by Rob Reger
Schneider took notes and said it showed a lot of imagination. He also asked me where I thought Attikol fit in. Actually, I don’t think he fits in at all; I just want to know his story in case there’s anything I can use to embarrass him.
And the black rock, well, that’s just pure idle curiosity. Schneider said he assumed the town’s founder, Emma LeStrande, gave the town that name, and he didn’t know why. Probably some personal reason. He suggested that I might enjoy going down to the library and checking out their extensive collection of historical documents on her. I’d rather watch milk sour.
Later
It takes forever for milk to sour, even when you are encouraging it with all the power of your mind.
As a sort of side benefit to trying to watch milk sour, I ended up spying on Raven for many hours. She does very little unless people are placing espresso orders. It’s hard to imagine her plotting to kill a fly, let alone a person. But she’s suspicious as hell, all right. For one thing, she never sleeps. At least I can’t figure out when she sleeps. Or eats—I’ve never seen her eat a thing. She doesn’t drink coffee. And if no one’s talking to her, her eyes get unfocused and you can practically watch her shutting down. I think she’s up to no good, for sure. I wonder if it’s worthwhile to check out her “secret” back room? Ehhh…Maybe if she weren’t sitting in front of it 24/7. Zang, too bad she’s NOT going on that date with Attikol.
Later
Typical evening at the El Dungeon. Ümlaut flirting with Raven, Curls trying to impress Ümlaut, HamHawk trying to keep his chess pieces away from Ümlaut’s friends, Ümlaut’s friends playing Calamity Poker (and all the swearing and acrobatics that go along with that), chairs breaking the front windows, police stopping by for their nightly payoff from Ümlaut…yep, not much interesting going on. Sorted another huge pile of junk mail, swept the floor, gave espresso machine a tune-up. Will report back if anything worthwhile happens.
Later
Spied on Raven until around one in the morning, then the cats and I went back to the impound yard. I had brought a piece of wire, a toothpick, and a hairpin, which I thought might be helpful in picking those locks.
They WERE helpful. How did I learn to pick locks? Interesting.
Inside, the van was a little disappointing. There were tubes and wires and stuff everywhere, but it looked to me like they were just for show. So it’s an art car. Not a mobile laboratory. But still, pretty cool.
Hunted all over the van looking for clues and was just about to give up when I remembered to look under the seats. I was feeling around under the driver’s seat when I found something metal that felt like a lever, so I pulled it, and there was this unlatching sound, and a little hidden compartment clicked open in the side of the van. Sweet! And inside was a cat collar like Miles’s and NeeChee’s with a tag for “Sabbath”! Asked the cats, and sure enough, the one with the shredded ear, the Cat Formerly Known as Cabbage, answers to “Sabbath”! I put the collar on him. This is GOOD stuff—a solid link between the van and the cats! I bet the van and the cats were Rachel’s. And that makes it even more likely she didn’t leave under good circumstances—because what kind of person would leave their cats behind, unless there was foul play? And I bet the cats have adopted me because I am so much like her. Am looking forward to finding the last collar.
Sabbath
I found one other thing in the van worth writing about. I think it pretty much confirms my theory that Raven is a cold-blooded murderer who killed Rachel, my mother, most likely after a riproaring, hairpulling struggle inside the van.
It’s a chunk of her wig.
Very, very late, or early, depending on how you look at it
Hung out at Jakey’s and didn’t leave until around dawn. He has this game called Brats Blow Chunks that we both just had to beat. It took a while.
Hadn’t seen him since my ordeals with Police and School. It was kind of nice how, when he first saw me, he looked worried for about a second, and then he just started laughing.
JAKEY:
You ran a restaurant that served human flesh?
ME:
[Laughing.] Good one, huh?
J:
No wonder you got 40 years of detention.
ME:
Yeah, well, just wait till I get my revenge.
J:
I think you already did.
ME:
What are you talking about?
J:
Come on, you know it yourself. You won, and those people will never get over it.
ME:
[Getting very interested.] That’s what I was hoping. I mean, it was kind of cheating to have Attikol buy my way out. It’s almost like admitting I was guilty in the first place.
J:
Well, that’s not how they see it. I think they just lost their favorite victim.
ME:
How do you know? You see them at the medicine show or something?
J:
Oh yeah. Everyone in town shows up there sooner or later. Anyway, sad cases. Your teachers have been arguing with their goldfish, and writing them detention slips, and suspending them from extracurricular activities. And your favorite patrolman just bought himself an entire case of Ümlaut’s Pätented Pötion of Pöwer.
ME:
Say no more. You’ve made me a very happy girl.
J:
[Laughing.] By the way: toaster.
FISH POOP IS NOT FISH FOOD!
Day 10
Had an excellent creepy dream that involved flying around Blackrock like a bird. After I got tired of daredevil aerial stunts, I started looking around town for somewhere to land. I didn’t want to land on anything painted beige; I knew that stuff was deadly. And wouldn’t you know—I couldn’t find anything not painted beige. Started getting really tired and anxious to find a place to land, even for a second, but I couldn’t find the minipark tree, and the buildings started crowding together so that I couldn’t even find the ground. Finally I got so exhausted I just dropped out of the sky onto this beige roof. Right away the paint licked up my legs and crawled up my body and over my face, all cold and sticky and beigelike, into my mouth and nose and eyes and ears, and it just smothered the life right out of me, which is when I woke up.
Realized as soon as I was awake that I haven’t seen or heard any birds in Blackrock. How sad!
Later
Schneider came to see me at the Das El La Dungeon. Don’t ever let me say that guy is useless. No one else in Blackrock would have given ME all this dirt. When I asked him how he got it, all he would say is, “Eh, I hang out at City Hall a lot.” Whatever that means. Also, he’s lived in Blackrock all his life. Anyway:
Owner of mystery van, license plate 51916 IBC?—No such license plate registered. Anywhere.
Story of mystery van? Why was it impounded and when?—It was found parked in the middle of an intersection with the engine running and was towed, 10 days ago.
What happened to Rachel, former employee of the El Dungeon?—She’s currently enjoying a cruise to Australia. (Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight. That’s what Raven wants us to think!)
Background check on Raven—How does she run a business when she can’t even complete a sentence?—No public records on Raven. No one he talked to knows her story. She doesn’t own the El Dungeon; everyone in Blackrock knows that Emma LeStrande owns it.
—Naturally I thought this was odd. Didn’t Emma LeStrande die a long time ago? Yes, Schneider said, she died 13 years ago, but no one knew where her will was. So the building is being held in trust, or something like that, until a will or an heir showed up. Anyway, back to the list:
5. Has Raven spent time in institutions—see question 4.
6. Background check on Attikol—His money came from his family. Certainly not from his gun and doll show. No criminal record at all. No permanent address, either.
7. Story of beige paint—Schneider is not actually sure. He remembers it happening: He was around my age, and it was near the time that Emma LeStrande
died. His current theory is that it was part of a project of the mayor’s called “Brighten Up, Blackrock!” when they made all these “improvements,” like installing new streetlamps all through town and putting planters full of artificial flowers in front of all the public buildings. Gahh
8. Story of tree stumps—They were cut down a long time ago to prevent disease. As if that makes any sense. Schneider is not sure why the one at the minipark was left alone, but his guess is that no one could locate the owner of the plot (Emma LeStrande, that is) to give permission. Or to pay the tree cutter to do it.
9. Where is the black rock this town is named after?—Still no answer on this one. Schneider will keep nosing around.
10. Vets in Blackrock—Only one, and Schneider had the address for me. You’ll never guess—it’s the El Dungeon’s address! And the vet is Schneider’s grandma. Funneee!
11. Buildings shifting an inch to the east—Not exactly, but check THIS out: The buzz is that Attikol intends to BUY all the buildings in town, then pay construction crews to move them. Wow, I knew he was rich, but that’s ridiculous.
12. Rachel is (was?) childless.
13. How long does it take to get over amnesia?—Could be a day, or a lifetime. Great.
Later-back at the El Dungeon
Noticed that HamHawk has a mini Magic 8-Ball on his keychain, you know, the kind that tells your fortune. I borrowed it from him and I’ve been asking it questions. Here’s what I got:
Is Raven a murderer? My sources say no.
Is Raven really the birdbrain I think she is? It is decidedly so.
Does Jakey know anything about my amnesia that he’s not telling me? Cannot predict now.
Can I expect more hassling from police and school board? Outlook good.
Is my family looking for me? Don’t count on it.
Will I ever find home? As I see it, yes.
Do the four black cats belong to Rachel? My reply is no.
Does the cool van belong to Rachel? Very doubtful.
Is Rachel really on a cruise to Australia? Concentrate and ask again.
Is Rachel alive? Reply hazy, try again.
Am I related to Rachel? Outlook not so good.
Have I found ANY clues to my real identity? You may rely on it.
Am I on the wrong track? Better not tell you now.
Later
I just reread the above entry. Smubbing Mongo! I am consulting toys for advice. I am clearly desperate!!!!
Later
I don’t think I believe a single thing that mini Magic 8-Ball had to say, and especially not answer #1! Just now, I was eating one of Raven’s sandwiches and bit into a big old wad of tinfoil. OK, maybe it was accidental. And then again, maybe next time I eat one of Raven’s sandwiches, I’ll swallow a big chunk of broken glass. Or a hearty layer of rat poison. Or maybe I’ll just start choking on a hunk of rotten cheese. Maybe Raven will “try” to give me the Heimlich, but she’ll “accidentally” end up crushing my rib cage instead. Aieeeee! Am starting to terrify myself here. All I can think about now is those times I’ve come back to the El Dungeon after sleuthing around the town, only to find Attikol whispering to Raven, and she’d look up at me, all guilty-like. What if she WANTS to date him, and hates me for giving him that dumb challenge in front of everyone, and she can’t say it’s OK if he can’t do it because he is convinced it would destroy his manly reputation in town? What if she’s only pretending to be dull in the brain so no one will suspect her of killing Rachel? What if she’s getting nervous that my memory will return and I’ll tell the police everything I know about her? What if Attikol hates me for giving him that impossible challenge and wants to see me sleep with the fishes tonight? WHY AM I GETTING HYSTERICAL? FORGET THAT, WHERE ARE MY PARENTS? I NEED OUT OF HERE NOW!!!
Later
I am in deep danger!
Could not stand another minute of the El Dungeon, so I went and knocked on Jakey’s trailer and interrupted his video game. Good thing no one wants to share a trailer with him. I guess telling the whole caravan about his roommates’ dreams worked pretty well for him.
I wasn’t actually expecting anything useful from him, but I got something anyway: He confirmed that Attikol does not like me and has been thinking of a way to get me out of the picture so he’ll have better luck with Raven.
ME:
[Starting to sweat, heart thumping. What do you mean, “get me out of the picture?” Are you trying to tell me he’s going to kill me?
JAKEY:
I don’t know what he’s planning. I haven’t seen him in days.
ME:
Why, what’s he doing?
J:
Take it easy. I heard he’s been having lunch with the mayor, paying off the police, stuff like that.
ME:
Oh Belgium! He’s going to kill me!
J:
Don’t be stupid. He might pay someone to kill you, but he would never do it himself.
ME:
OH…BRICKING…BELGIUM!!
PARROT:
OH…BRICKING…BELGIUM!!
J:
CALM DOWN, EVERYONE!
At that point I had to bail. Sun was coming up and I was feeling sort of disintegratey. Came back here to the lean-to and got under a big pile of cats. Am thinking again that I should get out of town. But I’m not looking forward to leaving these cats behind. And where am I going to go this time? Let’s see, names of towns, names of towns…can’t seem to remember any. SIGH. Will sleep on it and see what tomorrow brings.
Day 11
Dreamed that I was trapped under a big, heavy bed. Ugh!! All these dust bunnies were swarming around me, growing bigger and bigger, showing their fangs and rolling their red eyes. I kept barely squirming away from them before they could bite my face. The worst part was that I couldn’t really lift my head or arms or legs, so it was almost like being squashed into two dimensions, and it was super spooky. Then I noticed my feet were tingling as if I were getting electric shocks. I thought maybe I could electrocute some of the dust bunnies, so I kicked off my shoes and used my toes to feel around. I found some bare wires, wrapped my toes around them, and took a deep breath as I got ready for a big shock…But when I brought the wires together, all that happened was that the bed lifted up and let me go, and all the bunnies turned back into dust again.
Later
So it’s St. Clare’s Day today. I wouldn’t have known except I came into the El Dungeon and EVERYONE (except me and Raven) was on the phone. It’s normally not like that in here. But people weren’t having long conversations, either; they were dialing, leaving messages, hanging up, dialing.
ME:
Flathering bogyarks, what happened?
RAVEN:
Huuuhhh?
ME:
Why’s everyone on the phone? Did the White House blow up or something?
R:
Uhhhhh…Iono?
ME:
GAH. [Turning to HamHawk.] Why’s everyone on the phone? What happened?
HAMHAWK:
Hang on, I’m leaving voicemail. Hi, Mom. Just calling to wish you a happy St. Clare’s Day. And to tell you that I love you. And to thank you for all you do for me. OK, uh, see you tonight at dinner. [Hanging up.] Nothing happened. It’s St. Clare’s Day.
ME:
So, what, Clare is the patron saint of voicemail?
HH:
She’s the patron saint of phones, so no one is supposed to answer calls all day. Out of respect for her blessed sainthood.
ME:
But you’re all on the phone.
HH:
Not answering calls, though. Just leaving voicemail.
Like that makes any sense. But I’ll tell you what St. Clare’s Day accomplishes. Everyone is on the phone ALL DAY calling everyone in their address book, leaving them affectionate voicemails, listening to their own voicemails, sending reply voicemails to people they are glad to hear from, leaving even longer followup voicemails in reply to THOSE replies, and, i
n short, using the phone WAY MORE than any of them do on a normal day. Way to mess up a good idea.
Later
It’s been a pretty grim day so far. Can’t imagine what could have caused that. Maybe spending my day watching everyone else leave affectionate voicemails for their loved ones. How come no one has reported me missing? Do I really believe Raven killed my mother? WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE? Cannot stop wondering if I will ever remember my name or see my home again. Am trying to stay positive.
Am trying to talk myself out of hopping a random bus out of Blackrock.
Trying reeeeeeeeally hard.
Top 13 things in Blackrock:
Buses out of Blackrock.
Picture of imaginary black rock in all the official signage.
Police log in daily paper full of comedy. Today there was only one entry: “Homeowner in the 200 block of Coal Ave. reported someone had entered his home and stolen a 5-gallon glass jug full of coins. The only other thing missing was a swig of whiskey.” I’m not kidding.
