by Ramsey Isler
“No,” Chris said. “He did not.”
“Well allow me to fill in some gaps in your gentlemanly education,” Dupree said with a smirk and a wink.
“Fine,” Chris said as he checked his watch (a nice Tag-Heuer model, Sam noticed). “But only for twenty minutes.”
Sam led the two pilots down the steps of the mobile gangway that had rolled up to the plane, but Chris stopped halfway down. He turned to look behind him. “Did you hear that?” he said.
“Hear what?” Sam asked. “My ears are still popping. I can barely hear anything.”
“That was really odd,” Chris said with a shrug, “but I could have sworn I heard some kid laughing behind us.”
Chapter 15
Sam entertained the pilots for a good hour. They weren’t bad company, surprisingly. Once Chris got a little liquor in him he loosened up and had all sorts of crude jokes to tell. Sam made it a point to remember them for future parties.
When she was sure that the Kith had enough time to get away safely, Sam politely bid the pilots a good evening and had the limo drive her back home. From there, she took her own car back to the factory. It was already well past midnight and the events of the day had worn her down. Still, when she pulled up to the workshop she felt a surge of excitement. Her plan was almost complete.
The crows were still there. Sam couldn’t see them well in the night, but ambient light from the building’s lamps caught on their feathers. She could feel them watching her as she walked over to the door and went inside.
Piv was there, with a batch of watches in front of him. As usual, he refused to work on them in her presence. So as soon as she appeared, he put his handiwork down and stared at her.
Sam said, “How did you get back so fast?”
“I stowed away on an airport shuttle,” Piv said. His tone and smile indicated he was quite proud of his cleverness.
“And where are the Kith we just transported?” Sam asked.
“On their way,” Piv said with his usual cheer. “They’re taking their time and enjoying their new home. They’ll be here soon enough.”
“You’re sure they know where they’re going?” Sam asked. “I didn’t go through all this trouble for them to get lost.”
“They’ll be here by morning time, and then we’ll all have a lovely little rest.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” Sam asked.
“Wait,” Piv said. “Or sleep. You look like you need sleep.”
“I’ll be back here at sundown tomorrow,” Sam said. “I expect this place to be full of little Kith with busy little hands.”
“Not to worry, not to worry,” Piv said. “All will be as right as rain. In the meantime, you should take one of these new watches and see if it strikes your fancy.”
Piv offered one of the watches he’d been working on and Sam held it up to the light. It was housed in a shining silver case shaped like a hexagon. “Looks nice,” Sam said. “What’s special about it?”
“I’ve been working on making some of the parts smaller so we have room,” Piv said.
“Room for what?” Sam asked.
“Whatever we come up with next,” Piv said, smiling.
“There’s that elf initiative again,” Sam said. “Piv, don’t ever change.”
“I haven’t after all this time,” Piv said, “and I don’t see any reason to start now.”
* * *
Morning came, and Sam was in her office and tinkering with the watch Piv had given her. She peered through a magnifying glass and examined all the tiny gears moving in perfect synchronized harmony and once again marveled at the elf’s fantastic skill. The world seemed to drop away when she really focused on the majesty of the gear systems. It was like watching an intricate dance with many performers, all grasping and releasing and twirling around each other with speedy precision. No matter how many times she watched it, she always marveled at it. But her entrancement was broken by the clickety-clack of hurried high heels against hardwood flooring. Jessica sauntered into her office and shut the door.
Sam took one look at Jess and knew she was in trouble. “Something tells me you’re mad at me.”
Jess rolled her eyes. “Have you read this morning’s Detroit News?”
“Haven’t gotten around to it,” Sam said as she returned her focus to the watch. “I figure if there’s anything interesting in the news world you’ll let me know.”
“Well, I’m letting you know,” Jess said as she unfurled the newspaper tucked under her arm. “You got the media’s attention again. A little blurb on page two.”
“Wonderful,” Sam said. “She didn’t take her eyes off of the watch.
“You want to read it?” Jess asked.
“My eyes are kind of occupied at the moment.”
“Fine. Let me read it to you. ’Airport staff report that Better Timepieces founder Sam Chablon arrived in an Airbus A300 all by herself in the middle of the night, and then she promptly loaded a semi truck with mysterious cargo. Is Better up to something big? With the company poised to make an announcement regarding a new product line, we can only guess what new tricks this company has up their sleeves.’”
“That’s it?” Sam asked.
“That’s it. Journalism isn’t what it used to be.”
Sam shrugged. “It’s good press. It keeps people interested.”
“That may be true”, Jess said. “But it would save me a boatload of trouble if you would, you know, tell me about these things ahead of time so I can have some PR prepped. We have to have control of our stories. We can’t let the press dictate things.”
“You’re right. I’m—”
“Sorry. Yes, I know you are. I’m starting to see a pattern here, Sam.”
“It’s just the way things have to be for now,” Sam said. “I know it’s frustrating for you, but you can’t argue that my methods have led to a lot of success. Speaking of which, I’m giving you a raise.”
“Sam—”
“We’ve made a lot of money,” Sam said as she reached into a desk drawer, “and we’re about to make a whole lot more. You’ve been a big part of that.”
Jess watched intently as Sam retrieved a check and pen and started scribbling. “Are you trying to buy me off?” Jess asked.
“Yes,” Sam said as she handed Jess her new paycheck. “Is it working?”
Jessica’s eyebrows shot up an inch when she read the numbers on the check. “Oh yes...it is working. I should get mad at you more often.”
* * *
Sam got through the rest of the day by burying herself in the various administrative matters that she’d been neglecting while putting her plans in place. Running a startup isn’t exactly work you can neglect for too long, especially when your company is going through growth spurts like a teenage boy.
By sundown, all the tasks on her list were done. She had attended every meeting, answered every email, and returned every call. The accomplishment brought her a reassuring satisfaction. This CEO gig wasn’t so hard.
But she still had an altogether different type of work that needed to be done. She looked outside and saw the sky had shifted into a gradient of purple and brown hues as the summer sun went down. Cars were leaving the office. The work day for ordinary mortal folk was at an end. But the Kith would just be getting started.
Sam did her best to keep herself calm and relaxed as she drove over to the workshop. She wasn’t sure what she was going to find, but she convinced herself that she would not lose her cool regardless of what happened. The Kith are unique and whimsical creatures, and as such they require a certain degree of patience.
Sam arrived and surveyed the scene. The factory appeared serene and mundane. Sam couldn’t sense any sign that anyone at all was working in there. But the crows were still there, glaring at her with quiet menace. She went inside and found a whole different world.
There were indeed occupants in the factory. The work desks were crowded with dozens of Kith who had tools, parts, and gears arrang
ed before them. For just a moment, Sam could hear the din of all those skillful hands working feverishly. But as she opened the door, all activity stopped. Countless pairs of keen Kith eyes turned to stare at her.
“Well,” Sam said. “I’m glad you all made it. Thanks for making the trip.”
An eager Piv appeared next to her and said, “You’ll have to come meet everyone. You must learn their names. Are you sure you’ll be able to keep track of them all?”
“I think I have a system for that,” Sam said. She reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone. “Just start the introductions.”
“Very well then,” Piv said as he slung his arm around the shoulders of a Kith next to him. “This handsome fellow here is first.”
“I am Kibblefor,” Kibblefor said with a stately bow. “Hallo, and best regards.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Kibblefor,” Sam said. “Now could you stand still for a moment?” Sam aimed her phone’s camera at him and snapped a portrait. “How do you spell your name?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Kibblefor said. “I never learnt to scribe your tongue.”
“Ah,” Sam said. “Well, I think I can get by with spelling it phonetically. Thank you.”
Sam and Piv repeated that process two hundred and forty two times. Piv would introduce her to some bubbly elf. Sam would play nice, smile, then take a picture and tag it with the elf’s name. Most of the Kith were quite happy with this new game since none of them had ever had their pictures taken. When Sam showed them the images on her phone they practically went mad with delight.
Noc Noc and Melkidoodum joined Piv and Sam after the introductions. “Are you sure these are the best guys for the job?” Sam whispered to them.
“You have doubts?” Melkidoodum asked.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Sam said. “I’m just concerned that they’re fascinated by something as simple as a smartphone camera, but they’re going to be charged with handling one of the most complicated micro-mechanical systems ever conceived.”
Noc Noc laughed. “Don’t fear, child. The others may be a little out-of-date at the moment, but they will learn all the ins and outs of your watches very quickly. Very quickly.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “As long as the others catch on as quickly as you guys did, I guess we won’t have a problem. So, now that I’ve met all the guys, what else do we need to cover?”
“We’ll need belly timber,” Piv said.
Sam stared at him. “Belly...timber?”
Melkidoodum nodded. “Yes, you know. Vittles.”
“I assume you mean food,” Sam said.
“Yes yes,” Noc Noc said.
Sam couldn’t help but smile. “I thought you guys like eggs. You’ve got enough crows out there. Just eat their eggs.”
The Kith gasped and recoiled. Melkidoodum looked like he might faint. Piv’s mouth dropped open and he just stared at her.
“Did I say something wrong?” Sam asked.
“The crows are doing us a favor,” Piv said. “We’d never eat their eggs.”
Noc Noc looked like he wanted to punch her. “That would be so...so wrong. What kind of person would say such a thing?”
“Okay,” Sam said. “I apologize. It was a bad joke. Forgive me?”
The Kith looked at each other for a few seconds. Then Noc Noc rolled his eyes and said, “We forgive.” The three Kith nodded in unison.
“Good,” Sam said. “Thanks for understanding. I’ll get you guys whatever food you need. Just put together a list.” Sam turned her attention to her phone to double check that all the photos had been stored. Then something occurred to her. Although a few of the Kith were pretty enough to be confused for girls at a casual glance, everyone that Piv had introduced her to was male.
“Where are all the female elves?” she asked.
“There aren’t any,” Piv said.
“That’s what I’m saying,” Sam said. “There aren’t any in the workshop. Don’t the female elves like this kind of work?”
“No,” Piv said. “There aren’t any.”
Sam was about to rephrase the question when Piv made a little gesture. He held up his hand with the fingers curled and his thumb touching his index finger, forming a little circle. A zero, in fact.
“You mean,” Sam said, suddenly realizing what he meant, “there aren’t...any female elves around...at all?”
“Mm hmm,” Piv said, nodding.
“Okayyyy,” Sam said. “Then...how do you...you know.” She paused for a moment and tried to find the best way to phrase her next words without evoking another round of blank stares or giggles. “How do you make new elves?”
The three Kith looked at each other. Then back to her. “You’re too young to hear about that,” they said in unison.
Sam put her hands on her hips. “I’m twenty-six years old!”
“See?” Noc Noc said. “See? Just a baby. We’ll tell you when you’re sixty-two.”
“I doubt I’ll be that interested in the mating habits of elves when I’m that old,” Sam said. But she did find this latest oddity about Kith life to be quite intriguing. The fact that the Kith were adamant about keeping it secret piqued her interest even more. She made a note to double-check to see if her father had ever put anything about this in his notes.
“If that’s the case,” Sam said, “I guess if there aren’t any female Kith I don’t need to worry about anyone taking maternity leave. Unless...you guys can get pregnant somehow.”
“That is one trick we never figured out,” Piv said.
* * *
Several nights later, Terry Hamilton visited the Better workshop. He had not been invited to do so. He didn’t care. Hamilton’s philosophy on the youth of modern times was simple: Twenty-somethings are the source of all that is wrong with the world today.
It was a theory he’d developed sometime after his 40th birthday. The younger people around him seemed like such a waste of space. They’d either been coddled by their parents or the make-believe world of TV, which often served as a surrogate parent. The result led to an entire generation of apathetic wannabe stars and drug-addled morons addicted to reality television.
But even Terry had to admit that every now and then, one of those overgrown adolescents came up with a huge idea that meant big money. Those Google kids are a prime example. All they needed was a little adult supervision and grownup money to fund their geeky dreams, and everybody made a fortune. Terry was convinced Sam Chablon was one of those wunderkinds. He was right, of course, she is brilliant. But her wacko father never taught her to appreciate good advice from her elders, and to respect the efforts of others.
It all drove Terry insane.
He was convinced he had lost at least some part of his mind because of her. After all, why else would he be trying to sneak into a factory tonight? That’s not to say that Terry was a stranger to corporate spying. You don’t get to the top of the ladder without peeking up a few pant legs, so to speak. But this was different. This time he had to spy on a company he owned a significant part of. He never thought the day would come.
But Sam left him no choice. Her obstinacy created this situation. Terry would get his answers, one way or another. He even had a plausible back-up story planned. If he got caught, he’d call up a friend at the sheriff’s office who would corroborate anything he said. It pays to contribute heavily to the sheriff’s annual events. But those plans were for emergency backup. Ideally, no one would ever know he was here. He’d sneak in, find Sam’s secrets, and sneak back out.
He couldn’t have picked a better night for this. The air was warm, but not humid. There was no wind to speak of. The crickets were engrossed in a carefree cacophony that would mask the tiny bit of noise he’d make as he slipped into the factory. When Terry arrived at this place he expected to see at least some sort of security he’d have to circumvent. But when he stopped his car fifty yards from the building and scanned it with his eyes, he couldn’t find a trace of anything. There were no cameras, no guard
s. Not even a gate.
But that didn’t mean the place would be easy to get into. The old warehouse was built in an era when sturdy construction was something builders took pride in. This place looked like it could survive a direct bomb strike. The heavy metal doors were solid, and Terry wondered if he’d have a chance to get in there even if he drove his car straight into one. But Terry was resourceful, and determined. He would not be stopped. Tonight the secrets would come to light. Tonight, Sam would lose her advantage.
Terry carefully walked between trees and stayed in cover as he approached the warehouse from where he parked. It was late, but he could tell from this distance that the factory was a veritable beehive of activity. The sounds of machinery and tinkering reached his ears before he even got halfway to the door.
People are working at this hour? This could be a problem.
Then Terry heard a rustling sound above him. Before he could even crane his neck to see the source, something big and feathery hit the side of his head. He spun and ducked low, and a pair of claws scratched at his back. Then the cawing started.
Terry had just enough time to see the flock of black birds descend on him before he ran back to his car as fast as his legs could carry him. He kept his arms over his head and in front of his face as countless wings, beaks, and talons tore at his clothes and flesh. He made it to his car and reached for the door handle. A flurry of talons and beaks attacked his arm. Prickly pain shot up through his shoulder, but he kept his focus. He grabbed one crow by the neck and swung it around his head, beating back the flock with the body of one of their own. When the birds retreated, Terry dropped the dead crow to the ground. Its neck was bent like an umbrella handle. Terry entered his car and gently closed the door.
Damn birds.
Terry took a moment to inspect his many injuries. He was bleeding and his skin was peeling and bruised, but it was nothing fatal. He made a mental note to get checked for any bird-borne diseases after this was all over. But it wasn’t over yet. The crows were starting to land on his car now. Several of them alighted on his hood and stared through the windshield with their beady dark eyes.
