41.
How best to explain? Vast distances and time mean little when thoughts and feelings are shared. A connection awakens like those antique screeching modems — yet between people — followed by light and sound.
A scuffed-up, wide-eyed mess of a human being named Damien Goode kneels on a rug, near a leather couch, inside a well-appointed rustic home. He’s handcuffed and flanked by armed Church security. A man talks on the phone outside, batting away bugs from the porch light. He turns. It’s Chief Mayberry.
His hair is much grayer. He’s lost weight — too much. Seven years haven’t been kind.
As Mayberry opens the door and enters, a terrified cat scurries between his legs and runs outside. A photograph of Chief Mayberry, presumably Mrs. Mayberry, five adult children, plus grandkids, hangs proudly above the mantle.
“Rick, I have no idea who he is or what he was doing in my studio. No ID — he won’t speak. Plus, he’s higher than a hippie right now and packing more flavors of crystal than a salt shop.”
There’s a mumbled response.
“I retired, remember? You tell me!”
And then the connection’s like a cellphone in a valley when your call drops.