it off the ceiling. He turned it over in his hands, and when he saw what was on the back, a jolt like he had never felt before shot through his body.
On the star was a single word:
HERE!
XVI
Ted opened his eyes and saw that it was almost ten-thirty p.m.—he’d fallen asleep right on top of his chemistry textbook. He walked into the kitchen, pulled a yellow phone book out of a drawer, and found the number for the supermarket.
“Stop to Shop,” said a voice. “Can I help you?”
“I’m calling for Jed, the night manager, please.”
Ted waited a few seconds, and then his old boss’s voice clicked on: “You’ve got Jed, and Jed’s got you.”
“Hey, Jed. This is Ted Merritt. My mom said you called.”
“You bet I did,” said Jed, more than a touch of anger in his voice.
“Er,” said Ted, “what did you want to talk about?”
“What I want to TALK about is the VANDALISM of the meat section. Your former section if I remember correctly.” Ted paused, completely lost.
“There’s something happening in the meat section?” he said. “OH, COME ON,” sneered Jed. “For the last WEEK somebody has been coming here AT NIGHT and ripping apart the meat section. You and I know that you didn’t leave here on the best of terms, and that was
your
section, so it seems pretty clear who the prime suspect should be.”
“Why don’t you ask the current meat guy about what’s going on?”
“I have. The attacks always happen when he’s away from the section. On break, getting supplies out of the back, that kind of thing.”
“Why don’t you just check the security cameras to see who is doing it?”
“We have,” said Jed, suddenly sounding unsure of himself. “One minute everything is normal, and the next, all the packages are sliced open.”
Sliced
.
“And we’re thinking that maybe you’re doing something weird to the cameras.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Well, so far ‘we’ is me, I guess, but I’m sure if I brought up the issue with the other guys—”
“Jed, I’ve never been inside the camera room. I stocked meat, that’s it.”
“You stocked meat, but you’re also
crazy
, and if you’re acting out some kind of sick revenge thing here, I want it
stopped.”
“What packages are being sliced open?”
“Meat packages.”
“But what kind of meat?”
“Bacon.”
With that, Ted hung up the phone. Scurvy wasn’t gone. He had simply relocated.
XVII
The next day, all over the world, something weird was happening. It was hard to define exactly
what
was different. Some people thought that the air didn’t feel the same as it had the day before, while others thought that the sunlight looked odd or that the wind seemed to be blowing in the wrong direction.
In Mongolia, seven-year-old Oochkoo Bat awakened in her drafty room to discover that her best friend, Mandoni—a miniature fire-eating yak—was not sleeping in his normal spot on the closet floor. He was gone. Oochkoo hoped that Mandoni was okay—the yak had been breaking out in green spots for the past week, and though she had tried to hug him and make sure that he was comforted, the yak had still seemed in pain. Not knowing where Mandoni was—or even if her yak was alive—made Oochkoo cry all day.
In Iceland, five-year-old Halldor Gundmondsson pulled open his window blinds to let in the late-summer sunlight, expecting to see his rhinoceros friend, Bjarni, stomping around in his yellow raincoat. The rhinoceros considered himself a fisherman, so Halldor checked the shore when he found the rhinoceros missing. All that was left of the rhino was one of his galoshes, stuck in the crevasse of some volcanic rock.
In the African country of Eritrea, pretty Natsinet Tenolde walked along the dirt streets of her village, searching the topsof houses and the branches of trees for a talking leaf-nosed bat named Gongab. Gongab had been Natsinet’s confidant ever since she had lost her mother to illness, but now Gongab was gone, and
On the star was a single word:
HERE!
XVI
Ted opened his eyes and saw that it was almost ten-thirty p.m.—he’d fallen asleep right on top of his chemistry textbook. He walked into the kitchen, pulled a yellow phone book out of a drawer, and found the number for the supermarket.
“Stop to Shop,” said a voice. “Can I help you?”
“I’m calling for Jed, the night manager, please.”
Ted waited a few seconds, and then his old boss’s voice clicked on: “You’ve got Jed, and Jed’s got you.”
“Hey, Jed. This is Ted Merritt. My mom said you called.”
“You bet I did,” said Jed, more than a touch of anger in his voice.
“Er,” said Ted, “what did you want to talk about?”
“What I want to TALK about is the VANDALISM of the meat section. Your former section if I remember correctly.” Ted paused, completely lost.
“There’s something happening in the meat section?” he said. “OH, COME ON,” sneered Jed. “For the last WEEK somebody has been coming here AT NIGHT and ripping apart the meat section. You and I know that you didn’t leave here on the best of terms, and that was
your
section, so it seems pretty clear who the prime suspect should be.”
“Why don’t you ask the current meat guy about what’s going on?”
“I have. The attacks always happen when he’s away from the section. On break, getting supplies out of the back, that kind of thing.”
“Why don’t you just check the security cameras to see who is doing it?”
“We have,” said Jed, suddenly sounding unsure of himself. “One minute everything is normal, and the next, all the packages are sliced open.”
Sliced
.
“And we’re thinking that maybe you’re doing something weird to the cameras.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Well, so far ‘we’ is me, I guess, but I’m sure if I brought up the issue with the other guys—”
“Jed, I’ve never been inside the camera room. I stocked meat, that’s it.”
“You stocked meat, but you’re also
crazy
, and if you’re acting out some kind of sick revenge thing here, I want it
stopped.”
“What packages are being sliced open?”
“Meat packages.”
“But what kind of meat?”
“Bacon.”
With that, Ted hung up the phone. Scurvy wasn’t gone. He had simply relocated.
XVII
The next day, all over the world, something weird was happening. It was hard to define exactly
what
was different. Some people thought that the air didn’t feel the same as it had the day before, while others thought that the sunlight looked odd or that the wind seemed to be blowing in the wrong direction.
In Mongolia, seven-year-old Oochkoo Bat awakened in her drafty room to discover that her best friend, Mandoni—a miniature fire-eating yak—was not sleeping in his normal spot on the closet floor. He was gone. Oochkoo hoped that Mandoni was okay—the yak had been breaking out in green spots for the past week, and though she had tried to hug him and make sure that he was comforted, the yak had still seemed in pain. Not knowing where Mandoni was—or even if her yak was alive—made Oochkoo cry all day.
In Iceland, five-year-old Halldor Gundmondsson pulled open his window blinds to let in the late-summer sunlight, expecting to see his rhinoceros friend, Bjarni, stomping around in his yellow raincoat. The rhinoceros considered himself a fisherman, so Halldor checked the shore when he found the rhinoceros missing. All that was left of the rhino was one of his galoshes, stuck in the crevasse of some volcanic rock.
In the African country of Eritrea, pretty Natsinet Tenolde walked along the dirt streets of her village, searching the topsof houses and the branches of trees for a talking leaf-nosed bat named Gongab. Gongab had been Natsinet’s confidant ever since she had lost her mother to illness, but now Gongab was gone, and
Similar Books
