The Fellowship for Alien Detection (17 page)

Reply posted by PiperMaruKrycek:

We have one and yes, weird broadcast! Hadn't tuned it in well enough to make out specifics. R U going to Heavenly Frequencies gathering? It is July 4 weekend at PhoenixTail Ranch and Spa in Oregon, near Bend. Great frequencies at those high altitudes, boosted by sacred sites and ancient wisdom! Largest gathering of amateur radio enthusiasts in the U.S. My wife and I will be there!

Reply posted by Thanksforthefish42:

You bet! I'll look for u!

Here was at least some evidence that Dodger wasn't making up Juliette. Maybe it was really out there, somewhere, this place he'd sketched, a place from his dreams, a place that felt like . . .

Home.

Dodger knew that was a weird thing to feel, and yet, he couldn't help it. He felt like, maybe, if he could find it, and see those streets and mountains that he'd dreamed of, and drawn, maybe it would feel like he belonged there.

But how to find it? He'd need to get on the road, and get to this gathering in Oregon. Applying for the Fellowship for Alien Detection had seemed like a good way to do that.

His parents had been shocked when he'd asked to apply. And they'd become silent, in that way that Dodger always assumed was a kind of unspeakable dismay, when they'd heard his fellowship theory, entitled:
Broadcasts from Missing Town as Proof of Alien Abductions
. And they were even more silent, nearly catatonic when he actually won. Dodger did not usually win things.

“Thanks, Dan. Okay, now back to the hits here on KJPR with—”

“Francis?”

The radio voice cut out and a splitting pain stabbed across Dodger's brain. That had been a pretty long connection, and the longer he listened to the voice, the more his head always hurt afterward.

Dodger looked up, eyes watering, to find Harry peering in though the vacant window frame at the far side of the kitchen. He was looking at Dodger with a slightly squinting expression, as if Dodger was a sign written in another language.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Dodger muttered, letting his head fall back against the metal oven door.

“Nothing?” Harry repeated. “We . . .” He looked away, into the space by the counter. “We were supposed to leave, like, ten minutes ago.”

“I was just checking my maps,” said Dodger.

Now Harry's eyes tracked around the unfinished room. “You know I don't like you over here.”

“Sorry.”

Harry sighed. He breathed in like he was going to say something, then didn't. He checked his watch. “I thought this fellowship was important to you.”

Dodger frowned. “It
is
. I just . . .” Dodger had a sudden urge, one that came over him from time to time. What if he just told Harry?
I'm over here because, you know that radio signal that I wrote my fellowship report about? You know how I said you could hear it on special radios? Well, my head is one of them
.

But Dodger could imagine Harry's reaction to that. He'd freak out and start calling psychiatrists and neurosurgeons, anyone who could explain such a crazy statement. And it
did
sound crazy, but at least if he were to say it, then Harry might understand that Dodger wasn't
trying
to disappoint him all the time.

And yet he hadn't before and he didn't now. “Sorry. I'll be out in a sec.”

“Are you packed?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.” He wasn't. “I just have to grab my bag.”

Harry's mouth shrunk. He shrugged. “Come on, Dodge, I don't want to hit that Seattle traffic.”

“Okay, I'll be right there.” Dodger started to fold up his maps.

“Hey.”

Dodger looked up.

Harry was peering at him. “What's that on your face?”

“Huh?” Dodger saw that Harry was indicating his own upper lip, beneath his nose. Dodger checked himself and felt something moist. He pulled his finger away and found a red smear on it.

“Is that blood?” Harry asked.

“Um, I . . . I guess.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I was just sitting here. Maybe it's the dry air,” Dodger said, despite the persistent sound of rain on the roof.

Harry gazed at him strangely, then blinked and looked away. “I'll meet you at the car.” He turned and left the window, hiking back out through the tangles of blackberry. Dodger heard a ripping from thorns and his dad cursing to himself.

Dodger wiped at his nose, making a streak of blood on his hand. Had the radio caused this? That couldn't be good. He gathered the maps around him, folding each with extra care to avoid getting any blood on them. He tucked the favorites inside his sweatshirt, closed the others back in the oven, then headed out of Number Two Orca View.

Over the years, his travels in and out of the house had carved a narrow track from the front door through the blackberry jungle to his yard. Dodger shivered in the gray drizzle and hunched over to further protect his maps. His head was beginning to clear, the pain from the radio headache subsiding.

He had reached the front steps of his house when he heard voices from around the side. His parents. They were over by the car, but only the huge rear end of the Lanes' Dodge Maximus was visible.

Dodger couldn't make out the words, just a frustrated tone from Harry and a soothing tone from Sophie. Dodger edged a few feet across the small front yard and listened.

“It'll be a dead end, Sophie, just like every other time!” Harry was saying in a livid whisper.

“You don't know that,” Sophie replied. “You may get out there and figure something out.”

Dodger peered around the corner. Sophie was standing by the open car door, clutching a shawl around her small frame. Harry was sitting in the driver's seat, his arms stiff and his hands clenching the steering wheel.

“Like what?” he said. “What's left to figure out? We should just—”

“Franny.” Sophie had spotted him. “Hey, are you ready to go yet?”

“Just gotta get my bag,” he said, and he caught Harry's glowering look as he turned and headed inside.

So his dad thought this trip was pointless. Great, but not at all surprising.

Dodger headed upstairs to his room. His suitcase was open on the bed, empty. His floor was covered in a sea of maps. Dodger quickly grabbed a few that he knew he'd need, folding them and placing them in his suitcase along with the ones from his sweatshirt. Then he threw in an extra pair of jeans, a couple T-shirts, socks and underwear, and his black hat with the green embroidered alien face on it. He slapped the suitcase shut and headed out.

Only he stopped at the door. A strange feeling had welled up inside him, a kind of shivery question mark that made him turn back and survey his room carefully. The bed with the navy and green plaid comforter, his computer, the maps all over his walls and the floor, mostly covering the solar system rug that he'd had since he was very young.

Take it all in
, he thought to himself. Just in case. Just in case what? Just in case he found what he was looking for: aliens, Juliette, whatever it was.

And never came back.

The thought made Dodger shudder, and he didn't know if it was something he hoped for or something he feared, but whatever it was, it was exciting. He turned and headed back out of the house. On the stairs, he tapped his pocket. The map of Juliette was there. The place he was setting out to find.

The place that he hoped, somehow, would feel like home.

Near Bend, OR, July 4, 4:08 p.m.

“You listen to these people, and you have to think to yourself, what kind of a person would act like that? Tell you what, if I had my way, they'd all be sent back to where they came from!”

“That's right,” Harry agreed.

Dodger sat slumped in the passenger seat. Harry had been listening to the
Surge McFarlain Show
for the three hours since they'd pulled out of the Relaxation Depot in Eugene, which had turned out much like Dodger had expected. The pool had been open but only lukewarm, and there had been no exercise bike but instead an elliptical machine, which Harry couldn't use because of his hip. Plus they'd ended up in a room with a king bed instead of two queens because apparently the other rooms had been prioritized for “Frequent Relaxer” customers, and Harry did not believe in reward programs. So, they'd fought for control of the covers all night. All of this had led Harry to deliver his verdict as they left: “Well, that was the Royal Rip-off! If we didn't have this fellowship debit card, I'd have asked to see the manager.”

They'd also listened to Surge for a good chunk of the six-hour drive from home to Eugene, especially during the stretch around Tacoma where the traffic had been miserable.

“Can we listen to some music?” Dodger had asked at one point.

“This calms me down,” Harry had said through gritted teeth, glaring out at the traffic and riding as tight to the bumper in front of him as possible. Dodger couldn't see how Surge McFarlain could calm down anyone, but then again it was better to have Harry talking back in agreement to Surge than railing against the drivers around them.

Dodger spent the first couple hours after Eugene trying to get the mobile version of
Civilizer
to work on his meBox, which Harry had gotten him on a promotional special at
Viva Value!
The meBox was neon green with a big red button on the side. It was made by
Viva Value!
and Harry claimed it was “Just Like One of Those Apple Products but Without the Markup.” Yet, as far as Dodger could tell, the only thing the meBox did well was freeze during games. Oh, and take pictures. In fact, there seemed to be no way to stop the meBox from snapping photos, since the big red button on the outside of the device was a direct link to the camera, and it would take a picture anytime you touched it by mistake or slid the meBox in or out of a pocket or bag. There was no way to disable this, at least that Dodger could find. As a result, Dodger had inadvertently taken hundreds of blurry or dark pictures.

The meBox was also unable to do the one thing that Dodger actually needed it to do, which was get on Wi-Fi so he could send email. As a result, Dodger had yet to send any updates to Alex Keller. He supposed he could have found another computer, but he felt like he had nothing to report yet anyway. After a few more unsuccessful tries at
Civilizer
, he slid the stupid meBox into his backpack.

Finally, as they crossed over the pass east of Eugene and entered the high desert of Oregon, Surge's signal got so static-filled that Harry turned it off. “I pay good money for that satellite radio,” Harry grumbled. “It is
not
supposed to have reception problems. That's the whole point of having it!”

They sat in silence. Around them was a dry world of orange-barked pine trees drenched in sun. The Maximus hummed over the highway. Dodger watched a snowcapped peak float by in the distance.

“So,” said Harry after a couple miles. “We're going to this radio convention thing to try to find out more about this missing town.”

“Yeah,” said Dodger. He felt himself tensing up. Other than a quick conversation about what to eat for dinner last night and a check-in about the sorry state of the Mariners, this was the first time they'd really talked.

“Juliette,” said Harry.

“Right,” said Dodger. He looked down at the map of the West, where he'd highlighted their route. It ended at Bend, which was up ahead, because Dodger didn't actually know where they were going to go after that. In his fellowship application, he'd said they were continuing from here to Devil's Tower, Area 51, and Roswell, but he'd only said that because you were supposed to have some sort of plan, and those were all classic spots in alien visitation lore.

His map showed the West from the coast to Colorado. It was one of his favorite maps, with the big green national parks, the giant splotches of national forest, the mountain ranges and deserts and volcanic formations. Still, he had little to go on regarding Juliette's location. He'd heard a few details in the radio broadcast: about the canyons, a ski area nearby, references to the high country, but that was most of the Rocky Mountain West.

“Any idea how a town can be missing?” Harry asked.

Dodger did not want to have this conversation. “Not really.” He sighed. “But people hear it, on radios.”

“And how do you know it's not a hoax?” Harry asked.

Dodger shrugged. Without revealing his own head-radio situation, what was he going to say? He felt like he could almost hear Harry holding himself back from just completely belittling this whole crazy idea. Really, Dodger was amazed they were even out here at all, except then Harry reminded him of the primary motivation.

“Well, even if this is all a scam, you'll still get that cash. Unless the whole fellowship is a scam. Now that would be a new level of Rip-off.”

The Imperial Rip-off?
Dodger wondered, thinking of what would be even more serious than “royal,” but all he said was “I guess.”