Crouched with her blade held out in front of her, Bree made a quick move to see around the bush.
No one was there. No big cats. No aliens. No people. No javelinas. But, something shiny glinted from deep underneath the bush.
Bree leaned in to investigate what she’d figured was a can left behind. No, wait, it looked more like a box, about the shape and size of a brick, but with a shiny silver finish. What the hell? Could this be the clue she’d been searching for?
Not wanting to touch it, Bree looked around for a stick. A few feet away, she found one about two feet in length and used it to poke the object. She quickly pulled back and let out a nervous laugh, relieved that nothing had happened.
Bree poked the mysterious box again and realized that it had some weight to it. Still not sure what to do with it, she stood up. She’d never seen anything like it. It had to be related to the bizarre behavior. But how?
“Shit!” Lots of questions and no answers. Staring at the damn thing probably wouldn’t turn up any answers. She needed to figure out what it was and who in the hell had put it there.
She could take it with her. Or take pictures of it. Leaving it could risk more people getting hurt and k-snagged. Taking it meant that she and her family could be at risk. For all she knew, the thing could blow up if she moved it.
A low humming startled Bree out of her internal debate. Instinct took over and she dove toward a small ditch nearby.
The humming got louder and pulsed a few times. Bree covered her head, crouching low in the ditch and waiting for some type of explosion.
Three pulses, and then silence.
Bree slowly removed her hands, realizing that she was still alive and there had been no explosion. She stayed put, not sure if, or when, she would be safe to approach the bizarre box again.
Her mind raced as she assessed for damage, only now feeling some pain in her wounded arm as the spike of adrenaline receded. She stretched out her arms and looked them over. Nothing different physically; however, she did notice a slight tingling in her head.
Nah. She must be imagining that.
Or not.
Shit! Had this silver box just zapped her brain like the others?
Maybe the aluminum foil hat wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.
No more noises came from the creepy box. She couldn’t stay in the ditch forever, so she stood up and shook her hands - like she could shake off whatever that thing pulsed out - and climbed out of the ditch.
At least she’d made her mind up.
Determined to get the box out of there, Bree walked back to her Jeep to get some tools. Even though it didn’t look like anything she’d ever seen, she’d treat it like a bomb. She and Scarecrow had run across a few in their work so she had a little experience.
Bree returned to the bush with her supplies and slid on her HexArmor Chrome Series gloves. The backs of the gloves had a special impact resistant design and the palms were made from advanced Superfabric material, giving her some protection, although not technically bomb-proof. She also put on her leather jacket and safety goggles. Again, not a shit-ton of protection, but better than nothing. She’d make do with what she had so she could get the damn thing out of there before it zapped anyone else.
Scooting her empty tool box as close to the strange device as she could get it, Bree rolled her shoulders and let out a big breath.
Here goes nothing.
Resolve steeled, Bree knelt and reached into the bush. As best as she could tell through the gloves, the box didn’t have any wires or switches, just smooth sides all the way around.
She sat up and wiped sweat from her brow with the bottom of her shirt. Bree took another deep breath before gently lifting the box on one side. She looked underneath. Nothing there either.
Weird.
The smooth metal box had no openings, wires, timers, etc. And it was heavier than its small size would indicate; the size of one brick, heavy as several.
It’s now or never.
She put both hands on the box and lifted it straight up. Careful not to tilt or jiggle it, she moved it toward the tool box. A few inches from the box, her cell phone rang.
“Damn it!” Why does that always happen? The damn thing always rang at the most inopportune times. The special ringtone identified the caller as Jason. He’d just have to wait.
Despite the annoying interruption, Bree didn’t flinch. She continued her determined, steady progress until she laid the spooky thing on the bottom of her tool box. She closed the lid and locked it in one smooth motion.
“Phew!” She sat back on her heels and let out the breath she’d been holding. Relief flooded her, easing the muscles in her neck and shoulders. At least she still had all of her limbs. Now she needed to get the mysterious silver humming thing to a safer location and find someone to tell her what the fuck it was.
She moved with purpose, wanting to get the hell out of the area before anyone noticed their shiny little box had gone missing.
Once back in her Jeep, Bree debated whether to ditch the box in the desert near Max’s place or pick Jason up first. A sudden, almost forceful, intuitive sense flooded her awareness. Different than her normal hunches. Much stronger. Not sure how or why, but she knew the steel of the tool box offered enough protection to keep her and Jason safe. Trying to ignore the tingling in her head - it must be from the weirdly strong flash of intuition, or dehydration - she took off for the coffee shop to get her brother.
10
“Whaddya find?” Jason asked, opening the Jeep’s door and climbing inside.
Bree grabbed the coffee he offered and took a sip before backing out of the parking space. “Slow down, bro. Tell me what you found out first.”
“Oh, okay. Um. One of the happy people I told you about came in while I was there. She’s a photographer and lives in the Village. She gave Summer thirty bucks to pay for people behind her. Everybody was in a good mood by the time she left. I didn’t really know what to ask her, but I did ask if she’d had a big sale or something recently. She said no, she was just happy and wanted to share with others. I also found out that she walks around in her neighborhood.” Jason took a breath.
“What about the other one? You’d said there were two of them.”
“Yeah, the guy came in before I got there, but Summer said he also lives in the Village and works at the Hyatt. She said he talks about walking and hiking a lot. They’re both still working - unlike Summer’s neighbor who is just sitting on his couch. Do you think it’s all related?”
“I don’t know, but it’s certainly a possibility.”
Could there be more of the shiny silver boxes around? Were they somehow causing the strange behavior in people? Was she going to start raging or blissing out? Bree hadn’t noticed any change in her mood, but the tingling sensation in her head lingered and perhaps had grown stronger since that box had hummed and pulsed.
She had to figure out the next step. Go check out the happy folks’ neighborhood? Get better protective gear first? Or dump her tool box, with the weird device inside it, somewhere safe?
“Do you know where the happy people live?” Bree asked.
Jason shrugged. “Somewhere off Jacks Canyon Road.”
“Damn it, Jase! I gave you one simple fucking job and you didn’t even do that right.”
Jason flinched and recoiled against the passenger door, his eyes like saucers.
Well, shit! Bree didn’t dare look at him. Honestly, she hadn’t meant to be so harsh. To be fair, the kid didn’t know what they were looking for and it was his first op.
Crap, am I gonna start raging? No! No, I can’t… I won’t. I’m just on edge.
After a big breath, Bree shook her head slightly, but it made her feel a bit dizzy. “Hey, listen. Forget what I just said. You did good, Jase. Thanks for getting that information.” She risked a quick glance over and saw Jason adjust in his seat, no longer trying to meld with the door in an attempt to flee from his mean sister.
Jason sat
up straighter. His face lit up with a giant smile. “Thanks! Bree, I’m really sorry I didn’t get their addresses or anything. I could call Summer. She might know.”
“Great. Why don’t you make that call? I’ve got to run in here to get a few things.” She pulled into Ace hardware store. After her little outburst, she decided to play it safe and find a way to protect their brains from any strange humming boxes they might find.
“What’re you getting? Can I come in?” Jason asked.
Bree gripped the steering wheel tighter. Kid gloves. Be nice. “Make your call and then you can come in if I’m not out by then.”
She rubbed her temples as she headed into the hardware store, wishing for the tingling to ease up.
Jason relayed the details of his conversation with Summer as Bree drove. Both the happy people lived within a couple of blocks from each other and from Summer. The gorgeous barista seemed to know everyone. Not in the annoying busy-body way; she had a magnetic personality that people were drawn to. Bree suspected it would be hard to find a person who didn’t like Summer.
After hearing the details of the small box Bree found near Ms. Worton’s house - minus the part about being zapped by the damn thing, of course - Jason started in with questions. “It’s really in that tool box? Can I see it? What do you think it is? What did you get at the hardware store? Do you think we’ll find another one?”
Bree pulled off the road and parked in a partially hidden area near the small trail behind the houses in the neighborhood where the happy people lived.
“Yes, it’s in my tool box. No, you will not open that box. I don’t have a fucking clue what it is or how it works. I’m pretty sure we’re safe as long as it’s in the steel box.” Bree gave her brother a hard look to emphasize the next sentence. “I’m serious, Jase. Do. Not. Touch the box.”
“Okay. Jeesh. I’m not two. I heard you the first time. Why is it safe in your tool box?”
“It’s acting like a Faraday cage. Which got me thinking that maybe we could use that idea to make something to protect our brains.”
Jason knitted his eyebrows. “What the hell’s a Faraday cage?”
“They’re used to protect electronic equipment from EMPs - electromagnetic pulses. They’re made from conductive material - like copper, silver, aluminum, or steel - which distributes any electrostatic charge or EMP around the exterior of the cage, keeping the contents inside safe. Max has a couple of them at the bunker to keep his electronics safe in case of a massive EMP.”
“Oh, yeah. I’ve seen those. I just didn’t know what they were called, I guess.” Jason nodded.
“Well, my tool box is steel and I’m hoping it will act in a reverse of a Faraday cage - trapping whatever the freaky silver thing is emitting inside and away from our brains.” Bree got out of the Jeep and headed to the back to get the supplies she purchased from the hardware store.
“That’s so cool. How did you even think of that?” Jason stood next to Bree and pointed at the bags. “And what are we doing with all that stuff?”
Bree gave a small nod to acknowledge the compliment. “We are going to build Faraday hats.” She slid the corner of her mouth into a smirk and began sorting the materials.
“We’re doing what?” Jason asked. “I’m not wearing a tool box on my head.”
Bree laughed and punched Jason in the arm. “You are a tool.”
“Am not.” He punched back. “And, you’re freaking crazy if you think I’m putting one of those on my head.”
“Settle down. We’re not wearing tool boxes, you fool. But, I decided that the crazy alien-conspiracy nuts might’ve had the right idea. Obviously, their little tinfoil hats didn’t protect them from the Kusharians and their nano-trackers, but we’re making something a little better than tinfoil hats.”
Bree demonstrated while constructing her hat. “Take the screen material and cut out two big circles. Like this. It’s made from nickel with copper plating. Might not be the absolute best, but it’s not bad on short notice.” Bree folded the screen material in two and then cut a circle about sixteen inches in diameter and handed the sheers to Jason.
“Now, tape the two pieces together with this copper tape, and we’ll use the same tape to secure the screen inside these hard hats.” Jason followed Bree’s lead and together they each made their nickel screen, copper-tape-lined hats. Bree glanced at Jason’s progress. “Make sure to cover the entire screen with the copper tape. It’s one more layer of conductive material.” In the final step they added a couple of layers of insulating tape. “Good job. Help me get the rest of this stuff.”
Unfortunately, Bree knew these hats weren’t actually a Faraday cage because their brains weren’t completely encased in the conductive material. Any radiation, EMP, or whatever the hell the box emitted could go right up the base of their brains. However, she still had a gut feeling that these hats would be better than nothing. She had a habit of trusting her gut.
Together they gathered the supplies, most of it going in Bree’s rucksack. Jason carried the tool box. He watched as a couple walked by and did a double take at Bree in her hard hat.
Bree stopped walking. “Put your hat on.”
Jason grimaced and shook his head. “Uh, I’ll wait until we get there.”
“You need to put it on now. We don’t know where the thing is. We don’t even know if there is one here, but if we see one, then it’s too late for the hat. Put it on, damn it.” Bree shot Jason a look. “Hey, at least I didn’t make you wear a tinfoil hat. I figured with the hard hats and tool box, people will think we’re construction workers or with a utilities company.”
“Not likely,” Jason mumbled.
“Would you rather be a little embarrassed or have your brain fried?” Bree countered, but kept her tone light.
“I plead the fifth. You wouldn’t like my answer.” Jason laughed then put his hat on and they continued down the trail.
At least this time Bree had an idea about what they were looking for - another silver box - but she still didn’t know where to look. The tingling in her brain reminded her of the potential danger. She hoped the stupid hats would protect them.
The two kept a steady pace as they scanned the areas to the right and left of the path for any indication of off-path activity or spoor. Like the path from earlier, this was a footpath worn by people in the area trekking through with their dogs, versus a well-maintained official trail.
A couple of times, they saw some prints leading off the path, but found they were simply areas where a dog veered off to investigate something or relieve its bladder.
After twenty-five minutes in one direction, they decided to turn back and go in the opposite direction from Mr. Happy Pant’s house.
When they reached the Jeep, they stopped to drink water and cool off. Turns out that copper-lined hard hats were hotter than hell. Bree pulled a couple of bandanas from the back of her Jeep and poured water over them. They each put one of the cloths under their hats with an end hanging down covering their necks.
Jason laughed when he saw Bree with the new addition to their hats. “You look mahvelous,” he said, giving his best impression of Billy Crystal.
“Why, thank you, Jason. I think it will be the new fashion trend.” Bree flipped the tail of the cloth like it was long hair and spun around. “It does help though, doesn’t it?”
“It might, but I’m not wearing that. What if we run into someone I know?”
“Suit yourself. You certainly don’t want to ruin your reputation.” Bree laughed and headed down the path.
About ten minutes in the new direction, Jason stopped and pointed to the ground. “Look, prints heading back there.”
Bree crouched down to look. “I don’t see any dog prints. Looks like human tracks only. Good catch.”
They followed the spoor. The bushes in this area were less prickly, but denser than the other spot where Bree had found the first box. She appreciated the small blessing.
“Ouch!” Jason yelled.
Bree stopped mid-step, her entire body rigid, except her head which she turned to look back at Jason. When the reason for his cry of pain became clear, the tension melted and she laughed. “So much for small blessings.” She mumbled to herself as she turned and walked back to Jason.
Her brother stood still with his face scrunched in pain. He had a spiked ball from a cholla, also known as a Teddy Bear cactus, stuck to his bare calf. This particular cactus might look fuzzy like a teddy bear, but the fuzz was actually hundreds of barbed spikes. These cacti typically grow to a couple of feet tall with branches sprouting from the trunk. Lower stems, known as cholla balls, fall off and litter the ground waiting to “jump” on and stick to any unsuspecting people or animals that pass by.
“Damn it! It’s not funny.” Jason grumbled.
“Hang on.” Bree chuckled, swung her backpack around to the ground and pulled out her gloves and multi-tool.
Cholla balls were tricky to remove because of their spiny defense system. Without proper technique, the balls tended to move down the person’s leg, new spines grabbing hold of flesh (or fur or clothes) as others were removed.
With the HexArmor gloves to protect herself from the nasty barbs, Bree used the pliers from the multi-tool to grab the ball and keep it from walking down Jason’s leg and cut it away from his skin. She dropped the ball deep into a nearby bush to keep it off the path and away from them.
“God, I hate chollas,” Jason grumbled.
“Me too, Jase. Hang on, I’ve gotta get the needles out. Sorry, I’ll be as gentle as I can.” Bree used her pliers to remove the remaining spines. Because of their hooked ends, they needed to be pulled out at the same angle they went in. Tedious, but necessary to minimize pain and damage to the skin.
Scarecrow once fell into a field of cholla. Nearly thirty of the suckers had attached to him. One of them even penetrated the sole of his shoe. He’d had to go to the ER to get them removed.
Mind Sync Page 7