PART 5
The boy and the beetle approached a tall oak tree with a bright orange ‘X’ painted a few feet up on its trunk. It was surrounded by similar trees of varying heights, the orange markings shared by each of them.
“So,” Jack said, “this is the one, then?”
“Indeed,” said the beetle.
Jack surveyed the surrounding area. Near the edge of the treeline, a sign protruded from the ground, as though it had grown from the tall, unkempt grass. He walked around the sign and gave it a once over.
“Well LeCrae, good news and bad news.”
“Oh?”
“Good news is that I know the construction company that was contracted for the job. Bad news is that the lady who owns it is… well, Ms. Reed says she’s a real ‘piece of work’.”
“Then what do you surmise to be the proper course of action?”
“I’ll need to talk with some of the others. They may know what to do about this. Not stopping the tree from being uprooted, but more like, a workaround, I guess.”
“A workaround?”
“Well, you said all that stuff about the blood of the forest or whatever, but there’s a lot of trees, right? Maybe we can just get your friend into another tree, or something. Like, what hermit crabs do when they take a new shell.”
“It can’t be done.”
“That’s what they told the Wright Brothers,” Jack said.
“Who?”
The boy sighed. “Never mind. Point is, it’s gonna be real tough to stop the adults from cutting down that tree, LeCrae.”
“That may be true,” LeCrae said, his voice softening, “but I need this to be done. Even you, in your lack of years, must have experienced love for something, right? Would you stop just because the road to saving someone or something you love was lined with obstacles?”
Jack thought about this for a moment, but before he could respond, LeCrae continued.
“Now, imagine the pain of being absolutely powerless to your loved one’s predicament. Rather, almost powerless. You see, I can do one thing to help her: beg you to save a tree from its imminent demise.”
Jack considered this. He soon realized he could empathize with the beetle.
“I already told you once, didn’t I? I’ll help you,” Jack said, sighing, “but by the end of this, I don’t think you’ll be the only one here who’s done some begging.”
*****
Toby awoke with a singular purpose: to make sense of things. He got out of bed, stretching away the grogginess, and tried to get through his morning as quickly as possible. He ate his cereal at record speed, gave each of his parents a hug, and left, telling his parents he was meeting some friends at the park.
He felt the ‘click’ of his cherry red helmet, and propelled himself on his toy scooter down the sidewalk.
Twenty minutes later, he arrived at Sleepy Grove Christian’s laboratory. There was nothing special or particularly useful about the lab, at least, not at first glance. But, if one were to walk around the perimeter of the lab until square with the air conditioning vent, unscrew it with the screwdriver hidden inside a false rock casually strewn nearby, and crawl up the vent’s interior, they’d find a certain genius’s lair.
Sleepy Grove Christian’s laboratory had an attic. At least, it used to, until it was sealed away. On a cold, winter’s day, third grader Horace Jefferies decided he didn’t want to go home anymore. Why? Toby had made the suitable inquiries, but had never found an answer. Regardless, on a Tuesday in December, Horace Jefferies hid in the lab’s attic. It was far from a spontaneous act. Horace had already scouted out the place, as he was his class’s designated ‘science child,’ a title given to the student whose job it was to run up to the attic for supplies whenever the class needed them. He knew there was enough space for him to hole up without feeling claustrophobic, and a convenient air conditioning vent gave him access to a nearby bathroom. He’d have everything he needed, so long as he could find a way to source food and water. Which is exactly why he’d developed a supply chain in the form of a shared class secret.
To my esteemed classmates,
I, Horace Jefferies, am running away from home (my reasons are my own). Please don’t ask why, I will not tell you. Anyway, I’ll need some help, which is why I’ve written you this note. Tomorrow, during recess, I’m going to sneak into the air conditioning vent behind the science lab, and start living in the attic. I’ll bring two bottles of water, one bag of potato chips, and ten novels of various lengths, subjects, and genres. You may notice that this itemized list seems sparse. This is because, regrettably, my backpack can only hold so much, and I am not very strong (mostly due to my age and size).
To make a long story short, I’ll need your help. Attached is a list of instructions I’ve done my best to copy, it is unevenly printed due to my parents’ copier being on a tall shelf, which forced me to estimate whether the original was lined up correctly or not. Please, do not tell any adults, nor students from other classes. I trust you to keep my secret.
With Love,
Horace
Everyone in Horace’s class knew he was in the attic, but for a month, not a soul told on him. Horace knew it was within children’s nature to keep secrets, especially when the whole town would be trying to find him.
As patrol groups were sent out in search of little Horace, his class had organized supply runs to keep Horace nourished and hydrated. For that month, the class maintained their mission like clockwork. It could have continued indefinitely.
But, after thirty days, Horace ran out of books, and decided to go home. He told the adults everything, and out of severe embarrassment, the school sealed the attic away.
Now, the attic was once again utilized for science. Toby had slowly, but surely created a lair that could meet just about any of his needs. He’d fixed up a discarded computer, dusted off the shelves and tables left inside the place, and made the attic his own.
Today would be the first time Toby would poke his head through the air conditioning vent to find that he was not alone. His other two iterations were playing a game of chess.
“You know,” Buzzcut said, “we haven’t reached a draw even once. It’s twenty games to twenty one, and I think I’m just about to even it up.”
Toby watched a few more moves, at which point Ponytail laid down his king.
“I concede.”
“I would have expected at least one draw,” Toby said.
“My theory is that we adapt too much. Even from game to game, it’s like we’re facing a different opponent,” said Ponytail.
“I see,” Toby said, “well, I supposed it’s time we get down to business, shall we?”
Buzzcut sighed, then started setting up the board again. “Alright. I’m sure you have a new set of questions for us. So ask.”
“Fine. First, why did you come here?”
“My reality… you see,” Buzzcut started, trying to find the words, “something is wrong. To fix it, I’d need a team. A team of geniuses, no less. They’re a little bit hard to come by, especially for a child. So, the obvious solution was to figure out how to jump realities, and assemble a team of my selves.”
Ponytail saw it fit to add on. “That about covers it. He came to my reality, and now we’re coming to yours.”
“That’s all fine and good,” Toby said, pointing to Buzzcut, “but answer my original question, please. You mentioned something was wrong, but still, why did you come here?”
“It’s simple,” Buzzcut said, yawning, “to save the world.”
*****
Ace laid all her notes out in front of her. She’d made the Rawlings’ living room into a spider’s web of documents, photos, and newspaper clippings. She tiptoed around the wooden floor, dodging the papers and the strings laid on top of them. All of it represented the materialization of her deductive mind, a world created by Ace for Ace. Taking a good look at a spread of documents, she took a drag from her e-cig. Raindrops pattered on the rooftop, providing an assured, soothing tempo.
Ace scoffed at herself. If her mother could see her with a nicotine addiction, the living room held collateral in her pursuit…
Her father walked into the room, holding two cups of coffee. Ace rushed to pocket her device before her father noticed.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Chief Rawlings said, “you’re not even on the payroll, at least not officially. This is an adult’s job.”
Ace took a deep breath.
“Firstly, I think this is something only I can do,” Ace started, “but that’s not why I’m doing it. Whatever this thing is, it’s big, and there’s an answer for it. I can tell, it all matches up. But it’s like… all we have are ripples.”
“Ripples?”
“Yeah, ripples. There’s something out there making them, and they all come from one place. But just because we can see them doesn’t mean they give anything away. That’s how I know there’s a case here.”
Ace took one of the cups of coffee from her father, sipping from a mug which featured a picture of young Stacy at the beach, her mother and father holding her up on their shoulders.
“You’ll need to bring me on full time for this. Get me out of school, the whole deal.”
“You know I can’t-”
“You have to, Dad, because it could happen again. Look,” Ace said, gesturing to her web. “This starts with the Patterson family. Three years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson go missing, mysteriously, in the middle of the afternoon. To this day, I have no idea why or how. Of course, I wasn’t as good when I was thirteen as I am now, but neither the police force nor I could find even one hint as to what transpired. And that,” Ace said, gesturing to a grotesque photo of two dogs on a bedspread, “is what ten year old Jack Patterson, who now goes by, uhh,” Ace muttered, flipping through documents, “well, this is what he walked home to.”
Chief Rawlings studied Ace for a moment, as though on the precipice of a decision, then nodded. “Keep going.”
“A year and a half later, I catch the Midnight Marauder. The kid was capturing birds, dogs, anything he could get his hands on, and… well, you remember. In my report, I wrote, and I quote, “As far as I can reason, there is no connection between the Patterson case and this one. Further investigation suggested.” Well, today, I can say with certainty that there isn’t a single link between the two. I’ve gone through this case with a fine tooth comb, and I can definitively say that this is something else.”
Ace picked up the case file for the Midnight Marauder off the floor, and handed it to her father.
“It’s more likely that the Patterson case is the true link to whatever’s going on with the Robertsons,” she said.
“I’m not sure if the results have come back yet,” Chief Rawlings said, “but if you’re already this far, I should tell you about a thought I had way back when I cleared the Patterson house.”
“What is it?”
“I remember seeing those poor things sliced open, right down the center. It’s something I’ll never forget. But even as I was filled with anger and disgust, I had a thought. I…”
Ace’s father steadied himself on the banister of the staircase.
“I went over to those dogs, and turned them over. As you know, their internal organs had been removed, the interior was spotless. But I remember thinking how out of odd it was to leave the carcasses behind.”
“What are you saying?”
“I couldn’t understand why a person would take the eyes and organs of two dogs, and leave behind the carcasses, like they wanted them to be found. Those dogs were posed for whoever got to them first.”
“Give me a minute,” Ace said, sitting on the floor. She closed her eyes, and focused. What her father was saying made sense, and she’d been a fool to overlook it. She’d previously ascribed lunacy and purposelessness to this crime, but maybe she’d been wrong. Those dogs…
“What were those results you were waiting on?”
“On whether or not any of the bones on that skeleton could have belonged to the Patterson’s dogs.”
Ace smiled. Maybe her old man had a knack for this after all. “You think…”
“Why be so meticulous about it all, Stacy? Why go through gutting and cleaning out two dogs, just to leave them behind? It hit me as we were driving back from the Robertson home. What if the only purpose of leaving behind the bodies was to show that they didn’t take the bones? They could have been trying to trick us.”
“Why would they need the bones of those two dogs specifically if they already had replacements to fool us?”
“Exactly. I don’t have the answer to that, I’m afraid.”
Ace sighed. “That’s OK, Dad. You’ve given me a lot to think about. Why don’t you get some sleep? It’s easier for a kid to pull an all-nighter than an adult, after all.”
A smile slowly spread across Chief Rawlings’ weary face.
“Alright,” he said, resigning himself, “update me in the morning.”
Ace watched her father head upstairs, then turned back to her web. She grabbed the ball of string she’d tossed nearby. Finding the end of the strand, her mental machinations resumed. Well, I’ve got quite the night ahead of me. She smiled. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
Odds and Ends 
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