Page 14 of Strange Lights

7

Doug & Dave

Eldi is still sleeping when we return to the Winnebago as the first rays of light creep over the horizon. I leave her with the robots for guards⁠—no longer afraid of my new friends⁠—and I rush to knock on Calvin’s door. I can barely contain my excitement.

He’s fast to answer. The door flies open, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Reggie? What’s wrong?”

It’s only then that I realize my knocking was probably overenthusiastic. Calvin looks frantic; he’s shirtless, and his hair is sticking up at odd angles. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him even slightly disheveled. I’m suddenly very conscious of my baggy and kind of dirty “Bigfoot is real” T-shirt and my holey pajama pants. The smell of nervous sweat wafts off me. Somehow Calvin outshines me even at his worst. It must be nice to be child-free and have time to work out instead of chasing down toddlers and burying goats in the forest.

“Put on a shirt,” I blurt out. “You’re distracting.”

His worried look dissipates, and exasperation edges into his voice. “Did you seriously drag me out of bed to criticize my pajamas?”

“It’s about what you’re not wearing, not what you are wearing, but that’s not the point.” I cut him off before he can open his mouth to retort. “The vacuums! I figured out what they’re doing! Crop circles, they’re making crop circles. I think they’re trying to communicate with others like them. I followed Doug and Dave into the cornfield last night⁠—”

“Who the hell are Doug and Dave?”

“You know, the guys who made crop circles in the 1980s for fun. I named the vacuums after them. Anyway, I followed Doug and Dave⁠—the vacuums, not the old guys⁠—into the cornfield after they turned into spider robots and tried to kill me⁠—”

“Wait, they did what?”

“We had an altercation, keep up!”

“Reggie!”

“Oh, it’s fine! I don’t think they meant it. They were protecting Eldi, and one held a knife to my throat⁠—”

“Whoa, whoa, I need coffee first.”

“Sure, sounds great,” I say, pushing past him into the Airstream.

“Go on, Your Majesty, make yourself at home.”

He puts on a shirt and makes us coffee as I tell him all about last night’s adventures.

“I want to see this crop circle before we leave,” he says.

Somehow, it’s become an unspoken agreement that we’re in this one together. Worry, impatience, and something else I can’t identify crowd my mind. I need to be careful or Calvin might find out too much.

“I think I should stay a bit longer,” I say, “see if anything else happens now that they have a crop circle set up.”

Something being drawn to the message Doug and Dave have carved in the field seems likely, but I can’t say I’m not looking for an excuse to again put some distance between Calvin and me while I figure out what to do next. I shove down the guilt about delaying the werewolves. It’s probably fine. It’s fine.

“You stay a day, then meet me in Colorado before we go to Yellowstone,” Calvin counters. “No way am I skipping out on that smart-home hub lead after all this.”

We take our coffees outside, and I guide Calvin to the crop circle. He photographs it carefully, even takes a few samples of corn, and then leaves in a rush, already ranting about the next device he’s intent on getting his hands on and speculating about the crop circle’s message. He knows better than to warn me to be careful, but winks knowingly as I wish him a safe drive.

After he goes, I walk the crop circle by myself, thinking. I feel oddly exposed and trapped, like a rat in a maze, with corn rising all around me, rustling in the wind. I won’t stay long. I don’t want anyone asking me weird questions once the farmer discovers this anomaly. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but all signs lead to something more.

But nothing comes⁠—only more of those strange lights dancing across the sky after nightfall.

Doug and Dave join me to retrace their pattern. Eldi is with them, and she races in and out of the stalks while I trail them on the now-familiar path, trying and failing to find meaning in the design they’ve made. It’s beyond frustrating. “Why are you doing this?” I ask as one of the vacuums flicks out a blade and mows down an additional stray stalk of corn.

Of course, the only answer is the voice in my head. Not alone.

“Orion,” Eldi shouts, pointing skyward.

“You can’t see Orion right now,” I mutter half-heartedly, knowing Eldi won’t listen anyway.