The Complete Exoskeleton Chronicles

By Chad Descoteaux

The ENTIRE bug-squashing trilogy in one volume!!!
Jeremy Boon is an autistic pest control expert. His father, Dr. Andrew Boon, disappeared ten years ago after being part of a top-secret military think tank that was developing mutant insects to be used as drones. When Jeremy gets the biggest fumigation job of his career, he must use his expertise to protect Elaine, the girl that he's loved since he was a child, and her son Keith, from the gun-toting mutant insects his own father had a hand in creating.
Because the mutant insects were just the beginning!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chad Descoteaux
• Release date: Mar 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005088842

Chad Descoteaux

I am a self-published, mildly autistic science fiction author who combines quirky sci-fi elements with issues that we can all relate to. Check out my official website www.turtlerocketbooks.com

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Jeremy Boon’s journal.

I just killed some of my best friends, friends I kept in jars in my room for most of their admittedly-short lifespans. I fed them, played with them and confided my problems in them when everyone else in my life thought I was being a freak. But, a few minutes ago, I just lost it. I started blaming them for my family problems and just wanted them out of my life. I dumped them out of their jars, onto my window sill, before making them go splat, one-by-one, with a trusty Adidas in my hand. I can still see their gooey remains on the bottom of that ratty old sneaker. They are gone.

Now, I only have one friend in the world. Elaine. I wonder what she’ll say when she finds out what I did to my bugs. She knows my bug collection has been my whole life for as long as I’ve had one, about as long as we’ve known each other. She always calls me ‘Bug-Boy’. She actually helped me find some of the cooler insects I’ve ever had. I miss the nature treks we used to take, exploring the woods between our houses. Well, my old house, back at the trailer park. I miss Pineland Park.

Elaine knows I’ve been upset with my parents for a while. She’s also known me long enough to know that things weren’t always this way in my life. She and I have been best friends since elementary school. I met her at the school science fair, something I used to do every year with my dad. My dad used to teach an insect biology class at the University of New Hampshire. I would always do reports on insects and win blue ribbons by rattling off the Latin scientific name of each insect, something that would impress my teachers make my father beam with pride from the front row of the audience. Even to this day, if someone were to say spur-throated grasshopper, the phrase melanoplus bivittatus would immediately pop into my head and out of my mouth if I let it. Bunch of useless knowledge. I’m fifteen-years-old. I can’t figure out how to talk to cute girls without stuttering like a machine gun, but I know what an oencanthus fultoni is.

I think things started to change when we moved out of the trailer park. My parents and I lived in a trailer until last year, when I was fourteen. Mom and Dad were always talking about how they were saving up money to buy a house. Well, when my dad got a higher paying job at a company whose genetics division had military contracts, it was time to move out of what my grandmother playfully referred to as the ‘portable ghetto’. We moved into a bigger place in the still-in-the-middle-of-the-woods suburbs of Wolfeboro, New Hampshire. I was still in the same school district, so I didn’t have to leave my one friend behind, which was good, because that was when our family life started to deteriorate. I would need Elaine to confide in more than ever.

My father and I used to be inseparable. He would always come home from work a few minutes after I got home from school. He would help my mom with dinner and me with my homework. They always seemed so happy. They were a team. They always made each other laugh to boost the morale of their bond as they shared in household chores together. But that all ended when we moved into the bigger house.

My dad would work from the early hours of the morning until at least seven at night. The nature of his job made it impossible for him to call home when he was going to be late, because he was cooped up in a very secure, top secret laboratory with no phones or Internet going out. This made my mother upset, as our routine of eating dinner together as a family was compromised. She didn’t know when to start cooking so it would be ready for him when he got home and this was the start of many arguments as my dad would come home exhausted and hungry at a different time every night.

My father used to chat with us about what happened at work that day during dinner, which was of moderate interest to someone like me, who loved learning about insects. Now, he was either too tired or what he was working on was military-level classified anyway, so there was a distinct breakdown in communication. Arguments became more frequent between my parents. I overheard a lot of hurtful things being screamed both ways, across the living room, from behind their bedroom door and up the stairs.

Elaine was always there for me. Let’s just say she could relate when I started talking about how my parents were fighting all the time. She’s told me some stuff about what it was like before her dad moved out. I’m sure she realizes that I don’t need any more stress in my life, which is why she always sticks up for me when guys like Wally Crimson are pushing me around. Then again, I can see why Wally doesn’t like me. There was that one time when his brother Neil was trying to burn this melanoplus bivittatus with a magnifying glass in the school parking lot. I kind of pushed him around. I called him a psycho and threw one of his shoes in the dumpster, but only to rescue the innocent insect from a horrible, fiery death from the smelliest kid in school. Wally would have thrown me in that same dumpster too if Elaine hadn’t stepped in. I owe her a lot.

And now I’m leaving her behind. Mom is moving me three hours away to live with her sister in Rhode Island after the divorce is final. I don’t know why I took out my frustration on my insect collection. It just reminds me of my dad, I suppose. Insects are his career and his career broke up our family. It’s a fair association.

I should probably go say goodbye to Elaine. She understands how needlessly anxious I feel when I have to interact with people. She knows how hard eye contact is for me and how hard it is for me share my feelings without burying my head in the sand like a jittery ostrich. But she won’t understand if I don’t say goodbye. She’ll be upset. But I can’t. I guess that’s one last friendship that’s about to go SPLAT!

CHAPTER ONE

BUG BUSTERS

Twenty years later.

Somewhere in Rhode Island.

Poking his head through a grate with a gas mask on his face, thirty-five-year-old pest control worker Jeremy Boon watched with ardent interest as a cockroach stumbled through a ventilation duct. The determined roach was making his way towards a crack in the cement foundation of this twenty-year-old office building. Jeremy recognized this species of insect right away, having been in the fumigation business for many years, not to mention his childhood obsession with insects.

American cockroach. he thought as the cockroach used his hind legs to push himself through this crack in the wall of this vent. Periplaneta americana. Jeremy smiled underneath his mask. He knew he had found where the infestation was, which would make the rest of his job much easier.

Pulling his head out of the hole in the ceiling, Jeremy looked over at his business partner, Bill, who was standing next to a clean-cut, neatly-dressed accountant named Glen Hall. Glen was the man who had hired them for this job. He was the head accountant at this accounting firm and waited eagerly for Jeremy’s expert diagnosis of the problem.

I found the nest, Jeremy said emphatically. Realizing his voice was muffled by his gas mask, he pulled off the mask before speaking. Why do I always think one step ahead? Jeremy thought to himself, frustrated. I should have waited until I was ready to spray before I put on this stupid mask.

Well, that’s good, Glen said, seemingly relieved. The floor has been evacuated, so you guys can spray if you want.

Well, actually, I wanted to try something different first, Jeremy said. He stepped down from the chair he was standing on and looked around the room, formulating a plan in his mind. By the time he looked up and smiled knowingly at Bill, Bill knew what Jeremy was thinking.

Bill reached into a duffel bag and pulled out a small, clear plastic dome, about the size of a pizza pan. Glen watched with curiosity as Jeremy opened a small suitcase, about the size of a toolbox. This suitcase contained countless small vials of differently-colored liquid. He found one that was labeled ‘Periplanta Americana’ and took off the cap. He screwed this vial of liquid into a small port on the side of the plastic dome. The liquid spilled into the bottom of this device, piquing Glen’s curiosity as Bill secured a second tube to the port on the other side. This tube was from the large, metal tank of insecticide Bill was wearing on his back.

Sensing Glen was confused and always relishing the opportunity to rattle off at the mouth about something he had meticulously constructed himself, Jeremy started to explain what this dome was. An invention of my own design, Jeremy said proudly as Bill rolled his eyes at his geeky friend. He had heard this speech a thousand times in front of a thousand different clients before. These vials contain pheromones for every insect I usually come into contact with in my line of work. This device has a heating unit underneath it that will evaporate the liquid and send the aroma of the pheromone solution into the air. Glen took a closer look at this plastic dome and sort of understood how it worked, now that it had both the pheromone solution and a tube full of poison plugged into it. In about four minutes, every cockroach in that nest will be scrambling towards this thing like its mating season. Or spring break.

Oh, so it attracts them into this dome and then you turn on the poison, Glen said, a bit impressed by this unusual invention. I see.

It allows me to use a very small amount of poison, compared to what the big pest control companies would use just by callously dumping a half tank of pesticide into that small crack, Jeremy explained. With this, our efforts are more focused. It’s safer for the environment, pets, people…

Told you, Uncle Glen, Bill interrupted. Jeremy knows his stuff. He’s been obsessed with insects for as long as I’ve known him. He knows what they do, what they like, how they mate. Even how they think,

You invented this yourself? Glen asked Jeremy.

Yup, Jeremy replied. I patented it too. But, honestly, I don’t have much of a business mentality as far as marketing and selling these things are concerned. All I know is killing bugs.

Glen was so fascinated with Jeremy’s invention, tentatively nicknamed The Bug Dome, that the two pest control workers let him stick around to see how it worked. They just happened to have an extra gas mask, so Glen put one on along with Bill as Jeremy activated the device. Steam that represented the evaporated pheromones billowed out of the machine and it barely took three minutes to start working.

Suddenly, the tiles that made up the ceiling of this office started teeming with cockroaches, all pouring down the walls like they were made of brown liquid. The cockroaches crawled up the legs of the table in unison and dropped into the small hole on the top of this dome one by one. Bill tried not to think about the fact these few hundred cockroaches were all mating with each other as he sealed off the top of the Bug Dome and turned on the poison. Bug orgy! Bill quipped as he turned the knob on the poison tank up to full blast. Green smog filled the dome and concealed these countless twitching, dying insects from view.

Soon, the vigorous scrambling activity inside the dome started to slow down. When the pesticides filtered out of the side of this device, the dome was filled with dead cockroaches that could easily be disposed of by dumping the contents of the Bug Dome into the garbage and washing it out with ammonia.

Glen started laughing. He had no clue how easy this office fumigation job would be and was happy he could report a successful endeavor back to his own bosses. And, being an accountant and a far more business-minded person than Jeremy, thoughts started going through Glen’s mind about how to market this amazing device to homeowners. He saw these Bug Domes on store shelves in every hardware department and every hardware store in the country. Even if there was no poison involved, people could just get all the bugs to pile into this machine so they could be tossed in the garbage. Maybe there could be some kind of disposable bag in the dome, like a vacuum cleaner or litter box. What convenience! Glen thought.

After jokingly suggesting that Jeremy go on the popular TV show ‘Shark Bait’ and pitch his invention to the corporate sharks on that show, looking for new and innovative investments, Glen had an idea. He thought of an old friend of his who recently bought a popular chain of hardware stores. I could give you his e-mail, Glen suggested to Jeremy. He might know someone who would like to invest in this thing.

Knowing he was way too socially nervous to actually go in front of a bunch of business people, especially on national TV, and pitch his invention, Jeremy politely accepted a business card from Glen. The man’s name was Larry Sawyer and his offices were in New York City, a four-hour drive away from Jeremy’s current Rhode Island address. The very thought of driving in a city as large and cluttered as New York City made Jeremy nervous. He slipped the business card into his breast pocket, thanking Glen for his encouraging words.

Walking out of the building with a tank of pesticides on his back and the rest of his equipment in his hands, Jeremy followed Bill towards their business van, which, thanks to Bill, was callously double-parked over two handicapped spots. The side of the van was decorated with their business logo, an international ‘no’ symbol crossing out a frightened-looking cartoon cockroach. The back of the van had the same logo, along with the name of Jeremy’s company ‘Bug-Busters’ and their phone number, 555-SPLAT. Whistling the theme from one of his favorite 1980’s movies (and the inspiration for the name of their business) ‘Ghostbusters’, Bill opened the back of the van and started loading the equipment into it.

I think you should call that guy, Bill said to Jeremy, tossing the duffel bag in on top of the poison tanks.

About the Bug Dome?

Yeah. It’s a great invention. It’ll be great to get rich off something you’re passionate about, dude. You can retire by age 40. Buy a house in Bel-Air, Bill said with a certain enthusiasm only Bill Hall could pull off. What better way to put the big pest control companies out of business than by giving the common man the same power they charge too much money for? Jeremy could not help but smile at his friends’ humorously rebellious attitude. Hey, if you want to give your pitch a little more showmanship, I could always go with you. I used to do improv comedy in college, remember?

Jeremy remembered. He shut the doors on the back of the van as both he and Bill got into the front. Bill was still whistling the Ghostbusters theme as Jeremy got into the van. Who ya gonna call? he sang, turning to Jeremy and teasing his friend some more. "Hopefully that guy!"

Bill lived on the other side of town from his Uncle Glen’s office building, so Jeremy drove him home before heading home himself. You sure you don’t wanna come by? Bill asked Jeremy after he had spent the entire ride home talking about a kegger he was supposed to have with some friends this evening. Most of my female coworkers are a couple of years younger than us. My friend Josh can give you some insider information on which chick you have a better shot with. Actually, a couple of them have recently gotten dumped. One girl recently lost a lot of weight and doesn’t know how to handle the extra attention she gets from men. It’s pretty much gonna be a science experiment where we try to boost our low self-esteem with alcohol. The women are just the control group.

When Jeremy and Bill were in college together, Jeremy would have jumped at the chance to socialize and meet some attractive single women. But recently, he felt less and less like being around people, as if the part of his brain that wanted to socialize got tired quicker than the rest of his brain. Dealing with clients from his pest control business was enough to make him want to veg in front of the TV for the rest of the night. So, he respectfully declined Bill’s tempting invitation and drove home.

On his way home, Jeremy got hungry. He lived in a second-floor apartment, right upstairs from a hot dog restaurant called ‘Starlight Wieners’. Smelling the delicious aromas of squirrel meat and raccoon meat coming from the first floor was enough to make his stomach growl.

He ran upstairs for just a moment, to take a pill he needed to take. He needed it so he would be able to simply walk into this small hole-in-the-wall diner and order a meal. It was a pill that curbed his anxiety. It was made necessary by a day full of social stimulation, which was way more tiring to his brain than carrying a tank of pesticides was to his now-aching back.

Walking into his favorite wiener place, one of five in the small dilapidated mill town of Woonsocket, Rhode Island, Jeremy smiled at the first person he saw when he walked in the door. It was Maria, a curvaceous, forty-something Spanish woman who always lit up the restaurant with her friendly face and bright smile. Seeing her leaning over the front counter, cleaning it off, always got a rise out of Jeremy. Good thing I took my pill, Jeremy thought. Wouldn’t be able to talk to her good. Realizing he had just used improper English in his own thoughts, Jeremy started to panic. Darn it! My pill hasn’t kicked in yet. Man, look at that body! Don’t say that out loud! Crap! Am I staring too much?

H-h-hola, Maria, said Jeremy, forcing a friendly smile as nervous thoughts raced through his head. Como estas?

Bien, Jeremy, Maria replied, pulling out a sheet of paper. Your usual? Two hot wieners and a Zap cola?

Si, mi amiga, Jeremy replied, using the rest of the Spanish he actually knew and feeling his courage increasing with every word he spoke to the beautiful Latina. Actually, make it three wieners. I worked up an appetite today. Jeremy sat down at the front counter next to her as he spoke.

How you can work up an appetite spraying for cockroaches is beyond me, Maria replied, writing down Jeremy’s order with her sexy accent fully intact. Disgusting!

Well, it’s kind of like working for the mob, actually, Jeremy said. His pill had calmed him enough, so he wasn’t too nervous to make the first joke that popped into his head. He started doing an exaggerated Italian accent, an impression of every gangster movie he had ever seen. I take care of problems and get rid of the bodies, he said, making the beautiful Spanish woman in front of him crack up laughing.

The Bug Father, joked a familiar voice behind him. Jeremy turned around and saw Vinnie, the scruffy, messy-haired Italian man who owned Starlight Wieners. He was wiping his sweaty hands on his grease-covered apron.

Hey, Vinnie, said Jeremy, shaking the hand of one of his more animated regular clients.

Glad you came in today, brother. I was just about to call you, Vinnie said, putting his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, making him feel a bit uncomfortable by the physical contact. I think my kitchen needs another bug-busting.

Now, there were other customers in the restaurant at the moment who were already eating their food. And Vinnie didn’t bother to lower his booming, enthusiastic voice when he said that his kitchen needed another bug-busting. The customers could see the ‘Bug-Busters’ logo on the back of Jeremy’s jumpsuit. He was still wearing it after work, so they were a little grossed out to know of a problem the owner was having with the very kitchen this food had come from. Oh, it’s disgusting! Maria added fervently, confirming their suspicions. I don’t even like to go back there!

You’d be proud of Maria, Vinnie told Jeremy. Yesterday, she was back in my stock room with a work boot on either hand, dispensing justice! Vinnie pantomimed what Maria looked like, squishing insects with two boots on her hands. This made Maria laugh and she gave Vinnie a playful shove. The other customers could not believe what they were hearing and decided to leave the restaurant without finishing their meals.

Halfway through Jeremy’s meal, Maria walked over to his table. The hard-working business owner was shoving the last of three hot wieners into his mouth. Seeing Maria walk over to him when he was voraciously gobbling up his meal made him a bit self-conscious.

After sitting down next to him, Maria told Jeremy that she would be going back home to Columbia in about a week or so. There was a whole dramatic back story about her uncle being a rich plantation owner with no daughters and her father putting together an arranged marriage to an elderly politician that would allow him to get part of his brother’s immense fortune. But she didn’t tell Jeremy any of that, just that she was going back home for family business.

Shoving the last bit of his meat-covered hot dog into his mouth, Jeremy thought about all the missed opportunities he had since he had been patronizing this diner. All the times where he had thought about asking for Maria’s phone number or asking her out for a cup of coffee and his anxiety had gotten the best of him, pill or no pill.

She’s leaving, dude, Jeremy spoke to himself in his head as he tapped his fingers against the counter beneath him. He took the plastic fork and the knife he had been given and lined them up in a perfect straight line on the counter. This was one of his nervous tics, a sign that he was living inside his own head at the moment. Ask her out for a cup of coffee. I know that might make her leaving more painful if we hit it off, but Jesus, man…take some risks in your life that don’t involve inhaling pesticides.

Well, I’m certainly going to miss seeing you, Maria, Jeremy said, sounding like a disappointed child. His fingers desperately searched for something to hold and he started twirling the plastic fork in between his jittery fingers.

I’m going to miss you too, Maria replied, obviously touched by Jeremy’s words. I’ve made so many friends here.

So, she’s probably gonna come back, Jeremy continued arguing with himself. Plus, it’s the 21st century, you can keep in touch with people who live in Columbia. Ever hear of Skype? And you’re a business owner, you can afford a plane ticket to South America. Summer is coming. You usually make more money in the summer. Use more pesticides, you can charge people more for your time. Don’t be such a tree-hugging hippie cheap skate. Look at those curves!

Would you like to grab a cup of coffee, um…with me…before you leave? Jeremy just blurted out, excited that his words had come out in a coherent way, despite his nerves. Other than this place, I don’t think I have any jobs lined up until next week.

When Maria turned down Jeremy’s invitation to coffee, it was because she was an honorable woman, not wanting to behave in a disrespectful way to her father, her uncle or the one she had been betrothed to. True, rich families in her home country had mob ties, so there was the potential that any known attachment to another man could result in bloodshed for her family. But the disappointment on Maria’s face when she said ‘no’ to Jeremy came from her internal conflict of liking Jeremy and wanting to spend time with him versus her belief that young women should act in an honorable way towards the men in their families who define their lives and cultures.

But, as usual, Jeremy beat himself up for not being more assertive in his life, something Asperger’s Syndrome, the neurological condition that defined a large portion of his life, had a large hand in. After ordering some French fries, Jeremy dipped them in ketchup as he sulked in his own life’s disappointments, blaming himself for things bad timing and circumstances he couldn’t control were responsible for.

***

Meanwhile, in a remote portion of Nebraska, an elderly woman, the widow of a farmer, cowered under the slanted ceiling of her rustic farm house attic. She was white as a sheet, frightened half to death. In her mind, she played over and over again the most frightening sound she ever heard. It was only ten minutes ago, so she had yet to get over the shock of the experience.

She had been sitting in her rocking chair, on her porch, enjoying both the afternoon breeze of the day and some cold iced tea when she heard an unusual noise. It was a buzzing sound that just kept getting louder and louder every few seconds. This woman was familiar with the sounds of all the animals her neighbors had on their farms, as well as those who lived in the wild around here. This noise sounded like it was made by something alive, as the buzzing sound went up and down with various pitches and tones. But it soon got so loud that it pounded this woman’s sensitive hearing like a thousand atom bombs.

Looking up, she saw a large, flat dark cloud that waved overhead and concealed the bright afternoon sun from her view. Lanky, buzzing, darkly-colored creatures started dropping down from this cloud, landing on their clawed feet before attacking, not the woman, but some of her farming equipment. They would dismantle these machines within seconds. A team of man-sized, monstrous-looking insects that walked on two legs took apart her tractor with their spiked, claw-like upper appendages. They wielded the blades from these various farm tools as makeshift weapons as more insects took to the skies, carrying the cows off her farm, much to her horrified dismay. Each cow let out a frightened ‘moo’ as they whipped fiercely through the air, soon to be ripped apart and eaten by the few six-foot-tall beetles that were part of this multi-species group of insects.

The woman let out a scream and fell backwards in her rocking chair, something she could not do if she tried to. As she slowly climbed back up, rubbing the back of her head in a confused stupor, the ominous cloud of giant insects was disappearing over the equally-flat horizon of Nebraskan farm land. It was then that this elderly woman headed upstairs to her attic. She managed to find an old tape recorder her husband left behind when he passed away. Wishing she had a video camera, she managed to record the otherworldly buzzing noise, afraid that no one would believe her story without some kind of proof.

All it took was one listen to that tape to bring back the horror of the experience, causing this woman to break down in tears, between the fear of these creatures coming back, the fear no one would believe her and the fear that she was going insane.

CHAPTER TWO

SINGLE PARENTS

Using the high-level of focus her own mildly-autistic brain afforded her, thirty-five-year old single mother Elaine Lanctot sorted and organized paperwork at a speed that usually made her coworkers stare and nod in admiration. Elaine had been working at the State House, as a secretary for New Hampshire Senator George Friedmont, for over a decade and she can’t remember the last time she got one of his itinerary forms out of order. She thumbed through the papers, eyeing the numbers on the top right corner to double-check her work before heading into her boss’ office.

She passed an office where a small black and white television was playing. Three office workers were taking their coffee breaks in there, watching news coverage about a very important world event at the United Nations building in New York City. A female reporter was standing in front of the Isaiah Wall at the United Nations. She narrated the tension of the scene as foreign dignitaries from all over the world filed out of limos in front of U.N. Headquarters. Elaine’s level of focus on the task at hand was so high, she didn’t notice either the noise from the TV or the coworkers who said ‘hi’ as she walked by.

About six months ago, Khammont Amnatkeo, the Prime Minister of the Southeast Asian nation of Bhelkashan had addressed the United States Senate after being invited to do so by United States President Boyd Hassard. Despite possessing the world’s largest supply of biological weapons and despite his nation suffering from terrorist attacks from three of their neighbors, Mr. Prime Minister promised to turn all his weapons over to the United Nations to be dismantled and disposed of. This was thanks to the diplomatic efforts of both President Hassard and the UN. Mr. Amnatkeo was greeted with thunderous applause by U.S. Senators from both parties when he outlined the peaceful resolution he was willing to agree to in this biological arms race.

There was a time when I dreamed of crushing the enemies of my nation like they were mere insects. But the national security of Bhelkashan is not worth undermining the trust of our friends and allies in other nations who have been kind to our people in times of great need, said the Prime Minister, thanks to an interpreter who translated Bhelkashani into English. "And trust is the first step on any road to peace!"

That is why a large gathering of world leaders was happening in the United Nations in just a few days, to make the biological disarmament of Bhelkashan official. Mr. Amnatkeo would be signing a treaty with the United States. Senator Friedmont would be attending, along with Elaine, and hundreds more representatives from the United States alone, including President Hassard. It wasn’t until Elaine got to Senator Friedmont’s office that something dawned on her, something she wanted to talk to her boss about. God, I’m such a scatter-brain! she thought, frustrated. I hope he’s not too busy.

Politely knocking on the door as she slowly opened it, Elaine saw that Senator Friedmont was on the phone. She stopped, prepared to come back later, but the always-gregarious Senator waved her in. Hanging up the phone a few seconds later, he greeted his always efficient secretary, taking the flawlessly-organized itinerary sheets and scanning them with his eagle eyes.

Um, Senator Friedmont, Elaine said, nervously spinning a pen in between her fingers as she spoke. There was something else I wanted to talk to you about. It’s about the U.N. conference. It was at this point she started rambling, the events of the past few days relevant to this request zipping back and forth through her mind as she tried to speak. I was just wondering if I could bring my son along. His name is Keith. He’s ten. He was supposed to be with his dad this weekend, but y’know, Wally’s in the Army and they wanted him to be on security detail for the conference. Even though the Senator was reading his itinerary sheets and didn’t seem to be paying attention, Elaine continued to ramble, always looking down at the floor. Keith is really no trouble. He’s a very quiet boy and the hotel has wi-fi, so he’ll be watching movies or reading comic books on his tablet the whole time. Built-in babysitter. Ha. He won’t interfere with my work or anything else.

Not a problem, Elaine, the Senator answered. By all means, bring your son along. For a minute there, I thought you were going to tell me you couldn’t come.

Oh, no! God, no! Elaine replied, laughing at her own quick reply as she finally looked up from the floor. I realize how important this conference is to…well, everything.

Your ex-husband is a fellow serviceman, said the Senator, remembering his own time in the Army, where he knew Elaine’s ex-husband, Wally Crimson, only briefly before he was transferred to a different platoon. It’s the least I can do for the two of you and your boy!

***

Elaine’s bespectacled, spikey-haired, ten-year-old son Keith was in his room, sitting on his bed with his legs folded. He was watching news footage on his tablet of a farm in Nebraska that had been completely destroyed. The crops had been ravaged and even some of the tractors and other farming vehicles lay in ruins.

The woman who lives here says she heard a terrible buzzing noise that just kept getting louder and louder, the news reporter explained, standing in front of the one farm house on the property. Then, the news report played the staticy sound clip this woman had recorded with her archaic, reel-to-reel tape recorder.

It sounded like a bunch of insects to Keith. The sounds were just louder, which he attributed to distortions from the recording device. And Keith would know what kind of sounds insects make, because he collected them. He had many insects, representing many different species, in jars on his window sill. He had collected them from nature walks with his extremely health-conscious grandmother.

Looking at his bug collection and then peering out the window, Keith saw his mother’s station wagon pull into the driveway below. He was happy to see her and immediately ran downstairs, placing his tablet on his dresser on the way out.

Elaine’s mother, Joyce, was asleep on the couch in the jogging suit she had worn during her mid-afternoon jog. She was awoken when Elaine opened the door. Before Elaine could apologize for waking her mother, Keith slid down the banister from the upstairs. He landed on the living room floor in his bare socks, making a thump as he slid around to regain his balance.

Careful, Keith! the concerned mother cautioned as Keith slid over to her and gave her a hug. It was this sweet gesture by her only child that prompted Elaine to tell him the good news now instead of waiting until dinner like she planned. Keith, Elaine said once she got down on one knee to achieve eye level with her son. Remember when daddy called and said he couldn’t take you to that Red Sox game because he had to work? Keith nodded ‘yes’. Well, mommy talked to her boss and he said you could come with me to New York if you wanted to. That’s where your daddy is going to be stationed for the peace conference, so you guys might be able to hang out a little bit if he can get time off. Or at least we can have some fun in the big city.

Keith’s eyes got wider and wider after his mother said New York City. He lived in rural New Hampshire and had only seen buildings that big on television and in movies. The prospect of going to the big city was very exciting to the curious mind of young Keith. You mean I get to go to the big city? he asked excitedly. Is New York bigger than Manchester?

Yeah, a lot bigger than Manchester, Elaine said, smirking a bit, because she and her mother always referred to Manchester as the big city ironically. It was the biggest city within an hour drive of where they lived in the tree-cluttered boondocks of Milton. But it was still another small dilapidated New England mill town like where Jeremy was, three hours away in Woonsocket, Rhode Island. Are you excited? Elaine asked.

Not normally one to express too much emotion, this was actually the most excited Elaine had ever seen Keith. He had a big smile on his face as he told his mother that he was going to run upstairs and get his sleep-over bag. It was already packed from when Keith thought he was going to visit his dad. Keith soon disappeared behind the door of his bedroom. With her arms folded and with a skeptical tone in her voice, Joyce asked, Do you really think Wally got reassigned? Or is this another one of his mind games?

Divorce is a beautiful thing, Mom, Elaine told her mother sarcastically, annoyed her mother would bring up her ex-husband when she was trying to forget about all the painful memories surrounding their break-up. It frees me from giving a crap about who or what Wally does in his free time. As long as he doesn’t hurt Keith, I don’t care.

***

This has to be the loudest hillbilly redneck bar I have ever been in, thought an inebriated Wally Crimson as he stared at his own reflection in the beer bottles he had emptied himself. And I’ve been to the swamps of Mississippi. The music wasn’t really that loud, but Wally had just had more than his fair share of alcohol. Wearing his military fatigues, which included camouflage pants and a matching jacket, Wally glared over at the group of country line dancers whose cowboy hats moved in perfect unison to the beat of the live music being played. Bunch of hicks, he thought. Been playing the same damn song for…

Wally’s view of the dance floor and his thoughts were both interrupted by the sight of some intentionally exposed cleavage, popping out of a red button-down shirt. Bleached blonde hair dangled on either side of the twin peaks as Wally forced his head upwards. Soon, he made eye contact with a smiling, thirty-something woman with overdone smoky eye make-up and a white cowboy hat on her head.

Howdy, soldier, she purred with a glossy pout.

Howdy, cow girl, Wally replied, turning to look at the woman. What brings you to this neck of the flask?

Are you in New York for the peace conference? she asked, sitting down on the bar stool next to Wally. She could tell Wally was drunk. She could tell he was slurring his words and that he couldn’t decide whether he should be making eye contact with her or staring at the open portion of her shirt, trying to figure out if they were fake or not.

Yup, Wally replied, doing a cowboy-esque accent that made this woman picture him with a straw hat and a piece of hay coming out of his mouth. They want all of us standing at attention for this thing. Before the flirtatious cow girl could respond, Wally turned around quickly and shouted Barkeep! Another drink for Miss Polly Darton!

The woman laughed. I thought it was Dolly Parton.

Realizing he had mixed up the D and the P in the famous country singer’s name because of a character on Sesame Street he remembered watching with his son years ago, Wally slurred, And I thought this was Sesame Street! The woman laughed with an excited screech as the bartender brought her another drink.

So, where are you from? the woman asked before her first sip of a strong drink called ‘whiskey away’.

Everywhere I guess, Wally replied. I’m from New Hampshire originally. But the Army ships me around a lot of different places, just like in those stupid TV commercials. Sometimes it’s hard, not knowing where you’ll end up, but I do get to wake up in some pretty awesome spots.

Really, like where?

Well, my favorite, hands down, was Madrid, Spain, Wally told her, leaning into the counter with his elbow as he held his beer bottle in a confident manner. I love the mountains and all the little towns you can see from the peaks. Wally’s eyes slowly drifted downward once again as he said the word ‘peaks’. Very beautiful. The Army base I’m staying in now is kind of a letdown after that. I can see Times Square, though, so I guess that’s something.

Leaning over and making a nice firm grip on Wally’s thigh, the woman told him, I’ve never woken up on an Army base at all.

Well, they only give us a little cot to sleep in,

I think we can manage, the woman said as she slid her barstool a little closer, grabbed Wally’s shirt and planted a kiss on his lips. Wally would then realize how low his standards had dropped, thanks to the high level of alcohol in his blood. Her kiss tasted like he was drinking a whole pile of cigarette butts floating in subway bathroom toilet water. This would normally be a turn off for him, if he was sober. But he wasn’t. I would invite you over to my place, the woman continued. But my babysitter’s kinda religious, so…her self-righteous glares might be a little awkward. She saw the way I’m dressed, so she thinks I’m going to hell anyway.

You have children?

Yup. A daughter and a son. 6 and 4.

My son is ten. I was supposed to take him to a baseball game this weekend, but the Army whisked me away on another mission. He’s with my ex-wife now.

You're a lucky man. You have the Army and your ex-wife to cover for you when you need to get away from your kid and just remind yourself that you're single. I have to pay some judgmental teenager to watch my brats. She actually charges overtime just to sleep at my house overnight. The woman scoffed. Entrepreneur, my butt!

The alcohol had dulled Wally’s senses, slurred his speech and what remained of his moral standards. But despite it all, knowing this woman had left her children with a babysitter to go out and flirt with random men until one of them took her home was repugnant to him. Yes, I’m doing the same thing. But Keith isn’t with me now. He’s with Elaine. She takes better care of him anyway, Wally thought to himself when he started feeling like a hypocrite. I always do things with my son when he is living with me, unless work gets in the way. Even Elaine will testify to that.

Probably just saving for a car, Wally said to his blonde admirer as he started stepping away from her, leaving the beer bottles he emptied behind on the bar. The woman seemed confused that Wally was backing away from her. Hey, listen, I’m gonna go over there and find someone a little younger to flirt with. Preferably someone who doesn’t have kids.

The woman’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what she was saying. Excuse me? she shouted, her painted eyebrows spiking downward. She folded her arms, highly offended as Wally continued to speak.

I might be a little drunk right now, but you sound like you have some kids at home who might need some tucking in. The woman did not truly hear what Wally was saying. She was selfish. The words Wally spoke were a rejection of her as a person and nothing more. They were not the solid parenting advice Wally intended them to be.

I might be a flirt, Wally continued, walking backwards away from her before he stumbled over a bar stool. I know I'm a flirt, but my son's not living with me right now…so, I'm not dumping him on anyone else just to get my swerve on. Wally took a deep breath as his voice cracked. His voice was now resonating with emotion. And honestly, the only reason I’m drinking right now is because I miss the kid like crazy. Wally backed up some more and tripped over another chair before deciding to walk forward. "You need to get your priorities straight, sister. Take