Cal’s girlfriend, K’tlynn, had asked to see his phone a few weeks back and, without his permission, had programmed it to play the Katy Perry tune when she called him. Cal was not a big Katy Perry fan, but he left it on his phone, so as not to offend K’tlynn.
The idea of having a girlfriend had been appealing at first. Cal had not really had a girlfriend before, one he could kiss and hug, and be amorous with. Oh, he had a best friend, who was a girl—that was Camm. He had grown up next door to her and been attracted to her as long as he could remember. When he had tried a few romantic moves in high school, she had quickly put him in his place—sometimes painfully.
Last summer, he thought she might be starting to like him in the same way he liked her. But, then they’d both headed off to college, and Camm had grown distant. While calls and texts kept them in touch, she was all business and said nothing about her social life, even when Cal talked about some of the things he was doing with K’tlynn. Of course, he would much rather be dating Camm, but he couldn’t judge her feelings about him. If Camm was bothered by Cal dating K’tlynn, she didn’t show it in their phone calls. He decided he would have to see the whites of Camm’s eyes to know when it was safe to go after her again.
In the meantime, he was finding that a girlfriend was a fulltime occupation. He had not really known how to go about getting a girlfriend, but that had not been a problem, since he was tall, good looking, and played on the freshman football squad.
Several girls had been interested in him, but K’tlynn had been the one who had landed him. After all, she was extraordinarily pretty. With platinum blond hair, large blue eyes, and a petite, but curvy figure, Cal thought she was pretty enough to be a model or even an actress.
It was pretty cool, in the beginning. They went to dances, plays, and sporting events together. She even took him home for Sunday dinner. Lately, though, Cal had begun to worry about their relationship—a small, but nagging worry.
Two things had happened to cause him concern. First, he had walked up to her while she was talking with her friends. They had been giggling about something, but got very quiet when Cal approached. He hadn’t been paying close attention to what they were saying, but became suspicious when they all got quiet.
Later, he played it back in his mind and became convinced that K’tlynn had been talking about her wedding day with her friends. She had been discussing her colors, her wedding gown, and who her bridesmaids would be. Cal wasn’t sure he wanted to be dating someone who was so anxious to get married.
The second thing that concerned him was a conversation he had with K’tlynn’s father. Her father was a high-powered attorney with a prestigious national law firm. He mainly practiced white-collar criminal defense in federal court. One night after dinner, he had asked Cal what his plans were after he graduated.
“Son,” he said. He always called Cal son. “What are you going to do with yourself after you get that sheep skin?”
Truthfully, Cal had not thought about it much. He was just enjoying being on the football team and going to his classes, which were mostly general education courses.
“I dunno, I’m still thinking about it,” was his honest reply.
“Well, son, it’s time to start making decisions. And, I’m going to be frank, my boy. You’re tall and strong, but you don’t have what it takes to play professional ball. You can’t depend on the NFL to pick you up after college. You need to decide what you are going to do with your life after football, and start preparing now for a good career.”
Cal had been a little offended. Every player at Florida State held out some hope of going to the NFL. No one, especially a freshman, wanted to hear that he didn’t have what it takes. Cal still hoped the NFL would be his career after college.
Stammering as he searched for a non-offensive response, Cal had finally said, “I dunno. I was thinking of maybe teaching phys-ed in high school if I don’t get picked up by the NFL. One way or another, I was thinking I could make football my career.”
K’tlynn’s father had put his arm around Cal in a patronizing manner before responding, “Oh, don’t do that. There’s no money in teaching high school. You’ll be poor your whole life.
“You want to go to law school, that’s what you want to do. Change your major to English. English majors do the best in law school. That’s what I did. Go to law school, and I will get you on with my firm when you graduate. You’ll make a lot more money. Trust me on this.”
Cal had squirmed out of the man’s grip and made an excuse to get away, but had quickly made up his mind about a few things. He was not ready to be dating someone who was thinking about marriage and whose father wanted to guide his career. And, if he didn’t get into the NFL, he was going to teach high school physical education, no matter how much it paid.
Katy Perry began playing again. Cal sighed, seriously considering not answering his phone, but then decided his feast could wait a few minutes longer. His mouth was watering like a waterfall, so he swallowed a mouthful of saliva and answered his phone.
“Yello.” He tried to not sound disappointed at the inconvenient interruption.
“Hey baby, what cha doin’?” Being from Florida, K’tlynn had a slight southern drawl.
“Uh, nothin’. Uh, you know, just thinking of you.”
“You’re not eating are you? We’re eating at my parents tonight. I don’t want you to lose your appetite. Remember, I told you to not eat before we go.”
Cal didn’t understand her concern. He had never lost his appetite in his whole life.
“I’m not eating,” he lied, but then thought, At least, not at this very moment.
Cal knew that a little bowl of beans would not make him lose his appetite, and he liked his own cooking better than he liked K’tlynn’s mother’s cooking.
“I’ll pick you up in about an hour, you know, like we agreed.”
“I know, but I finished my homework early and thought maybe we could go now.”
Cal was not going to miss out on his fresh, hot bowl of home-cooked beans.
“I’m still doing stuff, you know, here. I’ll see you in about a half hour. Okay?”
“Okay.” K’tlynn sounded disappointed. “I just thought maybe you wanted to see me, too.”
Cal sighed to himself. “I do. I do. I just need to finish some stuff here. See you in about twenty minutes. Okay? I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”
“Okay, baby.” She still sounded disappointed. “See you then.”
The call had been annoying, but nothing was going to get between Cal and those beans. He pushed K’tlynn out of his mind and sat down to eat with gusto. However, before he could start, he was interrupted again. In walked one of Cal’s roommates, Lenny.
“Dude,” Lenny said as a form of salutation.
“Hey,” Cal responded with a nod, trying to hide the bowl of beans behind the box of Goldfish crackers.
Lenny eyed the beans, and then looking at Cal with a question on his face said, “Dude?”
This time it meant, Can I have some beans?
Cal sighed and spooned half the beans into another bowl for Lenny. As Lenny began to stuff his face, he smiled at Cal and said, “Dude!”
The meaning now was, These beans are great, thanks!
Half of Lenny’s vocabulary consisted of that one word: “Dude.” The way Lenny said it could mean a thousand different things, anything from, “How’s it going?” to “Hey, come here” to “Toss me a Coke” or “You annoy me, get lost!”
Halfway through the first semester, Cal had determined that Lenny’s name was not really Lenny, but was Sebastian Cornelius Humanistaid. Lenny was the youngest son in a politically prominent, old-money family, and he had been named after great grandfathers from both his father’s and mother’s side of the family tree. Cal had asked him why he went by Lenny if that wasn’t his real name. Lenny replied with an intense, almost painful, look on his face. “Dude!” This time it meant, well, this time Cal didn’t know what it meant.
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Lenny and Cal had become good friends. When Lenny heard that Cal was from California, he had assumed Cal was a surfer, which he wasn’t. Lenny, who was from New Jersey, was a surfer. He belonged to a small cadre of New Jersey surfers who lived near the shore. Lenny had never even been to California, though he had been surfing in Hawaii.
Lenny was taller than Cal, which was pretty tall, and sported a long, sun-bleached-blond ponytail. He was a top-notch physics major and a talented basketball player. He was not on the basketball team, though, because he had no competitive spirit. He never cared what the score was. He just loved playing basketball. He was always as happy after a loss as he was after a win.
While Lenny was an “A” student, he never studied. He also never slept, except in class. Most of the time, he didn’t seem to be paying attention in class. If he was, he didn’t seem to understand what was being taught. Sometimes in class he would look at Cal with a furrowed brow and shake his head from side to side, whispering, “Dude?” which meant, What?
But then, without any more effort, he would ace the next test. Cal thought it would be to his advantage to study with Lenny, except for the fact that Lenny never studied.
Most people avoided Lenny because he was odd and didn’t bathe much. Lenny considered a trip to the beach with a couple hours surfing as a sufficient substitute for the week’s bath. Cal didn’t mind his roommate’s eccentricities and enjoyed his unique view of life.
After wolfing down his half bowl of beans, Cal rushed over to pick up K’tlynn. While driving her to her parents’ home, K’tlynn interrogated Cal. “Were you eating, Cal? You smell like bacon and baked beans. Really, Cal! I asked you not to eat.”
K’tlynn had an unnaturally high, cartoon-like voice that made her sound like she was whining no matter what she said. Sometimes, it got on Cal’s nerves.
“Oh, you know me,” he joked. “I always smell like beans. Besides, Lenny was eating baked beans when I left the apartment.” He sniffed his shirt sleeve. “You know, sometimes your clothes can pick up smells.”
She didn’t smile, but studied him a moment. “Cal,” she asked, “did you change your major to English, like Daddy told you?”
No, I freakin’ did not! he thought, but instead, said calmly, “Not yet.”
“Why not? You know Daddy is just trying to help. He’s real smart. You should change your major so you can go to law school, like Daddy said.”
“You know, I’m still just a freshman. There’s plenty of time. Let’s not worry about that now. Between football practice and homework, I got a lot going on right now.”
“Well, don’t take forever. Next year you’ll be a sophomore, you know.”
No kidding, he thought sarcastically.
They pulled up in front of K’tlynn’s home, a large Mediterranean style home with rose-colored stucco and a red-tile roof. Being from a small desert town, Cal was still getting used to Florida’s opulent communities. K’tlynn’s parents lived in a particularly expensive neighborhood.
As Cal opened the car door for his girlfriend, his cell phone went off. This time with just the normal ring. Juggling the phone with one hand, Cal pulled K’tlynn up with the other. He glanced at his phone while K’tlynn slid out of the car.
“Uh, hey, this is my mom. I better get this.”
“Oh,” K’tlynn whined, “let it go to voice mail. We’re with my parents now.”
Cal gave her a penetrating look. “This is my mother. I’m taking this call. You go ahead. I’ll meet you inside in just a minute.”
Cal answered the phone as K’tlynn stomped her tiny little feet up to the front door with a pouty expression on her face.
Camm and Sally had just left their dorm building on their way to a freshman writing class when a friend from their dorm came running to catch them from behind.
“Camm!” she yelled. “The phone is for you, back at the dorm.”
Camm glanced down at her cell phone, which was on, but quiet. “What phone?”
“The phone in the super’s office.”
Camm and Sally whirled around to hurry with her to the dorm administrative offices.
“Why would someone call me on that phone?”
Their friend shrugged. “He said he’s from the dean’s office. That’s all I know.”
Camm looked at Sally, who gave her a worried look. Camm felt sick to her stomach. This was not something she wanted to hear. It was only weeks to finals and the end of the school year.
Camm’s late-night encounter with the two frat boys had been several weeks ago, but it had been all the talk around the dorm. Overnight, Camm had become a celebrity. Mark’s broken nose had been obvious to everyone, and Dwight was still wearing sunglasses to hide two black eyes. Everyone teased Camm about never being invited to another frat party. That was actually okay with Camm, though she didn’t make a big deal about it.
Initially, Camm had worried the incident would get her kicked out of school. But, when nothing happened, she had convinced herself that nothing would. Surely those two idiots were too proud to tattle on her, and in truth, they had started the fight.
But now this call. Camm was doing well in school—she didn’t need this. She jogged back to the dorm so as not to keep the dean waiting. Pausing to calm her breathing and fast-beating heart, she picked up the handset with trepidation and answered, “This is Camm Smith.”
An unnaturally deep voice responded, “Young lady, have you been fighting again?”
It was Cal, trying to make his voice sound like how he thought a dean would sound.
“You moron. You scared the crap out of me.”
Camm was more than annoyed. Cal laughed, sounding very pleased with himself.
Of course, Camm had told Cal all about the late-night incident with the lights going out and the masks and everything. She and Cal talked or texted almost daily.
“You are, without a doubt, a total drooling moron.”
“You’re a big ol’ hairy Amazon.” Cal shot back. To Cal’s great amusement, Camm had reported all the names Dwight had called her.
“This Amazon is going to kick your drooling moron butt as soon as she gets the chance!”
Cal was still laughing. Camm noticed the girl who had called her to the phone was giving her a funny look. This was an odd way to talk to someone from the dean’s office.
Camm felt better after trading insults. She always felt better after talking to Cal.
“Why did you call me on this phone anyway?” They had agreed to use a landline in certain emergency situations. She was now afraid of what Cal’s answer might be.
Cal got serious. “I’m on a landline, too, at a pay phone. Camm, we have a Code Red.”
“Oh, no!” Camm’s heart sank. She and Cal had agreed before leaving Trona what and how they would communicate with each other if certain things happened in their home town. Code Red was their agreed upon term for “another child has gone missing in Trona.”
They suspected their cell phones were bugged, so if they needed secrecy, they decided to find other ways to talk, like third-party landline phones, which they thought were harder to tap for eavesdropping, since no one would know in advance which phones they were going to use.
“How do you know?” She asked.
“My mom called yesterday. A friend from Trona called her in Houston. It happened a couple weeks ago, but she just heard about it now.”
“Who was it?”
Cal whispered, “Dylan Justenough.”
Camm rolled her eyes. Whispering over the phone didn’t help. She vaguely knew who Dylan was. She certainly knew the Justenough family.
“Okay,” Camm decided. “Let’s do plan B.”
“I forget, what’s plan B?”
Camm sighed. What was the point of creating advance plans if she had to tell him over the phone what the plan was?
“We each buy prepaid phones. I text you on your old phone, in code, the number of my new phone. From then on, we use our prepaids to communicate any pri
vate information.”
“Okay. What was the code again?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cal. Forget the phones. I’ll come see you in Houston in about a month, after school gets out. We will decide from there.”
“Cool! Stay out of trouble in the meantime. You know, quit beatin’ up the frat boys.”
As Camm walked to class, her heart ached for Reverend Justenough’s family. She remembered when Cal’s younger brother, Hughie, went missing. The thought was still painful.
If only it had been a call from the dean’s office, instead of this.
IV
The man sat frowning in his dreary Washington D.C. office. There were no pictures on the walls, no mementos on the shelves, no personal items on the desk. There were books, dozens and dozens of books, but no warmth, no personality to his surroundings. He sat slumped forward, staring out his office window at the colorful cherry blossoms. The cheery spring view did nothing to dispel his foul mood.
He ran his fingers through his long, white hair and sighed. He had some of the smartest scientists in the world working for him, but still there were too many gaps in the latest theory they were working on.
Theory! If only it was just theory. That was the problem. It was reality. It was actually happening, and they couldn’t explain it—they couldn’t control it. As a theoretical physicist, he could handle theory, but reality was kicking his butt.
The intercom on his phone buzzed and the receptionist said, “Excuse me, sir. An Agent Allen from the FBI is here. She is asking to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment.”
The darkness to his mood deepened. He remembered Agent Allen from the Trona incident. His face looked as if he wanted to swear, but he did not use profanity. He considered it a waste of time and a sign of a weak intellect.
“Show her to the conference room. I’ll meet her there in a few minutes.” No one was ever brought to his office. Every piece of paper on his desk was top secret. Since his desk was covered in papers, it was just easier to see people somewhere else when it became necessary—which was not often.
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