Flush - Carl Hiaasen [28]
“They’d think we’re a couple of whack jobs. We need witnesses, Abbey, not just a hole in a sewer tank.”
“Does this Shelly person have a plan?”
“We’re still working on it,” I said.
“We? Oh, great.”
“Any ideas would be welcome.”
“Noah, this isn’t a game,” my sister said. “If there’s a killer out there—which I doubt, but if it’s true—there’s only one possible plan.”
“Which is?”
“We pack up and move to Canada immediately. You, me, Mom, Dad—we drive straight to Saskatchewan and move in with Grandpa Kenneth and Grandma Janet. Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Good night, Abbey.”
I was so tired that I fell asleep in my clothes. Right away I started dreaming about fishing, which wasn’t unusual for me. In the dream I was alone in a small wooden boat, hooked up to a humongous tarpon that was dragging me out to sea. The water was getting rougher, and the salt spray was whipping at my cheeks and stinging my eyes. Before long it got dark and I couldn’t see a thing.
All I had to do to save myself was let go of the stupid fishing rod, but it was the biggest tarpon I’d ever seen and I wanted desperately to catch it. The fish was pulling so hard that the little boat was plowing and lurching through the waves. Somehow I managed to steady myself in the bow, leaning with all my might against the muscle of the fish. Every so often the line would hiss upward, slacken, and then a tremendous splash could be heard in the distance. I knew it was the sound of my tarpon jumping, trying to shake out the hook.
Eventually the black gloom was broken by a bright white burst, and I realized we were passing the lighthouse at Alligator Reef. In the dream I started thinking about all the monster barracudas and sharks that lived on the reef, and what a bad thing it would be to tumble overboard there.
Next, something terrifying happened. The boat was lifted by an enormous claw-shaped wave and tossed like a toy, high in the air. The spinning rod flew from my grip and I pitched backward, expecting at any moment to crack my skull against the planks of the transom.
But instead I just kept falling, as if tumbling through a high mountain canyon. I tried to wake myself but I couldn’t, which is the worst feeling when you’re in the middle of a bad dream. As I fell, something invisible began rocking me back and forth—lightly at first, but then harder and harder until I was flopping around like a rag doll.
With both arms I swiped out blindly, groping for something to cling to. What I ended up grabbing was a round, mossy-topped rock—or so I thought, until the rock started speaking.
“Noah,” it whispered. “Please let go of my face.”
I opened my eyes. “Dad?”
“Sorry if I scared you.”
I bolted upright and reached for the lamp. There was my father kneeling by the bed, still wearing the orange jail-house jumpsuit. He was definitely not part of my dream.
“It’s good to see you, buddy.”
“Good to see you, too,” I said. “But what are you doing here?”
“I escaped,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Escaped? From jail?”
“I’m afraid they left me no choice.”
I didn’t bother to ask who he was talking about because it didn’t matter. This time he’d gone too far.
“Does Mom know you’re out?”
“Not yet. I wanted to wake you and Abbey first.”
Sure, I thought, because he wanted protection. Mom wouldn’t throw any heavy objects at him if we kids were in the room.
“It looks bad, I know,” he admitted, “but I can explain.”
I doubted that seriously.
“Here’s an idea,” I said. “How about you try out your story on me, before we go see Mom?”
Dad grinned in relief. “I knew I could count on you, Noah.”
NINE
Breakfast was surprisingly civilized, all things considered.
Dad had slept on the floor of my room, then surprised Mom first thing in the morning. She cried some at first, and they hugged for a long time. Abbey and I slipped out of the kitchen and parked ourselves in front of the television, which still wasn’t working.
The TV-dish repair guy showed up while my mother was making eggs and pancakes,