Blood

4. The Hedges of Remoteville, USA

Obviously Remoteville isn't the real name of my boring little town. It's true, however, that it's a border town, like I said. But think six months of winter and no border patrol.

My town is up north and close enough to walk to Canada. In fact, the next exit on the highway going north is Canada. Not a big deal. The rest stop has a Customs counter if you want to get a visa, except usually there's no one staffing it. I don't know what my weird uncle was talking about because we don't really have a border problem here although the feds did come in and start putting up a massive cement wall on the edge of town last year. But they left when it was less than half way done.

I don't think the border wall is even on the border. They got that wrong. Or else Hedges' yard crosses the border because the wall runs right through his back yard.

Hedges is actually my best friend's last name. His first is Hieronymus so of course we don't use it. Except for the goofs who say "Hi, Hi!" When they see him in the hall.

He's in my class. And he's kind of a genius. One of those absent minded ones who forgets to study for quizzes so the school doesn't know how smart he is. We've been friends since first grade, way before anyone knew who the jocks and the nerds were. He doesn't play hockey. Or anything at all. But he builds interesting things in a shed in his yard, which is now right smack up against the border wall. The wall actually presses against the back of his workshop, as he calls the shed. I'm surprised they didn't demo it when they built the wall.

After I made it back home without scraping any mailboxes and I parked the car in the driveway, I rode my bike over to see Hedges. I'm not actually allowed to drive Mom's car. I do have my learner's permit but she's always too busy to take me out. My uncle didn't seem to mind me driving, but he's a freak. Anyway, he and the grocery bag went into the house while I hurried away as fast as I could ride. I didn't want to hear them arguing and I really wanted to tell Hedges about him.

I circled past the long garage where Hedges' dad has his tow truck business. It's much bigger than their house. Hedges' mom left when he was three so he basically raised himself while his dad ran the business. Old cars from crashes are in the field out back, and Hedges pirates transformers and alternators and switches from them. The field was recently cut off by the massive new border fence, but as I said, Hedges' shed is still there.

As I leaned my bike against the twenty foot tall cement wall, a loud motor sound came out of the shed. It whined into some sort of high gear as a skylight on top of the shed burst open and glass rained down the roof shingles.

Out of the skylight came a cube shaped thingy with a motor at its base and a lawn chair above it (empty, fortunately), and a metal-bladed house fan spinning on top, plus big wheels with toilet plunger rubber suction cups on them. Whine! went the fan and plup plup plup went the suction cups as it worked its way over the roof and began to climb the cement wall.

It got close to the top, but the wheels got tangled in razor wire and it stopped. The motor hiccupped and smoke and flame belched out.

Hedges burst out of the door and stood there shading his eyes and staring up at his newest invention as it incinerated itself. When the suction cups began to burn, it fell off the wall and plopped onto the tar-paper roof of the shed.