“Patient ’til when?” Joby complained.
Ander looked pensively out to sea again. “The falls up Burl Creek Canyon; be there at sunset. Don’t forget a flashlight. It’ll be a dark walk back. Whatever answers I can give, I’ll give you then.” He looked up toward town and sighed, “The punch card calls.” He splashed onto the beach and started heading toward the stairs.
“Ander!” Joby called.
“What?”
“What was the fish for?”
“Breakfast,” Ander said over his shoulder and shrugged. “The hotel food’s not so great.”
He went on then, leaving Joby to wonder if he’d planned to cook it on the beach, or . . . whether he was into sushi.
“Look at the mess!” Agnes shrieked. “Look there! They’ve broken my window! This is exactly what I knew would happen! I begged their parents to prevent this, but did anybody listen? NO!”
Karl certainly shared her outrage at this latest teenage crime spree, but her hysteria was beginning to grate a little. “I’m very glad you called me, Agnes, but—”
“I wanted you to see this, Karl! I wanted somebody who’s not a complete idiot to see what they’ve done to my house! It’ll take all day to clean this up! All week!”
“It’s atrocious, Agnes,” Karl commiserated. “Absolutely inexcusable. But they’re only digging their own graves, you know. I’m coming back here with a camera, and we’ll have pictures printed in the paper. Front page. That’ll garner even more support for getting some police protection here in town. You may not want to hear it, Agnes, but they’ve done you quite a favor here.”
“I don’t just want police here now!” she wailed. “I want a jail! That’s where these little criminals belong! I’m going to make sure you can’t buy an egg in this whole town without ID!”
“Calm down, Agnes,” Karl said. “We’re going to make them pay for this, but you’ve got to take the high ground. Show ’em we still have our dignity. Revenge is best served cold, you know.”
“Oooooh!” she blustered, struggling to master her frustration. “I’ll have to get a bigger freezer then.”
“That’s the spirit,” Karl said supportively. “Hit ’em with your sense of humor, Agnes. Show ’em they aren’t getting to you.”
“Ben! Ben, wake up!”
“Joby? What—Oh shit.” Ben clutched his head, and grimaced. “My mouth is full of sand. Where are we?”
“Ben, I just saw something. You’re never going to believe me, but I swear—”
“Keep it down, will ya?” Ben complained. “God, I’m totaled. Why’d you let me drink so much?”
“Me!” Joby objected loudly, wincing at the gong this revived in his own brain.
“I’m joking,” Ben growled. “Guess we overdid it, huh?”
“Ben, shut up and listen to me. I just saw Ander turn into a seal. I mean, the seal turned into Ander. And it’s not just him. Swami talks to animals. He did it right in front of me. How do you explain that? No one will answer any of my questions, but something unbelievable is happening here! Everywhere!”
For a moment Ben just stared at Joby, then, though it really hurt his head, he couldn’t keep from cracking up. “God, Joby! I knew you didn’t drink much, but what a neophyte! You must have the mother of all hangovers in history!” He lay back down on the sand, struggling not to laugh himself sick, literally.
“Goddamn it! I’m serious, Ben! I’m telling you the truth!”
This just made Ben laugh harder—an increasingly risky activity, given the condition of his stomach. He had no desire to embarrass Joby, but he couldn’t help it. The look on Joby’s face was so hilariously tragic.
“Fine! Laugh!” Joby said, kicking sand at Ben, which helped him stop laughing as it got into his eyes and mouth again. “Keep right on laughing when I’m dead tomorrow!”
“Quit it with the sand!” Ben griped. “What’s with all the being dead crap? If this is about Laura—”
“It’s got nothing to do with that,” Joby said, exasperated. “There are other things happening in the world besides you and me and Laura!”
That got Ben’s attention. “Since when?” he said, taking a second look at Joby’s expression and feeling suddenly more sober.
“Since about ten minutes ago,” Joby told him, looking as sober as a school-teacher, which, of course, he was.
“Okay,” Ben sighed. “So what happened again?”
“Look, Ben. I know how crazy this sounds, but if you won’t trust me, who’s going to? I really need you to believe what I’m telling you, okay?”
Ben took a deep breath, trying to suppress all the nasty sensations sloshing through his insides as he sat up again. “Tell it to me a little more coherently,” he said.
“I was just sitting out there on the rocks, watching a seal hunt the swell for fish,” Joby said gravely. “But when it swam to shore and came out of the water, it wasn’t a seal anymore. It was this kid I know in town named Ander. He was still holding the fish.”
Ben just stared at Joby, no longer laughing. Last night had been hard on both of them. Now Ben wondered if he’d grossly underestimated how hard it had been on Joby. “He was wearing a wetsuit, I assume?” Ben asked.
“Of course,” Joby said. “He’d freeze out there without it.”
“He got dark hair?” Ben asked.
“Yeah. You’ve met him?” Joby said, surprised.
“No,” Ben said. “I’m just imagining the kind of guy who’d look like a seal until he came out of the water.”
“You think I didn’t think of that?” Joby asked crossly. “It was a seal’s head I saw out there, Ben. There’s no fur on Ander’s face, and his nose is nowhere near that big. Besides, he stayed under water for five minutes at a time, and swam faster than a Jet Ski.”
“The kid’s spent all his life in the surf.” Ben shrugged. “He’s a great swimmer with impressive breath control.”
“I mean literally faster than a Jet Ski, Ben. Under water.” Joby rolled his eyes. “Listen, I’d be telling myself everything you’re saying, because I know it’s impossible as well as you do, except for one thing. When I confronted him about it, he told me to tell no one, then told me to hike up to the Burl Creek falls at sunset tonight, where he’s promised to give me some answers.” Joby leaned back and spread his hands. “Explain that.”
“Why not just tell you now?” Ben said, perplexed.
“Good question,” Joby said pointedly.
“He said not to tell anyone? That’s . . . pretty weird.”
“He said they’d only think I was crazy,” Joby said, folding his arms and looking accusingly at Ben. “I told you anyway, because I trusted you.” Joby’s smug expression faltered. “And because I have no idea why I’m supposed to go all the way up there at night to get the answers. I thought that someone I could trust should know where to go looking for my body if I don’t come back.”
“Hold on, pal!” Ben protested. “You don’t really think you’re goin’ up there without me, do you?”
“So you believe me now?” Joby said, hopeful.
“I don’t believe some guy really turned into a seal,” Ben snorted. “But I do believe you’ve stumbled into some kind of very weird shit, and, frankly, I think you’re an idiot for going up there at all.”
“I need some answers, Ben,” Joby said earnestly. “If I don’t go up there, I may never get them. Like I said, this isn’t the first weird thing I’ve seen here, and . . .” He looked distressed again. “These people are my friends, Ben.”
“You think,” Ben interjected.
“These are my students and my neighbors,” Joby insisted. “I’ve seen them every day for three years, and they’ve treated me better than anyone I’ve ever known except for you and Laura. I can’t believe they’d hurt me, but I do have to know who, or what, they really are. I can’t just go on here pretending not to care. Not now.”
“Yeah, well, like I said,” Ben pressed, “I think you’re an idiot, but id
iots like company, and if you think I’m gonna sit here on my hands tonight waiting for the news at eleven, you really are crazy. What good are answers if you’re dead?” Ben grinned wickedly. “Or beamed up for a rectal probe on Pluto? This could be dangerous, dude!”
“But, if you come with me,” Joby pressed, “how will anyone know what happened if neither of us comes back?”
“We’ll leave a note, bright boy. That’ll do at least as much good as I’d have done you here.” He felt a winsome smile spreading on his face. “Just like old times, eh, Joby? Two knights off to combat supernatural evil?” It made him almost giddy with delight. “Only this time, it’s real! How cool is that?”
When Ferristaff answered his front door to find Agnes Hamilton on the porch, he barely managed to suppress a groan. Had he not been subjected to enough harassment? Sadly, as she was the single largest owner of commercial properties in Taubolt, and its single biggest pain in the ass as well, he felt compelled to be courteous. The last thing he needed was to end up on her wrong side too.
“Hello, Robert,” she said, offering him her signature grimace of a smile.
“Hello, Agnes,” he replied. “To what do I owe this unexpected honor?”
“You’re too kind,” she said. “I just came by to offer my condolences.”
“Regarding?” he asked, concerned that some new disaster had occurred of which he hadn’t been informed yet.
“That poor young man who was crippled by the tree spike,” Agnes said.
Thank God, he thought. Old news. “Well that’s very kind of you,” he said aloud.
“Actually, I’d like to donate some money to his family,” she said. “Just to help them through until they get back on their legs.”
What a tasteless choice of words, he thought, trying not to smile.
“I wasn’t sure where to send it,” she explained, “and thought it might be easiest just to give it to you personally. May I come in?”
The urge to smile left him, but he could hardly say, I’ll just take the check, good-bye. “Yes! Please do,” he said aloud.
“Thank you, Robert,” she said, brushing past him. “My, what a lovely house you’ve built! I adore the look of finished wood.”
“There is no substitute in my opinion,” he concurred pleasantly, ushering her into the living room, where she took a seat. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“No. I won’t be staying long.”
The urge to smile returned.
“Actually,” she said, getting out her checkbook, “there was one other issue I was hoping to discuss.”
The urge to smile vanished.
“I’ve penned a short letter to the county sheriff, asking that he give more careful consideration to our request for local law enforcement.” Her pen paused above the check. “To whom do I make this out?” she asked.
“James Moss,” Ferristaff said politely, wondering if she really thought writing a check to some employee of his was going to move him to her cause. “No, wait,” he said. “Better make it out to Alice Moss. It may be a while before Jim can cash it very easily.”
“Of course,” she said, scribbling in the remaining details and reaching up to hand the check to him.
Covering his surprise at the five-figure amount, he said, “That’s very generous.”
“Contrary to popular opinion,” she said, grimacing another smile, “I can be very generous, where generosity is deserved.” She put away her pen and checkbook. “As I was saying, I suspect my letter might get more attention if it were clear that I’m not speaking solely on my own behalf, so I’m inviting a number of other influential members of the community to sign it. Quite a few of Taubolt’s business people already have.”
Of course they have, thought Ferristaff, you’re their landlord. Though he didn’t doubt that many of them had signed it willingly enough. He, himself, had managed, until now, to dodge this issue, having learned long ago that inviting law enforcement in the door could cut both ways. Not all of his own men were scrupulous law-abiders, as that damn circus in September had demonstrated.
“I thought, especially after what’s been done to your poor Mr. Moss, that you might want to sign it too, Robert. I’m sure it must frustrate you terribly that the perpetrators of that heinous crime are still at large.”
“There’s only one perpetrator,” Ferristaff said. “And I know damn well who she is, pardon my language.”
“Not at all, Robert,” she replied. “I assume you mean that Greensong woman.”
“Of course I do,” Ferristaff growled. “And to be honest, Agnes, I’m not sure why the expense and effort of importing an entire standing police force should be required to subdue one twiggy little ecoterrorist. There are investigators working on it, and when they find the evidence to prove what everyone already knows, they’ll have no trouble coming out here to arrest her.”
“That assumes, of course, that you are correct in assuming it was her,” she said.
“Who else would it be?” he asked, careful to keep the scorn from his voice.
“As your flyer intimated,” Agnes sighed, “the woman has attracted quite a few youthful disciples. Two of them were with her during that . . . unfortunate event last month, weren’t they? Could none of them have been involved?”
“I have no reason to suspect that mere children—”
“I am not referring to mere children,” she cut him off with startling sharpness. “There are some very nasty creatures roaming this pleasant little town in children’s clothing, Robert, but they are in no way mere children. They’ve inflicted countless acts of truly hateful vandalism on many of our shop owners, and regularly terrorize their customers in broad daylight. Just last night they virtually demolished my own house.”
Ah! Ferristaff thought dryly. He’d read her little letter to the editor, and he thought her more brainless than blameless there.
“I see no reason to assume that driving spikes into a handful of your trees would be beyond them. Not at all,” she said, seeming sure she’d made her point. “Were there any real threat of consequences here, I think we might see a very significant decrease in the troubles that increasingly plague us all.”
He was drawing breath to express polite condolences about her house, and demure her request, when a horrendous crash caused them both to spin and stare in shock at the scattered shards of glass that remained of one of his large picture windows, and the large rock resting at the center of the mess.
“Goddamn her!” Ferristaff raged, running to the shotgun he now kept by his front door, then racing outside in hopes of settling this escalating nonsense in the good old-fashioned way. He found no one to aim at, of course. The woods around his property were as still and silent as ever. “Greensong, you bitch!” he shouted. “I know it’s you! Everybody knows! Your butt is bound for prison any day now!” Unable to contain his rage, he fired both shells into the trees, hoping for a scream. But there was nothing. When he turned around, he found Hamilton standing on his porch, looking gallingly self-satisfied. “What the hell,” he spat. “Put me on your roster. I’ll sign the damn letter.”
“I’m so sorry about your window, Robert,” she commiserated. “But I do appreciate your help. I’ll send the letter by tomorrow.”
“Gonna do some painting,” Cotter explained with an uncomfortable grin, shoving two gallons of paint thinner onto the counter. “Time to spruce up the mission a little.”
“Looks like you’ll be sprucin’ up things more’n a little.” Franklin grinned, trying to be friendly, though Cotter had always given him the creeps.
“Gonna take a lot of painting, that old place,” Cotter said defensively. “Inside and out, you know.”
“Outside too!” Franklin said, trying to sound impressed. “Gotten that past Hamilton’s Preservation Council, have you?” He gave Cotter a sympathetic smile to show he understood how trying that must have been.
But Cotter shook his head, and said, “That’s next on my list to do.”
“Oh,” Franklin said, nonplussed, as Cotter paid him. “After the thinner?”
“Well . . . I can’t get the paint ’til the Preservation Council tells me what color’s okay, now can I?” Cotter sputtered irritably.
“Hey,” Franklin apologized. “Didn’t mean to pry, friend. Just makin’ small talk.”
“No harm done,” Cotter said, leaving with his thinner, but forgetting his change.
26
( Revelation )
As twilight approached, Joby and Ben finally heard the falls ahead of them, having walked for half an hour in apprehensive silence.
“Maybe I should go up first and check things out,” Ben suggested quietly.
“Yeah,” Joby teased uneasily. “Then they can knock us off separately.” He looked up into the woods overhanging the path; always so peaceful and picturesque before, they seemed full of lurking shadows now. “If they want to hurt me, they’ve had years to do it. . . . I just hope Ander shows up at all when he sees you.”
They crested one last rise and stood looking down on the ferny hollow into which Burl Creek plunged in lacy veils. A primitive wooden bridge spanned the pool beneath it, and, leaning heavily against the bridge’s railing, stood the last person Joby had expected. Father Crombie looked up at them, and waved.
“What are you doing here?” Joby called.
“How’d you get here?” Ben added, before the old man could answer.
“Waiting for you, of course. And rather carefully,” Crombie said amiably.
Unsure whether to feel relieved or dismayed that even Father Crombie was involved, Joby said, “I was expecting—”
“Ander,” Crombie finished with a kindly smile. “I know. But it was decided I might be the better messenger, given our long acquaintance.” As Joby and Ben descended toward the bridge, Crombie’s smile faded. “You boys look as if I were a ghost.”
The Book of Joby Page 55
