by Jean Fischer
From somewhere above them came the whirring of an engine. Bailey looked up expecting to see a small plane flying overhead, but nothing was in the sky.
“What’s that noise?” she asked.
“It’s coming from the lookout,” said Sydney as the crate lifted off the trailer and up into the air. “Mr. Wright has a gasoline-powered pulley up there. That’s what’s making the noise. It’s lifting the crate to the top of the lighthouse.”
Sydney and Bailey took turns with the binoculars watching the crate rise. Mr. Wright guided it over the top of the railing and set it on the narrow floor. Once it was safely secured, Captain Swain went inside.
“He’s going up by Mr. Wright,” said Sydney. “Now’s a good time to get your bike. You watch, and I’ll go this time.” She handed the binoculars to Bailey before heading up the narrow, brick path. When Sydney got near the door, she heard two men talking inside. She hid next to the porch and listened. One of the voices she recognized as the captain’s. The other was the younger voice they’d heard on the beach.
“She’s locked up in our equipment shed,” said the young man.
“Good,” said Captain Swain. “A job well-done, Drake, a job well-done.”
Digger! Sydney thought. He was on the beach with the captain.
“I’ve taken care of all the paperwork,” Captain Swain continued. “You won’t have to keep it a secret anymore. Tonight, I’ll help you fix the problem with the rudder. Then you’re on your way.”
“I’m nervous about people seeing it,” Drake answered.
“My boy, an anxious heart weighs a man down,” said the captain. “Just me and God talking to you.”
Sydney grabbed Bailey’s bike and rushed back to the bench. “Drake’s in there too!” she told Bailey. “They have someone locked in their equipment shed!”
“Who?” Bailey asked.
“I don’t know,” Sydney answered. “Drake said, ‘She’s locked up safe in our equipment shed.’”
“The lighthouse lady!” Bailey gasped. “They’ve kidnapped her.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Sydney answered as she laid Bailey’s bike on the grass. “Do you really think they’ve kidnapped her? And why would they do that?”
“What else did they say?” Bailey asked as she handed the binoculars to Sydney.
“Tonight, the captain is helping them fix some sort of problem, and then they’re leaving. The captain said that after that they’ll be on their way.” Sydney sat down next to Bailey.
“See,” said Bailey. “I am right. They’re aliens, and Captain Swain is helping them. They’re taking the lighthouse lady with them. She’s being abducted by aliens!”
Sydney watched while the Wrights and Captain Swain pried open the wooden crate. “Bailey, I still believe that there’s a logical explanation for all this. I just don’t know what it is yet.”
Bailey sighed. “So now what?”
“I think we need to go to the crab fest tonight. We can go to the Wright’s place when it’s dark out, and then we can see what’s going on.”
Up on the lookout, the men were lifting something out of the crate.
“It’s a big telescope!” Sydney said as she handed the binoculars to Bailey.
“They’re setting it up,” Bailey observed. “They’re attaching it to the railing up there. Now the captain is looking through it. He’s looking out at the ocean.” Bailey handed the binoculars back to Sydney. “I think they put it there so they can watch for the Mother Ship tonight.”
Sydney didn’t even bother to argue with Bailey about the alien idea. Mr. Wright was lowering the chain, and the empty crate dropped to the ground.
“I think they’re leaving,” said Sydney.
The girls waited to see what would happen next. Mr. Wright and Digger were the first to come out the front door. They walked across the grass to Schoolhouse Road. Then they turned west toward home. The captain came out next. He locked the door behind him and started down the front porch stairs. When he got to the bottom, he stopped.
“Oh no, my backpack!” said Bailey.
Captain Swain picked up the backpack and read the name on its ID tag: BAILEY CHANG. He looked around. Then he set the backpack on the lighthouse steps and drove away on his tractor.
Questions
Sydney’s grandparents agreed that the crab fest would be a fun activity for the girls. As they got ready to leave, Bailey flung her backpack over her shoulders.
“At least he didn’t take it with him,” she said. She was talking about what had happened that morning when Captain Swain saw her backpack by the lighthouse porch.
“I’d feel better if your name wasn’t on it,” said Sydney. “If Mr. Wright saw you looking through the window and described you to the captain, he might have put two and two together.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Bailey answered.
“Let me check in and see if any of the girls have sent anything,” Sydney said.
Sure enough, when she logged on the computer, she found a couple of notes on the private wall of the Camp Club Girls’ website.
Alexis: I watched an old TV show today and it made me think about your problem with the identity of Captain Swain. On the show, two grown-up cousins looked so much alike that they were mistaken for twins. Sometimes that happens—a family resemblance may be strong in several people, even if they’re not brothers and sisters, or children of the person they look like.
We know the original Captain Swain didn’t have any sons, so your Captain Swain couldn’t be his son. But maybe he’s a cousin of the original Captain Swain or something.
Kate: I’ve been thinking about Captain Swain too. Bailey, I’m like Beth—I don’t believe in ghosts. And ghosts don’t own property—according to the law, no dead people can own property. But I looked on the internet and found that there’s a Captain Swain with the address of Duck, North Carolina. When I googled Duck, I found out it’s just south of Corolla. So it sounds like your Captain Swain is a legitimate resident of the area!
“Sounds like one mystery is solved, anyway,” Sydney said.
“I don’t know,” Bailey said. “It sounds convincing, but I think I’m going to confront Captain Swain and ask him for myself.”
Sydney grinned. Sometimes Bailey was so dramatic!
“Well, come on,” Sydney said. “Maybe you’ll see him at the crab fest and you can ask him there!”
By the time the girls arrived in Corolla Village, the sun had just set. A crowd had gathered at the Corolla Village Bar-B-Q where glowing paper lanterns were strung from tree to tree. On the front lawn, steam rose from a huge, black pot over a fire. Two cooks from the restaurant dumped buckets full of crabs into the boiling water. Then they added Old Bay seasoning, ears of corn, onions, and small new potatoes.
“Yum, that smells good,” said Bailey. On a small stage, at the edge of the parking lot, the Wild Horse Band was playing a tune. Bailey grabbed Sydney’s hands and swung her around in time with the music.
“Woo-hoo! Let’s hear it for the crab fest!” Bailey squealed.
As the girls spun, Sydney glimpsed the Kessler twins arriving with their brothers and mom and dad.
“The twins are here,” she told Bailey when the music stopped. “We probably have to hang out with them, but we need to get away to investigate the Wrights’ place. Listen, don’t say anything about what we’re up to, okay? They can’t keep a secret.”
“Have they seen us?” Bailey asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Sydney.
“Then why don’t we go over to the Wrights’ now? We can see what’s going on and then come back here and hang out with the twins.”
Sydney agreed, and soon she and Bailey were walking up Schoolhouse Road in the direction of the sound. When they got to Persimmon Street, they saw a narrow, sandy road marked PRIVATE DRIVE.
“This must be it,” said Sydney. She remembered her grandmother saying the Wrights lived on a wooded, private road off Persimmon. “Gram
knows a potter who lives on this road, and the Wrights’ place is just beyond hers. It’s at the end of the drive, I think.”
The girls turned onto the sandy lane and walked along the edge of the woods.
“I wish we had a flashlight,” said Bailey. The only light came from porch lights along the way. The road was barely wide enough for two cars to pass, and it was deserted. Either all the residents were at the crab fest or they were inside their houses.
Bailey noticed that these houses weren’t like most others on the Outer Banks. These were old-fashioned, two-story cottages with narrow front porches and gabled roofs. They looked like they had been there forever.
Who-who-whooooo-who-who. A great-horned owl called from a distant tree.
“I feel like I’m back at Discovery Lake Camp,” said Bailey. “This place is spooky. It’s so dark and deserted. Syd, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Look. Here’s the potter’s house,” said Sydney. At the edge of the road, an old, tin mailbox sat atop a lovely statue of a mermaid. The name on the box said WILMA HEISER, POTTERY PLUS.
“The Wrights’ place has to be over there.” She pointed ahead to a sharp bend in the road.
“Listen!”
A loud rumble came from behind them. Some sort of vehicle had just turned off Persimmon Street and onto the private drive.
“Someone’s coming. We have to hide!”
Sydney grabbed Bailey and pulled her behind some tall bushes in the potter’s front yard. They could see the road.
Thud-thud … thud-thud … rumble … thud-thud … thud-thud … rumble … Whatever it was grew closer. It chugged along slowly, its headlights illuminating the sand. Soon, the girls saw a big, yellow wall. They could almost touch the school bus as it lumbered by, and in the darkness, they could barely make out the words:
LASERS
LEVITATING
ELEVATING
WRIGHT &
SON
ORIENTEERING
RACING
“It’s the Roswell bus,” Bailey whispered. She and Sydney watched it disappear around the bend at the end of the road. “What do we do now?”
“Let’s wait a few minutes,” Sydney answered. “Until we’re sure they’re inside.”
Soon the girls heard the sounds of hammering and sawing coming from the Wrights’ place. Cautiously, they walked to the bend in the road and, keeping in the cover of the trees, they got close enough to see the Wrights’ equipment shed. It was set about fifteen yards away from the grungy old house that Mr. Wright and Digger lived in.
The equipment shed was almost as big as the house, and its heavy front doors were wide open. A shower of sparks rained inside.
“Welding,” said Sydney. “They must be working on the whatever-it-is.”
An eerie, blue glow came from fluorescent lights hanging from the rafters, and a strong smell of hot steel wafted through the air.
The noise stopped for a few seconds. After a ghostly silence, the inside of the shed went dark.
“Look!” Bailey exclaimed. The shed lit up with flashing lights, first red, and then multicolored. “It’s the spaceship. Remember? I said that they were reconstructing their ship from parts Digger found on the beach. Now do you believe me?”
Sydney had to admit that they were looking at something very strange. “Let’s get closer so we can see what’s going on,” she said.
“I wish we had that listening thing Kate has,” said Bailey. “You know, that little gadget that lets you hear a conversation from a block away? Then we could know what’s happening without having to go right up to the building. Syd, do you think they have the lighthouse lady locked up in there?”
“I don’t know,” her friend replied. “But we’re going to find out.”
She took Bailey by the hand and they crept along the side of the road, careful to stay in the shadows. A soft whirring sound came from the shed now, and Sydney and Bailey made a wide circle, staying clear of the open doors. Then they tiptoed to the side of the shed, just below the window.
“I don’t think it’s safe to look inside just yet,” Sydney said. “We should listen for a while.”
She’d barely gotten the words out when the colored lights stopped and a bright, white light started to flash. One, two, three, four, five flashes. Then nothing. One, two, three, four, five more.
“It’s that code from Close Encounters of the Third Kind!” Bailey whispered. “That’s the light we saw in the ocean yesterday morning.”
The flashing stopped. For a few seconds, the shed went dark again. Then it was suddenly lit up by the overhead lights and the bluish fluorescent glow.
“Well, the signal lights work fine,” the girls heard Digger say. “I wish I could program the other lights to change color so opponents can disguise themselves. It would add more strategy to the battle. Imagine that you’re approaching a friendly craft, but when you get there, you find it’s an enemy craft disguised as a friend.”
The girls sat on the ground beneath the window with their backs pressed against the side of the building. Sydney could hear Bailey breathing fast and heavy. She felt her own muscles growing more tense.
Relax, Syd, she told herself. Think! There has to be a logical explanation.
Bailey whispered so softly that Sydney could barely hear her.
“Maybe they’re not trying to get home to their planet,” she said. “It sounds like they’re going to wage war on an enemy spaceship, or something. Syd, they’re planning a space war!”
“I doubt it, Bailey,” Sydney whispered back. “You know at the lighthouse they said something about Captain Swain helping with the rudder. A rudder is part of a boat. Could that be some sort of funky boat?”
“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Wright boomed out. The girls jumped. Then as he continued, they realized he wasn’t talking to them but to Digger. “But if I were you, son, I’d leave the lights alone for now. Save changing the colors for Phase Two. Hit ’em with what you’ve got. Then, after it takes off, surprise ’em with something even better.”
“I guess you’re right, Dad,” said Digger.
“See? They’re planning to strike with some sort of weapon,” Bailey whispered. “It probably has to do with that coffee mug thing that we found on the beach.”
Sydney was feeling very vulnerable sitting under the window. If anyone came along, they would surely see the girls. She noticed a brown tarp in the grass nearby. Staying close to the ground, she shimmied over and pulled it back to where Bailey sat.
“Here, let’s cover up with this,” she said, draping it over herself and Bailey.
“The noise problem is fixed now,” Mr. Wright was saying. “When these crafts are on the ocean at night, the folks near the beach won’t hear them. So there won’t be any trouble.”
“And I’ve got the hover fan working fine now,” said Digger. “As soon as the craft hits the beach, a blast of air lifts it off the ground, and you can go anywhere without it being heard.”
Bailey linked her arm with Sydney’s.
“That was the puff of air that we felt on the beach!” she said. “Drake Wright went past us in the dark with that thing just a few yards away from us. Do you think he saw us?”
“I’m almost sure of it,” Sydney answered. “Now we know the Wrights are responsible for those strange lights over the water.”
“I’m telling you, it’s a spacecraft!” Bailey insisted.
The word hover brought a picture in Sydney’s mind.
“Listen, Bailey!” she exclaimed. “The word hover … one day at home, I thought I saw something just floating around outside my window. When I looked out, it was a remote-controlled helicopter one of my friends was flying. Do you think this is some sort of remote-controlled device? Like a spaceship-shaped, remote-controlled thing?”
“No. How could they fly it in the dark?” Bailey said.
“I’m going to text Kate,” Sydney said, wiggling around to pull the phone out of her pocket. “She’ll be able
to tell us if it’s at least possible.”
Sydney had started texting when the sound of a hammer pounding against metal startled the girls. Digger said, “We need to get this rudder fixed. When that’s done we can load her up.”
The pounding started again.
“See, they do have the lighthouse lady,” Bailey said. “I hope she’s all right. They’re planning to load her onto the spacecraft.”
Sydney didn’t answer. Her mind was racing trying to come up with answers for her questions. “Test the spirits to see whether they are from God.” She remembered hearing her pastor preach about that in church. As Sydney sat there thinking, she believed more than ever that Mr. Wright and Drake Wright were not space aliens.
“You know if it’s some sort of boat—since rudders are part of boats—they always call boats ‘she,’” Sydney explained.
“Cap has the paperwork done and everything is in order,” Mr. Wright said. “It’s up to you now, son. You have to get it out there for the right person to see. Plenty of investors are vacationing in Corolla and the other subdivisions around here. If you show it around, surely you’ll find a backer or two.”
“Huh?” Bailey whispered to Sydney under the tarp. “What are they talking about now?”
“Beats me,” Sydney answered.
Listen, said a little voice in her head.
“We should just listen,” she told Bailey.
“You have to get the word out,” Mr. Wright continued. “I’m not going to help you this time, son. If you’re going to be successful, you need to get out there with people and show them what you’re up to. Why, think about our cousins. Some people thought they were crazy to keep jumping off cliffs with their flying machine, but they didn’t let that get to them. They kept at it, and today—”
“But, Dad,” Digger said, “I don’t think I can do it. Besides, I don’t mind keeping to myself. I like having time alone to wander and pick up stuff on the beach that we can sell to scrap yards. Last night, I found another doubloon for the Cap. He likes giving them to the kids at the lighthouse, you know.”
The girls heard a few more strikes of the hammer against metal.
