THE PRICE OF WENDY

Chapter 1

WILLY GOODWILL stood still, wearing a dark blue beanie and a worn out green jacket, listening to the night. Dogs barked at a distance.

He had hoped that there would be no rain; He couldn't stand the rain, the wet cold nights: That could inevitably spell a long sleepless night for him, because all the best places were already taken by the other more established homeless people.

He was relatively a new homeless man in the vicinity.

He casually felt his broken nose, it was beginning to be caked with dried blood. He was just recently, earlier today, been in a fight with a bunch of the others, the low-lifers, the scums. He knew it would soon swell.

He had, on the previous day stood staring at his own reflection at a shop window, wondering who he really was. He seemed to know a lot of things, but how did he get here and where did he come from? Did he have a family, a mom, a dad, or even brothers and sisters?

What about a wife and kids? Did he have those too? He had wondered who she was, if he had one. If he had a wife, was she pretty?

It was the great New York City. It was the year 2015:

Willy was a homeless man and he was of about 6 foot 1 in height, he had a medium build, black hair and dark eyes.

He was suffering from amnesia and could not remember his age nor his past, but most people would readily agree that he was in his late twenties range.

The memories of the bulk of his entire life was shrouded in a deep mystery, even more to himself.

Ironically the only thing that he could remember all too well was a name, his name. It was just his name: Willy Goodwill. And that sure was plenty strange, to anyone. But Willy did not think that it was strange, he just knew. Just as simply as how the birds knew that it was time to fly South when winter approached: He likewise instinctively knew that, his name was Willy Goodwill.

His unshaven face had prickly stubbles that screamed for a fresh, sharp razor.

He heard someone cough and he turned.

That was when he caught sight of the Stranger: He was plainly dressed, just like him. He had the same height and was medium build like him.

But, he was holding a grocery bag containing food. Not plain food, or the scraps. It was more like rich heavenly food: A packet of chicken and fries, hamburger and some other fancy food. The smell was too much for Willy; He felt faint with hunger as he watched the Stranger go past him.

A whiff of that delicious smell: It was just enough to make an empty stomach growl with bitterness.

All of a sudden the guy turned and grinned at Willy: A perfect grin.

The strange man’s face was long, thin and bony, as if it was depleted and devoid of fat.

Than suddenly, the Stranger said something that was equivalent to heaven:

“You can have these,” the Stranger held the grocery bag of food towards Willy.

It was all too good to be true. Willy cringed suddenly thinking that it was a trick: He was self conscious, he already had a broken nose to contend with.

The guy came closer and held the grocery bag much closer to Willy, within Willy’s reach—

“It’s not a trick Willy take it,” the Stranger said.

“Wha-what — You know me?!" Willy enquired overly surprised.

“Yes,” the Stranger smiled calmly at Willy, it was a soft smile.

“Follow me and see something,” the Stranger added as soon as Willy hesitantly took a hold of the grocery bag of food.

The urgency in the man’s tone of voice was way too much, way too compelling for Willy to just simply ignore; it was hook line and sinker. Willy followed while gulping down the food hungrily at the same time. It was the taste of Heaven, supposing that there was a Mac Donald’s in Heaven.

They had now reached an abandoned alley way, the Stranger made sure that they were alone, he then placed his right open palm on the red brick wall and Willy's eyes nearly popped out of his head in utter amazement!

.  .  .  .  .

A brilliantly lighted doorway made out of pure energy had appeared.

The Stranger was about to enter it.

Willy Goodwill wanted to turn around and run away fast, in fear!

But the Stranger’s long arm snaked out the dazzling lighted doorway of energy and grabbed Willy, pulling him inside: The hand was amazingly strong.

Once inside, the bright energy doorway just disappeared!

Willy’s eyes now pulsated, adjusting to the bright room.

Now the Stranger—The Stranger was no longer in the plain outfit, in a flash he was in a black tuxedo and black hat, smoking an impressive Cuban cigar. Willy was lost at how lightning fast it all was, how was the transition possible all at once?

Willy did not see any visible changing rooms, and it would’ve taken the Stranger at least a few minutes to change or transition into the new suit and tie.

The Stranger seemed older than Willy Goodwill by a decade plus, about fortyish.

Willy noticed in the bright room that the Stranger had brown hair and dark eyes.

“About that, I’m Sorry Willy,” he said and he held his hand towards Willy for a handshake, but Willy held back his hand nervously, almost choking with fear.

“Anyway,” said the Stranger pulling back his hand. He shrugged and spread his arms grandly.

“Name’s Oswald Wayne,” he tipped his hat politely.

“You must be wondering why I brought you here and who I work for, well shouldn’t you be enlightened?” Oswald added.

Willy noticed for the first time that he had dropped the food he was eating on the floor, strangely he was no longer feeling hungry.

“House service will clean that up,” Oswald nodded at the mess.

He added urgently, “Now let's go into the next room, shall we? — I will explain to you everything that you need to know once we are in there.”

Oswald turned to lead the way, another bright energy doorway had just appeared.

He turned his face to the seemingly rigid, reluctant Willy and added, “Unless you wish to be all alone, all left alone in here when the lights go off, if not than I must advise you strongly to pick up a quick pace behind me — or else.”

Oswald grinned to see Willy making, a head start behind him as they made entry into the next bright room.

.  .  .  .  .

The next room was as bright as the previous, but larger and contained a large machine of some sort:

“Ta-dah!” Oswald Wayne the Stranger spread out his arms and added, gesturing grandly at the humongous machine.

“The Stress Harvester,” the Stranger announced.

“What does it do?" Willy found his voice for the first time.

“As the name suggests, it harvests the collective stress and all the other negative collective emotions,” the Stranger Oswald smiled at Willy.

“Who's stress and negative emotions?” Willy queried.

“The people of this world, their stress and their negative emotions,” Oswald said with a hand gesture.

Willy's mouth gaped in surprise, he was speechless, momentarily lost beyond words; As far as he could possibly remember and credits be to his amnesia he couldn’t remember much; he had never seen anything much like these.

Even before he could ask what all the stress were harvested for, like clockwork the Stranger plainly answered him, “It’s for energy.”

For what? the next question automatically popped up in Willy's frantic mind. To power up the city of New York? Is that what it was all about?

As if reading his mind, gesturing upward. The Stranger eyed Willy and said, “For world's beyond.”

“Are you saying—” Willy stammered,

“That Aliens do exist?” the stranger finished Willy's sentence for him and added his own. “The grand answer to your question is, affirmative. It’s a big YES they do exist, but threading carefully behind the scenes of course.”

Willy had yet, another thriving question, this time he asked without waiting for the Stranger to speak for him, he asked without further hindrance or hesitation, “And why haven't they made any first contacts all these eons and eons of years?”

It was an innocent enough query itself.

“Because, unfortunately it should be exactly as how it is. It should not be as the way you think it should be, or it will unduly spoil the ultimate fun,” the Stranger Oswald gestured at the strange machinery.

Willy realized that it was supposed to be ironically humorous: A sick joke, probably it was a humorous notion amongst the aliens.

Willy felt nothing less than probably the next possible urge would be to urinate his pants should things unexpectedly go South.

The nagging question just beneath Willy’s mind was: Who really was the Stranger Oswald Wayne?

The puzzle seemed to only deepen by unexpected degrees: Willy was already in the mire and the only way was for him to see what’s beneath.

.  .  .  .  .

Staring at Willy’s puzzled face the Stranger smiled, “Don’t worry you will soon understand.”

And he added, dropping the next bombshell without as much as a thought, he added, “Now do you want to be an agent?”

“An agent?!" Willy asked incredulously bewildered.

“To be like me,” the Stranger nodded and made an elaborate gesture.

“Ye-yes,” Willy stammered. “Of course.”