I needed to move.
My brain sent the appropriate signals but alas, I could muster nothing more than the twitch of a foot, the flick of my fingers.
How I whimpered and bawled like a baby as the sun beat down on me.
I worked for this, I brought about the light's return, and now I reaped an undeserved reward.
But the slow death was not my greatest concern. The squire's compatriots would come for us ere long. So I sucked in air, screamed from the depths of my lungs, and raged against my muscles to sit.
Then passed out.
- A bona fide athlete
###
Kael blasting Mr. Ward into a clump of twisted limbs and nightly pain that would visit him for the rest of his life has been thoroughly described; and yet, thoroughly does not equate with completely.
The shockwave from that explosion parted the low-lying mists like a strong but short-lived zephyr, but the sound carried further. It tore through the countryside and knifed through the fog. The acoustic waves bounced off the occasional tent-pole tree and echoed through the raised farm embankments, but in the mostly flat countryside, they stampeded unencumbered. With greedy, gossiping words, it informed three living beings that something was amiss: The first was a bird; it flew away. The second, it just so happens, was also a bird; it didn't fly away strangely enough. The last to receive the news was human though, a tenant farmer on the nearest grid. While he could not decide for or against flying away, he did pull out his phone and hold down the button for an emergency call.
"Yeah. Hello? You're going to want to send one of everything up to Ward's place." A pause. "Listen, we all know what he was up to."
And so it was that a caravan of ambulances, police, and firetrucks cut through the town square and blared their sirens heading north.
Joshua bolted upright in his hotel bed, just catching the yellow and blue flashing lights shooting through the slats in the blinds. He looked left in the direction of the red-shifting noise and squinted. He looked right, pondering. Finally, he looked dead ahead.
“Kael.”
After putting on shoes and a jacket, Joshua sat on the bed and buried his head in his hands. “Another day of this.” The will to leave the room evaporating his body, he fell back and began a somewhat involuntary game of sleep-roulette. The rules were simple: you lay down and take a nap without an alarm. Might be ten minutes. Could be two hours. It had once been eight.
“Aggh, I have to quit my job.” Joshua sat back up and remained in that position for fifteen minutes, blankly looking at the wall.
Finally, he rolled out of bed. Shuffling over to the mini-fridge under the television, Joshua fumbled around inside until he found his prize. With a stiff drink of piney, caffeine-rich paline canned and ready to go, Joshua began the grind.
"What's the news on those sirens—,” Joshua began.
Joshua found his way to one of the three usually attendants at the front desk at the inn. He could recite all three of their names without difficulty, but Joshua wasn't quite able to match names with faces. He squinted and read her shiny metal nametag: Doree.
"Sir, I'm with someone else right now." The woman gestured to the man across from her. The corner of her mouth twinged in annoyance.
Josua pressed, “Just worried about my brother after hearing the sirens. If you could tell me--”
“Why?” the waiting man asked. He was the type of, mayo skinned, brown-haired, medium build with an unassuming profile that would plague a manhunt in this part of the world. Quantifiably, he was the human equivalent of porridge, but Joshua felt something deeper there, a sharpness to his posture. An inherent predation in the way he stood facing the desk and the door all at the same time.
“What does your face have to do with your butt?” Joshua answered. “It’s all connected.”
"You're being a real prick right now, kid."
Joshua beamed as that hidden edge sheared through the exterior. He knew what this man was, probably. Joshua checked to make sure the man‘s heels were flat on the floor as he loomed over—could have sworn they were the same height.
"Word to the wise old dude, never talk about a kid‘s–" Joshua stopped midway through, knowing his joke wouldn’t land. "You want me to stand behind you and wait patiently? Fine. Not like there's an emergency outside," Joshua ended in a mumble and took two exaggerated steps back.
The conversation between man and clerk resumed: "Listen, here's my card," the man said. "Just call if you hear anything. And you," he said, turning on the spot, his gloved hand pointing at Joshua's chest and threatening to poke at his ribs. "I'm looking for a young child, girl, kidnap victim. Taken by her father."
Two missing people in a small town like this? A coincidence that was not. Kael would be upset if Joshua didn’t look into this, he could wait.
“I’m not supposed to share secrets with strangers,” Joshua shrugged.
Annoyed, the stranger reached into his duster's breast pocket and pulled out a slick leather wallet. He flapped it open, revealing a picture and a badge. "County detective."
In some parts of the world, the term county denoted the smallest territory of a country, but Sela operated by its own historical peculiarities. The County here was a job title like a sheriff, but for the state. The profession arose from some business five hundred years ago with a count-- the last count in this part of the world. He had been tasked with keeping the peace and by all estimations did such a bang-up job that the people immortalized him to this day with the title- County.
Joshua suspected that if that count had actually done a good job, they'd be using his name instead of his title. Or not. Maybe the count had a bad name. Wouldn't do any good for the state to send a "Bob" to your city. The name "County" bore some aesthetic weight which Joshua could appreciate even if police officers were the bane of his existence. Whenever he and Kael went to a new country, the first thing they did was memorize information on police activity. They never set out to break laws, but things happened. Best to know who to avoid.
With the badge still inches from his squinted eyes, Joshua proffered his hand. The County's lip curled up to a sneer before handing it over.
Joshua took the heavy wallet and looked at the picture, the fancy holograph type set, the I.D. Number. He bounced the badge up and down testing the weight. Finally, after pushing down on the metallic emblem with his thumbs, he brought it up to his mouth and bit down.
The County's speed surprised Joshua. He had only just confirmed it was in fact made of honest to Goddess brass when the man pulled it out of his grip, about taking Joshua's teeth along for the ride.
"What is wrong with you?" the County bellowed.
Joshua noticed the subtle raise of his hand, the seething control in the tense neck muscle. This Count’s first instinct was actually to throw a punch. Not that Joshua would have minded. That was the kind of thing he'd find hilarious as long as he wasn't arrested.
"Let me know if you see anyone suspicious checking in," the County said to the clerk, pausing to wipe the shiny brass badge against the outside of his thigh. "And I better not see you again," he said lurching past Joshua. The doors slammed open and shut, and that was that.
Joshua mosied on up to the desk and rapped his fingers. "Get a load of that guy, huh?"
"You're leaving tomorrow?" The woman asked.
"Yes. . . ."
"I don't know anything about the emergency sirens," the woman huffed. "Do you need anything else?"
"It's just weird isn't it?"
"Huh?" Doree couldn't be bothered to look up from her work, starting to make notations on a clip board.
"Weird. A second missing person. Strange coincidence." Joshua rhythmically thumped his fingers on the counter, each beat sprouting a new vein in the woman's forehead.
"You fed me the exact same line about coincidences when I told you about the disturbance at the fields," the receptionist said. "I know Pieter's mom; he's not out of the hospital yet."
Joshua leaned over the counter trying to get a better look at the clock far in the back. "I was with Pieter all night so don't go complaining to me. It's not that bad anyway. Sprain, few cuts and bruises, hairline femur fracture. He'll be on crutches before the end of tonight. Shouldn't have to miss a minute of the Harvest Festival."
"And if he does miss it, we Northerners have two harvest festivals a year. Because that's what's important about that boy's broken leg, right? Clearly that's why I'm bringing it up."
Joshua pulled back and lost the glib smile. He wasn't the savant at evaluating emotions like he was with more factual matters, but once they started getting as sarcastic as himself, that was normally the queue to pull back. "Touché, touché." Joshua quit strumming and straightened his posture. "Can you just pull up a website and run his badge number on that computer there? Then I'll leave you in peace."
Doree smiled. "Even if I wanted to, it's not on the card." Doree held up the thin piece of laminated paper with the Selan colors. It had a name, a phone number, and a verifying phone number. No badge number. "Anything else I can do for you today?" She took a pause. "Sir."
"0366Yb¬0076," Joshua said. "It's the correct number of digits for a Selan County but I'd like to double-check it anyway. Verification numbers are so easy to cheat. Mash a bunch of letters and numbers together till it's just sounds.”
Joshua added, “I’m the only customer here. It’s either browse the internet for this or something else.”
Doree eyed Joshua skeptically but sat down all the same, clicking through her computer. "How could you possibly memorize that? You had it for two seconds max." An eyebrow raised. "Before you acted a fool."
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
"Yes. Two whole seconds." As the computer buffered, Joshua kept talking to fill the dead space. "It’s the kind of thing I learned instead of going to school.”
"How do you learn memory?" She hadn't gone back to the clipboard during the wait.
"By memorizing something else real well—let's you create extra connections. Brains are all connections." Joshua caught his fingers about to drum again and scolded them. "Psychology was the seventh thing I learned."
"I’ve heard of it. Memory palace.”
“Nah, try to avoid palaces. Wee little ten-year-old-me sat down and memorized the entire Mainal National Atlas. If I need to memorize anything new, I just put a picture of it on that map– in my head. The badge's first two digits are 03, so I think Ribediah.
"I don't know where that is."
"If you're using the religious atlas like I was, third island nation as far west as possible. Right in the East Gulf. If you're using the standardized Piet‘s Atlas Compendia, smack dab in the middle."
Doree gave a nod that could have been anywhere between approval and 'shut up'. "I found the County's website by the way. Give me those numbers again?"
"Wanna give it a try first?"
One look from Doree nixed that idea. The keyboard ticked thirteen times more and then an extra thump for the enter button.
"He's legit. Picture and everything." Doree stood up and smiled. "Maybe we should run the information you and your brother registered under now?"
Joshua chuckled. "I can save you some time– totally fake. Not really a crime in your country, though." He winked. "We checked."
Hitting the streets, the investigation into the sirens went as such: Joshua approached random people on the street and then asked, "You hear those sirens? Weird, right?"
If Kael had blown something or someone up, they certainly weren’t pointing fingers. That meant that Kael and he wouldn't be run out of town, for the time being.
He kinda wished the pitch forks had come out. Because now, there were no excuses left: he had to quit his job.
###
Excuses were found and Joshua didn’t manage to arrive at the Farmer’s residence until three in the afternoon. Joshua rapped his knuckles against the farmhouse door and took a deep breath, a pit in his stomach. He never told the Farmer he'd be gone so soon and now he had to outright quit. Joshua didn't like disappointing people. Something as simple as quitting temporary field hand work made him feel like an irredeemable monster.
Shuffling his muddy boots on the porch, Joshua shivered and looked around. The planting circles in the steamy soil hadn't been touched since he left work yesterday. The rusted red crane dibber with its circular pancake-shaped claw still sat out of commission by the barn.
The Farmer hired Joshua because his dibber broke down, but did that mean the old guy couldn't do anything on his own? If Joshua left tomorrow, would the old man be in the proverbial canyon? Impossible to climb out of there. Of course, around these parts, it was a sure thing the Selans would find a way to add 'steam' to the saying.
Wait, did they invent 'out of steam'? Joshua audibly gasped at the possibilities.
At the precise point when Joshua was completely distracted, the door swung open.
"You're late," the Farmer said with a low and gritty throat, the constant humidity afflicting him with a few too many violent coughs in his life. "Nothing got done. Because you were late."
"Well, I can see that. I got. . . busy."
"I heard."
"You heard? I've never seen you leave the house."
"Small town. You hear things."
Joshua sighed. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. I'm here to quit, not work. Me and my brother are leaving town tomorrow and I won't be able to help you anymore."
"I know. Didn't expect you to stay around as long as you did. Was just hoping that I'd get some warning before you shirked off."
"It wasn't intentional. I was busy all night and had to sleep when I got back to the hotel." Joshua's voice sped up and pitched higher. He didn't appreciate moral confrontation.
"I heard–"
"Yes, yes. You heard, and you're giving me a hard time anyway. Maybe quit the runaround and hire someone to come out and fix that crane. You're not going to make me feel worse about going home."
The Farmer's stiff face skewed with some emotion for a split second before returning placid. "I did have it fixed, three days ago. You were here."
Joshua bit his lip thinking back. As observant as he might be, he had to pay attention to pick things up. On a second pass, he was forced to concede that might mean he wasn't actually observant. "Wait, hey," Joshua slowly said, putting two and two together. "If the machine is working, why are you giving me a hard time? You could have done everything today without me. And the day before that."
"Working the crane is still work, and you were doing a good job for cheap. Plus, I wasn't going to have you working the field today. We're ahead of schedule and it's a holiday. I figured we'd take it easy and get the wagon ready. Paint it. Load up the haystacks. Prep old Mare-y to give rides around town tonight."
"I can still do that. Paint in the barn?" Joshua started marching towards the termite-ridden building without a go-ahead but then stopped, as another voice piqued from behind.
"I already did it!" A mousy voice sounded from within the house.
Joshua squinted, barely making out the outline of the Farmer's little girl inside. Emilie had spent plenty of time watching Joshua work from a distance these past few weeks, always too timid to come close. She slowly scooched forward and grabbed one of the Farmer's legs, leaning forward outside without actually stepping foot. Large muddy swaths of paint so brown it looked like varnish coated her face. The goop tarnished the delicate white dress beyond repair.
"Why did you let her paint with that on?" Joshua asked.
The Farmer scowled. "Once she showed me she could paint on her own, I left her alone. And then she got changed. Why was that again, dear?"
The little girl beamed with a mouth so wide open that it showed all her teeth. "I was so excited for the festival that I didn't want to forget to go. I knew if I was dressed for it, I wouldn't forget."
"Do you know how expensive it is to clothe children?"
Joshua looked down at his own clothes in confusion before glancing back with a devilish light in his eyes. "Oh right. I forget most people have parents who love them and take care of them."
"Yes, well," the Farmer's countenance finally broke as his eyes found the ground suddenly interesting. "Help me load up the haystacks and I'll pay you for an hour's work-- plus give you a ride into town."
"But why is she wearing the dress still?" Joshua said.
"Because--" Emilie's nose twitched as she contemplated. "I have to live in the messes I make." Her tone was rote and rehearsed, finishing with a look up to the Farmer.
The Farmer sighed. "Live with your own mess. With."
Joshua fussed with the curls on his head and looked around. "So she's wearing that to the party, or. . . ."
"Go change dear." The Farmer leaned in. "It's real expensive to clothe children."
###
The Farmer had undersold Emilie’s work. Paint splashes may have marred the dirt and hay and walls, but they also coated the wagon in the same way an explosion would cook a marshmallow. You couldn’t say that the wagon wasn’t painted.
Joshua cleaned up, put the half-used paint cans on the shelf, and read their ingredient list since it was now at eye level. He didn't understand much more than a word or two; Kael probably would. His brother knew all about molecules and crap like that, although even he might be stumped when every other chemical started with “poly”.
Next came the red, iron-leeched haystacks which Joshua happily slung over his shoulder and stacked in the cart. He did this over the noise of the Farmer, who had joined him, talking about Emilie. He had never met the girl's mother and highly suspected she was no longer around. He had looked for an errant light in the window at dusk, signs of another human in the farmhouse during his bathroom breaks. He could ask, but he would never; he already had a lifetime of those conversations. He heard enough of “I understand” to spare anyone else from having to hear him say it.
Emilie rejoined them as Joshua shimmied the last hay bale into place—ready for some butts. The ruined white dress must have been her only flashy ensemble because she now wore a tiny pair of blue jeans and oversized flannel shirt with sleeves so large that she flapped them like bird wings. She crawled up into the wagon and pulled a thick strand of hay out of the packed bundle. She put it in her mouth and Joshua smiled. Kids liked you to smile. His smile skewed sideways as she began vigorously chewing on the straw and then spitting it out. He couldn't blame her for balking at the taste of dried grass and iron, but that didn't explain why she did it in the first place.
Joshua didn’t get children.
It was thirty minutes till dusk, so the Farmer invited Joshua inside until then. After a hot drink, they could come back and tack the horse. As they walked, the Farmer was forced to offer Joshua a quick explanation on why "tacking" a horse wasn't animal cruelty. Joshua already knew all that, but playing the idiot had its amusements. At age thirteen, he decided he was smarter than most adults. From there it became a little game to him: how stupid would they believe? The downside of being viewed as an idiot was always lost on Joshua though.
Joshua and the Farmer plotzed along, eyes on their steps. They walked a shoulder’s width apart, not a word between them. Behind, Emilie made little jumps, following their footsteps in the stretches of grass and mud the Farmer called a yard.
"You know," Joshua began, "I don't think I know your name after all this time."
The Farmer's face screwed up into incredulity. Before he found the words, the faint outline of a hatchback framed itself into view through the break of the surrounding embankment. The high beams cut through the fog, temporarily blinding Joshua before the car stopped in front of the farmhouse, thirty feet away.
The Farmer gave a questioning gaze to Joshua who shrugged.
Joshua, the Farmer, and Emilie advanced across the steamy yard. The dark-tinted windows of the car were uninviting and the only sloshes of mud it bore were newly made. As they were right up on it, not the driver's side but the passenger's door swung open, almost shakily. A metal rod poked out and then a casted foot. The other leg swung around and revealed a brace clinging from ankle to hip.
"Pieter!" Joshua called.
A boy's pale face emerged from the car and turned even paler. The bulbous end of the crutches sunk into the ground like hammered fence posts and he warily looked away from Joshua to the Farmer.
"Isn't that the boy you ran into traffic?" the Farmer asked under his breath.
"Obviously."
"Why would you do that?" Emilie whispered, tugging on the tails of Joshua's shirt from behind.
Pieter fought his way against the mud with cheap aluminum and closed the gap. His chin stayed tucked to his chest and his eyes stayed firmly on the ground. Only a slight tilt, but Joshua could have sworn that the boy's body was angled away from him.
"I. . ." Pieter took a breath as he came upon them. "My mom says I need to apologize."
"For what?" Joshua asked with open eyes. "If anything this is my fault."
"It obviously isn't your fault, but I'm not here to apologize to you anyway." The boy took a breath and braced himself as if he was to jump in cold water. "Sir, I'm sorry for spending the week trying to scare you." His eyes wandered as high as the Farmer's chest. "It was stupid. I should have known better. Uhh– no. That's what I had to say."
"Oh, that's alright. Completely alright," the Farmer said. "You weren't causing no harm. And if that poor horse hadn't gotten hit by a truck, I'm sure it'd be a real laugh when the rest of us found out."
"That's what I said–" Pieter paused to look over his shoulder at the running car. "But my mum and dad both think I'm making fun at you, more than with you." Pieter tried to raise a hand to scratch his head. He managed that for only a split section before teetering and desperately grasping for his crutches again. "Anyway, let me know if you or anyone else needs work. I'm grounded until I can pay Mom back for a new horse."
"Your daddy not letting you off easy, huh?" the Farmer chuckled. "That's good to hear. How a kid should be raised. Just because a family has got money to own horses in the first place doesn't mean they shouldn't teach values. In fact. . . ." The Farmer scratched his chin and looked down to Emilie. "Seems like that's a good lesson, right Emm? Maybe you should be looking for a job too. Buy me a new dress."
"Why would you need a new dress?" Joshua asked, his mind already wandering from the conversation.
Pieter wavered hesitantly before nodding and awkwardly heading for the car. The Farmer chuckled again and ruffled Emilie's hair, a firm hand on her back guiding her to the house. But Joshua stood still, his head askew as the conversation ran through his brain.
Joshua ran to catch up, which wasn’t hard to do. “You’ve said you’ve bee pranking the Farmer for a week now. Yeah?”
Pieter's eyes wandered the scenery before nodding. "Sure."
"The Farmer has been talking about some 'Man in Black' for close to two weeks. How does that add up?"
"I only started dressing up like that and taking the horse out during the evenings because that crazy old man was yammering on about some nutty stuff. So clearly I'm not the first one playing games; I'm just the one who gets punished. Serves him right if he's haunted for real."
"Hearing you say it like that, I don't think it's my fault anymore. You really are kind of a jerk,” Joshua said.
"Thanks."
"Anytime." Joshua took a deep breath. "But let's focus on the big picture here. The 'Rider in Black' theory might be out because that's just you on a horse. But still. The rumor about the 'Man in Black' is unsolved. Someone else was skulking about. The Farmer did see someone else."
"Listen. It's getting dark and I need to get home. The painkillers are wearing off and everything."
"Sure, sure, sure." Joshua's voice sped up. "But don't you see! Something very, very wrong is going on here." He stepped forward and grabbed Pieter by the shoulders. "What do you know about a kidnapped child? Have you seen the County doing anything odd? Is there something supernatural going on?
Pieter's face sank into a mixture of terror and focus, trying not to fall over as Joshua shook him.
That didn't matter though.
Joshua couldn't quite piece it together, but things were starting to take shape. Only the question of Doctor Bartholomew remained. How did he fit into all of this?
Joshua and Kael would be going home one way or the other tomorrow. One question left to answer tonight.