The Lost Days (12 page)
Authors: Rob Reger
| | M | | [Starting to sweat, heart thumping. What do you mean, “get me out of the picture?” Are you trying to tell me he’s going to kill me? |
| | J | | I don’t know what he’s planning. I haven’t seen him in days. |
| | M | | Why, what’s he doing? |
| | J: | | Take it easy. I heard he’s been having lunch with the mayor, paying off the police, stuff like that. |
| | M | | Oh Belgium! He’s going to kill me! |
| | J: | | Don’t be stupid. He might pay someone to kill you, but he would never do it himself. |
| | M | | OH…BRICKING…BELGIUM!! |
| | P | | OH…BRICKING…BELGIUM!! |
| | J: | | CALM DOWN, EVERYONE! |
At that point I had to bail. Sun was coming up and I was feeling sort of disintegratey. Came back here to the lean-to and got under a big pile of cats. Am thinking again that I should get out of town. But I’m not looking forward to leaving these cats behind. And where am I going to go this time? Let’s see, names of towns, names of towns…can’t seem to remember any. SIGH. Will sleep on it and see what tomorrow brings.
Day 11
Dreamed that I was trapped under a big, heavy bed. Ugh!! All these dust bunnies were swarming around me, growing bigger and bigger, showing their fangs and rolling their red eyes. I kept barely squirming away from them before they could bite my face. The worst part was that I couldn’t really lift my head or arms or legs, so it was almost like being squashed into two dimensions, and it was super spooky. Then I noticed my feet were tingling as if I were getting electric shocks. I thought maybe I could electrocute some of the dust bunnies, so I kicked off my shoes and used my toes to feel around. I found some bare wires, wrapped my toes around them, and took a deep breath as I got ready for a big shock…But when I brought the wires together, all that happened was that the bed lifted up and let me go, and all the bunnies turned back into dust again.
Later
So it’s St. Clare’s Day today. I wouldn’t have known except I came into the El Dungeon and EVERYONE (except me and Raven) was
on the phone. It’s normally not like that in here. But people weren’t having long conversations, either; they were dialing, leaving messages, hanging up, dialing.
| | M | | Flathering bogyarks, what happened? |
| | R | | Huuuhhh? |
| | M | | Why’s everyone on the phone? Did the White House blow up or something? |
| | R: | | Uhhhhh…Iono? |
| | M | | GAH. [Turning to HamHawk.] Why’s everyone on the phone? What happened? |
| | H | | Hang on, I’m leaving voicemail. Hi, Mom. Just calling to wish you a happy St. Clare’s Day. And to tell you that I love you. And to thank you for all you do for me. OK, uh, see you tonight at dinner. [Hanging up.] Nothing happened. It’s St. Clare’s Day. |
| | M | | So, what, Clare is the patron saint of voicemail? |
| | HH: | | She’s the patron saint of phones, so no one is supposed to answer calls all day. Out of respect for her blessed sainthood. |
| | M | | But you’re all on the phone. |
| | HH: | | Not answering calls, though. Just leaving voicemail. |
Like that makes any sense. But I’ll tell you what St. Clare’s Day accomplishes. Everyone is on the phone ALL DAY calling everyone in their address book, leaving them affectionate voicemails, listening to their own voicemails, sending reply voicemails to people they are glad to hear from, leaving even longer followup voicemails in reply to THOSE replies, and, in short, using the phone WAY MORE than any of them do on a normal day. Way to mess up a good idea.
Later
It’s been a pretty grim day so far. Can’t imagine what could have caused that. Maybe spending my day watching everyone else leave affectionate voicemails for their loved ones. How come no one has reported me missing? Do I really believe Raven killed my mother? WHERE ARE MY PEOPLE? Cannot stop wondering if I will ever remember my name or see my home again. Am trying to stay positive.
Am trying to talk myself out of hopping a random bus out of Blackrock.
Trying reeeeeeeeally hard.
Top 13 things in Blackrock:
- Buses out of Blackrock.
- Picture of imaginary black rock in all the official signage.
- Police log in daily paper full of comedy. Today there was only one entry: “Homeowner in the 200 block of Coal
Ave. reported someone had entered his home and stolen a 5-gallon glass jug full of coins. The only other thing missing was a swig of whiskey.” I’m not kidding. - Sandwiches at the El Dungeon very tasty.
- Police are easily bought off.
- Local cats. Excellent!!!!
- Lax security at auto impound lot.
- Wastelands always visible in the distance.
- Decent stars at night despite all the bright streetlamps.
- Great Dumpster pickings.
- School’s…out…forever! (For me, anyway.)
- Plenty of unused back alleys for slinking around in.
- That cozy, private, incredibly well-designed lean-to behind the El Dungeon, and that cool girl who lives in it.
Later
!!!!!!HAVE FOUND OUT MY TRUE IDENTITY!!!!!!
Must breathe. Breeeeeeeathe.
Will start from the beginning.
Had been doing some spying on Curls, who was spending the evening sitting alone at his table, trying to look very busy with voicemail, and instead looking very foolish. It seemed to me like he was only pretending to celebrate St. Clare’s Day like a local. I decided to go harass him a little.
| | M | | You aren’t from around here, are you, boy? |
| | C | | Chaaa, you know I’m not. Do you mind? I’m leaving voicemail. |
| | M | | [Sitting down at his table.] How would I know that? C: Hi, Ümlaut, it’s me, Ripper. Hope you’re, uh, having a great St. Clare’s Day. I actually don’t know if you celebrate St. Clare’s Day or not. But if you do, Happy St. Clare’s Day. Fffffwwwwhhhh. I’ll, uh, see you later. [Hanging up.] You know, you’re supposed to call everyone in your address book that you want to stay in your address book; otherwise they get deleted. |
| | M | | Why do they get deleted? |
| | C: | | Oh, it’s just town policy. To…save electricity. |
| | M | | Do you actually believe all that? |
| | C: | | [Looking angry, then spiteful.] Do you ALWAYS have to act like you’re smarter than me, Molly? [And then he kind of mentally bit his tongue. But he saw he had no chance of a coverup, so he braved it out and gave me a “What are you gonna do about it?” look.] |
| | M | | [Thinking fast. Pretending to know what he was talking about in hopes of getting further information.] Oh, so you think it’s OK to call me Molly now? C: [Looking chastised.] Sorry to blow your cover, |
| | M | | [Keeping a disinterested face.] I’ve lost my phone. [Long pauses as I fought back hysterical laughter.] That’s why. I haven’t left you. A St. Clare’s voicemail. |
| | C: | | [Long questioning stare.] Man, you are in DEEP this time, Molly. Are you…feeling OK? |
| | M | | [BRITTLING FAVVWARX, he knows who I am and my name is Molly he knows me HE KNOWS ME.] [Laughing casually.] Well, you know, I have this pesky amnesia. |
| | C: | | [Rolling his eyes. Making quotey fingers.] Oh, right, the “amnesia.” |
| | M | | [Giving him my notebook, open to a blank page.] Just do me a favor and write down my parents’ names and address, OK? |
| | C: | | Huh? I don’t know your parents. MM: No time for that; give me your phone. What’s my last name again? |
| | C: | | [Looking afraid, very afraid.] Merriweather. |
| | MM: | | [Dialing information, then City Hall; paging Schneider; requesting a meeting RIGHT AWAY so I can GO HOME!!!!!! Then handing Curls his phone again.] Good thing City Hall is still answering the phone. So, refresh my memory, Curls. Where’d we meet, again? |
| | C: | | [Looking aghast.] Uh, Toad Suck, Arkansas? Four years ago? |
| | MM: | | Man, so, we’re, like, friends? |
| | C: | | Um, yes? You’re the one who gave me my nickname. |
| | MM: | | Yeah…Curls. Um, I know that. |
| | C: | | RIPPER. |
| | MM: | | Oh, right, man, Ripper, listen, I gotta catch you later, gotta meet someone…Thanks for letting me use your phone… |
