Jonah Havensby

by Bob Bannon

  “Good morning,” she said to Jonah, then to Eric she added “Is everyone awake?”

  Eric put one arm up in the air with his thumb up.

  “Good,” she said. “Breakfast in ten.” Then she remembered. “Oh, Jonah, I washed the stuff you had on last night, since Eric had some things too. She was refolding some things Eric had jammed in his drawer and then closing the drawers. “I ran your sweater through the dryer, you know, just to freshen it up a bit.” She said pointedly. “They’re on the counter in the bathroom.”

  Jonah had completely forgotten he’d changed clothes. Mrs. MacIntyre either came in late last night or early this morning and collected some clothes. Jonah had never been so far away from the green gem since the moment the house exploded. It made him panic. He jumped up, nearly tripping out of the sleeping bag, and walked a little too quickly to the bathroom.

  He had nothing to worry about. There, next to his folded clothes, was his handful of change and the green gem. He sighed in relief. Then he noticed the folded clothes. He’d been balling things up and shoving them down into his backpack when he packed them, folded clothes looked odd. They reminded him of home.

  He picked up the sweater and smelled it. It smelled like fabric softener. It was a nice change. He felt the t-shirt. It felt much softer than when he air dried it. He wondered if he came over wearing his other set of clothes if the same thing would happen.

  Eric knocked on the open door. “Hey,” he said. “You take this bathroom. I’ll use my mom’s.”

  It took Jonah a moment to register what he meant. He was actually going to get to take a shower. That was an amazing concept.

  “Ten minutes,” Eric said, and walked down the hall.

  Jonah closed the bathroom door.

  The shower was amazing. He thought he’d never feel warm water again.

  When he finally dressed, in laundered clothes, and brushed his hair, with an actual brush, he looked at himself in the mirror. He felt like a whole new man.

  He opened the bathroom door just as Eric was rounding the railing to go downstairs.

  “Race you,” he said and took off running.

  They jostled for position down the stairs but Eric shouldered Jonah into the front hallway wall and made it to the kitchen well ahead of him.

  Eric sat at the small table where they had eaten tacos the night before. Jonah took the seat in front of him.

  “So how did everyone sleep?” Mrs. MacIntyre asked as she spooned out scrambled eggs onto the plates in front of them.

  “Fine, mom,” Eric said.

  “Just fine, thank you,” Jonah replied. There were those manners again. Mrs. MacIntyre glowed.

  She ruffled her hands through Eric’s hair. “Looks like it’s time for a haircut, maybe for the both of you.” She said pointedly to Jonah. “Maybe I’ll see if Sarah can fit you both in?” She asked.

  “No!” Eric commanded and brushed his hair back down into place.

  Mrs. MacIntyre had replaced the pan of eggs on the stove and was coming back to the table with a plate full of toast. “I think so,” she said.

  Jonah was lost in the conversation. He’d have to dodge the whole haircut conversation. There was no way he could find that much money.

  “Mom makes me go to La La’s, you know, that pink place across from Castors?” Eric said.

  Castors was a shoe store that sold every kind of sports shoe imaginable. Jonah remembered the hair salon directly across from it in the mall.

  “Isn’t that for girls?” Jonah asked.

  “Exactly,” Eric agreed.

  “They cut boy’s hair too. Now eat,” she said. “Jonah you should ask your father. Maybe I can get Sarah to fit you guys in on Monday after school.”

  “Um, okay. I’ll see.” Jonah said, for lack of anything better coming to mind.

  “So, what’s the Saturday plan guys?” She asked as she sat down with the newspaper and coffee.

  “We’re going to go hang at Jonah’s,” Eric said.

  Jonah’s eggs caught in his throat as he glared at Eric, his eyes huge with surprise and anger. Eric looked at him with a shrug as if to ask “What’s the big deal?” Jonah hoped Mrs. MacIntyre wouldn’t pick up on the exchange, but she seemed intent on the newspaper.

  “Oh, fun,” Mrs. MacIntyre said absently. “You’ll say hello to your father for me.”

  “Sure thing,” Eric replied, since Jonah clearly couldn’t speak, but his mother missed all this.

  “And Jonah will probably stay over here again, if that’s okay?” Eric asked.

  Again, Jonah glared.

  “Well, you know we love having you, Jonah,” she said, “but I want to make sure it’s okay, you understand. We’ll need permission this time.” She went back to her paper.

  The boys cleaned up the dishes and then raced up the stairs.

  Jonah neatly folded the t-shirt and sweatpants he wore last night and left them on the foot of the bed, then he rolled the sleeping bag and put it in the closet, which was stuffed with clothes and other gear. It was clear to Jonah that he had become accustomed to cleaning up before he left an area. Eric was busy tossing things into a backpack. Jonah wasn’t paying enough attention to see what any of it was.

  When they walked outside, Eric headed for the garage. He opened the garage door by a keypad on the side wall. The garage was actually very well kept. There was a tool bench, with a sparse supply of items, and some rakes and brooms, and a riding mower. The car would definitely have space to fit. There was a small staircase at the back that led to the second floor on the opposite side of the stairs outside.

  In the corner were two bicycles. The first was an electric blue, freestyle body shape with a low seat and raised handle bars. It was an expensive sports bike made of aluminum meant for competitive dirt-track racing. Jonah was duly impressed.

  The other was almost a polar opposite. It was still an expensive piece of equipment, but it had low handlebars and a high seat. It was clearly made for road racing. You could switch gears just under the breaks on the handles. “That’s my mom’s,” Eric said. “She bought these when she was on some kind of exercise kick. That only lasted a month. You can ride it.”

  “Cool.” Jonah said, adjusting the seat so he could ride it comfortably.

  XII

  The boys flew down the hill away from the house. Jonah learned to ride a bike when he was ten, but had never really gotten into it, having no destinations he was actually allowed to travel to. His father had set up strict boundaries around the house so he could only go about a quarter of a mile up or down the road. That gave him access to one side of forest or another. Of course he could walk around the woods in the back all he wanted, but that wasn’t really conducive to bike riding. He remembered the feeling being quite freeing and it gave him at least some sense of independence, but it quickly bored him. His bike was a very plain thing, pretty much just two wheels and a seat with no bells and whistles to speak of, quite literally. By the time he was a teenager, the bike mainly sat chained to the front porch.

  He found it interesting that the old saying was true; bike riding is something you never forget. Now they began to race each other through the empty back streets. Eric would pull ahead, so Jonah worked faster and he’d take the lead. They jockeyed for position for quite a while. Jonah didn’t know how to use the gears on the bike, so he relied on his own strength to push his advantage.

  When they reached the mall, Eric said they should pull in. Jonah fell back and followed. They went in the old entrance after Eric chained their bikes and were greeted with the whoosh of warm air from the vents at the entrance. Eric bought two bottles of water from a vending machine close to the doors.

  “So where is your warehouse?” Eric asked, handing Jonah the first bottle of water.

  “It’s just straight down Tremaine and then down Main Street and then it’s about four blocks on Third.” Jonah answered, taking a long drink from the bottle.

  “That’s a good area for hiding out,” E
ric commented. “Third Street is pretty much abandoned. I didn’t even know there was still anything over there.”

  They went out and got back on their bikes, each bike had a holder that snapped the bottles perfectly in place.

  As they rode, Eric let Jonah take the lead since afternoon traffic near Main was a little heavier. They stayed close to parked cars and curbs, but there wasn’t much opportunity to ride side by side.

  When they reached the alley that accessed the rear of the warehouse, Jonah stopped. Eric stopped right beside him looking at him quizzically. Jonah looked up the street, then down it, then scanned the surrounding windows, then he looked at Eric.

  “Force of habit, I guess,” he said and shrugged.

  He got off the bike and walked it down to the warehouse entrance, so Eric followed suit. Jonah surveyed each window he could see, So Eric helped in that also.

  “Dude, I don’t think anyone is around,” Eric said.

  “I know, but every time I start to think that, something weird happens,” Jonah responded.

  Eric momentarily wondered if he would be this paranoid if he was forced to be on his own and then bristled at the thought and pushed it away. He didn’t want to even consider it.

  Jonah walked behind the ramp and instead of using the kickstand, he gently laid the bike down near the little door.

  “Just in case someone drives by,” he explained.

  Eric understood, so he did the same.

  Jonah retrieved his pack from the little door and threw it over his shoulder.

  “That all you got?” Eric asked.

  “Yeah, except for the food. And I think I left a t-shirt up there,” Jonah said.

  They went up the ramp and Jonah took a running start at the dumpster and deftly climbed on top.

  “No. Way.” Eric said, punctuating each word.

  “C’mon,” Jonah said smiling. “It’s not that hard.”

  Eric took a running start but had to push off of the dumpster several times. He wasn’t used to compensating for the weight on his back from his own pack, which was at least half as heavy as Jonah’s.

  “I’m not going to get up there,” Eric said, slightly winded.

  “Throw me your backpack,” Jonah asked.

  Eric took his pack off and tossed it up on the dumpster. Jonah took it and moved it out of the way.

  “Now grab my hand,” Jonah said, holding his hand out.

  Eric took another running start at the dumpster and when he rose up on the sidebar he grabbed Jonah’s hand. Jonah pulled him the rest of the way up.

  “You do that every day?” Eric asked.

  “You get used to it,” Jonah said, tossing both packs through the window.

  “Careful with that,” Eric said. “There’s stuff in there.”

  “Sorry,” Jonah responded, climbing into the warehouse.

  When Eric was safely on the floor inside, Jonah returned his backpack to him.

  “Wow, this is cool,” Eric said, looking around at the heaps of debris and the long-rusted machinery.

  “C’mon,” Jonah said. “I stay upstairs.”

  Just then, there was a rustle from Gouchy’s nest. It startled Eric.

  “Relax,” Jonah said. “It’s just Grouchy. He’s kind of my downstairs neighbor.”

  Just then, Grouchy’s head came up, followed slowly by the rest of his bristly, scrawny body.

  “You know raccoons can be really dangerous,” Eric mentioned as they moved toward the stairs, not taking his eyes off the animal.

  “You don’t have to tell me that,” Jonah said. “He’s got a temper.”

  Once upstairs, Jonah dropped his pack and his tablet on the roll-top desk as usual. Eric set his down on the floor.

  “Seems safe enough,” Eric observed.

  “It seems that way, but…” Jonah said, handing Eric the notebook with the mysterious notes, then snagging his sink-washed t-shirt off the microphone on the control panel.

  Eric had the notebook in his hand, but was looking at the control panel. He flipped a few switches.

  “Does any of this stuff work?” He asked.

  “The lights and the clock work,” Jonah explained, “but that control panel and the machines downstairs seem like they got disconnected. I’m not too worried about it. I’d hate to turn something on in the middle of the night and have someone hear it.”

  Eric sat in the chair at the desk and Jonah leaned against the control panel. They went over exactly when the notes appeared and Jonah reiterated that he had heard absolutely nothing, but the pain the next morning definitely made him think he might have been drugged or something. He even went over the Zombie-Dad theory.

  “I don’t think it’s your dad,” Eric said. Even if he was all torn up, I think that would scare you less than leaving you creepy notes.”

  “Exactly what I thought,” Jonah agreed.

  They went over the notes and agreed that they were from three different people. One note was written outside the lines, one was neatly printed inside the lines and the others were written in a fancier print.

  “But how would they drug you?” Eric asked. “I don’t think they could necessarily gas you without you waking up and smelling it.”

  “Could be the food,” Jonah said, indicating the lemonade, bread, peanut butter and jelly on the floor.

  “But you said you’ve eaten it before, even during the day, and nothing happened,” Eric said.

  Jonah agreed, and got up to plug in the electric blanket as a chilly wind blew through the broken windows.

  “It works as kind of a heater,” Jonah explained. Then he asked “What’d you bring in your bag anyway?”

  Eric put the notebook on the control panel, lifted his bag and set it on top of the notebook. He unzipped it and brought out a small digital recorder. “I brought this so you know if anyone comes in when you’re sleeping or you’re not here or whatever. I figured you could hide it someplace.”

  He tossed it to Jonah, who looked it over and pressed the play button. Nothing was recorded, but the digital numbers on the side of it began to count upwards.

  “It has a voice-activation button, so it won’t record unless it hears something,” Eric said.

  Jonah looked for the button and nodded a confirmation. When he pressed it the numbers on the recorder stalled. A few seconds later he said into it, “Smart idea, wise guy.” And the numbers began to scroll again. A second later, it stopped in the silence.

  “And then there are these,” Eric said, bringing out two yellow walkie-talkies. They were high-end models, with protected antennas and a digital read-out that showed battery life and connectivity. He tossed one to Jonah.

  “What are they for?” Jonah asked.

  “Because you don’t have a phone, idiot,” Eric said into his walkie-talkie. The comment came through loud and clear on the one Jonah was holding. “Now if you need anything we can just use these.”

  “Is that going to work?” Jonah asked through his.

  Eric dropped his walkie-talkie back into the bag and said “I don’t know. They’re supposed to have a four and a half mile connection. I’ve never had the chance to test them out. They should work.”

  Jonah looked at the one in his hand and then put it on the desk. “They’re nice. They look expensive,” he said.

  “My dad’s pretty good with expensive,” Eric said offhandedly, and noticed the notebook on the panel with the note regarding Athena Stapleton. He reached for Jonah’s tablet on the desk. “We’re going to have to figure out how far you’re going to have to go to get to Clapton.”

  “I don’t even know where that woman would be,” Jonah said. “I don’t have an address or anything, just the city.”

  Eric turned on the tablet and waited for the internet to connect. He went to the White Pages site and put in the information that they knew. Three Stapleton’s came up on the listing for Clapton, only one had a first initial A. That was listed on South Clapton Boulevard. That sounded easy enough to find.r />
  “That’s gotta be it,” Eric said.

  Jonah agreed, but wondered if she might not be listed at all. It was his best, and only, option at the moment.

  Eric left the White Pages site and looked up a map of the area. There were three towns in the surrounding vicinity - Kensville, where they were, Clapton, which was a logging town that became known more for the college and hospital there, and Masonville, which was the largest of the three and situated on the coast. The map wasn’t extremely specific until you entered a starting address and an end point. He typed in their best guess at an address for Athena Stapleton and tapped a button that would create a route from their current position. Then he bookmarked it to the tablet.

  He looked up the bus route to Clapton that he had saved in Jonah’s tablet. Jonah would get on the bus at Main Street and travel all the way to Masonville, which Eric guessed was about a two-hour trip. Then Jonah would get a transfer and travel another hour and a half to Clapton. When he compared the bus route map to the area map, he found that the Jefferson Street stop in Clapton would be the closest to South Clapton Boulevard.

  It would be at least an all-day journey round-trip. Eric pointed out that Jonah could take the direct route and walk all day and night through the woods to get from point-A to point-B, but assumed that wasn’t really an option. Jonah completely agreed.

  “Like I said, It’ll still take at least ten bucks, even with transfers,” Eric noted.

  “Dude, there’s no way I can get ten bucks,” Jonah said.

  Eric unzipped the front of his backpack and pulled out a small wad of dollar bills and spilled out more than a handful of change. “That’s what this is for,” he said.

  “I can’t take your money,” Jonah said.

  Eric shrugged. “It’s just change I keep in my backpack, it’s not a huge deal,” he said.

  “But still...” Jonah started.

  “Dude,” Eric cut him off, “how else are you going to get there? It’d probably take two days to get there if you rode a bike.”

  He had a point. Jonah sat back defeated.

  Eric counted the change and grouped it when it added to a dollar. After a moment, there were four groups of coins and six dollar bills and some miscellaneous change. “So that’s ten dollars. Just about exactly enough,” Eric said as he put the four bills down on the control panel.