Traveller by L.W. Samuelson (english reading book TXT) 📕

a small market that sold local produce. While Loreto went inside to buy the groceries, Porter inserted a dime into the glass newspaper dispenser and pulled the Tucson Times out. He sat down on a bench outside and began to read the national news.
With her husband occupied, Loreto took her time picking the crispest apples, perfectly ripened bananas, and bread with the most wholesome ingredients. She was delighted when she found a new shipment of oranges to make fresh squeezed juice. She paid for the items then exited the store.
When Loreto sat down beside her husband, she could feel the intensity with which he was reading. “What is it?” she asked.
He had to be nudged before responding. “Look,” Porter said showing her a piece in the entertainment section. The headline read, “The Benwarian Blues Band to Play at the Univeristy of Arizona.”
Loreto read the opening paragrah out loud, “The Benwarian Blues Band featuring Traveller Orlovsky will be performing at Centennial Hall on Friday, December fourteenth. Come see the band that has toured with Fleetwood Mac, The Doobie Brothers, and Kiss. In their solo debut, expect to be rock and rolled.”
“He’s the boy you told me about, isn’t he?” asked Loreto.
“Yes. He’s hardly a boy anymore, more like a young man. I can’t believe he’s using the name of our people for his band. Not very discreet is he?”
“He’s young. What do you expect?”
“I expect him to keep a low profile and not draw attention to himself. I briefed him to stay in the background now he’s become a rock star. I wonder how many people know he’s an alien.”
“We’ll have to find out,” Loreto said going back into the store. When she came back, she had two tickets for the Benwarian Blues Concert. “I got us close to the stage. The tickets were more expensive, but you’re a rich gold miner from South Africa that spares no expense.”


Chapter 45 - Concert Night

Willy and Lori had both received concert and airline tickets from Traveller for the Benwarian Blues first solo concert. He had also paid for three nights at the Luxury Inn. The resort hotel with its pink adobe main building sat on fourteen acres of gardens, fountains, and flowers with the mountains providing a beautiful backdrop to a place noted for its service.
Although they had taken separate flights, Willy bumped into Lori at the Tucson airport as she was waiting for her luggage. His face lit up when he saw her grab a blue suitcase from the carousel. “Hey girl, how y’all doin’?” he asked taking the case and carrying it for her.
“Hi Willy. You in town for the concert?”
“Yeah, I’m here on Traveller’s dime. Damn fine of him. I ain’t seen him for over year. I thought he all forgot ‘bout me.”
“I didn’t even get to see him the last time he stopped in Pocatello. It’ll be good to see him again,” Lori said.
“Y’all stayin’ at the Luxury?” When she nodded yes, he said “I’ll get us a cab. You goin’ to school this summer?”
“No, I just received my Master’s degree in Literature. I’m kind of in limbo. I might take some time off and travel. I hardly see you anymore. What are you up to?”
“I graduate next fall. I’ve got an offer to play European basketball when I’m through. Maybe make it to the pros if I work hard enough.”
“Far out,” she said just as the cab pulled up. Willy loaded the luggage. Once inside the cab, they compared tickets. They were sitting in the yellow section in front of the stage. “We’re right next to each other. That’s great.” Lori was relieved she wouldn’t have to sit by herself.

On the night of the concert, Willy escorted Lori through the orange brick archways of Centennial Hall on the campus of the University of Arizona. They converged with the mass of people flowing down the middle of the half circle of seats that faced the stage. Orange chairs outlined in black metal disappeared as they accepted their guests. The auditorium bustled with excitement.
Willy stopped at the third row back from the orchestra pit. He guided Lori to a seat directly in front of the middle of the stage. When he turned around to make sure his chair was down, he found himself staring directly into the steely blue eyes of a man with light blue-white skin. Willy turned his head and sat down.
“Lori,” he said just loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “look at the guy sittin’ behind us.”
Lori glanced to her right and back. What she saw caused her to stand up and introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Lori.”
The man stood up also. He towered over her at six feet two inches tall. When he looked down, he said, “Blake Hollister.”
“You look familiar. Are you related to Traveller?”
Porter had learned to be cautious after the debacle in South Africa. “Who’s that?” he asked.
“The lead singer of The Benwarian Blues Band.”
“I doubt it. I might know him though, but I haven’t seen him yet to be sure. Do you know him?”
“Oh yes. We were roomates for a while.”
“How much do you know about him?”
Lori could read Porter’s expression. It asked if she knew Traveller was an alien. “Enough to know he can’t stand the cold,” she said. “Can you?”
“Tucson doesn’t get cold,” he said evasively.
Willy had stood as they talked. Now he interjected himself into the conversation. He held his hand out and said, “Hi, I’m William Thomas, Traveller’s blood brother.”
Just as Willy finished his introduction, a stage hand walked to the microphone in front of the stage curtain. “Testing, one, two, three,” he said tapping the microphone.
“Let’s talk after the show,” Porter said. “Here’s my card in case we get separated.”

After the emcee was granted the silence he asked for, the band was introduced. “And now the greatest thing to come out of Idaho since the potato. Give it up for the Benwarian Blues Band.” The crowd stood up to applaud and whistle as the curtains separated to reveal Austin playing the bass guitar. When the crowd quieted and sat down, Jesse came out, picked up his drum sticks from the seat, sat down, and joined in. Next came Tim on the keyboards. Each time a band member entered the noise grew louder.
Finally a tall long haired male dressed in black leather emerged from stage right carrying a sparkingly blue and white Fender electric guitar. He pugged it into the amplifier before jumping in front of the mike and yelling,
“We gonna rock and roll tonight. Anybody out there want to rock and roll?”
The crowd jumped to their feet screaming, “Get it on! Go Traveller! Yeah baby!”
Traveller started this concert as he had so many others with ‘Ship of Fools.’ “The human race is dying out. No one left to scream and shout . . .”

***

Porter watched as the only Benwarian he had seen in over three years transformed himself into someone else from one song to the next. When he sang Steppenwolf, he became John Kay. On a Doobie Brother’s song he was Michael McDonald. He played a couple of Beatles songs as Paul McCartney donning a black wig and then looking and acting exactly like one of Porter’s favorite musicians.
Interspersed between his own songs and those of others, he slipped in a perfect rendition of Jim Morrison. Each time Traveller slipped into Morrison mode he brought a silver flask to his lips and drank.
For Porter, it was the first time since leaving South Africa that he had seen music bring a crowd together. Music and a common cause had united Africans into a swaying, dancing mass of togetherness. This time, though, it was a hedonistic orgy of fun.
After the newness of the experience began to wane, Porter began to observe his young friend. There had been a profound change in Traveller since they had left the mother ship. He seemed sluggish, depressed. Even though he was able to sway and engage the crowd, Traveller was taking no joy in this performance given on autopilot. He engaged his spectrometer to assess Traveller’s aura, but the stage lights made it impossible to gauge the colors as they blended with the red and blue strobes.
At a pause in the program, Traveller went to the microphone to address the audience directly. “Can somebody tell me where I came from? Did I fall from the stars? Was my mother’s womb the sky? How did I get here? Was it a vast conspiracy between the universe and Earth?” he said to the crowd now quiet. He looked out as he took a pull from the flask, and his eyes locked on Porter’s.
Porter watched him stagger back, wipe his eyes, and shake his head to break the eye contact. “It’s all a dream!” he screamed. “No one’s getting out of here alive!”
“He recognized you. What’s wrong with him?” Loreto asked.
“He’s drunk. He’s a drunk,” Porter replied.
“How can you tell? Maybe, he just drinks during a performance.”
“He’s afraid of me,” Porter said as Traveller raised his thumb up to the stage technician and the music suddenly increased in volume. Porter listened as he sang,

I have a new lover,
She’s blowin’ my mind.
Her lips are so tender,
She makes me feel fine.

With the crowd dead quiet after the song, Porter turned to Loreto and asked, “Who is Jacki Daniels?”
“It’s a brand of whiskey,” she answered.
“That isn’t acceptable Benwarian behavior. Self pity isn’t tolerated. I’ll have to do something.”
When the concert ended, the auditorium went dark. “One more! Give us another song!” those in attendance shouted as they gave the band a standing ovation. Several in the crowd held up lighters. The flames quavered in the dark like fireflies.
After several moments a spotlight fell on Traveller. He was grasping the microphone with a fedora pulled down over his eyes. Not until the silence became complete did he launch into his final song, ‘The End’. When Porter heard Traveller sing the words, “Father I want to kill you,” and then, “Mother I want to kill you,” a wave of shock washed over him. Traveller’s scream of anguish made Porter realize that something profound had happened to Traveller since he had been on Earth.
The song ended with the lights going slowly out and Traveller hanging his head. The lights gradually brightened after the band had exited the stage.
Willy and Lori immediately turned around to talk to Porter. “Well,” Lori asked, “do you know him?”
“Undoubtedly. I desperately need to talk to him,” Porter replied. “Where are you staying?”
“Right near here, at the Luxury Inn,” Lori said. “We’re supposed to get together with the band tomorrow afternoon around twoish.”
“Great, I’ll arrange for high tea at one of the poolside terraces. See you then.”Chapter 46 - High Tea

Porter and Loreto arrived early to oversee high tea. Both of the South Africans paused to admire the beautiful setting. With its impeccable desire to please, the hotel staff had arranged a table on a terrace overlooking the rectangular pool. The blue water caught the sun and threw it back into the sky with sparkling reflections. An orange border of slate rock separated the bright blue pool from the green lawn. Yellow recliner chairs in regimented rows looked like banana soldiers lined up for inspection. Red hyacinths dotted the area with infiltrated color.
“A setting worthy of Benwar,” Porter complimented.
“Even better, a South African estate,” Loreto agreed.
“Let’s see to the kitchen,” Porter suggested. He took Loreto by the hand. When they entered the kitchen, the chef