17
I woke with a gasp, racked with tremors, teeth chattering.
Mason was ready with a mountain of blankets. He wrestled them from the floor to my lap in one big heap.
Fox sat on the coffee table, watching me closely. “How’d it go?”
I sat, shivering and half aware, but I felt a smile tug at my face. For the first time in what felt like forever, I knew what to do.
“He can’t touch anyone or anything,” I said. “If he does, the curse is broken.”
“How does that help us?”
“We’re going to make him so angry that he breaks the curse himself. I need to dig up more ammunition, though. As soon as I can get my fingers working again.” I blew into my cold-stiffened hands, trying to still their trembling.
We switched on the TV again while I pulled myself together.
The first thing we saw was a picture of Uncle Bill in the corner of the screen. “More than a dozen arrests have been made since the first Mothman sighting yesterday, mostly involving charges of trespassing or destruction of public property. But the most notable of those is local businessman Bill Reevey, an employee of Fletcher Auctions who was arrested today on suspicion of orchestrating the recent rash of sightings…”
I moved to turn the channel, but Fox stopped me. “I want to see this.”
But they’d already moved on to the next segment. A reporter stood in front of the Field House, where a huge crowd had gathered. Some of them were protesters, marching with signs declaring, WE BELIEVE! and BEWARE THE MOTH and even THE END IS NEAR.
Another group carried signs saying things like, GET A LIFE and BUGS ARE PEOPLE, TOO, and THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE. The two groups kept shouting insults at each other.
A third group seemed to be early tailgaters, supporters of the two high school teams slated to play in the championship game. They wore either the red and black of the Rebels or the green and gold of the Bulldogs, and they didn’t shout at each other so much as just made a lot of noise in general.
“What are all those people doing there?” I demanded, sitting up. “Do we have to save them, too?”
We heard a car pull up out front. Mason ran to the front window. “It’s Aunt Barb!”
“Is Uncle Bill with her?” Fox said.
“No.”
When Barb walked in, she was calm on the outside, but on the inside I could tell a mighty storm was brewing.
“You wouldn’t believe the things they’re saying,” she said in greeting, shaking her head. “Bail is set at $20,000. It’s madness. Your uncle, the Mothman mastermind. Of all people,” she huffed. “They can’t prove a dang thing and they know it. The worst thing he’s ever done in his life is forget to pay the parking meter.”
“On the news there were a bunch of new Mothman sightings. Real ones,” Fox said. “And Uncle Bill was in jail when they happened. Doesn’t that prove that he’s innocent?”
“You’d think so. There’s just all this red tape to work through, and some nonsense about vandalism at the Field House.”
I bit my lip. So did Fox. So did Mason. Barb saw me on the couch, buried under the mound of blankets and pillows. “Josie, are you still not feeling well?” She felt my forehead. “You feel like a Popsicle.”
“I’m okay.”
“Let me make you some tea. Have you all had lunch? I brought burgers. Just came home to shower, then it’s back to the station. I’d rather not have to raise bail money if I can help it,” she rambled.
“What about Dad?” Mason said.
“I’ve been on the phone with him off and on this morning. He’s still doing fine, but we agree it’s better for him to stay at the hospital for one more day, with all this craziness going on.”
“Aw,” Mason said, slumping down in the pile of pillows.
She smoothed a lock of hair from Mason’s forehead. “He said to tell you all that he loves you, and he’ll be home real soon.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to sink into a pity party. I crawled out of my nest of blankets to eat the food she brought, though I couldn’t even taste it. Even the boys picked at their burgers and fries.
When Aunt Barb left again, I knew we had to get moving on a plan.
“Fox, how many ideas did you guys come up with for tomorrow?”
“Four or five.”
“I want you to keep going until you have thirty ideas on that list. Can you do that?”
“Thirty?” he said. “Why so many?”
“Humor me.”
“What will you be doing, Josie?” Mason asked.
“Research.”
* * *
Two hours later we met in the kitchen to compare notes.
“Is there a pet store in town that sells bats?” I said.
“Bats?” Fox said.
“Never mind. I’ll call about it in a little while.”
“Oookay.”
Fox had grabbed the Field House plans from the Cave and spread them out on the kitchen table. “The quilt show goes from ten to three tomorrow,” I said, “with setup starting at eight. The game is at seven p.m. They start letting players and concessions workers in at three thirty through the back entrance.”
“First things first,” Fox interrupted. “How do we break the curse, Josie? Tell me you have that worked out. How do we know Mothman will even show up?”
“I’m counting on it. John said Edgar always shows up to watch the disaster in person. It’s horrible, I know. But this time it will help us. I need him there if my plan is going to work.”
“How are you going to make him mad?” Mason said.
“I could use your help with that, actually. We need to dream up as many insults about Edgar as we can think of.”
Their faces brightened. They took turns rattling them off almost faster than I could write them down. Then I used my cell phone to record myself reading them out loud.
“So, do you guys have your list?”
“Yes, but first I thought of another problem,” Fox said. “What if we end up causing the thing we’re trying to prevent? Like, what if we’re trying to clear the building and we start a stampede or something?”
“Good thinking,” I said. “We’ll have to be extra careful about the plan we choose.”
He dropped a piece of notebook paper on the table with a flourish and a courtly bow. “Here you are, then. Thirty ideas for emptying the Field House, ranging from improbable to pretty much impossible.”
“The bees were my idea,” Mason said.
I started at the top, reading each proposal out loud:
1. Flood
2. Fire—real or imaginary
3. Gas leak—imaginary
4. Stink bombs
5. Smoke bombs
6. Prison break—imaginary
7. Escaped zoo animals—real or imaginary
8. Power outage
9. Plumbing outage
10. Swarm of bees
11. Nuclear reactor leak—imaginary
12. Food poisoning
13. Steal and/or pop all the basketballs
14. Padlock all the doors before anyone can get in
15. Blast really annoying music
16. Hypnotize the crowd
17. Bribe people to leave
I stopped reading and glared at Fox across the table. “How are we gonna bribe five thousand people to leave the arena?”
“Hey, you said come up with thirty ideas. You didn’t say they had to be good.”
“Fair enough.” I sighed and kept reading. But the ideas got worse from there. I tried to hide my disappointment, but Fox wasn’t fooled.
“It’s a pretty awful list, I know,” Fox said. “I warned you.”
“No, no, I think we can work with some of these.”
“I put a star next to the ones that actually seemed doable.”
I nodded my agreement, circling the one I liked best. “It’s a great list. Creative. Good job, guys. Let’s start with the power outage. I don’t know
how to do that.” I stared at Fox. “Do you?”
“Not yet,” Fox said. “But that’s why we have the Internet, right?”
Mason’s eyes gleamed. “We’ll wreck the power so good it’ll take them days to fix it.”
“Whoa, what do you mean, ‘we,’ short stuff?” I said. “You’re not coming, Mason.”
He jumped to his feet. “Why not?”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “Fox, did you tell him he could come tomorrow?”
“I, uh, might have mentioned it when he was helping with the list.”
“No way. I don’t want him anywhere near that building tomorrow. Sorry, Mason.”
“You’re not Momma!” he shouted, face red. “You can’t tell us what to do!”
He ran upstairs to his room. I wrapped my arms across my stomach, feeling like I’d been punched.
“Josie, he’s seven,” Fox said quietly. “He didn’t mean it. In half an hour, he’ll forget all about it.”
“I know.” I tried to shake off Mason’s outburst, knowing there were more important things to worry about. “Okay, so, you wreck the power. Then what?”
“Everyone sits in the dark for a while,” Fox explained. “The people in charge figure out there’s nothing they can do, so they cancel the game and calmly escort everyone from the building.”
“Sounds good in theory,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
We moved to the study to search for information about large-scale power outages. Fox did the typing while I watched over his shoulder. “It has to be something they can’t fix in a couple of minutes,” I said.
“Can’t we just cut some wires?” Fox said.
“If you’re sure you won’t electrocute yourself.”
“Right. I’ll keep looking, then.”
I wandered around the study, thinking about the protesters and tailgaters we’d seen on TV. “I’m worried about all the people outside the Field House,” I told Fox. “Couldn’t they get hurt, too?”
“I guess, but what are we supposed to do about it? We can’t be everywhere at once,” Fox said.
“You’re right. That’s why I think we need more manpower.”
“Well, with Mason out of the picture, that just leaves me and you. What are we supposed to do, recruit people? Who on earth will even listen to us?” Fox said. Before I could answer, he sat up and snapped his fingers. “Wait, I think I know.”
“Who?”
“We’ve got Dad’s computer right here along with his entire customer e-mail list. A bunch of them are big, strong farmer types. I’ll bet they’d help.”
A dozen reasons why it wouldn’t work hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back. Why not? “Okay.”
Together, we composed an e-mail promising fifty of Dad’s best customers an exclusive, up-close, in-depth preview of previously unseen Goodrich estate items, but only if they could be at our house within the next hour.
“Most of them will come if they can,” Fox said as he pressed Send. “Then all we have to do is convince them that the city is in danger and that we’re not a family of big, fat liars. Easy.”
We waited. The minutes dragged by, impossibly long. Finally, cars started pulling into the long gravel driveway. When Mason saw all the activity outside his window, he hurried downstairs to get in on the action, acting as if all was forgiven.
Brothers Carl and Joe, who lived a half mile down the road, got there first. We set up chairs on the auction floor and sat people down to wait, figuring it made more sense to explain everything once instead of over and over as they trickled in. We hoped it would also make them less likely to storm off in a huff when they heard what we had to say.
We gave everyone an hour; after thirty minutes, we already had thirty-seven people sitting there looking antsy. Mason served sodas and lemonade to keep them happy.
Carl shuffled over to where Fox and I were greeting people at the door. “They come to their senses and let your uncle out yet?”
“Not yet,” I said.
He looked around. “Where’s your aunt? She did authorize all this, right?”
“She’s at the police station trying to get Uncle Bill released,” Fox said.
“Then who the heck is running this thing?”
“I am.” Fox glanced at me and quickly corrected himself. “We are.”
“Your dad know about this?”
“Of course. It was his idea.”
Carl stared at Fox a long while. He clicked his tongue. “Uh-huh,” he said at last. But he didn’t go home. He found a chair front and center and sat himself down to wait. We had roughly the same conversation a dozen more times with many of the new arrivals.
At last it was 3:00 p.m. Fox stepped up to the podium microphone and cleared his throat.
“Uh, hello and thank you for coming.”
“What, no sideshow today? Where’s the moth?” someone called out, causing a wave of laughter to ripple across the crowd.
“I promise all of you we will honor our word to give you first preview of the new Goodrich items.”
“That’s why we’re here, kid,” another person said.
“But first, we need you to listen to us for five minutes.”
Grumbles started up immediately.
I stepped forward. “Just five minutes. Please. Most of you have been coming to Fletcher Auctions since before we were born. You know our family; you know we’re honest and fair. Maybe you believe that our uncle faked those Mothman sightings to help business. Hopefully you know he would never do such a thing. But right now the most important thing you need to know is that a lot of people are in danger, and we need your help to save them.”
“What kind of danger?”
“We’re, uh, not totally sure, but it’s going to happen tomorrow at the Field House,” I said.
“You mean those threats painted on the side of the building? It was vandalism, pure and simple.”
Someone else stood. “Unless you’re trying to tell us your family had something to do with that.”
“No. Listen,” I begged. “We have a reliable tip that something’s going to happen to the building, putting hundreds or even thousands of people in danger!”
A couple of people stood up to leave.
“Hear them out,” someone shouted.
“Why? They’re obviously behind this whole mess. They got their uncle thrown in jail. I want no part of it.” The man plus three others left without looking back.
“You have to believe us,” Fox insisted. “Why would we lie about something like this?”
“Come on now, Fox,” Carl said. “Everyone knows you got to have all eyes on you whenever possible.”
“There are no cameras here—just us,” Fox said. “All we want to do is save lives.”
Mr. Leonard from the drugstore spoke up. “Tell the police.”
“They already think this is all a big scam. You’re all we have left,” I said.
“So we’re supposed to put ourselves in danger, too, smack in the middle of some mysterious disaster?” Mr. Leonard said. “No, thank you.”
Five more people got up and left.
One of the few women there spoke up. “If what you say is really true, why should we risk ourselves? We have our own families to think of.”
“Okay,” I said. “Think about your families, then. What if your kids or grandbabies or wife or husband were in there, unsuspecting? Wouldn’t you want someone to help them if they could?”
“How do you know something’s going to happen? Did Mothman tell you?”
“John Goodrich did,” I said.
That got them quiet.
“His wife was supposed to stop the Clark landslide, or at least warn people to leave,” Fox said. “Now he’s trying to help us stop another awful disaster.”
Chairs slid back, scraping against the concrete floor. Half the room stood up to leave. Then Carl stood, his bulk and height and steely gray stare shaming them into sitting back down.
“We lived in Clark,
” he said. “I remember, Goodrich and his wife, they said things, did things—crazy things, telling people they were in danger. These were respectable people and one day they just went off the rails. Then the moth started showing up.”
We heard several gasps.
“We listened. Me and Joe and our wives and kids—we left town and we’re all alive because of it. I owe the Goodrich family my life. A lot of folks chose not to listen and died as a result. If people in Athens are in danger, I owe them my help. What do you need us to do?”
We looked around the room. Eight people remained—including Carl and Joe. My heart unclenched just a tiny bit knowing we had a few allies on our side.
“Here’s the plan.”
18
The customers left one by one, pledging their help. I asked Carl and Joe to stay behind for a minute.
“Do either of you know where I can get some bats?”
“Bats?” Carl echoed.
“You know, bats? They’re fuzzy and they fly around at night, and they make these ultrasonic sounds to help them catch bugs. Do you know where I can get some? I called animal control, but apparently they don’t just give bats to anyone who wants them.”
“You looking to keep a pet? You’re better off with a parakeet,” Carl said.
Joe clapped his brother on the back. “She doesn’t want them for pets, you thickheaded half-wit.”
Carl lifted his trucker hat to scratch his head. “Matter of fact, my neighbor works for animal control. Been there twenty years. Got the scars to prove it.”
“Really? Wow, that’s a stroke of good luck right there,” I said. “Dad always says you and Joe are our very best customers, and good people besides. Always willing to do a favor for someone in need.”
“I’d like to think so.”
“So this neighbor, he’s a close friend? He might be able to pull a few strings if you asked him? One quick phone call would sure be a big help to us, if it’s not too much trouble, of course.”
Joe chuckled. “Been taking lessons from your brother, have you? He’d be happy to make a call for you, Josie. Wouldn’t you, Carl?”
He huffed and grumbled. “I suppose you need me to bring them in the morning?”
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