Midnight Sun (110 page)

“
Take
a
look
at
this
and
tell
me
what
it
says.
”

Marcus
came
into
the
room
and
glanced
down
at
the
paper.
Across
its
surface
in
neat
lines
flowed
the
waves
and
curls
of
handwritten
script.

“
This
isn
’
t
Arabic.
”

“
It
’
s
not?
”
said
Caufield.
“
What
is
it
,
then?
”

Hilde
’
s
cell
phone
rang.
She
walked
away
from
the
group
as
Marcus
explained
his
statement.

“
It's
Farsi
script.
”

“
Farsi?
”

“
The
language
of
the
Persians,
”
Marcus
said.
“
Iran.
”

“
Huh,
”
Caufield
grunted.
“
What
does
it
say?
”

“
I
’
m
not
fluent
in
Farsi
itself,
”
Marcus
replied.
“
But
this
is
actually
English.
”

Everyone
looked
at
Marcus
as
if
he
had
just
popped
out
of
a
rabbit
hole
wearing the Mad Hatter
’
s top
hat
.

Caufield
crunched
his
eyebrows
and
simply
said,
“
Explain.
”

“
It
is
Farsi
script
,
like
I
said,
but
the
words
are
English.
He
just
wrote
phonetically
in
the
Persian
alphabet,
but
it
is
definitely
English
.
”
He
scanned
over
the
sheet
slowly,
eyebrows
furrowing
as
he
studied
it.

“
What
does
it
say?
”
Tomer
asked
.

Caufield
and
the
others
looked
back
at
the
paper
,
squinting
as
if they thought that by
looking
at
it
with
enough
concentration
,
they
might
see
the
pattern
emerge
before
their
eyes.

“
It
’
s
an
excerpt
from
The
Cremation
of
Sam
McGee
,
the
old
Robert Service
poem
from
a
hundred
years
ago.
Except
it
has
been
significantly
changed.
”

Marcus
read
the poem
with
the
pace
and
rhythm
of
the
original
on
which
it
was
based.

“
There
are
strange
things
done
in
the
midnight
sun

By
the
men
who
moil
for
gold;

The
Arctic
trails
have
their
secret
tales

That
would
make
your
blood
run
cold;

The
Northern
Lights
have
seen
queer
sights,

But
the
queerest
they
ever
did
see

“
This
is
where
it
changes,
”
Marcus
said
,
then
continued
reading.

“
Was
that
night
on
the
marge
of
Anch
-
or
-
age

When
my
vengeance
loudly
screamed.

There
wasn
’
t
a
breath
in
that
land
of
death,
and