BRIGHT (Larry Stylinson AU)

Chapter 2

Louis~

PARANOIA ALERT! I told myself.

Standing on my doorstep were two hulking, none-too-happy-looking Portland PD uniforms. Their radios were squawking loudly beside their holstered 9 millimeter handguns.

"Hey, champ," the older-looking of the two said. "Parents home?" Interesting question. And a real conversation stopper given my history.

"Uh," I said. "Yeah. I mean, of course.... but they're.... pretty busy right now. Maybe I could help you? Or you could come back later?"

"Later?" He said. "That's not exactly going to work with our busy schedule. See, we're from the Runaway Juvenile Unit. One of your neighbors called us. Said she sees you coming in and out at all times of the day and night, and no signs of your parents anywhere. So if they're too busy to come out and talk to the police, you can come with us. We'll straighten this out at the precinct house. That be okay? You following me so far?"

I'd dealt with the runaway units of several police departments in my travels over the previous couple of year. They were usually pretty cool people who were, for the most part, trying to help troubled kids. For the most part, but not right now.

I guess I could have told these two the thruth. That I wasn't a runaway but an Alien Hunter in town to take care of an important extermination. But I don't know. They didn't look ready to hear about the timely end of Orkng Jllfgna down in Portland's sewers.

"Okay kid. Time's up now. Let's get moving," the older guy said. "Charade's over."

Charade, I thought, nodding. What a good idea.

Now pay attention, because this is important, and also way out of the ordinary. I suspect you've never seen, or heard about, or read anything like this before.

The older patrolman was fingering the cuffs hanging off his Sam Browne belt when a loud clatter of pots and pans came from the kitchen.

The game was on! Here goes...

"Lou, who's there?" A woman's voice called. "I'll be out in a minute, after I flip these pancakes. Louis? I'm talking to you!"

The look of surprise on the cop's face was priceless, actually, almost worth the stress of the moment.

"Want to join us for a late breakfats, gentlemen? Pancakes?" I said, with a "you know how moms are" look.

A door opened down the hall and a groggy-looking in his forties stepped out wearing a ratty bathrobe, baggy pajama bottoms, flip-flops, and a Portland Trail Blazers Tshirt.

"Hey, what's all the noise?" He said. "Hey guys, what's up? Awful early for visitors."

"Officer Wirtschafter, Portland PD," the older cop.

"Hey, Dad," I said. "Sorry to wake you. The police think —I'm a runaway ?"

"A runaway?" My dad yawned and grabbed the edge of the door. "Well, I guess not. I'm Louis's dad. Simon Cowell."

"Okay, Mr. Cowell, but I'm afraid there's another problem," Officer Wirtschafter said sourly. "Portland has a truancy reduction ordinance. All kids between seven to eighteen are required to attend school. It's nine-thirty now. Your son obviously isn't in school."

"Maybe he has the German measles," my dad said. "What kind of school does he have to attend?"

The cops exchanged a "we got a live one" look. Actually, quite the opposite was true.

"That would be, uh, high school," the older gentelman answered.

"High School, sure. Well, that would be a real waste of time," my dad said and began to laugh. I laughed along with him as he put his arm around my shoulder.

My mom came in then, wiping her hands on her apron. My mom is not so blond and tall and, If I do say so myself, quite the looker. In a very dignified, mom sort of way.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, officer. My husband is a jokester sometimes. And slow to get to the point. Louis doesn't need to go to school anymore."

"Ma'am, everybody needs to go to school," the cop said.

My mom continued. "Louis went to high school— when he was nine. He has an IQ, oh, somewhere in the 190's. He graduated from MIT last year. Our Lou-bear has a degree in molecular engineering. We're very proud of him."

"Is that so?" The cop said, dubious. "In that case, if you would just go and get his diploma. College or high school would be fine."

"No problem," my dad said, crossing his arms as he stood in front of me. "Right after we see yours. That sound fair to you?"

"You're a funny guy," the cop said. "You should be on Comedy Central. But I'm not joking about the diploma."

"You'll see his diploma when we see a warrant." My mother said with a winky smile. "Now you and Silent Bob there can leave. Wouldn't want to catch the measles."

"It'll actually be fun hauling you, your wife, and your 'genius' son in when we come back with the warrant." The cop snarled.

He and his partner turned around and left in a huffy hurry.

"I don't think he was kidding," my dad said to me as we stood in the doorway and watched the Portland PD car squeal away from our building.

"I know, Dad. I'll be out of here before they get to the end of our street. I'm going after Number 5 next. Ergent Ed."

My mom winced. "Oh Lou, are you sure about that? Number 5 might be way too much, way too soon."

I stared at her sadly. She looked real pretty in her apron. There was even a dab of pancake batter on her cheek. "Trust me, I've studied The List carefully, Mom. He's the next one. Ergent Ed has to go. Now. He's on a terrible rampage in California."

Then I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and when I opened my eyes again, my mom and dad were gone.

They were gone because I was the one who created them in the first place. I fashioned them inyo existence out of my memory— just to run interference with the cops. Like I said, a charade. And a pretty good one too.

Now you know a little more about me.
Freaky, huh?
You have no idea.