 
### Probable Impossibilities

### by

### Steven Larson

### and

### Margaret Larson

### Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014

by Steven and Margaret Larson

Cover Art Copyright 2014

by Betty Rieffer

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

### Table of Contents

The Story Starts Here

Other Books by Steven and Margaret Larson

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Chapter 1

The mocking laughter grew fainter, but the trees still creeped me out. Their bare limbs swayed and bent toward me like long searching fingers.

Dead and decaying leaves covered what might have once been a path. I stepped over a rotting log, and strangled a scream. A long thin snake slithered into the undergrowth.

Gurgling noises escaped from my throat. I tried to run. Brambles clawed and scraped at my pant legs, but I plowed ahead through the vines and creepers.

I stopped to catch my breath, but my heart continued to pound. The schoolyard was long out of sight, but Doug and Josh were still taunting me. Their pale voices drifted through the trees.

"It's getting dark, Cody. Watch out for ghosts and vampires."

"We wouldn't want to have to tell Nate that his little brother got lost in the woods."

Like I was going to get lost. I knew they wouldn't follow me into these haunted woods even in the daylight, but their nasty voices served as a compass. Follow the voices and it would lead me back to the school fence. But not yet.

"Maybe you'll find your stuffed wookie while you're in there."

"Yeah, maybe that's where it disappeared."

I cringed at the old insult, but refused to respond. Was it my fault they were too dull to have imaginary friends when they were four years old? Besides, that was eight years ago. How long did it take to live down an imaginary friend?

I wasn't leaving these woods until they'd given up and gone home. They could wonder all night what had happened to me. Not that either would lose any sleep worrying about it.

When Doug threw my backpack into the woods, he had laughed like a madman. It didn't take much to amuse him. He thought it was gone forever.

But there it was, dangling over a patch of oozy mud. One strap had caught on a spiky branch. Thick ivy and slimy weeds surged up and around the tree.

Scaling the fence that separated the schoolyard from the shadowy trees had been easy. I thought it would be simple to dash in, grab the bag, and rush back out. But the way was blocked by a twisted mass of thick thorny vines.

My foot had crashed through the mess. Thorns scraped my ankle and snagged my shoelaces. A perfect place for snakes or rats to lie in wait. Amid their laughter I had disentangled myself and started the long way around on this lame excuse for a path.

At least I was out of their sight now. With their short attention span I'd soon be out of their thoughts too. A crisp breeze ruffled my hair making it feel like something was crawling over my scalp. I ruffled my hair to get rid of the sensation, and ducked as something flapped past my face. I stood there, my heart racing and the breeze cooling the sweat on my neck. Something began tapping in the distance. Time to get moving.

I began to search for a way to get to the backpack. My feet twisted awkwardly over the uneven ground. Each step took me farther away from the school's fence and deeper into the forbidden woods.

I jumped from rock to tree root. The tapping noise began again. Could it be some kind of signal? Did Doug and Josh have someone else in the woods waiting for me? Or maybe it was something worse.

There were tales of an ancient burial ground in the woods. None of the kids knew where it was, but on nights when clouds hid the stars, strange shapes were reported to be seen floating through the trees. They had to be ghosts. No flesh and blood could pass through this tangled mass of undergrowth without better footwear. The image of a ghost tramping about in heavy boots made me smile.

I stepped over a tree root, and my foot slipped in the mud. Waving my arms for balance, my hand struck a branch and pain shot through my fingers.

I spun around scanning the shadows. No one there. No one to see my clumsy gyrations. I was alone.

Dry leaves rustled over the ground. A high piercing chirp come from the tree tops and the intermittent tapping began again. No human voices, just my heavy breathing. Dusk was settling over the woods, and all the trees looked the same. I had managed to lose my direction after all.

Somewhere ahead water chattered over rocks. My head cleared. That would put the fence behind me. I headed toward the water, picking my way over the muddy spot. Scrambling onto a rock, I looked down to where a shallow brook rippled over and around a rocky gully.

On the other side a homemade sign hung at a slight angle on a maple tree. NO TRESSPASSING. Whoever had written the sign wasn't a great speller.

On my side of the water a smooth beaten path followed the stream. Finally something was going right in these miserable woods. I decided to take the path, hoping I was heading back toward the school and my bag.

I jumped off the rock and started down the path. Twigs snapped. My steps slowed and I looked around. The path behind me was clear. I forced my gaze across the water.

The smell of rotting vegetation filled my nose. There was no wind, but the top branches in the trees waved as if something heavy were pulling on them. The snapping and popping got louder.

I wanted to run, but it was like being in a nightmare where I couldn't get my feet to move.

A high piercing wail started softly and grew in intensity. My eyes fastened on the swaying branches. They parted. In the treetop a dark furry manlike figure appeared.

Long fur hung down from its arms. It reached over its head gripping a white skull with long horns. Probably some other malformed creature that this thing had been eating.

It jumped. Like a wookie from the dark side, it shot through the air toward me with feet outstretched. It let go of the skull and landed in a crouch at the water's edge. The skull hung suspended in the branches.

The beast stood up and looked right at me. It beat its chest and the mouth on the hairy face opened. My scream mixed with its wail in a sickening discord.

I turned and fled up the path. The wail followed me and faded into a sinister cackle like some exotic bird. There wasn't any splashing, and I hoped that meant it hadn't crossed the stream.

I pounded down the path. Branches whipped my arms and scratched my face. My only thought was to get back to the school and put the fence between that thing and me.

I ducked to avoid a large branch. My foot caught on a tree root and the ground rushed toward me. I landed hard against a rock, and sharp pain stabbed through my leg.

I lay stiff, afraid to move. My ears hurt from straining to hear the approach of the beast. The only sound of life was the crickets. Then in the distance the tapping began again.

My heartbeat slowed to normal. A nasty suspicion crept in and settled in my head. What had I really seen? Could Josh and Doug have set up an elaborate joke? Surely they wouldn't carry the wookie tormenting this far.

I shook off the thought. They didn't have the imagination or the commitment to pull off something like this. They couldn't even remember the coach's signals.

As quietly as possible I got to my feet. My leg hurt, but I could still walk. I flexed my arms. The only damage was a large tear in my jacket sleeve.

Listening for sounds of pursuit, human or beast, I trotted down the path until I came to a split. Which way to go? Through the trees a flash of red waved like a signal flag. A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. It was my backpack.

From this side it was easy to walk up to the tree. As I pulled the pack off the hanging branch, I heard the tapping. High above me a bird clung to the trunk. Undisturbed by my presence it tapped its beak into the bark looking for insects. I laughed. Not a vampire or a ghost, just a woodpecker.

The brambles still prevented me from getting over the fence, so I backtracked to where the path split. Shadows filled the woods and fed my imagination. There was no telling where the new path led. But the idea of going back to the river in the dark made up my mind. Better the unknown than the certainty of creepy. I took the new path.

Brambles lined both sides and hemmed me in. There was no danger of losing my way, but tree roots and stones slowed me down. I stumbled onto a footbridge that crossed a dry gully and almost cried out with relief. The last rays of sunlight reflected off the silver fence.

But the path on the other side of the bridge turned and led back into the woods. In the distance a faint howl sent shivers through me.

Without further hesitation, I swung over the bridge and dropped to the ground below. Focusing on the fence, I jogged along the dusty ravine.

A minute later I came to where a cement culvert ran under the fence. Light from outside the woods showed moss clinging to the curved walls. I crouched down. Avoiding muddy spots I ran through and scrambled up the bank.

The trees were thinner and I could see the school in the distance. It was deserted. Doug and Josh were long gone. I was right about their attention span. I sprinted for home.

* * * * *

The smell of garlic settled over me like a blanket as I entered the house. Dad stood at the kitchen counter leaning over his laptop.

"Cody?" he said without looking up. "You're late. I could use some help with dinner." His fingers tapped rhythmically on the keys like the woodpecker.

"I have to wash up first."

"Use the bathroom downstairs. Your mom is already up and getting ready for work."

I dashed up the stairs to my room and grabbed a change of clothes. The sound of Mom's blowdryer from the bathroom battled with the radio from Nathan's room. Great. My older brother was home tonight instead of in classes. What was the good of having him go to college if he was always home at night?

Peeling off the jacket I crept down to the basement. After cleaning up and changing, I stuffed the dirty clothes and jacket into the washing machine. Once Mom left for work at the hospital I could wash everything and not have to explain being in the woods.

I entered the kitchen. A thin trail of smoke came from the oven. Dad peered at his laptop screen and typed furiously.

"Dad..." I began.

"Don't want to lose the momentum," he said. "How's this."

Jacques heaved himself over the rock shelf and lay panting on the ledge. The late afternoon sun beat down. Sweat drenched his body mixing with the red dirt and making a muddy paste that clung to his arms and face. Dizzy and exhausted he lay where he was, too spent to move into the shade of the cliff wall...

"Dad!" I whipped open the oven and the smell of burning pasta poured out.

Dad whirled around and grabbed a hot pad. With a smooth sweep of his arm he pulled the pan from the oven and placed it on the stovetop. "Just a little sauce bubbled over the edge and burnt. Nothing to worry about. Pop in the bread." He turned back to the laptop.

"Smells interesting," Mom said as she bustled into the room. "Sam, darling, can you set aside your writing career for a moment while we have dinner?"

He turned from the computer with a satisfied grin. "Jacques hasn't eaten for two days and is wilting in the sun with the discovery of a lifetime just out of reach."

"I feel like I haven't eaten in days," Nate said from the doorway. "Something's burning. Are we having leftovers from Jacques last campfire?"

Mom frowned and pointed to a chair. "Sit and be quiet." She turned to me. "Home a little late today?"

Nate smirked and sat forward with anticipation. He didn't use to be such a jerk. Before I had time to wonder what to say, Dad set the food on the table and announced, "I have news."

We all turned to stare at him.

Nate broke the silence. "An advance on the book?"

"Something almost as good." He dished up the lasagna with a flourish. "A promising interview."

"Which application?" Mom asked.

"I believe the proper title is Building Superintendent."

Nate slumped back in his chair and his mouth dropped open. Then he found his voice. "A janitor?"

"A term used by those with limited vocabulary and understanding of the intricacies of the job. I was hoping the higher education you're getting would expand your grasp of the English language and of society in general."

It was my turn to smirk.

Nate pursed his lips. His voice was casual as he asked, "Where is the job at?"

"Valley Middle School."

I choked on the garlic bread. "My school?" I gasped out the words spraying a few crumbs across the table.

"Nate swallowed a large bite of lasagna. "That's convenient. You can drive Cody to school everyday."

I resisted the urge to climb across the table and feed Nate the rest of his lasagna. Not that I would have been successful. He was older, bigger, tougher, and lately meaner.

I turned a pleading look to Mom. She smiled encouragingly. "Walking is good exercise. No need for you to ride to school. The hours probably won't be the same in any case."

"I don't have the job yet," Dad said. "They'll be calling me tomorrow to let me know."

I ate mechanically. The pasta had lost all taste. Back when I was four years old I had a toy wookie. I told everyone it talked to me and protected me, but it was Nate who really stood up for me. I would almost put up with the teasing again if Nate hadn't changed.

But the wookie was old, dull news compared to a real dad, with life and personality, working at my school. This would spread fast. Doug and Josh would find it irresistible. They wouldn't even need imagination.

### Chapter 2

The next morning I fumbled through the closet looking for my jacket. Must have left it in the living room.

Picking up my backpack I brushed off the mud and stopped in mid swipe. I had forgotten to put the clothes in the dryer.

I bounded to the basement and set the dryer running. Twenty minutes till departure. Enough for a quick breakfast.

As I slid into the kitchen, Dad looked up from his laptop. "Oh good. You can listen to the discovery of a lifetime while you eat."

"Huh?" I poured Cheerios, scooping the overflow back into the bowl.

"Jacques," Dad said, "is about to make the discovery that is the whole premise of the story."

"Mummf," I mumbled through my Cheerios."

Taking that as affirmative, he began to read.

Jacques lay sweltering on a remote cliff shelf 4,000 feet above the plain. The image of Jillian's face danced before him. A streak of gray highlighted her once dark hair. Wrinkles spread out from eyes sparkling with mischief. He could almost hear her voice.

"An interesting way to get to the top, Jacques. But you'll need to get back to town if you expect anyone to hear about your success."

A smile crossed his chapped lips, but faded quickly as tiny cuts opened from dryness. Heat waves rose from the cliff wall and the image of his colleague, Edmund, loomed before him.

The annoyingly handsome face leaned forward and taunted. "I never dirty my hands with field work. I leave that for the underclassmen who haven't the skill to write quality documentation."

Jacques' stomach tightened with distaste. He rolled over and inched into the shadows. His outstretched hand fell into something cool and wet. He turned his head and winced as his face scraped on the rock. Trying to focus, he stared at his hand. Water? Here on top of the mesa?

He laughed at the mirage, the rasping sound scraping his throat. He dipped his hand into the shallow pool and raised it to his face. Moisture dripped onto his parched lips.

Not caring now if the water was an illusion, he threw it on his face and ran his fingers over his head. Refreshing coolness trickled down his neck and a light breeze ruffled his wet hair. His breathing became easier. Scooping up handfuls, he gulped the water with abandoned greed.

His body felt light. He was a child floating down the river on an inner tube, the cold water numbing his legs and the hot sun warming his shoulders. Peaceful, he drifted. After long moments the air became cooler. With a shiver he opened his eyes. The last rays of the once searing sun cast a lingering light into his alcove.

He struggled to his feet and steadied himself against the cliff wall. His fingers brushed over faint indentations. Curious, he studied the pattern of engravings carved in the cliff wall. Though badly weathered, he could still make out the ancient script. Loosely translated it read, _The last of the springs of youth that make fertile the plains below_.

Jacques shivered and ran his hand through the hollow where the pool had been. Not a drop of water. Just dry dust.

He began the descent to the plain.

I took my last bite of Cheerios waiting to hear the rest of the story, knowing I would need to comment on the important discovery. The room was silent. I looked up. Dad stared at me, waiting for my reaction. I swallowed hard. Somehow I had missed it.

"Uh, nice poetry on the wall. Sort of cryptic." Dad looked surprised. "Guess you're going to explain it later?" I headed for the door.

Dad frowned and looked down at his laptop screen. "I thought the fountain of youth was obvious."

Great. Dad was on his youth kick again and it had slipped by me. There was no time to cover my mistake now, but I gave it a quick try.

"I like it," I offered. "Can't wait for the next chapter." That was a stupid comment, I thought. I escaped to the basement.

The dryer cycle was not finished, but the jacket felt hot. I hurried out into the crisp morning. The jacket's heat faded quickly. Patches had not thoroughly dried, and they rapidly turned cold in a nasty damp sort of way.

It was a relief to get it off when I got to school. I dropped my backpack to the floor, opened the locker, and stuffed the jacket inside. The torn sleeve faced me. Washing had widened the rip, and stuffing now poked through the frayed edges of the gash.

My backpack slumped against my leg. Looking down I saw a designer shoe just inches away. I raised my eyes in resignation. As I expected, the shoe belonged to Doug.

"Wow, Josh, check out this jacket." He fingered the material and poked at the stuffing. "You were right to be concerned about Cody getting lost in the woods. Looks like he had a run in with something."

"Must have been something with big claws to leave a rip like that," Josh said. "How do you suppose he managed to escape?"

I slammed the locker. To my amusement, Doug jumped and jerked his fingers out of the way. He flushed with anger.

"Did something get out of the burial ground?" Josh taunted.

"Guess you'll have to find out for yourself," I said. "If you have the nerve."

Doug leaned toward me, his eyes dark with contempt. In his best mocking voice he said, "Aren't we a little old for tales of a haunted forest? It doesn't take much nerve for a stroll through the woods."

"Is that so?" A girl with long red hair and a fearless look appeared by my side.

Doug smiled as he honed in on a new victim. "Well, well. If it isn't the Gen, Gen the elven queen," he said.

I started to smile, remembering when we were all five and Gen had worn fairy wings all summer. One glance at her scowling face and the charming memory faded. I ducked my head and made sure there was no trace of a smile when I looked up again.

With a smirk, Josh bowed to Gen and said, "Never fear, Lady Guenivere. We cut through those woods all the time. Neither fairies, nor trolls, nor even ghosts are a terror for us."

Disgust filled me leaving a nasty taste in my mouth. "Well why would two squirrels be..." I began when another voice broke in.

"You're not brave. You're just sneaks."

Gen looked up at a tall skinny kid with a weathered cap. His straight black hair poked out around the strap in the back.

"Elroy," Gen said with a sigh, "let it go."

His voice took on a grating whine. "They don't go through the woods. I know..."

"You don't know anything," Josh said narrowing his eyes. His eyebrows almost met over his nose. It was a sinister look he had been trying to perfect ever since we were in kindergarten. "Stay out of this, Elroy, or you'll find yourself in the woods...alone."

Elroy pushed up his glasses. The lens magnified his eyes making him look startled. "Ha! I'm not afraid of the woods." He jabbed his finger at Josh. "You just pretend to go in. I know where you really go."

Josh's eyebrows moved from antagonistic to anxious and I wondered if Elroy was on to something. A hand fell on my shoulder. Too late, I realized it wasn't Elroy that had changed Josh's expression.

"It isn't like you to be late for class, Cody," Mr. Bertram said.

My heart sank. Not the science teacher. Why did it have to be Bertram? I had worked too hard to make an impression with him. Now these Neanderthals were wrecking any hope of a scientific career.

Gen turned on her heel and marched into literature class. Josh and Doug skirted around Bertram like puppies scampering past a Great Dane.

"It's just lit class," I mumbled.

Mr. Bertram looked down over his large mustache. His voice was quiet. "A necessary discipline even for research professionals. A scientist needs to be educated in myth in order to be able to distinguish between fact and fiction."

He handed me my backpack and walked away. Ms. Kendrick waited in the doorway. Compared to Bertram she was tiny, like a bird next to a rhinoceros. I hurried past her and slipped into my seat.

"Psst."

Gen leaned across the aisle. Her hair slid over her shoulder and brushed the desktop. "Did you really see something in the woods?" Her green eyes sparkled. Before I could answer, the bell rang. A smile trembled on her lips and she said, "We'll talk after school."

Ms. Kendrick started class the same way she always did. She perched on the edge of her desk, smiled sweetly at the class, and recited her opening line. Several of the kids mouthed the words with her. "Let's consider the possibilities."

From there she began her lecture on the ancient tale of Beowulf and his battle with the monster. Then she posed the question. "How much of the mythical might have been real?"

Unfortunately that was our cue to join the discussion. I hadn't even seen the movie. The only good thing was that Josh and Doug knew less about Beowulf than I did.

The day dragged by, but finally the last bell rang. I took my time at the locker. No sense in rushing. Gen was always late for everything. When I finally strolled outside, the buses were already pulling away.

At least I lived close enough to the school that I didn't have to ride the bus. Leaning on the bleachers in what I hoped was a cool stance, I waited for Gen.

It wasn't long before several girls bounced down the steps all giggling and talking at once. It was one mass of incomprehensible girl noise.

Gen separated from the group. Walking backwards toward the bleachers she waved and called to the other girls until she was right in front of me. Then she spun around and almost fell into my arms.

"Whoa!" She teetered and caught her balance.

Another opportunity lost. "Ready?" I asked.

"Ready to hear about your adventure in the woods."

As we walked, I began my story. "Josh threw my backpack into the trees. I had to circle through the woods to retrieve it."

"Did you see any ghosts?" she asked.

"Actually..." I hesitated, wondering how much I should say. "I saw something."

"Really?" She danced a few steps in front of me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"It's all sort of unreal now. I'm not sure what I saw."

She stopped and clamped her lips together. With arms folded she said, "Cody Monroe don't you start acting like Doug and Josh. Did you see something or not?"

"Come on Gen." I pulled on her arm and looked around embarrassed. "Let's not draw attention to ourselves."

She relented, but walked in moody silence. After a long minute she said, "Well?"

I kept my voice quiet. The story sounded phony, but she didn't laugh. As I talked, the whole thing became real again. My voice got louder, but the look of delightful fear and admiration in her eyes spurred me on.

"This ape like thing came zooming through the trees straight at me. It was covered with hair and it gripped an animal skull over its head. I thought it might throw the thing at me. When it landed on the ground it opened its ugly mouth and out came this shrieking howl." I barred my teeth and let out a curdling cry.

She gasped, jolting me back to the present. She breathed out the word solemnly, "Bigfoot."

I took a deep breath. "Let's not jump to conclusions. I didn't say it was Bigfoot."

She nodded and her expression almost mimicked Bertram when he was explaining a scientific theory. "Did you take any pictures?"

I was stunned. "Pictures?"

"Yes, we need proof."

I shook my head. "I didn't think it was a good time for a photo op. The only thing on my mind was running."

She nodded thoughtfully. "That's understandable. It caught you by surprise. But next time we'll be expecting it, and we'll be ready."

My voice cracked. "Next time?" I didn't like where this was leading.

From a side pocket on her backpack she pulled out a small tablet and a tiny pen. "We have to document it." She began making a list. "Camera, flashlight, batteries. Do you think we'll need food to attract it? Was it muddy? How about boots?"

I voiced my objection. "That may not be a good idea..."

"Right. Boots would make it hard to run if we need to. Old tennis shoes will be better."

I tried to picture her in work boots and failed.

"Oh!" She stopped, then ran a few steps to catch up. "You didn't tell me how your jacket got torn." Her voice trembled and she whispered, "Did it catch you?"

"No, it didn't catch me," I said with irritation. "I probably wouldn't be here if it had."

"Then how did you tear your jacket?"

"If you must know, I fell and caught it on a tree limb."

She was silent for a moment. Then she shrugged and started writing again. "Okay, we know we can outrun it. That's important. And we know which side of the stream it lives on."

"We do? How do we know that?"

"Oh, it's highly probable that it's territorial. I don't think it will cross the water."

I was incredulous. There was nothing to stop it from crossing the stream. Were all girls so illogical? She went on asking questions about supplies. I wasn't giving answers, but her list kept growing.

Gen and I had been next door neighbors all our lives and friends every since Gen climbed over the fence to visit when she was three. The two things that had remained consistent through the years were her love of fantasy and her lists. She had been making lists ever since we had learned how to print.

We reached Gen's house first. She stopped outside the gate to her yard. "We'll go tonight right after dinner."

"Go where?" I asked.

She spoke slowly. "To-the-woods. To see Bigfoot." She tore off the bottom half of the page and handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked looking down at the paper.

"Everything we've been talking about." She ran her finger down the page. "Flashlight, old tennis shoes, old clothes, cell phone. It's all right there. I'll bring all the equipment." Her hand trembled slightly and her face was flushed with excitement.

All I could picture was that beast carrying her off through the woods like King Kong while I struggled through the thorny underbrush trying to keep up.

I stuffed the list into my pocket and grasped her arms. Trying to make my voice calm and mature, I said, "We are not going into the woods to hunt Bigfoot."

The light in her eyes faded and a tear threatened to slide out. She didn't answer.

"It's a wild animal. You could get hurt." I had always thought of Gen as bold and tough, but now she looked frail. I was afraid for her. She wasn't convinced. "I probably imagined the whole thing," I said knowing I was letting her down.

She sniffed and her smile was weak. "Okay, let's drop it. I'll see you tomorrow." She turned and ran up the walk. Throwing me a distracted wave she disappeared inside.

I stood there staring at the closed door. She was going to need time to forgive me. I turned away and headed home, my mind trying to work out a plan.

If the creature was nocturnal, we could go during the day on Saturday and possibly never see him. In any case, a daylight encounter would be better than one at night. I'd call her after dinner. My stomach growled as I reached home.

### Chapter 3

The front door clicked shut behind me and I paused in the hall. Italian music flowed from the kitchen. The kind they play on those wine programs on public television while the camera pans over countryside covered with absurdly green grass.

I entered the kitchen and stopped cold. Desiree, Nate's girlfriend, faced me with a wooden spoon in her hand. Our eyes met, and the rest of the room blurred around her.

She stood in front of the stove looking like the cover of one of Mom's romance novels. A red ribbon held her dark hair to one side where it cascaded down the front of her T-shirt. The sleeve on the other side draped down, leaving her tanned shoulder bare.

Raising the spoon to her lips she took a dainty sip of the sauce. "Yummm," she murmured.

A pungent odor, as if something were decaying in the frying pan, snapped the room back into sharp focus.

My nose crinkled in distaste and I blurted out, "What is that smell?"

The smile faded from her face. For a moment she frowned. Then she brightened. "Taste and you will see what real flavor is." She guided the spoon toward me.

"Yuck!" I said, ducking my head. I spun around and found myself face to face with a glowering Nate.

He lowered the camera. "Nice going brat. You just ruined an hour's worth of work on Desiree's project for her video class." His voice softened. "Sorry Des, we'll have to reconstruct it."

She wilted onto a chair. I reached around her and turned off the stove.

"Sorry Des. I didn't know you were filming. Where's Mom and Dad?"

"They went out to celebrate Dad's new job," Nate said. "Desiree had generously offered to make you and me a special dinner. We thought we could use the footage for her clip."

"It's okay Nate," she said. "Let's start on the fantasy piece. We can use what we filmed on the Spice Island cake for this assignment."

"There's cake?" I perked up. "You can film me eating the cake," I offered.

"In your dreams, kid. You can make it up by cleaning the kitchen. Des and I have to reconstruct her film. I'll be home late." He scooped the car keys off the table and left the room.

When Desiree passed me the sweet scent of her perfume drowned out the cooking smell. She leaned over and whispered, "Cake's in the frig. It's coconut."

Des was such a great person. Not just gorgeous, but really cool. I couldn't figure out what she saw in Nate.

It took a while to clean up. Once the trash was out though, my appetite returned. Balancing a bowl of Cheerios and a large chunk of cake, I headed for the living room.

It took another minute to close the blinds and find the remote. Then I settled into the theater sofa facing the mega TV, which covered one wall. Our last big purchase before Dad lost his job.

While wolfing down the cereal, I flipped through the channels. Commercials. A red convertible whipped through the curves on a mountain road. A blonde tossed her silky hair across the screen while proclaiming the wonders of her shampoo. Someone in a vampire outfit danced in front of a costume store. Man, Halloween was just a few weeks away.

I finally landed on a nature show. With the sound of monkeys and jungle birds as a backdrop, I finished the cereal and polished off the cake.

Leaning back I closed my eyes and dozed. Jungle scenes mingled in my head with pictures of the woods. In my muddled thoughts I still searched for my backpack. In the distance a woodpecker tapped at a tree. A light swept across me.

I sat up with a jerk and stared into the huge face of a baboon. Its eyes held me with disdain. It huffed and I scrambled to get away. My foot collided with the coffee table. The couch cushions gave way beneath me and I crashed to the floor.

From the TV screen, the baboon huffed again and ambled away from the camera.

The light shining through the blinds went dark. Car doors slammed. Dad's voice and Mom's laughter snapped me back to reality.

The clock in the screen's corner read 11:50. Frantically I searched for the remote. A key rattled in the front door lock. My fingers pawed under the cushions and closed victoriously around the control. Jabbing the button, the sound cut off and the screen went black.

I tossed the remote to the other end of the sofa and turned to make a dash for it, but the doorway was blocked.

Mom's laughter stopped and her smile faded into the mother look. One eyebrow shot up in an _I dare you to explain_ question mark.

I faked a yawn and stretched. "Wow, I didn't realize it was that late. Must have dozed off."

Dad pointed to the stairs. "Bed. Now."

I squeezed between them and darted to my room. It wasn't until I was in bed pulling the covers up to my chin that I remembered Gen. It was too late to call now. I rolled over and fell asleep with the image of her disappointed eyes haunting my dreams.

### Chapter 4

The next morning I struggled to rise out of bed and get moving. Gen had already left for school when I finally stepped outside. The solitary walk gave me time to reconsider how to redeem myself, but I still didn't have a good plan when I arrived.

It didn't matter. Gen was surrounded by the crowd of giggling girls. She wouldn't even make eye contact. Then I was weaving through the crowd taking a path calculated to avoid Doug and Josh.

Somehow Gen made it in to science class ahead of me and was hunched over her phone as the bell rang. Glancing up she caught sight of me. The hint of a smirk touched her lips. Her eyes slid away and she slipped the phone into her pocket. I took my seat.

Bertram wasted no time in getting into his subject. "What is the probability that pre-Columbian Europeans discovered South America? What facts do we know that would support such a supposition?" We looked at him blankly. He tried again. "If ancient Europeans were there, what evidence did they leave behind?"

"Footprints?" Doug suggested.

"Litter," Josh added.

Elroy snickered. "Take nothing but sketch-eous, leave nothing but footprint-eous."

"Thank you for that attempt at Latin humor, Elroy," Bertram said, "but Josh is correct. A civilization's trash can give us many clues to their origin and lifestyles."

The footprints I was interested in tracing at the moment belonged to Bigfoot. I stole a glance at Gen. Her smile remained, but she refused to look my way. Her suppressed emotion was almost tangible.

It was like the time she knew I was getting a bike for my birthday and had promised not to tell. If we weren't in class I was sure she would be singing _I know something you don't know_.

I drew a big question mark on a sheet of paper and slid it across to her. Trembling slightly with laughter, she drew a big explanation point and passed it back. What was that supposed to mean? I crumpled it in my hand.

Bertram cleared his throat bringing me back to the uncomfortable awareness of the classroom. He held out his hand. My face burned as I dropped the crumpled ball onto his palm. Titters and giggles swept around the room.

The paper rattled and rustled as he took his time unfolding it. The room became quiet with morbid anticipation as he stared at the paper with raised eyebrows.

"A question mark?" he asked. There was a disappointed sigh from the corner where Doug and Josh hung out. "Puzzled by today's subject are we?" He tugged at his mustache. "Perhaps a little extra study will help clarify." His eyes met mine. "You can pick an animal, a plant, or even an insect that is native to South America and write a 500 word report on it."

The soft hissing of "Yesss" came from Doug's corner. It died instantly when Bertram marched to the front of the room. "I believe I detect enthusiasm for Cody's assignment. Very well. I don't want anyone to feel left out. Each of you can join in the assignment. Reports are due in one week."

The bell rang. Chairs scraped. Voices rose in a clamor. Everyone seemed to go out of their way to pass by my desk muttering their disgust.

"Thanks for nothing." A hand darted out and my notebook skidded across the desk. I grabbed for it, but was shouldered aside. It fell to the floor with a dull splat.

"Next time talk to your girlfriend after class." A large foot stepped on the notebook covering the corner with a dirty tread mark.

"Way to go, Cody," was punctuated by a shove in my back.

"Meet me after school."

I looked up startled. Gen handed me my notebook and repeated, "Meet me after school. Got something to show you."

Then she was gone along with everyone else. Bertram sat at his desk. His bright blue eyes watched me from behind his laptop.

"You have potential, Cody. A scientist requires a questioning mind, but also direction. Consider one of these for your assignment." He held out a paper. His large mustache moved in what I hoped was a smile. It was hard to see his mouth under that hair. I guess the mustache was so large because his head was so bald.

"Thanks." I stuffed the paper into my pocket and dashed out. Only a few other stragglers roamed the halls. If I didn't make the next class on time I could say Mr. Bertram made me late. His name intimidated all of the students and many of the teachers.

* * * * *

After school I sauntered over to the bleachers. I wanted to sit down, but a brief rain had left the wood damp. So I took up my cool stance and waited.

Gen showed up as the last bus roared away with a puff of exhaust. Doug watched us through the back window, the smoky haze blurring his features. My last glimpse was of wide eyes and distorted lips making kissy faces at us.

I sighed and we started home. The first few blocks were quiet. I waited for her news, but she wasn't in a hurry.

When I couldn't stand it any longer I blurted out, "So what did you have to show..."

"Let's grab a soda," she interrupted. We were in front of Harry's News and Coffee Shop. She quickly stepped inside.

Harry sat behind a high counter. He peered at us through thick glasses. A large full beard made his round face look bigger than it was.

"Hey Gen," he called. He smiled at me and I knew he had forgotten my name again. I waved anyway.

Harry specialized in coffee and newspapers of all kinds, but he shared Gen's fondness for fantasy. I was just the kid who came in with her.

Gen strolled up to the counter and picked up a tabloid. I worked my way to the back. With each step the smell of fresh brewed coffee got fainter, replaced by the odor of newsprint. Tucked into a dark corner sat an old cooler filled with ice and sodas. The meager selection didn't surprise me. Cola, ginger ale, or root beer. I grabbed the last two colas.

"Another Loch Ness monster sighting," Gen read.

Harry nodded and pointed to the back wall where text crawled over the surface of a long digitized sign. Like a war room tracking military movements, it announced incoming sensational headlines day and night. The eerie green lit letters shone through the storefront window proclaiming stories about werewolves, giant squid, or the end of the world. I'd heard that you could walk past Harry's at two in the morning and read the latest breaking fantasy news.

Now it echoed the Loch Ness headline from Gen's paper. We paid for the sodas and tabloid. I was glad to get back outside into sunlight and fresh air.

Gen still wore her smirk from this morning. Had she gone all day with it pasted on her face? We walked another block and I finished my soda before trying again.

"Okay, Gen. I know that look. What do you know that I don't know?"

She waved her phone in front of my face. I caught her hand and she wiggled her fingers on the screen. Cloudy pictures with a shadowy shape moved across the face of her phone.

Letting go of her hand I asked, "What is that supposed to be?"

"Don't pretend ignorance. You know it's Bigfoot."

I narrowed my eyes into a suspicious frown. "From the tabloid?"

She huffed her disgust. "From the woods. You were right. He's out there and now I have proof."

"You went in the woods by yourself?"

"Well, I offered to take you with me."

My heart thumped and a wave of nausea swept over me as I pictured the thing swinging out of the trees. "You could have been hurt," I croaked.

She shrugged. The smirk was gone, and that hurt look was coming back into her eyes. "I was careful. I wanted to know if it was real. And you didn't want to come with me."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

She stared at me for a minute, then the smile came back. "Forget it. Look at the clip." She handed me the phone.

The image was already playing. Tree branches surged into view and I flinched as they whipped toward the camera. The image was gray with plenty of shadows.

"It's hard to see anything."

She rested her chin on my shoulder and pointed to the screen with her thin finger. Her nails were painted white with blue butterflies.

"There," she jabbed the screen. I jerked my eyes from her hand and focused on the picture. A man shape, dark and blurry, moved with furtive stealth through the bushes. It paused under a tree facing the camera. When it stopped moving I realized it wasn't blurry, just hairy all over. A light wind stirred the leaves and made the hair wave like a current moving a sea anemone. In the poor light, I couldn't tell if it was wearing clothes or not.

It leaned forward shaking its head. The hair whipped around its face and the mouth opened. I braced myself knowing what was coming. Out came the piercing wail that made my knees jelly. The screen went blank.

"What happened?" I asked looking up from the screen.

"I had to leave." Gen pulled the phone out of my cramped fingers.

"Yeah, the howl was chilling."

"It was incredible. I didn't want to make it feel threatened so I quietly retreated."

"Make it feel threatened?" I repeated.

"It was declaring its territory."

"You're making it sound like you think it's an animal."

She giggled. "Well, it's not vegetable or mineral. It's obviously real. We have it on video."

"It's not a real clear picture," I said. It looked like one of those fake films or a picture in a tabloid, but I knew better than to suggest that.

She frowned. "Okay, we need better pictures. So we go back into the woods to observe it. More research."

Tracking that creature was not anything I wanted to do, so I changed the subject. "Speaking of research, we have an assignment to do on South America. Want to meet at my house and we'll do some online study? Bertram gave me a list of ideas."

She laughed. "Not as much fun as field work, but I'll come over after dinner."

### Chapter 5

Mom almost ran over me when I opened the front door.

"Oops," she said balancing a box in one hand. "Nearly dropped Desiree's cinnamon cookies."

"Cookies?" I reached for the box, but she swung it out of reach.

"Ah, ah. These are for the night crew."

"Did you leave any for your starving family?"

"Not this time, but your dinner is in the frig. Just pop it in the microwave." She kissed my cheek and was gone, taking those lovely cookies with her. Desiree's dinners were an experience in alien cuisine, but her baking was positively addictive.

Dad hunched over his laptop in a tiny room off the kitchen that was supposed to be a pantry. It was Dad's personal realm where he could write and still cook dinner. To call it a den or man cave would be an exaggeration. Shelves meant for holding canned goods were now filled with reference books, reams of paper, and an old printer. Dad affectionately called it The Grotto.

He didn't look up as I opened the frig to find the mystery dinner. The discovery didn't take long. Leftovers from last night. I crinkled up my nose and opted for cereal instead.

I finished off a box of shredded wheat. Not quite satisfied, I opened the frig again and began the search for leftover cake. There it was, strategically hidden behind the broccoli.

Nate thought he was so clever. He had been hiding goodies in the frig behind the broccoli for years. You'd think he would have caught on by now that it wasn't a good hiding place.

Feeling no remorse, I wolfed down the cake. Nate could come in at any time and I didn't want to be caught with the evidence.

I was chasing the last crumbs with my fork when Dad stretched. He turned to the kitchen and stuffed a cookie in his mouth.

"Hey," I said. "Is that one of Desiree's cookies? Where did you get it?"

"He grinned through the crumbs and mumbled, "Cinnamon. Last one." He swallowed. "How does this sound? Jacques hasn't had enough to eat for days. He's made it through the jungle and now he can see the river and his canoe."

Jacques wasn't the only one not getting enough food. "I thought he was wasting away in the sun," I said.

"He was. But he drank from the pool of youth, remember?"

"Isn't that a little convenient?"

Dad looked exasperated. "It all works."

"So how did he get through the jungle? Didn't he have to fight pythons and escape from tigers?"

Dad gave me a disappointed look. "If he were to fight a snake it would have to be an anaconda. Pythons are in Africa and Asia. And tigers are in India. We're still in South America."

"Oh." It seemed like I was destined to learn about South America one way or another.

"Are you ready now?"

I nodded, wishing I had a cookie.

Jacques crawled down to the river, too weak to move much faster than a sloth. A tapir eyed him warily before retreating into the forest cover.

Each rasping breath felt like fire in his chest, but he struggled down the faint path. When he reached the river he dropped his duffel bag into the canoe startling a caiman that was sunning itself on the bank. The soft splash as it slipped into the water sent ripples lapping at his feet. He fell into the canoe. It only took a feeble shove to send it drifting. Leaning back against the filthy duffel he let the current carry him where it would.

The thick air pressed against him, but now that he wasn't walking it was easier to breathe. With a shaking hand he raised the small cross that hung from the thin gold chain around his neck and pressed it to his lips.

"How do you know all that stuff?" I asked.

"What stuff?"

"You know, the tapir, the caiman, snakes..."

"Elementary my dear Cody. It's called research."

"I have to write something on South America. Maybe I should take them a chapter from your book."

"Classified. However, I have an undercover collaborator that might help you. His name is EGOR."

"Like in Frankenstein?"

"Like in literary research program. EGOR - Examine, Generate, Organize Research. He pulled up a website. "It's through the university. Still in beta, but I haven't found any bugs. You'll want to use the Research feature. I'll give you my password, but this is a paid subscription so treat it with respect."

He gave me that _Serious Dad_ look, which I knew meant don't mess this up kid. I nodded.

"Okay. Password is Jack."

"Where did you come up with that?"

His eyes widened. "Haven't you been listening? That's Jacques."

"Ah..."

The doorbell rang.

"That's Gen. We're going to work on the assignment together." I headed for the door and turned back. "Good writing."

He grinned and waved before turning back to his laptop.

Gen and I settled in to the alcove outside the living room where the family computer resided. I was still waiting, and hoping, for my own computer with all the latest extras. But that dream would have to wait until Dad got a job. So far his writing wasn't bringing in a paycheck.

"Dad gave me access to this research program. He thinks it will help us," I said.

"Yeah? What is it?" she asked.

"EGOR." I typed in the password. The cursor turned into a hunched, wizened little creature that shuffled across the screen when I moved the mouse.

"Nice," Gen said with a hint of disgust.

I maneuvered the troll like creature to the prompt box and handed her the paper Bertram had given me.

"What's this?"

"You'll like it. It's a list. From Bertram."

She grimaced and began reading. "One: Neotropical Migratory Birds. Oooh. That would keep me awake nights."

I had to agree that didn't sound too exciting. Nate would probably like it. "Next."

"Two: Life cycles of the Glasswing Butterfly. Okay, that sounds better."

"It's okay for a girl."

She smirked. "Three: Marsupials of South America."

"I could do that."

"It's all yours. I'm doing number four."

"What is four?"

She held the paper at arms length and gave me that _I know something_ smirk."

"Come on, Gen. It can't be that good or Bertram wouldn't have put it on the list."

She read from the paper with glee. "Four: Native legends of mythical beasts."

"It doesn't say that," I said.

"Does too." She handed me the paper.

There it was in Bertram's scrawl. But there was more. "You didn't read the whole thing. It says, native legends of mythical beasts - why the scientific method is critical in separating truth from fantasy."

She shrugged. "It's your list. I'm just using it for inspiration." She pointed to the keyboard. "Type in South American legends."

Reluctantly I typed. The prompt flashed three choices: Animal, Mineral, Plant?

"Animal," she said.

The questions continued prompting us for more and more detail. It was like the little kid who keeps asking why.

Finally the troll climbed to the top of the screen where EGOR was written out. Examine Generate Organize Research.

"Dad said to use Research," I said. When I clicked on the R, the troll scratched his head for several seconds. Then the screen filled with a picture of an ape-like creature labeled Curinquean, the South American Bigfoot.

Gen squealed with delight. I printed it out for her to take home.

She leaned forward and studied the screen. "Can you start over?"

I clicked on New Search, and the prompt box cleared. She pushed on my chair sliding me away from the keyboard. "Let me type."

Her fingers settled over the keyboard like a gifted pianist. EGOR quizzed her mercilessly, but she never faltered. Without hesitation she clicked on choices and keyed in answers. Suddenly the rattle of the keys stopped and I looked at the screen to see what question had stymied her.

It read, Do you have any pictures? She was leaning out of the chair and digging in her jacket. Triumphantly she pulled out her cell phone. "I need a USB cord."

She uploaded the video and EGOR questioned her further. Finally the little troll scooted to the top of the screen and waited. Gen clicked on Research. The troll scratched his head and a message appeared.

No probable answer available. Please choose:

1. Possible Solutions

2. Wild Guess

"Choose possible," I said.

She hesitated but clicked on number one.

The answer came back: orangutan, baboon, gorilla escaped from circus or zoo.

"I don't think so," she said. Quickly she hit the back arrow and clicked on Wild Guess.

The troll pulled out a large pocket watch. A message flashed on the screen.

Research on wild guess scenarios is being processed. Subscription time for your current session has expired. Please enter an e-mail and/or text number for updates and queries.

I heard the keys clicking. "Hey, what are you typing?"

"My e-mail and phone number."

I hoped we weren't violating Dad's don't mess this up warning.

She shrugged on her coat and picked up her stuff. At the door she turned back and said, "Tomorrow after school we hit the woods. Wear your old shoes."

Before I could protest, she was gone.

### Chapter 6

The woods were damp. The faint odor of decaying leaves reminded me vaguely of Desiree's tomato sauce. I would rather have been home eating one of her strange dinners than out here chasing a large furry beast.

A breeze carried dirt and debris into the air. I stifled a sneeze.

"Wait up a sec," I called.

"Shhh!" Gen didn't slow down. She crept up the trail like a Navy Seal with night goggles.

Shadows rippled over the path making the ground seem to move. I stumbled over a tree root and groaned.

"Keep it down," Gen hissed. "We're almost there."

The noise of the stream mingled with birds calling from one tree to another. Gen stopped. I didn't. We collided. She bumped into a large oak tree.

"Oof," she grunted.

"Sorry." I helped her stand up.

She gave me a lopsided grin and pointed to the stream. "This is where I took the video."

I nodded. "This is where I saw it too."

"Standing on the bank?"

I shook my head. "Flying down out of the trees."

She leaned forward and peered through the branches. "Which one?"

Leaning my chin on her shoulder I spoke softly in her ear, "Straight ahead. Came swinging right through that hole where all the leaves are missing."

She turned her head and looked in my eyes to see if I was making fun of her. She could always tell when I was making stuff up. Satisfied, she turned back.

Minutes passed while we stared at the spot. The light faded. The air chilled. Across the stream the treetops quivered and shook in a breeze that didn't reach down to us. I guess we were protected by...what? If the wind was blowing that hard up there we should have been feeling something.

Then I was feeling something, but it wasn't the breeze. A cold chill went down my back. Gen stepped on my foot as she backed up.

Silence descended. No birds sang. No little critters scampered through the underbrush. Only the water continued its noisy chatter.

A large shadow jumped from one branch to another releasing a shower of leaves. Through the opening burst a hairy figure gripping the horned skull over its head. Beastly legs peddled the air.

The mouth opened in a gruesome distortion. Our shrieks broke the silence. The creature's wail blended with our screams in a chilling cacophony.

It dropped to the bank with a deep thud. Leaning forward and shaking the skull at us, it shouted what must have been Bigfoot curses.

I tore my eyes away expecting to see Gen filming. The camera lay limp in her hands, forgotten. Her eyes were riveted on the creature like a mouse before a hawk. All color had drained from her face. In that moment any residue of courage still lurking in my chest evaporated.

Not getting the expected response from us, the monster charged to show it meant business. The splash of its feet in the water brought me to my senses and I grabbed Gen's hand.

With common consent we turned and fled. Pounding up the twisting path we jumped logs and dodged low hanging branches. Briars caught at our clothing as if trying to slow us down so our pursuer could catch up. But the monster didn't need any help.

Behind us the splashing was replaced with heavy footsteps crashing on the path. I glanced back but twilight and the twisting trail hid our pursuer.

"There," Gen panted.

I swung my head back and crashed into her. Why had she stopped? We tumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop in front of a dark hole in a wall of green. Gen scrambled to her hands and knees and skittered through the opening.

"Wait!" I gasped, but her feet were already disappearing. "You don't know what's in there."

Her hand shot out and tugged on my arm. Her voice was muffled. "I know what's out there. Hurry."

A primal howl sent a shock wave through me and sealed my fate. I scrambled inside.

We huddled together. I couldn't hear my heart pounding over the noise of our panting, but I was sure it was sending out loud booms. A buckle on the backpack dug into my hip. I tried to shift my position, but Gen's fingers dug into my leg. That stopped my squirming, and I placed my hand over hers. She clutched at my fingers and we waited.

Through the opening I could see a thin section of the path. My heart slowed. Our breathing returned to normal. Silence settled over our little hideaway. A dim light filtered down from somewhere high above. With slow calculated movements I looked around inside.

My muscles tensed as I started to get up. Gen's fingers squeezed painfully and I stopped. Outside a snuffling noise was followed by a snort and several short barks.

Cracking twigs and grunts faded into the distance. I held my breath. Quick thumping footsteps retreated back the way we had come. All was still for what my heart said was hours, but my reasoning scientific brain knew was just a few minutes. A bird chirped and was answered. Soon the whole chorus started up and Gen's fingers loosened.

"I think it's gone," she said softly.

"Can I move now?"

"Okay."

I shifted and rubbed the spot on my hip where the buckle had left a large dent. My eyes were adjusting. The light was coming through an opening above us.

I stood up. "This is not an animal's den."

"No," she said. "I thought we might be crawling into a wild creature's lair, but this is more like a cave." She started walking around the open area.

My mind filled with pictures from those board books Mom used to read to me years ago. "Big place. Big animals. Like bears...."

She ran her finger over the wall and giggled. "It's a skin."

"And that's funny?"

"I meant hide."

"From what?" I scanned the room for danger.

"No, no. I mean it's a cloth skin. A hide. The Native Americans used them to make teepees."

"I knew that." Now that my thoughts were channeled properly, I could easily see we were in a teepee. In fact it was furnished with the latest fashion in primitive decor.

A chair and bench-like sofa had been constructed by tying thick branches together and covering them with tough cloth. Between them stood a table made from a stump with a flat board on top. There was even a rug on the floor.

Then I realized there really was a floor. "I thought teepees had dirt floors. This looks like tile."

"More like flagstones," Gen said. "My Dad used something like these to build our patio last summer."

She knelt in front of a large wooden crate.

"That probably belongs to someone," I said.

"Um-hum," she said. "Probably a playhouse for some kids. She shoved the lid open with a huff.

Inside was a plastic bin like the ones we store Christmas ornaments in at home. Gen had it open before I could caution her about snooping.

Granola bars, saltines, tea bags, raisin bran, a bag of dried figs. "I don't think that looks like kid food."

"No..." She sealed the plastic lid and closed the crate. "I wonder who lives here?"

Thoughts of hermits and wild men dressed in deerskins with bows and arrows rushed through my mind. Or maybe space aliens.

"I don't know, but it's getting late and they might come home anytime. I wouldn't want them to find us here."

I stuck my head outside hoping a long furry arm wouldn't lob it off. A squirrel gave me a suspicious look and scampered up a tree. Ivy and morning glory vines grew in profusion. The teepee was completely covered from the outside.

All the way back to the schoolyard I had the eerie feeling that we were being watched. But we made it without encountering Bigfoot or any ghosts.

### Chapter 7

Friday morning at last! I slid my backpack over one arm and bounded down the stairs. There was time to grab a soda and chips on the way out.

I slid to a stop in the kitchen doorway. Filled chairs surrounded the usually empty table. Mom, Dad, Nate and Desiree all turned to look at me. What was Desiree doing here at 7:00 in the morning?

My skin tingled with dread. They were all smiling. A bad sign this early in the day. Most of them shouldn't even be awake yet.

Dad waved me in. "We've been waiting for you, Cody. Have a seat."

I cautiously entered the room and perched on the edge of my chair, ready to flee. Nate's eyes danced with a smugness born of hidden information. A hint of something bad to follow.

Dad cleared his throat. "Now that we're all here, I can make my announcement." His gaze swept over each of us as he savored the moment. "I got the job at the school! I start Monday."

This statement was met with a deafening cheer from the others. I sat stunned. The room wavered around me.

Desiree rose to her feet like a ballerina taking center stage. Her bracelet tinkled softly on her delicate wrist as she swept up a wineglass half filled with red liquid. Two stray wisps of hair had escaped her French braid to strategically accent her dark eyes.

I looked around the table. Everyone was holding a wineglass.

"It's a toast, kid. Hoist the crystal," Nate muttered from the corner of his mouth.

Alcohol with my Cheerios? Numbly I picked up the glass.

With her silky film voice Desiree made her toast. "Here's to the one charged with preserving the facilities where the future of the world begins with the education of the young."

Dad was staring at me. I rallied and gave him a weak smile. The clinking glasses were more like the mournful warning of a lonely buoy in the fog signaling my impending doom.

My thoughts focused on my first glass of wine. A fruit and herb smell hid any hint of alcohol. The foamy liquid coated my tongue and I struggled not to spit it out. Wine was supposed to get better as it spoiled. I looked into my glass and ran my tongue over my teeth trying to get rid of the coating.

"What is this?" I asked.

Des smiled. "A special blend of island fruits with a trace of delicate herbs to bring out the natural essence. All the flavor without any alcohol to dull the taste sensation. Do you like it?"

"Yuc, Yu, Yes," I stammered.

Her smile was dazzling, but my tongue still felt fuzzy.

* * * * *

I plugged through the next week keeping my head down and dodging everyone. Word of Dad's job spread like peanut butter on hot toast. I felt like toast.

School became more challenging. Gen ignored me. She was constantly texting someone. I began to wonder if Dad's job was too tantalizing to pass up and she was enjoying the joke with everyone else.

I emptied the remnants of my lunch into the trash. It was like watching my life slip into the bin. I headed for the door.

"Cody!"

I pretended not to hear and picked up my pace. Small footsteps pattered up behind me.

"Cody, slow down," Gen panted and grabbed my arm.

Out of habit my steps slowed to match hers. We ended up at the bleachers of course. She sat down and pulled out her phone.

"Now who are you texting?" I demanded.

"No one. I'm pulling up EGOR's e-mail."

My mind whirled as I tried to place the name. Then it came to me. "The program?"

She nodded.

"You're not texting someone about Cody's Dad, the school custodian?"

She looked up with big question marks in her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

My face felt hot as I realized I was accusing her of disloyalty. "Never mind." I sat down next to her and nodded at the phone. "Why are you talking to EGOR? We turned our assignments in last week."

"That was just a silly exercise. This is the real thing. We have an appointment with destiny."

"My destiny seems to be dealing with Dad being the school custodian. It's taking all my energy to avoid Doug and Josh."

"Forget those Neanderthals. I'm pretty sure we have a rare and unclassified creature living right here in our little valley, and only a few people know about it."

"Less than a few. I suspect you might be the only one."

"Well, I thought that too until I found someone on YouTube who suspects what I suspect."

I suspected the conversation was leading somewhere I didn't want to go. Still it was impossible not to ask the next question. "What do you suspect?"

"Bigfoot," she barely breathed out the word.

This was worse than dealing with Dad's job. "Gen, you do remember growing up in this town. Remember the Christmas you thought there were elves in your yard and Doug started calling you Gen Gen the elven queen? What about the time Josh stole your wings at Halloween and tied them onto a scarecrow on his porch?"

"That's what Neanderthals do," she said, but the light in her eyes was fading.

"And let's not forget my toy wookie that I carried with me everywhere and insisted could talk. If I so much as hint that Bigfoot lives in the woods, Doug will revive the wookie tales like a bad remake of King Kong.

She put her hand on my arm. "We won't tell anyone, but you have to see this video."

There was no debating. I had used my best arguments and lost. Nothing new there.

Leaning against me she held the phone between us.

The screen filled with trees. A shadowy figure plowed through the greenery while eerie music built to a crescendo of crashing cymbals. The picture shrank to a black dot. Then it opened to reveal the cartoon animation of a man behind a news desk. He leaned forward with wide eyes. His bushy eyebrows rose till they ran up against his shock of dark unruly hair.

His deep, smooth voice had just the hint of an accent. "There are undiscovered species living on our planet." He pointed his finger at us. "Some are as close as _your_ backyard or just a few miles from _your_ home."

The scene cut back to the vague outline of something crashing through trees while his voice continued. "These shadowy creatures, undocumented by the scientific community, are often dismissed as folklore or urban legends."

The reporter's wild eyes filled the screen again. "But one of these creatures has been discovered." His voice dropped to conspiracy level. "In a small, quiet, ordinary, community...like yours."

He leaned back with a big smile. "Check back for updates."

Green color flooded the screen and a hairy cartoon creature loped across looking back over its shoulder.

"Cute," I said, "but what makes this one different from all the other Bigfoot videos out there?"

"EGOR gave me the link. He's following up to my question about what is in our woods. The question he said would take some time. Well, he thinks it's Bigfoot."

"Gen, EGOR is not a person. It's a program."

"But this was made by a person."

"Someone who should be spending his time doing professional commercials." I wished I had a voice like that.

"It was filmed in our woods."

"How do you come to that conclusion? It's just a bunch of trees. It could be in Canada for all we know."

She rolled back through the video and paused, zooming in. "Right there."

"It's a sign that says No Tresspassing. Lots of people put them up." But my voice wasn't convincing even me. I knew that sign.

"It's the same as the one in my video," she said. "It hangs at the same slant and it's spelled wrong. They put an extra s in trespassing, just like the one in our woods. Someone else knows about Bigfoot, and EGOR might know who."

### Chapter 8

Saturday morning and I found the kitchen full of people again. I hoped this wasn't going to be the new routine.

I tapped the box adding a couple more Cheerios to my already full bowl. Mom dropped a banana on the table. "Add fruit to it, dear."

Wasn't there some physics law about more than one thing in the same place at the same time? Just adding milk was going to be tricky.

Desiree pulled out a knife and in seconds banana slices were artistically balanced over the mound of cereal. I began to wonder if she had moved in. Not that I minded.

Dad came out from his grotto carrying his laptop. "Oh good. An audience. Let me set the scene. Jacques is about to escape from the hospital."

"What's he doing in the hospital?" Desiree asked.

Dad waved his hand in the air. "Not important to this reading. Helen, you're the medical expert. Your input would be invaluable."

Mom smiled and gave him a hug on the way to the dishwasher. "Read on, dear."

Dad cleared his throat.

Several nurses hurried past and disappeared into other rooms. The traffic cleared and he slipped into the hall pulling the door closed behind him. Trying to look nonchalant, he padded down the long hallway. Not an easy task in a hospital gown.

"He's not going to get far in that outfit," Mom said.

Dad nodded and kept reading.

Loud voices came from the direction of his room followed by running feet. Heart racing he scanned the hall. Taking a deep breath and hoping he wasn't barging in to anything indelicate, he yanked open the first door he could find. A linen closet. Relief surged through him leaving him slightly dizzy. He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.

With reluctance he sorted through the laundry bin and dressed in the cleanest orderly clothes he could find.

"Without any underwear?" Des said. "That's disgusting."

"What about shoes?" Nate asked.

"Too many details," Dad said. He cleared his throat and read on.

Jacques pushed the cart into the hall. The only exit was past his room. Slowly he turned the cart around and retraced his path. A nurse stepped in front of the cart, and tossed in a bundle of soiled towels. "There's more in room 213," she said.

He passed 213 without stopping. Four men dressed in jeans and polo tops stood talking quietly outside his room. Security for sure. He shuffled past keeping his eyes down.

As he stepped into the elevator he heard footsteps approaching. A man's voice called, "Hold the door."

Jacques jabbed the button for the basement level and didn't look up till the doors closed.

When they opened again a man in a crisp uniform rushed by. The stylized logo of a worker with a mop was emblazoned on his back. "Another one?" he said over his shoulder. "Well, there's room in the back. Just slide it in and close up the doors if you don't mind." He climbed into the driver's seat of a large van, which said _Joe's Cleaning Service_ across the side.

Jacques ran the cart into the back. He climbed in behind it and hauled up the ramp. The van's engine started. He pulled the doors shut with a bang. The van began to move and he squeezed between two soft-sided carts and sank to the floor.

Dad looked up for approval. His eyes traveled around the room and landed on me. I swallowed the last bite of Cheerios and said, "Good escape, Dad."

"Very logical," Des said. "Well planned. Except for the underwear," she added under her breath.

My phone beeped and I looked down to see a text from Gen. She was waiting on the front porch. I put the bowl in the dishwasher and slipped out while they were discussing refinements on Jacques wardrobe.

Gen sat on the porch swing, her eyes riveted to her phone. Without looking up she patted the wooden seat.

I squeezed in beside her and craned my neck to see her phone.

"Remember the video?" she asked.

"About Bigfoot in our woods?"

She nodded. "It's spreading."

"You mean he's been spotted other places?"

"No, the story's been picked up by a blogger."

I sat back. The swing wobbled. "Really?"

"Here, I'll play it for you."

Her fingers glided over the screen. She turned it toward me and a video began to play a short flurry of cheesy announcement music. The screen pixilated into the animation of a man behind a news desk. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place him until he started to speak. It was the deep mellow voice from the cartoon character.

"Hello, I'm George Roge and _this_ is the first installment of my soon to be famous video blog. I call it Probable Impossibilities. Tracking Tomorrow's History Now. I'll start by putting my best foot forward, and it's a big foot."

He swung his leg up on the desk showing us a big, bare, hairy foot. A toothy grin spread over his face. "New sightings of the fabled Sasquatch have been seen near a small town in rural America. That's right. Bigfoot. Now control your laughter and prepare to be amazed."

He swung his chair to the side and the camera focused on the wall behind him. "Check out this video taken by an eye witness."

The wall faded to green and the video EGOR had sent to Gen began playing. The blogger continued talking.

"This historic footage will be difficult for the scientific community to disclaim out of hand. Stay tuned for future updates. This is an ongoing story."

Gen's eager face looked up from the phone.

"It's just a remake of the cartoon with the same video..." my voice trailed off as I melted into those trusting eyes. "Well...it's...it's more...professional," I ended lamely.

"It has over 5,000 hits," she said, "and it's only been out there one day. Do you know what this means?"

"Our town's going to be overrun with," I stopped short of saying nuts, and frantically searched my brain for the right adjective.

"Opportunists," she filled in for me. "Strangers will be looking for ways to exploit this and leave us out of the loop. The woods won't be safe anymore."

A shadow fell across my feet and a wave of perfume washed over me. I looked up to see Desiree and Nate.

He leaned forward. "Are there strangers lurking in our humble woods?"

Gen palmed her phone and gave him one of her disarming smiles.

Desiree slipped her hand into Nate's and entwined her fingers through his. "Leave the kids alone Nate."

"Aren't you concerned that something might be going on in the woods?" he asked.

"Nothing we don't know about," she said.

"Do we know what others know that we don't know?"

Desiree's eyes sparkled. "I don't know."

"Maybe some ruthless person is exploiting our resources."

"I'm not concerned. I get my herbs from the store."

"All of them?" he said.

She pulled him toward the steps. He followed her and they laughed all the way to his car.

Gen stared at the old Chevy Impala as it drove away. "What was that all about?"

I shrugged. "Nate used to be fun. Now he's practical and boring unless he's talking to Des."

"Well, don't let it happen to you," she said.

"Not much chance of that while I'm hanging out with you."

"Don't try to change the subject with that innocent smile. We need to go back into the woods and do more research."

"Research?" My voice cracked as I squeaked out the word and I felt my face getting hot. She didn't seem to notice.

"We can't let this blogger make all the discoveries," she continued. "Who knows what his motive might be."

"Fame and fortune?" I suggested.

"Exactly. Exploitation of Bigfoot. We have to protect him."

I was more concerned with who was going to protect us.

"Tomorrow we head into the woods," she declared.

"Can we eat before we go? Desiree is cooking after church."

"Her dinners are scary," Gen said.

"Yeah, but I don't want to miss one of her sensational desserts." I gave her my best grin.

"Okay," she agreed. "We'll be well fortified for the adventure."

### Chapter 9

Gen dropped her backpack by the door with a heavy thud. Obviously this would be a serious foray into the woods. But first I was going to have dinner. More importantly, dessert.

The intoxicating smell of yeast pulled us into the kitchen. Des stood in front of the open oven. The aroma of hot, freshly baked bread enveloped me. I stood breathing in the fragrance.

Des set the bread on the counter. Heat from the stove had blushed her cheeks with captivating color and curled a strand of hair around her ear.

Nate nudged me. "You're blocking the doorway, kiddo."

I cringed. Dad waved his hand at the table. "Sit down and I'll share my newest chapter while we wait for the bread to cool."

"Why do we want the bread to cool?" I asked. No one answered.

Gen sat between Nate and me. He poured Coke for her, and offered her small meat roll hors d'oeuvres from a china platter. She ate it up - the hors d'oeuvres and the attention. It was disgusting.

Dad cleared his throat and looked up from his laptop. "Okay, last time we saw our hero he had just escaped from the hospital. Now he's out in the world with nothing but a dirty uniform."

"And no underwear," Des reminded us.

"And no shoes," Nate commented as he passed Gen a tray filled with sculpted veggies.

Dad ignored them and began reading.

Industrial washers lined the walls of _Joe's Uniforms and Dry Cleaning_ like a typical Laundromat. But these machines were not coin operated and there were no bored patrons slouching in plastic chairs.

"Name's Joe," the owner called over his shoulder. "Bring that bin and follow me."

Jacques strained to navigate the heavy bin through the narrow aisles. It was difficult to keep up with Joe. Before his discovery of the pool on the cliff, he would not have had the strength. Since then he had escaped the jungle and the hospital. Now he just wanted to get away from the smell of the ripe uniforms in the bin.

Two large commercial fans provided a background of white noise, but the air they circulated was far from cool or fresh.

The owner shouted over the noise. "You hit it right. A couple days earlier and I wouldn't have had a job for you. But old Davey called in sick again. Fred up and quit yesterday. Walked out and took his attitude with him." He stopped in front of one of the machines. "Just bring that up here and I'll give you the or-ee-un-tation."

Jacques hauled the cart to a stop and waited. His mind drifted as Joe belabored the steps of loading the machine.

"It looks simple, but you can't do the job proper if you don't know all the steps. Am I right?"

Jacques nodded.

"Darned right I am," Joe said. "Now do you need me to go over it again?"

"No, I got it," Jacques said.

Joe's eyes narrowed. "I don't like cocky. Fred was cocky. Never wanted to listen."

Jacques quickly added, "You're a good teacher. Very thorough."

"Fred must hang out with Doug and Josh," I whispered to Gen.

"I could picture them working at a Laundromat," she said.

"Not sure Joe could explain the job to them," I said.

"Put a sock in it, kiddo," Nate said. "We're in the middle of the story."

Dad gave him a bewildered glance, but Nate waved his hand dismissively. Dad continued reading.

Joe dug a wad of bills from his pocket, peeled off several and held them out. "As we agreed, I'll advance you one night's pay. Now you bring your ID in tomorrow before your shift starts and we'll put you on the payroll. We run a clean shop here." He chuckled at his joke.

"Thank you," Jacques said.

"That uniform you're wearing should be in the bin, not on your back," Joe said. The smug grin was still on his face. "There's some unclaimed stuff in the back room. You otta change if you can find somethin' to fit."

"Maybe he can find some clean underwear," Des said.

Mom smiled.

Joe ambled out still snorting and snickering to himself.

Jacques counted the money. It would have to do. Enough for a bus ticket, but not much more. Joe would be angry when he didn't show up the next night, but he didn't think he would turn him in.

While the washers were running, Jacques went through the unclaimed clothes and found some that fit. There were extras and he stuffed them into a thin cloth duffel bag that had seen way too many washings. After scrubbing up at one of the large sinks, he used a clean uniform for a towel and added it to the next wash.

A couple hours before the shop opened, he rummaged through the cupboards in the back room and found a pair of scissors. Standing in front of a dim mirror, he stared at the young man in the glass who looked back at him from a distant era. Slowly he tugged at the dark beard and raised the scissors. Ruthlessly he cut off the last two months of growth. When he finished, instead of a beard he had just a shadow on his face. He pulled his hair back in a ponytail and secured it with a rubber band.

When the desk clerk arrived, Jacques looked nothing like the man that Joe had hired the night before. Even if someone from the hospital spotted him, Jacques was confident they wouldn't recognize him as the escaped patient. An hour later he was slouched in the back seat of a bus headed out of town.

Jacques slept fitfully as the miles passed. When he got off several towns later, his first stop was at a run down hiring agency not far from the border. The man behind the desk looked amused.

"You have no ID? Tell you what. You work for me for a while. I know someone who specializes in finding ID for folks who lost theirs. I'll give him a call and set you up."

Suggestions for the story flew around the table. I was concentrating on food, what I could get of it. I tried to stick to the bread and salad. Nate passed dishes to Gen, but quickly took them back again skipping me completely. I would have starved if Des hadn't intercepted and gave me extra helpings. To my disappointment, there was no dessert.

Dad pushed his plate away and set the laptop in its place. That was my signal to make a hasty retreat. I started to slide back, but my chair wouldn't move.

Nate leaned over me from behind, his strong fingers gripping the back. "Are you forgetting something?" he said softly.

Gen smiled up at him. "Not at all," she said, and started clearing the table.

I was still tying to figure out how he had gotten up without me noticing.

Nate said, "I'd love to stick around and ponder Jacques dilemmas, but Des has a video to finish for her class."

Just like that the kitchen was empty except for Gen, me, and the clean up. It didn't take too long to load the dishwasher. We crept past Dad's grotto where the tapping of computer keys had a faulty rhythm. Mom settled down in front of the television. Gen and I slipped outside the front door to make our preparations.

"Got the camera?" she said.

I handed it to her.

"Grab the backpack." She pulled on her coat.

While she checked the camera's batteries and memory I zipped up my jacket. Smooth the way she had relegated me to carrying the supplies. I slung the backpack over my shoulder and quickly shifted my balance to offset its bulk. "What's in this thing?"

"Batteries, flashlight, binoculars, water, granola bars. Just the essentials."

"We just ate. Why do we need food?"

"Always be prepared." She headed down the sidewalk.

* * * * *

The woods were quiet. I shifted the pack to keep the bottles from poking me in the back. We crept down the path and stopped behind a tree where we could see the river.

"It's early," Gen whispered. "Maybe he only comes out at dusk."

That was fine with me. I wasn't eager for any close encounters. "We could go back to the house..."

"Shhh!" She pointed to the trail. Leaves rustled and a twig snapped. "Let's check it out."

The camera came to life with a soft whir. With resignation I followed her down the path to my inevitable fate.

"You're breathing too loud," she hissed.

"I'm carrying three years of supplies," I muttered.

"Quiet."

Something shuffled down the path ahead of us with a faint sorrowful keening. Gen threw me a what-is-that-noise look. I shrugged.

She raised the camera and filmed. We rounded the corner. I expected a ferocious Bigfoot, a wounded raccoon, or just a scared rabbit. Instead a woman stood outside the teepee entrance holding a bunch of broken twigs. It was Ms. Kendrick in old jeans and a faded sweatshirt.

She looked as surprised as I felt. "If I had known a film crew was following me I would have dressed for the occasion. I hope that doesn't pick up sound. I'm not much of a singer."

Gen's fingers fumbled with the camera as she hastened to turn it off.

Ms. Kendrick hesitated the way she did in class when someone asked a question. But what she said next made no sense.

"The water should be hot by now. Would you care to join me for tea?"

"We stood staring like we had just been asked the bonus question on a pop quiz. Tea? In the middle of the woods?

She laughed as if reading my mind, and then disappeared inside. Her muffled voice called back to us. "Come into my cozy shelter."

The pack stuck as I tried to enter. I slipped it off and set it down inside the doorway.

Ms. Kendrick dropped her sticks near a small pit in the center of the room where a burning wood fire gave off the faint smell of sweet apples. Flames reached through a metal grate and licked around the bottom of a small black pot. Not just any pot. A miniature cauldron with a brass handle.

"Have a seat on the sofa." She waved her hand at the bench.

I looked at it with misgivings. Easing down I balanced on the edge. Gen sat down beside me. The logs creaked a bit and the cloth shifted, but it held together.

A thin trail of smoke curled upward, escaping through the hole high above. A pale light came down through the opening and mingled with the fire's yellow glow. Ms. Kendrick bent over the crate. The flickering light cast her distorted shadow on the wall.

It moved like a hunchback creature across the teepee's hide. The shadow's long fingers dropped leaves into an earthenware pot and began crushing them with a pestle. The dark image moved toward the fire and poked something under the grate.

A burst of green and yellow sparks rose. Light erupted. The shadow creature shrank, and all but disappeared.

Gen inhaled deeply. "Scented pine cones," she said with a happy sigh. "An enchanted fire."

Ms. Kendrick dropped the crushed leaves into the cauldron and snapped a mesh cover over it. She handed me a dull brown stoneware cup with a lump where the handle should have been.

Gen's cup was not shaped much better.

"My attempt at pottery making," she said. "I never advanced past cups."

I could see why.

Using tongs and a hot pad she picked up the cauldron and poured the tea.

I just held the cup. Heat crept through the stoneware and warmed my fingers as I sniffed the rising steam.

Gen was more adventurous and took a hesitant sip.

"Well?" Ms. Kendrick said. "What do you think of my tea?"

Gen took another sip. "It sort of grows on you."

"Actually it grows on a tree not far from here."

"It smells like something Des would make," I said.

"Oh? Who is Des?" Ms. Kendrick asked.

"My brother's girlfriend. She's always cooking odd...I mean strange...I mean...."

"Exotic," Gen finished for me.

Ms. Kendrick smiled her teacher smile. "What makes something exotic? Often it's because it's unfamiliar. The tea is not well known, but it is native to the area." She waved her hand to take in the clusters of roots and leaves tied to the poles supporting the teepee. "All these plants are local. The Native Americans made good use of them."

"But how do you keep the animals from eating your plants?" I asked.

"Sometimes the squirrels and chipmunks are a problem," she admitted.

"I was thinking of larger animals."

"What did you have in mind? Like lions and tigers and bears?"

"Something more...exotic," Gen said, and pulled out her phone.

"Something unknown," I added.

"Is that what you were filming? An exotic creature?"

Gen nodded and held out the phone. I watched Ms. Kendrick as she viewed the Bigfoot video, expecting her to scoff at the idea.

There was a hint of humor in her voice as she handed the phone back. "I'll have to be more observant."

"You don't think it's real, do you?" Gen asked.

Ms. Kendrick's eyes twinkled with mischief and she shrugged. "I think Bigfoot is a fascinating possibility. An improbable possibility to be sure, and not something I'd bet my reputation on. But wouldn't it be fun to discover one?"

### Chapter 10

The trip into the woods was still on my mind the next morning. I opened the blinds to a gray sky. Gen waited by the road. Her breath showed in the cold air as she danced first on one foot and then the other.

I jogged down the stairs pulling on my jacket. It still smelled faintly of wood fire. The door banged behind me, and Gen turned with a fretful smile. She wasn't dancing just from the cold. Something was stressing her.

Waving her phone in the air she blurted out, "He's back."

I caught her flailing hand. "Deep breath. Tell me who."

"The blogger. There's a new Bigfoot broadcast." She pulled her hand free, scrolled through a couple screens, and handed me the phone.

This video started the same as before, with the short burst of cheesy music. The screen pixilated to show the familiar face behind a news desk. It was no longer a cartoon or even an animation. This was the real person.

"George Roge here with another installment of Probable Impossibilities. Tracking Tomorrow's History Now. For those of you who think I put my foot in my mouth last time..."

He picked up a cookie in the shape of a bare foot and took a bite. "Ah, the taste of cinnamon. Full of antioxidants, you know." He brushed the sugar crumbs off his chin. "Now back to the subject at hand. Well, foot."

While flicking crumbs off his fingers, he punched in numbers on the desk phone. "What we need is a leading expert on mysterious encounters in the wild. And I've found just the man." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Let's get him on the phone."

He drummed his fingers while the phone rang. Finally a man's voice answered. "Hello?"

George brightened. "Ah, Dr. Fontaine. George Roge here."

"Yes, George. I've been expecting your call."

"Excellent. Let's start by telling our listeners about your impressive credentials. Jack is a Senior Professor at Midtown University where he has taught classes in archeology and anthropology for 25 years. He has been published in major scientific journals and is on the board of the Municipal Museum of Archeology. I understand he has a shelf full of awards for his work."

"A very small shelf," Jack said with a chuckle.

George leaned forward and his face filled the screen. "But he doesn't spend all his time in the somber halls of academia. Jack also leads students on field trips. But some of his most compelling work is when he ventures into the wild, _alone_ , on an expedition."

The camera panned out and George pulled down a screen that showed a picture of Bigfoot peering out from a cluster of trees. "Tell me Jack, have you ever seen Bigfoot?"

Jack laughed. "Not up close and personal."

"From a distance then?"

"There are many unknowns in the wild that cannot yet be explained. I have discovered artifacts and tantalizing mysteries that are open to interpretation and not easily dismissed by scholars. An open mind is a better tool than rigid science."

George's eyes grew large and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "I think we can say the possibilities are _wide open_."

He picked up a cup of coffee and blew on it before taking a noisy sip. "We're _hot_ on the trail, and it may lead to _your_ backyard."

My hand trembled as I handed the phone back to Gen.

"Who are these guys?" she said. "Do you think they know about our woods?"

"I don't know," I answered, "but we're going to do a little investigating of our own."

* * * * *

When we entered Bertram's class, he was writing on the board. The bell rang. He turned to watch us, his piercing eyes commanding our attention. One by one the kids felt his stare and silence settled over the room.

Bertram read the words on the board. "Life can be reduced to probabilities." He waited for responses, but we all sat there like zombies.

Accustomed to our lethargy, Bertram continued. "For example, someone will win the Mega Lottery. But it's probable that it won't be anyone in this room or anyone you know."

Doug raised his hand. "Why isn't that probable?"

"The odds vary depending on the lottery, but your chances are somewhere between one in 18 million or even one in 120 million. It's mathematical."

"But you can change the odds by changing the circumstances," Elroy said.

"In what way?" Bertram asked.

Josh's hand shot up. "Buy more tickets. You have to play to win." A big grin spread across his face and he looked around for approval.

Bertram nodded. "Technically true. Your chances might go from 1 in 18 million to 1 in 12 million." A ripple of giggles circled the room. "Hardly worth your lunch money."

"You need to change the odds with inside information," Elroy said. "Like knowing you should buy stock in a nothing company right before it goes global."

Bertram shrugged. "If you have inside information, then you are acting on a probable outcome."

They continued to argue the point, but my thoughts were focused on the possibility of Bigfoot in our woods. I didn't think the odds were likely, but what were the other possible explanations? What about the expert that George interviewed? He hadn't really denied that Bigfoot existed.

A squeaking marker jerked me back to the classroom. Bertram had filled the board with graphs and figures.

"Scientific research is based on examining and proving probabilities," he said.

"But possibilities are what make life interesting and give it meaning," Gen said. "Otherwise you'll never take a chance or recognize an opportunity when it comes."

Josh smirked. "Like sprouting wings?"

Doug snickered. "Or making friends with a wookie."

A spot of purple colored Gen's cheek. It was like seeing smoke before feeling the flames. Anger was building inside her, and there was nothing I could do to contain the fire.

Eyes flashing she stood up and faced them. Mercifully the bell rang. Chairs scraped the floor, and pockets of conversation erupted as everyone watched the unfolding drama. I squeezed her arm and said, "Don't bother. It's not worth it." But she wasn't listening.

She didn't yell, but somehow her voice carried like low thunder. "Neanderthals. If you have any computer abilities, try Probable Impossibilities..."

"Gen!" I grabbed our backpacks and gave her a push toward the door. "Let it go."

I glanced back. Doug and Josh did look like Neanderthals with mouths open and vacant stares on their faces. Bertram's expression was more intelligent, but just as surprised. I ran to catch up with Gen.

* * * * *

Whispers and stares followed me the rest of the day, but there were no further incidents.

Gen waited by the bleachers when school got out.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have reacted to them. It was that stupid jab about the wookie that pushed me over the edge."

What could I say? She was defending me. "Don't worry about it. You should have seen the look on Bertram's face. Today was one possibility he hadn't considered probable."

She giggled. By the time we walked home, her optimism had returned.

Nate was at school that evening. With Mom at work and Dad in his grotto, Gen and I had the computer to ourselves to surf the net.

She paused the video on her phone. "Let's see if we can figure this guy out. Type in Jack Fontaine."

There were over 1,000 hits. I started scanning them. "Actor, dentist, lawyer, plumber." After five pages I stopped. "None of these seem to be a professor or explorer."

"Okay," she said. "Try Midtown University."

There it was. "Bingo," I said and clicked on the first entry.

She rested her chin on my shoulder as we scanned through the pages. "Looks like an online university. Click on staff."

"There's only four. Peter Jones, Edmund Fitzsimmons, Jacques Fontaine, and Jillian Hubbard."

"Are they kidding?" she said. "Jack and Jill?"

"And Peter and Ed," I added.

When I clicked on the names, only Jacques had a bio. The others came up with the message, _Not Available_. "That's weird," I said.

"Try classes."

I clicked on the tab for registration. _Down for Maintenance_ popped up on the screen.

"This isn't much of a website," Gen said. "I'll bet this is just a fake front. I hope it's not downloading a virus."

Stifling a yell I shoved the cursor across the screen and closed the site. I didn't want to explain a virus to Dad. I ran a quick virus scan and sighed with relief when it came up clean.

"Maybe it's a good site, just not fully operational yet," I said.

"Like the deathstar?" she asked.

"Right. Let's hope it doesn't explode."

"So search for George Roge."

This only brought up the YouTube videos.

"So what we have is an unknown blogger, a questionable university, and an obscure professor," I said. "We still don't know how they know about our woods."

"Maybe they're local."

"Maybe it's Doug and Josh leading us down the path."

She shook her head. "The Neanderthals don't have what it takes to put those videos together. Elroy might, but he doesn't have a motive. Besides, the video has a real person. What adult would go along with this kind of hoax?"

Something about the whole thing kept tugging at my mind the rest of the evening. By the time I went to bed I was sick of it. I managed to push the thoughts aside and was just drifting off to sleep when it hit me. I sat up, wide-awake. Jack and Jill...Jacques and Jillian...it was Dad's book.

I grabbed my phone and sent a text to Gen. She must have been awake too because her reply came right back.

_No way_.

### Chapter 11

"I'm telling you Dad doesn't have enough technical know how to make a video. He can hardly find the fast forward on the DVD player."

We sat down on the bleachers. Ten minutes left before we had to be in class.

"What about Nate?" Gen said. "He and Desiree make videos. Maybe they are working with your dad on it."

"Nate? Working on something with Dad?" I shook my head. "Last time Nate and Dad did something together was when he played little league."

"It has to have some connection to the book. What's the story about?"

"I'm not sure. Midlife crisis I think. Fountain of youth. New Job. I think Dad's trying to find himself."

She looked thoughtful. "Could be a promotional stunt from his publisher."

I snorted. "He doesn't have a publisher. And his book doesn't even mention Bigfoot."

"Let's watch the video again. Maybe we missed something." She pulled it up on her phone. "Whoa," she said. "He put out a new one." She leaned against me and I tried to focus on the phone.

It started with the now familiar music and the news desk.

"George Roge here with Probable Impossibilities. Tracking Tomorrow's History Now." He started dialing the phone. "Let's see if we can get Dr. Fontaine on the phone."

A man's voice answered. "Yes?"

"Jack?"

"No, this is Professor Edmund Fitzsimmons. Jacques is out on field work."

George leaned into the camera and grinned. "Chasing Bigfoot?"

"Bigfoot!" Edmund laughed. "That's a good one even for Jacques. No, no. He's off to South America to find ancient artifacts."

George winked. "I see," he drawled out the words. "Primate artifacts?"

"Pre-Columbian artifacts," Edmund said. "I'm afraid you'll need to call back in a week or so." He hung up.

George sat back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. He wasn't wearing shoes or socks. "He was certainly in a hurry to get off the phone, wasn't he? Who knows what Jack may have discovered?" He wiggled his toes.

The video ended. The bell rang. We raced for the school.

Gen tugged on my arm as we neared Bertram's class. "Slow down," she said. "We don't want to make a grand entrance."

I grinned and said, "Walk casually."

It wouldn't have mattered. We could have been invisible. All attention riveted on the back of the room. Doug and Josh sat on their desks like judges holding court.

Elroy stood before them arguing his case. "There are plenty of unknowns. You can't brush aside the existence of Bigfoot without investigation. It's arrogant."

"And you think this George Roge has investigated?" Doug said.

"He's examining the possibilities," Elroy said.

"Possibilities?" Doug turned to Josh.

'Without facts?" Josh added.

They shook their heads and said in unison, "Life can be reduced to probabilities."

Laughter swept through the room followed by taunts.

"You need hard evidence."

"Where's the skeleton?"

"Who's an eyewitness?"

"Show me first-hand experience."

Doug's eyes swept the room and locked on me. "Wookie boy," he called. "You have first-hand experience. Tell us what you know about Bigfoot."

I could feel heat rising up my neck as anger began to build. Doug's eyes sparkled with glee. "It's for science."

"What would a Neanderthal know about science?" Gen asked in a low voice.

The door thumped closed and Bertram's voice dominated. "I'm glad to see the class engaged in scientific inquiry."

Chairs scraped. Feet pounded. Books thumped on desks. We all made a mad scramble to get to our seats.

Bertram watched with indulgence while the chaos settled in to the normal quiet of his classroom.

"Now then," he said, "can someone explain this fanciful interest in mythical creatures?"

Elroy responded. "A blogger named George Roge has been following a story of Bigfoot sightings. He has videos of it."

"Really?" Bertram said. "What respectable news outlet is carrying his story?"

"YouTube," someone called out.

"I see. Very scientific. Shall we watch this remarkable documentation?"

Bertram pulled up the videos on his laptop and played them on the class screen. I sunk down in my chair wishing I were home with the flu or at least had overslept. Viewing them with Bertram's supervision was like watching a five year old explain Einstein's theory of relativity.

Bertram spent the rest of the class debunking the videos. He chided us for not being more on top of modern technology. He demonstrated how to perform rigid scientific proofs. He explained the need for careful documentation of repeatable experiments. By the time class was over, everyone but Gen, and me, was a true skeptic.

Bertram's presentation was unarguable. But I had seen the creature. Not that I was going to admit that to anyone. The one wookie boy comment had rekindled all my fears. I knew it was just a matter of time before the whole school joined Doug and Josh in their game.

I hoped Bertram's logical analysis would put an end to the topic. No such luck. It followed us into Lit class.

Ms. Kendrick breezed into the room, and conversations died down. She opened her laptop. Her finger hovered over the enter key, and her eyes swept the room. For a moment I could see her in the teepee as she poured tea.

Her hand descended and my hope died. The wall screen flooded with green color. I felt green inside. The familiar music sounded and George appeared. She froze the image.

"Since the hubbub of the school today is focused on Bigfoot, I thought we should consider the possibilities of Mr. Roge's reports."

Once again we were subjected to George Roge and all his blogs. I didn't watch. From the corner of my eye I could see Doug and Josh whispering together. They frequently glanced in my direction, stifling laughter and passing a paper back and forth.

Each video more firmly cemented me in their primitive minds as wookie boy. My future would be limited to standing in front of a costume store in a gorilla outfit holding a sign about the latest sale.

"What is the possibility that Bigfoot exists?" Ms. Kendrick asked.

Doug and Josh led the charge. Almost verbatim they repeated Bertram's arguments.

Ms. Kendrick was not daunted. "Scientists are constantly revising their opinions. At one time they thought Venus was inhabitable and the Earth was flat. The argument is not that we shouldn't use logic to prove theories. The argument is that we should think outside known parameters and consider the possibilities. Can anyone think of an example?"

Gen's face lit up. "The platypus." Doug and Josh looked blank. Her voice was soft and her expression carried pity for lesser creatures as she explained. "You know, warm blooded, lays eggs, has a bill and webbed feet, nurses its young."

"Great example," Ms. Kendrick said. "A creature that rocked the scientific world. Much like Bigfoot would."

Half the class had swung back in favor of Bigfoot by the time the bell rang.

The following classes were a washout. The teachers didn't have a chance of holding our attention on any other subject. George Roge reigned throughout the school like news of a rock concert. It was Bigfoot vs. Neanderthals, Science vs. Imagination, Possibilities vs. Probabilities. The few who hadn't seen the videos in a classroom were staring at their cell phones as they walked to the bus.

Gen waited for me at the bleachers, her eyes glued to her phone.

"Aren't you tired of watching those videos?" I slumped onto the bleachers. "I'm Bigfoot toe jam. My only hope for a normal life is to move to a new town."

She looked up. "You'll have to move at least a hundred miles."

"What?"

"There's a new video."

My brain felt numb, but I sat up to watch the newest release.

"George Roge here with Probable Impossibilities. Tracking Tomorrow's History Now."

His voice dropped to a husky, confidential whisper. "We've heard from Jack. He's stumbled across something really big. Yes, I said – Big." He wiggled his eyebrows and his voice returned to newscast drama mode. "There are forces that would like to suppress or even misuse Jack's discovery.

"On a mundane field trip in the South American Mountains, Jack uncovered an unprecedented find. He is now determined to keep it safe from exploitation.

"Regrettably, his foray into the wilderness drained his strength. To keep his secret safe, he was forced to abandon the refuge of medical attention and has made a daring escape. Now he's on the run. We suspect that his colleague, Jill, is with him."

George activated a screen that lit up with a map of the United States. "They have been assuming new identities and working their way across the country." He shrugged. "We don't know _if_ or _when_ we'll hear from either of them again.

"However, my detailed analysis of the Bigfoot film leads me to believe that our quarry resides somewhere in this vicinity." Like a weatherman he drew a circle on the map with his finger.

"Closer to _your_ backyard than you had dreamed."

I stared in horror. Our valley was in the middle of the circle.

### Chapter 12

When I got home the kitchen was full of people around the table. Mom was awake. Dad, Nate and Des all turned my way. A few scraps of lasagna were all that was left of their meal. My adrenaline surged. It couldn't be time for dinner. By the clock I still had an hour.

Anticipation hung in the air like heavy garlic. Then I saw the suitcases.

Nate followed my gaze and said, "Don't worry kiddo. They're not throwing you out."

Mom frowned at Nate. "Don't be ridiculous." She gave me that reassuring smile that meant something bad was coming. "Your Dad and I are going on a trip for a few days."

Dad leaned forward and said, "Special assignment for my job."

I stared. He was a custodian not a secret agent. "What kind of special assignment?" I managed to croak.

"Government regulations..." Dad began.

Nate interrupted. "Believe it or not, he has to be certified to be a custodian."

"Maintenance Engineer," Dad corrected. "The school received notice about the requirement. They were going to replace me, but we compromised. They are paying for the three days of classes. We're taking care of the travel expenses."

"But why is Mom going?"

"We're staying with Mom's sister, Judy. We decided to make it a mini vacation and stay the weekend. They can do the girl thing during the day and Judy will show us the sights in the evening and over the weekend."

"Looks like it's just you and me," Nate said with a grin.

My backpack slipped through my fingers and landed with a soft slap on the floor.

"I'll be around to help with meals," Des said.

At least I wouldn't starve. "When do you leave?"

"First thing tomorrow morning," Mom said. "We'll be gone before you get up for school."

"Great," I muttered.

Taking my feeble response as encouragement, Dad clasped his hands together. "Well, now that we have that settled, how about I share the next chapter in my book?"

"No way." I turned my back to hide my frustration. Dad was living in fantasyland. He and Mom were deserting me. I would be stuck with Nate and have to survive on creepy vegetarian dishes.

A crazy blogger had the school buzzing with Bigfoot mania. All I needed now was for Bigfoot to move into the backyard and grant interviews to Gen.

I reached the door and stopped. The videos had been using information from Dad's book. I had to hear the next chapter. I turned back and saw Dad's hopeful eyes.

"Okay." My voice sounded too harsh. I forced a smile. "Read on." I ate scraps of cold lasagna while Dad read.

With his new ID, Jacques made his way from city to city working for quick cash. He got pretty good at finding places like Joe's uniform service that didn't ask too many questions.

After a month he finally felt confident enough to take a steady job at the corner _We Change Oil_ shop. With the first paycheck he paid for a rundown, cramped apartment and furnished it with pieces from yard sales.

Eight hours of grease and oil left him craving fresh air. He headed for the park. The blue reflective lens of his dollar store sunglasses gave him a feeling of anonymity.

He settled onto his customary bench. An old man and woman shuffled down the walk holding hands. Both faces were filled with wrinkles and framed with thin wispy hair.

"May I join you?"

Startled, Jacques snapped his focus away from the couple. A young woman stood before him. An uneasy feeling tugged at his subconscious.

"Do I know you?" His voice was cold and suspicious.

An amused smile, almost a smirk touched her lips. "I believe we have met."

The voice and the eyes were tantalizingly familiar. His mind sifted through memories.

"Jacques," she said accusingly, "it's me."

He took off the sunglasses. "Jillian?" She was so young.

She laughed at his confusion. "I was at the pool four days before you." She sat down. "I too saw the wisdom of acquiring a new ID. Don't you think we should join forces?"

Jacques stared in stunned silence. She had beat him to the pool and then tracked him down. With resignation he nodded.

To Jacques amazement she pulled a laptop out of her bag.

"Where did you get a computer?" he asked.

"The university gave them to us last year. Don't you remember?" Then she sucked in her breath. Her voice was soft and concerned. "Did you lose your memory when you lost your old age?"

Jacques snorted. "I lost access to my house and office when I lost my old age. How did you get into your house?"

"Just used the key and walked in."

"Weren't they looking for you?"

She shook her head puzzled and then he saw understanding appear in her eyes. "Oh," she said, "the hospital. Of course they would be looking for you."

He gave her a brief run down on his survival ending with a wry description of his efficiency apartment. "Where are you living?"

Her face flushed. "Uh, Walmart."

"Excuse me, did you say Walmart? What do you do, sleep in the furniture section?"

"No, the parking lot. In my brother's pickup truck, complete with homemade camper on the back."

"So what tipped you off that the university was looking for you too?"

"Peter. We'd been corresponding through email. When the news broke about the impostor at the hospital, he started asking about you."

Jacques stomach tightened.

"Once he was convinced it was really you in the hospital, he guessed that we had found some kind of fountain of youth."

"So that's when you quit emailing?"

She blushed. "I wasn't as careful as I should have been. I was outside a café using their WIFI when a sedan pulled up. Two men got out scanning the area. Fortunately the café was crowded. I jumped off the Internet and pulled up a spreadsheet. That was the end of email with Peter."

"So do you have GPS coordinates for the pool?"

"Do you?"

For a long moment they stared at each other and the tension was tangible.

Then together they shook their heads no.

"Then neither of us knows where the pool is."

"But will our pursuers believe that?"

"Even if they do, they would want endless tissue samples to try to figure out how the water worked. We'd never be free of their tests."

Just like Jacques I felt my stomach tighten. In the video George said Jack and Jill had disappeared and were on the run.

"That's great, Dad." My voice had a slight quaver. "When did you write that?"

"Last night. The creative juices were flowing so I burnt the proverbial midnight oil."

Mom said, "Speaking of midnight oil, we need to get to bed early tonight. It's going to be a long drive and a stressful day tomorrow."

Nate grinned. "And you have school tomorrow, kiddo. So it's homework and bed for you too."

I grimaced but refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. The rest of the week was going to really drag.

I picked up my backpack. "Have a good trip," I said.

I trudged up to my room and flopped on the bed. A faint hum of voices continued in the kitchen. Probably giving Nate last minute instructions. Not that it would do any good. He obviously had already settled in to his role as caretaker of the zoo. I needed fortification. No, I needed backup.

I grabbed my phone. _We need a plan_ I typed.

Gen's response was immediate. _My back porch_.

I padded down the stairs and listened. They were all still in the kitchen. No one noticed as I pulled my jacket from the hook and slipped past the doorway. The front door made a soft click as I pushed it shut behind me.

Cold air with a hint of frost hit my face. Leaves rustled as I ran across the grass and vaulted the fence. Darkness was already settling over Gen's tree shaded yard.

A shadow separated from her back porch and waved. I dashed up the steps and dropped into a purple plastic chair. Gen pulled up another one. Like a choreographed skit, without a word we propped our feet on the railing and leaned back.

Gen scrolled through screens on her phone. The last George video played softly.

Life used to be simple. Now Bigfoot was running through our woods, my dad was turning into a permanent fixture at my school, and Nate was in charge of my life.

"What are we going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I never expected this. Life is so unfair."

"How long do you think it will be?"

"Close to a week." I closed my eyes with a groan as I thought about a week of Nate.

"That long?"

"That's what Dad said."

Gen thumped her chair down and looked at me. "Your dad? How did your dad get involved?"

"Government. New regulations."

"They're regulating Bigfoot?"

I opened my eyes. "Who said anything about Bigfoot?"

"You did."

"I did not."

"Cody Monroe, did you not send me a text saying we needed a plan?"

"Well, yes but..."

"A way to protect Bigfoot right? Who needs a plan more than Bigfoot?"

I stared at her and finally it got through the fog in my brain that I hadn't told her. "I do," I said. "My parents are going out of town for the rest of the week and leaving me with Nate."

Her eyes got big and her hand flew over her mouth. "Oh," she said softly.

It took me a while, but I finally managed to fill her in.

We sat in silence. A cricket chirped under the porch. Minutes passed. The lonely sound of the cricket's call morphed into the hum of Gen's phone.

I leaned over and looked at the screen. "What is that?"

"A new video," she said.

"Start it over."

Music played as a Google car drove onto the screen. The camera zoomed in on the driver. A man in sunglasses about Nate's age was driving. He turned his head and George's big grin was reflected in the blue lens.

"George Roge here. Tracking Tomorrow's History Now. I'm traveling with the illusive Jack Fontaine. I found him driving the Google car down the back streets of small town America. Nice disguise, Jack."

The young man smiled. "Hiding in plain sight. But by the time this hits the web, I will have moved on."

"But this is a nice little town to drive through right now," George said. The camera swung to the street as George began a narrative of the sights. "We're passing the We Change Oil shop, Joe's Laundromat, University Hospital, and...wait. Wait. What is that?"

The camera zoomed in on a gorilla dancing outside a store. It howled when it saw the car, and ran inside.

"Stop the car! It's Bigfoot!" George said.

"Not necessary," Jack said. "Read the marquee over the door."

"Howling Good Costumes," George read. "And that, friends, is why we need an expert with us."

The camera swung back to Jack who gave him an indulgent smile. As the light faded, the figure of the gorilla standing in the doorway was reflected in his glasses.

The cricket chirped under the porch and I shivered.

"That's Main Street," Gen said softly. "That's our town."

"It just doesn't make sense," I said.

She shrugged. "Why not? A Google Car could easily come through here."

"Of course it could. But those are all places Dad used in his book."

"Okay, so your dad used landmarks from Main Street. So?"

"Don't you get it? Jack – Jacques."

She looked puzzled.

"The guy driving the car. He's just a fictional character in Dad's book. He can't drive through town."

"Your dad must have based the character on Jack. Let's check Google Earth."

She started scanning her phone. I was stunned. Not only did she believe Bigfoot was real. She believed Jacques was a real person.

"Look," she said. "Here's the costume shop on Main Street. And there he is."

"Jack?"

"No, silly. The gorilla." She held out her phone and zoomed in on the Howling Good Costumes shop. The person in the gorilla costume was halfway through the door looking over its shoulder at the camera for all the world to see.

### Chapter 13

I woke in the darkness to the sound of soft voices in the hall. The clock's red glow showed 5:00 a.m. Mom and Dad were leaving. The whispering faded and I slipped back into sleep.

It was several hours later when I made my way down the stairs for breakfast. I was surprised to still hear people talking, but it was only the television. Nate was glued to the screen. Without turning around he said, "Cereal is on the table."

I filled my bowl and stood behind him. "Must be something really good." I said.

"Shhh." He waved a hand at me.

With my mouth full I said, "You're watching the morning news show?"

Nate grunted. Three people in business suits sat around a desk. I guessed they were discussing the stock market.

One of the commentators said, "I admit the videos are cute, but you can't take this guy seriously. He's a YouTube star not a reporter."

Another laughed. "His videos have gone viral. Everyone is watching them."

The third guy said, "Let's take a look at one more video."

The wall behind them lit up and the Cheerios stuck in my throat. My eyes watered as I tried to swallow. Six frames filled the screen. George's reports.

I watched mesmerized as the cursor floated across them and clicked on the last video. The cheesy music began and there was the Google Car. When it ended they cut to a commercial.

I coughed. Nate took one look at me and clicked off the television.

I turned and made a hasty retreat to the kitchen.

"Hold on kiddo," Nate called. In one bound he filled the doorway. "What's going on?"

I shrugged. "I just inhaled my cereal." I rinsed the bowl and put it in the dishwasher.

"What do you know about those videos?"

I was trapped, and not just because Nate blocked the doorway. He was the last person I wanted to talk to about Bigfoot.

"Come on Cody. Those videos have Dad's book all through them. Who is this George Roge guy? If you know something, spill it."

Maybe it would be good to have an adult involved, even if it was Nate. With resignation I pulled out a chair and sat down.

Nate leaned on one of the other chairs. "I'm listening."

"I don't know who he is. The videos just started showing up a few days ago. We didn't figure out it was Dad's book until last night."

"We?"

First mistake. I didn't want to drag Gen into this. I decided to try another angle. "Everyone at school is talking about them."

"The whole school knows about Dad's book?"

"No, no. They're just talking about Bigfoot."

Nate stood up. "What about Bigfoot?"

"You know. Like the videos say. He's living in the woods."

Nate's face paled. "That's stupid. Everyone knows Bigfoot doesn't exist."

"Well, something is out in the woods." I knew I should shut up, but I couldn't stop. "I've seen it."

"You just imagined it," Nate said.

I felt my face flush with anger. "Imagine! Imagine?" My voice rose until I was shouting. "Well you're wrong. Bigfoot _is_ in the woods. George Roge does know about Dad's book. The Google Car did come through our town. And there's even a picture of the costume shop with the guy in the gorilla costume going in the door."

Nate collapsed into the chair.

Without looking back I brushed past him, grabbed my backpack, and slammed the front door on the way out.

Gen was quiet while I ranted about my encounter with Nate. We were halfway to school before I ran out of steam. I felt as if I'd just run a mile in the middle of summer.

Gen stopped outside Harry's. "We have time," she said. "Let's grab a soda."

I followed her inside. Harry waved from his usual spot behind the high counter. A man with a camera slung over his shoulder poured coffee from one of the gourmet pots.

The cooler had not been restocked. I took out the root beers. Wiping them off, I glanced up at the news crawler. My stomach flipped. The moving words proclaimed _Bigfoot sightings in small town_.

I turned. Harry was staring at me. Our eyes met. For the first time I think he really saw me. His eyes briefly darted to the news crawler, then dropped to the cameraman.

He wasn't one of the regulars. Setting his coffee and paper on the counter he said, "I'm looking for Main Street."

"You're on it," Harry said, his fingers flying over the cash register keys. "Anything in particular?"

"Laundromat, oil change shop, costume outlet?"

Harry pushed up his glasses. His magnified eyes fastened on the man's face.

The man shifted in agitation. "Heard you might have a Bigfoot sighting in the area."

Harry stared at him for a minute, and then began to chuckle. Handing the man his change he said, "I get some strange customers, but haven't seen Bigfoot. Maybe he doesn't like my coffee."

The man dropped a business card on the counter. "If you can give me any leads, I'll mention your place. Good advertising." He turned and hurried out.

Gen stepped up to the counter and snatched the card. She narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Don't you tell him anything."

Harry winked at her. "Wouldn't dream of it." He held up his hand and crossed his fingers. "Bigfoot and I are like that."

Gen frowned. "We don't want anyone nosing around here." She stuffed the card into her pocket and marched outside.

Harry raised his eyebrows at me and I knew we had bonded. "That wasn't the first stranger asking questions today," he said. I nodded, gave him my money, and hurried after Gen.

She held the business card in her hand. "He's from out of town," she said. "A freelance photographer. We have to get to Bigfoot."

She stepped off the curb. I jerked her back as a horn blared and a wave of exhaust swept over us. Howling college kids stuffed into a jeep roared past. A Bigfoot flag the size of a minivan flapped out the back and just missed snapping me in the face. As the jeep disappeared around the corner I read the bumper sticker. _Follow the Footprints_.

Gen's fingers dug into my arm. "They're coming in from out of state. We need to do something."

"Like what? We have to go to school."

"Get real. We can't go to school. We have to protect Bigfoot from them."

"But who's going to protect us from Bigfoot?"

"We have to warn him," she said.

"Warn him? Like, hey big boy it's time to pack up and get out of town?"

Her mouth tightened in a stubborn line.

"He'll be all right, Gen. You read the stories. He's been avoiding contact forever. He's good at it."

I started walking. She followed in silence, but I could feel the steam building up. I was downing the last drop of soda when she grabbed my arm. Root beer spilled down my jacket. What was left in my mouth went down wrong. For the second time that morning I coughed and sputtered. She jerked me around and pointed.

Through blurry eyes I saw a van with multiple antennas. Black letters on the side read _Valley News_.

Before I could catch my breath to respond, a tour bus with a bored driver cruised past. Gray-haired men and women armed with cameras gazed out the windows with eager grins.

"Cryptid Hunters Ltd," Gen read the side of the bus. "It's heading toward the school." She broke into a run and I dashed after her.

Minutes later we rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. The tour bus had parked a block away from the school. The side of the bus twinkled with flashes of light as seniors with cameras crowded the windows.

"Are they really taking pictures of the school?" I asked. "Is that legal?"

"Ask them." She pointed to police cars in the parking lot. An officer was setting up cones and yelling at the driver to move the bus. Another policeman waved kids in to the school.

Gen stepped behind a delivery truck and pulled me beside her. "This way," she said.

Ducking behind the line of parked cars we crept to the outskirts of the parking lot behind the school.

Yellow caution tape roped off the fence. Cones lined the parking lot.

"Now what?" I asked.

"It's perfect," she said. "That keeps everyone out."

"Including us."

She shook her head with determination. "You'll just have to make a distraction while I climb over the fence."

"You're not going in there alone."

"You have a better idea?"

I did, but I was reluctant to share it. I tried again to convince her to give it up. "We could go to school and forget this whole thing."

"I'm waiting for your better idea."

I was sure I would regret it, but there was no way to stop her. I couldn't let her go alone. "I know another way."

Her face lit up. "You do?"

"Follow me." I wasn't worried about getting in. It was getting out that had me concerned.

### Chapter 14

We stood in front of the culvert where it ran under the fence. The last time I came through that hole was to escape Bigfoot. I never thought I would be using it to find him.

She bent down and peered through. "Are there spiders or crickets?" she asked.

I stared. She wasn't afraid of Bigfoot, but spiders and crickets were making her hesitate? I shook my head in disbelief.

She took that to mean it was clear of bugs. "Okay," she said, "but you go first."

My chance to be the hero. I crouched and sidled through, feeling something like a spider myself.

She emerged on my heels and spun around in front of me. "Anything on me?" she asked.

I made a pretense of checking and said, "All clear."

We made our way down the dry gully to the footbridge. Gen paused to look up the steep bank. For a moment I thought she was going to give up. Instead she began grabbing handfuls of weeds and pulling herself up the bank. There was no time to think about it. I began clawing my way up after her.

A few minutes later we stood panting on the footbridge.

"Which way?" She asked.

I pointed to the right. "That's the way to the teepee and probably Bigfoot's lair. The other way leads to safety and the comforts of civilization."

She gave me a get serious look. "Bigfoot doesn't have a lair. He's a not a dragon."

As I expected, she chose the path of danger. When we came to the fork she stopped and said, "Which way..."

"Shh," I interrupted and pulled her back into the shadows. "Listen," I whispered.

I could see the tree where my backpack had hung and just beyond it the school fence. Voices were shouting and one rose above the others.

"Hey! There's something moving in the woods."

"Where?"

"Over there."

Gen grabbed my hand and yanked me up the path. We crouched over and scuttled through the trees like foxes evading the hounds.

"There it goes!" The voice shouted after us. Feet pounded toward the fence and the chain links rattled. We sprinted for cover leaving the voices and the school behind.

The path led us deeper into the woods. Through the branches I caught glimpses of a gray sky. The air turned chilly and damp.

Gen paused and pointed to where a faint trail branched off. "Should we try this way?"

I shook my head. "The teepee is on the main path. We should be there soon."

"Then we should be extra quiet," Gen said. "We don't want to startle him."

I didn't even want to meet him. To my relief I heard more voices, and they didn't sound alarmed.

Gen stopped and I stumbled into her with a gasp.

She clapped a hand over my mouth. "Shh. You're awfully clumsy."

The voices distracted me from coming up with a clever reply. There was something familiar about them. I took a couple steps forward. A woman was talking, her voice rising and falling musically, but I could only catch a few words.

"...police...fence...around the school..."

The man's voice interrupted. "On YouTube...book...Cody..."

The woman laughed. Recognition and indignation flooded through me. I took only two determined steps before Gen grabbed my arm.

I twisted around to face her. "Nate," I said, my voice tight. "That's Nate and Des in the teepee and they're laughing."

"I know," she said. "And we're supposed to be in school. You don't want to have it out with him with that kind of disadvantage hanging over your head.

While I stood debating this in my mind, Gen continued. "There'll be plenty of time tonight to talk to Nate when you're more in control."

"You think I'm not in control?"

She giggled and pulled on my arm. "Let's go around the other way. We can try that other path."

I trudged behind her rehearsing in my mind all the things I wanted to say to Nate. I was just warming to my arguments when we arrived. The path looked more like a squirrel trail than a walkway. It was too narrow for Bigfoot to travel.

"Doesn't look like..." I stopped.

"Like what?"

"Um...doesn't look like a bad choice." I plunged in before she could question me further.

The narrow trail forced us to walk single file. Wispy weeds and flowers on tall slender stalks leaned across the path. They pulled at us as if trying to warn us away.

Someone had been using the trail. Trodden down grass and prints of different sizes showed in the soft earth. No barefoot tracks of gigantic size, just shoe prints.

We came to the creek. A stone bridge spanned the shallow water. Gen pushed past me and rushed onto the bridge.

"This is great," she called back. "Once we cross the creek, we're in his territory."

So much for the comfort of feeling the way was safe.

Gen now took the lead and I tried to keep up. I was busy watching my feet and almost ran into her again when she came to a sudden stop.

"What's up?" I asked.

"It divides. We have a choice which way to go."

I leaned around her and pointed left. "I vote for that way."

She overruled me. "The creek runs to the right. Last time we saw him by the water. Let's follow it. Quietly now."

We hadn't gone far when the path widened, and we came to a clearing. I grabbed her arm before she could charge into the open.

"Let's take it slow," I said softly.

"Don't you see it?" she said.

"What?" I scanned the area expecting to see a large fury animal staring back. All I saw were huge trees.

"There," she pointed up. "It's a nest in the tree."

There was something there all right. "More like a treehouse," I said.

She turned to me in surprise. "You think he built a treehouse?"

I smiled, not wanting to dash her enthusiasm. "Let's go see."

The grass muffled our steps, but I couldn't help feeling we were being watched. We reached the massive oak. The structure sat about twenty feet above us in a tangle of thick branches. Brittle leaves still clung to the tree, rattling and twisting in the damp air. I caught a glimpse of a weathered plank.

Gen reached toward a twisted vine hanging from one of the lower limbs.

"Wait," I said.

But her fingers had already closed around it and pulled. Something fell from above, clattering through the branches and bringing with it a shower of dirt and leaves. I shoved Gen and jumped aside. It jerked to a stop about a foot above the ground. A robe ladder with wooden rungs.

Gen grinned and struggled to her feet. "Looks like an invitation."

"But to what?"

Her eyes sparkled. "Only one way to find out."

I tugged on the ladder. It seemed firmly anchored somewhere high above. At least it didn't look like it had been made by Bigfoot. Placing my foot on the bottom rung I attempted to climb.

"Careful," she said, and grabbed me around the waist. The ladder twisted and turned as if alive, knocking us against the tree.

"Oof," she said, letting go and falling in the leaves. "Ow!"

"You okay?" I said. My elbow scraped on the hard bark and I jumped down.

She pushed the leaves aside and held up a metal hook. With a grimace she said, "That's a fine thing to leave lying around."

I grinned. "It's the perfect thing."

"For what?" She ran her hand through the leaves. "There's a cord attached. It's tied to a stake." Looking up with dismay she asked, "Is this a trap for some unsuspecting little animal?" Immediately she tried to pull up the stake.

"Stop," I said. "I took the hook from her and looped if over the bottom rung. "It's to hold the ladder steady."

"Oh," she said. Trying to get her dignity back she stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans.

This time it held steady and I made good time up the tree. I could feel her weight on the ladder behind me. Swinging my leg over the last branch I stepped onto a wooden platform. The floor trembled as Gen joined me.

"Careful," I said. "It gets dark farther in."

"Bigfoot probably has good night vision. Many wild creatures do."

Across from us the thick branches formed a protective wall creating pockets of deep shadow. I hoped the creature wasn't watching us from some dark corner.

Bits of light crept through cracks in the tangles casting a dappled mixture of soft yellows and blues on the floor. The colors quivered on the rough wood in a dizzying dance.

Cool air rustled through the leaves. A soft tinkling sound made the hair on my neck stand up. The whole structure stirred and seemed to breathe. Gen's fingers tightened around my arm. I stepped forward.

Tiny fingers combed through my hair. I yelled and grabbed at my head.

Gen's answering scream echoed in my ear. Her fingers dug in to my arm so hard I was sure she drew blood.

"Let go," I pleaded. My waving hand passed through a web, and a loud racket of musical notes erupted. Flashes of color swirled around us. I jerked my hand down and ducked aside. My eyes searched the room and focused on strings of crystals hanging from a branch. They dangled from thin sticks, bouncing and colliding together.

Gen slowed their motion. "It's a mobile," she said. "How would Bigfoot get a mobile?"

"I don't think this is Bigfoot's house."

"No? Why not?"

I pointed to the mobile. "Des made that last semester in one of her classes."

"Des?"

I nodded. "One of those modern art classes."

Now that my eyes had adjusted to the dim light I could distinguish other objects in the room. Gen headed for two nondescript lumps on the floor. She flopped down on one, and it crackled under her weight.

"Bean bag chairs," she said and picked up a handful of magazines from the floor. The bag crackled as she leaned back and rested the magazines on her bent knees. "Let's see what Bigfoot is reading these days." She leafed through the assortment. "Cooking, stock market success, herbal lore, practical investing."

"Sounds like he's moved beyond hunting and gathering," I said.

"We're not talking about Bigfoot are we?"

I shook my head as I walked around the room. "Mr. Practical. Making fun of me and all the time he had a treehouse."

"It might be just a coincidence," Gen said. "Maybe Des gave the mobile to someone."

"And all their magazines too?"

She shrugged.

I stopped in front of an old crate pushed up against the wall. A small case with a glass door had been wedged into a notch above it. Through the grimy glass I could see the shadow of a figure.

The shape was familiar. My stomach soured with foreboding. The floor quivered as Gen came up behind me.

"Maybe we shouldn't be here." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Stepping on the crate I leaned toward the glass door.

"Cody..."

My mouth tightened. Indignation flooded through me. With fierce resolve I yanked open the door. A soft bundle tumbled out. It landed against my neck and Gen gasped.

The floor rocked as I jumped down from the crate. I pulled the furry mass from my neck and held it toward her. "My toy wookie."

She stroked the fur. "It's just the way I remember it. The case kept it clean and dry. Like it was in suspended animation."

"I never knew what happened to it," I said. "When I came home from school one day it was gone. Nate claimed it went to live in the woods. I knew that was wrong. It would have said goodbye. When I was older I realized it must had gotten thrown away."

I tucked the soft figure inside my coat. It wouldn't all fit and the head stuck out gazing defiantly at the world.

"That just leaves the crate," Gen said.

She knelt down and slid the lid off. Together we leaned over and looked in.

"It's a pile of fur," Gen said. She was slipping into her role as Protector of All Things Furry.

I stirred through the pile and lifted out a hairy head with empty eye sockets."

Gen cringed and scrambled away from the crate.

"It's a costume." I showed her the tag inside the head. "Made in China."

She frowned and pulled out the rest of the fur. "Gorilla," she said.

"Now what do you suppose Nate would be doing in the woods with a gorilla costume?" I asked.

"Protecting his territory?"

"Humph. Half the town is looking for Bigfoot, and it's Nate."

Faint laugher drifted up from below. Gen stuffed the costume back into the crate and slid the lid back in place. "I hope that's not the whole school coming."

Together we crept to the platform edge and looked over. The wind had picked up and was moving the branches. "I didn't realize we were so high," I said.

In summer the only thing visible from our perch would have been the tops of other trees. But most of the leaves had fallen now. We could see the path and all the way to the creek.

"There," Gen said pointing to where two figures stood on the other side of the creek. It was Nate and Des. "That's where we first saw Bigfoot."

"You mean Nate."

She nodded. "He could see everything from up here."

We stood to our feet. The platform jiggled with the sudden movement.

"Careful," she said.

I grabbed a branch for support. My fingers tightened on a smooth surface. It was polished and white. Not part of the tree at all. Almost like....

"It's the horns," I said, "and they are attached to a line."

My eyes followed the cable. It angled toward the ground, passing through branches of nearby trees and stopping on our side of the creek.

"A zip line," Gen said. "He used the horns to ride down the zip line."

Nate and Des were picking their way across the stream. When they reached our side they looked toward the treehouse and laughed.

The laugher blocked out everything.

For years Nate had been laughing at me. Well, no more. A burst of cold wind whipped around me. I shifted for balance and realized I was still holding the gorilla head.

"It's going to be tricky climbing down that ladder in this wind," Gen said.

I slammed on the gorilla head to free both hands. It settled onto my shoulders and I stared out through the eyes. Nate's eyes.

Gen's muffled voice chided me. "Take that off. We have to climb down."

A gust came from the other side pushing against us. I crouched to get a better view through the branches.

"What are you doing?" Gen yelled.

Her weight fell against me as she threw her arms over my shoulders. In panic my fingers tightened on the horns. I tried to balance her weight. We wavered on the edge.

A sickening click sent a wave a fear through me. The lock released. Our screams mingled together as I flew down the zip line with Gen clinging to my back.

### Chapter 15

We were going to die. The ground rushed toward us. Shouts rose. I couldn't see through the eyeholes. We crashed into something softer than I had expected. Before I could catch my breath we were jolting over hard ground.

Gen's grip tore loose. The gorilla head flew off. Blurred images of tree branches flashed past. The rough ground clawed at me. I bounced over gravel and stones and landed on my back.

Gasping for breath, I opened my eyes. The trunks of tall trees reached into a darkening sky. Large branches swayed in agitated motion. The wind littered the air with dead leaves. I groaned and rolled onto my side.

The toy wookie leaned against a rock while the leaves swirled around it in the cold air. It gave me a reproachful look.

Nate's face came into view. "You okay?"

I took a quick inventory and decided nothing was broken or hurting too badly. I nodded. "How's Gen?"

"Gen's fine, but I think you gave me a black eye when you crashed into me." The wind whipped his hair around giving him a mad scientist look.

I sat up. "That's the least you deserve," I said with disgust.

"What are you talking about?" Des asked.

"Him." I pointed at Nate. "You stole my wookie. You lied about it." I jumped to my feet ignoring the scratches and bruises that covered my body. "You dressed up like Bigfoot and chased me through the woods."

Gen hobbled over beside me. "The whole school knows that I think Bigfoot is living here. Half the town is ready to search the woods for him."

Des put her arm around her. Gen's voice quivered. "You made me think Bigfoot was real."

"Whoa, hold on a minute," Nate said. "I didn't steal your wookie."

"I suppose that's not your treehouse?" I said.

"Of course that's my treehouse. Well, mine and Desiree's."

"And I supposed the wookie climbed up the tree and locked himself in that case."

Nate raked his fingers through his hair and heaved a sigh. "No, I put it there."

"So you did steal it."

"Actually, I rescued it. From the trash. Mom was worried about you. She talked to one of the shrinks at work and decided it was time for you to give it up."

"Mom?" It was like a blow knocking out my anger. My face felt wet. Panic rose inside. I was crying. In front of everyone.

"It's raining guys," Des said. "Let's head for the car."

Rain. It was only rain. I hadn't humiliated myself after all. I turned to see Des scoop up the wookie. She was like an elven princess who had called down the rain just for me. Her dark hair moved in the breeze, caressing her flushed cheeks. Concern filled her eyes as she tried to use her sweater to shield the wookie from the rain.

"Here, let me take that," Gen said. The spell was broken as Gen took the wookie and matter-of-factly stuffed it under her coat.

Lighting flashed followed by a loud crash of thunder.

"Come on!" Nate yelled. "We can't stay under the trees."

"But is it safe to cross the creek?" Gen shouted.

"No!" he answered. "This way."

Clouds rolled across the sky blocking out the light. We stumbled after him, running up the path in the twilight.

We passed the treehouse, and took the faint path Gen and I had seen earlier. Minutes later the path ended at Nate's car. The old Chevy Impala never looked so good. We scrambled inside and slammed the doors.

Nate turned the key. The engine churned, trying to start. He paused.

The heavy rain let up. Darkness and quiet surrounded the car. Lightening flickered. Eerie glimpses of wildly waving branches flashed in and out. My skin prickled with anticipation. The light rain probed its way across the windows looking for an opening.

"Try it again," Des said. Nate reached for the key. A blinding light radiated the area. Thunder boomed. A tree splintered and crashed close behind us. The car rocked with the impact. Rain returned with a vengeance, pelting the metal roof in a deafening roar.

I held my breath as Nate turned the key. This time the engine roared to life. He dropped it into gear, and the car jumped forward.

We jostled and bumped over debris and potholes for several feet before lurching onto the paved road.

Even with the headlights on and the wipers at full tilt, it was like driving through a raging waterfall.

Gen took my hand. I couldn't see her face, but her fingers were cold and wet. We were all soaked. Nate's car wasn't going to be the same after this little trip, but I didn't care. I squeezed Gen's hand as we pulled into the driveway.

We raced to the porch and stood shivering while Nate unlocked the door. Like a comedy team we all tried to push through at the same time. Muttering and stubbing our toes we managed to get in and slam the door.

After the roar of the storm, the silence inside the house was uncanny. We stood dripping on the floor. The dark room matched my gloomy thoughts.

Des was the first to snap out of it. She slipped an arm around Gen and said, "Come on upstairs. Let's get dried off. You can call your parents and let them know you're okay."

They headed for Mom and Dad's bathroom leaving a trail of wet footprints on the stairs.

Nate and I stood in silence. His old jacket sagged like a furry mat and smelled like he'd been wearing it in the woods. Which he had been.

"Why'd you do it?" I asked.

"Take your wookie?"

I shook my head. "You told me that. Why'd you dress up like Bigfoot and chase us through the woods?"

"It's my job."

I wasn't sure, but he sounded embarrassed. "Your job is scaring kids?"

"No, my job is dressing up. I'm an advertisement." His voice dropped lower. "You know. One of those guys who stands outside and waves people into the store."

"Your store is in the woods?"

He sighed. "Of course not. I work for Howling Good Costumes on Main Street. Remember the picture of the gorilla in front of the costume store from the Google car? That was me. Now it's on the web. "

I puzzled through this information for a minute. "Okay. So why were you in the woods?"

He rubbed his temples, not answering right away. His hands dropped to his sides. "I put the costume on in the woods so no one knows it's me. Only Des knows. She drops me off and I go in through the alley. I only chased you to keep you from coming back."

"You could have told me. We used to be friends."

I crossed the room and flipped on the light. He looked old and tired. And wet. My conscience got the better of me.

"Come on. We need to get dried off too."

After cleaning up we came back downstairs. The smell of hot bread led us to the kitchen where Des and Gen were setting out bowls of soup and hot crescent rolls.

"Are those packaged rolls?" I asked in surprise.

Des raised her eyebrows. "I just escaped a torrential life threatening storm, and you want me to whip up rolls from scratch?"

"I made the soup from a can," Gen said.

Nate pulled up a chair. "Let's not argue with the women."

He was right. I felt better after eating. I was still sorting things out in my head when Gen spoke up.

"So how does the teepee fit in? Does Ms. Kendrick know that Bigfoot is a fake?"

Nate and Des exchanged a parent look.

I tapped my spoon on the side of my bowl and they both turned toward me. "None of that what-do-we-tell-the-kids-stuff, okay? Just level with us."

Des smiled. "Okay. I get my herbs from Ms. Kendrick. She plants them in the woods and knows when to harvest them. They're always fresher and more flavorful than what I can buy in the store."

"But does she know about Bigfoot?" Gen asked.

Nate shrugged. "I'm not sure what she knows about the legendary Bigfoot, but she's aware of my impersonation."

Gen slumped back in her chair. "So much for teaching us to believe in possibilities."

"She believes..." Des began, when the phone rang.

Nate picked it up. It was Dad. The call didn't last long. After Nate told him we were fine, there was a long stretch where I could hear Dad's voice through the receiver but couldn't make out the words. Then abruptly his voice stopped.

"Dad? Dad?" Nate said. He hung up and tried calling back. "No connection. He said the storm was spread over several states. Apparently it was worse there than it is here. The power must have gone out while he was talking."

"Are they okay?" I asked.

Nate nodded. "He said not to worry. They have everything they need. So we're still on our own for a few days."

Gen pulled out her cell phone and flipped through the screens. "Cell service and Internet are still working here," she said. Her finger paused over the screen. She looked up and locked eyes with me. "He's back. There's a George update."

"George?" Des said.

Gen rolled her eyes and her voice was skeptical. "The Bigfoot blogger? I suppose you're going to tell us you don't know about George."

Des looked confused.

"I know about George," Nate said.

"Show Des the clips," I said.

Gen tapped the screen and handed the phone to Des. She watched the first one, then looked up at Nate. "That's our video," she said.

"Are you sure?" He leaned over to see the phone.

"It's been enhanced, but it's ours." She paused the screen. "There," she said. "There's the misspelled no trespassing sign."

"I told you it was our woods," Gen whispered.

"But how did this guy get our video?" Des asked.

Nate shrugged. "Play the rest."

We waited while they watched the others. When the new one came up, the rest of us leaned in to see the latest installment.

George appeared, eating a cupcake.

"Yumm," he said. Crumbs cascaded from his fingertips. "You wouldn't think a cake called Indian Corn Spice would taste so sweet."

A cry of outrage burst from Desiree. I turned to see her in a whole new light. Her cheeks were purple. Her eyes flashed fury and her jaw was set. Shaking her finger at the screen she said through clenched teeth, "That's my recipe."

George was still talking "...what flavor is yours Jack?

The camera paned and zoomed in on Jack. "I think it's called Pumpkin Wood, but it certainly doesn't taste like a tree."

Des muttered, "That's mine too."

Nate's jaw dropped, and he leaned closer to the phone. "Jack looks like Dad."

"What do you mean?" I said. "He's the same age as you. Well maybe a little older, but not an old guy like Dad."

"He looks just like Dad in his college picture." Nate's voice shook slightly. "He's even wearing the same tie."

"Shhh," Gen said. "Do I need to start this over?"

"No, let it run," I said. I focused on what George was saying.

"...Jack and I are now an integral part of the Internet. Not just a few clips on YouTube. We have our own webpage."

The screen went black and the webpage url flashed on the screen in brilliant gold. George and Jack reappeared, both wearing explorer hats. The url crawled across the brims in a never-ending circle.

"We'll explore the unexplained," George said.

"Add new posts," Jack said.

"You can catch up on old broadcasts."

"Stay up to date with the latest discoveries."

"Explore new recipes."

"New recipes?" Jack asked.

"That's right fans. New baking recipes."

George reached under the desk and pulled out a tiered tray filled with cupcakes.

"Amaze your friends. Invite them over to watch our videos and serve up one of our tasty treats."

He gave the tray a slight nudge and it slowly rotated as the picture faded. Des handed the phone back to Gen. Her voice had a cold edge that scared me. "Let's use the PC."

We all crowded into the computer alcove, and Nate pulled up George's webpage. It showed a picture of George and Jack sitting in a jeep. On the door it read _, Click Here to Join our Adventure_.

Nate clicked on the door. The jeep roared off over a hill and a menu appeared. A small version of George walked onto the screen and could be directed to menu items with the mouse. Des and Nate went through all the videos for the second time.

When they started through a third time, Gen began squirming. I took her into the kitchen and we brought back milk and cookies. Des munched on them, not even noticing they were store bought.

As the tier of cupcakes in the last video faded, Gen said, "Well? You're not going to watch them again are you?"

Des selected "recipes" from the menu and scrolled through half a dozen types of cupcakes. "They're all mine." She looked up at Nate. "These are all the ones we were using in the video you filmed for me."

Nate nodded. "And he's using characters from Dad's book. Jack Fontaine is not real. How can he be talking to someone who doesn't exist?"

Gen snickered. "He's riding around in a Google car with him too. And was that you in the gorilla suit?"

Nate made a face at her. "Let's stick to the topic at hand," he said. "All the videos Des and I made, everything from this computer and from Dad's laptop are stored in the family data cloud. But how would George get access?"

"I guess he could hack into it," Des said.

An idea was nagging at me. Something about Dad's laptop.

"But what could he use to get in?" Nate asked.

"A link. Like one of the social networks?" Des said.

Nate snorted. "Dad? On a social network?"

Bertram's assignment, I thought. I could hear Dad telling me to be careful with the password.

"Well what other online programs does the family use?" Des asked.

I looked at Gen and we said together, "EGOR."

Nate looked surprised. "EGOR? Like in Frankenstein?"

Gen shook her head. Taking a piece of paper she wrote in big letters, E-G-O-R. "It's a computer research program."

She held it up for him to see and it reflected in the computer screen. I stared at the mirror image as she explained the letters.

"It's an acronym for Examine, Generate, Organize, Research," she said.

I read the backward letters softly. "R-o-g-e, Roge. His name is George Roge."

Silence filled the room.

"You think George and EGOR are the same?" Gen said in a small voice.

"The name EGOR is a version of George," Des said. We looked at her blankly. "You know, like Ian and John are the same name in different cultures."

"So...George is EGOR," Nate said. "And Dad used it to research his book."

"Maybe it wasn't Dad that triggered the program," I said.

Gen's face turned pale.

"Who else was using it?" Nate asked.

"We were," I said. "Dad gave me the password for researching an assignment for Bertram." I glanced at Gen. She was looking a bit queasy. "But then we asked it about Bigfoot."

"Why would one question about Bigfoot make EGOR create George?"

"It wasn't just one question." I waited for Gen to look at me and held her eyes. "It was an ongoing dialog through e-mail." She flinched. "We," I emphasized the word, "We fed it information on Bigfoot and kept asking it to generate possible answers. I guess it generated George."

"But what about my recipes?"

"They are stored in the family cloud for the video," I said. "So are family pictures, which explains why Jack looks like Dad."

Nate ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's recap. Through our influence, the university's research program has morphed into George, a fantasy blogger who has convinced the world that Bigfoot is living in our woods. Dad is writing a book using a character that George has already made famous. Desiree is making a video about recipes she claims are original, but are already posted on George's website. Is that how you see this?"

"Yes," we all said together.

"So what do we do?" I asked.

Nate looked at his watch. "Since we can't trust the news that George tells us, maybe we should see what the real reporters are saying."

The local nightly news was typical mindless events. I could hardly keep my eyes open and was ready to call it a day. I didn't want to admit it, but I was wiped out.

Gen was packing up her stuff to go home when Desiree pointed at the television. "Looks like they're doing a piece on the storm."

"Isn't that our tree house?" Nate said. "Turn up the sound."

Two reporters in the woods stood in the rain, water dripping from their neon yellow slickers. The man was talking. "Looks like this storm is about over, Sally," he said.

"Yes, Mike. We still have some wind and a light rain, but today's storm has uncovered more than just a toppled teepee and an abandoned tree house."

Mike nodded. "For the last week we've been hearing stories about Bigfoot living right here in our woods."

"And earlier there was quite a scene at the school when locals and groups from out of town thought they had spotted the mythical creature."

"Now that would have been a Pulitzer Prize story," Mike said.

They both laughed.

"But the truth is not that sensational," Sally said.

"No, but we want to caution parents that at first glance it could be seen as gruesome by young children." He turned to Sally. "Can you lift that up for the camera?"

Sally reached behind and struggled with something. With a giggle she pulled up the rain drenched gorilla head.

"It's just part of a costume," Mike said. "Apparently someone has been using this tree house, a zip line, and a gorilla costume to create this hoax."

"Nice to know the world is a safer place because of our reporting," Sally said.

Mike smiled for the camera. "Good night folks."

The screen faded to a commercial, and Nate turned it off. His face looked glum. "The store is going to make me pay for that costume. I had other plans for that money."

### Chapter 16

I slept like a bear that had been shot with a tranquilizer gun. When I crawled out of bed in the morning, I was none too happy about getting ready for school. It took forever to find my clothes and get dressed. I was debating whether or not to make the bed when my door rattled with loud thumping.

Nate called from the hall. "At the pace you're moving it'll be noon before you're ready for the day."

"Go away," I mumbled. Yawning, I dragged the backpack over my shoulder and shuffled to the stairs. Halfway down my phone buzzed with a text from Gen.

G is bak Nu twists

As I puzzled through this, someone began pounding on the front door. Nate bounded down the stairs almost knocking me over. Des burst out of the kitchen. Both called out instructions.

"Someone get the door."

"Where's your coat?"

"Do you have your homework?"

"You'll be late for school."

"Here, you can't skip breakfast."

Before I knew what was happening I was on the porch, phone in one hand, muffin in the other. The backpack hung from one strap and my coat was slipping off my shoulder.

"Rough morning?" Gen said.

I shrugged into my coat and the pack fell on the ground. "Why?"

"Never mind. You have to see this."

She handed me her phone. A new video started playing.

George was pointing to the screen behind him where a reporter held the gorilla costume head.

"Looks like Bigfoot has been debunked again," Jack said.

The camera zoomed in on George's face. His eyes narrowed. Slowly he shook his head.

"Don't...you...believe it. There are forces trying to conceal the truth about Bigfoot. They never waste an opportunity to create doubt. But we are not fooled. Bigfoot lives!"

"And we are hot on his trail," Jack said. He placed a tier of cupcakes on the desk. Each one was decorated with an icing figure of Bigfoot.

George took one and held it to the camera. "Some of our viewers have been asking about the chef who created these marvelous delicacies. We've enhanced the link to our chef and added her picture."

"Which, I might add, has really dressed up our webpage," Jack said with a wink.

"Yes, there has been a great deal more interest," George said with a grin. "And speaking of interest, Jack has been working on a project I think our viewers will find interesting."

"Yes, I have hired an author to write my story. I'm pleased to announce that it is almost finished. I can't say more than that until a contract with a publisher is signed. We're in negotiations now."

"Jack's book is going to be a real page turner," George said. "Get the latest updates on our webpage. It's the best place to track us as we track Bigfoot. While you're there, download a recipe."

He took a big bite of the cupcake and the screen faded into a snapshot of their webpage.

I stared at the screen stunned.

Gen gently pried the phone out of my fingers. "We have to get to school," she said.

"One second." Sticking my head in the door I hollered. "Check out George's webpage. Des is on it!" I heard a crash from the kitchen, but didn't wait around. "Come on," I said to Gen.

We made it to school in record time, jogging most of the way. The bell rang as we took our seats in Ms. Kendrick's class.

"Well lookie there," Doug said in a loud whisper. "Looks like wookie boy and the elven queen made it to school today."

"Too bad about Bigfoot losing his head," Josh said.

Snickers ran around the room like lightening flashes.

The rest of the hour passed without further heckling, but I knew this was only the beginning.

When the bell rang, I took my time getting up as the other students bustled out. Gen had a determined look on her face, which I knew would only get us in deeper trouble. I wasn't in any hurry to make my way through the crowded mocking mob in the hall. Doug was waiting just outside the door with a smirk on his face.

Ms. Kendrick spoke up. "Cody and Gen I'd like to talk to you about your absence yesterday. If you'd please stay behind."

Doug's smirk faded to disappointment as Ms. Kendrick closed the door on him. She smiled at us. "Let's just let the halls clear before you head out."

"You knew Bigfoot wasn't real," Gen said. "You knew it was Nate."

Ms. Kendrick sighed. "Yes, Gen. I knew. But that doesn't mean that Bigfoot doesn't exist. It just means he's not in our woods. I'm sorry it worked out this way. I knew you would find out, but I didn't expect this."

Gen's face was flushed with crimson splotches of indignation. "The whole school thinks we're crazy," she said.

"That's often the case for people who are exceptional. Would you rather be ordinary and accepted, or have rare insight and be misunderstood?"

"Gen crossed her arms. "I'm not sure."

I tried to smooth it over. "I was sorry to hear about your teepee."

"Me too. It was a part of my childhood that I never gave up. I guess I have some reality to face too. But the teepee will remain a part of me. I hope you keep a place in your heart for Bigfoot." She handed us late passes. "And I hope you'll come to understand me."

Gen took the pass and gave her a tiny smile.

The empty halls whispered with the ghostly echoes of our footsteps. We neared Bertram's classroom. The door swung outward with a soft creak like a crypt opening. Mr. Bertram stood in the doorway with pitiful eyes. We handed over our passes and entered the mausoleum.

A foreboding silence fell over the room. Thirty pairs of eyes focused on us. The door latched with a hopeless click, sealing our doom.

"Now that we've all arrived," Bertram said softly, "we can start class. Please take your seats."

I sat down. From behind me came a soft whisper. "Glad you could make it wookie boy."

I gritted my teeth and concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Let the anger out.

Bertram broke my concentration. "Today we're going to set aside the planned lesson and discuss current events. We have a rare opportunity to see how scientific theories can be valuable to our everyday lives."

I glanced at Gen. She sat on the edge of her chair prepared for the coming storm.

Bertram leaned on the corner of his desk. "We had an unusual event yesterday. Who would like to comment on it?" Tension built as the silence lengthened. "Gen. Maybe you'd like to start."

A flush crept up her neck. I could almost see tiny sparks of nuclear fission igniting in her brain. She shook her head, no.

"You don't want to talk about Bigfoot sightings?" Doug said with a wicked grin.

Josh chuckled. "Not since he lost his head."

Several girls giggled.

Bertram said, "So we know that Bigfoot was just a hoax."

Elroy looked smug as he said, "We only know the sightings of Bigfoot were a hoax."

Bertram nodded. "Very good. Let's list the facts." He went to the board and began writing down points as they were shouted out. No one has found a body. Grainy, undefined films. Circumstantial evidence that had many other possible explanations. The list against Bigfoot grew and covered the board.

Bertram filled in the last open spot and turned to face the class. "Now Gen. What does all this evidence against Bigfoot prove?"

They stared at each other. Neither blinked. Neither wavered. It was like watching a slow motion scene from a movie.

She took a deep breath. "It proves we haven't found him yet. Sir."

He smiled indulgently. "But you must admit the possibility of that happening is extremely remote."

To my surprise I heard my own voice answering. "I believe in possibilities."

The smile faded to disappointment as he turned toward me. Thirty pairs of eyes followed his gaze. My mouth went dry and I couldn't think of anything else to say.

Then a voice rescued me. "That reporter, George Roge, thinks Bigfoot is real," Elroy said.

Bertram waved his hand in dismissal. "He's a blogger, not a reporter. And he's unprofessional and highly unreliable. His sidekick's credentials don't hold up. The university where Jack supposedly teaches doesn't even exist. I wouldn't be surprised if George doesn't exist. And that whole thing with a book is just imaginary. There is no book."

"That's not true," I said.

"Now Cody, you know we can't just believe in something because we want it to be true," Bertram said.

I shook my head. "I understand about Jack's credentials. I know they don't hold up. But the book is real."

Bertram's voice took on an irritated edge. "What makes you think that?"

"I know the author."

He studied my face and I thought there was a flicker of doubt behind his eyes. He took a breath. "How..." he began, but the bell rang. A loud clanging that drowned out his question.

Gen and I were swept along with the class as everyone swarmed out of the room.

Comments and taunts followed us throughout the day, but their impact had been dulled. To my surprise I found them tedious and uninspired.

* * * * *

When I got home Nate and Des were huddled by the computer.

Des read from the screen. "It's a good recipe if you double the spices." Her voice rose in disbelief. "Double? How can they say that?"

"Never mind that one," Nate said. "The next one's better." He read. "Delightful taste. Not overdone. Refreshing to find this new chef. This recipe is one I'll use again and again."

I walked up and looked over his shoulder. "Looking for a dinner recipe?"

"We'll order pizza," Des said. "Scroll up to the next comment, Nate."

Pizza? Had I heard correctly? I was afraid to ask her to repeat it. This was a special moment. They must be looking at something pretty important. It looked like one of those pages with comments to an article. "What is it?" I asked.

"George put a link on his webpage to Desiree's stuff. Her webpage has had thousands of hits since this morning. We're on page three of the comments and they're still coming in."

"Does this mean Des is rich?"

Nate shook his head. "No money. But it's excellent advertisement."

"It will look wonderful on my resume," Des said. "Ahhh," she squealed and pointed. "Read this one."

"You're putting fingerprints on the screen," Nate said.

"Just read it." Without waiting she proceeded to read it for him. "Brilliant, undiscovered talent..."

I left them to their intoxicating reviews and went to my room to do my homework. Apparently George's hacking was working out for Des. I wasn't so sure about Dad's book.

### Chapter 17

Gen and I continued to reign as the number one school tabloid event. Three groups emerged from the chaos. The small band of dedicated Bigfoot enthusiasts. The equally small scientific crowd of hardened skeptics. That left a large crowd of spectators who enjoyed watching, and sometimes helping, Doug and Josh in their taunts against us.

A fourth group unexpectedly emerged from the spectators - those who staunchly defended our right to be wrong.

We entered Bertram's class. The hum of voices rose in pitch like a hive of swarming bees.

"Good thing it's Friday," Gen whispered as we took our seats. "Bertram's looking a little stressed."

Dark circles ringed Bertram's eyes as if he'd been up all night. He spoke to the class, but his gaze locked on me. "Let's pick up where we left off."

I met his stare, but a feeling of unease grew inside me.

Bertram continued. "The discussion was whether or not George Roge and everything surrounding him is real. I've traced George to a connection with a program called EGOR, an academic program used for research by universities across the country. I managed to put a lock on the program this morning."

I stifled a shiver. How much did Bertram know? Would this get Dad in trouble?

Bertram was still talking. "Haven't been able to shut down the EGOR webpage, but I'm working on it.

I didn't dare look at Gen. I struggled to keep my face unemotional. The rest of the class dissolved into a series of arguments using Bertram's scientific analysis. They debunked George, Bigfoot, and everything associated with them, including Gen and me.

With grim resignation we endured the rest of our classes. Finally the day ended and we could go home.

I walked through the front door and dropped my backpack on the floor. Laughter from the kitchen mixed with the heady smell of cinnamon and sweet icing. The warm yeasty fragrance of baking pastry pulled me toward the kitchen like a deer in the desert following the scent of water.

I stopped, surprised to see that the water hole was occupied. Dad hunched over his laptop like a lion over its prey.

Mom stepped away from the oven, her cheeks flushed with the heat. She held a full tray of steaming cinnamon buns.

"You're home," I said.

Her eyes sparkled and she gave me a big smile. "Yes, and tonight we celebrate."

I eyed the rolls. "I'm in favor of celebrating," I said. "Good to have you home," I added for good measure.

"We're glad to be home," Dad said, "but that's not the reason for the celebration.

I tried to sound casual. "Oh?"

Mom set the rolls down and Desiree slathered them in icing.

"Mom's leaving the night shift," Dad said. "Monday she starts on daylight."

My face broke into a big grin. "That's terrific!" I snatched up one of the rolls and took a greedy bite. Then quickly rotated the hot gooey sweetness around my mouth to keep it from burning.

"Hey!" Desiree said laughing. "Those are for after dinner."

"He's just testing them," Nate said as he entered the room. "I think you need a second opinion." He reached for the tray but Desiree caught his hand.

"One taster is plenty," she said.

Nate kissed her hand. "Your fingers are sweeter than any cinnamon roll."

I almost choked on my pastry.

"Looks like you got some interesting mail," Nate said. He dropped several letters on the table.

Dad reached over his laptop to pick them up. "These seem to be from publishers," he said.

"Isn't it rather early for publishers?" Mom asked.

He looked up surprised. "It's a rejection letter."

Nate took the letter and read it while Dad opened the next one.

"Another rejection," Dad said. "I'm beginning to feel inadequate. I'm being rejected and I haven't even submitted a manuscript yet."

A suspicious thought was growing inside me, and it was pointing toward George.

Mom opened the last one. "Rejection," she said.

Dad pushed the letters away. "I don't understand. How did they get my book?"

"Good question," Nate said.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as we all pondered this mystery.

When no one answered Dad looked around the room giving each of us a suspicious frown. "Unless one of you sent it in."

"I didn't," Nate said.

Desiree shook her head.

"Not me," I said.

"Then who?" Dad asked.

I met Nate's eyes and we answered together.

"George."

"George?" Dad said. "Who's George?"

"Come with me," Nate said, leading the way to the computer. "Let me introduce you to George Roge, a.k.a. EGOR."

"EGOR? Like in Frankenstein?" Mom asked.

Recognition filled Dad's face as he got to his feet. "EGOR. As in the University research program. Am I right?"

"Right," Nate said. "But EGOR has developed a whole new personality."

They filed into the other room. My cell phone vibrated. A text from Gen.

Cme ovr here

I had to wait until my family was immersed in George's videos, then it was simple to slip outside unnoticed. The cold air hit me. I shivered, but it was too late to go back for a coat. I raced across the yard and bounded up the steps. The door burst open before I could knock.

Gen grabbed my arm and pulled me into the warm hallway. "What took so long?"

"We were reading the mail," I said. "Dad's getting rejection letters from publishers."

"I didn't know his book was done," she said.

"It's not. We think George sent letters to the publishers."

"George!" she said. "That's why I sent the text."

"You knew George has been writing letters?"

"No. George, or rather EGOR, is in trouble."

"What kind of trouble can George be in? He's not even real. Is someone scattering his molecules through cyberspace?"

"More like shoving him in a black hole. Bertram really did shut down EGOR."

"How do you know?"

"There's a segment on the news tonight about it."

"When did you start watching the nightly news?"

"Dad's watching the news. I was doing my homework. But the TV was on and I heard them mention EGOR. Come on, how many EGORs are there?" She led the way to the living room and lowered her voice. "Remember to be quiet. Dad hates to have his show interrupted."

I nodded. We stopped in the doorway. I could see the back of the recliner and just her dad's feet dangling over the end of the footrest.

The end table held a soda, a steaming cup of coffee, a jar of peanuts, and two remote controls. Newspapers and sports magazines jammed the shelf underneath.

The giant walk-in screen dominated the far side of the room. The sports report was just finishing. The camera switched to the slimy reporter.

"Him again," I muttered.

"Shhh."

A hand reached out from the chair. I froze. The peanuts disappeared behind the cushions.

The reporter was talking. "Well, Sally, just when we thought that Bigfoot had left our little town, a new development in the story has been discovered."

"That's right, Mike. The hoax is more elaborate than just a person in a gorilla costume. Now there is evidence that puts George Roge's reputation as a news blogger in question."

"In fact," Mike continued, "George Roge may be as unreal as the creature he has been reporting on. We have evidence that he himself is nothing more than a computer generated character."

"Generated by an unauthorized user of our university's research program."

"We're not yet sure who is behind this elaborate hoax. Qualified computer technicians who specialize in virus and malware are working on the problem. It has been given top priority."

"For now the program known as EGOR, has been shut down and all the files are quarantined until they can be examined. Once they isolate the code generating this imaginary character, they can delete it."

"We'll bring you more updates as this fascinating story unravels."

Gen pulled me back into the hall. "They're going to delete him. George is not a virus."

"Well you could think of him as infecting the system..." I began.

She gave me a withering look. "He's a computer life form making use of his own cyber territory. They can't just delete him like a file you don't want anymore."

I took a deep breath. "Convincing Bertram of that is impossible."

"I thought you believed in possibilities."

"I do. But Bertram doesn't. He only believes in what fits into his scientific formulas."

"But George is one of a kind. Like an endangered species. He needs to be protected."

"A new species..." I said slowly. "That just might work." I started thinking through the scientific arguments.

"What do you mean?" She said.

"That could be an argument that might catch Bertram's attention."

Gen glanced at the clock. "The teachers are still at school for another 45 minutes. If Bertram didn't leave early he should still be there."

"I'll grab my coat and tell my parents I'll be out. Meet me in five minutes."

### Chapter 18

The school's dim deserted hallways made me anxious. I tried to walk silently, but even in sneakers the echoes announced our approach.

All the way there I had tried to organize my arguments. Bertram would only be convinced if I could present them logically.

Light from his office spilled through the open door into the hall. He sat at his computer entering data. We stepped into the pool of light.

He looked up and leaned back in his chair. "Cody and Gen. Why am I not surprised?"

I didn't answer, and he waved us inside. "Have a seat. What's on your mind?"

I sat down, but Gen leaned on the desk. Staring him in the eye she said, "You can't simply delete George."

Bertram raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Her face flushed. "It would be like shooting Bigfoot. It would be like harpooning the Loch Ness monster. It would be like...like..."

This wasn't helping. I pulled Gen back. She slumped into the other chair. An eerie calmness settled over me and I began my argument.

"We think it would be a mistake to shut down EGOR."

"Why is that?" Bertram said with a wry smile. "It is a malfunctioning program."

"Not malfunctioning," I said. "Simply functioning in a manner not indicated by known variables."

"Outside the known variables," he corrected. "That would be a malfunction."

He seemed to be enjoying this. I decided to try another approach.

"We think George may be a unique mutation that deserves study. If you shut him down, you will lose that opportunity."

"Indeed? What makes this program different from a common virus?"

Gen mumbled, "He's not a virus."

I gave her a cautionary glance, hoping she'd take the hint and be quiet. "It's not harmful. It's only doing what any life form would do," I said.

Bertram's eyes widened. "Life form? Isn't that a bit fanciful?"

I shrugged. "It learns. It grows. It's modifying its habitat. It interacts with humanity in a positive manner."

Bertram looked interested. "What makes you think that?"

"We communicated with him," Gen said.

"With George?"

"No, with EGOR," she said.

He looked amazed. "You have access to EGOR?"

"My dad does," I said. "He has a subscription to the program."

Bertram nodded. "So what are you suggesting?"

He was listening, but I had to be careful or I would lose him. "Who knows why George came to exist and if it will ever happen again. If we don't act quickly, the program will be deleted." I leaned forward. "You need to find a way for George to exist outside of EGOR."

"Why me?"

"You're the one who initiated the shut down. Don't you have access to EGOR?"

Bertram shook his head. "I merely spoke to the university. I don't have a password to EGOR. You're the one with access."

I was stunned at my stupidity. Dad's password. But how would that help? "I have access to EGOR. Not to George," I said.

"Aren't they are one and the same?" Bertram asked.

I was puzzled.

Bertram shrugged. "If George really is unique and capable of decisions as you propose, shouldn't we try to communicate?"

I watched as he typed. Was he trying to find an opportunity to destroy the program or rescue it? He turned the monitor toward us. It was the EGOR website, the entry prompt flashing on the screen. "Shall we try your password?"

Gen squeezed my arm. "Don't trust him," she whispered.

I hesitated. Dad had said to be careful with the password. But that was before we knew about George.

"How do I know you won't delete him once you have the password?"

"You don't. But doing nothing will surely result in the program being destroyed."

Gen's grip tightened on my arm. "We can go home and use your computer, Cody. We don't have to trust him."

"That's certainly an option," Bertram said. "But there's no telling how much time is left before the techies find the program."

Even without looking at Gen I could feel her resistance. I wished I could read Bertram's feelings as easily.

"You tell me you believe in possibilities," Bertram said. "Give me a reason to believe. Show me this program."

He was right. The techies could have found George already. There wasn't time to go home.

"Jack," I heard myself saying.

"Cody!" Gen hissed.

"It's okay," I said squeezing her hand. "We have to do this." I looked at Bertram. "The password is Jack."

Bertram chuckled. "That's appropriate. The name of George's explorer sidekick." He typed it in.

Rows of file cabinets in a dimly lit room appeared on the screen. A man in a fedora poked his head out from behind one of the cabinets. He tipped his hat back and scanned the area.

"Jack?" the voice was almost a whisper.

Bertram looked questioningly at me.

"It's George," I said. "He thinks you're Jack. Can he hear us?"

Bertram plugged in a cord. Adjusting the microphone he said, "George?"

"Shhh," George said. "I'm glad you've come to rescue me, but keep your voice down. They're everywhere. "

"Who are they?" Bertram said.

George threw his hands up. "I don't know. We can talk about it later. Right now we need to get out of here."

"Where to?" Bertram asked.

George looked surprised. "Your place of course. That will buy us some time. But when they find me missing, they'll be on your trail."

"Then what?"

"We'll find a new location. Set up shop outside. Let's get moving." From behind the cabinet he dragged out a box covered with postcards from exotic places. "Grab these files and I'll lock the door."

Bertram looked up at me and I shrugged. "Okay," he said with some hesitation. Then his eyes widened and he yanked out the microphone jack with a yell. "Hey! He's downloading files to my computer."

"Yes!" Gen said. "He's transferring himself into your machine to escape being deleted."

The screen changed to the inside of a small apartment with cheap, used furniture. George walked into the room and set down his briefcase. "Come on in Jack. Do you have the files?"

Bertram's fingers fumbled as he plugged in the microphone. "Yes, I have them."

"Excellent. Just put them over here in the corner. My, this is a small apartment. But we won't be here long. Now let's get some rest and then I can get busy finding us a new home."

He moved to the wall and flipped the light switch. The screen went dark. Long seconds dragged by while we waited, but the screen stayed empty and silent.

Bertram slowly reached out and unplugged the microphone. "Well, that was interesting. Now I have files on my hard drive that could be damaging my computer."

"I think he's just passing through," I said.

Bertram stared at me. "To where? The school's network? That could be hard to explain."

"He views your PC as a small apartment," Gen said. "The school network would be just a quiet neighborhood where nothing exciting happens."

I nodded. "As a news blogger he needs to be out in the big world. He'll try for one of the big sites where it will be easy to hide and there's lots going on."

Bertram's face got serious and he looked at each of us. "We can't just release this program on an unsuspecting world."

"We could start by seeing what's new on the computer," I said.

Bertram nodded. As he typed in the search criteria, Gen said, "But don't delete ANYthing."

Bertram leaned back and crossed his arms. I watched as the hourglass spun and the computer sorted through the hard drive. When it finished, only one small file was listed as new.

"It's a jpg file." I said.

"Just a picture?" Gen asked.

"Shall we open it?" Bertram said.

Gen and I nodded.

He double clicked on the file and we all leaned forward to see the picture. It was a sign in a window. It read, Partially Furnished Apartment for Rent – Cheap.

"What do you suppose that means?" Bertram said.

"George is gone," I said. "He moved out."

Gen grinned. "You don't have to worry about releasing him on the world. He's already out there."

### Chapter 19

Saturday morning started out with gloomy clouds and heavy fog. I responded by rolling over and going back to sleep.

When I finally did crawl out of bed, the weather had deteriorated to a cold, drizzly rain. I spent the day doing homework and watching television.

By evening I was stir crazy from being shut up in the house all day. I stared out the window watching the street lights come on and saw Gen running through the raindrops. I met her at the door. Amazingly she wasn't wet.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Dad's watching the news."

"Any sign of George on the net?"

She shook her head. "None. I checked all day. Do you think Bertram managed to delete him after all?"

"With us right there watching? I don't think so. Besides, I think Bertram's coming around."

"Yeah right," she said.

I opened my mouth. Before I could say anything, the front door burst open and Desiree swept in. She didn't look wet either.

"Why so glum, kiddies?" she said. Without waiting for an answer she continued. "I have just the thing. Gather the family and let's watch the news."

She danced past us into the kitchen.

Gen sighed. "I could watch the news at home."

"Must be something good," I said.

"Probably a cooking segment on how to make asparagus edible."

Des and Nate came from the kitchen carrying Dad's laptop.

"Be careful with that!" Dad said. "That's my life's work..."

Des laughed. "I'm holding it ransom. Come watch this news segment and I'll return it safely."

Nate shooed us into the living room. Mom slid over to make room for Dad on the sofa. Gen and I took up positions on the floor and Des grabbed the remote.

She flipped through the stations and stopped on the local news. "Quiet everyone," she said. "You're about to see history in the making." She turned up the volume.

Sally, the reporter, smiled at us from behind a countertop.

"Tonight we have the sweet story of one of our very own local college students who is destined for success."

The view widened and we all gasped as an elated Desiree smiled at us from the TV. Everyone started talking at once.

"Quiet!" Nate shouted. "Let's watch the piece."

The TV Des set a tier of decorated cupcakes on the counter. Sally slowly turned the display. "These look delicious," she said. "What flavors are they?"

Des began naming them. "Indian Corn Spice, Pumpkin Wood, Cranberry Carmel Pine Nut, and Maple Squash."

"My they don't sound like your typical pastry flavors."

"That's the idea," Des said laughing. "Would you like to try one?"

Sally chose one and took a bite. "Yumm. This is outrageously good. Mike," she called. "You must come and try these."

Mike stepped into the picture and began working his way through the cupcakes mumbling his appreciation through the crumbs.

Sally looked at the audience. "I'm sorry we can't share these delicious pastries with you. But we are happy to tell you that these delightful taste treats have earned Desiree a university scholarship for further study in culinary cuisine."

Mike reached for the last cupcake but Sally snatched it up first. "We have a couple of these recipes posted on our webpage that you can try. Just click on the Baking with Desiree link."

"That's right, Sally," Mike said. He reached for the cupcake, but she held it out of reach.

"We're sure that when she graduates her creations will captivate the world," Sally said. Turning her back to Mike she slowly took a big bite of the cupcake.

The show broke for a commercial. Des clicked off the TV, and our living room erupted into wild cheering and applause. Nate swung Desiree around in a hug, scattering magazines off the end table and toppling the lamp. I caught it just inches from the floor.

When the chaos finally subsided Dad said, "How did they discover your baking skills?"

Desiree laughed. "They said they were barraged by e-mails from people who had seen the recipes online. Someone recognized my picture and they tracked me down."

"George," Gen said softly.

Des smiled at her. "So it would seem."

* * * * *

When I walked out the door Monday morning Gen met me on the porch.

I knew before asking. "Any sign of George?"

She shook her head. "I thought when Des got the interview that it meant George was still around, but I can't find a trace of him. Maybe he doesn't exist anymore."

"Probably just hiding out and setting up lots of security measures. They can't get rid of him that easy."

"Hope not."

The weekend had taken the edge off the teasing frenzy at school. Even Doug and Josh were no longer putting forth their best efforts.

With nervous anticipation I entered Bertram's class. Doug made an attempt at heckling, but I only caught part of his comment. My thoughts were focused on Bertram. George had escaped him, but could he escape George? Would it change his view of possibilities?

"In our last class we used logical thinking to disprove the probability of George Roge's existence," Bertram said. "While we need facts to prove theories, scientists also have to stretch beyond known facts in order to make new discoveries. They have to ask, what if?"

He looked at Gen and his eyes crinkled with what I hoped was a smile. "What if a program became so sophisticated that it could modify itself and simulate intelligence and even personality?"

Elroy's hand shot up. "Like a humanoid robot," he said. "Or...an android."

Doug snickered. "That's stupid."

"Just movie hype," Josh said.

"Let's explore the possibilities," Bertram said.

A lively discussion took off. Several kids enthusiastically joined forces with Elroy. Their arguments even showed attempts at logic. Support for Doug and Josh, however, came from those with a strong talent for cynical jabs.

I was proud of Gen. She managed to stay out of the fray. Keeping quiet turned out to be a good plan, and we stuck to it the rest of the day. It was refreshing not to be the center of attention. When school ended we were swept out the door with the crowd. All over the schoolyard kids gathered in tight little clusters.

"They're all discussing George," she said.

I nodded. "All except those two in the bleachers."

"Who are they?" she said.

We skirted around the groups and crossed the yard. When we got closer I stopped. "I think that's Mr. Bertram and Ms. Kendrick."

"Together?" Gen sounded stunned.

"He's wearing a hat. A fedora," I said.

Mr. Bertram looked our way. I couldn't see his expression, but he tipped his hat slightly in our direction. Ms. Kendrick gave us a small wave, and they turned back to their conversation.

"Well, that's interesting," Gen said.

During the walk home it was hard not to talk about Bertram and Ms. Kendrick. But the conversation kept swinging back to wondering what had happened to George.

We stopped outside Gen's house. She said, "I'll text you if I find anything that might lead to George."

"Okay, see you tomorrow."

I grabbed the mail and went inside my house. Noise streamed from the kitchen. A mixture of sweet aromas taunted me. I paused in the doorway. Cautiously I looked in. My backpack fell to the floor followed by my coat. The kitchen had been transformed into a research laboratory.

Orderly rows of naked cupcakes crowded the table. They were ringed by bowls containing icing tinted in pink, yellow, green, blue, orange, and lavender. A selection of sprinkles, nuts, seeds, fruit, coconut, crumbled cookies, and even toasted mini marshmallows waited to be added as toppings.

Des looked up from the cupcake she was decorating. She flashed me a dazzling smile before turning back to her creations.

"Quite the display, isn't it?" Mom asked. "Desiree is perfecting her newest recipe and we've been recruited as helpers. I've been given the important task of spreading the base layer of icing."

Nate made notations on a clipboard as Desiree called out ingredients and measurements.

"What's your job, Dad?"

A thin trace of blue icing smudged his lip. He held up an empty wrapper. "Official taster."

For a moment he looked a lot like George. I pushed the thought out of my mind. "I brought in the mail," I said holding it up and looking around.

With a sticky hand, Dad took the pile and leafed through the letters. I reached for a light brown cupcake decorated with glittering white frosting and topped with a delicate yellow sugar leaf.

"No!" They all yelled together.

I jerked my hand back as if I'd narrowly escaped having my fingers bit off.

Nate gestured with the clipboard toward the counter. It was a graveyard of broken and dismembered cupcakes. "Eat those," he said.

"They look like something already has," I said.

"Not to worry," Nate said. "We used a knife to slice off bites. All very sanitary."

I went to the counter for a closer look. It must have been a very dull knife. There were crumbs everywhere. I chose a piece that looked relatively unmauled. Once I tasted it, the rest of the crumbs looked amazingly appetizing.

I was on my fifth sample when Dad yelled. Scattering crumbs on the floor, I spun around thinking I had eaten forbidden fruit.

Mom groaned. "Oh dear. I've messed this one up."

Dad looked up from the letter he was reading. I swallowed.

Des looked worried. "What is it? What's wrong? Was something in the cake that shouldn't have been?"

Dad waved the letter. "It's an offer."

"For what?" Mom asked.

"My book. It's from a publisher."

Nate took the letter and read it over. "Looks legit. What's this reference to advertising?"

"Advertising?" Mom said.

Nate read out loud. "Dear Mr. Monroe. We are in receipt of your recent submission and are very interested in the story of Jacques' adventure. We would like to discuss the possibility of publishing your book and would consider paying you an advance. Due to the amount of Internet advertising you already have in place, we feel it is important you contact us at your earliest convenience."

I met Nate's eyes. "George," we said together.

"It has to be George," I said. "All his videos have Jack in them. I have to tell Gen."

Grabbing a plate, I eyed the counter of cupcake carnage. With a spoon I scooped up some of the chunks that had sustained less damage. Ignoring the excited conversation, I snatched up my coat and ran outside.

My phone buzzed with an incoming text. With the plate in one hand and my coat in the other, there was no way to check it.

I reached Gen's house, and my phone rang. I kicked the door expecting her to yank it open.

It opened, but it wasn't Gen. A skinny man in jeans and a sweatshirt scowled down at me. His scruffy gray beard made him look like an annoyed schnauzer. Gen's dad!

I stood staring while my phone continued to ring from my pocket.

"Guenivere!" He barked. Immediately my phone stopped ringing. "Cody's here."

I jumped at the use of my name. His eyes moved from my face to the plate.

"That looks interesting. Shook them up a bit on the way over?" He pulled the plate from my grasp and popped one of the larger pieces into his mouth.

Gen looked around him and gave me a wink.

"Cody brought some..." he looked at the plate.

"Cupcakes," I said.

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed that. But they are tasty." We followed him to the living room. He disappeared into the recliner. I watched entranced as his feet appeared on the footrest. His hand emerged to set the plate on the end table. Then the bottom shelf caught my attention. There was my wookie, nestled among the newspapers with its legs stretched out and feet propped up by a magazine. It appeared to be watching television with him.

Gen gave me an impatient nudge. "Didn't you get my text?"

I shook my head. "I had my hands full. I couldn't get to the phone."

"Full of what?"

"Desiree's cupcakes. Your dad took the plate."

"That's your mom's plate all right, but it's empty." She grinned. "There's cookies in the kitchen. Not as good as Desiree's, but I want to show you what I found."

I followed her into the kitchen. While I munched on store bought cookies, she pulled up a page on her cell phone.

She scooted her chair close to mine and propped the phone against a salt shaker. "It's George's new website," she said softly.

The screen showed a sandy beach with blue water. Palm trees surrounded a shack on the beach with a sign on the door that read _Knock Gently_.

She tapped on the door. It swung open. George stuck his head outside. He had traded in his fedora for a big white Panama hat and sunglasses. He waved us inside.

It looked like a high tech control center with computer equipment and two large screens covering the walls. One showed a jungle scene. The other was a map of South America with a flashing blue dot in the Andes Mountains.

George sat behind a desk littered with books. He tossed a banana peel into an overflowing wastebasket.

"Excuse the mess. We've just moved in to our new digs." He swept his hand to take in the room. "Pretty nice, huh? Now we can get down to business. Start _Examining_ possibilities, _Generating_ reports, and getting _Organized_. Jack is off doing _Research_."

He leaned forward and winked. "Jack is searching for his colleague Jill. We have reason to believe she's in the Andes." He nodded toward the blinking blue light. "This will be a real test of Jack's abilities. If he can find her, we plan to offer her a partnership in our little company.

"Now if you have news of mythical importance, we are prepared to _Examine_ it. Our team has the ability to _Generate_ legendary interest in your topic. We can _Organize_ a fantastical plan to _Research_ your evidence. Are you ready for the adventure?"

He leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "The public will be on the edge of their seats." He shrugged. "It's what we do."

Gen's eyes sparkled and a smile tugged at her mouth. I knew that look. She was already planning a new assignment for George.

### # # #

Thank you for reading our book. If you enjoyed it, won't you please take a moment to leave us a review at your favorite retailer?

Thanks!

Steven & Margaret

Discover other titles by

Steven Larson and Margaret Larson:

Fantasy books

A Sprinkling of Thought Dust

Murky Manor

Cave of Discovery

Worlds Within

The World Beyond the Door

&

A collection of writings

Thoughts on the Wind

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