I headed back to the kitchen, following the sound of Scout’s voice saying, “And so we need to go to the place called Erickson Ryder to see if we can communicate with the people on my planet.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I walked into the room to see Roy and Beverly leaning forward, intently listening to everything Scout said. Hopefully, they’d think Scout’s story was just him being special. “I’m back,” I said brightly, hoping to change the subject.
“So now we need a different car because we need to get there soon,” Scout said, still talking to Roy and Beverly.
“He gets confused sometimes,” I said. “Really, he doesn’t know what he’s saying . . .”
But no one was paying attention to me. Roy and Beverly had their heads together and were whispering between themselves, while Scout sat back with folded arms, a self-satisfied expression on his face. The couple talked for a really long time, maybe five minutes or so, which made me nervous. Scout thought these two were okay, but we really didn’t know them. What if they called the police or tried to keep us trapped here? We didn’t have phones to call 911 and even if we did, I didn’t know where we were. Roy and Beverly whispered back and forth, looking from Scout to me and back again. I gestured to Scout to get up. “I think we have to get going,” I said.
Roy held up a hand to signal we should wait. A second later, Beverly nodded and he said, “I think we can help you out.”
“How?” I asked.
“Bev and I have a vehicle you can borrow,” he said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Less than half an hour later, we were back on the road, me at the wheel of what looked like a brand-new cargo van, Scout in the passenger seat. I still couldn’t believe complete strangers would just lend us a vehicle without even wanting to look at our IDs. It was a matter of trust, Beverly said, and the right thing to do. The van was white, with two windows in back, and it came, Roy said, with a full tank of gas. And that wasn’t all it came with.
“This here vehicle is something pretty special,” Roy said with a grin, clearly proud. We’d walked around to the back of the house where it was parked, hidden from the road under a carport. “My son and I have been making modifications to it since day one, and believe you me, there isn’t another one like it in all the world.”
It looked like a regular van to me, the kind that made deliveries. “Like what kind of modifications?” I wondered aloud.
“I’m very glad you asked,” he said.
“Just wait until you see,” Beverly said, rubbing her hands excitedly.
“This compartment on the top. It just looks decorative, right?” he said.
“I guess.”
“But there’s something in it that comes down,” Scout said.
“Righty-o young man!” Roy beamed. He flipped up the lid of the compartment and pulled a flexible sheet down all the way until it completely covered the side of the van. It stuck on by itself, like it was suctioned. “Magnetic,” he said, by way of explanation. The sheet was smooth and dark in color. It had the words “Henderson Family Locksmith Company” above the image of a family gathering, the people all in silhouette. Below the family image was a picture of a lock and a key next to a phone number and the words, “One call and your troubles are over.”
“Wow,” I walked up and smoothed my hand over the surface. Even up close, it looked like it was part of the van.
“There’s one on the other side too,” Roy said. “Besides that one, we have other magnetic signs for all kinds of businesses in the back of the van. There are different license plates too. You just slide ’em right into the slot. You can make this van look completely different in just a few minutes’ time.”
“The locksmith one is the only one that completely covers the van,” Beverly said. “But some of the others do the trick almost as well. One of them is an exterminator and there’s a big bug in back that you can clip onto the top of the van. That one’s my favorite.”
“There are also brochures and business cards in back for all the businesses, just in case,” Roy said. “And fake ID badges.” He opened the back of the van and gestured to Scout to come over so he could show him. From where I stood, I could see a large plastic bug the size of a dachshund lying with its legs in the air. Everything else, the brochures and business cards he’d mentioned, was tucked into plastic boxes. Between the boxes were several large flashlights the size of small fire extinguishers. Scout crawled into the back of the van behind Roy, and he and Roy continued the discussion.
“But why?” I asked Beverly. “Why would you need to make the van look different?”
“To throw off the feds, of course. You get spotted, then you pull off the road, change your license plate and the way the van looks, and when you get back on the road, you’re unlikely to get stopped because they’re looking for something else. They aren’t as smart as you’d think.”
I stared at her in bewilderment.
She gently took my arm and pulled me off to the side. “Your friend told us about your troubles and we understand what you’re going through.”
“He’s not quite right. He gets confused sometimes,” I said, ready to launch into my story about his compromised mental status, but Beverly would hear none of it.
“Don’t say that,” she said, waving a finger at me. “There’s nothing wrong with that young man. He just has his own version of events. Roy and I figured it out right away because our grandson does that too.”
“Does what?”
“Makes a story out of things he doesn’t understand, so it makes sense to the way his mind works,” Beverly said. “I can tell you’re very protective of Scout, so I won’t ask you to tell me your secret, but if I guess it, will you let me know if I’m right?”
“Sure. I guess.” This was getting weird and time was passing us by. Roy and Scout were crawling out of the back of the van now and Roy was still talking about custom features and emergency switches. They walked around to the front and Roy said, “Climb on in, son, and I’ll show you everything on the dashboard.”
Beverly leaned in so close her mouth was nearly up to my ear. She whispered loudly, “Scout told us about being an alien and needing to go home to his planet. And that you told him he couldn’t cure cancer here.” She smiled, the lines around her eyes crinkling. “When you say it like that, it doesn’t make much sense, does it?”
I shook my head. “No, it doesn’t.”
“So Roy and I came up with a theory of our own.” She put a grandmotherly hand on my shoulder. “We think your friend is an illegal alien who needs to get to Canada for medical care, and that if you get stopped by the authorities, you’ll get in trouble because he’s been here illegally.”
I sucked in a breath, stunned at what they’d come up with. “That’s exactly right,” I said.
“I knew it. I knew it!” She practically crowed with satisfaction. “Roy figured out he was an illegal alien, but I was the one who figured out the cancer. Something about him just looks a little off, you know. I notice things.” She smiled. “I mean, he’s a good looking kid, but there’s something that’s different.”
“I know.”
“That cancer is a vicious thing.” Beverly tilted her head to one side and gave me a long look. “You really love him, don’t you?”
Her question caught me off guard. The answer was complicated. First and foremost, Lucas was the one I loved. As for Scout, well, originally all I wanted was for him to get out of my boyfriend’s body and be gone for good. I wouldn’t have cared if that meant an end to Scout’s life. And even knowing he had cured Lucas’s cancer, I’d considered him a trespasser. How dare he take over someone else’s body? What gave him the right?
But in the last few hours and days, my attitude had softened. This was a crazy, mixed-up galaxy and Scout was a lost soul just trying to get home. And I was the only one who could help him.
And it was more than that. When I looked at him now, I saw more than a stranger who’d taken over Lucas’s body. I knew S
cout now. He was curious and sweet and thoughtful. Beverly was still waiting for my answer. “Yes, I really do love him,” I said.
She nodded. “I told you I notice things. You know, they’re curing cancer so much more now than they were even a few years ago. New treatments, new drugs. Your friend will probably be just fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said.
When Roy came back around to where we stood, he ceremoniously handed me the keys. “Scout says you’ll be the driver. Take good care of my baby.”
I took them and said, “When do we have to have it back?”
“Don’t matter,” Roy said, wiping his palm across his forehead. “A few hours, a few days, a few weeks. Whenever you’re done getting this boy home.” Next to him, Scout stood smiling, the happiest I’d ever seen him.
“Thank you,” I said. “I have some money. It’s not much, but I could—”
“No, no, no,” Beverly said. Next to her, Roy shook his head. “You keep your money. We want to do this.”
We climbed into the front and Roy spoke to me through the open window. He explained how to take an alternate route, a back road where we were unlikely to run into the agents. “You’ll loop around for a while, but eventually, it will take you back to the highway.”
“Will do.” I patted the dashboard. “Thank you again for helping us out,” I said. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “You just take good care of this guy and it will be payment enough.”
I rummaged in my backpack and got out the keys for the Grand Prix. “If you want to go pick up our car after the agents leave, you can,” I said. “I don’t think they can trace it back to anyone. It was my friend’s barn car to begin with and I’m pretty sure he never registered it.”
Roy nodded and took the keys. “If I get it, I’ll hold onto it for you.” He grimaced. “But judging from personal experience, they’re likely to haul it away as evidence.”
I nodded. “Sounds about right. Well, thank you again.” I started up the engine and it came to life with a powerful roar. As we drove down the driveway, Scout turned to look behind us. When I glanced back, I saw the couple standing together in front of the house, Beverly blowing kisses and her husband waving. As we turned onto the road, Roy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Don’t forget to go the way I told you.”
I wasn’t about to forget. We drove down a narrow country road paved in crumbling asphalt. There were no street signs and even the van’s GPS didn’t have a name for the route we were traveling on. It seemed fairly safe, but still I kept glancing in the rearview mirror, just in case.
We drove up behind a guy on a tractor and I veered around him, pretty sure federal agents wouldn’t be driving mud-splattered farm equipment. The tractor driver, an old guy in overalls, gave a friendly wave as we went past and Scout responded, his hand moving enthusiastically across the width of the open window. I sighed. So much for not drawing attention to ourselves.
When we reached the highway, I breathed a sigh of relief and the GPS voice seemed happier too. She cheerfully announced the turn as if pleased to know the name of the main road, although her tone of voice might have been my imagination. “Twenty-seven miles until we get to the Erickson Ryder place,” I said. “When we get there, let me do the talking, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, his gaze straight ahead. “Emma? Do you think the communications to my people came from Erickson Ryder Incorporated?”
“I don’t know for sure,” I answered. “But it’s a strong possibility. I mean, look around.” I gestured. “It’s not like there’s much else around here.”
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“I think you just did.”
It was an old joke, but not one Scout had ever heard before, because a look of wonderment came over his face and he laughed.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “Go ahead and ask.”
He composed himself and said, “Why did you think the people at the Bar None would be scary?”
“Because I saw the motorcycles and old trucks parked outside and I thought maybe it was a biker bar full of scary rednecks.”
“Rednecks?”
“That’s a word that means . . . forget it. It’s not a nice word. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“Why did you think these people would be scary?”
“Biker bars usually have a rough crowd and sometimes things get ugly. Fist fights break out. People get drunk and start pushing people around. That kind of thing.”
“So you know of these fights? Have you seen the pushing?”
“Well no, not personally.”
“Is this something that is reported all the time? On the television?”
“No, I . . .” I stopped to think, but couldn’t recall where I’d gotten the idea that biker bars were bad news. It was just a general sense I’d always gotten. From movies, maybe? “I can’t tell you, Scout,” I finally said. “It’s just a thing people know.”
“But it was not true. All of the people there were good people.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t true at that bar.”
“So maybe it isn’t true at all?”
“Maybe.”
He shook his head. “This is a very confusing planet. People believe things that aren’t true about other people just because of how they look and what kind of vehicle they drive. Why can you not wait and see who they are inside before you make a decision?”
“Because we’re afraid,” I said. “If I had trusted them and they turned out to be bad people, they might have robbed us or attacked us. It’s better to be cautious.”
“That is a sad thing,” he said. “Always thinking the worst of other people.”
“Sad, but that’s the way it is. We have to judge them on how they act and what they wear and how they look. We don’t have any other way of knowing about them except what we can see on the outside. It takes a long time to really get to know someone, and even then, they can fool you.”
“But I knew they were nice,” he said.
“Well, I wish I had your ability, but I don’t.” I tightened my grip on the wheel. Just as Roy had predicted, the road looped around and the terrain was getting hillier too. “People can be a mystery. Like Roy and Beverly Atkins. You told me they were nice and they were nice. I mean, they lent us this van, which is unbelievable, but I’m still confused. Why do they have it rigged to change its appearance? Beverly said it was to shake the feds, but why would an old couple who live in the middle of nowhere need to hide from the law? They’re definitely doing something illegal.”
“It is the drink,” Scout said. “The drink that they make. They need the van to transport it.”
“What drink?” I glanced over to see him looking ahead, a dreamy expression on his face.
“I can’t tell you what it was called. It was an odd word, like two words together.” His forehead scrunched and when he couldn’t remember, he waved the problem away. “They make the drink and drive it places in this van and people buy it.”
“Did Roy tell you that?”
“Oh no, but I knew. He was thinking about the drink. He thinks about it a lot. They make it on their land, in these big metal . . . kettles? It looks a little like Eric’s mother’s tea kettle, but much bigger and the kettle is connected to other metal containers,” he continued. “You add different things and it makes the drink. And when you drink it, it gives you a kick.”
Realization dawned on me. “They make moonshine?”
Scout grinned. “Yes! That is the word. They have made it in Roy’s family for a long time. His father and his father’s father and all the way back. And now he makes it with his son. It is a . . .”
“Tradition?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Pride. That is the name of it. They will say, ‘I’m going to brew me up some Pride.’” Scout’s voice deepened like Roy’s when he did the quote, r
eminding me of Lucas when he used to do impressions. He’d mimic scenes from movies, doing all the parts, even the women. Sometimes he made me laugh so hard I’d be doubled over, praying I wouldn’t pee. “Roy tells the customers, ‘This here Pride is the real deal—one hundred and twenty proof and pure. White lightning. Not the kind that would make you blind, so don’t you worry about that.’”
“I didn’t know people still did that,” I marveled. “I can’t believe I met an actual moonshiner and now I’m driving his van. Unbelievable.”
“Oh no, it is believable,” Scout said. “I can tell you that it is real and it happened, so you can believe it.”
“Okay,” I said and didn’t even bother to explain.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Scout was quiet for the next half hour, and I didn’t talk either. I couldn’t speak for him, but my silence had to do with the nervousness of driving toward our final destination. What were the chances two teenagers would get anyone at a research facility to take them seriously? Not likely, I thought. I was starting to question this whole outing, but I’d already defied federal agents, had Scout lie to Mrs. Walker, and borrowed a van from moonshiners. I didn’t have a better plan, so I had to see this one through.
Trees lined the sides of the road and, at one point, we passed what had to be a Christmas tree farm. When the GPS directed us toward Ryder Drive, it turned out to be just one more country lane. The road went on for at least another mile and I was starting to doubt we were on the right track when the building came into view and the GPS announced we’d arrived.
From a Distant Star Page 17
