“WHAT ON EARTH DO you do up there?” Byron snapped. He was pacing the living room, glancing out the front door. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just come with me.”
“Where?”
“There.” Byron gestured up the block, where a sports car and a black-windowed limo idled at the curb. Two men and a woman, all wearing sunglasses, stood in front of the cars. “Do you recognize the guy with the gray beard?”
Jake peered out. “Your parole officer?”
“Ha-ha. It’s Gideon Kozaar, Jake. The Gideon Kozaar? The movie director?”
“Never heard of him. What’s he done?”
Byron rolled his eyes. “You were in diapers when he made his last movie. That’s his style. Nobody hears about him for years — and then, boom, the rumors start: he’s making another film. Only no one ever knows for sure, because Kozaar keeps everything about the movie totally secret until opening day. But we know about this one — because his casting people were at the high school today, looking for total unknowns. Teens.”
“Is that what you called me down for? I don’t want to be in a movie.”
“Not you — me!”
“You can’t act! You had two lines in the school play.”
“Seven. And you don’t need experience. He said so. He doesn’t even use a script. He just gives the actors a situation and they improvise. Is that easy or what? And if you get cast, you’re automatically in the screen actors’ union, SAG. Anyway, I had a great audition —but about seventeen million other kids auditioned, too. They can’t possibly remember us all. So I have to stand out, Jake. To be different from the rest. You have to help me — ”
“Byron?” Jake said, turning back into the house. “Remind me to tell you sometime how much I hate your guts.”
“The movie’s about the Civil War, dork-face!”
Jake stopped in his tracks.
A Civil War movie? Here?
The feeling.
It was back. Instantly. Right there in the living room.
Careful, you’re talking to Byron the truth-challenged.
“I don’t believe you,” Jake said.
“In the audition they asked us to improvise a Civil War scene. Like we were on the battlefield.”
“Where are they filming it?”
“How should I know? It’s a secret. Anyway, you’re the expert. Tell me how I can impress them — like, dress up in that costume upstairs, go out there and talk in an authentic Civil War accent — ?”
“It’s not a costume, it’s a uniform,” Jake said. “And there’s no such thing as a Civil War accent.”
“So tell me what to do.”
Jake went to the door and peered up the block. One of Gideon Kozaar’s assistants was pointing to a house and comparing it to a sketch.
“That house wasn’t here during the war,” Jake murmured.
“So?” Byron snapped.
“So, they’re talking about it. Drawing it. Like they’re going to use it in the film. And if they do, they’ll be wrong.”
“That’s it. I’ll tell them that!”
No.
I will.
“Let’s go,” Jake said. “I’ll do the talking. You just nod and try to look smart. That’ll be a perfect acting assignment for you.”
He stepped out the front door before Byron could reply.
“Yo!” Jake called out. “That house was built in, like, 1910.”
Three pairs of black lenses stared back at Jake. Three bored, annoyed expressions.
“You can’t say ‘hello’ first?” Byron whispered, walking behind Jake.
Jake gestured back to his own house. “Ours was here during the Civil War. So were Numbers Thirty-seven, Fifteen, and Fifty-three — except Fifteen didn’t have the extra wing.”
“Uh, this is my baby brother, Jake,” Byron blurted out. “Jake, this is Mr. Kozaar and his talent scouts — ”
“Set designers,” the woman replied.
“Right. Well, I was just telling Jake about my audition, and — ”
“What’s the film about?” Jake interrupted. “The Massacre at Standish Crossing? No, wait — the dynamiting of the Underground Railroad near Spencer’s Bluff?”
Gideon Kozaar cocked his head toward Jake. His face was wrinkled and thin, his hair brittle and almost white. “I don’t know about those,” he said in a soft, deep voice.
Jake nodded. “I know. The Battle of Dead Man’s Trace, right? Where the Union Army got slaughtered by the Confederates because of their own stupidity. That’s the one everyone knows about.”
“Oh?” said Gideon Kozaar.
“You don’t hear about the others. I have, but I know just about everything about the war. It’s like a hobby, I guess — ”
“Jake’s the history buff in the family,” Byron quickly interjected. “I’m the actor.”
“My great-great-great grandfather on my mom’s side died in the Battle of Dead Man’s Trace,” Jake barreled on. “Well, supposedly. We don’t know his name. People around here have sort of forgotten the details about that battle — even exactly where Dead Man’s Trace was. They’re still sort of embarrassed about the defeat — which is weird, I know, because it was so long ago, but — ”
“So! Uh, would you guys like to see our authentic Civil War house?” Byron interrupted.
“ — Anyway, to be honest,” Jake went on, “in my opinion the Standish Crossing Massacre would be a much better idea for a movie than — ”
“Jake!” Byron snapped. He turned quickly to Gideon Kozaar. “We have antiques and everything. I mean, if you want to do research, hey, this is the place. I can show you around and — ”
“Mom said no one’s allowed in while she and Dad are in Chicago,” Jake said.
Byron glared at him. “She won’t mind if Gideon Kozaar visits. So, you guys want coffee and doughnuts?”
The two set designers looked at Gideon Kozaar.
He nodded.
“Great,” Byron said. “Jake will get them from the deli.”
“What?” Jake protested.
“A dozen assorted. Chocolate cruller for me. Take your time. ’Bye!”
The two set designers followed Byron as he started back toward the house.
“But —but I — ”
“I’ll give you a ride,” rumbled the voice of Gideon Kozaar.
Jake spun around. “You will?”
Gideon Kozaar removed his sunglasses.
Jake’s breath caught in his throat.
Silver.
Green.
Yellow.
Kozaar’s eyes seemed to be changing color. Slowly, like tinted shades drawn across a window. Jake tried to look away but he couldn’t.
“Tell the driver the address,” Kozaar said, opening the back door of the limo.
“Hey! Aren’t you coming?” Byron shouted.
Jake didn’t answer Byron. He felt numb.
He’s a stranger.
He’s world-famous.
He’s creepy.
He’s interesting.
And you don’t say no to Gideon Kozaar.
“The Corner Pantry,” Jake said, climbing into the backseat. “Take a left when you get to Main.”
Gideon Kozaar went around and slipped in the other side.
Jake caught a quick glimpse of Byron’s bewildered face as the limo pulled away.
Jake swallowed hard and sat back. The car was dead silent. Not even a radio. Gideon Kozaar stared straight ahead.
“Thanks,” Jake finally said, “for the ride, I mean — ”
“What would you have done?” Gideon Kozaar interrupted.
“Done?”
“At the Battle of Dead Man’s Trace. If you were alive then, fighting for the Union.”
Good question.
Jake thought a moment. He tried to remember the details of what he’d read. It wasn’t much.
“Well, I don’t know exactly where it happened,” he finally admitted, “or the details of the battle. No one does. But if I were there, and I knew the geography and the Union plans, I would have figured out the ambush. I just know it. And I wouldn’t have let the Confederates anywhere near the camp. I would have fought them bare-handed if I had to.”
A slow smile spread across Gideon Kozaar’s face as the limo began to slow down.
“Here’s the Corner Pantry,” the driver said.
The car stopped at the curb, and the driver got out to open Jake’s door.
“Do you want anything?” Jake asked as he climbed out.
“Yes,” Gideon Kozaar said. “But I can wait.”
Then he gave a signal, and the car drove off.
Byron was pacing the living room alone when Jake got back.
“Delivery!” Jake shouted. “Where is everybody?”
“I can’t believe what you did,” Byron murmured.
“They left already?” Jake asked.
“You drove away with him. You stole him.”
Jake put down his bag on the coffee table, where an old brass oil lamp used to be. “Uh, Byron? Something’s missing here.”
“I rented it to them.”
“Rented?”
“They need props. For the movie. So I showed them around and — ”
“Are you crazy? Mom and Dad will kill you!”
“Why? They gave me receipts. They’re going to pay us.”
“What else did you give them?”
“Nothing. Just some junk from the attic.”
The attic.
Jake bolted upstairs.
The door was open. He flicked on the light.
The room felt different. Emptier.
The coat rack.
The old milk can.
Both taken.
He ran into the corner and opened the steamer trunk. A blanket lay on top, wrinkled. The uniform, cap, and dagger were gone.