Duck Boy (22 page)

Steve stepped towards the flames and yelled into the fire. “Richard Ezra
Bacon, who was born August 19, 1963.” A flame licked the edge of the ocean and
deposited a little box, wrapped for Christmas. Steve picked up the box as he
held his stone with his other hand.

Steve turned with Richard in his hand and touched Aunt Shannon’s hand to the
outside of the box. Her eyes fluttered as if she were about to faint. Then she
looked around the landscape. When she saw the fire behind her she jumped back,
knocking Steve to the ground. She whirled around with a wild look in her eyes.

“Oh my goodness!” she yelled, almost losing her balance. “What are you doing
here, Steve?”

“I was looking for you,” exclaimed Steve, overjoyed at their reunion. He jumped
to his feet and gave her a huge hug.

The ocean behind her began to rock and rage as if something were about to
rise from within its surface. “We’d better move away from here,” Aunt Shannon
stated firmly. “It sounds like it’s waking up.”

She surveyed the landscape around them and her happiness flattened into a
grim determination. She grabbed Steve’s arm. “Now we’re both trapped here,” she
sighed. “They’ll take me apart again. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I can get out of here,” Steve grinned. “My notebook takes me out.”

Aunt Shannon processed Steve’s words carefully. “The dictionary brings you
to this world?”

“Right.”

“And your notebook takes you out of this place?”

“Yes.”

“I never thought of that. Of course!” Aunt Shannon eyes exploded with fire.
The two of them heard a deep growl. The growl was so low that it shook the
ground they were standing on.

“Steve, get out of here,” Aunt Shannon ordered. “I’m stuck here, even though
I have my Benu stone. I can’t leave.” She turned towards Steve. “Thank you for
coming to visit me. I love you.”

“You’re going to get out of here,” Steve exclaimed.

“I can only keep them away for so long, but they will take me to pieces
again.”

“But I have your notebook here, too,” Steve said excitedly. He opened his
backpack again and passed her notebook to her. A look of complete joy spread
from one side of Aunt Shannon’s face to the other. “This will take you to your
house, Aunt Shannon,” Steve explained. Aunt Shannon’s look of joy transformed
to a look of understanding. “You stay at your place, and I’ll come over and
meet you there in an hour or so,” Steve suggested. He passed her notebook and
let her get a good grasp of it.

As soon as she touched it she was enveloped in light, and she disappeared.
Steve checked the ground to be sure she hadn’t left anything behind. Then he
reached into the bag with both hands and grabbed his plaque and the notebook.

Chapter 18

The light whisked him back to his house again. The cool air of the house
felt good on his skin. He bundled himself into his coat, reached into his
pocket, fit his hat and gloves over his head and hands. The house still lay in
ruins, and he hopscotched through the mess to the back door and out the back
alley.

The storm was breaking up. The morning light spilled across the snow. Steve
could make out enough of the surrounding landscape to travel safely.

The bus should be here any minute.

He headed to the main road, slogging though the deep, heaped snow. The road
had been plowed in the night, but there was still a slick surface of snow on
the road. He walked down the bus route in the rut of plowed snow in the middle of
the road. Out of money, Steve walked past the bus stop and aimed instead for a
curve in the road up ahead. He knew the bus would need to slow down at the
curve. He took up a position in front of a parked car, ducking down behind the
front end, and waited.

The cold didn’t hold anything back as he waited. It found all the holes in
his clothing and froze him to the core. Finally, an old bus shunted and slowed
in front of Steve as it lurched around the corner. Steve slipped in behind the
bus and grabbed the rear bumper.

Bumper surfing.

The smell of diesel was thick and filled his nose. But Steve didn’t mind. It
was a cold way to travel, but it was safer than riding on the inside of the
bus. His heart burned bright, fired by his first success.

Steve slipped and skidded over the snowy roads, dragged by the bus. He
transferred to the bumper of another bus in the downtown core and made it most
of the way to Aunt Shannon’s.

He sneaked down the alley behind Lindsay’s house and entered the yard,
peering over her fence towards Aunt Shannon’s house. The house looked clear and
quiet. The patrol car that had been watching the house was gone, the police
tape blown down and woven into the banks of snow.

I won’t have to sneak into the house.

Leaving Lindsay’s yard, he crossed the street and stood on the snow-covered
sidewalk in front of Aunt Shannon’s, scanning the house for any kind of
activity. Aunt Shannon’s pale face appeared in the living room window. She
waved him in.

Steve ran carefully under the police barrier and around the back of the
house. The back door had been lifted from where it lay on the floor and propped
into its frame. He slid the back door away from its resting place, slipped
inside, and wedged it back into the opening as best he could. He turned toward the
wreckage of the kitchen. Aunt Shannon stood at the far entrance to the kitchen,
her eyes red with tears.

Aunt Shannon moved toward him. He ran towards her, avoiding the piles of
debris, and they met and squeezed each other in a fierce hug.

“You’re back!” Steve muttered. “You’re back home!”

“I’m glad to see you, too. What happened to our house, Steve?” Aunt Shannon
asked, then broke into a sob.

Tissue.

He scoured the kitchen wreckage until he located a box of tissues, and
retrieved a couple.

Aunt Shannon surveyed the destruction of the living room, her ruined
furniture, upset bookshelf, and smashed ornaments. “Tissue?” Steve offered. She
nodded and took them from his hand.

The two of them walked into the living room. They set the couch back on its
feet and placed the slashed cushions in their places.

“Have a seat, Aunt Shannon. This is a long story.”

She took a cushion and Steve explained to her all that had happened since
the day she disappeared. He described how Uncle Edward had been kidnapped and
how the police thought it was he, Steve, who had done the kidnapping.

At several points in Steve’s story, Aunt Shannon’s eyes filled with tears.
Her eyes sparked with life when he talked about how he accidentally discovered
a way to get to the other world and then back again.

“Why did you rescue me first, Steve?” Aunt Shannon asked.

Steve sat back for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about what he’d done.
“You’re still upset with your mom, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know. I never even thought of trying her first. Besides, I don’t
know what her Benu stone is.”

“I think we can get her back, Steve,” Aunt Shannon declared. “But what are
we going to do about Lindsay and Uncle Edward?”

“I have a few ideas,” Steve stated. “You guessed right, from the very
beginning.” He paused for a moment. “Remember when you told me that it was
words, that words were the key to alchemy. That completely explains the
dictionary.”

Aunt Shannon nodded. “The notebook, too,” she added.

“Yeah, right. It’s all words, isn’t it? They’re somehow connected to us,”
Steve said thoughtfully.

“In one form or another,” Aunt Shannon added.

“I told you about the day the kidnappers came, right?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Did I mention the ransom note?”

“Right!” exclaimed Aunt Shannon. “Of course. That’s an excellent idea. It
just might work.”

“The only question is how we will get hold of it,” Steve sighed. “That won’t
be easy. Detective Garner is probably still looking for me as we speak. He
tried to shoot me,” he remembered suddenly, his voice rising.

“What?” Aunt Shannon demanded, eyes wide.

“Long story,” Steve answered, waving his hand. “He’s got the ransom note and
he’s not likely to let us see it, considering what happened to the pictures we
took from his file. We’ll never be able to get those back. The kidnappers stole
the pictures, so I haven’t been able to give them back to him.”

“Why did the kidnappers want the pictures?” Aunt Shannon asked with a
puzzled look.

“Lindsay thinks they overhead us discussing them on the phone, and they
probably believed they held some secrets. They were looking for clues about how
your discoveries would work. I mean this discovery is worth a lot of money to
someone, wouldn’t you think?”

“You’re right, of course,” Aunt Shannon said sheepishly. “I get so carried
away with the discovery itself that I forget what it might mean to the wrong
people.”

“It kind of surprised me, too. It’s really thrown a wrench into the whole
holiday.”

“My goodness,” Aunt Shannon exclaimed. “I almost forgot, we only have a half
a week until Christmas. My decorations have been destroyed.”

“Your Halloween decorations are still on the front door,” Steve reminded
her, smiling.

“This feels more like Halloween than Christmas, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a nightmare,” Steve agreed.

“I guess we need to turn Halloween into Christmas before we bother
decorating for it again.”

Steve smiled at Aunt Shannon’s suggestion. “Turn Halloween into Christmas.”
Steve repeated. “What should we do first?”

“Why don’t we get Uncle Edward and Lindsay back where they belong before
Christmas. You’re probably a suspect in Lindsay’s disappearance, too.”

“We need to get a dictionary for you, Aunt Shannon. Unless you want this
huge spare one I have.” He pulled the hefty tome from his backpack. “That way
you’ll be able to get in and out of the other world if you need to. Actually,
I’ll take this one, you take this one.” He placed the huge one back in his
backpack and passed her the pocket dictionary.

“Right.” Aunt Shannon pointed to his backpack. “I think I’ll get a big purse
out of my closet to hold it all. It works well, does it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to call the police station and see if I can talk Larry into
letting us see the ransom note.”

“I’ll get your purse while you call Mr. Garner. Just don’t disappear on me
again,” Steve quipped.

Aunt Shannon rolled her eyes. “I’ll be here when you get back—I promise,”
she said with a grin.

Steve nodded and scooted down the hallway, sliding some of the big piles of
debris out of the way to make a path. Aunt Shannon stood and wove her way to
the phone. She thumbed through the phone book looking for the number and then
dialed.

“Hello, may I speak with Detective Garner, please?” Aunt Shannon asked
pleasantly. A voice on the other end chirped a reply. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear
that. Oh, that’s terrible. Is he at home right now? I’ll try him there, thanks.
Goodbye.”

Steve returned with a cavernous neon-colored purse. He put Richard, her
notebook, and the dictionary in Aunt Shannon’s purse and set it beside her near
the phone.

“Steve, we have a small problem. Larry isn’t working on the police force at
the moment. He’s been suspended.”

“What for?”

“I’m not sure. We need to talk to him, though.” She pulled a phone book out
of a kitchen drawer and returned to the phone. “Let me find his home phone
number.” Her fingers scrambled through the pages. Aunt Shannon dialed the
number and waited for a response.

“Hello, is this Detective Garner?… This is Shannon Pankratz-Bacon calling…
No, no, I’m fine. No, Steve had nothing to do with me disappearing. Wherever
did you get such a story? …I don’t have the time to discuss that right now. I’m
calling because I need your help. Can I drop by and talk with you? What’s your
address? All right, I’ll see you in a half hour or so.” She hung up the phone.
“Let’s get moving.”

The two of them bundled up, double-checked the contents of the backpack and purse,
and hopped into the car. As she started it, she looked quickly at Steve with a
furrowed brow.

“How did my car end up here?” Aunt Shannon asked. “Uncle Edward wouldn’t
have driven it, and you’re too young to drive.”

Steve smiled. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Try me,” she replied.

“Uncle Edward told me to drive it back to your house,” Steve reported. “He
insisted.”

“Really?” Aunt Shannon sounded amazed. “What a wonderful surprise—absolutely
wonderful. That’s so unlike him. My disappearance must have really rattled him.
And my lovely car.” She patted the dashboard tenderly. “You didn’t dent her
either.”

Larry’s house was a half hour away from Aunt Shannon’s place. She drove
carefully over the snowy pavement and parked in front of the detective’s house.
She and Steve walked up to the front door and rang the bell. A tired,
haggard-looking man opened the door wrapped in a wrinkled housecoat. When he
saw Steve, his eyes opened wide with surprise—then narrowed in anger.