61 ∞ total recall

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Summary of the story thus far: 

Danny has fallen in love with Mickmi, the girl from another Earth who has amnesia. They know that they are being watched by agents who are trying to determine if Mickmi is an ET. Danny has been trying to help her to recover her memory, but been successful only with small increments. However, after walking into a bank robbery yesterday where a girl claimed to be Mickmi's sister but whom Mickmi doesn't remember, Danny wonders whether this will trigger her memory.

Selina, the blonde guide and guardian who has been distracting the agencies that are searching for Mickmi, is riding Mickmi's ship (the one that crashlanded in the lake) which is being towed to a secret base in the Nevada desert by the black ops team run by Apocalypse.

Weaver is a rogue covert CIA operative who was 'recruited' by Selina to watch over Mickmi to give her time to remember. He agreed to do this, thinking that he would be able to bring in the real alien who came with the ship, when Mickmi recovers her memory.

In the previous chapter, Weaver's partner Dawson gets suspicious of Weaver's actions (which includes talking to Danny and slipping something in his pocket), so Weaver ends up killing him.

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[NOTE: Trigger warning for PTSD.]

Day Sixteen ∞ 1 a.m. Saturday morning, August 25, 1979

DID HE TELL SIS ENOUGH? Would anything he said even be enough?

Danny froze with the toothbrush between his molars, staring vacantly ahead.

If you want to be safe, then listen, the voice replayed in his head. If not, you and your... girl – will – be – dead.

If he were to believe that man, then nothing would be enough. There was no way he could keep both his family and Mickmi safe.

We've got to go to the police. 

He'd tell Sergeant Eldon that he and Mickmi had received death threats because they were witnesses, get him to put them into protective custody, and order regular patrols on their street. Preemptive action. That was the best bet they had.

They could do that first thing in the morning.

The thought gave him a measure of reassurance, having at least some plan in place. He finished brushing his teeth and rinsed his mouth. As he put the toothbrush back in its holder, he caught sight of his jeans through the mirror—hanging on the door, mocking him.

He'd brought drugs home. If Mom ever gets wind of this...

He spun around and grabbed the little plastic bag from his pocket. Turning to the toilet, he started tearing it open, crumpled flakes of dry marijuana leaves spilling into the water below. A whiff of the pungent smell caught his nose, causing him to sneeze twice. It was when he opened his eyes that he glimpsed something else in the pouch besides the paper. He paused, turning it over.

Hair?

Opening the pouch wider, he pulled out the paper with the protruding hair and emptied the remainder of the weed into the toilet. Then he slowly unfolded the paper.

A long lock of maybe a dozen strands unfurled itself between his hands and hung from its taped end in gentle waves.

He stared at it. He didn't get it. Why would the man give him something like that?

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