Chapter 2

 

Forty-five minutes later, Johnny and Nina were trudging up the serpentine driveway through the birch, poplar, and pine that sheltered the big brick house they lived in. They called it Birchwood. It was the only home Johnny had ever known. Nina lived there, too, with her guardian, Louie Hofstedter—Johnny’s uncle.

Johnny sniffed the air and could smell the crisp scent of the evergreens. He knew he had the best of both worlds—the city close by, the big woods a stone’s throw behind the house. Why would a fellow want to be anywhere else?

As soon as they walked in the front door, they heard a shout from the living room.

“Is that you, guys?” hollered Mel.

“Who else would it be?” Johnny hollered back.

“Get in here right now,” his seventeen-year-old sister barked.

With Nina right behind him, Johnny trotted into the living room—anxious to find out what was going on.

Dame Honoria stood over by the bookcase, her face looking less dour than usual. In fact, the stout old lady was actually wearing a broad and very uncharacteristic grin.

Mel stood in the middle of the room, in front of the big stuffed chair Uncle Louie was sitting in. She was bent over, fussing with something on his head.

That’s when Johnny realized what was going on, why the colonel had summoned Nina and him. Johnny had been waiting for this moment for weeks now.

“Holy maroley! Does this mean they’re ready?”

As if to answer, Mel stepped back and Uncle Louie stood up.

Catching sight of the big man, Nina broke into a fit of giggles.

Still in the overalls he wore to work at the Babbitt aeroboat port, Uncle Louie flashed a crooked grin. Over his eyes, he had on the most remarkable pair of goggles Johnny had ever seen.

His previously gloomy mood lifted. Not just because Uncle Louie looked pretty darn comical. But because if Mel had actually succeeded, this could be big news.

Johnny had been there when the eyewear started its life as a pair of ordinary aviator goggles. Over the last few months, Mel had transformed them. She had removed the glass, replacing it with special optical lens crystal of exceeding purity. She had set the round lenses into delicate copper frames, then coated the glass with a special liquid prepared from a culture made with her own tears. Using ordinary batteries and fine copper wire, she energized the matrix of glass and dried culture. To Johnny, the goggles looked like something that belonged on the cover of a Captain Justice adventure book.

“They don’t fit perfectly,” Mel said. “But I think I’ve got the formula pretty close to optimum. The coating is delicate. I don’t know what kind of endurance it has or how it will wear.”

“But do they work?” Johnny asked. If they did, it meant that the ninety-seven percent of the population who couldn’t see ghosts would now be able to. It would be an incredible achievement. And the patent would be worth millions—way more than enough to pay off the mortgage on Birchwood and provide a secure future for the whole family.

“Do they work?” Nina echoed, her own eyes wide with wonderment.

Mel and Uncle Louie could barely contain themselves. And Dame Honoria was bubbling as much as an old, plump dowager was able to bubble.

Turning to Colonel MacFarlane, who was standing at ease back by the wall of bookshelves, Mel said, “Colonel, do something unexpected for Uncle Louie.”

“Such as?” the ghost officer asked.

“Something funny.”

Now Johnny wanted to see this, because “funny” was not something he normally associated with the dead—and dead serious—Border War cavalryman. He understood, though, what Mel was up to. Uncle Louie didn’t have etheric sight. So if he could describe what the colonel was doing, it meant the etheric goggles really did the job.

The first thing that impressed Johnny was that Uncle Louie looked right at the bookshelves, directly at the spot where the ramrod-straight ghost officer was standing.

“Holy cow!” said Uncle Louie. “There he is.”

Then the colonel did indeed do something funny.

For ten seconds or so, he danced a lively little jig, his arms straight down by his sides, his legs pumping.

“The colonel is dancing!” Uncle Louie exclaimed.

Nina rushed toward Mel and grabbed her in a big hug. “You did it! You did it!” Then she turned and embraced Uncle Louie. “Now let me try them!”

Johnny was not one to normally give people hugs. So he gave Mel a pat on the shoulder. He was pretty proud of what his big sister had just accomplished.

Even the colonel was grinning as Uncle Louie took off the etheric goggles and gently rested them on the bridge of Nina’s nose. Mel spent a couple of minutes adjusting them to fit her.

Then, her black corkscrew curls bouncing, Nina twisted around, holding the goggles tightly up to her eyes. “Wow!” she yelped.

Johnny watched her stare at the colonel, her mouth wide open with amazement. He could barely imagine what it must be like for someone who had never seen a ghost to catch sight of one for the first time. Maybe it was like being blind and suddenly seeing.

“I had no idea how handsome Colonel MacFarlane is,” Nina said excitedly. “I am so happy to know what you look like.”

Being a ghost and dead for over seventy years, the colonel lacked the capacity to blush. But Johnny suspected that’s just what he wanted to do, somewhere beneath his translucent features.

“Miss Nina is too kind,” the colonel said. “I’m just a plain old horse soldier.”

Then Nina gazed around the room and smiled.

“Hi, Mrs. Lundgren,” she said, waving at the ghost housekeeper. “And hello, Bao. You’re very, very cute.”

The little girl ghost giggled, her black headdress bobbing. Then she did the curtsy that Dame Honoria had taught her.

“It’s just a prototype,” Mel explained, taking back the goggles from Nina. “A bit rough and bulky. It needs a lot more work. But the principle is solid.”

Just then, the telephone in the hallway began to ring. Uncle Louie strode off to answer it.

Johnny was giving the goggles a close inspection when his uncle returned. The big man looked worried.

“What’s up, Uncle Louie?” asked Johnny.

“It was your boss, Mr. Cargill.”

“Does he need me for something?” Johnny was all ears. When the editor-in-chief of the Clarion called you, you hopped to it.

“He said he needs to see all of us,” replied Uncle Louie. “There’s someone we have to meet. He didn’t want to explain it over the telephone. But he said it couldn’t wait. They’re coming out here right away.”

Something’s happened, Johnny thought. If Mr. Cargill couldn’t delay his news until tomorrow, it was probably something bad.