“We ain’t got time to play at being Sherlock Holmes, so we gonna take some shortcuts,” Susan said, “This here is an Umbrameter.”
“What?” Clementine asked.
“Umbra from the Latin for shadow, and meter, which means to measure,” Susan said.
Grady smiled like he got it. He didn’t. “Yeah dude, but what’s it do?”
“Duh…It measures shadows,” Clementine said.
“The shadow ya cast shows ya where you is,” Susan said. “But your yesterday shadow shows where ya been and your tomorrow shadow, that shows where your likely gonna be.”
“Likely?” Newton repeated.
Susan sensed his skepticism, but plowed ahead. “Likely. Umbramatics is really more of an art than a science.”
“Umbramatics?” Newton repeated.
“Shadow math,” Susan said.
While the whimsical machine was charmingly retro, it was just as hopelessly complicated and didn’t inspire confidence in her grandiose claims.
“Where’d ya get that thing anyway?” Spider asked.
“Belonged to Ronco,” Susan said, “used to be part of his act.”
“Husband number three, if’n you’re keeping score,” Clementine said.
Newton whirled the projector’s carousel. “How’s this gonna help us find Drew?”
“Glad ya asked,” Susan said, and showed them what she’d hidden behind her back. The camera was an ancient Polaroid model with a folding bellows, the kind that shot instant film and not in much demand anymore.
“How’s it work?” Grady asked.
“Like any other camera,” Susan said, “Except this one takes pictures of your shadows.”
She pressed the button and the bulb popped, blinding Grady for the moment. “Dude, a little heads-up would be nice.”
The camera started grinding like a garbage disposal, spitting the photo out an inch at a time.
Clementine pulled the photo from the camera’s slot and watched the image fade in. “Big deal. It’s just a picture of Grady.”
Newton snuck a peek over her shoulder and agreed. “Yeah. I don’t see anything special.”
“You will,” Susan promised. She snapped a picture of each of them and put the photos into the Umbrameter’s slots, advancing the tray one notch each time.
After everything was in place and her contraption set like she wanted, she waved them back and flipped the switch. The machine revved for a minute before getting to speed.
“W-W-Whoa!” Newton stammered. He stepped backward, startled by the sudden appearance of the ghostly apparitions moving across every flat surface.
“What you’re seeing is a replay of yesterday’s shadows,” Susan explained.
They watched the disembodied shades moving across the Windmill, replaying every action they’d taken all the way up to the moments before they arrived from the train station. The effect was hypnotic, if not spooky.
“How’s it gonna know to pick Drew’s shadow out from all the others?” Grady asked.
Susan pointed out the dials built into the contraption’s base. “It don’t. Ya have to fine tune it like a radio, clear out the static and what not.”
“That’s why you took our pictures,” Clementine said. “To see what our shadows looked like so you could tune ‘em out and leave Drew’s behind.”
Susan grabbed a piece of notebook paper and scribbled some hieroglyphic formulas down. “We can use Umbramatics to find him.”
The formulas left Newton unimpressed. “We know where he’s been, but we don’t know where he’s at. How can we solve for X without knowing either where he’s at or where he’s gonna be?”
Susan paused before answering. “Because I know where he’s gonna be.”
Her answer confused Newton. “Whatcha mean?”
“Drew came to me for a reading way back when, just before all this Crypto-Punk business started,” she said.
“A reading?” Clementine repeated, “What do ya mean a reading?”
“The Tarot,” Susan announced. “He wanted a little peek of what was gonna happen, so that’s what I give ‘im.”
“And?” Clementine said.
“And after he left, I kinda had a hunch, so I skipped ahead...”
“So you know where he’s gonna be?” Newton asked.
“I do,” Susan answered, “but I don’t know when he’s gonna be there.”
They broke out into relieved smiles before she finished her sentence. They’d spent the last few days a step behind, now, they had the advantage.
Clementine headed for the door. “Let’s go! We can surprise ‘em.”
But Newton lingered. “Wait…You took our pictures too.”
This was a conversation Susan didn’t want to have. “The further down the road you look, the fuzzier your shadow is.”
“That means you can tell us where we’re gonna be,” Newton said.
“Are ya sure ya wanna know?” Susan asked. “Are ya sure all of y’all wanna know?”
“What do ya mean?” Clementine asked.
“Because if I tell one of ya, I gotta tell all of y’all,” Susan said, and waited for them to figure it out.
And then Newton did. “Because our shadows overlap.”
“What?” Spider said.
“Because we overlap. We’ve known each other since we was kids. And we’re gonna know each other when we’re grown-up,” Newton said.
“Knowing what happens to one of us will let the others figure out what happens to them,” Clementine said.
Susan left it up to them, knowing that even if they didn’t want to know then, they might want to know someday.
They stared at each other expectantly, each of them eager for one of the others to remove the temptation of prescience from their easy reach.
Grady spoke, making the decision for all of them. “Dude, let’s just figure out where Drew is now and worry ‘bout reading our fortunes later.”
Susan handed Clementine the camera. “I got one more thing I gotta get outta my garage. I’ll be back after it gets dark.”
“But following Drew’s shadow ‘round corners and into alleys is gonna get us killed,” Newton said. “The rest of the Botkins are still out there.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Think I maybe gotta way to take care of them,” Spider said.
CHAPTER 7
Clementine passed the public library’s main branch every day on her way to school, though she’d never gone in before. Fluted columns and polished limestone gave the neoclassical monument a dignity the surrounding architecture lacked, serving as a stark reminder of the city’s glory days.
She pedaled her Schwinn up the ramp and on to the sidewalk before crashing into a bus stop bench.
“Any landing you can walk away from, right Clem?”
She didn’t recognize Newton at a distance. He’d switched from his new coat to his old ratty one and had his ski mask pulled down almost over his eyes.
She checked the front rim for damage. “Been a while since I rode my bike.”
Newton locked his Huffy up next to hers. He watched the Blankmobile pull in front of a hydrant across the street as expected. “Guess they got outta the tunnel before the train got ‘em.”
“They picked up my trail outside Mr. Hero,” Clementine said. “Went in to grab a sandwich for lunch and they were there when I came out.”
“What’d ya have?”
“Romanburger,” she said. “What are ya wearing?”
He pulled his coat back to show her. “Nike Pro Combat Loin Guard. They make ‘em for elite athletes and...”
“You’re wearing your underwear on the outside of your pants?”
He smiled at her naiveté. “Its not underwear, it’s Nike Pro…”
“It’s a diaper…”
He tapped his fingers against the garment’s gray outer shell. “Kevlar. Means it’s bulletproof.”
“That’s great news,” she said, “Just the other day we were eating lunch
, wondering if you had some kinda plan to safeguard your loins. Now I can relax.”
“That’s an added bonus,” he said, “but this garment has other benefits.”
“Like?”
“I can go, anytime, anywhere, even when they least expect it.”
“You can do that now,” she said.
“When the heat is on, we won’t have time to slow down, not even for a second.”
“But you got time now, while we’re talking…”
“Don’t gotta go now,” he said, “Only happens when I get nervous.”
She snapped his picture with her cell. “I am posting this.”
“You don’t know anything,” Newton said. “Superman wears his on the outside, and Batman does too.”
“Then where’s your cape?” she asked, “Those guys got capes, too.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But why not wear it on the inside?” she said, “You still get the same benefits.”
“Protection is only one of the features,” Newton said, “and goin’ undercover defeats the Loin Guard’s most important function.”
“Which is?”
“Intimidation,” he growled.
“What do ya mean?”
“Not even the baddest gangsta is gonna mess with a baller who wears his underwear on the outside of his pants,” Newton said.
She zipped her jacket up and tucked her hair beneath her ski mask. “Who ya think really snatched Drew?”
“Ain’t sure,” he said. “But we’re running outta suspects.”
Who had Drew wasn’t important. That they had him at all was she reminded herself. “What do ya think they’ll do to him when they figure out he don’t know where Lazy-Eye Susan is?”
Newton pulled his ski mask over his face. “Torture ‘im.”
“Torture?” she repeated, “How?”
He pulled his pants up and took a deep breath. “Was thinking ‘bout this last night…”
“And?”
“One of the sites I bookmarked was a forum ‘bout interrogation techniques,” he said.
She remembered what he’d typed into his browser to find the videos of the schools blowing up. “You really should think about seeing that psychiatrist I mentioned.”
“There’s this back to basics torture movement…”
“I never thought I’d ever hear those words in that combination,” she said. “Now, I can die in peace.”
“They wanna get back to twisting necks, cracking backs, and manipulating joints.”
She took a second to sort out what he’d said. “That sounds like stuff a chiropractor does.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You said it, I didn’t.”
“What?”
“Who do ya think the CIA uses to sweat the bad guys?” he asked.
“Chiropractors?”
“Chiropractors,” he agreed. “And you don’t wanna go messin’ with the brotherhood.”
“The brotherhood?”
“The secret and majestic order of the chiropractic guild,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. Maybe he wasn’t either. Maybe that was the joke.
She pulled her ski mask down over her face and Newton did the same. They bounded up the steps, past the reclining stone lions guarding the entrance, and entered through the library’s double-doors.
***
They pedaled down Horizon Boulevard weaving between parked cars with practiced recklessness. The snow fell sideways, whipped by the wind into a blinding frenzy, and though visibility was poor, traffic was light and there weren’t any other idiots riding their bikes in the middle of the storm.
Grady adjusted his ski mask so he could see. He checked over his shoulder to make sure the Blankmobile was still behind them. “Dude, switching coats was genius!”
Spider agreed, because it was his idea. The Botkins saw two of them go into the library and two of them come out. They’d taken the bait, freeing Newton and Clementine to sneak out of the back and take the pictures Lazy-Eye Susan’s contraption required.
“We must all look alike to them,” he decided.
He felt self-conscious riding Clementine’s bike, and Grady didn’t help by suggesting he ride side-saddle. But it was lighter than he was used to, making him faster and nimbler.
He got her bike and Grady got her coat, though Spider wasn’t sure where the red-headed wig came from. “He musta brought it from home.”
Grady tucked his flowing locks beneath his mask. “Wonder how come we’re still alive?”
“What do ya mean?”
“We took out their boy,” Grady said. “We took out Clark Bent.”
“Think they want revenge?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Grady asked.
“Then why they following us ‘round instead of just taking us out?”
“Think these guys are labor, not management,” Grady said. “Must be waiting for the Don’s approval.”
“Don? Ya mean like Mafia Don?”
“Dude, somebody’s gotta call the shots,” Grady said.
Spider laughed. “So who’s the head of the family? Is Mr. Potato Head running the Vegetable Mafia?”
“Mr. Potato Head’s a toy,” Grady said, “these guys are for real.”
“You’re high…”
“Somebody put a contract out on Drew,” Grady said.
They stopped when the light turned red. Spider looked back at the Blankmobile but the car’s tinted windows kept him from seeing inside the vehicle. “What else they into?”
“Same stuff as the regular mob I guess,” Grady said, “extortion, kidnapping, loan-sharking.”
“People or plants?”
“Plants,” Grady said.
“How much ransom can a rhododendron pay?”
“None. But they got no use for money, anyhow.”
“Why not?” Spider asked. “What do they use instead?”
The light flashed green and Grady started pedaling again. “Fertilizer.”
“Fertilizer?”
“Worth its weight in gold to them,” Grady said.
Spider knew he was making it up as he went along, but loved to listen to him exercise his vivid imagination. “Or they could use money like everybody else and buy all the poo they want.”
“Bankers won’t let ‘em,” Grady said, “that’d bring down their economy.”
“Yeah. Yeah. How ya tell a banker from any other kind of Botkin?” Spider asked. “Except for Clark Bent, they all look alike.”
“Dude, he’d be the one with the cow,” Grady said, “The cow with the talented butt.”
Spider was digging deeper than he’d planned, but he had to know. “What’s a talented butt?”
“They can squeeze different denominations out like a Play-Doh Fun Factory. Quarters, nickels, dimes, you name it.”
“You gotta good profile,” Spider said, “maybe ya should see ‘em about having ‘em put your head on a coin.”
They passed Uncle Sam’s Pawn Shop and 14th Avenue was the next intersection. Spider lowered his head into the stiff wind. “Time to really mess with these freaks.”
Grady agreed. He broke formation, taking a hard left on to 14th while Spider hung a right.
***
They traced Drew’s daily orbit from the three-bedroom row house on Hanover where he lived to Madison Central and every point in between. The camera flashed and whirred each time they stopped, grinding out a three by five glossy snapshot when Clementine pressed the button.
The wind picked up again, so she pulled her hoodie over her ears. She was about Grady’s size and his jacket almost fit, though she’d jammed the vest’s zipper when slipping into it.
Spider was taller than Newton and his parka’s sleeves longer. Newton kept rolling them up, but they kept unrolling all by themselves.
“Just leave ‘em alone,” Clementine said.
Being alone together felt awkward for both and made for strained conversatio
n. Newton noticed changes in Clementine since her return, little differences in her mannerisms, affectations she shared with the rest of the Janes. Or maybe this was the way she’d always been and he’d just never noticed.
“How come you stopped eating lunch with us?”
She pressed the camera’s button. She knew she’d have to have the conversation eventually, and was pretty sure Newton would be the one to start it. “Didn’t make a plan or nothing…just kinda happened.”
“What’s it like?” he asked.
She waved the developing picture back and forth. “What’s what like?”
“Sitting all the way over at that other table.”
They started down the street again. “Didn’t even know it was happening. Went over there to talk to Denise ‘bout something and we just kept talking ‘til lunch was over. The next day she saved me a seat next to her.”
“Inertia,” he said.
“Inertia?”
“Inertia,” he explained. “The resistance of any object to changes in its state of motion.”
“Anyway, after a few days in a row, felt kinda weird coming back to sit with you guys.” She aimed the camera and pressed the button again. “I don’t even know that I like ‘em all that much except for Denise. They’re all into the same things and all wear the same kinda clothes. Gets kinda boring.”
He knew she was just saying that to make him feel better. But it wasn’t like he wanted her to feel miserable…actually that was exactly what he wanted, just not for too long.
She mashed the crosswalk button and waited for the signal to change. “Hey…What’s goin’ on down there?”
Seeing kids loitering in front of Comicopia wasn’t unusual, but seeing those kids there was.
Newton strained his eyes, trying to make out their faces. “Parker and his boys...”
“That Mickey-D with ‘em?” she asked.
“Think it is.”
“Guess they didn’t make the trip either,” she said.
“Looks like they’re messing with him,” Newton said. “That Parker sure is a…”
“He ain’t that bad,” Clementine muttered.
Her lukewarm defense was disappointing but not surprising. Was it possible she even liked the big goon?
“What do we do?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, “too many of ‘em.”
Parker and his boys had Mickey-D cornered up against Comicopia’s wall, but he didn’t look panicked despite being outnumbered, so they watched a little longer.
“What’s goin’ on?” Clementine wondered.
The beatdown they anticipated didn’t happen. Instead, Mickey-D handed Parker something before they parted company without incident.
“What do ya suppose that’s all about?” Clementine asked.
The Smiley-Face Witches Page 9
