“You were a complete surprise, of course,” Liz said. “I’m impressed your mother managed to keep you a secret.”
There were so few things I understood about Ma right then. I wondered if she had hidden me to keep me safe or if she was just ashamed.
“So your mother never registered you anywhere?” Liz asked, sipping her tea. “Not so much as a birth certificate?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I suppose not.”
“Interesting. You must have been so . . . lonely.”
It felt strange having this pointed out twice in one day. This time felt less comforting because Liz wouldn’t be doing anything to solve it, like Beth did. I felt a chill from the concrete walls. The way things were looking I might be lonely for the rest of my life.
“How are they going to stop him?” I said. “Stop Daddy from ending the world?”
Liz’s fingernails made rhythmic notes on her porcelain cup. “There were things I couldn’t tell you earlier. Things I was kept from telling you because they were listening in. Hence the reason for my bringing you in here.” She gestured at the black pyramids. “The men upstairs are trying to solve Father’s boredom the only way that men do.”
“How?”
Liz leaned in like she was letting me in on a secret. “Imagine every catastrophe that’s happened in this country. The plants. The aliens. The giant insects.”
I’d known people who’d been killed by every one of those things. I took another sip of the disgusting tea to hide my sadness.
“As I said,” Liz continued, “their hearts were in the right place initially. Any time a disaster struck—or a Shiver as you call them—the military swept in and took careful notes on how it happened. Maybe it was a mutation. Or a freak occurrence in nature. Or gamma rays. They recorded every detail to try to prevent these tragedies. But once Hal and I made them aware of Father, that’s when things took a turn. Any time the remote started to rise in the slightest, they released one of their own copy creations, just to pique his interest.”
I thought of all the times that monsters had returned inexplicably, even though they were said to have been wiped out. Like when the son of the doctor who accidentally spliced himself with a fly was tricked into getting spliced as well.
“But,” I said, “people die in those attacks.”
Liz nodded. “That’s men’s thinking for you. They refer to it as collateral damage. And they forgive themselves by saying it saves more lives in the long run.”
Ma never did think much of men’s thinking. At any given moment you can’t trust they have enough blood knocking around upstairs, she’d said. I didn’t know what she’d meant at the time, but I noticed she always did exactly what men asked of her for fear they’d lock her up again—forcing her to hug herself in a straitjacket through the long lonely nights.
Liz sighed. “And perhaps the men are right. So far their copy creations have convinced Father to lower his remote every time. Heaven forbid he changes the channel or turns us off completely.”
I nearly choked on my tea.“Changes the channel?”
Liz’s cup paused before her lips. “Throwing our entire world into another dimension.”
The thought made my vision blur. The first time I held a Lazy Bones I’d spent the rest of the night flipping between channel after channel—news, Ed Sullivan, news, American Bandstand, the Sunday night feature, news—until Ma pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Enough, Phoebe. You’re going to start talking in incomplete sentences.”
“Best we remain in this dimension, hmm?” Liz said, reading my expression. “Anyway, Father has become increasingly more difficult to entertain lately. With familiarity comes contempt. He’s almost completely lost interest in single monster attacks. So now . . .” She glanced nervously toward the door. “Well, now the men here want to try combinations. Two different monsters at the same time. Or three. They want to release the past terrors of the world and start a war so bloody and terrifying it will convince Father to set down the remote control and continue watching for the foreseeable future.”
I tried to imagine a Shiver that involved more than one type of monster—a blob and a flying saucer, a Gila monster and flesh-eating plants, Ook and a storm of scarabs—but my mind couldn’t seem to hold it all.
“Where’s it gonna happen?” I asked, thinking of Pennybrooke.
Liz finished her tea and set down her cup. “That’s classified information, I’m afraid.”
I glanced at the ceiling. “I thought you said there were no microphones in here.”
“Trust me, Phoebe. You’re better off not knowing some things. These men are kind enough, but you don’t want to give them any excuse to keep you locked up here for good.”
“But more and more people are going to have to keep dying all the time, just to keep Daddy entertained.”
It was odd making this argument. I’d never let myself care about the people Ma and I left behind. After losing people I loved, I’d grown a thick skin. But that was when I thought all the Shivers were natural. Now that I knew humans were causing some of them . . .
“I know,” Liz said. “It’s hideous. The men argue that death and violence are what created this world in the first place and that without them we don’t have Father’s interest. And without Father’s interest . . . well, our lives simply won’t continue.”
“If that’s men’s thinking,” I said, “then what do you think?”
Liz smiled and poured herself more tea. “I think Father—Daddy—can’t know what he wants if he’s never seen it before. But what that is . . .” She gave a small shrug.
“You mean like . . . romance?” I said.
Liz hiccupped, nearly spitting out her tea. “I think it’s safe to say he’d shut us all off at the first bashful bat of an eyelash.”
My cheeks grew hot. “I guess you’re right.”
Liz’s cup clinked on the tray. Her chair scooted back. “Brainstorm a minute. I’m going to go get you some sugar.”
A circle of light wavered on my full cup of tea. So much for looking cultured.
Liz loosened the wheel, stepped out, and the door fell shut behind her.
Outside, Daddy’s remote was rising higher by the hour. I wanted to come up with a solution. Not a stupid one, like romance. A real one Liz and the men of the lab could use, instead of releasing every horror in God’s—or whoever’s—creation on all the quiet towns of the world.
There were still so many Katies in the world I hadn’t met yet. So many boys with arms in slings. The thought of all of them being torn apart and smashed flat and bled dry as part of Daddy’s entertainment made my head heavy and my teacup blur. The light in the room dimmed. It had been a long day.
A minute later, the wheel turned, and Liz reentered with a bowl full of sugar cubes. She plopped two into my tea. “See if that helps.” I swished the cup around a little until the cubes disappeared in white whirls, then took a sip.
“Mm,” I said. But I wasn’t thinking about tea.
Liz’s hand reached out and took mine. “It’s not your responsibility, Phoebe,” she said. “Not alone, anyway.” When I didn’t respond, she pulled my hand across the table and set it on the swell of her stomach. “If this all goes well, you’ll be an auntie soon. Or half of one.”
Something tugged at my heart. I’d never had any family besides Ma.
Liz touched my cheek. “Take the night and see if anything comes to you, and we’ll meet back here for coffee in the morning. Okay?”
I nodded, and Liz’s eyes smiled in the band of light. Her mother must’ve been a real knockout. Enough to knock out Daddy’s genes.
She leaned in conspiratorially. “Perhaps we women can come up with something the men never would have thought of, huh?”
I nodded as a tear dripped into my tea.
Katie Bryer came into my life in the summer of 1954, after Ma and I narrowly escaped the meteor crash at Sand Rock. Katie was the first girl who took the time to teach me how to play h
opscotch and fire a slingshot.
Her mother stuffed her in poofy dresses and shoes that glowed like bowling balls, tying her hair in tight ponytails to try and wring the tomboy tendencies right out of her. Katie looked as bright and cheerful as a fruit salad when she left her house and like lint from the dryer when she returned. I’ll never know why she took a shine to me.
For the first time in my life, I had a whole two months to make a real friend. It seemed disasters were happening everywhere but in our town for once. Katie and I explored every nook and cranny of Alamogordo, New Mexico, singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” near the old White Sands test site, daring each other to dance the Cha-Cha on street corners, and even flipping through the first issue of Playboy in her brother’s room so we could sneak a peek at Marilyn Monroe, who had nothing on except the radio.
One day Katie suggested that if a boy wanted to kiss me, to make him eat a sucker first. “If he’s a looker, he can get away with apple. If he’s funny but not so easy on the eyes, make him eat grape.” As far as I was concerned, Katie was the best thing since Wonder Bread.
When I came home one day to find Ma boxing up her feather hats, my heart turned over.
“Pack up, Phoebe,” Ma said. “Daddy’s looking our way.”
I froze in the doorway.
Ma zipped up her suitcase. “Hop to!”
I turned and ran.
“Phoebe, come back!” she called after me, but I was already halfway down the street.
I ran all fifteen blocks to Katie’s house and pounded on the door. Vera, the Bryers’ help, answered, baby Jason swaddled in one arm.
“Why, it’s Phoebe! If I’d known you were comin’, I’d’ve baked a cake! Ha-ha. Come in, come in. Katie’ll be back from Girl Scouts in ten.”
Of course. It was Wednesday. I hadn’t joined the group because Ma was worried we’d have to leave before I could sew my first badge.
I stepped into the foyer, trying to catch my breath.
“Child, you’re blushing bright as the sun,” Vera said. “What’s going on?”
Words drained out of me. I’d hoped Katie would answer the door, so I could wrap my arms around her neck and hold on tight until she agreed to come with us or Ma said we could stay put for once.
“Come on,” Vera said, rubbing my back. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”
I followed her into the kitchen. At the motel, Ma and I only ever ate precooked canned food, but at the Bryers’ I was spoiled with oven-cooked Swanson dinners, Jell-O salad, Cheez Whiz, raspberry Kool-Aid, and Betty Crocker with Reddi-Wip for dessert.
Vera bounced Jason in her arm while spreading marshmallow fluff on the bread. I wanted nothing more than to sit and relax and gobble up everything she pushed my way, but there was no time.
“Vera?”
“Yes, dollface?”
“What if I told you that you and the Bryers had to get out of town now? This afternoon?”
“Why, Phoebe”—Vera set down her knife—“you’re pale as a sheet. Whatever’s the matter?”
I looked at the clouds through the window above the sink and tried to organize my thoughts. I couldn’t actually see Daddy at that point, but I knew he was there. The newspapers had proven it every time Ma made us flee another town. But any talk about him could land me and Ma in the rubber room.
“Just pack everything up,” I said, “and when Katie gets home, come to the motel. If you stick with me and Ma, we’ll keep you safe.”
Vera studied my face like it had algebra on it. Then she gave me an admonishing look, like I was a toddler playing games.
“This is a God-fearing town, Phoebe,” she said, cutting the crusts off the sandwiches. “Nothing bad will happen here. And if there is an emergency, we’ll be kept safe. That’s what the police officers are for.” She set the sandwich in front of me. “There. This’ll make you feel better.”
I took a bite. I didn’t know what else to do. The marshmallow fluff and Wonder Bread grew soggy on my tongue. I wanted to believe Vera. Sometimes the disaster was small, easily solved by the military. Or it only affected a person or two. Ma and I would skip town only to hear about the man who accidentally spliced himself with a fly. No one actually got hurt . . . except him and the fly, of course.
Other times, the disaster was too big to imagine. Ook or Godzilla or the Rhedosaurus would go on a city-smashing spree. Ma said it was never worth the gamble.
I hadn’t swallowed the first bite of my sandwich when the knock came at the front door. Vera went to answer it.
“Why, good afternoon, Miss Lane! Your daughter’s trying to convince me that we need to get out of town without so much as a fare-thee-well.”
Ma laughed, her voice a strained sort of casual. “The girls must be playing a little game or something. You know the drills they run kids through at school these days.”
Vera chuckled. “Any break from boys and doo-wop is a blessed relief.” She called down the hallway. “Phoebe? Your momma’s here.”
When I stepped into the foyer, Ma playfully shook her finger at me. “No more late-night TV for you, young lady.” She scraped a bit of peanut butter from the corner of my lips, her smile twitching just slightly.
As we stepped off the porch, Ma called back, “Sorry for the interruption, Vera.”
“It’s nothing at all!” Vera said, and waved.
When we reached the end of the driveway, I spotted Katie coming down the sidewalk. I broke free from Ma, sprinting fast as my buckle shoes would allow. By the time I’d thrown my arms around Katie’s neck, Ma was already trying to pry them off.
“Come on, Phoebe. None of this now.”
I wept into Katie’s hair, and Katie was such a good friend, she started crying too.
“What’s happening?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing’s happening,” Ma said, tugging my arms. “Phoebe and I are just heading on a little vacation, and she doesn’t want to go.”
My grip was loosening against my will. If Ma had let me, I swore I could have picked Katie up and carried her out of town with us.
But that’s not what happened.
Just before Ma pulled me away, I whispered I love you into Katie’s hair so soft I don’t know if she heard. As Ma dragged me down the sidewalk, I couldn’t stand looking back at my best friend’s face.
We reached the gas station pay phone and Ma fished a nickel from her purse. “You’re lucky I love you, otherwise I’d chain you to the radiator in every town we went to. Hello? Yes, we need a taxi from the Smithfield gas station to the metro just as soon as you can send it.”
We escaped in the nick of time. People in the station were in a panic. Loud pops echoed down the city streets.
On the bus, I buried my face in my hands.
Ma’s fingernails ran through my hair. “Shh, Phoebe. There there. Daddy’s eyes saved us. We need to be grateful. He saved us.”
I suddenly regretted not looking at Katie one last time and tearfully pressed my nose against the bus window.
Ma tugged at the back of my dress. “Look away, Phoebe. No use seeing that. And close your legs. Otherwise, people will know you got apples on your underpants.”
Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe it was the spotted window and the distance. Or maybe the next day’s headline played tricks on my memory. But I could have sworn I saw a cone-shaped hill rising above Alamogordo. Instead of sand grains it was made of bricks and car tires.
As the bus pulled out of the city, I remember seeing a silhouette—an ant the size of a tank—scramble to the top of the giant hill and wave its antennae as something—no, someone—wriggled in its jaws in the dying cloud light.
I woke up back at the motel.
At first I thought I’d dreamed it all. The trip into the desert with the Girl Scouts. The monsters in the Buried Lab. My half sister and the Doomsday Dial. But then I heard a light snoring. Pan-Cake was lying on the pillow next to me, her white fur covered in sand.
On the nightst
and beside her was a ham radio with a glowing light. The knob to tune the frequency had been broken off, the metal underneath fused in place. The speaker made a crackling sound, almost like a voice coming through. I woozily pushed up to my elbows, picked up the radio’s mouthpiece, and clicked the button on its side.
“Hello?” I said, then waited.
At the base of the nightstand was a pair of men’s army boots. I guess Liz found some in my size. The boots blurred in and out of focus as I cradled my head. I didn’t remember coming home from the lab. Was my chamomile drugged? Or the sugar?
“Hello?” I said again into the mouthpiece.
There was no response.
Pan-Cake let out a little snort, her paws twitching. We’d both done a whole lot of running the day before. Maybe I’d just passed out cold, and they brought me home when Mr. Peak came to his senses and realized a lab was no place for a teen girl. Or a little dog, I guessed.
There was a knocking at the door. I slumped to the blinds and peeked out, expecting to find Officer Shelley, but instead saw a stout bald man in a plaid jacket. The carnival owner.
“Miss Lane? Miss Lane! It’s Mr. French, Miss Lane. You’ve missed three rehearsals now! And the show is tomorrow night.” He pounded on the door. “Miss Lane!”
He was practically beating the door down when I opened it.
Mr. French huffed, dark as an eggplant. “Is your mother here?”
“Um, no, she’s not,” I said, supporting myself on the doorframe. My legs were drooping.
“Well, we have a situation on our hands. Everything is set up at the fairground, except we are missing our main attraction. I could try to fit Emperor Ook’s bones into that dress, but I do not think our audience would be amused.”
While he rambled on about the carnival, my eyes drifted past him. The sky was overcast, but in the glow of dawn, I could see Daddy’s remote peeking over the mountains—the giant sundial about to announce the end of the sun. Was that what the ham radio was for? So I could report back to the lab if Daddy looked bored? What about the periscope? Why hadn’t the lab left me a pair of binoculars, at least?
Attack of the 50 Foot Wallflower Page 7