look worse than the last time I saw you."        "What can I say?" MacArthur answered, leaning on the cheap, plastic table top, his head resting on his arms, "It's not easy playing fox to you hounds." He looked across the table and met Van Patten's gaze, smiling weakly.        "So you weren't just blowing me off," Van Patten commented, incredulously. "You're really going to answer some questions?"        "I'll do my best, Craig," the Visitor spoke quietly, slurring his words ever so slightly. "All I ask in return is a small favor from you."        "Now wait a minute, MacArthur," Van Patten objected, "LaRue and I don't work for the Bureau anymore. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't pull any strings for you."        "Nothing like that," sighed MacArthur. "I need to locate someone named Jason MacArthur. The last information I had was that he's living in the southwest. I was given a phone number in Albuquerque, but it's disconnected."        "That's your son, right?" responded Van Patten, suddenly more attentive.        "Yes, and I really need to find him," MacArthur replied emphatically, reaching across the table and g.shtmling Van Patten's wrist. "Do we have a deal?"        "You have my word," Van Patten answered, sensing the pain and longing of this bedraggled man. "I'll do everything I can. And I'll give you a phone number where I can be reached."        "Thanks, Craig," MacArthur slumped back into his chair. "Now, what were those questions you had for me?"        "Well," Van Patten hesitated, "before I begin, you should know that LaRue and I have been collaborating with Colonel Vise since we arrived down here. I mean, it's only fair you should know that before you answer." Van Patten's pained expression revealed his inner conflict.        "What!" MacArthur stood up, agitated, "You're working with Vise? Why?"        Van Patten did not answer. He directed a pleading look over MacArthur's shoulder.        "No deal," the Visitor continued, and stumbled from fatigue as he began to leave.        "You're not going anywhere," the voice of Nicholas LaRue chimed in as he g.shtmled Adam MacArthur from behind. "I'm tired of chasing you around."        The Visitor resisted but LaRue's hold was too strong. "You're coming into our office, such as it is, and you're not leaving until our little chat is over," LaRue panted and struggled to gain control.        LaRue used a chokehold on his quarry and forcibly pulled MacArthur into the motel room. Van Patten followed silently, desperate to sort through his conflicting priorities. They had barely cleared the door when MacArthur slumped in LaRue's arms and slid to the floor. Van Patten and LaRue traded angry glares and accusations as they lifted the Visitor onto the bed.        "What have you been smoking, Van Patten?" LaRue began. "Telling this fellow about Colonel Vise is a might crazier than your usual stunts, wouldn't you say?"        "Is that what set you off, Nick?" Van Patten stuttered in e.shtmleration. "Because you must be the crazy one, violating our agreement with Colonel Vise. No interference, remember? No attempt to take him into custody. Sound familiar? Now what if he's been injured somehow?"        The two men stared at the still form of their victim, sprawled out diagonally across the bed. He appeared pale, even through the salt-encrusted beard, but he was breathing easily. LaRue was anxious to call Colonel Vise, but Van Patten insisted that calling a doctor had priority. They finally compromised on waiting and hoping that MacArthur would recover on his own, momentarily.

A light flashed across the Visitor's consciousness as if in a dream. He basked in the warm sensation that coursed through his body following the aura, thinking irrationally of Constance. Hanging somewhere between waking and sleep, MacArthur resisted letting go of this momentary rest and comfort.        "Advocate here," he perceived the faint message.        Hello, Elana," the Visitor returned a greeting, feeling almost intoxicated in the effort to control his thoughts. "How are you doing, little friend in my head?" He did his best to project his version of a smile.        "Worried, Adam," Elana returned, "I sense you are not well."        "My mission is long," the Visitor summoned energy to communicate, "In fact, I can't foresee the end. I need a short rest. That's all."        "You need to wake up," Elana insisted. "You need to drink and eat. Have you made contact with your pursuers? Adam, listen, that adverse event, the threshold is close."        "Yes, sir!" MacArthur delivered his reply with a silent chuckle, "Right away, sir." Forcing a more serious tone, he asked, "Help me out here. What would you have me do with these people you call pursuers? I'm just one fox amongst the hounds, you know."        "Fox? Hounds? You're not alone, Adam," Elana encouraged him. "There are others, returnees among primitives. We call them Core Colony. Even some primitives know of us, help us."        "I was wondering when you'd tell me about the others," Adam felt himself reply simply to prolong the contact.        "Make allies among your pursuers; direct them to change." Elana paused, sensing the Visitor's deepening stupor. She sent her most forceful warning, "Wake up, Adam!"

Van Patten let relief wash over him. Adam MacArthur had just opened his eyes, his arms flailing reflexively as he woke. He narrowly missed punching Van Patten, who was placing a wet cloth on his forehead.        "How do you feel?" Van Patten inquired. "You had us pretty worried for the last, oh, minute or so."        The Visitor responded with silence. The unfamiliar room pitched and rolled around him, mimicking the motion of the stranded Zodiac raft. He searched the room and located LaRue at the foot of the bed. Finding his voice at last, MacArthur directed his question to LaRue, "Are we ready for that little chat, then?"        "Hold on just a minute, son," LaRue drawled, his face unreadable, "Looks like you're gonna need some re-fueling, first."        "Right," Van Patten agreed, offering MacArthur a drink of water, "Why don't you run over to the café, Nick, and get something for our friend?"        "If you don't mind," LaRue countered, "I'd feel a lot more comfy if you get the food and leave me to keep an eye on our friend, here."        Giving in, Van Patten left on the errand, with LaRue standing over the bed like a sentry. The Visitor sat silently, sipping his water and studying Nicholas LaRue. He gradually felt more oriented but sensed no openings with this wily companion.        "Don't you go looking me in the eye like that," ordered LaRue, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "I don't want you messing with me, you hear?"        "What are you afraid of?" the Visitor asked, slowly looking away.        "Afraid?" LaRue slowly shook his head. "I don't know what you're up to. Whatever it is, I don't like it. You see, I'm a just a country boy at heart. Anything that don't come from good old Mother Earth can't be good for us. That's all I need to know when it comes down to it - deciding whose side I'm on: yours or Vise's."        "There aren't any sides," the Visitor's voice trailed off.        The men resigned themselves to an uneasy silence until Van Patten returned with paper sack in hand. The act of sharing food, even greasy fast food, restored a sense of normality to the interaction. MacArthur managed to move to the small table where Van Patten passed around egg sandwiches, juice and coffee. Handing a small container of salt to LaRue, MacArthur met his gaze and quickly looked down at the table.        "So why don't you start by telling us why you're still sneaking around, MacArthur, if that's who you are," LaRue began.        "I can only explain as much as you're willing to hear. I'm not trying to hurt anyone. I'm not a terrorist. There are things I've got to do. And if I give in to Colonel Vise, they won't be done. We're so close to being better than we are, all of us." The Visitor stopped, careful to focus away from LaRue's face.        "And that's your excuse for running from authorities?" chuckled LaRue. "You're too busy doing more important things? Saving the world, maybe?"        "Something like that," MacArthur confirmed. "Doing my part, anyway." He looked up, straightened his shoulders and abandoned all efforts to play by LaRue's rules. "Are you doing your part? Why are you helping Colonel Vise?"        "Look, Adam," Van Patten interrupted, "we weren't supposed to get in your way. I'm sorry. I'll bet Nick regrets what happened, too."        Van Patten looked toward LaRue for confirmation, but received only the barest glance and a frown in return.        "Both of you, hear me out," the Visitor continued. "There's no trick, no black magic. You are free to choose, but you're on the wrong path. Think about why you'd help Vise chase after me. Not so long ago, you both filed formal complaints against him with the Congressional Investigations Committee, right? Have things changed so much?"        "We just had a different employer at the time," LaRue shrugged. "We're still acting in the national interest, as far as I can tell. You haven't convinced me otherwise. I don't know how you have all this information about us. But if you were on the up and up, you'd be filing a report with us, not running from the law."        "I can't convince you, at least not now. If you don't believe me, if you're unsure, ask someone you can trust." MacArthur suggested.        Thinking aloud, Van Patten commented, "I wish we could talk to Mother."        "Find her," the Visitor suggested. "Go back home. Look for work. You'd both qualify for private security work. If you keep your eyes open, you'll find what you're looking for."        MacArthur made his way back to the bed and closed his eyes. Nicholas LaRue finally caught Van Patten's attention with a gesture and they stepped outside the door.        "Well, what do you think?" Van Patten searched LaRue's face.        "I think something's fishy," LaRue replied. "That fellow knows way too much. He ain't no alien on the run as far as I can tell."        "It's uncanny. He seems to know all about the Bureau, the complaints, and even Mother." Van Patten was stymied.        "I say we call and give Colonel Vise an update," LaRue decided. "It's not our business to sort out MacArthur's mumbo jumbo."        Van Patten reluctantly stepped back into their motel room and stared in disbelief. Adam MacArthur was nowhere to be found.