The Cuckoo's Progeny
02: Comparing Skills

Copyright© 2016 Vincent Berg. All rights reserved.

Betty answered the quiet knock, letting her brother in. She’d been expecting him.

“Telling Mom and Dad you took me out for dinner was a clever move.”

“Yeah, they noticed your being ... distracted, fidgety and staring off into space. They’re worried about you—just as they were with my running off to rescue you.”

“Well, they appreciate your supporting me. It’ll help the two of us sneak off tomorrow.”

“We need to discuss what we’re dealing with. People don’t pick up strange new abilities; especially when they aren’t even physically possible. How can you sense things from miles away, while I anticipate what hasn’t even happened yet?”

She shrugged, glancing out the window. “I don’t understand it either. I was ... searching. Like you, it started yesterday. I’m not completely sure I’m the one with the talent. It may be some object drawing me, an external event. All I know is it’s essential I find it.”

“Still, whether it’s pulling you or you’re seeking it, there’s got to be something receiving a signal. So we’re back to my original question: is it biological, genetic, or is there some object inside us we’re unaware of?”

“Hopefully we’ll learn when we locate it. For now, we’re operating by instinct. We can’t begin to analyze the impulses until we get more data. If it’s an inanimate object, it’s different than if it’s a living entity. With luck, we’ll have a better idea after tomorrow.”

He stood, running his hand through his hair and closing his eyes. “Thanks for the encouragement. I was hoping to convince myself this isn’t a wild-goose chase. Despite my own ability, I’m tempted to assume it’s all your imagination.”

“We won’t know until we determine what it is. If it’s nothing, I’ll drop it. However, this might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, opening her door and walking out, “the perfect chance to get mugged!”


“It’s wonderful you are spending the day with your sister. Shopping together will be good for you. You can both have fun while meeting new people.”

“Mom, Be and I get along phenomenally. We’ve never had any significant issues.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that. Why can’t you use her name?”

“Relax, Mom. I don’t mind. After what he did, he can call me anything he wants!”

Amanda Collins cocked her head, leaning against the kitchen counter. “And what did he do for you?”

“Why, offer to take me shopping, of course.” Betty laughed, enjoying teasing their mother. “But beyond that, he was especially pleasant last night. After he rescued me from the park, he took me to dinner and talked me down. I was a little ... freaked out.”

Amanda was a young, vibrant woman, despite having two grown kids. Her hair caressed her face, and her brilliant eyes were set off by her pale skin and the bright cheeks of the Irish.

Betty was the most similar to their mother, with light-brunette hair which only looked partially reddish in the correct light. They both wore their hair in matching styles, hanging free around their faces, since it wouldn’t listen to what they wanted. Al’s hair was closer to his father’s, though that was all they had in common. Both had mostly straight black hair with a hint of brown, and their skin was so white it almost hurt your eyes. Yet Macy Collins was a short, muscular man, while Al was tall, gangly and strikingly thin. Macy also had a poor complexion, unmanageable hair and pinched eyebrows, none of which his son inherited. Most people looked doubtful when their parents introduced them as their kids.

“While you’re out, you might introduce him to one of your friends, or better yet, push him to approach a girl on his own. He’s been single for much too long. It’s not good for a young man to spend so much time on his own.”

“It’s not that kind of outing,” Betty said. “He’s not taking me to hang with my friends. We’re honestly spending the day together.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t help him with his self-esteem.”

“Hey,” Al argued. “Be’s not in a relationship either.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” their mother said, rolling her eyes. “Okay, now that breakfast is finished, you—”

Before she could finish, Al leapt up. “Excuse me, but ... I’ll be out by the car warming it up.” He disappeared before Amanda could register a protest. She turned to her daughter, but Betty grabbed her purse—actually a small backpack—and took out after him. “I better go,” she said, glancing back. “He ... might get bored and leave without me.”

Finding herself in an empty kitchen with the kid’s plates abandoned for her to clean up, she shook her head. “I’ll never get used to kids this age. They’re so ... unpredictable.” She picked up their dishes, carrying them back to the sink to rinse. “One moment they’re calm, the next they’re dashing out like the house is on fire.”

Betty ran outside in time to witness her brother running full tilt towards the street. Remembering his newfound talent, she imagined what might provoke such a response and took off after him. “Stay back!” he shouted, though she didn’t listen. Realizing she was following, he yelled over his shoulder. “Look both ways!”

Not understanding, she didn’t give it much thought as he raced across the road without looking. When she reached the street, she saw him bend over. Remembering his words, she glanced down the road and saw a car barreling towards them. She halted just in time. As Al grabbed a small boy running between the parked cars lining the street, a black SUV flew by, narrowly missing them. It never slowed, flying gravel striking Betty’s legs.

Betty took a deep breath, standing beside the road grasping her chest. She saw their neighbor, Mrs. Monica Lopez, rushing forwards.

“Oh, my baby!” she shrieked. Al handed her bundle of joy to her and she tightly hugged the five-year-old. Betty risked crossing their normally quiet street as Monica threw one arm over Al’s shoulder, planting a big kiss on his lips. “Thank you so much! You saved Malcolm’s life. If you hadn’t been here, he’d be gone!”

Al blushed. “It was nothing. I was in the right place at the...”

She shushed him with another kiss before pulling back. “It was more than that. You were sent from above to rescue my baby.” As Malcolm began to struggle, she released her hold on Al, who backed up.

“Anyone would do the same,” he said.

Monica was a pretty thing in her mid to late 20’s. She had longer, curlier hair similar to Al’s, dark and lustrous. She always wore the widest smile, and her teeth shone bright in the early morning sunlight. “The hell they would! You were almost hit as well. You were standing there as the SUV raced by. If you didn’t risk your life, my baby wouldn’t be here now.”

Realizing her brother didn’t know how to extricate himself, Betty stepped in. “He’s much too humble to take credit for anything.” She wrapped her arm around his. “Now, weren’t you about to take me shopping?”

“Oh, yeah! In all the excitement, I almost forgot. Sorry to rescue your baby and run, but my sister’s pocketbook awaits.”

“Go on,” she said, waving them off as she set her son back on the ground. Without waiting to say anything, he ran across the street after the ball he’d been chasing. “Malcolm! Watch the street when you cross. You almost got killed!”

“Some kids never learn,” Al teased.

“If the idiot hadn’t been racing down suburban streets, it wouldn’t be an issue. You’d think they’d know there are children here! Anyway, have a wonderful day. I don’t want to keep you.”

Waving, the two siblings ran across the street and climbed in Al’s car, backed up and drove—very slowly—away from the scene of Malcolm’s rescue.


“So, Monica was quite chummy,” Betty said, studying her brother.

“She was just thankful, like you were. People tend to prefer not dying.”

“I’m your sister. I’m allowed to kiss my brother. She was being forward. Which is especially inappropriate since her son was right there. She’s supposedly happily married too.”

Al glanced at her before turning back to the road. “It was just a kiss, the same kind you gave me. It was a thank you. That’s all. She didn’t mean anything by it.”

Betty turned her head away, glancing out at the passing street. “That’s what you think. You wouldn’t know if someone was interested in you if she gave you a lap dance.”

“Look who’s talking. As I told Mom, you’re no more experienced in the romance department than I am.”

“No, but I am a woman. We notice these things. If something is staring a guy in the face, he won’t notice it.”

Focusing on traffic, he didn’t even try to meet her eyes. “You’re imagining things. She’s a sweetie. She’d never do anything inappropriate.”

“Sure. She’s sweet to you, but only because she likes you. You’d be surprised what some women can do.”

“Do you hear yourself? This is Monica. We’ve known her for years. What’s this about? You aren’t jealous, are you?”

Her head spun around, her hand rising to her chest. “Me, envious? Of what? I just think you need to find someone closer to your age.”

“You’re not being terribly objective. Monica couldn’t be nicer. She’s never tried anything with me.”

“That you recognize,” she sniffed, glancing out the window again.

“Getting back on topic; how does this work? How do I know when to turn?”

“Keep driving. We’ll start from where you rescued me yesterday, but it’s a turn-by-turn thing. There’s no doubt, I arrive at an intersection and simply understand which way to go.”

“Even if you don’t know what you’re looking for?”

“No, I’m unaware of what’s drawing me, but the pull is clear. It might be an animal, mineral or vegetable, but we need to find it.”

“Okay, assuming it’s like my new talent, let’s assume you’re correct. What if it’s hundreds of miles away? What then?”

“I doubt it will be. I wouldn’t detect it if it was.”

“You thought it was close yesterday, yet you walked all day and got no closer. What’s to say we get no nearer today either?”

“Then we keep trying,” she said.

“I’m not saying I won’t help, but we need to define our parameters. Did you bring lunch?”

“I planned to pack one, but you ran out of the house like a jackrabbit. I didn’t want to go back in and admit what you’d done. We’d be answering questions all day and Mom would never let us out the door again.”

“Okay, so we’re buying lunch. Luckily there are tons of fast food joints which won’t take long. How long do we search before we give it up for the day? Does this internal compass give you the shortest route, or the quickest?”

“What do you mean? Aren’t they the same?”

“Hardly. Taking the interstate is faster than driving all day along local roads. If you’re doing this on a street-by-street basis, it’s not an efficient process. We should triangulate the location instead of driving randomly. Besides, I’d rather avoid troublesome regions.”

“What if what I’m searching for is in a dangerous area?” she asked, turning to study him.

“Then maybe it’s safer leaving it alone. I don’t want to risk losing you for some rock.”

“You never know,” she giggled. “It may be a diamond.”

“Then it’ll be in a jewelry store, not out on the street. We don’t get many natural diamonds in this region of the country.”

She wiped her brow, fanning herself. “Could you turn on the air conditioning?”

“It’s pleasant outside. If you’re warm, roll up your sleeves. The windows accentuate the sun and your cotton top retains heat.”

Instead of following his advice, she tugged the sleeves of her garment further down, massaging her wrists. “How about you? As you said, it’s warm, but you’re wearing a long-sleeve work shirt.”

“I might need to move something,” he said, focusing on the road.

“That’s silly and you know it. Just roll your own sleeves up or turn on the air conditioner.”

Sighing, Al rolled his window down. “Does that help?”

“Not really, it’s just blowing the warm air around and messing up my hair. What’s the issue with using the air conditioner?”

Betty noticed they’d turned, following a different road.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to where we met yesterday. I travel by there every day; this is the fastest route.”

“But it’s not the way I went. If what I’m searching for moved, we may miss it.”

“We can always double back, but there’s no sense wasting time putzing around if we can avoid it.”

“That sounds reasonable,” she agreed. “By the way, whoever taught you Yiddish? Monica?”

He didn’t bother responding, recognizing it for the viper’s pit it was.


“Wait, where are you going? We’re heading in the wrong direction again,” Betty argued, pointing the way they’d been traveling.

“It’s an emergency,” he said. “With luck, this won’t take long, but we can’t dawdle.”

“Is this something you anticipate?” When he nodded, she focused her attention on the new task, rather than their old one. Whatever they were seeking would wait. After all, it hadn’t shifted much the entire time they were tracking it.

Al made two rapid turns and ended up in a residential neighborhood. He pulled to a stop before a small, rundown cottage. Turning off the car, he got out and headed for the front door at a trot.

“Should I bring something?” Betty called.

Instead of answering, he waved the question off, too focused on rescuing someone to respond. She hurried after him, anticipating the worst.

When they reached the door, there was noise of a struggle inside, with someone gurgling and knocking over items while the other growled. Both were panting.

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