by Jon McGoran
He ran to catch up with me. “What are you going to get at the store?”
Then another voice behind us called out, “Sammy, what are you doing? I told you to wait on the steps.”
Sammy turned and shrugged. “You took too long.” Then he looked up at me and said apologetically, “That’s my brother, Andrew.”
“Who are you?” Andrew asked, scanning me up and down. I felt suddenly self-conscious about the mud on my pants, my mussed-up hair.
He was about my age. Big and athletic. Actually kind of cute, except for the way he seemed to be judging the state of my clothes.
“I beg your pardon?” I said, putting a little ice on it.
“Sorry,” he said, smiling now as he looked closer at me. “I’m Andrew. I hope this one isn’t bothering you.”
“No, he’s fine,” I said. I turned and started walking again.
“This is Jimi. She’s from the city,” Sammy said, walking alongside me again. I got the sense he was bragging, since he had discovered me.
Andrew caught up with us, eyes almost as wide as Sammy’s had been. “Are you really?”
I was starting to regret having engaged the little guy. Things were getting a bit too involved. “Yes.”
He laughed. “What are you doing here?” Then he looked at me, vaguely confused. “Are you here for Game Day? The storm mostly missed us, so the fair’s still on tonight.”
“No, I’m just looking for the market.”
“Really?” Now he looked really confused. “Well, here it is.” We were approaching a tiny storefront. PRATT’S MARKET was painted on the window. The lights were on, and inside I could see food, a first aid section, even some camping supplies. A sign said OPEN TILL ELEVEN, but there was a piece of paper taped to the door, with big letters: CLOSED FOR THE FAIR. BACK AT 9:30.
“We’re headed to the fair,” Andrew said, pointing down the street. Most of the lights I had thought were coming from the retail district were actually from the football field down the block. Now that I was closer, I could hear live music and the murmur of a crowd. I could also smell food cooking.
“Everybody’s there, even Pratt,” he said, a wry smile twisting his lips. “Why don’t you come along and then you can buy your stuff afterward, when he reopens.”
“Um . . .” I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to nine. I looked back at the gate, thinking I should let the others know what was going on, but worried it would look suspicious if I left and came back. And it seemed like I would generate more attention if I was the only person in town not at the fair than if I just went and blended in.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s just up the block.”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Yay!” Sammy clapped his hands.
Andrew stepped up on my other side. Close. He smelled of soap and aftershave. “So, what in the world brings you to Pitman?”
“It’s a long story.”
He flashed a smile that was artificially shy, but somehow still charming. I felt myself blushing. “I bet it’s fascinating,” he said. “I’d love to hear it.”
Sammy looked up at him, like, What the heck are you guys talking about?
I just smiled. Then we were there.
FIFTY-TWO
The football field had a stage at one end and food stands and carnival games around the edges. The center was filled with adults talking over the music and laughing, while little kids chased around their parents’ legs. The field was damp from the rain.
The band on stage was playing classic rock standards, and Andrew tapped my arm and pointed. “With any luck, we might have missed the boring part—the speakers!”
Sammy tugged at my shirt. “Our dad is the mayor!”
“Wow,” I said, suddenly concerned but trying to sound impressed.
Andrew put his hand at the small of my back. “Can I buy you a chili dog?” he asked, gently steering me toward the food tables.
My stomach practically grumbled the words: Yes, feed me something!
I thought about Rex and Pell and Sly, out there in the woods—cold, wet, and hungry. I felt guilty, but my not eating wasn’t going to make them any less hungry.
“Sure,” I said. “That’d be great.”
He ordered two chili dogs and two sodas, then turned to look at me.
I smiled and he smiled back, letting it linger. I couldn’t look away, but the more I stared back at him, the more I seemed to be saying something I didn’t mean to be saying.
He finally turned away when the food was ready.
“Thanks,” I said as he handed me mine, careful not to meet his gaze.
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied. His attempt at sounding suave was torpedoed by Sammy’s voice whining, “Andrew, where’s my chili dog?”
Andrew’s eyes flashed with anger for an instant, then he ruffled Sammy’s hair and turned back to the vendor to order another chili dog. He handed it over with a syrupy smile. “Here you go, buddy,” he said.
Sammy took a big bite, then ran off, leaving a trail of chili as he joined a group of other kids his age chasing each other across the field.
Andrew and I walked and listened to the band as we ate our chili dogs. He said hello to about half the people we passed and tried to introduce me, but I just smiled tightly and looked away, concentrating on finishing my chili dog without spilling any on my shirt. I was still hungry when I was done, but I didn’t want to spend any money, and I definitely didn’t want to ask Andrew to buy me another one.
The crowd was festive, and there was a warm, small-town friendliness, old-fashioned and reassuring. It made me feel somehow nostalgic, even though nothing from my life had been anything like it. It was like something from a past that I wished I’d had.
Even the flare burning in the sky seemed somehow comforting, at least until a whiff of sulfur and ammonia reminded me that it wasn’t a hearth or a campfire; it was an illegal coal-well rig, unsafe and unsound.
I looked at my watch and felt a sudden wave of anxiety. It was a quarter past nine. I’d been in Pitman for forty-five minutes. I was so close to where Del was supposed to be, and instead of making progress, I was eating a chili dog at a town fair. I felt even guiltier as I thought about the others, waiting out in the woods.
I relaxed a little when the band announced they were going to play one last song after a few words from the head of the chamber of commerce. As a smart-looking older woman in a suit took the stage and began talking, a couple in their late forties approached us. They had an oddly artificial polish, like successful Realtors or TV newspeople, or like local politicians. I realized it was Andrew’s mom and dad, the mayor and his wife.
The man had a WellPlant, so they weren’t hurting for money, even in this little town. The woman didn’t have one, for what that was worth. Their focus was on Andrew, but they were giving me sidelong glances, making it plain they were wondering who I was.
“There you are,” the man said to Andrew. “I assume the dishes are done?”
Andrew rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad. And the trash is out.”
“And Sammy dried the knives and forks?” the woman asked.
“And he put away his toys. He’s running around somewhere.”
Onstage, the woman from the chamber of commerce was talking about Pitman’s bright future.
Andrew said, “This is Jimi.” Then he turned to me. “This is my mom and dad.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
The mom looked me up and down again, staring for a moment at my muddy pants.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” said his dad.
“No,” I said. “I’m just visiting.” It was then that I noticed a tiny H4H pin on his lapel, and a similar one on his wife’s cardigan.
He opened his mouth for a follow-up question. Fortunately, I was saved when the woman onstage gave a big shout-out to Pitman’s wonderful mayor. Andrew’s dad stopped and turned, waving to the crowd. Then the band started up again, louder than before, and no one could hear a word.
Looking around, I spotted at least a dozen more of those tiny H4H pins. I needed to get what I came for and get out of there, back to my friends. Things would be wrapping up soon and the store would be reopening.
“Thanks for the chili dog,” I said, moving my head close to Andrew’s so he could hear me. “The store will be open in a minute, so I should get over there.”
Andrew shook his head with a smug smile and put his hand around my waist as he leaned even closer. “Pratt’s not leaving until this is over, so you might as well wait. Besides, what’s your hurry?”
We were standing by the entrance to the park. I could see the store, see the note still on the front door.
“Just don’t want it to get too late,” I said, stepping away from his grasp.
He was cute, but he was a bit much.
Then the band finished anyway. The singer said, “Good night, everybody. Have a great Game Day this Thursday!” Then the stage lights went out and the crowd starting edging toward the exits.
“Okay,” I said, stepping toward the exit, too. “Well, thanks again for everything.”
He drew close again and said, “I’ll come with you.”
FIFTY-THREE
I didn’t want to be mean or ungrateful. I didn’t want to string him along. And I really didn’t want to complicate my exit. I’d managed to avoid telling my made-up story, and I wanted to keep it that way. But he seemed determined to come with me.
I figured I’d put off the awkward farewell until after I left the market. I’d do it quick, abrupt, and if his feelings were hurt, that would be on him.
We walked along with the crowd, and as we approached the store, I saw an older man climbing the steps to the front door with a key in his hand.
“Evening, Mr. Pratt,” Andrew said loudly as we approached.
The old man turned with a start, then smiled. “Evening, Andrew.”
He did a double take when he saw me, squinting and frowning.
“This is my friend Jimi,” Andrew said.
“Oh. Hello,” Pratt said with a smile as he opened the door.
The place was quaint but vaguely creepy, like it had been stuck in time for fifty years. But it seemed to have everything I needed.
Andrew and Pratt talked about the weather and various people they knew while I picked up a basket and filled it with four self-heating cans of soup, four bottles of water, four chocolate chip cookies, and a bag of bread. Then I grabbed some gauze, numbing spray, first aid cream, and large adhesive bandages. They even had a cheap foil emergency blanket. I threw that in as well.
There was a sign taped to the register: THIS STORE IS FOR HUMANS. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO DENY SERVICE TO MIXIES. Another one, behind the counter, said NO DOGS ALLOWED, with the words OR MIXIES added with thick black marker.
Pratt stared at me staring at them. “Will that be all?”
I nodded and gave him my most innocent smile.
Pratt totaled it all up, and Andrew watched as I put it in my backpack, as if noticing my purchases for the first time. He looked up at me with an odd expression. “Are you hurt?”
“Nope,” I said cheerfully. “Just stocking up.”
I paid, thanked Mr. Pratt, and headed for the door.
As Andrew walked me down the steps, I steeled myself, trying to figure out how I was going to play this, how I was going to shake him and get away.
If worse came to worse, I could just stomp on his foot and run. But when we got down to the sidewalk, we practically bumped into his parents.
“Hello there!” Andrew’s mother said brightly.
“Did you enjoy the fair?” the mayor asked, perfectly nice but still weirding me out.
“Yes,” I said. “It was great.”
As we stood there, each person that walked by said, “Evening, Mayor Randolph.” They were all wearing H4H pins.
“Well, I should get going,” I said. I took a step away from them, hoping Andrew would get stuck in conversation with his parents and I could slip away.
“I’ll walk you home,” he said.
“No, that’s okay. It was nice meeting you.”
“You’re just visiting, right?” Mayor Randolph said. “Where are you staying?”
And there it was.
I wondered which would be easier, starting down the road of lies and explanations, or just running for the gate.
“Outside of town.”
All three of their brows immediately furrowed, like I had just said I was staying on Mars.
“Outside of . . .” The mayor tilted his head, confused. “But . . . where?”
“I’m backpacking,” I said lightly. “Camping out.”
Mrs. Randolph looked genuinely alarmed. “In the woods?”
I nodded and smiled and turned to go.
“So, where are you going now?” the mayor asked.
I tried to maintain the smile as I turned back. “Just getting on my way,” I said.
Andrew looked down at my stuffed backpack. “You’re bringing all that just for you?”
I didn’t want to get into who I was or wasn’t traveling with. Before I had to, the mayor said, “The gate’s closed for the night.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The gate’s closed. We’re not in the city. We close the gate every night. For security reasons.”
“Well, can we open it?”
“Sure thing.” He smiled. “In the morning.”
FIFTY-FOUR
For a moment I just stood there, staring at Mayor Randolph and trying to keep the panic rising within me from showing on my face.
“So I’m locked in here?” I said, trying to sound casual.
“Well, yes, if you put it like that,” the mayor said. “But more to the point, undesirable elements are locked out. Even if the gate wasn’t locked, I couldn’t let you go out there on your own at night. There’s all sorts of creatures out there.”
I knew he was lying about that. Between the climate and the mining and drilling, the entire state was just about devoid of wildlife. Unless he was talking about chimeras, which would make sense according to Ryan’s map.
He looked at me appraisingly. “How old are you, anyway?”
“Nineteen.”
Andrew snorted and looked away. The mayor didn’t seem like he was buying it, either.
Mrs. Randolph put her hand on my arm. “We couldn’t just let you go out there on your own at night,” she said. “You can stay in our guesthouse.”
“Unless you’ve got friends with you,” Andrew said.
The mayor’s face looked suddenly hard. “Are there?”
“No,” I heard myself saying.
“Then it’s settled,” Mrs. Randolph said, smiling broadly. “You can leave in the morning if you want to.”
The mayor smiled but his face was still stern. “Or we can drive you to the Levline, if you come to your senses.”
Sammy was over the moon that I was staying with them, nattering on all the way back to their house about his toys, his friends, and his comic book collection.
Andrew seemed pretty upbeat, too, practically biting his cheek to keep the smile off his face.
I was in shock. As we walked down the road, I could see the gate up ahead, now closed. I felt claustrophobic. I wanted to run over and try to open it or climb over it, or at least shout into the woods that I was okay and I’d be back in the morning.
I wondered if my friends were all right, especially Pell. I wondered what would happen if they gave up and went on without me, or if they came to get me and ran into this horde of chimera-haters. I wondered if the hours I was wasting here would be the difference between reaching Del in time or never seeing him again.
The Randolphs lived in a large single home. It was neat and comfortable, nice but strangely old-fashioned. As soon as we walked in, Mrs. Randolph went straight back to the kitchen, the mayor stopped in the dining room and poured himself a drink, and Sammy ran upstairs to get ready for bed.
Andrew inv
ited me to sit on the sofa. Then he did, too. Close. I slid away from him.
Mrs. Randolph came in from the dining room with a smile. “Well, I’ve set up the guesthouse for you. You’ll have some privacy there. I’d be happy to wash those clothes for you.”
Before he could hide it, a flash of interest crossed Andrew’s face. Mr. Randolph walked up behind his wife, putting a hand on her waist. The other hand held a cut-glass tumbler with brown liquor in it.
“No, I’m fine,” I said. “Thank you, though. You’re very gracious.”
“I’m not crazy about the idea of you hiking around out there on your own,” the mayor said, sipping his drink.
“I’ll be fine,” I said with a smile. “I do it all the time.”
“Well, we can talk about it some more in the morning.”
“Just let me know when you want to go to bed,” Mrs. Randolph said. “Everything is ready.”
“That’s great,” I said, faking a yawn that became real halfway through. “I should probably go to bed now.”
Andrew sat forward. “Already?”
I stood up. “It’s been a long day.” Images of it flashed through my mind, leaving me even more exhausted. I yawned again.
Mrs. Randolph called upstairs, “Sammy, come say good night to our guest!”
Sammy scrambled down the steps sounding like a herd of tiny buffaloes. Mrs. Randolph winced as he hit the floor running. He was wearing footie pajamas with a cowboy motif, and his feet slid across the floor as he scampered. When he finally got traction, he took off like a shot in my direction, arms out wide for a midsection hug that was more like a tackle.
“You’re going to bed?” he said, his arms wrapped around me. “I’m going to bed now, too. I got to stay up late because of the fair. Are you staying for Game Day?” He stopped and looked up at me.
“No, I don’t think so.”
He looked disappointed for a fraction of a second, then said, “Are you going to eat breakfast in the morning?”
“Um . . . I guess so. Probably.”
“Good!” he said, letting me go. “My teacher says breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” He turned and ran back upstairs. “Good night!” he shouted down.
