Coming Clean

Sitting in the departure lounge of Vancouver international Airport, Samantha Haynes let out a long slow breath. Even though she had extracted a promise of non-interference from Stan, she knew he would find some crafty way to navigate around his pledge. A small smile touched her lips. His dogged determination and clever ingenuity were among those endearing qualities she loved most about him.

Taking out her phone, she glanced at the blackened screen. She was not looking forward to the conversation she knew they must have. When the phone suddenly jumped to life in her hand, she nearly dropped it. The display indicated it was Stan calling.

Swiping the green arrow, she put the phone to her ear.

“Hey honeybun,” Stan greeted, his tone overly friendly. She knew he was up to something.

“My big strong man,” she replied. “You’re lucky you caught me when you did, the plane will be boarding soon. What are you up to?”

“Nothing much, just sort of playing with some concentrated toluene,” he replied.

“Toluene? Should I even ask?” she questioned, not masking the resignation in her tone.

Chuckling, “I’m just sitting with my new friend, a young man named Kent McCready, and we were trying to figure out a way to get three of these practically indestructible Omega Pi wristband party favors off his wrist,” he explained.

Sam felt her stomach drop, “Oh?”

“Weirdest thing, I mean they look like rubber, feel like rubber and all, but for some bizarre reason we just couldn’t get them off. Couldn’t stretch them out, couldn’t cut them, we even tried to burn one off. No joy until toluene,” Stan shared.

“What?” she asked.

“Toluene, noxious shit that it is, for whatever reason softened them up enough we could get them off Kent’s wrist,” he explained.

Sam knew the boy’s name, aware his harvesting was only a few hours away. Cradling the phone close to her face, “Stan, what are you doing?” she asked in a whispered tone.

Stan paused before responding. “What do you mean? I’m trying to find our son and for some stupid reason you’re treating me like a goddamn mushroom, in the dark and covered in horseshit.”

Closing her eyes, Sam let out a breath. “I don’t want to have this conversation right now, over the phone, please,” she petitioned.

“Either you talk to me right now or I phone up Carol and tell her to tell that grey haired witch that I have tonight’s prize pony and they can go fuck themselves,” he growled into the phone.

“Stan, no,” she blurted, panic in her voice.

“You know I will,” he warned.

“You can’t honey, you don’t understand,” she countered.

“Then help me understand for Christ’s sake!” he barked.

Sam could feel her eyes beginning to well up, “Please, okay, I love you, I’ll tell you, but I don’t think you’re going to believe me,” she replied, voice cracking and threatening to break with emotion.

“With some of the shit I’ve been through today, the line between what I will and won’t believe is getting pretty blurry so hit me,” he encouraged.

“I don’t know where to start,” she replied.

“The beginning or maybe like where our son is?”

“Alright, alright,” she conceded. “The last I heard Oliver is still at the Omega Pi house, with Sersei Crawford.”

“I knew it! I knew he was there! Those lying tramps,” Stan crowed.

“It’s not quite so cut and dried, he’s been, I don’t know how best to describe it, changed,” Sam relayed.

“Changed? What do you mean?” Stan asked.

“The sisters there, well, there is a process or ritual the sorority has been using for over a hundred years that transfer energy,” she revealed.

“What the hell are you talking about and how is Oliver tied into this?” Stan challenged.

Nervous chuckle masking her anxiety, “The sisters took his energy, converted it from matter and through the process, he’s been altered, physically,” she continued.

“Altered how and why him?”

“The sisters usually only harvest of their own progeny,” Sam reluctantly revealed.

“So, what, because Oliver is your kid, I don’t follow,” Stan confessed.

“Yes, because I belong to the sorority, that’s why he was taken,” she admitted.

“Taken, okay, so what is it they did to him. How was he altered?”

“They made him small,” she responded.

“Small? Like, what do you mean?”

“The size of your index finger,” she answered.

“What?”

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe it,” she sighed.

“That’s not even possible, that’s crazy, like, shit,” he paused. “If for a moment I accept what you’re telling me and this kind of thing could happen, you knew,” he accused. “That night you got juiced up and all maudlin, you knew,” there was an underlying current of anger in his voice.

“Yes,” she admitted, unable to contain the sob. When there was no reply from the phone, “Stan?”

“I don’t, why, why would you do that? Oliver is an awesome kid! I would fucking die for that boy!” he snarled no longer masking the rage he felt.

“I love him too, but this thing, it is so much bigger than you know, generations. I would never, please listen, there is so much at stake right now. There are people as we speak trying to get to him to help him to save him. You have to believe me,” she cried.

“Believe you? How can I possibly believe you? Why you would even put him in danger that way in the first place? It doesn’t make any sense,” he countered angrily.

“It is bigger than one boy, Stan, please, there are many boys in the same danger as Oliver and I’m doing what I can to save as many of them as I can. If I didn’t send Oliver, I would have jeopardized all those other boys,” she defended.

“I don’t give a goddamn about those other boys, Oliver is my son!” he snapped, and then his voice softened, “he’s my son.”

“We are going to get him back Stan and in such a way they won’t ever be looking for him,” she assured.

Stan chuckled softly, “I know what I have to do,” he replied.

An announcement came over the public address system calling for advanced boarding to Sam’s flight.

“I’ll be there in a few hours, please just wait, please, there’s still more you need to know and I’ll explain everything, I promise,” she avowed.

“More?” he asked. “That’s just wonderful. What more could there possibly be?”

“Your mother,” she said softly.

“What?”

Taking a deep breath, “I knew her, she was my best friend and she was one of us. She died trying to protect you, to hide you from this very same sisterhood. That’s why we couldn’t just run away with Oliver, why this had to unfold this way,” she explained.

Stan disconnected the call.