13

The visitors . . . again

I couldn’t believe it. I’d always sort of thought it was a dream because my memory of the event seemed so . . . warped. But it was them, all right.

Albert hurried away down the hall, and then he returned. In his hand was a framed picture of a sweet little puppy on a swing. He turned it over and behind the wire was the pamphlet. Years ago he had memoed me to hide it. In fact, he had still been a baby and couldn’t even crawl yet. I’d stuck it behind that picture and put it back on the wall, and I’d forgotten about it all this time.

Albert held the pamphlet out, and the small man took it.

“Thank you,” he responded. Then he turned to me and said, “I am the Commodore. We met when you were shorter and less intelligent.”

He showed me a smile, and it was just as creepy as I recalled—like piano keys lined up in a row. His small, pale head was completely bald, with ears like little shells. He wore brown-tinted glasses that had fabric on the sides, like the old-timey shades that mountaineers wore to prevent snow blindness. I couldn’t see his eyes at all. All three of them wore the same brown-tinted glasses.

The Commodore nudged the tall woman.

“I am Citizen Lady,” she said, as if on cue. “A female.”

“Your name is Citizen Lady?” I asked.

“Yes, that is correct. I am Citizen Lady. A female.”

The Commodore shook his head ever so slightly, as if he was trying to get her to shut up.

Citizen Lady commenced smiling the same toothy grin that the Commodore had showed. She was almost as tall as I recalled, and her blunt-cut, yellow hair had an overly shiny look that reminded me of a cheap Halloween wig. She wore the same style black suit as the Commodore and the other guy.

I turned to Brit with my eyes wide and my eyebrows up.

The third guy had dark skin that looked strange in the snowy light. It was too smooth. And his hair looked like it had been painted on his head. He introduced himself. “I am Med Tech Tek of this most effective triad. So pleased to greet you!” He didn’t offer a hand to shake, but he smiled and nodded, clicking his teeth softly. All three of them began smiling and doing a bobblehead nod, their teeth clicking away.

“So . . . what do you want?” I asked. I wished they’d quit their grinning and clicking—it was super creepy.

The Commodore ceased his head-bobbing. “We have data to share.”

“Hmm. Okay. Thank you!” I started closing the door. All of a sudden, Albert put his little booted foot in the way.

“Albert,” I bent over to hiss in his ear, “these guys could be serial killers. Don’t encourage them.”

Albert promptly sent me a memo that said Three safe, more info.

“Albie, you gotta give me more than that.”

Three safe—good order, he sent. The words were leafy-green and a butterfly shape floated peacefully through the calm. His memo was insistent—it pulsed green several times.

The strange visitors stood patiently on the porch, lined up tall to short. I looked back at Lars—he could be tough. “Lars, what do you think? Should we talk to them?”

Lars came to the door. “I want to see some ID,” he said, in a voice as deep and firm as he could muster.

The three weirdos glanced at each other, as if unsure.

“ID—ID—Identification,” the Commodore proclaimed in a voice that was slightly . . . mechanical. At the same moment, all three reached into their black jacket pockets and pulled out green-tinted cards. The cards were translucent with a bronze shield that had a butterfly center, surrounded by zeros and ones. Albert was standing next to me. He eyed the cards and sent me a memo. Legitimate.

“What do you mean, legitimate? These cards don’t say anything!”

Legit, legit, Albert repeated, with the happy butterfly multiplying itself.

I sighed and addressed the visitors. “Okay, what do you want?” I was intentionally trying to sound sharp and tough.

“We’d like to confer about the . . . situation.”

“Situation?”

“The anomaly in this area.”

“You mean the mist?”

“No.” Click-click went his teeth. “You are mistaken in naming it mist.”

“Well, then what?”

“A rip,” he said. His toothy smile had turned into a frown. “An interdimensional tear. It’s allowing unnatural energy into your world and if the imbalance continues, the results will be disastrous.”

“Disastrous,” they all repeated in unison.

I cast my mind back to the feelings that I’d had in the woods. There was no doubt that the situation was serious, but where did these guys come from? And why did they look and act so weird? I glared at the Commodore. “Are you with the police or, like, a government agency or something?” This idea came to me when I noticed their shoes. I recalled Meemaw saying that “government men” always wore black shoes, and these three characters did indeed wear black dress shoes with laces that tied—even Citizen Lady, who was, as she’d kept insisting, a female.

“Yes, the government,” the Commodore said, nodding. The other two bobbed their heads in agreement. Once again they eagerly showed me their cards.

I rolled my eyes. “These don’t mean anything to me; they could be Pokémon cards for all I know. But my brother seems to take them seriously.”

“Albert knows,” the Commodore asserted. He turned to my brother and made a quick, respectful little bow.

“The automobile is ready for departure,” Citizen Lady said, like she was hinting that they ought to hurry up.

“We invite you on a fact-finding mission,” the Commodore said, gesturing toward the street.

“No way!” I answered with the finality of a guillotine chop. “This is ridiculous. Do you expect us to go somewhere with you? I mean, you guys are totally suspicious showing up with your sunglasses and your sketchy IDs.” I was trying to sound rude on purpose. I thought it would make me seem more imposing.

The three characters looked at each other, and then at me.

“Duly noted,” the Commodore replied.

“I should have cleaned up the schematic,” Med Tech Tek said, displaying his remorse like a sad-faced clown.

The Commodore paid him no mind. “We would not presume on your peaceful lives if the situation did not require it,” he said. “Your brother will vouch.”

Albert sent me a memo that said Vouched, with a sure and certain edge to it.

Normally I trusted Albert 100 percent, but he was in my care and I didn’t trust these weirdos with their phony cards and silly names.

Albert attached a new memo. I must go for more information, for good order. A follow-up memo said With Pearl−or without. The memo was unyielding and it sat heavy on my heart. Albert began putting his jacket on. There was no stopping him when he was obsessed like this.

“So tell me the truth, Albert,” I said with just a hint of frustration. “Are you admitting that we have something to worry about?”

He responded immediately with a memo that quivered with anxiety. Yes, the time to worry is now.