The Reincarnated

By Kurt Kammeyer

The Reincarnated is the fast-paced sequel to The Rejuvenated. In that first book, Anka grew progressively younger, from an eighty-two year old woman to just fifteen years old, when her husband Jeffrey last saw her alive.

When Jeffrey casts Anka’s space capsule adrift from the International Space Station, he assumes she is dead. He returns to Seattle and tries to reassemble the broken pieces of his life. Then, bits of Anka’s space capsule begin showing up on the internet. Jeffrey learns that the capsule landed on the Pacific Coast of Washington, with Anka in it. He begins a mad chase to catch up with her, which takes him from Seattle to La Push, Washington, then to British Columbia, Hong Kong, and on to India.

Will Jeffrey ever catch up with Anka? Will they even recognize each other when they meet? Can Jeffrey and his friends stop Anka from unleashing Navikarana on the world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torrid Books
• Release date: Nov 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781682992081

Kurt Kammeyer

Kurt's career has been primarily in the aerospace software industry. He is the author of twelve books and three short stories. Kurt speaks French and has studied Hebrew, Russian, Icelandic and Hindi as background for his series of otherworld books, "The Clan of the Stone". He has always had an interest in science fiction and space travel. Kurt lives with his wife and family, a cat and a dog in beautiful Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Book preview

Prologue

After Anka inserted the IV needle into her arm and taped it down, she floated back to her sleeping bag in the Space Station’s Harmony lab. She looked fondly at her husband and whispered, If I live or die, I will always love you, Jeffrey Allen. You are honorable man.

Then she snuggled back in beside Jeffrey. Already she felt a faint numbness traveling up her arm.

She zipped up the sleeping bag and cuddled close to Jeffrey. The last words she whispered in this life were: Mera khasam agla… My dear husband…

As the numbness from the Navikarana antidote spread throughout her body, she lost consciousness. Her pulse and breathing slowed to nearly imperceptible levels, and a rigor set into her limbs. When Jeffrey found her in the morning, any doctor would have pronounced her clinically dead.

She sensed nothing of her own mournful funeral procession down the main corridor of the International Space Station, or of Jeffrey’s tearful farewell to her in the Almaz space capsule.

By the time the capsule was cast adrift from the Space Station, the antidote had infused itself into every major organ in her body, and it was beginning to transform her cellular and even genetic makeup—but of this, she was utterly oblivious.

For weeks, the Almaz capsule drifted in orbit as Anka’s hibernating body slowly consumed itself. The Navikarana serum and its antidote battled for control of her body: one chemical attempting to reverse her aging, the other attempting to restore the natural aging process. In the end, the antidote won—but only by the narrowest of margins.

Chapter 1

After his return from space, Jeffrey Allen was promptly fired by Wild Blue for losing the Navikarana experiment. Casting about for work, he finally settled for a desk job with the King County Sheriff’s Department. Thanks to his extensive software skills, he soon found himself working in the Criminal Investigation Division’s Command Center, monitoring traffic cameras and assisting in forensic and crime searches. It was a good paying gig, but he wasn’t particularly happy with it.

Jeffrey also renewed his pilot’s license and added a floatplane certification. Flying out of Lake Union, he lost himself in the endless wonder and beauty of the Washington State landscape. He particularly loved flying from Lake Union to Friday Harbor in the San Juan Islands, passing over some of the most spectacular scenery to be found anywhere in the world.

Now and then, King County even paid him overtime to fly a criminal from one jurisdiction to another. Jeffrey became trained and certified to transport criminals using the Justice Prisoner and Alien Transportation System, or JPATS, more commonly known as Con Air—the largest prison transport network in the world.

Unfortunately, flying was just a fleeting diversion from the dreary reality of his life. Every day after work he returned to the houseboat on Lake Union that Anka had transformed from a bachelor pad to a real home, and he wept. He was surrounded by reminders of their incredible, oh-so-brief marriage. He considered moving out of the houseboat, but decided against it.

I already moved away from my memories once, he thought. I’ll just have to deal with it.

Jeffrey’s brief stint in space had made him a momentary hero, but that fame gradually faded too, until it was rarely mentioned around him. Whenever the subject did come up, he maintained the fiction that Anka had died of cancer in space, had been cast adrift in the Almaz capsule, and was vaporized during reentry. End of story. He refused to delve into the real reason for their flight to the International Space Station: Anka’s desperate attempt to halt the effects of the Navikarana treatment.

He quickly lost his interest in Sikhism, shaved his beard, and put away his Sikh kakar articles—his wooden comb, his iron bracelet, and his ceremonial sword. They were all painful reminders of the happiest time of his life, and how it had all ended in bitterness for him.

Of one thing he was absolutely, positively certain: There was no way on earth that he would ever remarry.

Chapter 2

Floating…

Silence…

Blackness…

Emptiness…

Anka’s soul at last achieved moksha, or liberation. From moksha, it was a short journey to nirvana—an utter, complete stillness of mind.

Nothingness…

Anka’s reverse gestation lasted for four months. Then the long, agonizing re-birth process began.

During reentry, her weightlessness slowly gave way to intense, suffocating pressure. Falling, spinning, rocking under her capsule’s parachute, she was tossed about inside the too-large Sokol spacesuit.

As her capsule struck the ocean, she was shocked into semi-consciousness.

As her re-birth neared its conclusion, she suddenly experienced her first, overwhelming light as the capsule was opened. She left the cozy, reassuring warmth of her spacesuit for the raw, biting ocean wind.

Soon she heard strange noises and felt pressure at various places on her body.

Cooing…

Growling…

Cradling…

Cold…

Stinging…

Warmth…

Hunger…

Her re-born mind struggled to process these strange sensations. Then it seized hold of the only coherent threads it could find—blurry, confused images from her first childhood:

Growing up in Amritsar, India.

The bad men who were all dressed alike coming to her house with long sticks that made loud noises.

Anandjot, her mother, picking her up and running for the door, terrified.

The loud, scary booming noises.

Her mother dropping her and screaming, as the back of her sari turned bright red.

The dressed-alike bad men carrying her somewhere, far away from her mother.

Men with beards attacking the bad men and stealing her back…

Chapter 3

Billy Mowitch was not superstitious. At least, he didn’t think he was superstitious. Oh, sure, he knew all the old Quileute legends: Qwati the Creator; Bayaq the Raven; Tistilal the Thunderbird, and all the rest. No vampires or werewolves—just good old-fashioned Native American lore.

A stint in the Air Force had pretty much cured him of all those old Indian tales. Still, when he looked up and saw that fireball in the sky coming straight toward him, he was suddenly reminded of Dask’iya, the Basket Woman, who supposedly ate children—the closest thing to a Grim Reaper in Quileute legend.

Billy had just stepped out of his house in La Push to check on the dogs for the night. It was around eleven o’clock, and one of those very rare cloudless nights on the Pacific Coast. Gazing to the west, he could just make out James Island in the bay—the ancestral burial ground of the Quileute. On every other side of him stood the dark, impenetrable Olympic Forest.

He looked to the north over the tops of the towering spruce and fir and caught a glint in the sky. He knew the stars as well as any seafaring Quileute—probably better than most; but this star was different. It was moving, and growing. He thought, A satellite, going north and south? No, those always just sail overhead—this one is dropping…

As he continued watching, the object grew larger and changed color from dull red to orange, then brilliant white. Sparks flew from it, leaving fiery trails behind. The celestial fireworks show took place in profound silence.

Whatever it is, it’s coming down fast. Probably some old piece of space junk.

Brighter and brighter it grew, until it appeared to be about the size of his outstretched thumb. It began corkscrewing as it descended—and it was still aimed straight at Billy, near as he could tell.

Tekie, come on out here, quick! You gotta see this!

A few moments later, Billy’s wife Tekie came shuffling out of the house in her bathrobe and sandals. As Billy pointed north, she squinted. Ak’ist’a’a she said to him. What is it?

Pilli cha’lta’a? he replied with a shrug. Who knows?

She switched to English, sounding nervous. Maybe we should git outta’ its way?

Billy was suddenly reminded of that big meteor that had recently exploded in Russia, killing many people. He shrugged. Too late now… ’sides, which way would we jump?

Suddenly there was a sharp BOOM-BOOM sound from the sky. Tekie jumped, and the dogs howled. "Tistilal, the Thunderbird!" she cried.

Naw… Just a sonic boom, Billie reassured her. Still, he thought, But from what?

Now Billy saw to his relief that the object was not aimed straight at them, but was heading for the ocean beyond James Island. It was still glowing a dull red color.

Suddenly there was a soft thoomp-sound, like sheets rattling on a laundry line, and the object seemed to stop in its tracks momentarily. Then it began bobbing crazily in the sky. Billy looked around and noticed that several of his neighbors had emerged from their houses too, and were staring and pointing at the sky-object.

Entranced, Billy continued to gaze at the object as it swung pendulum-like and slowly descended just beyond James Island. As the glow faded, the moonlight briefly illuminated a huge dome-shaped canopy above the object.

A parachute… I gotta check this out in the morning…

Chapter 4

Very early the next morning, Billy left home and walked down to the marina at the western end of La Push. Tekie had packed a lunch for him, since he planned to spend the whole day out on the ocean.

Time to catch me some halibut. And maybe I can find out what that fireball was about, last night.

Billy held a partial stake in High Tide Seafood along with his partner, Frank Howeattle. Like most Quileute enterprises, the business was run by the Tribal Council as a co-op. It didn’t bring in much cash; most days, Billy was content to just eke out a subsistence living from the business, with the occasional charter or really big catch making up the difference.

He entered the office and signed for a nineteen-foot aluminum fishing boat—one of a fleet run by the company. They were big enough to brave the ocean swells for halibut or sea bass in season, but still small and nimble enough to cruise up the Quileute River during steelhead season.

About that time, his partner Frank entered the office. Ha’ch ‘chi’í, Frank mumbled to him. He looked a bit hung over.

Morning to you too, Frank, Billy replied. Say, you see that big fireball in the sky last night?

Frank grinned past his bleary eyes and punched Billy in the shoulder. Sure, Billy. Am I that late? Y’ mean that big yellow thing up there? He pointed east.

No, no I’m serious! ’Bout eleven, it come down from th’ north boom-BOOM! Then it disappears behind the islands, out there. Whole bunch’a people saw it, ’sides me.

Frank nodded sagely. Sure, Billy. Just like that Creedence song, what was it? It Came Outta’ th’ Sky, or somethin’?

Billy was used to Frank’s gentle ribbing. He just smiled back, put on his life vest and began checking his gear. He filled several buckets with ice and dumped them in the boat’s cooler. He checked the bilge, topped off the gas tank, and stowed his lunch in the cubby. Meanwhile, Frank stowed the fishing poles, nets, gaffs and bait. They worked in silence. They had performed this ritual so many times together that few words were necessary.

Finally, Frank nodded to Billy, who took his place at the wheel. He pushed the start button and the Evinrude barked to life. Frank cast off the lines, and they headed out toward the sand bar marking the boundary between Rialto Beach and the Pacific Ocean. Frank sat back in his deck chair and popped open a beer.

Billy breathed deeply of the salt air, gazed out through the wheelhouse windows and took in the view. It was a crisp, clear spring morning with almost no wind—rare out here on the coast. On the far western horizon he could see a band of clouds moving toward them. He thought, That’s the usual weather around here, Billy boy. Enjoy the sun while you can.

He steered south and threaded the narrow passage between the breakwater and James Island. Once known as A-ka-lat, the haystack-shaped island was once the site of an ancient Quileute fortification and burial ground, but now it was surmounted by a Coast Guard lighthouse.

Billy cast his gaze to the horizon and noticed about a half-dozen other fishing boats trolling back and forth. First day of halibut season. First come, first serve—if you’re lucky enough to catch anything.

Billy guided the boat around the southern end of James Island, being careful to avoid several rocks that could rip his boat to shreds—and had, for several unfortunate fishermen he knew.

He found himself thinking back to the fireball the night before, and he tried to triangulate where it might have landed. Then he shrugged. It was somewhere beyond the island—that was all he knew.

There was a narrow bay on the western end of James Island, with a mouth barely eighty feet wide. Billy remembered coming here with his Pa when he was young, and camping out overnight on the ancestral grounds. He smiled.

Maybe someday I’ll bring my own son here. That is, if we ever have one… Haven’t had much luck with that, me an’ Tekie. She’s sure been moody lately since she lost her baby.

As he gazed up the narrow passage to the small beach, something caught his eye. It looked so completely out of place here, he was unable to process it for a moment. He swung the boat about and chopped the throttle.

Frank stirred. What’s up, man?

I dunno, Billy replied, pointing. You ever see anythin’ like that before?

Frank stood up and squinted down the channel, shielding his eyes. "What in the t’sik’ati… he breathed. What is it?"

A strange, greenish bottle-shaped object was partially beached and shifting in the swell. It was slightly taller than a man. The broad lower end was black as coal, and the cylindrical upper end tilted away from them.

I dunno… Let’s go see, Billy replied, as he nudged the throttle and steered for the passage.

Careful, Billy. Don’t run us onta’ th’ rocks.

Billy timed the swells, gunned the motor and expertly threaded the needle between the rocks at the mouth of the bay. The rock cliffs on either side extended sixty feet straight up and were topped by old-growth spruce and fir. The only level ground was at the far end of the bay.

As they approached the tiny beach, Billy chopped the throttle and Frank swung the anchor over his head and planted it firmly in the sand. Then they stood in silence for a moment and gazed in wonder at the strange object. It was attached to an enormous white and red parachute that bobbed in the surf.

Frank pulled out his cell phone and snapped several pictures of the object. Whadizzit? he said.

Dunno, Frank. It looks like some kinda’ space-ship, t’ me. Y’ know, the Russians like ta’ send cargo ships up t’ th’ space station? Then they fill ’em with white-man’s trash and send ’em back t’ earth? Maybe this’s one o’ them.

Frank shrugged. Let’s go see. He picked up his beer-can and made his way to the bow of the boat, followed by Billy. They jumped into the surf and approached the space-ship. Billy wrapped his arms around the smaller end of the object and heaved it around until it was grounded more firmly in the sand.

Frank tried to peer inside through a tiny window on the side, but he shook his head. Nope… Cain’t see a thing.

Wait—this looks like a hatch, maybe, said Billy. He was familiar with aircraft, having serviced them in the Air Force.

You sure this is safe to open? said Frank. It’s not gonna poison us, or make us glow in the dark or sumthin?

Billy was still puzzling over the latches. He opened a spring-loaded metal flap and saw a round silver handle. He grasped it firmly and twisted it a quarter-turn, and the hatch popped up a half-inch with a slight hiss.

Here goes… he said, and pulled the heavy hatch open.

Frank wrinkled his nose. Whoa… You weren’t kiddin’, Billy. That’s white-man’s trash, for sure.

Billy noticed it too—a stale, dry, moldy smell, like dead meat. He was still holding the hatch open with both hands. What d’ you see?

Frank poked his head into the space-craft. Not much… Just a suit and helmet, sorta’ like a deep-sea diver’d wear. He recoiled in horror. You don’ think someone died up there, an’ they dumped ’em inta’ space, do you?

Billy hesitated, and then he glanced at the Indian burial ground up on the bluff and shrugged. I’m not superstitious, and yet… I dunno…but it would be kinda proper, seen’ as they landed right here.

Billy swung the hatch all the way back and peered in. Now he saw it, too: a white and blue spacesuit with a helmet attached, strapped into the right seat of the space-ship. The legs and feet hung slack, as if it was empty.

Then the suit moved slightly. Frank recoiled. "Oh, kisbi, Billy—it’s alive!"

Now Billy saw it too: a slight stirring, as if something was slowly breathing inside the suit.

What is it? Frank shouted.

I told ya ’bout the fireball last night, right, Frank? This’s what I saw, but you din’t believe me. Lessee what’s inside.

He reached inside the space-ship and grasped the helmet latch, but Frank pulled him back. Don’t touch it! It could be some kinda space creature, or somethin!

Billy rolled his eyes. Come on Frank! You been watchin’ too many movies! There ain’t no vampires or werewolves ’round here!

Or zombies? Frank said timidly. He took a long swig from his beer-can.

No zombies, neither.

Billy reached for the helmet latch again and twisted it sideways. The visor came loose with a soft click, and he swung it back.

The suit appeared to be empty. All he could see was the inside back of the helmet. Curious, he hesitantly slipped his hand into the helmet and felt around inside the collar. He reached down inside the suit and paused.

What is it? What is it? Frank said, bug-eyed.

Trembling, Billy withdrew his hand. "I think I felt a head down there—a human head."

Frank grabbed Billy’s arm. That’s it—we’re outta here!

They paused as they heard a faint, high-pitched mewling sound.

What was that? Frank whispered.

Sounds like a baby, Billy whispered back as he approached the space-ship again.

Don’t do it, Billy, Frank said, but Billy ignored him. He puzzled over the strange suit; then he unzipped the v-shaped zipper on the outer canvas cover. Inside, he found a tan-colored rubber inner layer, bound together with a large rubber band.

Frank shook his head emphatically. Billy…

Billy tugged on the rubber band and slowly worked it loose from the extra fabric. Then he spread the folds and peered in through the opening.

What is it? What is it? Frank croaked.

Billy’s muffled voice came back. You’re not gonna believe this.

He pulled his head out, spread the rubber fabric wider and pointed. There, lying in the back of the spacesuit, was a tiny black-haired baby. It was swathed in yard after yard of red and gold silk fabric, and was fast asleep.

Chapter 5

The two men stood in silence for a moment, staring at the baby. Finally, Billy whispered, "A’chit… Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Frank?"

Dunno… What’re you thinkin’, Billy?

Billy took a deep breath. I think…two Anglos up on that space station made whoopee together, an’ then they tried to get rid o’ their baby.

Frank shrugged. Maybe… Whaddo we do with it?

Billy thought hard. Well… It looks sorta’ Indian, like you an’ me. Maybe Tekie an’ me, we could adopt it?

Frank smiled. He knew Billy and Tekie had not been able to have children. Sure, Billy. Just one problem, though: How you gonna ’splain where it come from? The planet Krypton, maybe? He took another sip from his beer-can.

Billy waved his hands. No! We’ll just say, uh, we found it on the beach, right? Not a word about…this. He pointed to the space-ship.

Frank nodded. Sure thing, man. Let’s get it outta there.

Billy reached inside the space-suit and carefully lifted the baby out, still swaddled in the silk cloth. It was still fast asleep.

Frank said, What’s with all that red cloth, I wonder?

How should I know? Maybe it’s like Superman’s blanket from Krypton, or somethin!

Yeah… You think the kid has super powers?

Billy just rolled his eyes.

Wrapped loosely around the child’s right arm was an old piece of surgical tape, holding a plastic bag filled with some kind of blackened paste. A surgical IV needle hung from the lower end of the bag. Billy pulled the tape loose and threw the bag into the space-ship. He cradled the baby in his arm, spread the red cloth and peeked inside. It’s a girl, he said. He felt a thrill run through him. Wait’ll Tekie sees her… She’s beautiful.

Frank replied, Right. Let’s get her outta’ here.

Wait… Billy said, while glancing at the interior of the space-ship. He noticed something familiar-looking, attached to the instrument panel. He reached in as far as he could with his one free arm and pulled the Garmin GPS free from its Velcro anchor; then he slipped it into his pocket.

Frank finished off his beer, threw the can into the space capsule and helped Billy lift the baby over the gunwale of the boat. Then Billy retrieved the anchor, climbed back in the boat and gunned the motor in reverse. Backing away from the beach, he cast a final glance at the space-ship, his mind racing. Who built it? It must be Russian, the Americans don’t have their own space-ships now. Why would someone stick a baby in a space suit and cast it adrift? How’d it get up there in the first place, or was it born there… He shook his head. Too many questions.

He spun the wheel and steered toward the narrow passage leading back to the Pacific Ocean. He glanced back and saw Frank cradling the baby in his arm. He had popped another beer.

Chapter 6

By the time they arrived back at the marina, it was late morning. Billy shrugged apologetically. Guess we won’t be catchin’ much fish today, Frank.

Frank slapped him on the arm. Aw, that’s okay Billy! You go on home, an’ I’ll find someone else t’ fish with. He handed the baby to Billy.

Thanks, Frank. An’ not a word ’bout this, okay?

Not a word. Frank smiled.

Billy carefully cradled the baby in his arm and stepped onto the dock.

The town of La Push was less than a mile square, so it took just a few minutes for Billy to return home. In a small town with no secrets, he noticed a whole lot of his neighbors staring at him as he carried the baby.

He hesitated at the porch, rehearsing his story in his mind. Women can see right through you when you lie. Don’t mess this up, Billy.

Tekie must have heard him approaching. The door opened just before he reached it, and Tekie stepped out onto the porch. She looked at him in surprise. Billy? You home early? Then she saw the baby. Her eyes widened, and her mouth made an O.

Billy held the baby out to her. We found her on the beach.

Tekie took the huge silk bundle and gazed in wonder at the tiny baby inside. T’sacho’otsk’… she cooed. Little baby… Then her face froze. She clouded up and began weeping. Looking down, she sobbed, Billy, how could you? All these years I been faithful t’ you, an’ this is what you give me? A love-child? Who you been shackin’ up with?

Billy frantically waved his hands. No, no, I’m tellin’ the truth, Tekie! Frank was there too. We were just, uh, walkin’ on the beach an’ there she was lyin’ on the sand. Yeah… Someone musta ’bandoned her.

Tekie’s tear-stained eyes locked fiercely with Billy’s.

Here it comes, he thought desperately.

She sniffled as she looked deep into Billy’s soul. "Billy Mowitch, do you swear to me by Qwati the Creator that you’re tellin’ the truth?"

He nodded his head firmly. Yeah, Tekie, I sure do. Just ask Frank, if you don’ believe me.

She sighed, and put her arm around him.

He let out a deep sigh of relief. She believes me. You ’member that fireball last night? It was an omen, wasn’t it?

Gazing fondly down at the baby girl’s long, black hair, she said, smiling, "Yeah… I name you Bayaq—Raven."

She turned around on the porch and glanced at their tiny cottage. Guess we’ll hafta’ make some changes ’round here. I need you to go fetch me some stuff from the store, Billy.

Stuff?

She gave him that You old fool look and waved her hand. "Yeah, diapers, formula, baby wipes, shampoo, burp cloths, you know—baby stuff! Can you ’member all that? An’ we’ll need a cradle too, when you get back. An’ you need ta’ clear a spot for her in the back room and—"

He finally broke in. Sure thing, Tekie. He looked down at their new daughter and smiled. She was still fast asleep.

Raven… That’s a real pretty name—I like it. He pecked Tekie on the cheek and headed off to the store.

Chapter 7

Billy walked down Ocean Front Drive to the Lonesome Creek Store. It was pretty much the only place you could buy things in La Push—the next nearest store was fifteen miles away in Forks.

Billy thought, I hope they got what she needs.

When he arrived, he approached the cashier and frantically tried to remember the list of items Tekie had rattled off to him, just ten minutes earlier. Racking his brain, he stared at the cashier, Edie Kowoosh. She finally said, "Ha’ch ‘chi’i, Billy. You here to buy somethin’, or you wanna just stare at me all day?"

Billy jumped. Huh? Oh, sorry, Edie. Yeah, I need some, ah, stuff—baby stuff.

Her eyes narrowed. Baby stuff? You mean, like birth control—

Billy shook his head. "No, no! We have a new baby girl at our house, and Tekie needs lots of, uh, stuff for her. You know what I mean—kid stuff."

Her broad face broke into a grin. Oh… Sure, I get it! I didn’t even know Tekie was expecting—

The baby’s not hers, Billy said quickly.

Edie suddenly frowned. She leaned forward and planted her hands on the counter. She glared at him and said, "Billy Mowitch, have you been shackin’ up wi’ that lil’ kadido on Thunder Road? I swear, if you were—"

No! Like I told Tekie, Frank an’ I foun’ this baby girl on the beach, this mornin’.

Oh…sure, Edie said, looking skeptical. What’s her name?

Billy smiled. Raven! Like I said, we need—you know, lots o’ baby stuff for her.

Edie grinned again. Yeah, I hear ya. C’mon back an’ I’ll load you up.

Ten minutes later, Billy staggered up to the counter with his load and dropped it. Edie rang it up.

That’ll be two hundred-fifty-six dollars an’ nineteen cents, Billy.

Billy swallowed hard. Thanks, Edie. Can y’ put it on my tab?

She looked askance. It’s a really big tab, Billy.

I know… Fishn’s been poor, lately.

She gave him an exasperated look. Billy, you’d make a whole lot more money if you dumped that lazy partner o’ yours, Frank. All he does is drink.

Yeah, well… Frank an’ I go way back together. I’m just tryin’ t’ help ‘im out, y’know?

She relented. Yeah. me too.

He fished around in his pocket and felt something. He pulled out the Garmin GPS from the space-ship. Oh, by th’ way... You got a computer ’round here somewhere?

Sure, Billy—what for?

I, uh, just wanna see where this GPS gadget has been, that’s all.

Where’d you find it? she said.

On the beach, this morning.

With the baby?

Yeah, sumthin’ like that.

Too many questions.

She gestured to the back of the store. C’mon back to my office. I got a computer back there.

Billy followed Edie back to her tiny office. She took the Garmin from him and looked at it. The face-plate’s broken. You sure it still works?

He shrugged. No way t’ know.

Edie fished around for a USB cable and plugged the Garmin into her computer. A moment later it spoke in a garbled woman’s voice. You have passed your destination. Turn right at the next intersection.

Edie mumbled, Yeah, right. The story of my life.

She tapped at her keyboard, and soon a map of the Earth appeared. Ah, that’s better. It’ll take a bit to download the route info.

They waited about ten seconds. Then they watched, puzzled, as a series of purple lines began spiraling around the Earth. Soon the Earth map was enveloped in a basket-weave pattern of intersecting lines.

Edie looked up at Billy, completely baffled. Man… Whoever this guy was, he really liked to drive.

Edie, can you figger out where he started from, an’ where he, uh, finished up?

I think so, she said, leaning over her keyboard and tapping. A moment later the map was replaced by a list of waypoints. Only two locations were listed:

Chennai, Tamil Nadu, India

La Push, Clallam County, Washington, USA

They stared at the screen, uncomprehending. Then Edie leaned forward and pointed at the screen. Billy, look at this! Whoever this guy was, he was driving about two hundred and fifty miles high, for four months straight! Where did you say you got this box?

Billy was getting nervous. I told ya, we found it on the beach!

"With the baby, right? So, this baby girl drove around—or flew around in space, I guess—for four months, starting from India? What kinda horse-báksti are you feeding me?"

Desperately, Billy spread his hands. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s true, Edie!

She stood up and picked up her desk phone. I’m callin’ the authorities. Somethin’ don’t smell right, here.

No, Edie! Don’t do it!

She spoke over the top of the handset. An’ if you wanna save your marriage, I suggest you get yourself home before Officer Firemoon gets there. I’m just sayin’.

But—

She ignored Billy and started dialing. Billy beat a hasty retreat, picked up his baby stuff at the front counter, and headed for the door. Put it on my tab, okay? he shouted.

Sure… Whatever, Billy, she shouted back from the office.

When Billy arrived breathless at his house a few minutes later, he saw a rusty old black-and-white Ford Galaxie with a single red rotating light on top, and the letters QTC on the side—the Quileute Tribal Council. It looked remarkably like Barney Fife’s old Mayberry police cruiser.

Billy groaned. What’ve I got myself into?

Mel Firemoon opened the Galaxie’s door and dramatically stepped out, adjusting his Smoky Bear hat. He was an imposing figure in his tan Tribal Council uniform and Oakley sunglasses.

Billy despised Mel—as did most of the inhabitants of La Push. Mel, however, considered himself the most important man in town, if not the whole reservation. It was his solemn duty to round up drunks, intervene in domestic squabbles, and serve as