Jackson Humes is Not a Superhero

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The minute I got home I tried video messaging Mr. Saltzman but there was no response, so I sent him a text urging him to call me as soon as possible. I started to explain about Wendy and the events of the day, but I decided against it at the last second. I didn't think it was safe to send that kind of information out into some nebulous technological cloud that could later be used against me.

I didn't understand why it was taking him so long to call me again. Was he in some kind of trouble? I didn't want to jump to any conclusions, but I couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that was growing in the pit of my stomach. My computer dinged, alerting me to an incoming text from Marv.

Heard about Alex. Crazy! We beat Lincoln 21 to 7!!! Just stopped for dinner and about to get back on bus. Reception is shitty, battery low. Will call when I get in and charge phone.

I immediately sent him a message, indicating that there was a lot more to the story and that we needed to speak right away. I debated alluding to the video Mr. Saltzman had shown us, if only to drive my point home, but I didn't dare risk it. I waited patiently for a response, but I didn't get one.

I received an email letting me know that classes were cancelled for the following day. I guess the administration didn't want to take any chances in case there was some undiscovered bomb hidden somewhere on campus. I just couldn't believe how incomprehensively out of hand the whole situation had become.

I walked over to my closed window and looked across the orchard. I could see the dark outline of Mr. Saltzman's two-story Victorian in the distance. I'd forgotten to leave the lights on for Graham in my rush to get back to the café. I felt bad for the poor Great Dane all alone in the dark, empty house.

I had just changed into my pajamas when I had an idea. I walked to the end of the hallway and knocked on my aunt's bedroom door, but she didn't respond. I made my way downstairs and found her making herself a late night snack in the kitchen.

"Is it okay if I bring Graham over here tonight? Mr. Saltzman is still out of town and he's been locked up in the house all by himself." I poured it on as thick as possible. "He can sleep in my room."

She didn't answer right away. She'd never been warm to the idea of pets and even complained under her breath on the rare occasion when a customer with a service dog walked into the café. The fact that she hadn't immediately shut me down was a good sign. "I don't want him making a mess in the house."

"He won't," I promised, "he's better house trained than Tanner."

My comment elicited a rare smile from her. "I guess I owe you one after today. He can stay in your room, but if he starts barking in the middle of the night you'll have to take him back."

I wrote Mr. Saltzman a quick note explaining that Graham was going to be staying with me for the night. I told him it was very important that he come over as soon as he got in, no matter how late it was. I underlined the word important several times to emphasize my point. My aunt would be cranky if the doorbell rang in the middle of the night, but time was running out and the feeling that something worse was coming was only growing stronger by the hour.

The city had never bothered with streetlights on our block, so I made my way to Mr. Saltzman's house in darkness. I usually used my phone as a flashlight and felt another wave of anger towards Wendy for having broken it.

The on and off again rainy weather over the last few days had caused the temperature to drop dramatically. The murky moonlight was dampened further as it slipped behind a low hanging cloud. I taped the note to the front door before unlocking it, and braced myself for Graham's enthusiastic greeting, but the Great Dane was nowhere in sight. I peered into the dark living room and tried not to think of the coffin sitting in the locked room as I ran my hand against the wall feeling for the light switch. I took a step inside the house and called Graham's name.