Damage Control - ARC by Mary Jeddore Blakney Page B

launches a missile, and the other side launches its own
missile to blow up the first one before it hits anything.”
    “Do you think we have a chance?”
    “We always have a chance, Guin. It’s never
over til it’s over.”
    Brooks grabbed his half-full cup and climbed
down the stairs and back through the window. Guin followed.
    “Either way,” he said, “I don’t think we have
a whole lot to worry about. The war is between the Federal
government and the...whatever their name is.”
    “The Chuzekks?”
    “Yeah, that’s it. It’s a fight between them
and the US government over who gets to put their name on all the
buildings. They’re not interested in any of us. And besides,
they’re smart enough to know that if they do win, it’ll go a lot
bettter for them if they’ve left us normal people alone.”
    “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you
call anyone in this family ‘normal.’”
    Brooks smiled. “Okay, I misspoke. Us
regular—.”
    A buzzing sound startled Brooks, and he
realized it was just his phone vibrating on the sink counter.
    “...people,” he concluded, and picked up the
call. “Hello?”
    “Brooks!” said the caller. “Are you sitting
down?” He didn’t recognize the voice.
    “Yes,” he lied, and looked at his screen to
see who the caller was. It said “Becky Sagamore.” Maybe someone was
using her phone. He put it back up to his ear.
    “...to do, but I just can’t think, you
know?”
    “I’m sorry, who is this?”
    “It’s Becky. Did you hear what I said?”
    “No, I think I missed it, sorry.”
    “Brooks, they took your sister.”
    “Who?”
    “Jade. They took Jade. Liesel is fine.”
    “Who took Jade? What are you talking
about?”

8
the fletcher job

    J ade's aunt Becky
kissed her on the cheek. “Wade was a little terror today. Wouldn't
listen, wouldn't—” She stopped speaking, looked up and glanced
around. “I thought I saw something.” They stood in Becky’s yard,
between their cars on the gravel space that couldn’t quite be
called a driveway. Locals called it a dooryard.
    “We're all on edge now,” Jade answered. She
really didn’t have time for this. She had to drop off a birthday
present for Becky's foster son Wade and go home. She had a phone
call to make, and cell phone service was spotty here.
    She'd checked her voicemail back in Concord
where the signal was good. A man by the name of Fletcher had seen
her ad for translation services and wanted to hire her. That by
itself was good enough news, but what he had said next had made her
forget to breathe for a moment. It was an unusual project, he had
explained. He was looking for someone with "a creative, linguistic
mind, good at finding patterns, because we could be dealing with
any number of languages, or possibly an unknown language." She'd
wanted to call him right back, but the message said, "Call after
six." It was 5:45 now and she still had a ten-minute drive
home.
    “It was probably just—” Jade stopped and
pointed to the overcast sky. “There!” For an instant, she had seen
it too; then it was gone again.
    “Shh.” Becky searched the dull greyness
overhead.
    “All I hear is the wind,” whispered Jade,
glancing around anyway to humor her aunt, “and the brook.”
    “That's just it,” Becky whispered back, her
eyes wide. “We don't have a brook.”
    The sound grew steadily louder. It was like
the rustling swish of a storm-breeze on a summer afternoon, the
buzzing hum of a bumblebee, and the babbling laughter of a shallow,
rocky brook.
    “Chuzekks!” Jade yelled, even though Becky
was right next to her. Both women ran across the lawn toward the
house.
    But running was futile. The alien craft burst
through the clouds and settled onto the lawn between them and the
house. Jade and Becky could do nothing but stand there on the
grass. Two others touched down in the dooryard beyond the cars.
Together the three ships formed a triangle, and Jade and Becky were
surrounded. They