Mark Dunn - The Age Altertron

Mr. Dean’s raised voice drew the curious Professor’s head back into the room.

Aunt Mildred turned to Mr. and Mrs. Ragsdale and said, “Your missing boy Petey is on the telephone!”

With that, the Ragsdales dashed out of the den and down the hall to the kitchen. Mr. Ragsdale yanked up the phone receiver resting on the kitchen counter, and Mrs. Ragsdale leaned in to listen alongside her husband.

“Where is your extension?” asked the Professor of Aunt Mildred as all the adults in the den went scurrying down the hallway to join the Ragsdales in the kitchen.

“There is one upstairs in my nephew Mitch’s bedroom,” said Aunt Mildred pointing to the staircase behind her and smiling because she could be helpful to the Professor.

“Thank you,” said the Professor with a nod of the head. With his now more youthful legs, he was able to take the stairs two at a time.

In the den, Rodney and Wayne sat alone on the sofa thinking that they had been forgotten in everyone’s mad rush to find out if it really was Petey Ragsdale on the phone and from where on earth he might be calling.

“HEY!” yelled Wayne. “SOMEBODY! ANYBODY!”

In an instant, the normally absent-minded Principal Kelsey, who had shown up at the McCall front door concerned about how his school children would be affected by this most recent calamity, swept into the room and scooped Baby Rodney and Baby Wayne into his arms. With a grunt, he said, “You might be eighteen-monthsold, but you’re still just as heavy as two sacks of potatoes!” Carrying the boys, one under each arm as if they were, indeed, potatoes, the school principal conveyed them to the kitchen, which was now just as crowded as the den had been, and for want of any better place, set them down in their old high chairs.

“Petey? Petey is that really you on the phone?” asked Mr. Ragsdale into the telephone receiver.

“Yes, Dad. It’s me: Petey.”

“Well, I’ll have to admit that it certainly sounds like you. But how can I be sure that it really is you?”

“I have a metal plate in my head and the little toe on my left foot doesn’t have a toenail.”

“But everyone knows that , son. Tell me something that only Petey and his mother and father would know.”

“I know!” offered Wayne from his high chair. “Ask him what he had for lunch at school yesterday.”

Mr. Ragsdale nodded. “Petey, son, tell me what your mother put into your Hopalong Cassidy lunch carrier yesterday.”

“I don’t have a Hopalong Cassidy lunch carrier, Dad. I have a Roy Rogers lunch carrier.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right! A Roy Rogers lunch carrier. Now tell me what your mother made you for lunch.”

“A round meat sandwich and a yellow monkey fruit and some root juice.”

“Oh, that’s right!” exclaimed Petey’s mother. “I packed him a bologna sandwich and a banana and a bottle of root beer. It’s Petey! Only Petey would have said it just that way without any ‘ b ’s!” Mr. Ragsdale held the phone receiver out for his wife to speak into. “Where are you, honey? Tell us where you’re calling from.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know where you are?”

“No, I don’t, Mom.”

“What does it look like?” asked the Professor, speaking on the upstairs telephone extension.

“It doesn’t look like anything. Is that you , Professor?”

“Yes, it’s me, Petey. Now try very hard to give us some kind of idea as to where you are.”

“Okay. It’s very foggy. And there are clouds.”

“And vapor. Is there vapor?” asked the Professor, jotting the facts down in his pocket notepad.

“Yes sir. Vapor and clouds. Oh, and fog. And also some steam.”

Mrs. Carter could not help herself. She cried out, “Is my girl Lucinda with him? Ask him if Lucinda is there!”

Mr. Ragsdale nodded. “Petey, Mrs. Carter would like to know if her daughter Lucinda is there with you.”

“Well, it’s not easy to see everyone. There is too much vapor and clouds and fog and steam. I think she’s here, though. Let me ask. LUCINDA? LUCINDA CARTER, ARE YOU HERE?”

A tiny voice replied, “I’m over here!”

“Yes, Dad. Tell Mrs. Carter that she’s here.”

“What about Armstrong’s kids, Darvin and Daisy?” asked Mr. Craft. “Ask about them.”

“Did you hear that, Petey?” said Mr. Ragsdale into the phone. “Are Darvin and Daisy Armstrong there with you?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Dad. I’ll find out. DARVIN? DAISY? ARE YOU HERE?

“They’re right here!” replied Lucinda. “I’ve got them with me.”

“They’re here too, Dad,” said Petey. “Say, Professor, what’s going on? What are we doing here? When do we get to go home?”

“We’re just starting to put all the pieces together, Petey. I’m afraid it will take a little time to get everything figured out. Now, do you have the sense that you are in a room, son? Or out-of-doors somewhere?”

“There are no walls that I can see, Professor,” answered Petey. “Not even a ceiling or floor. It’s like we’re all sort of floating in space .”

“Most curious,” said the Professor, making notes. “And how old are you, Petey? How old are the other children?”

“The same age we were yesterday, I guess. I can’t see much of a difference in the way we look except that you can kind of see through us like we’re ghosts or something.”

“Ghosts!” Mrs. Ragsdale shrieked. “That can only mean one thing!”

“ Corporeal transparency could have many possible causes,” said the Professor in a calming voice. “Now, Petey, how did you find the telephone?”

“Gee, I don’t know, Professor. It just sort of appeared. Hey, are Rodney and Wayne there? They’re not here with me.”

“Yes, Petey. They’re here,” answered Mr. Ragsdale. “But they’ve been turned into infants and I don’t think they know how to talk on the phone.”

“Yes we do!” said Wayne, offended by the put-down.

Mr. Ragsdale made a shh sign with his finger and his lips, and then spoke into the phone. “Thank goodness there are telephones wherever you are, son. Now you take good care of yourself until the Professor can put everything back the way it was.”

“I will, Dad. In fact, I’m doing more than just taking care of myself . It looks like I’m the oldest one here. And the tallest. I’ve never been in a place where I was the oldest and the tallest. I guess it’s up to me to look after all these children until we get to go home.”

“That’s a fine thing, Petey. You make your mother and me very proud.”

Mrs. Ragsdale pulled the phone receiver over to her mouth so she could say something else to her son: “Is there a number there where we can reach you?”

“I didn’t understand the first part of what you said, Mom.”

“A number , Petey. A phone number.”

“Yes, there’s a phone here. I’m talking on it.”

“No, you don’t understand, honey.” Mrs. Ragsdale began to cry. “Oh Drew — I can’t think of another way to say ‘phone number.’ Is there another way to say it so that it doesn’t have a ‘b’ in it?”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” said Mr. Ragsdale.

“I can hardly hear you, Mom.”

“You’re fading too, sweetie. But don’t go yet! Don’t go!”

“I love you, Mom! I love you, Dad!”

“We love you too, honey.”

“So long!”

“So long, son.”

Mr. Ragsdale handed the phone receiver back to Aunt Mildred and wiped a tear from his cheek.

A moment or so later, the Professor returned to the kitchen. A somber quiet had fallen over the room, with the exception of the scratchy sound Aunt Mildred made sweeping sugar into her hand from the messy table.