by Arthur Butt
"Maybe you'd better not talk to strangers," I advised, eyeing the crowd, "but we'll talk to you lots."
"Oh good. At least someone loves me. Let me think of what to talk about." Bev fell silent.
As we resumed our seats, Kat started giggling.
"What's so funny – Bev?" I asked.
"No, I was thinking of Hank schlepping piles of trash around." Kat tilted back her head and let out a chortle of joy. "I wonder if Sonja is cheering for him." She waved her hands in the air holding imaginary pom-poms. "You're the man, I'm your fan! You will move those garbage cans!"
"Shoes!"
"What, Bev? What are you talking about?" I asked.
"You said we’d talk a lot. I thought about boys, dresses, and I decided on shoes."
"What about shoes?" Kat asked, still chuckling.
"We'll talk about shoes later, Bev. Right now we need to return you to the lab."
"Well, just a little then." Along the way Bev informed us she was dying for a pair of high heel leather boots. "I would be walking tall and feeling fine," she said.
Kat whispered to me, "Do you think we should tell her she also needs feet?"
"Don't you dare," I said in horror, "I can't stand it when she cries."
Bev was still rattling on when we parked in the garage and went in search of Doc. We found him at his workbench, bits and pieces of metal scattered around as if he worked on a puzzle. When we entered he exclaimed, "How did they work?" He didn't appear at all concerned about our long absence.
"Huh?"
"My children, how did they perform? You did not kill them off again, did you?" He sounded worried.
"Ah," I had forgotten all about his mechanical toys. "We didn't get a chance to use any of your bots," I confessed. "I'll have Bev unload the whole lot, first thing, as soon as possible."
"Do not bother." He waved his hand. "Keep the whole bunch until you can test the little rascals." Doc pointed to the floor of his shop. "I really do not have any space available."
Prancing around on his floor were – things. At first, I thought they were alive until one stumbled over my foot and began trying to wiggle up my leg. It clamped onto the inside of my pants and began a slow, arduous climb toward my groin. I pulled the bot off before it became too friendly and examined it. Up close, they reminded me of eight-legged spiders with no heads.
"What in the world are they?" said Kat in a hushed voice.
The doctor's lips twitched up. "You admire my newest inventions? Right now, I am calling them Dumaflickies. I have not had time to name each one."
"What do they do?" I asked. I placed the one I held on the floor. It tripped over my feet, picked itself up, and wandered off to bounce into a wall.
"I have not decided yet, but enough about me." He folded his arms and his chair swung in our direction. "Did you locate your father?"
"Yes. They're back in town helping out. The place is still a mess," I replied. "I don't know what good it will do though. Morgan is taking over this whole part of the country. My pop says the Greys are backing him. Unimportant people don't stand a chance."
"The Greys you say, really?" The doctor declared, disconcerted. "We cannot have an annexation of the planet, it is terrible."
"Not much we can do about Morgan or the Greys, is there?" Kat replied. "We have to hope he doesn't realize we're rebuilding and leaves us alone." She shrugged, her mouth set in a bitter line. "Is it okay with you if we stay here tonight? We'll leave in the morning."
"Hmm . . ." Doc was drumming his fingers on his desk in agitation, staring into space. "Oh, of course," he muttered, "you are welcome to remain as long as you wish." He snapped out of his trance and pointed to his worktable and the floor. "A little messy in here, but –"
"We'll be sleeping in Bev; she's the same as a home to us now," I replied. An idea occurred to me. "Tell you what, Doc, let us help clean up," I volunteered. "It'll give us something to do and sorta repay you."
"Well –"
Kat and I found brooms and dust pans, but we needed shovels. Over the years, the doctor's creations crammed all the crud into the corners, and in places metal shreds, dust, and discarded food was a foot thick.
"Hey, Doc, do you have a place to throw this stuff?" We had bags and cans filled to the brim with smelly junk.
Doctor Krumboton was busy at his computer, typing in long mathematical equations. He waved vaguely toward Bev's garage without glancing up and muttered, "In there, storage room and incinerator."
We hauled the garbage with us into the other room. Bev piped up, "Presents? For me? How sweet."
"Garbage," I replied. "Where's the incinerator?"
"Oh," Bev said, disappointed. "Those double doors, next to the elevator on your left."
"Thanks."
Two wide swinging doors stood next to the shaft, which held the freight lift. We opened them and lights snapped on. Old equipment cluttered up the place, stacks of papers, and boxes of used parts teetered in the corners. Across one wall was a cutout with a steel flap and a large sign overhead marked "INCINERATOR" in large red letters.
After we dumped everything, we poked around in the room for whatever else we could chuck. Kat yanked some boxes out of the way and exclaimed, "Hunter, over here, check this out."
"What?" I nudged away more of the boxes and peered over her shoulder. Propped up against the wall was a long bulldozer blade. Kat dragged the rest of the boxes and machine parts out of the way until the whole thing was exposed.
"Wonder what Doc is doing with this?"
"Do you think it goes on Bev somehow?" Kat asked.
"If it did," I said, thinking out loud, "we could use it to help move the rubble in town."
We rushed back to Doc and told him what we'd unearthed. For once, his lab was silent – the Dumaflickies he'd created sat lifeless.
"Why, yes, the piece you describe belongs to B.E.V." He barely gave us a glance as he gazed at his computer screen in fascination and scribbled on a piece of paper. "The government thought it would be a good idea if she cleaned up the wreckage she caused after a battle," he mumbled, still writing in frantic haste. "So I built a plow for her. I never tested it, though." He placed his pencil down and rubbed his eyes, taking full notice of us. "She refused to wear it, insisted the coating was the wrong color."
"We'll stick it on her for you," I replied. "Uh," I said to Kat, "How do we drag the plow out of there, it must weigh a ton."
We both stared back at Doctor Krumboton.
His pencil was working again. He sighed, pulled open a drawer of his desk, and withdrew two green cubes. "They are of a special magnetic composition I designed," he said, handing the pieces over, "sticks to anything. Place one on either end of the plow and depress this button." He showed us where. "Their anti-gravity devices; make whatever they are attached to weightless."
He read the disbelief in our faces. "Those Egyptians, they knew what they were doing when they built the pyramids."
We started to thank him. Doc raised his hand in dismissal. "Do not thank me, thank the Egyptians. Now, you are both nice children, and I would love to chat with you all day, but as you see," he gestured to his computer, "I am busy. Go – talk to Bev, she will appreciate it more than I would at the moment."
We walked back to Bev. Kat whispered to me, "Sometimes I think the doctor isn't all there in the head."
"Me too," I agreed, "but right now we've got bigger problems. How are we gonna convince Bev to wear this thing if Doctor Krumboton couldn't. You know she's not going to want to."
Kat paused, her eyebrows bending down in thought. "I have an idea," she said at last. She smirked at me. "It's what BFFs do."
With Doc's cubes, it didn't take long to haul the blade over to Bev. When we maneuvered it in front of her she yelled in dread, "Oh, no, not the veil!"
"What's the matter?" Kat said in mock innocence.
"It's the mask of horror! Ugly, funny, work clothes. You're going to dress me up and pretend I'm a plow horse. I'll be the old gr
ey mare!"
"No, silly," Kat replied brightly. "This is a present for you."
"You're kidding – for me? But I thought –" She wiggled in excitement, "What is it?"
"A mask," Kat said, putting two fingers across her face. "We're going to a masquerade party tomorrow."
"A party? Really? I don't believe it."
"Really," I said, "and it's for you. Those men you met today are sorry for how they acted, and want to throw you a party to show they didn't mean what they did."
"Oh, put it on – put it on!" Bev pleaded. "Push it up against my front."
"You know how to wear it?" I asked as Kat and I manhandled the blade into place.
"Oh, yes, I never wear it because I thought –" Two slots on either side of her front slid open. "Slip 'er in. I want to see how I appear."
Before we went to sleep, I ran back into Doc's lab. "Hey, Doctor Krumboton, can we take these?" I held up the cubes.
Dancing motes of light from a halo-projector leaped in the air around his head, forming complex molecules, which undulated and weaved together. Doc leaned back in his chair, watching, with his pencil and paper in hand, sketching lines and nodding to himself.
"Oh, wow, Doc, what are you building?" He had swung back to his computer and typed furiously.
He jerked up from his worktable, unaware I entered his lab and watched him.
"Thinking, lad, thinking!" he roared. "When the thoughts emerge it is always best to go with them, you will never know when they answer again."
I remember the cubes I held. "Say, Doc, can we take these to town tomorrow. They would really help in the cleanup."
"I suppose so, but be careful," he warned. "Do not crush or break their casings. There is a lot of power stored inside. They will explode."
I stared at what I was holding. "Big explosion?"
"Very big. Be careful." He eyes grew wide and he said to himself, "Yes, if they were handled in the wrong manner they would cause extreme devastation."
Doctor Krumboton leaped back to his paper and computer and began changing calculations furiously, my presence forgotten. The projection floating around his head changed color and shape, danced faster, and expanded to fill half the room.
I stood watching him for a moment longer, and when he said nothing else, I tramped back to Bev holding the cubes as if they were two dead mice.
All the way to the town the next day we heard, "PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!"
"Bev, cut it out, will ya?" I complained after having listened all night, and all morning, to her racket. Kat and I abandoned trying to eat breakfast, keeping our fingers in our ears to drown out her singing.
"What, okay." Silence – then, "Party! Par —"
Kat and I spent the balance of the trip with pillows wrapped around our heads hoping for the best.
Bev was still chanting as we drove up to the city wall.
"How come no one else is in costume?" Bev ask, as the refugees outside scattered.
"Uh," I shot a sideways glance at Kat. "This is a private party," I said, trying to think up an explanation.
"Yeah, the real fun is inside," Kat put in. "You're a VIP you know. We couldn't invite everyone."
Bev was silent as she pondered this. "Oh, I see," she said at last. "These are the little people – my adoring public." She emitted a modest coughing noise. "I guess I must return later and make an appearance to keep them happy? Shake a few hands, slap a few backs, right?"
"Sure, Bev," I agreed, "but first let's go inside for the real bash."
We pulled up to the gate and stepped outside. The guards, who'd watched us approach in apprehension, fanned out with guns leveled. Kat and I sauntered over with hands up and they relaxed.
"Kat Brennan, Hunter Greene, are you alone?" one of the guards called out.
"Yeah, we're here to help," I shouted.
"Party, party, party."
"What's this thing babbling about?" He gestured with his gun. "I swear it's alive."
"Oh, nah," Kat said, "We're playing music." We dropped our hands. "Let our dads know we're here, okay?"
The guards nodded and threw open the gates.
"Thanks." We drove in and I said to Bev, "Are you ready to party?"
"Yeah, where is it? I don't see any balloons."
"Balloons come later," I said. A tractor passed us hauling a boulder. "First come games." I pointed. "You see Old Macdonald there? Whoever moves the most wins."
"Really?" She said, dubious. "Is it a fun game? Who else is playing?"
"Why, you and the tractor, silly," Kat exclaimed, "I mean, it is your party. Let's line up and get started with the race."
"Oh, okay. Yeah, this is going to be fun!"
"Ready, Bev?" Kat said, excited. "You can do it – ready? Set? GO!"
We guided Bev down the street. She lowered her blade and scooped up part of a roof, racing the tractor as the machine hauled stone to the wall.
Woman and children filed out of the shattered buildings to watch as Bev rumbled along. Soon she drew a crowd lining the road, cheering for her every time she cleared a path through the clogged side streets.
"I'm winning," Bev boasted as she passed the tractor for the tenth time.
"GO – GO – GO!" Kat and I chanted.
By the end of the day, Bev lugged more debris than the town managed to move in a month, and the streets were clear. Bev complained once, "Parties are a lot of work, aren't they?"
"Oh, wait, there's a lot more fun coming," Kat replied.
As it grew dark, we all assembled at the high school for a victory celebration. Some of the town women constructed a party hat for Bev. Kat placed the bonnet on her, tacking it down with double-backed ever-stick tape she discovered in a drugstore.
People wandered around, thanking us and patting Bev on her sides. She kept purring, "Oh, it was nothing – really."
Hank had hooked back up with Sonia. They strolled over, arms glued around each other. I whispered to Kat, "Uh, oh. Here comes squirrely and squirrelier. I hope we're not in for it."
"Your crazy machine did some job," Hank said, grinning, a sneer creeping into his voice. "Did you promise her a quart of oil?"
"Yeah," Sonia scoffed, as she examined Bev's paint job. "Who thought up those colors? This thing reminds me of a candy cane on drugs."
"Bev wanted this paint job," Kat leaped up and patted Bev's side, "and she's pretty, aren't you, honey?"
"I'm the prettiest one at this party," Bev whispered back to us, as Hank and Sonja strolled around her laughing, "but don't tell this slut, okay? I don't want to upset her."
"You know," I said to Kat, "I don't think she's a good influence on him. When he's alone, Hank's not a bad guy."
"He's trying to impress her," Kat guessed. "Let her know how rolly he is, maybe they're trying to impress each other."
Pop and Mr. Brennan arrived from the power station and hurried over. "You three did a fabulous job today," Mr. Brennan said, sitting. "I didn't think we would have those streets cleared in a year."
"We all gotta help, right?" I showed Pop the cubes. "I wanted to use these too, but I'm kind'a afraid." I stuck one on the rock we sat on and picked the whole thing up.
Pop stared, first at the boulder, and then at me in surprise. "How did you do –?"
"It's the cube," I said. "Doc lent it to us." I lowered the boulder, peeled of the cube, and handed the gadget to him.
He rotated the tiny block around, examining the device from all sides. "I would want to take this apart and see how it works if you do not mind," he said, handing the device back.
"We have a problem," I admitted. "Doc said the cube would explode if anyone messed around with it."
"Hmm . . . better return it to him. We could use this gadget, but we do not need any unexpected explosions around here. I'd want to talk to this Doctor Krumboton one day, though."
Kat asked her dad, "How's the rest of the repairs going?"
Mr. Brennan let out a groan and shook his head. "We have the sewer system wo
rking again."
"Oh, Yeah?" Kat said. "Great. What was the matter?"
"Uh –" He glanced at Pop.
"It was clogged with bodies, Kat. We had to pull them out, one by one, and bury each."
"Oh, I'm sorry." She was quiet for a moment and then asked, "Do you know who they were?"
"No, at least not personally," her father replied. "They were part of the Mormon congregation, must have hid in the sewers to escape the attack and drown."
"I hope all this work we are doing doesn't go for nothing," Pop continued with a sigh.
"What do you mean?" I asked. "Everything has to be fixed to get back to normal, right?" We couldn't leave the town in the mess it was in.
"Mr. Greene, do you mean you believe Morgan will attack again one day?" Kat asked, worry in her voice. She fidgeted on her rock. "I wouldn't think he'd return for years. There's not much left here for him."
Pop picked up a stick and drew three circles in the dirt. "He may be back sooner, Kat. After you left yesterday, a bunch of us got to talking. Morgan attacked us here –" he tapped the middle circle "—you rescued Mr. Brennen here." He poked the circle to the right. "Afterward you came and freed me at Morgan City." He stabbed the last circle. "Both men saved from the same town within three months of each other with us in the middle. Sooner or later, someone will add two and two together and arrive at Paradise Cove."
Pop jabbed the stick at Bev. "What is worse, you used this machine."
"Well, I never – machine?"
Pop called out, "Sorry, Bev," when he heard the rumble. He continued with a chuckle, "High-Tec equipment which Morgan would love to place his hands on. We figure, there is a good chance he will attack again searching for her."
My jaw dropped. "I never realized," I said. What a jerk I'd been. "I'm sorry."
Kat's eyes widened with worry and her lips trembled. "You mean they'll come back and invade after all we've been through?"
"You do not have to be sorry, Hunter," Mr. Brennan said, rubbing his chin with a smile. "If it was not for you and your crazy machine, your dad and I would be Morgan's zombies." He said to Kat, "We aren't sure, Kat, but it's something we have to think about."