Alex Bledsoe - The Hum and the Shiver

Blasco’s expression tightened. “So you’re one of them.”

“Because I don’t agree with you, I’m part of the conspiracy?”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “ I never said there was a conspiracy.”

“No, I guess you didn’t.” He stood, hoping the blogger would take the hint. “I don’t think I can be any more help to you, Fred. Sorry. Best of luck with your story.”

Blasco closed the laptop and stood. His face was splotchy with emotion, and a fresh sweat ring circled his collar. “This is the biggest story in the world, friend. And I gave you a chance to be part of it. When it breaks, you remember that.”

Don stared after Blasco for several moments after the door shut behind him. It was the silliest thing he’d ever heard in his life, the kind of thing only someone who stayed at home all day blogging could take seriously. And yet…

He sat back down, opened a search engine, and typed in the word fairy.

Blasco drove his rental car out of Unicorn and headed toward Cloud County, guided by Yahoo Maps printouts. He drove for four hours without finding any of the turns or roads that led into Needsville, and finally ran out of gas within sight of the interstate. The road he was on, though, went under the highway without any ramps. So, already exhausted from the heat, he started walking across a small field and into a stand of trees, toward the towering sign that indicated a gas station at the next exit ramp.

Bronwyn opened her eyes and saw Kell standing over her bed. She jumped, startled.

He smiled and said, “Boo.”

She sat up and yawned. “Why are you watching me sleep?”

“I’m not watching you sleep, I’m waking you up. Get dressed.”

Then she saw the darkness outside. “Holy shit, how the fuck long was I out?”

“You kiss our mama with that mouth? C’mon, wash up and put on some pants.”

“Why?”

“We’re going for a drive.”

She looked at the bedside clock. “It’s eight o’clock at night.”

“And they said you had brain damage.”

“Seriously, what’s the deal?”

“Seriously, get your ass in gear and I’ll tell you.” He pulled a strand of her hair and winked. “Trust me.”

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her broken leg was ridiculously smaller than its mate due to the muscle atrophy, but it looked surprisingly pink and healthy around the incisions. She wiggled her toes; the tingling was almost gone. “Hand me my crutches, will you?”

“Do you want your cast?”

“Hell no. I’m taking a goddamn shower like an adult.”

He nodded at the stitched places. “Are you supposed to get those wet?”

“Probably not.”

“Want Mom to help?”

Bronwyn used the crutches to stand and tucked them under her arms. “No, I don’t. I’m twenty years old, I should be able to wash myself.” She looked down and added quietly, “But do me a favor, stand outside the door and listen for a loud thud, will you?”

He laughed. “Sure.”

An hour later they were in Kell’s car, riding smoothly over roads guaranteed to rattle the bones of the non-Tufa. Bronwyn suspected she knew their destination, but hoped she was wrong.

She watched the light from the dashboard play across her brother’s features. Kell had never been a skirt-chaser, being too focused on whatever task was before him, whether farming, studying, or working one of his many part-time jobs. But he’d grown into a handsome young man who no doubt drew the eye of many well-bred ladies on the UT campus. He knew full well the dangers of a Tufa man becoming too intimate with a non-Tufa girl, though; he’d seen Stoney Hicks’s life marked by the suicides of desperate girlfriends he’d dropped with no more thought than if they’d been empty soft drink cans.

“So where are we going?” she asked finally.

“Don’t be a moron. You know where we’re going.”

She felt a sudden chill, not of fear exactly, but certainly apprehension. “I’d rather not, Kell,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I mean, I’ve only been home a week, and I just got the pins out of my leg on Saturday.”

“I know,” he agreed. “But you need to do this, and you’re gonna.”

She put her hands on the dashboard, fighting the panic. “I will, I promise, just not tonight, okay?”

He turned to look at her. “Why not?”

“Why not? Today was the first time I’ve played anything in two years.”

He made a sour face. “I know, I heard you.”

“Ha ha, smart-ass.”

“Seriously, though, you weren’t bad. Your song was there. So if a toe-dip like today worked, just think what a full dunking will do.”

“Drown me,” she said, but her real fear trumped her irony. “Kell, please, don’t do this. Don’t make me do this. I’ve got a bad leg, a haint on my ass, and all the worries about Mom. Let me figure out at least one of those first, okay?”

“I’m not making you. I’m taking you, but not making you. What you do when we get there is your business.”

She stared into the night. The road became a path she could almost drive with her eyes closed, as any real Tufa could. Ahead a glow rose above the treetops. Her mouth was dry and her chest hurt from not breathing.

They rounded the last curve, and suddenly parked vehicles lined either side of the road. Past them rose an enormous old barn, with SEE ROCK CITY painted in huge letters on its roof. Light spilled out through spaces between the wall slats, and shadowy figures moved inside. Down the hill below it, young teens danced around a bonfire.

Kell drove right up to the barn’s side door. A large man in overalls and a weathered Tampa Bay Buccaneers cap sat on an old crate beside the door. He held a cigar box with duct tape reinforcement along its seams. Beside him, a ten-year-old boy sprawled on the ground playing a battered Gameboy.

The man’s leathery face lit up when Bronwyn opened the car door. “Good gosh a’mighty, it’s the Bronwynator!” he exclaimed. To the boy at his side he said, “Go in there and pass the word.”

“Uncle Node, please,” Bronwyn said as she eased her leg out. Kell got her crutches from the trunk and brought them to her. “I’m just here to listen and see people. We’ll just slip in the back, that way we won’t bother anybody.”

“Bother, hell, this is an occasion.” The boy had not moved, so he slapped him gently on the back of the head. “What’d I tell you?” The boy jumped up and scurried off.

“I’ll go and park the car,” Kell said. “Wait for me.”

Noah Vanover, known to everyone as Uncle Node, stood and took Bronwyn by the shoulders. “You sure been missed here, Bronwyn. It does my old heart good to see you.”

He released her and made a sign with his hands. She smiled and gave the appropriate sign back. Then she leaned up and kissed his cheek. It smelled of freshly turned earth after a rain. “I’ve missed you, too, Uncle Node. And this place.”

Kell returned. “Anything special happening tonight, Uncle Node?”

“Just your baby sister coming back to us.”

“I may not be all the way back yet,” she warned.

“Well, if you ain’t, you soon will be,” Vanover said with certainty.

She followed Kell into the barn. As soon as the door opened, the music that had been barely audible outside hit her chest with a thump like a shell exploding nearby. For just a moment she smelled the desert’s dry air, and burning blood, and cordite. Then she was back in the present, and the impact spread through her far differently than any mere ordnance concussion.

Kell sensed her change and patted her hand where it held the crutch handle. “Drowning?” he said over the music.