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We drove on empty roads. I fiddled with the radio, turning through static until I settled on our local AM station. The bare trees gave the weak signal just enough oomph to reach outside the confines of Franklin Notch.
The station had been a constant source of entertainment for Benny and I growing up. Nearly everyone in town had a show on the frequency at some point, whether for fun or to provide information. Benny and I had even taken the midnight to 3 A.M. slot for a couple of years, whenever school was out of session.
“It’s a little early for him to be on, isn’t it?” Benny asked, eyes narrowing as a familiar tinny voice creaked over the static.
Delbert Jenkins: Franklin Notch’s only Uber driver and resident alien conspiracy theorist. He’d held the Friday through Sunday evening slot for decades.
“Yep. The Sanitation guys have been getting drinks after work on Friday. They drop their cars off and have Delbert shuttle them, so he moved his show to earlier in the day.”
Ben shook his head. “You could just hire him to drive you around and get the same information, you know?”
While I didn’t believe Delbert’s insistence that not only were aliens among us, but they were living in Franklin Notch, I did like hearing him unfold his grand conspiracy over the local AM station.
I shook my head at his suggestion. “Nope. Too close. Besides, he said he doesn’t like to mix business with pleasure.”
“He thinks alien sightings are pleasure?” Benny lifted an eyebrow.
“Or he thinks they’re business and driving drunk locals around is pleasure. Neither option sounds particularly sane to me.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to comment on other people’s sanity when you’re encouraging his call-in alien sighting show.”
On the radio, Delbert answered a call. I pinged the voice immediately: Jess Hopkins’ kid, a willowy senior high school student with a wicked sense of humor.
“Where exactly should you wear the tinfoil?” he asked, his voice dropping laughably low in a bad attempt to conceal his identity.
“Well, personally, I keep a square under my baseball cap all the time, but you really only need it if you go to a big box store: Walmart, Lowes, hell, even Market Basket. And by the cell phone towers, of course.”
“What about the local businesses?”
I could make out a muffled laugh on that other end of the line, but couldn’t place whose.
“Well,” Delbert paused before lowering his voice. “I don’t want to start rumors, but I’d keep it on in the antique store.”
My eyes widened and Benny spluttered out a laugh as Delbert continued over the radio. “Mind you, this is just one man’s opinion, but last time I was in there, I doffed my cap, being respectful of course, and left with a headache.”
“Do you think there are EMF waves in the antique store?” The boy prodded, the deep tenor falling away in excitement.
Ben leaned across the seat, brushing my arm. “Is Thea an alien?”
“I can’t believe he’s talking shit about me,” I said.
“Well, I can’t comment on the source of the disturbance, of course. Whether the shop owner is aware of the extraterrestrial interference, but…” Delbert’s voice trailed off and I leaned closer to the radio.
“He’s about to say you’re in cahoots with the aliens.” A grin enveloped Ben’s face as I glared at him.
“I find it interesting that it’s only since the owner took over the front desk duties that I’ve noticed this effect in her shop.”
My jaw dropped as Jess’s son thanked Delbert for his time.
“Did he just call me an alien?”
“No, that’s ridiculous,” Ben said, barely holding back laughter. “He implied that you’re an alien apologist. Possibly running some alien way station in your shop. And that Mrs. Evans was the only person stopping our alien overlords.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe he called me out.”
“Should we tank his Uber ratings?”
“That’s the least of what I’m going to do to him. He came by this week. I was nice to him! Real nice! I even gave him a discount on a book. And that’s the thanks I get?”
