32

Super bold

The SMHR units had left the Volkswagen idling in Rona’s carport. It mostly looked like a normal V-Dub but it kept doing a jumpy, shimmer thing, and that didn’t look normal at all.

Once again we all squeezed into the snug interior. Up in the front seat, the SMHR units sat quietly. The Commodore was driving, concentrating on whatever it was he concentrated on. In the back seat, Albert was sitting on my lap and Brit was sitting on Lars’s lap. Agent Saunders was squished in between us. Talk about sardines in a can.

When we started off, the billowing cloud accompanied us, but once we were up, the Commodore eased off on the fog and we were able to see the view. The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, shining on the scene below.

There was a parade of busses making their way south on 266. They were going in the opposite direction of us; Ma and Meemaw were getting farther and farther away from home. It sort of made my heart hurt to think of it. As I watched, one bus skidded to a stop and people poured out the door, shoving and fighting. All those nice people who had been helping each other in Adeline were now on the road, yelling and punching and being awful. If only they knew they were being poisoned by something that didn’t belong here. I just hoped Ma wasn’t on that bus.

“I bet Ma is trying to call me right now. Can we get calls up here?” I asked.

“Not in flight,” Med Tech Tek said. “Our electronics interfere with your devices.”

I sighed.

It seemed like the Commodore was driving slower than he normally did. I was glad because it gave me time to think. Below us, the lights of Adeline twinkled. They grew small as we crossed the valley, past fields where snow banished fences and borders. Everything looked so soft and pretty in the light of the moon that I wanted to hold on to the moment. I closed my eyes.

In summertime there were strawberries down there, and over the bridge was Kahn’s U-pick Blueberry Farm. In the fall, Zucker’s Corn Maze—run by Rona’s brother-in-law, Earl—did a steady business with schoolchildren and families in search of activities in the country. It was really lame, that dumb corn maze, but the little kids loved it. We went there in second grade and learned about corn, and Brit threw up on the bus on the way back to school. I noticed that Brit was watching the scenery, too. Then all of a sudden we were looking at each other. Her eyes were glassy with tears, and so were mine.

I reached over and held Brit’s hand. We knew we were heading into terrible danger; it was like we were going to war.

“Zucker’s Corn Maze,” I said with a sad smile.

“I hurled on the bus.” She grinned.

“It was so gross.”

We started to laugh.

Lars reached out his lanky hand and gripped both of our hands. And then Albert pointed his finger and barely tapped the top of Lars’s hand—he didn’t usually do that sort of thing. With his little finger-tap, I got a memo loud and clear, like a trumpet blast. It said SUPER BOLD.

The SMHR-vehicle was back in the cloud. The Commodore must have turned on the fog machine.

“After you disembark, the triad will transmit the commercial,” Citizen Lady said.

“Wait, what are you going to say?” I asked.

Without fanfare, Citizen Lady recited, “People of Earth, it is critical at this juncture that you facilitate profound happiness.” She seemed satisfied with her marketing sound-bite.

Brit and I shared faces of extreme disapproval.

I imagined Citizen Lady broadcasting her message. She would sound about as warm and fuzzy as the annoying THIS IS NOT A DRILL voice. I tried to be polite. “Citizen Lady, I’m thinking that maybe one of us should do the talking. I think it would be more sincere coming from—you know—a human being.”

The SMHR units considered this for about two seconds. “Agreed,” they all said.

“It should be Mary.” Brit squeezed my hand. “Mary’s good at making people feel better.”

“That’s true,” Lars interjected. “She just did it a few minutes ago.”

Albert memoed me a silly thumbs-up.

I felt a growing panic when it began to dawn on me that I’d have to say something to tons of people. I didn’t like being the center of attention. What was the right thing to say? What were the words? Getting wedged into making this commercial was starting to make me feel sick—but then I remembered super bold and I considered the alternative; annihilation was definitely worse than stage fright. Yeah, I could do this.

Med Tech Tek turned to Saunders. “As soon as you are able, call your superiors to reiterate that they must stay away from the anomaly.”

Saunders nodded.

“We’ll unlock the garage door remotely,” the Commodore said. “And once the lasers are engaged, we should be able to recalibrate them to cut a new channel next to the old one. Albert’s job is to power up the machine and mentally construct the fractals into their proper algorithms.”

“What about the commercial?” I asked. “How are you guys going to film it and broadcast it?”

“Easily accomplished from our—er, automobile,” Med Tech Tek said. “The triad will signal the lab and our integral craft can transmit the message far and wide.”

“Okay. Okay,” I repeated nervously. “I just gotta think of what to say.”

“The timing will be tricky,” Citizen Lady said gravely. “As soon as Pearl attempts inspirational thought, the negative energies will swarm to overwhelm her. It is critical that the channel is baited and operational before Pearl speaks. The energies must be distracted.”

“So Mary has to fight off all the negative energy and give a speech to the entire world at the same time? No pressure there,” Brit said sarcastically.