​     Trevor said nothing. ​Really, he felt nothing. In his mind, his perceptions reverted back to when he was a pre-teen, and the adult world was something he looked on as something of a joke, as a not-particularly interesting reality show called Reality. He didn't bother to ask who Gramps was or why he'd shown up in the basement right when he did or why they pulled into a motel parking lot or exactly what Gramps planned to do once they got inside the motel room. 

     Whatever. It was dark in there, yet still there was enough illumination for Trevor to see a bed, a nightstand, a chair. 

     "Do you want me to turn on a light?" Trevor asked.  

     "Not for the moment," Gramps replied. 

     And, oh man, there was a stink in that room, too, a stink to make Trevor gasp, a stink like something rotting and muddy and metallic. 

     Trevor couldn't keep his eyes off the heap of...of...of what? that sat in the chair. It was, more or less, the size of a normal human being, perhaps a bit smaller, but...was that a chunk of metal sticking out its side? Trevor also saw what looked to be a fair-sized rock extend from where its hip would normally be.   

​     Man, he was having a crazy morning.

     And then the twisted heap moved, and Trevor just about jumped out of his skin.

     Damn, it was alive. 

     Gramps spoke to the heap. "Adam this is Trevor, Trevor Harper."

     To Trevor, Gramps said, "Trevor, I'd like you to meet Mr. Adam Forwarder."

END OF CHAPTER TWO

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