Chapter 9: The Road Not Taken


It was a dark and stormy night. No, strike that. It was a bright and
sunny day. Busy squirrels storing acorns for the winter, birds, autumn,
leaves on the ground, cool crisp air, you know the drill. The location
was the end of Wombat Lane in a housing subdivision in the quiet and
peaceful town of Runnemede, not that you could really get much peace and
quiet within a block or so of the high speed traffic on the New Jersey
Turnpike.

Indeed while trucks rumbled and cars zoomed all day long on the elevated
highway, it seemed like a completely different world down in Wombat Lane
Park. The large concrete wall running all the way along the Turnpike,
which they called a noise barrier, was doing its job. And so too did the
row of trees and the tangled thorny brush behind the noise barrier. That
too played a part in absorbing the constant din from the traffic.

And that was where the Wombat Lane Park began or ended, depending on how
you look at it. There was an unmanaged part of the park, a strip of land
basically left to grow all wild and thorny. The brush was high enough
that you could just about pretend that the Turnpike, which was just
behind it, did not exist at all. After the brushy strip came another
strip of land, this time with mowed grass. And then there was a jogging
path, paved in asphalt, that went in one large circle around the park.
Getting further from the Turnpike, there were two large squarish ponds
that looked obviously artificial. Essentially, most of the area of the
park was water and not land. The jogging path, which ran next to the
park boundary, looped all the way around the two ponds. Between the two
ponds was but a narrow bridge of land, on which there was another path.
That made the overhead view of the park look like the rectangular figure
eight on an old fashioned calculator liquid crystal display.

The two ponds were stream fed although one might be forgiven for not
even knowing that there was a stream. When the Turnpike was built, the
stream was dug up and replaced by a large culvert going under the
Turnpike. So the water came in via the culvert, hung around the ponds
for a bit, and flowed out lazily into a small muddy creek towards the
Delaware River.

However artificial the landscape may look, it still served a purpose in
nature. Small black fish, thought to be related to carp, swam around in
both of the square ponds. Most of the surface of the two ponds was
covered in algae but about half of one pond and a third of the other had
been taken over by dark green lily pads and in the summer, bullfrogs
would sit on those lily pads and croak without end. Occasionally, a herd
of whitetail deer would pass through the park, eating all the grass and
chewing bark off the trees. There have been rumors of bear invasions too
but those remain just that. Rumors.

Anyway, continuing along the paved jogging path around the ponds, we
would once again arrive at the park entrance at the end of Wombat Lane.
And that was where the Wombat Lane playground was located, next to the
park entrance. In the playground, there was a bright cheery yellow swing
set. The swing set had two seats. Frankie sat in one and his sister,
Freda, sat in the other.

As Freda was content to drift back and forth gently on her swing seat,
Frankie was a bit more ambitious as he was trying to build enough
forward and backward momentum to eventually take him over the top of the
swing. He knew he could not quite make it over the top under his own
power so earlier in the day, he had rigged up a pair of rockets and an
ignition system to his swing seat. He was so intent on making it across
the top of the swing that he failed to notice a black van with dark
tinted windows coming up Wombat Lane.

The black van stopped at the end of Wombat Lane, just next to the
playground. Two golden retrievers in black suits and dark glasses got
out of the black van. The first dog pulled out a small black device with
lots of grey buttons. He pushed some of the buttons while maintaining a
finely crafted frown across his forehead. The device beeped. Not very
loudly, but it beeped with a tone of impatience, much like the busy
signal on a phone.

The first dog said "Do you think the one with the implant is the ferret
boy?"

The second dog said "Hard to say. They are too close together to take an
accurate triangulation."

The first dog added "Well, I say we should pick one. Would boss guy be
able to tell if we got the correct one? Maybe they both have implants."

The second dog said "Okay, we can always say the darn device is not
working too well or we made a mistake. And ask for forgiveness later."

The first dog said "Alright then. So which ferret kid do we pick?"

The second dog said "Umm... how about the ferret boy? The ferret girl
looks a bit lethargic, maybe even unwell."

The first dog said "Okay. Let's get the ferret boy then. Fire the remote
neural knockout."

The second dog then pulled out a black rod of about half a foot in
length. The rod had a metal tip and a button at the base. The second dog
pointed the rod at Frankie. He knew he had to time it just right to hit
his target as by that time, the ferret boy was swinging back and forth
rather rapidly. He figured that when the ferret boy was at the bottom of
his swing, it would be the best time because that was when he could
align the black rod with the ferret boy's head for the longest time. So
he waited until Frankie was swinging forwards and about 10 degrees or so
from reaching the bottom of his swing cycle. Then he pushed the button.

Frankie never saw it coming. One second, he was swinging back and forth
on the swing. The next second, it appeared as though the world had
burst into a field of stars and then all he saw was blackness. As his
consciousness faded rapidly, all he could do was hold on tightly to the
chains of the swing and hope that he did not fall off.

Frankie woke up in a cold room illuminated by flourescent lighting.
He was lying on what appeared to be a hospital bed. His arms and legs
were held down to the bed by plastic straps. He was also not in the
clothes he was wearing at the playground but instead in some kind of one
piece light blue gown. All the walls were shiny steel. Along the walls
there were some steel cabinets. Frankie could not see what was in most
of the cabinets as their doors were shut. One nearby cabinet had a door
that was ajar and he could see boxes labeled cotton gauze, bandages,
syringes and so on, medical supplies being a common thread.

Frankie also noticed that there were waist high machines all around the
room. Each machine was like a grey box with a small control panel at the
top right corner on the front. One of the machines was next to his bed
and he noticed that there was a wire coming from the machine to an
electrode on his left arm.

A border collie in a doctor's white coat entered the room. He had a
stethoscope hanging loosely around his neck and he was carrying a
clipboard. He walked across the room and stopped next to Frankie.
Frankie tried to speak but found out that he was not able to because
there was something in his mouth. The border collie pulled out a small
flashlight from his coat pocket. He held open Frankie's left eyelid
while shining the flashlight into Frankie's eye for a second or two.
Then he held open Frankie's right eyelid and did the same thing again.
Then he nodded, pulled out a pen from his coat pocket, and made a
notation on a sheet of paper on his clipboard.

Then a german shepherd guy, also in the same doctor's white coat outfit,
entered the room. In whispers that Frankie was unable to hear, the
border collie and the german shepherd started discussing something. In a
minute or two, they stopped. The german shepherd picked up a syringe
full of a green liquid from a tray sitting on the machine next to the
bed. He pushed the handle of the syringe in a tiny bit and a small
amount of green liquid sprang out from the needle. He picked up an
alcohol soaked cotton swab from the tray and dabbed a bit of alcohol on
Frankie's left arm. Then he poked the needle into Frankie's arm and
pushed the handle. Frankie wanted to scream but he could not so he
winced as he felt the prick of the needle and the pressure of the green
liquid rushing in. The german shepherd withdrew the needle and set it
down on the tray. Then both the german shepherd and the border collie
left the room. The room started jiggling ever so slightly. Frankie felt
somewhat woozy and the steel walls and steel cabinets appeared to be
warping and dissolving. In a matter of minutes, all he saw was an
expanse of greyness and then he passed out and was sound asleep.

Over the years, Frankie got to know his captors rather well. He rather
liked the border collie, who appeared to be the most gentle of the lot.
On some occasions, the border collie would just sit next to Frankie to
talk about the news, the events of the day and politics. He stopped
short at explaining the reason why Frankie was being held at the medical
facility but on all the other subjects, he was quite open.

On the other hand, Frankie was almost afraid of the german shepherd, who
was gruff and a bit rougher in his treatment of Frankie. The german
shepherd appeared to be in charge of taking blood and tissue samples and
administering drugs. At times, the german shepherd would come pretty
close to yanking Frankie's arm clean off just to give him an injection.
There were times when the border collie and the german shepherd nearly
came to blows because the border collie thought the german shepherd was
being too rough and wanted to intervene.

And then there was the cat lady who came in once a day. She was usually
dressed in a white hat, a white blouse and a short white skirt.
Apparently, that was a nurse's uniform in this facility. She came in to
give Frankie his baths. Frankie thought it was very weird at first,
because the way she would bathe him was by licking him all over with
her rough cat's tongue. It was a tongue bath. Frankie thought it was
especially weird when she got to his ticklish parts. He tried to
struggle but it was no use as his arms and legs were held in restraints
so he had to let her do her job. After a few weeks of tongue baths, he
got used to it and started to enjoy it and even looked forward to it
every day.

There was a different cat lady who would bring in a tray of food several
times a day. She was also dressed in the same white nurse's outfit as
the tongue bath cat lady. Tasteless white mushy gruel was usually all
that was on the menu, although on some days, she brought in a ham
sandwich. Frankie always looked forward to that treat. The meals were
almost always accompanied by one, two or three pills that were sometimes
blue, sometimes green and sometimes red capsules with yellow bands. The
cat lady assured Frankie that those were vitamin pills although Frankie
did not really know what to believe.

There were some other people who came in less frequently. There was a
red rooster, except that he did not look like a real red rooster as the
head was large and cartoonish and the feathers appeared to hang loosely
on the red rooster's body. To Frankie, he appeared like someone wearing
a red rooster costume. Judging by the way the red rooster bossed around
everyone else, he was apparently the head of the operation. The red
rooster was nearly always accompanied by a lion and a tiger. Both of
them usually wore dark grey business suits and ties, and they appeared
to be the main henchmen of the red rooster. The trio were also often
accompanied by the two golden retrievers in black suits and dark
glasses, and Frankie recognized them as his kidnappers. They usually
stood silently, like statues, in one corner of the room although it was
obvious that they were on alert and ready to spring into action should
the red rooster require protection.

In addition to the extraction of blood and tissue samples, Frankie
endured a number of other experiments over the years. In one experiment,
he was dunked into a glass tank full of water and held there until he
was just about to drown before the german shepherd pulled him out of the
tank. He had nightmares about that experiment practically every night.
In another experiment, he was dunked into the same glass tank full of
green liquid. Amazingly enough, he seemed able to breathe in the green
liquid and floated around suspended in that liquid for up to an hour
with electrodes strapped to his arms while a machine recorded his vital
signs. In another experiment, which was weirder still, Frankie was made
to stand in a glass tank while a blue gel substance was pumped in. He
had to hold his breath as the blue gel filled the tank up and above his
head, and as he was about to suffocate, the german shepherd would cut
away the partially hardened gel. And then there were the experiments
where Frankie was drugged and put to sleep for two or three weeks while
the german shepherd did who knows what to him.

But worse still were the procedures that started in his mid teens
because that was when the german shepherd started collecting semen
samples. The machine that the german shepherd rolled into the room
looked ominous enough. It was full of dials and meters and blinking
lights. Even more ominous was the cable leading out from the machine.
The cable itself was not ominous but the object at the end was. It
appeared to be a metal rod, about three quarters of an inch in diameter,
which tapered at the end to a dull point. The german shepherd would take
some petroleum jelly from a jar and rub it all over the metal rod with
a latex gloved hand. Then he would turn Frankie over on his side and
shove the metal rod into his bung hole. The first thing Frankie felt and
what he always dreaded was the feeling of something cold go into his
rear end. The next thing he hated was when the german shepherd went
around to his front and placed a test tube on his penis. That
procedure always hurt badly because the german shepherd would jam it on
his most sensitive of parts. Then the german shepherd would flip a
switch on the machine and it would come alive.

At first, all Frankie would feel was a slight tingling around his rear
end. As the german shepherd turned the dial, the tingling would get more
intense. Then the twitching would start, first around his lower back
muscles and then spreading halfway down his legs. And all that time, the
tingling would get more and more intense. The german shepherd would
continue turning the dial. The tingling feeling would turn into pain and
the twitching would turn into rather violent jerks, although with his
arms and legs in restraints, the violent jerking was not going to go
anywhere. The pain and uncontrollable jerking would reach some kind of
crescendo and a bit of milky liquid would spurt out of his penis into
the test tube. That was when the german shepherd would stop the machine
and remove the test tube and the steel rod. And Frankie would lie in bed
with a dull ache all over for the rest of the day.

One day, the red rooster was in the room for one of his occasional
visits. His henchmen, the lion and tiger, were there too. And so were
the two golden retrievers in their dark suits. The red rooster, the lion
and the tiger were huddled together in the center of the room discussing
something that Frankie was not quite able to make out. Suddenly, a
ferret lady came running into the room. She was beautiful, Frankie
thought. She was rather tall and had long graceful legs. Her long
flowing head hair bobbed and waved with her every movement. She was
wearing a yellow acrylic jacket with two black vertical stripes. She was
also wearing a medium brown leather gun holster strapped around her
waist with a large gun with a pearl white handle in the holster Frankie
took a look at her face and she was remarkably familiar. But of course.
She was his sister, Freda, whom he had never seen since the day he was
kidnapped at the playground.

The two golden retrievers sprang into action. They leapt out of the
corner of the room and ran towards her to intercept her path. But Freda
was too quick for them. She sprang up, swung her left leg upwards and
planted a kick right in the first dog's face. The second dog threw a
punch but she bowed down and dodged that punch while swinging her right
arm outwards, hitting the second dog hard in the ribs sending him
falling to the ground.

While the two dogs were lying on the ground gasping and moaning in pain
from the blows they had just received, the lion and tiger had both drawn
their guns and were aiming those at Freda. Both of them fired their guns
at almost the same time. All of a sudden, everything appeared to slow
down. The bullets traced gentle arcs through the air, leaving visible
pockets of air in their wakes. Freda, who was running towards the lion
and tiger, dove down to her left in slow motion as the bullets flew by
her, bounced of the wall and clattered on the ground harmlessly. Then
everything speeded up again. Freda was still moving forward as she dove
to her left to dodge the bullets. Almost like magic, she righted herself
and continued her run without missing a step. Then she jumped up and
swung both her legs to the side, kicking both the lion and the tiger in
their faces simultaneously. With such heavy blows from her double kick,
both the lion and the tiger collapsed to the ground.

In the meantime, the two dogs had gotten up and had come within striking
distance. The first dog threw a punch at Freda's head but she leaned
backwards a little to dodge the punch. She grabbed the first dog's arm,
pulled him a bit further and planted an elbow in his face. Then
she continued pulling his arm over and threw the first dog down, sending
him sprawling onto the ground. While that was happening, the second dog
jumped up and aimed a kick right at the back of Freda's head. She ducked
and the second dog's leg went over her head. Quickly, she grabbed the
second dog's leg, which was still moving through the air. Then she bent
over and threw the second dog head over heels way across the room.

Standing in the middle of the room, Freda turned to face the red
rooster. She reached for the gun in her holster, pulled it out and
pointed it at the red rooster.

"And now I kill the frog" said Freda coldly, as she squeezed the trigger
of the gun. With a loud thunder crack, a bullet flew out of the barrel
of the gun. Almost immediately, the red rooster's head appeared to split
in half. The two halves peeled open to reveal the head of a frog who was
wide eyed with fear and pale as a ghost. Then, not even a split second
later, the frog's head also split open. Blood spurted out of the frog's
head and spattered on the floor in a circle around the frog, and on the
wall behind him. The frog fell to his knees and then fell flat on the
ground face down.

Frankie woke up with a start, his heart racing at about a mile a minute.
The sunlight came in through his window. He took a look at his clock
radio. It read 7:45, which was fifteen minutes before his alarm would go
off. There was a gentle breeze outside stirring up the fallen leaves
from the trees. All in all, it looked to be a beautiful day.

He checked himself. This time he was in pajamas, a cotton pinstriped
shirt and a cotton pinstriped pants. Given the past few days, he was not
sure if he went to sleep of his own accord or if he was drugged and
placed in his bed, after who knows what atrocity. But he remembered that
he did something to be sure that it had not happened. He remembered that
before going to bed, he had stuck a piece of masking tape on every
access point to his room. He checked the masking tape at the bottom of
the door. It was still there and intact. He checked the masking tape on
his window. That too was still there and intact. Then he checked the
masking tape that he placed across his bung hole. It was still there.
What a relief, he thought.

Since everything appeared to be in order, he decided to get up and have
breakfast in the kitchen. He got out of the bedroom. The kitchen was
just down the hallway from the bedroom. As a bachelor, he had not ever
paid much attention to keeping a tidy home. So all along the hallway,
there were stacks of stuff of his, from old magazines to books to old
mail order catalogs. The kitchen was a simple affair. A trusty old
refrigerator stood on one side of the kitchen. The kitchen sink was on
the other side, just below a window looking out into the backyard. All
around the kitchen on the walls was a series of wooden cabinets where
Frankie kept all his pots, pans, plastic souvenir cups from baseball
games, and cutlery. In the center of the kitchen was a simple wooden
table he acquired from a yard sale and several steel folding chairs.
He used that table for dining. But he also did his writing and
paperwork there so all over the table, there were pens, pencils,
erasers, writing pads, utility bills and other correspondence.

Frankie opened one of the cabinets and took out a packet of Wolger's.
That was a brand of coffee named for the hybrid of a wolf and a tiger.
As Frankie knew from television commercials, a Wolger's in his cup was
the best part of waking up. He brought it over to his coffee maker,
which was sitting next to the kitchen sink. He placed it there because,
as he reasoned, in the event of a coffee spill, it would be easier to
clean up there than on any other part of the kitchen counter or at the
table. He picked up a coffee filter from a stack of coffee filters just
behind the coffee maker. He placed the coffee filter into the coffee
maker. Then in one motion, he tore open the top of the packet of
Wolger's. He emptied out the packet of coffee into the coffee filter.
He removed the carafe from the coffee maker, moved it over to the sink
faucet and filled it up. Then he poured the water into the reservoir at
the back of the coffee maker. After replacing the carafe, he flipped the
switch, stood back and waited.

After a few minutes, the water in the reservoir started boiling over
and condensing into the coffee filter. And then a stream of dark brown
coffee trickled down into the carafe. Frankie waited a few more minutes
until the coffee maker was done and the carafe was full. Then he flipped
the switch off. He opened the cabinet and took out his favorite coffee
mug, which had a design with the University of Connecticut husky mascot
spelling out the word UCONN with exaggerated full body poses. He poured
some coffee into the mug and brought the mug over to the kitchen table.
There he sat down and as the steam from the mug of coffee wafted up, he
drifted away into an early morning reverie.

That did not last long as he was jolted back into alertness when he
noticed a piece of paper slide under his kitchen door, which opened out
into the backyard. Quickly, he got up, went to the kitchen door and
opened it. No one was in the backyard, nor was there any trace of anyone
having been there just a few seconds ago. He looked down and there was
the piece of paper, folded once. He bent down and picked up the piece of
paper. He unfolded it. There was writing in blue ink inside. It read
"Pay The Toll at The Tollbooth". But of course, he thought. All of a
sudden, he knew where he had to go next.