Planet B

Ch.25

"And that was how he got that scar on his finger," Amelia said, prompting a laugh from Joel.

"Really William, you got that from getting a cat out of a tree?" Joel asked.

"What?" William protested, "It was the right thing to do."

"Maybe so," Joel said. "But it wasn't even the cat that got you. A twig gave you that scar."

William grumbled, not used to getting picked on. This was not how he'd expected his reunion with his mother to go.

"Let's see it," his mother said, reaching for his hand. She grabbed his left hand, not remembering it was his right pinky that had the scar, and raised it to see. When she saw the missing finger she gasped and let go of him.

"William! What happened to your finger."

Used to the missing digit, he looked at it casually.

"Oh, just a scuffle with some Crytons that didn't go as planned. I'm more careful now."

Luke chortled under his breath and he shot the man a cold stare.

"I thought they weren't able to touch you," she said.

"They aren't," William said. "But their swords still can. It wasn't even as bad as it seems. There may have even been a way to reattach it. But about that time we were talking with the military and they wanted to do tests on me to see how I did the things I did. So instead of going in and forever having a gimp finger, I gave them the finger for testing and stayed in the field."

Understanding flooded his mom's face.

"It was your finger..." she said softly. When William gave her a questioning look she went on. "Years ago they had us test tissue from a finger for abnormalities. They didn't say why." She shook her head slowly. "To think I was so close you, in a way."

William did his best to keep the conversation lighter. There'd be plenty of time for them to talk and reminisce about lost family and time in private. With everyone around he wanted to keep things less morose. His mom caught on to that quick enough and just kept telling stories of William and his father and sister that had everyone smiling.

"One time," Amelia said, "your father and I were pulled out of the university hallway by an adjunct professor who claimed he had something life threatening to attend to and shoved us into his lab. Turns out he was a minor league drug dealer and his superiors were after him. Anyway, flustered at the sudden instructional role he was thrust into, your father was doing his best to teach a group of freshmen about chemical reactions."

She began chuckling, the joke already known to her.

"They were reacting Alkali metals with water and as he was cutting off pieces one of the students took advantage of his flustered state and tricked him into thinking the potassium was sodium, and vice versa. The result was an exploding beaker and a dumfounded Peter. For the next few months we all called him Potassium Pete."

She finished her story barely able to keep her laugher in check. She looked around and saw no one else laughing. Her own mirth cut short and she frowned.

"I guess you had to be there," she said, wiping traces of tears from her eyes.

Before long they were in the middle suburbs, passing the looped 494/694 highway that surrounded the city. It'd been a long time since William has been there and the differences were stark. His memory showed him tall buildings and tree-lined, clean roadways. His memories of trips to Target Field and its rich red brick were strong. But instead of clean roadways he saw overgrown, well, everything. The highways, which they walked parallel to for navigation's sake while not wanting to be easily visible, were cracked with tall grass zigzagging down the length as if it were an impatient driver.