Freddy Anderson’s Home: Book 1 (5 page)

The big Gray ordered, “Hold there!”

Everything physical went black, but my senses were becoming stronger, and they were far more acute than normal physical abilities. I could sense everything and everyone, including the electronics attached to this tank.

The Green said, “Yes, master?”

“I am trying to understand these humans, and I am finding it difficult. Why would this woman be surprised that the boy knew that she was from his military? I know they are not color coded at birth, as we are, and she is not wearing a uniform, but she should have a mark, something that shows she is better than the others.”

“Master, most humans do not consider someone in the military as being any better than anyone else. Master, your mouth is hanging open. I do not see why you would be surprised. Even with our own race, only Gray thinks that Gray is better than everyone else.”

“We do not think that we are better than everyone else! Just most everyone else.”

“Still, master, it does seem that the humans feel that they are all equal in some ways. They are not born, marked, and trained as military. They volunteer to be military for a small portion of their lives.”

“Green, think a little harder! How can a military have given us so many problems when they cannot keep their people more than a few years? I am beginning to believe that you understand these humans wrong! Continue.”

Chapter 5
Dying to Make Friends

T
he next day, a Tuesday, I was up early and eager to go outside. My main plan called for obtaining as much nongovernmental help as possible, so finding out about the town was essential. I would use this day to prepare for meeting with the admiral, and that meant knowing what local resources I could count on. I had received a call from a general in the army who offered a lot of help if I would let him use some of my land, but that went against having no government influence. Still, I would keep it in mind in case it was needed.

Mrs. Crain had a wonderful breakfast ready for me, and I ate alone, as her children were already up and doing their chores. They wanted to play on this first day of spring break and that meant getting chores done first.

I thanked her and headed out to see the town. As soon as I left, I could feel her start to worry.

I headed down the main street, which followed the beach in a half circle. There were a few side streets, and in the center was the exit from town. All the stores were on either the main street or the road heading out. The walkway was made of wooden planks, and there were lanterns every twenty feet on poles that held up an overhang, which kept the snow and rain off the walkway. The overhang was slanted, and there was still snow on the top in some places. Signs written in old script spelled out the types of stores—Susie’s Old World Fashions, Taproot Tavern, Pale Lady’s Guns and Ammo, and Tinker John’s Repair.

The first place I stopped was the sporting goods store. The sign read, “The Lazy Fisherman.” I needed equipment to camp and hike around my area. A guide would be nice too, someone who knew how to hike and camp, as I didn’t. I walked into the tiny store and was astonished at the amount of stuff that was amassed inside. The aisles were only two feet wide, and every square inch of space was being used. I looked around for a while, realizing that I could spend a week in here and not see everything or find what I needed. Two people stood by the counter, talking, and a third person was behind it. They watched me as they talked. The man standing behind the counter was wearing a red plaid shirt and faded jeans. He finally came around and asked me if I needed anything. He was big and burly, with a mustache and beard that hung a good six inches below his mouth. His face was somewhat puffy, and he had shoulders as wide as the aisles. He had to turn sideways in one place to get to me.

In a deep voice, he said, “Hello, young man. I’m Mr. Thompson, and this is my store. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Hello, Mr. Thompson. It’s nice to meet you. This is a very nice store. It certainly has a lot of equipment. I’ll bet you have everything anyone would want for fishing and camping.”

He smiled and bragged, “You betcha! And if I don’t have it, I can get it quickly.”

One of the men at the counter cleared his throat very loudly. Something was definitely up, and I knew I had to be on my guard.

I put my hand out to shake his and said, “My name is Freddy.”

His hand did not meet mine. I could feel his sadness and reluctance to do something. I slowly pulled my hand back and said, “Sir, I would like to purchase some equipment to go hiking and camping south of here. I am also looking for a guide to help me explore that same area. I would like to start with a good, lightweight backpack. What would you suggest?”

Thompson was definitely upset that he had to do something and sent a mean look toward the man at the counter. Turning back to me, he said, “Look, Dr. Anderson, I can’t help you. You’re too young to be allowed to purchase items for camping. I can’t help you with a guide either. Please leave.”

I looked at him in astonishment. He knew my title and last name and was not going to help me. This was definitely a setback. I looked over at the man at the counter. He was not happy about doing this either, but I could feel his sad determination. I touched his mind and was shocked to find that he had orders not to let anyone help me. I smiled and walked toward him. I looked up at him and asked, “Are you responsible for this?”

He said nothing, but he felt sick at what he was doing. I left the store and sat down on a bench outside to think for a minute
. These two were not pulling the strings. They were definitely just following orders. I wonder how far these orders ex
tend.

Getting up, I went to the next store. It was a gas station/convenience store combination. A man came out as soon as I entered. His short, skinny frame had a mean face and shifty eyes. He was clean-shaven and had a look of extreme superiority. In a high-pitched and irritating voice, he said, “I’m sorry, but I have nothing here that I can sell you except candy, little boy.” This man was not so friendly, and the feeling I got was one of pure irritation.
Interestingly, this man actually seems glad that I came by, just so he can kick me out.
I wondered if these people had any idea of the lawsuit I could bring against them. I talked myself into calming down, as I was almost ready to call my lawyers when I left his store. The last thing I wanted was to make things worse by coming in here with money and threatening people.
Darn! I need to get these people on my
side.

I passed some stores that were not yet open and others that closed their doors as I walked by. This “shun the little kid” plan was well made, and it was working. I touched some minds and realized that the plan was to make me leave. They were rid of the army, and now they wanted to get rid of me. “Bad mistake!”

About midday, after being turned down by half the town, I stopped in at a place called Betty’s Diner. I was so mad that I was in tears by this time. The diner was an L-shaped design, with five tables—three by the windows, two toward the back—and some chairs at the counter. Everything was in dark wood, except for the red-and-white-checkered tablecloths and the lamps over each table in the shape of large red-and-white-checkered bells. I took a table in the back, as much out of the view of the public as possible, where I could calm down in private. I could feel the concern, and I knew their hearts were reaching out to me, even though their words and actions were cold and almost violent. I used some techniques I had learned from Daddy to relax my mind and think. By the time the waitress came up to me, I was beginning to form a plan. I kept up the quiet crying. I may be very intelligent, but I’m still just a kid, and I can’t control my emotions very well, and right then, I was highly frustrated.

She asked with concern, “Are you all right?” Her nametag read “Nancy,” and she had to be about sixteen or seventeen. She was very pretty. She had blonde hair and even though it was pulled up in back, it still came down to just below her shoulders. She was dressed in a white cotton dress with a pastel pink apron. She knew I was crying because I was mentally hurt and that caused her to be considerate. How interesting. I could play on that. I use to play the cry game with Nanny to get my way, and I always won.

With my head downcast and in my most humble, quiet voice, I said, “Yes, ma’am.” I could feel her heart nearly break right there. If only everyone was as nice as she was, then maybe I could turn this around.

She asked, “May I get you something?”

“Could I please have a glass of milk?”

“Sure, but don’t you want something to eat too?”

“I don’t feel much like eating right now.” I could feel her become extremely angry, but it wasn’t at me.

“I’ll get you some milk, sweetheart.”

Nancy walked back behind the counter and through to the kitchen. I took the time she was gone to devise a plan. I could hear an argument in the back and opened my mind to watch and listen. I could hear some voices, at first muted, but as I concentrated, they became crystal clear. The man from the gas station said, “Look, Nancy. I know how hard this is, but everyone must comply, or the plan won’t work. The council voted on it, and even though you don’t like it, you’re going to do as you’re told!”

Nancy said, “I’m taking that little boy an ice-cold glass of the freshest milk we have, and don’t you try to stop me.”

She turned away, and the man put out a hand to restrain her but suddenly backed up quickly when Betty, Nancy’s mother, pressed a very big knife to his throat, saying, “Don’t you ever come into my diner and tell us what to do—and no one touches my daughter.
Got that, Mr. Mayor?
Nancy, use the tallest glass we have, and tell him it’s on the house.”

Nancy smiled. “Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem, and as for you, Mayor, get out
now
!”

The man left.

So that was it—the town council had voted to make me leave. My plan would change that. For maximum effect, though, I needed to play this completely out, and that was going to be very difficult. I used my healing ability to force my tear ducts into action. I was too darn old to play the crybaby and really disliked doing so. Still, mathematically speaking, this seemed the best percentage of being successful.

Nancy returned with the milk. “Here ya go, kid. Mom says it’s on the house.”

I turned a red-eyed, teary face up to her and said, “Thank you. That’s very nice of you. Please tell your mommy thanks too. I hope you didn’t get in trouble because of me.”

She started to reach out to me but thought better of it. “No problem, kid.”

She left, and I sipped my milk for a little while. I left, pretending to feel much better, and I waved good-bye as I boldly walked out. I noticed a tall woman with short blonde hair. She was watching me from a park across the street. I waved, and she waved back.
Change of watch?
I thought.

I had gone only a short distance when I sensed some people in an alley, thinking about me. I reached out and was mentally surprised. The mayor had hired them to rough me up a little—not really harm me but bloody my nose and kick me around a bit to scare me as much as possible. I stopped and looked across the street, taking my time to think about this new option. I could easily take all four of them, even though they were bigger and stronger. When I was younger, and the bullies would pick on me, I would simply use my telekinetic ability to hold them in place. I hit one once, kicked him right in the privates, and my extreme empathy caused me to buckle over in pain; I wouldn’t do that again, but I could hold all of them. It would take a lot of energy, and I would be nearly helpless afterward, but I could stop this before it started. No, that would be a mistake, as it would quickly get around town. Everyone would be afraid of me. I had seen enough TV to know what people think when something happens that they cannot explain. I wondered if these people would stone me to death because they thought I was a warlock or something equally as stupid.

Okay, so fighting back with my mind was not an option. I could make sure that my navy babysitter across the street knew what was going to happen, and she could stop them, but then I would be in the admiral’s debt—not a good idea and completely contrary to my plan. I could avoid them all day, but that would also show that I had abilities. I could take a beating from these guys. They weren’t really going to harm me too badly, and I could heal myself later. Being small and intelligent, I’m used to taking beatings from the bigger kids. Besides, I could cut down the pain by temporarily shutting down the senses that go to that part of my brain. I learned that trick while teaching myself to heal others. If I did this, they could beat on me, and I could fight back and make a good show of it. I would lose, of course, but that would work right into my plan by increasing the sympathy of the townspeople. I was afraid; who wouldn’t be? Deciding to take a beating is not an easy thing to do, but I walked toward the alley and the next store.

As I drew even with the alley, a big hand reached out and pulled me in. They started in right away. I fought back and did fairly well, considering they were much bigger. They said things like, “Sissy! Little boy likes to wear earrings,” and “We don’t want you here. Get out now!” They really showed a total lack of imagination; I was somewhat disappointed. I was kicked in the head at one point, but I rolled with it. The biggest guy said, “Not in the head, stupid. You want to
 
…” Then he looked at me and changed it from “kill him” to “hurt your foot or something?” The last thing he wanted was for me to know this was a setup.

When they were finished and took off, I was on the ground, bleeding from my nose, and I had a cut to my face just above my right eye. Someone had stepped on my hand, and I had a gash in my knee, because I had fallen on a piece of glass during the struggle. I was hurting from a couple dozen hits that were sure to bruise up nicely. Not good enough, though. I needed a shocker. I used my abilities to open small vessels in my right eye and deep in my right ear and make that cut above my eye bleed like a river. Head wounds always bleed excessively. My knee was already bleeding badly, so I left it alone.

I slowly stood up and limped back out to the sidewalk. My babysitter saw me and quickly got up and started my way, but I motioned for her to stay back. She was good and did as requested, but I could see she wasn’t happy. I started back toward the inn. Everyone who saw me wanted badly to help me, but I said, “Please leave me alone.” I must have said that a hundred times before I reached the inn. When I got there, I walked out to the beach and sat down in the saltwater that was about six inches deep. Tears were mingled with the blood, and I know I left a bloody trail all the way to the water. Becky saw me heading to the water, bleeding, with people following me at a distance. I could hear her scream, but I was concentrating on what was going on with everyone else. Mrs. Crain and Carroll were out of the inn in less than a second. They were covered with flour from baking, but as soon as she saw the blood, Mrs. Crain told Carroll to run and get the doctor.

Mrs. Crain ran to me, paying no attention to the water, and nearly fainted when she got a good look at my face. By this time, the bleeding had covered half of my right side and soaked most of my shirt and pants. It was only about a quarter cup, but spread that much red paint on a ten-year-old kid, and you can cover him completely. I must have looked like I was bleeding to death. As soon as she got there, I turned the sensors up enough to be in a lot of pain so that I would cry properly. Man, that hurt! I forgot about saltwater getting in the cuts. Ouch!