Jeremy the Germ

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(non-adult Thriller) Planetary Crime Fighter.
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Chapter One - What Really Happened to Jeremy at Home

Jeremy woke with a start. Looking about, his eyes focused on at the gently moving, heavy curtains. A steady breeze, invited by the open screened windows, carried the crisp autumn cool into his room. Thud. Jeremy tossed off the covers and, like a child, raced to look out each window for the origin of the sounds. He saw nothing unusual outside in the mid-morning sun but the windows of his guest house did not afford a view of the main house.

Slam-bang. Jeremy knew the sound of the backdoor to the main house slamming shut and it was always followed by his mother yelling that a slammed door was just not dignified. He waited but his mother's voice did not follow. Jeremy asked himself. Why did the door slam? Who was there? He hurriedly hitched up his pants and put on his sandals before leaving to investigate. In his mind Jeremy pictured the scavenger that he had been trying to catch. Maybe it's the raccoon.

"Willie boy, you sure picked a good one. Look at this shit. Let's get upstairs and make sure nobody's home." The first black man bounded up the steps fearless of meeting someone. At the top of the stairs he pushed open each bedroom door and quickly looked inside for anybody or anything he could pawn. In the master bedroom he removed the two pillow covers and threw one to his companion standing meekly in the hallway. "Hey Willie boy, get downstairs and fill her up."

Fearfully, the younger black man moved searched the downstairs rooms for saleable treasures. He disconnected the DVD player and bagged some gold plated tableware. As the seconds ticked by, his fear was soon replaced by disgust as he grasped an ancient pair of field glasses, obviously an heirloom and possessing some unknown value, proudly displayed on a sconce. A quick look produced new enthusiasm as Willie called to his partner, "Bones, you should see the books this guy has. Some look to be three hundred years old."

Who's here? Jeremy asked himself as he cautiously walked through the kitchen to see who was inside his parent's house. His heart reverberated in his chest.

"Books? We ain't after no books. Take one or two and forget it. Too heavy. Its shit we can sell..."

Jeremy watched the man in the living room toss mother's best silverware into a pillowcase. He is stealing. I wish I had a gun. I'd shoot him. Jeremy stood in the doorway and tried to force his brain to think of how to subdue this criminal without a pistol or light saber.

"Bones, I still feel bad about this; I went to school with one of their kids, until he got sick. Nice people."

"Yeah? Well, don't care. Got a good jewelry count. Flat screen here's mine." Then "Bones" Plowder paused. "Look here. Looks like one of 'em died in Afghanistan. Fool. What'd it get ya, pal?"

"Don't talk like that about the dead," said Willie who turned to face the stairwell but caught sight of Jeremy standing impassively, observing him. "Uh-oh. We've got trouble. Bones!"

Bones galloped down the stairs two at a time and stopped before Jeremy. Bones pulled his knife from his pocket and waived it menacingly before Jeremy's face. "Bones, no. This is Jeremy. He's retarded. Retarded. Leave him alone."

"What's your name boy? Tell me or I'll slice your throat." He waved the knife blade from side to side at Jeremy. Jeremy did not move for a good three seconds and then he shrugged his shoulders and flailed his arms, while babbling incoherently.

Bones took a step back and looked at Willie as he sheathed his knife. "Does he know you? Can the fool talk?"

"I don't think so. He got sick, I think it was fourth grade, and got like that. They took him outta school. Never saw him again."

"Good for him. Else I'd have to cut him up. There's an empty bedroom up there. I'll take him up. Look for a rope or clothes line or a thin extension cord." Bones apprehended Jeremy by the upper arm and marched him up the stairway to the unused bedroom, Jeremy's old bedroom. Jeremy uttered a muffled protest.

"Where's the safe? Tell me boy!" Jeremy's eye brows were pinched and his mouth hung open, frozen in confusion. "Hey! I ain't fooling here. Where's the damned safe?" Jeremy just stared into space. Bones punched Jeremy in the stomach so hard he doubled over. Jeremy babbled incoherently as tears rained down his cheeks. His crying did not sound like crying. Bones squeezed Jeremy's hand hard, as if a car rolled over his hand. Jeremy cried some more.

Willie returned with an extension cord. "Stop it, Bones. Can't you see he's retarded? He can't tell you nothin'." The older man just looked disgustingly at Willie. "Bones, I don't care the consequences; I can't be a part of this. I ain't never working with y'all again."

"Good. Go load the shit. You're useless anyway."

Chapter Two - What Happened to Perry

"Hi Dad. Good to see you." The two men weakly embraced.

"I know you Perry. Something's really troubling you when you come to see me like this. Is it the sergeant's promotion?"

"Yes and no. It's connected with the Schweitzer case."

"Schweitzer? I read about that in the papers. Any relation to Albert Schweitzer? Ah, who cares? I read you were on it but I also knew you could handle it. Grab a couple of beers in the refridge and come out on the porch. Then, let's hear it."

Perry unscrewed the long necks and sat down. "I have a great chance of making officer of the year again and this time there's another sergeant's opening. My case closing percentage is 64%. Sheldon Lutz is behind me with 62%. Last opening, Ruffman made sergeant with only 58% closed."

"Sounds like the promotion's yours, unless another cop runs in front of a speeding freight train to scoop up a child between now and the end of the year, that is. When I made sergeant there was none of this crap. You just put in your time and took the promotions as they came. Anyway, what's bothering you?"

"Dad, you said something which I'll always remember, 'When you know in your gut whose guilty and innocent, then you're a real cop. Then you can be a sergeant.' That's where it breaks down for me."

"Just tell me the story, Perry."

"I was sitting in my cruiser parked on someone's gravel driveway behind some ratty trees near the end of my shift. If someone ran that traffic light in the next twenty minutes, I'd pull 'em over. After that, I wouldn't see nothing so I could leave on time."

"Nothing wrong so far, son. Keep going."

"Being in my zone I was the first responder after the call. Dr. Michael Schweitzer met me at the door. On the couch, clinging to his mother was 22 year old Jeremy Schweitzer. The boy was babbling incoherently and jerking kind of funny. This was nothing like the O.D.'s I'd ever seen. He acted like a child. I asked, 'Dr. Schweitzer, what happened to your son?' They informed me she was also Dr. Schweitzer. One was a psychologist and one a psychiatrist, whatever the difference is. Snobbish people. Anyway, his mother, Sonia said, 'Obviously, someone frightened our son Jeremy.' Like I said, snobs.

"I said, 'I have to ask, what's wrong with Jeremy?' Michael Schweitzer answered, 'Our son Jeremy was a normal boy but at age ten he came down with a fever and emerged like this. Something happened. It appears like autism but we never got a definitive diagnosis and we have not found a successful treatment.'

"I said I was sorry to hear that and asked if they wanted the paramedics. They said no. I asked if he could talk or describe what happened. She said maybe after he calms down that sometimes he writes a word or two on paper. Jeremy kept staring at me, kind of creepy like. I asked Michael Schweitzer to show me what was taken and he took me around the first floor. They took everything they could pawn.

"When we returned to the living room Jeremy was standing with his mother who was holding a note. Jeremy lunged at me as if he had a knife. My heart was in my mouth because I was definitely not ready for this. I reached to draw but I saw he had nothing in his hand. The mother thought he must have been threatened by someone with a knife.

"He stood babbling incoherently before me. She handed me the note. It read 'GUN - SHOOT THEM'. I stepped back and asked her if she thought he wanted me to shoot someone. She said more like Jeremy wanted to shoot someone. His brother had always been the pacifist. He dropped out of college and became a Navy corpsman. He was killed in Afghanistan. Jeremy always wanted to be the hero. She explained that Jeremy lived outside in the guest house where he spent his days watching western, war movies, and space adventures."

"Its a tragedy to have a child like that but another tragedy to have one killed," answered Perry's dad. "Get us another beer, how about it? Don't know which would be worse."

Perry continued as he fetched another round. "I asked if there was any way to communicate directly with Jeremy but they both said no. Well, I inspected upstairs and of course, they did not have any serial numbers or photos. Outside, I noticed truck tires at the back door but you know where this is going?"

"Yes, I do," replied Perry's dad. "No where. The last thing I read was a burglar does on average 29 before he's caught. They're hard to catch. Takes time. Persistence. That would make it really bad for your closed case percentage. I can see why you'd be pissed with this call."

"This case put Sheldon Lutz ahead of me. Yah, I was pissed. I was also pissed that Jeremy, a boy in a helpless man's body, had met some real life criminals. Dad, I had no idea how much worse his life and my life would become."

Chapter Three - What Really Happened to Jeremy at the Park: Part One

Two months later, the open windows of Jeremy's guest house let the overnight noise from the park waft inside with the cool air of late autumn. Jeremy watched an old, classic, black and white cowboy film as if for the first time. He did not notice that the night sounds had stopped and had been replaced by a new sound. The sound of rushing air, such as like the exhaust of a vacuum cleaner, was as quiet as a whisper at first, but then became louder, as if someone was knocking on the door. Jeremy was startled by the faint sweep of a blue light across the television. Next, a faint red beam and green beam swept the television face and the disheveled bookcase of dusty and unread elementary school books and DVD's tossed around carelessly.

What is that light? Jeremy asked himself. Maybe it's the police catching those burglars in the park. Thoughts buzzed in Jeremy's brain.

Jeremy got up and put on his jeans and sandals. I've got to see this. I'll hide this time so I'll be safe.

The late fall Virginia weather had briefly warmed in recent days. Behind the Schweitzer's mini-estate was a large town park, large enough for a full sized golf course. Between the park and houses ringing the park was a narrow swath of natural flora and fauna to appease the ecologically responsible.

Looking through the open window Jeremy observed the colored lights had changed from searching beams to diffused lights, such as the running lamps on a car. The breeze-tossed boughs of the trees at the border of the Schweitzer estate partially concealed the meadow of the town park just beyond and the light's source.

Ready to investigate, Jeremy opened his door. A cylinder, about twice the size of Jeremy's head, displaying a dull white light, like a neon lamp on a bright day, floated towards Jeremy. It corrected its height above ground to match Jeremy's head height. It stopped moving and remained stationery about three feet before Jeremy. Jeremy impulsively reached out to touch it but the hovering object moved backwards, just as quickly. A steady sound, as like the rush of air from the exhaust of a vacuum cleaner, was the only hint of motivation.

Jeremy said, Hello. I'm Jeremy. His voice babbled gibberish.

A deep, kind voice responded in his mind. Hello Jeremy. My name is Parlow.

I can't see you.

I am in... We are in the meadow. I would like to meet you, Jeremy. Please follow my explorer. The cylinder of light gently moved toward the field in the direction of the lights. Jeremy followed and his pulse quickened over the three minute walk through the woods and to the emerging camp.

How is it that I can hear you in my mind, Parlow? Even my mother and father can't.

I don't know Jeremy but we could hear you as we were riding by. Were you watching a movie?

Yes, I was. This is great. I want to learn how you do it. Talk to others, that is.

Four small, gray, men-like creatures were setting up lawn chairs, a table, and a portable BBQ. The park was pitch black on this moonless night but lights came through the open door of a black craft, about the size of a commuter jet liner but thicker, parked nearby. The older male held a controller for the explorer, which he turned off when Jeremy arrived into camp.

The strong voice spoke in his mind. Welcome Jeremy. My name is Parlow. I am pleased to meet you. I can easily hear you think so you need not speak." Parlow offered his shriveled gray hand. You have very strong psychic powers. May I examine you? Without waiting for a response Parlow produced another controller out of his gray uniform pocket and directed a pink lighted explorer to come from inside the craft and hover beside Jeremy's head.

This is scary. Who are these people? Aliens? Jeremy asked himself.

Jeremy, we can hear you thinking to yourself. Don't be afraid. We are people just like you, just from another planet. We do not look like you but we are a lot like you. This is my family, my wife Nitkah, my son Trall, and my daughter Istasha. We mean you no harm, Jeremy. We work on this planet, just like your parents do.

The Medi-Explorer hovered next to Jeremy and aimed a focused pink beam, about the size of a Cub Scout flashlight, at Jeremy.

Will it hurt?

No Jeremy.' The explorer completed its examination in twenty seconds. You have a problem speaking what you are thinking.

Jeremy lowered his head in shame. Yes, I know. Tears welled up in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. Parlow directed the Medi-Explorer to return to the craft.

Another gray alien carried a platter of steaks to the table and turned to Jeremy. Hello Jeremy, I am Nitkah, Parlow's wife. We would be pleased if you would stay for dinner. Have you ever had buffalo steaks, Jeremy?

She turned to return to the craft. Jeremy answered, Yes. No. I mean, I've never had buffalo steaks before. Parlow tossed a plastic bottle of drinking water to Jeremy, who could not catch it.

As Jeremy bent over to pick up the bottle, Parlow said, Sorry Jeremy. I forgot you lost your coordination, too. Listen to me Jeremy, I have a proposition for you. If you are willing to help me for about ten minutes I would be willing to have the Medi-Explorer fix your brain. Are you interested in hearing me out?

Jeremy raised his head and smiled. Sure, what do I have to do? Mow your lawn or something?

No. Jeremy, I want you to be very certain that you will help me. First you will help me then I will have the Medi-Explorer repair your brain. Are you willing to do this very important job for me?

Yes. I hate this. I want to be normal again. I want to go back to school, to my fourth grade class again. I miss my teacher.

Listen to me carefully, Jeremy. I just need information. I am looking for a healthy boy and girl about your age. Do you know anyone in the neighborhood like that? They should live nearby and preferably they should not be good friends of yours.

That's easy. There's Timothy Pollack over there. Jeremy pointed in a direction past the meadow. And, then there's Wanda Winkler over there. I used to go to school with them before I had to stay home.

Trall? Parlow glanced at a gray man his size but younger and then returned his gaze to Jeremy. This is my son Trall. You will go with him and bring back Timothy and Wanda. I'd like to meet them. Then we can eat our steaks and fix that problem in your head. Okay?

Well, Parlow, I haven't seen them since fourth grade and they didn't like me very much. They used to call me names and try to beat me up.

I am sorry to hear that, Jeremy, but I can assure you that they will not harm you as long as I am here. They still may call you names but you are a strong boy. Names never hurt smart people. Agreed?

Yes sir. Jeremy's backbone stiffened.

Trall donned a rugged leather-like jacket with a cigar shaped object mounted on each shoulder and a helmet like a motorcycle driver would wear. From his utility belt he took a controller, another cigar shaped object, and pointed to the ground twice and two hovering solid black rectangles appeared. Thrall stepped up into one and sat in the middle. Get into yours, Jeremy, said Trall telepathically, and sit down. I can stand in these things but it is better to sit when you are not used to them.

What is this? asked Jeremy as he stepped aboard his small craft. A magic carpet? Jeremy looked about in amazement that he was floating above the ground. The subdued sound of rushing air was all he heard.

Chapter Four - What Really Happened to Jeremy at the Park: Part Two

Thrall directed the two hovering crafts to float out of the meadow of the town park and along the two lane paved, country road. Thrall answered telepathically, Magic Carpet is a good name for these crafts. You are really smart and well read. I want you to show me where the first house is.

The craft moved at fifteen miles per hour, much faster than Jeremy had ever ridden a bicycle. He screamed in exhilaration as his pulse raced.

Be quiet, Jeremy, said Trall telepathically, as he looked in all directions for danger. Remember, these people are sleeping and we do not want to wake them.

Jeremy gave directions and they docked their crafts along the side of the Wanda Winkler's house. Don't ever say a word inside. Just think it, admonished Trall. He pointed a cigar sized wand around the front door and then to the front door lock. The lock clicked open and Trall opened the front door and walked in with Jeremy following. The floating explorer with its dull white light followed the two through the house, as if it were a floating puppy.

The sensor inside the helmet directed Trall to two sleeping females in one bedroom. Trall quietly opened the door and walked in. Which one, Jeremy?

Wanda is the one on the right.

A housecat jumped up to the foot of Wanda's bed. Jeremy almost screamed as he took a step back. The cat meowed. Jeremy reached down and stroked the pet's head.

Trall aimed the shoulder gun at Wanda and fired a stun blast. Her body shook mildly with the blast and she remained in place asleep. Trall produced the controller which had formed the hovering craft and used it to raise Wanda out of her bed. She rose two feet above the bed and Trall pulled off the snagging bed sheet. Then Trall directed her out of the open bedroom door, as if on a floating and invisible gurney. Trall kept a careful eye on Wanda's sleeping sister but she did not stir.

With the hovering Wanda leading the way, the intruders stealthily departed and met at the side of the house. Trall made an adjustment to the controller and Wanda's invisible gurney turned into a hovering craft with solid plastic walls. Trall and Jeremy climbed aboard their hovering craft and they departed for Timothy's house.