Chapter 11: The Purple Porcupine Strikes Again!

“No phone calls yet, Mrs. Redford?”

“None!”  Valerie’s mom sat on a couch in her living room, tissues from a now-mostly-empty-Kleenex box scattered at her feet.  Next to her on the table sat a telephone, caller ID just waiting for a ransom call that would never come.  Down the hall, crime scene tape bordered Valerie’s door, and three police officers were going over the room with a fine-toothed comb.

There was a knock at the door.  “Stay here, Mrs. Redford—I’ll get it.”  The officer in the living room went to the door, opening it up only to see an all-too-familiar face.  “Good morning, chief.”

“Bah.”  The chief stepped inside, wiping his feet stiffly on the mat in front of the door.  “Which way’s the girl’s room?”

“Right down that hallway,” said the officer.  “Evans, Porter, and Lauderdale are in there right now.”

Chief Morris had been a cop in Wichita for twenty years.  When Blackwell started looking for a chief, he’d been thrilled to come take the new assignment.  A nice, quiet town meant Morris could draw a great salary for just sitting around his office, making sure all his officers were doing their work.  Things had been peaceful, alright, until a few months ago.  Now, Morris was beginning to realize just how much he missed the luxuries of sleeping in, napping at work, taking two hours to eat lunch, etc., etc.

“Porter,” he said, opening the door.  “What you got so far?”

“Plenty,” said Porter.  “It’s kidnapping, that’s for sure.  Someone ransacked this room.  The toys are all out of the toy chest, clothes are scattered everywhere, and the sheets have been yanked off the bed.  It looks like someone was looking for something…”

“Porter.”  The chief’s face was unsmiling.  “Are you sure the girl wasn’t just messy?”

“Checked with her mother already,” Porter beamed back.  “Valerie Redford cleaned her room every Monday.  When did she disappear?  Sometime Monday night/Tuesday morning.  No, someone’s gone through the room.”

Porter shrugged, surveying the room.  “Any signs of forced entry?”

“The screen was off the window,” said Porter, “so the girl must have left that way.  There weren’t any marks on the window, but Mrs. Redford says they never lock them.  All the kidnapper had to do was remove the screen.”

“If there was a kidnapper,” said Chief Morris.  “Personally, all the information you’ve uncovered so far, Porter, seems to point more towards a runaway then an actual…what’s that?”

“That?” Porter tried to follow the chief’s gaze.  “That’s the bed.”

The chief looked disdainfully at Porter, then wandered over to the bed.  Putting on gloves, he picked up a small piece of paper from the end of the bed.  Nothing was written on this piece of paper, but there was a sticker on it.  A purple porcupine sticker.

“Lauderdale!” yelled the chief.  “Find out if Valerie Redford owned any purple porcupine stickers.”

“Any what?!”

“Purple porcupine stickers.  Don’t ask questions; just do as you’re told!”  The chief forgot that he’d just told Lauderdale to ask questions, so interested was he in the sticker.

He could already guess what the answer was going to be before Lauderdale came back to the room.

“Mrs. Redford doesn’t remember any—”

“Of course she doesn’t,” said the chief.  “Porter.  Was that sticker on the bed when you came in here?”

“Yes, it was,” said Porter.  “I assumed she was just doing a craft project—”

“Not on your life,” said the chief.  “No stickers, glue, scissors, pencils—if she did one and cleaned everything up, this wouldn’t have been the only object lying on her bed.  No, this reminds me of a case I worked in Wichita once.  We had this crook who’d always leave a pinecone after him.  To this man, crime was an art.  The pinecone was his trademark, his artist’s signature on his job.  That’s what this is.”

The chief held the paper up to the light, staring grimly at the little purple rodent smiling back at him.  “The Purple Porcupine’s arrived in Blackwell,” he said, “and until we catch him, we’ll have a crime spree on our hands.”

As if they didn’t already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack Richards sat sullenly in his office, in the middle of the worst mood he’d been in since the club had started.  His lunch, Chinese from a delivery place, lay untouched on his desk before him.  All his attention was focused on the list in his desk drawer; more specifically, one of the names on page 3.

He looked up impatiently as Hardaway wandered in carelessly.

“Hey, boss, I got to hand it to you,” Hardaway told Richards.  “I heard the news from at lunch.  That was a real slick job you pulled last night—”

“I WASN’T RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT KIDNAPPING!!!!” Richards bellowed.

“Calm down, calm down, it’s nothing to get excited about,” said Hardaway.  “I wouldn’t have minded helping you, but if you didn’t want—”

“Listen, you dolt!” said Richards.  “I got up this morning and put on the police radio, and what are they talking about?  Nothing about our neat little art project on the back of City Hall last night.  Nooooo…they’re wondering what’s happened to my insurance policy on Jimmy Redford.  And so am I!”

“You mean—”

“I don’t have the faintest idea where that girl is!  Someone else took her.  The big question is, did they grab her for ransom, or do they want to split up my club?”

“What do you mean?” Hardaway asked.

“The police say the kidnapper left a trademark.  Someone called the Purple Porcupine or something like that.  It’s like they wanted someone to know who was responsible.  Who else besides me and Valerie’s family would care what happened to that girl?”

“I see,” said Hardaway.  “You think—”

“We’ve got to watch Jimmy carefully,” said Richards.  “Keep him in the dark about what really happened.  And if this Purple Porcupine tries to get him to sabotage our club, we may find it necessary to terminate him.”

“So that’s the pitch,” said Hardaway.  “Won’t be any harder for me than the sister would’ve been.  You can count on my full cooperation.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about, Hardaway.  It’s that Purple Porcupine.  I wonder just what scheme he’s got up his sleeve…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to her word, Auburn dropped by the Larkin Hotel around 4:00 in the afternoon, just to see how Valerie was getting along.  She was in great spirits, having loads of fun with the toys.  Auburn also saw that one of the Oreo packages was already half-empty.  Smiling, she showed Valerie how to use the microwave, leaving her young ward with a nourishing meal of chicken tenders, mashed potatoes, and green beans before leaving for the night.

When midnight rolled around, however, the window of the little house on 8^th Street popped open again, as Auburn slipped out for her second mission.

The first success had her feeling confident.  She knew she’d have to watch out for the police, but she also knew that the police were still focused on the Redford “kidnapping.”  They had no idea that Valerie’s disappearance was only the first in what would be a spree.

Carefully, Auburn slipped through the darkened streets.  She knew full well that if she was caught before reaching the McPherson residence, the police would just send her home, without suspecting that this might be the person they were looking for.  The thought brought a smile to Auburn’s face.

She’d considered bringing Valerie along to help convince Allie, but she’d decided against it.  Too dangerous.  If anyone saw Valerie out, Auburn’s scheme could be ruined before it had a chance to really get going.  She’d have to hope Allie would be as easy as Valerie had been.

The McPherson residence was a little bigger, a blue house with four tapered posts holding up the roof over the porch on front.  There was a second story, but it was a little one, and Auburn knew from Richards’s list that Allie’s room would also be in the back, only on the other side of the house.

She couldn’t help but think, as she slunk through the backyard to the residence, that her friend Brittany lay somewhere inside, sleeping.  If Brittany only knew what was about to happen—well, if she knew the full story, she’d thank Auburn for getting her out of trouble.  If she only knew that her sister was about to disappear, with no explanation except a porcupine sticker—

A scream shattered the stillness of the night!

Auburn stopped in terror.  She hadn’t even tapped on the window yet!

The scream came again, even more shrill this time!

Auburn looked up, at the large tree frowning over her head.  Two big eyes blinked down at her.  A screech owl.

“Shh!” Auburn hissed, as if the screech owl could understand what she was saying.  “Go away, you stupid bird.”

Picking up a rock (a small one—she didn’t want to hurt the thing!) she flung it at the tree.  It missed the bird, but it scared the owl into flight, and the noisy avian drifted off to another tree where it could sit undisturbed.  Auburn watched it go and let out a deep breath.

Then, she continued over to the window.  The McPhersons, she saw, had recently installed new window screens, making this one harder to pry off.  It wasn’t impossible, though, particularly with the aid of Auburn’s pocketknife.  Once she had it, she tapped on the window, wondering just what the result would be.

This time, there was no need for her to tap, the blinds went up instantly…revealing Allie McPherson.  She stared inquisitively at the figure outside and wasted no time opening the window.  “Who are you?” she asked.

“My name’s Auburn Reynolds.  I’m a friend of your sister’s.”

“Oh.  Well, she’s sleeping right now, but if you come back tomorrow—”

“No, I’m here to see you,” Auburn said.  “You see, I know where Valerie is.”

“You do?!” said Allie.  “Come on in, but don’t try to kidnap me, or I’ll scream!”

Auburn couldn’t help laughing (softly).  “Fair enough,” she said, “but keep your voice down.  What I’ve got to say is just between you and me.”

Quickly, she told Allie about Richards, and the club, and how Valerie’s name had been on the list.  “If she’d stuck around,” Auburn said, “Jimmy would be forced to keep committing crimes.”  Then, she told Allie that she too was on the list.  Allie’s face turned white, and Auburn could see tears emerging at the corners of her eyes.

“I know it’s awful,” Auburn said.  “That’s why Valerie went into hiding.  So her brother wouldn’t have to keep doing what Richards told him.  Brittany doesn’t want to take his orders either, but she’s afraid for you.  So long as you stay here, she doesn’t feel like there’s anything she can do about it.”

And sure enough, when Auburn told her that Valerie was safe, and that she could go hide out at the same place, Allie was only too happy to go.

Before they left, of course, Auburn dropped another purple porcupine sticker in the same place as the one she’d put down the day before.

Chapter 10: Public Enemy Number One Makes Her Debut

Midnight in Blackwell, Oklahoma.  A clock in a church steeple tolled the hour, the peals of its bell ringing mournfully over the land.  A screech owl yelled defiantly, its protests falling on ears made deaf by slumber.  Clouds kept the night from being too chilly, but they blocked out all the moonlight, leaving the area under each burned-out streetlight pitch black.  A horn honked in the distance, from a freight train that wouldn’t stop as it went through town.

All was quiet on 8^th Street.  This had been the case since an hour before, when Mr. and Mrs. Hill had returned unexpectedly from a trip and found a raucous party being thrown at their house by their youngest son, a twenty-one-year-old college drop out with way too much time on his hands.  He was now in bed, as were most of his friends.  Everyone had gone back home, knowing that at nine tomorrow, they’d be summoned back to clean up the mess.  Once Wayne Hill had gone to bed, the neighbors had too—now, everyone on 8^th Street was asleep.

Except for one person.  A girl named Auburn Reynolds.

Her window opened seamlessly, as the twelfth toll from the church clock faded into the distance.  One thin leg popped out, then another, then the rest of Auburn herself.  Dressed in black, she carried nothing except a flashlight and a few miscellaneous items in her pocket.

She said nothing, but a single thought was running through her mind over and over again.  “1302 N. A Street.  1302 N. A Street.  1302 N. A Street.”

That was Jimmy Redford’s address.  A Street wasn’t too far away, probably the reason Jimmy had been the one spreading the word on her street about the club meetings.  The night was still, and Auburn hurried through the dark streets, determined to carry out her plan as quickly as possible.

She tried not to think about how crazy her idea was.  No one had ever tried anything like this before.  No one could be capable of pulling off such a scheme.  The idea that a twelve-year-old girl could manage something like this—too preposterous to be taken seriously.

And yet, its ridiculousness might be just the thing that would make it succeed.

Auburn thought about Richards as she raced through the dark streets.  She wondered what he spent his nights doing.  Was he at home, curled up in bed, dreaming up more evil schemes for his club to commit?  Was he awake, watching detective programs on TV and laughing about how much better he was than all the criminals on those shows?  Or, was he too roaming the streets, out to make sure no one interfered with his plan—

That one was unlikely.  Possible, but unlikely.  Auburn’s first strike would be easy.  It’d be unexpected, and no one would start looking for her until tomorrow, if everything went as planned.  Even then, they’d be looking for someone a little older.  Auburn knew full well she was hard to find.

Though she was hurrying, the sign for A Street appeared sooner than she would have liked.  It loomed out of the blackness, pointing the way down a narrow thoroughfare, flanked on both sides by small houses.  Trembling, Auburn started down the street, her eyes noting the numbers on the sides of mailboxes.

1300…1302!  The house was the second one on the right.  It was only one story tall, a white siding house set a good ways back from the road with a crumbling cement sidewalk leading to the street.  Two cars occupied its gravel driveway, and no lights came from inside.  The residents had obviously gone to sleep.

As soon as she started up the cement walk, every fear Auburn could think of popped into her head.  What if they have a dog?  What if someone else hears?  What if they’re actually awake?  What if I find the wrong room—but she shoved those fears from her mind and kept going until she was almost at the door.

Then, she turned to the left and worked her way down to the back.

This was one of the houses where Richards proposed to get in through the window, and he’d already taken the trouble to find it.  Valerie Redford’s room was the left window on the back of the house.  Auburn crept around to it and found that the shades were drawn.

Figures, she thought.  There was a window screen too, but it had been there for years, and it was starting to fall off.  Auburn had no difficulty encouraging it the rest of the way.

Then, she took a deep breath.  What happened next depended on what type of a girl Valerie was.  You see, Auburn wasn’t going to abduct her.  She couldn’t bring herself to do that, even if it would make the girl safer.  Auburn was no criminal, and the thought of the terror Jimmy’s sister would face if she was forcibly removed from her home—Auburn couldn’t stand to imagine that, much less experience it.  If Valerie Redford was going to be hidden, it would be voluntarily.

And that’s why, instead of testing to see if the window was open, Auburn rapped gently on the glass.

The noise might awaken the sleeping girl; Auburn hoped it would.  When a minute passed, and nothing happened, Auburn tapped again.  Then, she tapped a third time.  Sitting outside in the dark, no mask to hide her face, Auburn tried to look as natural as possible.

Waiting was difficult on her, though, and when the blinds suddenly jerked up, it was all Auburn could do to keep from screaming—even though the nine-year-old, brown-haired girl on the other side of the window had to be one of the least-menacing individuals Auburn had ever encountered in her life.

The girl’s mouth took on an expression of surprise, and Auburn prayed she wouldn’t scream.  Instead, much to Auburn’s delight, the girl put her hands on the bottom of the windowsill and forced it open.  A blast of cool air from the air-conditioned house hit Auburn as the girl said, “What’s the matter?  Are you lost, or something?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Auburn whispered strongly.  “Are you Valerie?”

“That’s me; who are you?”

“Auburn.  Auburn Reynolds.”  Offering her hand, Auburn said, “I’ve come to tell you something about your brother Jimmy.”

“Can you get him to play with me again?” Valerie whined.  “All he ever does now is sit around his room and mope.  He’s turned into the most boring person in the whole wide world.”

This conversation was going exactly the way Auburn needed it to go.  “There’s a reason for that, Valerie,” she said.  “It’s that club Jimmy’s in, the Brotherhood Club?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not really a community service organization,” Auburn said.  “The leader’s forcing all the kids in it to commit crimes, including your brother.  They don’t want to, but he’s threatening to kill people close to them if they don’t do what he tells them.  In your brother’s case, he’s only doing it because they’ve threatened to kill you if he doesn’t obey.”

Valerie’s face went white as a sheet.  “Oh, no!” she said, her voice starting to rise above a whisper.

“Shh!” Auburn looked left and right, to make sure no one was around.  Then, she continued.

“The only way Jimmy can get free of Richards’s control is if you disappear to a place Richards doesn’t know about.  As long as you’re here, Jimmy’s constantly worried that something will happen to you.  If you go into hiding, Jimmy won’t have to worry, because Richards won’t have any idea where you are.  What do you say?”

“I don’t know,” said Valerie, particularly bright for the age of nine.  “My parents said I shouldn’t trust strangers.”

“So have mine,” said Auburn.  “A minute ago, Valerie, you were talking about how strange Jimmy’s been acting lately.  Now, why else would he be acting like that?  If he wasn’t acting funny, do you think I’d have come here to tell you this?”

Valerie shrugged.  “I guess not.  So, where should I hide?  My closet?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Auburn.  “Grab anything you want to take with you, and the place I’ve got in mind will be a little nicer than just a closet.”

So, Valerie went back in her room and started going through her drawers and toy chest for stuff she thought she needed.  A sensible little girl, she didn’t pack too much.  Most of what she did bring was toys—her favorite stuffed animals, Auburn could tell.  When it looked like her hands were getting full, Auburn stepped in and offered to help carry some of the load.

“Here,” said Valerie, tossing a three-foot-tall stuffed bunny at Auburn.  “Take good care of Mr. Cheesenut.  He’s scared of the dark.”

Auburn wondered whether the yellow color of the bunny had anything to do with his name or not, but she didn’t ask questions.  She merely tapped her foot impatiently as Valerie picked up a couple more toys.

“Alright,” said Valerie.  “Where to now?”

“Out the window,” said Auburn, “and I’ll lead the way.”

As Valerie stepped out the window, Auburn wandered over to the bed.  She stuck her free hand into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, dropping it at the foot of the bed before following the girl out the window.

And so, “Kidnapping #1” went off extremely pleasantly.  Auburn had expected to have to spend all her time keeping her young friend from flying off the handle.  Instead, Valerie skipped along, enjoying being out in the night air.  She prattled on and on with stories about this stuffed animal, and stories about that stuffed one.  She told Auburn about their house, about the attic she was never allowed in, about Jimmy’s room (which she also wasn’t allowed in but routinely visited anyway), about the padlock Mrs. Redford had put on the refrigerator when Mr. Redford went on a diet.  Auburn mainly listened, interjecting every now and then when Valerie asked about her, and what her life was like.  The girls were having a marvelous time, and Valerie had to keep telling Auburn to keep her voice down as they maneuvered their way through the dark streets.

There were cops out, of course, but not very many because not many were usually needed in Blackwell.  Auburn and Valerie stuck to more secluded streets most of the time, and after crossing Highway 11, they didn’t see another lit headlight for the rest of the walk.  A Street wasn’t far from the Larkin Hotel either, and in twenty minutes, the girls stood outside the old structure.  Valerie pointed up at it.

“I’ve always wanted to look around in there,” she said, “but my mom never lets me.”

“Well, consider this your big chance,” said Auburn.  “This is where you’re going to be staying until Richards gets arrested, and wait ‘till you see what’s inside!”

Pushing up the first floor window, Auburn motioned for Valerie to climb through.  She followed Jimmy’s sister in, closing the window behind her.  Then, she put on the flashlight.

Valerie’s face lit up, as she saw dollhouses, rocking horses, and stuffed animals in full view.  She hurried over to a giant dollhouse and opened up the back.  “It’s the biggest, most beautifulest dollhouse I’ve ever seen!” she exclaimed, quiet no longer necessary.

Auburn stood by and watched her run from toy to toy, her eager young eyes going over all the merchandise Toy Mart hadn’t been able to get rid of.  After about ten minutes, she motioned for Valerie to follow her.  Heading over to the double doors, she wandered in and showed Valerie the kitchen.

“There should be plenty of food in here for you and whoever joins you for a while,” Auburn said.  “The refrigerator’s got some stuff too.  Now, for dinner, I’ve got quite a few frozen dinner selections—have you ever used a microwave?”

Valerie shook her head, so Auburn demonstrated how it worked.  “You might not remember,” she said, “so I’ll try to be back tomorrow afternoon to make sure everything’s going alright.  Let me show you where your room is…”

She led Valerie up the staircase to the second floor.  “Pick any of those rooms you want,” she said.  “In fact, you’re welcome to switch as often as you want.  Here’s what’s going to happen.  Everyone in Richards’s club has a family member in jeopardy.  I’m going to hide enough here so that Richards can’t force his members to pull off crimes anymore.  Then, we’ll force him to show his true character and do something that’ll get him arrested.  So, beginning tomorrow night, you’ll probably have company joining you.  Got that?”

“Got it!” said Valerie.

“Fine,” said Auburn.  “Now, while you’re here, whatever you do, don’t go outside.  Not even for a minute!  If Richards ever figures out where you are, your life will be at stake, and your brother will have to go right back to doing what he was doing when Richards arrested him.  It’s very important that you don’t go outside.  Understand?”

“You don’t have to worry,” said Valerie.  “With all the toys in here, why would I want to go outside?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Auburn.  “I hope you don’t have to be here for too long, but it may take a few weeks…”

“I understand.”

“Fine,” said Auburn.  She was just about to go when a thought struck her.  “Valerie, do you know Alice McPherson?”

“Allie?” exclaimed Valerie.  “She’s my best friend!”

“Really?” said Auburn.  “She’s in danger too.  How’d you like it if she came here tomorrow night?”

“Oh boy, oh boy, OH BOY!!!” yelled Valerie.  “That’d be the mostest fun I’d ever had!”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do,” said Auburn.  “Have a nice evening, Valerie.”

Auburn couldn’t help but smile as she walked home.  That had been easy.  Very easy.  It wouldn’t continue to be that easy, as the police beefed up patrol in response to these disappearances.  For tonight, though, Auburn had pulled off her first ever kidnapping.  Without a hitch.

And tomorrow, Brittany, she thought to herself, I’ll protect your little sister for you.  You won’t have to do Richards’s dirty work much longer.

Getting home, Auburn went straight back to bed, oblivious of the firestorm that would break out tomorrow.

Chapter 9: Preliminary Arrangements

That evening, when Auburn went to bed, she slept soundly.  Very soundly, indeed.  Sure, she’d been through a harrowing experience at the old movie theater, and she’d had to read one of the most horrifying lists of all time, but that list was now safely in her possession.  Better yet, she had a two-phase strategy that would set things up perfectly for the start of her scheme.

Phase one came early next morning, after Mrs. Reynolds left for work.  Auburn, who’d been reading in her room since breakfast, waited the usual ten minutes to make sure Mrs. Reynolds didn’t forget anything.  Not that she was in the habit of forgetting stuff, just that…well, for lack of a better way to put it, she was in the habit of forgetting stuff.

She hadn’t forgotten anything today, though, and when the ten minutes were up, Auburn went into action.  She slipped into the office room of the house and opened up the filing cabinet, looking through it until she found exactly the folder she was looking for.  Pulling out a piece of paper, she made her way over to the telephone and dialed a number off the sheet.

“Thank you for calling OG&E.  Please tell us the reason for your call, so that we may better assist you.  To pay your bill, press—”

“Operator!” Auburn wasn’t going to waste her time with any recorded messages.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite catch that.  Did you say—”

“OPERATOR!!!” bellowed Auburn into the phone. Why can’t these things ever get it right the first time?

“Thank you.  I’m transferring your call…”

[Thirty minutes later.  Yes, thirty.  Nothing’s ever that easy over the phone.]

“Thank you for calling OG&E; this is Carl.  How can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m calling about the Larkin Hotel building in Blackwell.  I believe your company did the electricity for that.”

“I can find out for you,” Carl said.  “Do you have the address?”

“Yes, it’s 201 South—no, make that 201 North Main Street.  Blackwell, Oklahoma.”

“I’ll check on that for you right away.”  Since Auburn had gotten a real person, “right away” meant right away, and Carl was back on the line in three seconds.  “Yes, we did supply power to that building, but it’s been off for over ten years—”

“I’m well aware of that,” said Auburn.  “I’m Auburn Reynolds, assistant manager for the property, and I’d like to have it turned back on as soon as possible.”

“We can do that for you,” said Carl.  “There’ll be a service charge—”

“That’s perfectly fine,” said Auburn.  “Do you all do automatic transfer?”

“We do indeed,” said Carl.  “What’s the name of your bank?”

We can’t print the next part of the conversation, for obvious reasons.  This might be a good time, however, to tell readers about Auburn’s financial situation.  You see, Auburn was loaded.  Quite literally loaded.  Her parents, while well-put financially, could hardly be considered wealthy.  However, Auburn was extremely good at managing her money.  Normally, she never spent more than twenty percent of what she took in.  Both her parents gave her an allowance, based on how many chores she got done at home.  Auburn was practically a robot when it came to these, and she maxed out her salary nine out of ten weeks.  Her grandmother on her mother’s side sent her fifty dollars a month; this, Auburn always put straight in her bank account, without spending a cent.  A few years back, she’d spent a couple summers going door to door selling lemonade, earning more than all the kids that stuck with the traditional cardboard stand setup.  She had a few other (honest) schemes too.  To sum it all up, very few twelve-year-olds anywhere in the world had as much money as Auburn Reynolds.

This meant that Auburn could easily afford the bill to power the old hotel for a few months, and that was just what she was going to do for however long it took to get Richards out of business.  She and Carl hashed out the payment details; once this had been taken care of, Carl said:

“We should have that on for you by tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?  There isn’t a chance you could do it later today?”

“We might, but I can’t promise that.”

“I see,” said Auburn, frowning.  “Well, thanks a lot!”

“You’re welcome!” said Carl.  “Have a nice weekend!”

“Oh, I shall!” said Auburn, hanging up.  “Now for the water company,” she muttered, flipping through the phonebook.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Saturday night, Blackwell’s Kiwanis Club threw its annual Dinner Gala at 6:00.  Everybody who was anybody in Blackwell (which didn’t automatically mean that they were anybody elsewhere, but at least they had local fame) was in attendance.  Including Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds.

“Don’t scratch at your collar!”

“Honey, shh!”  Mr. Reynolds looked around the crowded banquet room self-consciously.  “They’ll think you brought a dog inside if you go on that way.”

“I know you’re not used to ties, dear, but this is a formal occasion—”

“Oh, I’ll be alright.  Once I get out of here and buy a clip-on tie, that is—”

“Janna!  So good to see you!”

“Why, Mary Lou!  I thought you and your husband were going hiking this weekend.”

Mrs. Reynolds’s friend, a tall lady five years her senior, came over and embraced her.  “I thought so too, darling, but my blisters had other ideas.  Ooh!  Who’s this handsome gentleman you’ve got with you?”

“Oh, that’s my husband.  Ron, I want you to meet my friend Mary Lou.”

“Hi,” said Mr. Reynolds, somewhat stiffly.  Not because he was being unfriendly, but because he had absolutely no notion on how to act at formal events like this.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs.—”

“McPherson.  Mary Lou McPherson,” said the lady.  “Janna’s told me so much about you—all good stuff, of course.”

“I told her how you were named Welder of the Month in Gardner, three years ago.”

“Yes, well, that was sheer coincidence, really.  I happened to be a welder, and they happened to have a reward for one.  If they hadn’t picked me, it would have been someone else—”

“Why, Mr. Reynolds, you have such a wonderful way of putting things.  I’d like you to meet my husband.  Jeffrey, Jeffrey, JEFFREY!”

“I’m right here, darling!”  Mrs. McPherson jumped as she realized her husband was to her left.  “That was Mr. Grudzielanek you were calling to, I believe.”

“Oh!” Mrs. McPherson was taken aback.  “I hope he didn’t hear.”

“He’s always eager for someone to talk to, so if he had, I wouldn’t have worried.  I believe you wanted to introduce me to someone?”

“Hi,” said Mr. Reynolds.

“Well, howdy, pardner,” said McPherson, stretching out his hand.  “I’m Jeffrey McPherson, Jr., but folks usually just call me Jeff.”

“Alright, Jeff.”  Now, at least, Mr. Reynolds had a talking point.  “You’ve got a bit of an accent there.  Are you from Texas?”

“Born, bred, and raised in the Lone Star state—banished here because there’s more oil in this town than there was in all of Sterling City.  It’s close enough that I go back and visit once in a while.”

“Texas is a nice state,” agreed Mr. Reynolds, showing that he was also from out of state.  “You know, I get the funny feeling that we’ve met before.”

“Maybe we have,” said McPherson, intrigued.  “You work out at the oil fields?”

“No, I’m a welder,” said Reynolds.  “It wouldn’t have been there.”

“Ever been to Sterling City?  I’ve only been here for seven years—”

“No, I haven’t been to that part of Texas—”

“Where in town do you live?”  When Reynolds gave his address, McPherson’s face lit up.  “I think I know what it is.  Ever stop by that Conoco?”

Reynolds nodded.

“You’ve probably seen my oldest, Brittany.  She’s the cashier there for the summer, works most days each week.”

“Brittany takes after her dad a lot more than she takes after me,” Mrs. McPherson commented.

“Feature-wise, she does, but all the attractiveness comes from you, dear!  I could never look that pretty if I tried.”

Mr. Reynolds laughed.  “Don’t waste your effort.”

“How many children do you have?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.

“Two girls: Brittany and Allie,” Mr. McPherson replied.  “Brittany’s seventeen; Allie’s nine.”

“Ours is in between,” commented Mr. Reynolds.  “She’s twelve.”

“You all have a daughter?” Mrs. McPherson said.  “Why, I never knew—”

“Mr. and Mrs. McPherson!  It’s so good to see you!”

The man who was speaking was more famous than the mayor.  His name was in each issue of the Blackwell Journal-Tribune, but he wasn’t the editor.  His long, thin legs ended in brown dress shoes, neatly polished.  This was the man’s second engagement of the day…earlier, he’d been visiting a nursing home!

“Well, hello, Mr. Richards!  I haven’t seen you in a while!”

“Too long, I know,” Mr. Richards gave a playful frown.  “One of these days, I’m thinking of throwing a dinner for all the parents of club members.  After all, you’re the ones that give these kids good, stable homes to return to when my work is done—”

“Yes, but we can’t give them the outside attention you’re so good at providing,” Mrs. McPherson said.  “Oh, Mr. Richards.  You do know the Reynolds’s, don’t you?”

“Why, no, I don’t believe we’ve ever met.  Are these the—”

“Mr. Richards, this is my friend Janna Reynolds, and her husband Ron.  Ron and Janna, may I present Jack Richards?”

“Hi,” said Mr. Reynolds.

“It’s so wonderful to meet you,” said Mr. Richards.  “I’m trying to get to know everyone in town, but I obviously haven’t succeeded…yet.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t met them before,” said Mrs. McPherson.  “Isn’t your daughter in the club, Janna?”

“Club?  Oh, you mean the Brotherhood—gasp!  You’re that Richards!”

Mr. Richards laughed awkwardly.  “You say that like I’m notorious—”

“No, no, not that—I mean, I see your name all the time in the Tribune!  You’ve done so many wonderful things for this town, out of the goodness of your heart.  From what I hear, you’re an angel, Mr. Richards.”

“I can assure you I’m not that special, Mrs. Reynolds.  I’m just a normal person like yourself trying to do what good I can for the community.  Did Mary Lou just say you had a daughter?”

Mr. Reynolds wanted to slip back into the conversation.  “Auburn.  She’s twelve years old.”

Richards’s face lit up.  “Is she really?  My club would be perfect for her!  Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, let me tell you a bit about it—”

“Oh, no, Mr. Richards, you don’t understand—”

“Tut, tut, tut, let me finish what I’m going to say.  If you’ve read about the club in the paper, Mrs. Richards, you’ve seen the good we’re focused on doing.  We’re rebuilding homes, we’re painting businesses, we’re cleaning up parks—I’ve got the kids doing whatever they can to make Blackwell a better place to live.  Meanwhile, I’m teaching them to be good citizens so when they get home—”

“I know what your club does, Mr. Richards.”  Mrs. Reynolds smiled.  “It sounds wonderful.  Really, it does, but I’m afraid—”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about the cost, Mrs. Richards.  My parents didn’t have a whole lot when I was growing up, and that kept me out of some groups.  I resolved that, if I ever ran something, the same thing wasn’t going to happen to others.  If it’s money you’re worried about—”

“Goodness, it’s not that,” said Mrs. Reynolds.  “I don’t know how much your club costs, but I know we can afford it.  It’s just not the type of thing for Auburn.”

“Mrs. Reynolds, my club is for anyone between the ages of 10 and 18, and when I say anybody, I mean ANYBODY.  If you’re girl’s twelve, she’ll be just the right fit for the club.  She’ll have so many peers her age who can encourage her as she goes about her daily business—”

“I’m sure she’d love it,” Mrs. Reynolds said, in a tone that got Richards to shut up.  “She can’t do it, though.  You see, my daughter’s an invalid.”

“Ohhh!” Richards’s optimism vanished.  “Mrs. Reynolds, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s not that bad,” said Mrs. Reynolds, “but we try to keep her from being outside too often.  We’re afraid, if we don’t take really good care of her, something might happen—”

“Mrs. Reynolds, I understand completely.  In fact, I’d have to say you’re right.  Children have a special place in my heart, and I take my work with them very seriously.  Unfortunately, I’ve never been very good at kids with disabilities.  I don’t have the patience they require, and I don’t know enough about that sort of thing to deal with them.  Even if I did, I’d always be nervous that something would happen to them, the way you are with your daughter.  Mrs. Reynolds, please understand that if I’d known, I never would have been so pushy—”

“It’s alright,” said Mrs. Reynolds.  “You were just doing what you were supposed to do.  Our Auburn can’t join your club, but I’ve been very impressed reading about what you were doing.  Weren’t you all repainting the baseball field last week?”

“You read about our Maxwell Field project?” Richards beamed.  “I didn’t know they’d already published the story.  Yes, and I was very proud of our kids on that one.  Jimmy alerted me to the fact that our field was in a sorry state of disrepair…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Reynolds had a fan in her closet she never used, and the Reynolds’ had a couple fans in their basement in case of water damage…which they also never used.  That only made three, though.  In Oklahoma, in the summer time, in a building without air conditioning, three fans just weren’t going to cut it.

Auburn was pretty certain the Larkin Hotel didn’t have air conditioning.  It had been abandoned too long for that.  In fact, that was probably the reason the third-floor window was open—it must have contained an out-the-window unit at one time.  Getting those, however, was out of the question.  They’d work, but they’d be noticed, and folks would be curious about the building.  Part of its advantage was that it wasn’t noticeable, and Auburn aimed to keep it that way.  Fans would be the best option.

So, scribbling a note on her list, Auburn set out to begin Phase 2.  If she was going to be housing a lot of kids, they were going to need to eat.  Probably, they were going to need to eat a lot.  Auburn needed to stock the hotel with groceries as cheaply as possible, so she scooted on down to the Dollar General.

Once there, she went to work as if she’d won free groceries for a week.  Thirty boxes of cereal—mostly value size.  Fifty bottles of juice, many bottles of Gatorade (varying shapes and sizes).  Soda, too—Cart 1 was filled.

“Could you watch this for me while I fill up another one?”

The clerk didn’t answer, his eyes bugging out at the load.  “I’m starting a restaurant,” Auburn told him, before heading out to fill up another cart.

Eighty boxes of Cheez-Its, Wheat Thins, and Club Crackers.  Thirty bags of Goldfish.  Cart 2 was more than full.

Twenty packages of Oreos and Chips Ahoy.  Fifty bags of Hersheys, Milky Way, Twix.  While spinach might have been healthier, Auburn knew these products stood a much higher chance of getting eaten.

She still needed something for dinner, though.  Auburn knew she couldn’t count on being at the hotel to cook a meal for people every night; she had to have something substantial that wouldn’t spoil.  Something such as a frozen dinner?

No.  Those required microwaves, and some of the kids on that list might never have used one before.

Then again, microwaves weren’t hard to find, and how difficult could it really be to teach someone to use one?

So, Cart 4 contained pretty much every frozen dinner the store had to offer.  As well as five fans.

Auburn tried to act as nonchalant as possible as she pushed the last cart from the back of the store to the register.  That guy at the counter looked like he was about to throw a fit, but she didn’t want anyone else to see her buying all that stuff.  Not that large grocery purchases would be associated with what she was about to do, but Blackwell was a small town, and she didn’t want word of this to work its way around to Richards.  That’s why Auburn moved the cart all the way to the right side of the aisle when she saw two salespeople bent over a shelf on her left.

She needn’t have worried.  The employees, one of whom appeared to be the manager, were much more concerned with something on the shelf.

“Yeah, I don’t know why they sent that, but I’m sure we didn’t order it,” the manager was saying.  “Who’s going to buy 200 purple porcupine stickers?”

“Maybe the CEO of the sticker company has a daughter that likes porcupines.”

“Well, she’s the only one then.  Throw those out.  No one’s ever going to buy—”

“Excuse me, but if you don’t want those, I’ll take them—”

“They’re yours.  Give them to her,” the manager instructed the employee.  I’ve got to get back to work.”

The employee passed the stickers to Auburn, then darted after the manager with another question.  Auburn glanced down at the stickers, then up at the ceiling, then back at the stickers again.  A mischievous grin crept over her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bill was a little larger than you’re probably used to paying at grocery stores.  In fact, if you pay as much as Auburn did at the Dollar General, you probably need to start looking for another place to get your groceries.  The cashier nearly fainted when Auburn swiped her debit card and said, “Put it on my account.”

Once she was outside, though, Auburn faced the problem of getting four carts of stuff to the train station—by herself.  If only she had some friends in town, or if only her parents could help her.  The first was a fantasy; the second, completely out of the question.  It was only a fifteen minute walk from Dollar General to the Larkin Hotel, but four shopping carts made it tougher.

The trickiest part, in fact, came right away.  Doolin Avenue, also known as Oklahoma Highway 11, was the busiest street in town.  Four lanes stretched between Auburn’s carts and the quiet side streets that led down to the old hotel.  The speed limit on this part of the highway was only about 45 miles per hour, but there were too many cars for Auburn to safely get across with all the carts—or, for that matter, with only one of them.

Oh, what to do?  Auburn had all the carts tied together so she could take them all at once, but she had to wait for traffic to stop completely before she could do it.  And that wasn’t going to happen unless something came and blocked the entire street.

Glancing to her left, however, Auburn saw how that might happen.  There was a chance that all traffic would come to a stop for as much time as she needed to get the carts across.  This might even happen soon.  If only she didn’t have to wait long…

HONNNNNNK!

Ah-hah!  That was it!  The Santa Fe railroad ran right by the parking lot for the Dollar General as it crossed Highway 11.  And once whatever was coming down the line came by, all cars would be stopped as they waited for the train to pass.

Eagerly, Auburn waited for the train.  There was no sign of it, however.  Three minutes passed without another sound.  Auburn was losing hope when, suddenly, she heard the horn again, giving the crossing signal (two long blasts, one short, one long).  It was a little louder now, though there was still no sign of the train.

Hurry up, Auburn thought, but then she realized that this was good.  If the train was moving slowly, she could take her time getting the carts across, as opposed to having to bunch them all along—

HOONNNNNK!  It sounded like the train was just a few feet away, but Auburn still couldn’t see it.  She glanced at the crossing and scowled.  Those red lights (Blackwell was too small for gates) still hadn’t turned on.

The train had hit another crossing apparently, and after its last blast, Auburn could just make out the rumble of wheels going down the track.  She pushed the carts as close as was safe to the tracks, then glanced north up the line.  The train still wasn’t in view, but the noise was getting louder.

After what seemed like an hour (but in reality was probably much closer to ten minutes), the train finally pulled into view, and Auburn saw the reason for its slow speed.  It was a row of tank cars from one of the oilfields, pulled by a funny little box-shaped blue engine with yellow trim.  Two smokestacks stuck out on top, and the arch-shaped cab sat at the back of the locomotive.  Behind it was another engine identical to the first, only it didn’t have a cab.  This was the B unit, only used when hooked up to an engine that could be guided.  The rather unusual engine never strayed far from railyards; obviously, its job today was to store the tank cars in the yard to wait for pickup.

Drivers slowed down reluctantly as the lights began to flash; Auburn braced herself.  She’d seen crazy drivers try to outrun trains before, so she waited a couple minutes until the train was completely across the road before making her move.  Tugging as hard as she could, she managed to get the carts rolling across the road.  She tried not to look at the cars, knowing that she must be drawing some weird stares from the waiting drivers.

Once she got across, the job was much easier.  The carts were very heavy, and it was all Auburn could do to keep them moving, but she kept tugging until she reached a side street.  After that, she passed only two cars, the drivers of which took no notice of the girl with the four shopping carts.  Heavily-laden, it took her forty minutes instead of fifteen, but the hotel soon came into sight—

“You there!”

Auburn’s heart leapt into her throat as she came to a dead stop.  She whirled around to see who had spoken.

Behind her, a little mutt was high-tailing it up the street as fast as its shrimpy legs could carry it.  Out on her porch, an old lady was holding a squirt bottle and glaring daggers after the canine.  “Next time I catch you in my flowerbed, I’ll use the shotgun instead!” she yelled after the fleeing pooch.

Turning, she went inside, taking no notice of Auburn, who paused to catch her breath before going on.

Once reaching the hotel, Auburn steered the carts into the alley on its left, working hard to push them over the bumpy brick.  When they were all off the street, she wandered down to the alley door and got to work prying the boards off it.  Most of them were rotten, and the job was more dirty than difficult.  Soon, Auburn had enough of them removed for the door to open.

It was still locked, however, so she went around to the front window and slipped in, just as a car drove down the street.  Auburn watched to make sure it kept going, then she raced to the back staircase, unlocked the door, and forced it open.  Instead of trying to maneuver the carts over the bumpy doorframe, she left them sitting in the alley, unloading just a few bags at a time.

To her delight, the freezer still worked—icicles formed on Auburn’s eyebrows when she opened the door.  She put away all the frozen goods first, then spent the next hour arranging all the other goods on the kitchen counter.  She wandered through the hotel trying lightswitches and was pleased to see that most of the bulbs were functioning.  Poking around the hotel, she plugged in all eight fans and turned them on and off, just to make sure they worked.  One didn’t seem to, but it soon turned out the outlet was faulty—a different spot solved the problem.

Work completed, Auburn wandered out into the street and took a look across at the hotel.  From the outside, nothing had changed—the empty lodging still looked as haunted as ever.  Inside, the building now had electricity, running water, air conditioning, and enough food to last for months.  The hotel was all set to hide any imperiled citizens in Blackwell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mrs. Reynolds was already back from work when Auburn returned, but Auburn had a (false) reputation for late afternoon naps, and she’d left her door closed when she went out.  All she had to do was slip back inside through her window, which she then locked behind her.  She wandered over to the bed and sat down to rest, pleased with her work for that day.

Suddenly, she remembered promising her mom to sort through some CDs.  The movers had hastily thrown them in a box when they were packing up; as a result, the collection was all jumbled.  “Mozart’s 39^th, 40^th, and 41^st Symphonies” lay right next to “Sinatra’s Blues,” stuck under a disc that told “How to Turn Your Thumb Green, as Well as Your Grass.”  The box was on Auburn’s desk, and Auburn sprang up to get to work on the project.

And that’s when she felt it coming on.

The room began to sway before her eyes.  Sunlight coming through the window seemed to grow dimmer, then brighter, then dimmer, then brighter—too rapidly to be caused by clouds.  The floor rocked as if a minor earthquake was going on, and an awful humming started in Auburn’s ears.

Panic swelled up within Auburn, and she whirled around before the sensation could get any worse.  She hadn’t gotten very far from her bed, and she sank down, just managing to grab the post before the room really began to spin.  Auburn tried to shut her eyes and block out the world from her senses.

“Mom!” she screamed.  “MOM!”

Auburn couldn’t hear anything over the humming.  The house wasn’t moving, but it might as well have been, the way Auburn was rolling around on the floor.  Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the bedpost as hard as possible.

“MOM!!!” she yelled.

The door to her room flew open, and Mrs. Reynolds ran in, knowing instantly what was happening.  “Relax,” she said, in a voice as gentle as honey dripping off a honeycomb.  Mrs. Reynolds dropped to the floor too and put her arm around Auburn.  “Everything’s going to be alright.”

“It’s happening again!” Auburn’s eyes remained shut, but her face was white with fright.  “The humming…that awful humming!”

“Try to calm down dear,” Mrs. Reynolds was reassuring.  “Nothing’s going to happen while I’m here.”

Auburn tried opening her eyes.  She’d rolled over, and she saw her mother’s face, but it was spinning like a pinwheel in the wind.  She closed her eyes again, desperate to block out the awful images.

“Make it stop!” she wailed miserably.

“How long has this been going on?” asked Mrs. Reynolds.  “About a minute?  It’s almost up, don’t worry.”

“Oh, oh, oh, OH!”  The humming grew louder in Auburn’s ears, so loud she no longer heard the air conditioner, running at top speed on this blazing hot day.  Just when it seemed like it couldn’t get any worse, the humming ceased.  Just like that.  Auburn opened her eyes, and the spinning diminished, gradually, until she could stare up at her mother’s face without seeing it vibrate back and forth.

“There,” said Mrs. Reynolds.  “You’re better now.”

Auburn was, but she was also sobbing.  “It hadn’t happened for a week-and-a-half,” she said.  “Oh, why does it have to come back now?”

“I don’t know, dear.”  Mrs. Reynolds remained on the floor with her daughter.  “The important thing is, you didn’t get hurt.  You were alright; you’ve always been alright.”

“I know, but it’s terrifying!”  Auburn was still shaking.  “You can’t know what it’s like, seeing everything whirl around and not being able to control yourself.  It’s—it’s—it’s the most frightening thing I’ve ever experienced.”

“It’s over now, though,” said Mrs. Reynolds.  “Try to forget about it, will you?  As long as you’re in this house, you have nothing to worry about.”

Auburn didn’t say anything, just pulled herself onto the bed and remained there, shaking, as her mother left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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