Winston came into the bedroom, and Abby couldn't help but gasp. 

      "I knew that's how you'd act," Alison said. 

     "Well, honey, you..." 

     Winston looked old enough to be Alison's grandfather.

     He was, easily, twenty years Abby's senior.  

     He kept his gray hair and beard well trimmed. He wore clean and well pressed jeans, loafers, and a casual button up shirt. He looked pale in a manner that suggested blood didn't get to every part of his body the way it had years before.

     He took in both Gramps and Abby with a single glance, then crossed to Abby. 

     "You're Patty's mother," he said. "I caught the resemblance immediately." 

     "Her name isn't Patty." 

     "That's what we call her here." 

     They shook hands. Then Winston turned to Gramps. "And you're..." 

     "I'm Alison's grandfather." 

     "You're Gramps. Patty calls you Gramps." 

     "I'm not sure you appreciate the situation we're all in here," Gramps replied. 

     Winston held out his hand to be shook. "I'm pleased to meet you, Gramps. My name is Winston." 

     "He's trying to be civil, Dad," Abby said. 

     "I know what he's trying to do." 

     "We're probably going to have to hurry this up," Winston said. "You caused quite a ruckus just now, Gramps, at our front door." 

     "We..." 

     "You manhandled one of our members." 

     "We didn't have time to waste with some..." 

     "You mentioned a moment ago about my not understanding the gravity of the present situation. I believe it's possible I know more than you might imagine. In any case, I believe it's time we all leave." 

​     "You..." 

​     "Now." 

     "We..." 

     "Reality has torn itself right down the middle for the last couple of years," Winston said. "Everyone's terrified, and everyone's so paranoid they're...Someone's probably putting in a call to some authority even we speak. Please, let's go."  

                                                    CONTINUE