“You seem worried,” said the protector as they drove toward town.  George looked up to see the protector staring at him in the rear view mirror.

He cleared his throat, trying to force himself to act casual.  “I guess I am a bit,” he said.

“Well, I guess I can’t blame you,” replied the protector.  “It all seems strange and confusing.  The Ziphon said there was something you and the others could do to help, but we have no clue what it is.  Meanwhile your father is still a prisoner of the Grak, and you’re powerless to help him.  I’d be worried too if I were you.”

George didn’t respond.  He wished that was all he had to worry about.  Naturally, he couldn’t tell the protector that he was also worried about his own suspicions of him.

Rounding a corner, Emberly suddenly pointed and said, “what’s that?”  They saw an ice cream truck parked up the street, and a group of children gathered around it.

“That’s an ice cream truck,” replied the protector.  “Do you want some?”

“Why would I want a truck?” answered Emberly.  “I can’t drive.”

The protector laughed.  “Not the truck.  The ice cream.  It’s a food that tastes good.  Here, we’ll stop and try some.”

The protector instructed Ant Number 4 to pull over.  As they got out, the protector asked George, “do you think you have time?  Has your mother tried to call?”

George quickly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.  “No,” he said in surprise.  “There are no messages.  Ever since she had the happy memory pill she hasn’t been as protective.”

“That’s the after affect of the pill,” said the protector.  “It leaves a happy residue for awhile that makes the person more friendly toward you.”

They had arrived at the truck.  Emberly was looking with fascination at the various ice creams the driver sold.

“They sell bombs!” she exclaimed in wonder.  “Won’t they explode?”

George laughed.  “Those are bomb pops,” he said.  “They’re popsicles, not real bombs.”

“And look at the funny people,” said Emberly, pointing at the cartoon character ice creams.  “Is it o.k. to eat people?  I’m not sure that’s polite.”

“It’s just ice cream shaped like people,” the protector said with a smile.  “Here, I’ll get us all some bomb pops.”

The protector paid the money and gave them their bomb pops.  Emberly stared at hers for a moment, as if she expected it to blow up in her face.

George unwrapped his popsicle, and stuck the end in his mouth.  “Try it,” he said to Emberly.  “It’s good.”

Emberly unwrapped her bomb pop and took a bite.  Her face suddenly screwed up in horror and she threw it on the ground.

“It’s cold!” she cried.  “It’s freezing my mouth.” 

George wasn’t sure whether to laugh, or look the other way.  The ice cream vender was staring at them curiously.

Gently the protector picked up the bomb pop.  “It’s just a frozen food,” he said.  “It’s supposed to be cold.  But it’s still good to eat.”

“But the Grak are cold,” Emberly said simply.  After a moment a smile came across her face.  “Here,” she demanded, taking her bomb pop from the protector.

“That one fell on the ground, and isn’t clean,” said the protector.  “Let me buy you another one.”  However, before he could do anything, Emberly took the bomb pop over to a tree and smashed it into the tree trunk.

“There!” she said in triumph.  “Now the tree had some cold food, and can make cold shade with its leafs.”

The ice cream vender was staring at them as if they had gone mad.

“Perhaps we’d better go,” the protector said as discretely as he could.  Silently the three headed back to the Volkswagen.  Emberly kept looking back over her shoulder with a big smile on her face.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“That was polite, wasn’t it?” she said.  “Giving food to others is polite, just like Donna Tereza gave us cookies.”

“I suppose so,” replied the protector.

Emberly stopped, looking puzzled.  “Then why didn’t the tree say ‘thank you?’”

The protector smiled.  “Hop into the car,” he said simply, opening the car door.  “We’d better take George home.”

The protector had been right about the after affects of the happy memory pills.  George’s mother didn’t seem troubled at all that he hadn’t returned until early afternoon, even though he hadn’t called to say he would be late.  Janet was once again beside herself, and tried to talk their mother into punishing him.  But their mother just smiled sweetly, and said she didn’t think there was any need for that.  Finally, Janet threw her hands up in the air and went to her room to sulk.

After lunch, George called Jiu Na and told her what had happened in Portugal.  She greeted the news somberly, especially when she heard of the attack by the Grak on Donna Tereza.  “You could be next,” she said in an ominous tone.  “It could happen anytime, and anywhere.”

“But it could happen to you too,” replied George simply.  “We don’t know what the Grak are up to, but it seems to involve us and our fathers.  Anything could happen at any time!”

“I know,” said Jiu Na, her voice sick with worry.  “I can’t think of anything else, and I’m so jumpy I don’t know what to do.”

Once again she warned him repeatedly to be wary of the protector.  She was especially troubled that he had agreed to meet the protector again the next morning so they could plan what to do next.  George felt uncomfortable at her warnings, but said little.  He knew if he voiced his confusion about whether the protector was for them or against them, Jiu Na would just become more concerned and warn him even more strongly.  Finally, having little else to say, they ended the call—after Jiu Na made him promise to call again the next morning, before he met the protector.  George knew the reason.  She was going to try to talk him out of going with the protector again.

The afternoon passed slowly.  A brownish haze seemed to settle in the air, which matched George’s mood.  He was restless and uneasy.  He fretted in his room for awhile, went outside and fretted some more, then came back to his room.  Always in his mind were worries and thoughts of the Grak and what they were up to, of his father and how he was held prisoner, and of the protector and whether he was friend or foe.  The Uth stone in his pocket felt so cold it seemed to pierce into George’s leg.  He finally left the pouch containing the stone on his dresser.

The evening was no better.  Watching TV seemed meaningless, and there was nothing else to do.  George’s mother, sensing something wrong, threatened again to take him to the doctor.  It was the first time George had seen Janet smile in days.

Finally it was time for bed.  After slowly changing into his pajamas and turning out the light, George lay staring at his ceiling for a long time.  What did it all mean?  What was he to do?  Who was he to trust?  Why were his father and the other two men being held prisoner by the Grak?  What was the protector’s role in all this?  With heavy questions such as these preying on his mind, George finally dropped off into a fitful sleep.  As he closed his eyes, he failed to notice that the pouch containing the Uth stone on his dresser had started to glow.

There was a sudden loud ‘pop!’ that woke George with a start.  Looking wildly all around, he was alarmed to see the same Ziphon sitting on the edge of his bed.

“George Brown,” it said in its voice like gravel, “the time has come.  You must decide quickly, or all will be lost!”  Turning its head slowly toward the dresser, it said, “and you must decide too.” 

With another ‘pop!’ the Ziphon was gone.