Tick Tock

pull the pain out of his flesh.
    She said, “You're weary to the bone, poor baby. Turn away from me a little. Let me work on you.”
    “Work on me?”
    “Move your butt a little, tofu boy, come on,” she said, nudging him with her hip.
    The chariot was narrow, but he was able to turn enough to allow her to massage his shoulders and the back of his neck. Her slender hands were surprisingly strong, but though she pressed hard at times, she relieved rather than caused pain.
    Sighing, he said, “Who taught you this?”
    “It's just a thing I know. Like my painting.”
    They were both quiet for minute, except for Tommy's occasional groan as Del's fingers found another coil of tension and slowly unwound it.
    The diligent Scootie passed, out at the edge of the platform, as black as the night itself and as silent as a spirit.
    As she worked her thumbs up and down the nape of Tommy's neck, Del said, “Have you ever been abducted by aliens?”
    “Oh, boy.”
    “What?”
    “Here we go again.”
    “You mean you have?”
    “Been abducted? Of course not. I mean, here you go again, getting weird.”
    “You don't believe in extraterrestrial intelligences?”
    “I believe the universe is so big that there's got to be lots of other intelligent species in it.”
    “So what's weird?”
    “But I don't believe they come all the way across the galaxy to kidnap people and take them up in flying saucers and examine their genitals.”
    “They don't just examine the genitals.”
    “I know, I know. Sometimes they take the abductee to Chicago for beer and pizza.”
    She lightly, chastisingly slapped the back of his head. “You're being sarcastic.”
    “A little.”
    “It's not becoming to you.”
    “Listen, an alien species, vastly more intelligent than we are, creatures millions of years more evolved than we are, probably wouldn't have any interest in us at all—and certainly wouldn't be interested enough to spend so much manpower harassing a bunch of ordinary citizens.”
    Massaging his scalp now, Del said, “Personally, I believe in alien abductions.”
    “I am not surprised.”
    “I believe they're worried about us.”
    “The aliens?”
    “That's right.”
    “Why would they be worried about us?”
    “We're such a troubled species, so confused, self-destructive. I think the aliens want to help us achieve enlightenment.”
    “By examining our genitals? Then those guys sitting ringside at nude-dancing clubs only want to help the girls on the stage to achieve enlightenment.”
    From behind him, she reached around to his forehead, drawing light circles on his brow with her fingers. “You're such a wise guy.”
    “I write detective novels.”
    “Maybe you've even been abducted,” she said.
    “Not me.”
    “You wouldn't remember.”
    “I'd remember,” he assured her.
    “Not if the aliens didn't want you to.”
    “Just a wild shot in the dark here—but I bet you think you've been abducted.”
    She stopped massaging his brow and pulled him around to face her again. Her murmur fell to a conspiratorial whisper: “What if I told you there are a few nights when I've had missing hours, blank spots, where I just seem to have blacked out, gone into a fugue state or something. All abductees report these missing hours, these holes in their memories where their abduction experiences have been erased or suppressed.”
    “Del, dear sweet loopy Del, please don't be offended, please understand that I say this with affection: I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you had a couple of these missing hours every day of the week.”
    Puzzled, she said, “Why would I be offended?”
    “Never mind.”
    “Anyway, I don't have them every day of the week—only one or two days a year.”
    “What about ghosts?” he asked.
    “What about them?”
    “Do you believe in ghosts?”
    “I've even met a few,” she said brightly. “What about the healing power of crystals?” She shook her head. “They can't heal, but they can focus your psychic power.”
    “Out-of-body experiences?”
    “I'm sure it can be done, but I like my body too much to want to leave it even for a short time.”
    “Remote viewing?”
    “That's easy. Pick a town.”
    “What?”
    “Name a town.”
    “Fresno,” he said.
    With bubbly confidence, she said, “I could describe any room in any building in Fresno—where I've never been in my life, by the way—and if we drove up there tomorrow, you'd see it was just like I said.”
    “What about Big Foot?”
    She put a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle. “You're such a goof, Tuong Tommy. Big Foot is bullshit,