Marvin and the Moths
Page 19
“That was a fine performance this evening, Stephen,” a voice called out from the dark. A television screen on the wall cast a faint light over the room, revealing dim figures seated around a long table. The TV screen showed a live video feed of the PLI boardroom, where the last attendees of the shareholders meeting were filing from the room. “I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
“You did do it better yourself,” another voice called out. “I remember.”
“Did I?” said the first speaker. “I may have, and I may not have.”
“Oh, drop the pretense,” said the second man. “I know who you are.”
“Do you?” replied the first. “I don’t know any of you, and you don’t know me. That’s what we agreed to—what our founders agreed to.”
“Come now. We’ve each guessed one another’s identities long ago. We’re all friends here.”
“Friends?” replied the first speaker, swiveling in his chair. “Are we? I thought we were here to shape the destiny of the most important corporation in the world. That doesn’t sound like a friendly get-together to me.” His chair creaked as he turned back toward the door. “In fact, we’re here today because we have a dangerous situation on our hands. Stephen? Will you brief the assembly?”
“Very well,” said Stephen. He nervously straightened his tie. These meetings always made him uncomfortable, and never more so than when he had to share bad news. “The autopsy has confirmed that the spider was one of ours.” A murmur passed around the table.
“Can it be traced back to us?” another man asked.
“Absolutely not,” Stephen promised. “Once our special operative neutralized the threat, a cleaning team stepped in to remove all evidence of the, uh, ‘Elephant Vampire.’”
“‘Elephant Vampire,’” echoed the second speaker. “That was risky, Stephen, feeding that cover story to the police and the press. I can’t believe they went for it. Good thing it worked.”
“Yes, sir,” Stephen said. “But … I’m afraid there is more news.”
“More?” said the first speaker. “Continue, Stephen.”
“The evidence retrieved following the uh, incident, at the middle school,” Stephen said, “points to the involvement of not one, but four bogeys.”
“What?” sputtered one of the men. “Four? What evidence?”
“There were unreliable eyewitness accounts of several ‘moth-men’ fleeing from the scene,” said Stephen. He paused and swallowed hard. “And we retrieved a portion of a wing.”
Everyone at the table immediately began arguing and leveling accusations of incompetence. Finally, the first speaker stood up.
“Gentlemen. Please.” The room quieted. He turned toward Stephen. “This is most serious,” the speaker said. “Additional bogeys are a problem, and the flying ones … they’re often unpredictable. Hard to track.” Murmurs of agreement sounded from around the table. “Furthermore,” he continued, “this indicates the involvement of a rogue agent using material from our labs for his own mysterious purpose. One bogey might be an accident, but four …”
“Our—our thoughts exactly, sir,” Stephen stammered.
“Well, Stephen,” the first speaker said, “it appears you have your work cut out for you. I hope you’re up to the task.” He waved his hand in dismissal and sat back down with a creak.
Stephen nodded nervously, and picked up his briefcase with clammy hands.
“We expect your next report to be … more favorable,” said the speaker. “And Stephen—” He paused. Stephen turned in the doorway and looked back. “You should try the prime rib up in the clubhouse restaurant. It’s excellent tonight.”
Stephen nodded again and left the room quickly. In the pale glow of the lone television screen, eleven faces stared after him, all of them wearing elephant masks.
This ridiculous book took more than ten years to put together. It would not have been possible without a lot of assistance. Thank you to our agent, Jill Grinberg, for entertaining our insectoid dreams on this long journey. Thanks to Matt’s sister, Jenni, for the encouragement. Thanks to Shana Corey for early editorial advice. Thanks to Nick Eliopulos for getting the joke. Thanks to Google Docs for making our long-distance collaboration possible. And, of course, thanks to our wives for putting up with our many phone calls and our loud, confusing laughter during the writing of this book.
Matthew Holm and Jonathan Follett met in middle school, where they started a rock band that rarely left Matt’s basement.
Many years later, they’re still close friends (and not entirely recovered from the traumas of middle school). Matt is an award-winning illustrator and frequent collaborator with his sister, Jennifer L. Holm, on graphic novels like the New York Times bestseller Sunny Side Up and the Babymouse and Squish series. Jon is a user experience designer and an internationally published expert on information design and emerging technologies.
Despite living on separate coasts, Matt and Jon still collaborate on creative projects together, proving that the bonds forged in middle school can never be broken.
Copyright © 2016 by Matthew Holm and Jonathan Follett
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available
First edition, October 2016
Cover art © 2016 by Matthew Holm
Cover design by Christopher Stengel
e-ISBN 978-0-545-87677-3
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