Scatman Dues (Freaky Florida Mystery Adventures Book 6) by Margaret Lashley (ereader for android TXT) 📕

“Grayson and I’ll go back to Hi-Ho this morning and check everything out.”

“You need my help,” Garth said. “There’s a lot of unmarked trails out there. People ride dirt bikes and dune buggies on them. Horses sometimes.”

“Thanks, but we can manage,” I said, shoving him out the door.

Garth hung onto the doorframe like a cat on a washtub rim. “But!”

“Look,” I said. “No offense, but if you keep hacking all over us and we get us sick, no one will be able to help your brother Jimmy.”

Garth stopped struggling. “Sorry, Pandora. You’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now go get some rest. And leave your flu bugs in that trailer with the rest of the arthropods.”

“Garth,” Grayson called out. “There is one thing you can do. Keep monitoring the ham radio for any intel about missing persons or communications from Jimmy. If you hear anything, report back to us immediately. We’ll do the same.”

Garth’s wimpy shoulders straightened. “Yes, sir, Mr. Gray.”

I stood in the doorframe and watched Garth stumble back along the dirt driveway toward his trailer. As the chain-link gate began to close, I turned to Grayson.

“Why’d you tell Garth that? He needs to be in bed, getting well.”

Grayson shrugged. “A man needs to feel useful, Drex.”

“Oh. Right.” I turned the tap on the kitchen sink and waited for the water to heat up. “I only hope he hasn’t already contaminated us.” I glanced around. “Speaking of unwanted germs, where’s Earl?”

“In the restroom.”

I grimaced. “Great. Let’s add a Walmart stop to today’s plans.”

“Why?” Grayson asked.

I sighed. “Let’s just say I’ve got a hunch we’re gonna need a bigger can of Febreze.”

Chapter Twelve

“What ’cha lookin’ at?” Earl asked.

He’d emerged from the bathroom and shuffled over to the banquette where Grayson was seated. He stood beside the table like a bear in jeans, staring over Grayson’s shoulder.

Grayson swiped the display on his cellphone. “These are pictures I took last night of the strange phenomenon we encountered.”

“Whoa!” Earl said. “That’s purty strange, all right.”

He grabbed the phone from Grayson and shoved it in my face. “Lookie here, Bobbie! It’s a dad-burned blue-tongued devil!”

“What?”

I dropped the plate I was washing, grabbed the cellphone, and slapped on my cheater glasses. The image of a ghostly, wild-eyed creature came into focus. Its tongue was the color of blueberries.

I let out a groan. Somehow, Grayson had managed to capture a partial headshot of me in total freak-out mode.

Great. That’s the last time I eat a blue-raspberry Tootsie Pop before a stakeout.

I shot Earl a sneer. “Har har. Very funny.”

He tried to snatch the phone back, but I was too quick for him. “Nothing doing,” I said, shoving it into my shirt pocket, out of his grasp.

“Interesting,” Grayson said, tapping on his laptop keyboard. “A Google map of the vicinity around Edward Medard Park shows a veritable network of unpaved roads.”

“So?” I said.

Grayson looked up from the screen. “That could explain Jimmy’s disappearance. Some of these side roads go pretty deep into the woods, perhaps out of wifi range.”

“Or maybe it’s like you said,” Earl replied. “He got sucked up into that porta-potty thing.”

“Portal,” I said.

“Hmm.” Grayson rubbed his chin. “I guess we won’t know for sure unless we get another signal blip from Garth’s phone.”

“How do you figure that?” I asked.

“Elementary,” Grayson said. “Another signal would prove Jimmy was still in range, and therefore still on Earth.”

“No,” I argued, a smirk forming on my lips. “It would only prove Garth’s phone was still here.”

Grayson’s dimple reappeared. “Fair point, Drex. But either way, we should explore the entire area today. See if we can locate him, his vehicle, or at least some tire tracks. With any luck, we should also be able to pinpoint the site of the strange phenomenon we saw last night.”

Earl smirked. “I thought she was right over there washin’ dishes.”

I shot my cousin a glare that could fry eggs in a cold skillet. He winced and turned to Grayson. “Uh ... what’s Jimmy drivin’, anyways?”

Grayson chewed his lip. “An old pickup. GM, I think.”

I shook my head. “Jimmy drives a 1966 light-blue Chevy C-10 with factory four-by-four.”

Earl’s eyes lit up. “Sweeet!” He turned to me. “They don’t make four-wheel drives like they used to. Is it mint?”

I laughed. “Not even close. The chassis looks like it’s been in an avalanche.”

Earl winced. “Dang. So you reckon he’s stuck out there? He could a blown a gasket or somethin’.”

I shrugged. “It’s possible. But from what I remember, Jimmy kept the engine in excellent working condition. You know, just in case of an apocalypse.”

“Apocalypse?” Earl asked. “That don’t sound like no fun.”

“Jimmy’s a doomsday prepper like his brother Garth,” I said. “That’s the whole reason he drives that old truck. No electronic ignition. You know. In case of an EMP.”

Earl scratched his head. “Elephant making poop?”

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “Electro-magnetic pulse, genius.” I looked over at Grayson, feeling quite smug I’d remembered his lecture from a couple of months ago.

Grayson nodded at Earl. “No worries. It’s a common mistake.”

Wha?

“You see,” Grayson continued, “a strong-enough electromagnetic pulse, whether from a solar flare or man-made signal, would knock out every vehicle with an electronic ignition.”

“Oh, sure. Gotcha,” Earl said.

“Unfortunately, the fact that Jimmy’s truck has no electronics also means there’s no built-in GPS for us to track him with.”

I frowned. “So, how are we gonna find him if Garth’s phone signal dies?”

“What about tracking Jimmy’s own phone?” Earl asked.

“No. He’s too smart for that,” Grayson said. “Garth told us Jimmy turned his locator off. That’s why we need to start searching for him as soon as possible. Hand me my phone, Drex. We can start our search from where we got stuck last night.”

“And how do we find that location?” I asked, pulling the phone from my pocket.

Earl snatched the phone from my hand and wagged it in my face.

“Easy, Cuz. We’ll just look for your skid marks.”

RAINDROPS AS BIG AS grapes splatted on Bessie’s windshield as we