Once More Into the Abyss Read Free

safe haven. We both love animals like crazy and always have; so did Mom and Dad. One of the strongest indicators of alien identity is intense interspecies empathic bonding. Ollie has a thing for big dogs, usually two or three at a time. I prefer a dog and a cat. I’ve let it go so long now grieving over my last cat that getting one now that I’ve only got a few years to live seems unfair somehow. We aliens kids are big grievers. Of course, Dylan might want a cat. He’s entitled. Avatar was Katyana’s dog and Myrna was mine when we met. For the last twelve years they’ve been ours.
    â€œI’m down to one dog,” Ollie says like this is some catastrophe. It might help with the aches and pains he’s always on about if he didn’t regularly get pulled like a wishbone with a Doberman on one hand and a Husky on the other.
    â€œWhat is she?” I ask. We both prefer females, like most alien males.
    â€œIt’s a boy, actually. He’s six months, and he’s already a handful. I saw him where I used to volunteer, and, you know me, I took him home. He’s a Dane. I always wanted one, but never took the plunge because they don’t live so long, and it’s hard enough having your heart broke every few years. But I figure we can make it a contest—he and I—see if we can both make a decade.”
    â€œI like it. What do you call him?”
    â€œHoratio.”
    â€œHe does survive the play.”
    â€œExactly. How’s yours doing? Still the standard poodle and the border collie?”
    â€œThat’s right. They’re both getting to that rickety arthritic stage, though Myrna may be doing a touch better than Avatar. If one goes, the other one will not be far behind. They’re tight. They stick around for each other.”
    Ollie laughs. It echoes in his john. “Are you one of those crazy alien motherfuckers with a soft spot for animals?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œMe too. How’s the family?”
    â€œThat’s why I called. Katyana’s father died.”
    â€œShit, I’m sorry to hear that.” I can hear the wheels turning. “He was kind of crazy, wasn’t he?”
    â€œHe committed suicide. New Mexico cop just called. He jumped into the abyss.”
    â€œHoly shit.”
    â€œThere’s more.”
    So I tell him the whole story right up to the last message from Simon Deetermeyer himself.
    â€œSo y’all are just uprooting and going to New Mexico? To that place of all places? Jeez, Stan, this is the loopiest thing you’ve ever done.”
    â€œI thought that was marrying Katyana. That’s turned out so horrible I can hardly begin to describe my suffering to you.”
    â€œYou don’t have to get snippy. I’m happy for you. How’s Dylan?”
    I tell him about our anniversary breakfast. He doesn’t snicker once during the whole thing, and tells me what a sweet kid I have.
    So I’m not exactly surprised when he says, “Can I come with you? I don’t know how I’d get out there otherwise. I mean, if Deetermeyer’s right, I don’t want to miss it. I’d drive myself, but they took my license away.”
    â€œOf course, Ollie. The more the merrier.”
    He doesn’t even tell me not to call him Ollie.
    *   *   *
    When Ollie and I were little, we used to ride along with Dad summers, in the back seat of the company car. He was a traveling salesman with a five-state territory and was away a lot. According to Simon Deetermeyer’s research, traveling salesman was a favorite job among the original aliens. They were ideally suited—restless chameleons with tons of empathy and a ready wit. In Dad’s case—a pharmaceutical representative, aka prescription drug peddler, aka detail man—his work may also have been research on humans. You can learn a lot about a species by what ails them, what they choose to treat, the