The Atomic Weight of Secrets or The Arrival of the Mysterious Men in Black (32 page)

“We didn’t get very high, but we
did
get off the ground,” Wallace said, disengaging himself from the bundle and looking at the machine. “We need to do more adjusting. The engine needs to be positioned better. The canard elevators need to be re-secured. We want to be certain it wasn’t an accident of nature and we can fly it again.”

“Oh, nonsense, Wallace,” said Faye, unstrapping herself from her puffy suit. “We flew. And we’ll do it again!” She smiled at him. Wallace, unable to contain the pleasure from it, smiled back.

“Well, this brings us into the second phase of our plan, then. Once we improve our elevation, we’ll be able to follow one of the carriages,” said Wallace. “They’d never think to look up.”

“And then we’ll find Mummy and Daddy!” Lucy said, jumping with excitement.

“Let’s get these cushions back,” said Noah, “before Miss Brett decides she’d like to sit down.”

The plan would be simple enough—they would take apart their flying machine, hide it, and then, before the nefarious men in black came to take them back to their homes, the five of them would sneak into the back of the birdwatcher’s truck. They would go wherever it was he was going and, if he discovered them hiding before they could climb out unnoticed, they would beg the birdman to take them to some nearby field where they could put the pieces together and get into the air—higher, much higher, with the proper adjustments. From there, they would follow those men in black to wherever those lunatics were keeping their parents. Once they got the aeroplane in the air, the pilot would be undetectable, and as soon as the pilot was able to determine where their parents were being held, they’d be able to go, all together, to release them.

They considered contacting Faye’s cousin, but it would be almost impossible to get past the watchful eyes of the nannies, let alone the men in black. Besides, one of the last things the Modests’ parents had asked was for them to keep quiet and keep from being seen. Their parents wanted them to be invisible.

But what did that mean? Were their parents worried the children might do something to endanger them all? The children did not know. They certainly did not want to bring danger down upon their parents—or themselves. But they had invented a flying machine to find their parents, and they had to be sure it remained hidden and secret.

It was also of the utmost importance that they keep danger
away from Miss Brett. They did not want to cause her problems with the men in black or otherwise put her in harm’s way. In their own moments of heightened terror, all had nightmarish visions of Miss Brett being tortured by some maniacal black-hooded devil with dark glasses—and probably black fuzzy slippers and a black bowtie the size of a railroad crossing flag—amd dropped down some dark well, or something worse. The best way to protect her was by not involving her.

The birdwatcher, too, had to be protected. He was a total innocent and should not be involved any more than necessary. If all went right, he would never know they had hidden in the back of his truck, and he would never know the role he had played in the first-ever flight by a human being.

T
HE
P
OWER
O
F
F
LIGHT

OR

THE LANGUAGE OF LIGHT

T
hen Friday came and it was time. They had hidden the aeroplane, and they had kept an eye on the birdwatcher’s truck, but Wallace had felt the need to complete his experiment. He had failed—he had needed twenty-seven seconds more—and now, as the carriages kicked up a cloud of dust driving up the road, as Miss Brett helped Wallace clean the blackboard, the children waited for their classmate, despite Faye’s thoughtless insistence on leaving him behind.

“Look,” said Faye, struggling to defend herself, “with him distracting Miss Brett, we’ll have a better chance of—”

“He’s coming!” shouted Lucy.

All eyes turned to the schoolhouse. Wallace was running, top speed, toward them. Faye bit her tongue. “He’s free. Let’s go,” she said.

With no time for greetings, they all turned right at the ruins of the old silo and ran around the side of the farmhouse to the potting shed.

Working quickly, they began tossing aside the old broken plant pots and leaves. They removed the old burlap sacks to reveal
the tightly-wrapped bundles hidden beneath. Noah carried the engine—or, actually, he rolled it, using the bottom part of an old wheelbarrow and tying the package atop it using the rope they found in the shed. A big, flat, square package wrapped in the spare tablecloth held Jasper’s propeller. He carried that. There were three more packages, two wrapped in spare quilts and light for their length. These were Faye’s wings, and Wallace and Faye each carried one. The last package, wrapped in the throw blanket that always hung over the back of Miss Brett’s chair, was Lucy’s tail. It was not very heavy, and Lucy carried that all on her own.

Noah went first, peering from behind the old wooden door of the shed. The shed was not visible from the window of the schoolhouse. But they could still see the birdwatcher. He was lying flat on his back, probably having fallen again from the tree.

“Do you really think it will be safe in that truck with that fellow?” asked Noah, swinging his burden over his shoulder and casually walking out the door. “We might very well be risking our lives more by driving in a motorized vehicle with the birdwatcher over there than, well, you know... remaining in the hands of our odd friends in black.” “They’re not my friends,” said Lucy, marching behind Noah.

“Well, it is a Knox truck, Noah,” Jasper said, “and it’s a new model, so it’s safe—”

“It’s not the truck that makes me nervous.” Noah’s implication was clear as he and the others observed the birdwatcher trying to disentangle himself from his own binoculars, but falling down once again.

The children all stood staring for a moment. It was a moment
too long.

“Children,” Miss Brett called from the schoolhouse, “they’re going to be here in a few minutes. Are you packed for the weekend?”

They all looked at one another for an answer. The birdwatcher was parked across the field, on the very small dirt road leading away from town.

“I say it’s now or never,” said Faye. “Let’s make a run for it. We’ll come back for Miss Brett, unless they—”

“Unless they what?” asked Jasper, not wanting an answer.

“You don’t think they’ll hurt her?” whined Lucy, her fingers already planted in her mouth.

“There’s no time for this!” shouted Faye. “Grab your bundle and let’s...” But the words stopped there. There was nothing left to say and nothing left to do.

When they turned to run to the birdwatcher’s Knox truck, to hide themselves and their invention, to hitch a ride into Dayton or wherever they could put their invention together and set off to save their parents... they found he had gone.

There was nothing they could do. Faye stared as if she might be missing something, as if she could will the truck to reappear by staring hard enough.

But now there was another thing they had to face. Miss Brett was coming to look for them.

“Quick!” Jasper said. “Let’s get everything back in the shed!”

“No,” hissed Faye. “She’s going to clean the ruddy place out. We’ve got to take it all with us.”

“Take it with us?” Jasper’s tone was incredulous. “We’re supposed to take all of these bundles back home without anyone
noticing?”

What Miss Brett found when she got to the children were five of the most falsely innocent faces she had ever addressed. She was a bit confused by both their appearance, which was in no way how she had last seen them, and their collective behavior—not to mention the strangest-shaped packages she had ever seen. A few moments of open-mouthed surprise passed before she could say anything.

“What on earth are you doing, children?” she asked. “What have you been up to?” At this point, they were all more than a little disheveled, with leaves in their hair, dirt on their chins, and bits of dead plants stuck here and there. When she tried to make eye contact, she found each one of them staring off into the distance, at the old oak tree, or somewhere else. She looked at their bundles. “What in the world did you pack in those bundles? Are those your things for the weekend?”

They all nodded emphatically, or otherwise assented. Then each, in his or her own way, once again tried to avoid the ever-penetrating gaze of Miss Brett. By now, she knew them quite well, and knew something was amiss.

“Children? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“Oh, yes,” cried Lucy, “I would, I would, I truly, truly would.”

“But it will have to wait,” said Faye, interrupting Lucy. “It’s... it’s a surprise.”

“Well, I suppose,” said Miss Brett, looking in the direction of the dirt road. The cloud of dust carving a line through the fields was now within a minute of the schoolhouse. If they had been driving those big smelly motorcars instead of carriages, they would have arrived already.

Two enormous carriages pulled onto the front field.

“Please, Miss Brett, don’t say anything,” said Faye. There was fear in her eyes.

“I don’t have anything to say, dear,” said Miss Brett, “but I want you to know that I trust you children. If I am asked, I will explain that these are part of a class project, and you are bringing it all home for the weekend. Is that an apt reply? And truthful since you are, actually, the class, and this is, actually, your project, is it not?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wallace said. They all nodded.

“That it is,” Noah said.

“And I take it that your, whatever it is, cannot remain here?” Miss Brett added with an air of resignation, knowing the answer before she asked.

“You’ve taken it just right,” Noah said.

“Well, then,” Miss Brett said, straightening her apron, “let us greet our visitors, shall we?”