Chapter Text
Mid-July in Northwestern Oregon was hot and dry, but pleasantly so in a way that reminded Jimmy of afternoons on the playground as a little kid. He stuck his head out the window to enjoy a bit of the breeze as the van drove past pine trees and small houses with fields speckled with white and pink wildflowers.
“Are we there yet?” Tango said, hovering just over Jimmy’s left shoulder.
“Tango wants to know if we’re there yet,” he helpfully repeated. Grian glared at him in the rear-view mirror, stopped from extending his ire to Tango only by the fact he couldn’t see him.
“You can tell your freeloading ghost that, for once, the answer to that question has changed since the last time he asked.”
“He can hear you, you know.”
“I know.” Grian returned his gaze to the road ahead. “About five more minutes. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Sure enough, they did know it when they saw it. A small green sign labeled “Entering Vernonia” marked the official demarcation already indicated by the slightly increased concentration of houses. It was a small town, with hardly any actual town to speak of. Scar watched a few more houses roll past.
“You sure take us to the nicest places, Grian.”
“We’re getting paid.” He turned a right, then a left, perhaps a little bit faster than he had to. Scar and Jimmy swung slightly. Tango laughed. “See? At least there’s a pizza place. We’ll get settled in first, and then drive out to meet our client afterward.”
“Sure.” Jimmy prepared to jump out of the van as soon as it pulled into the parking lot, stopping only to make sure Tango’s horseshoe was still tucked into the interior pocket of his bag. Scar followed with, grabbing his bag of personal effects out of the back. Grian hoisted his own backpack on his back before slamming the door shut.
Tango was quiet as Jimmy poked around the small lobby, listening to Scar work his magic on the owner standing behind the front desk, albeit with Grian’s supervision. Eventually, Scar jangled a set of keys at them and gestured them up the stairs.
The room was tiny, just big enough for two beds and a minifridge. A quick glance in the bathroom confirmed it to be adequate, but not special. Jimmy flopped backwards onto a bed with his arms spread wide.
“I want to take a nap,” he announced. The bed creaked as Tango settled next to him. “I hate driving.”
“Funny, because you weren’t driving.” Scar threw an apple at him. “Think fast.”
The apple smacked Jimmy in the side of the face. “You’re supposed to say ‘think fast’ before you throw it, you know.”
“I know.” Scar tossed a wrapped sandwich towards him too. That one Jimmy managed to catch. “You can nap in the 20 minutes we have before Grian drags us all out of here or, and hear me out, you can eat the lunch I worked very hard on.”
“Someday, we will eat something other than sandwiches.”
Scar shrugged. “If you’d rather spend our nights camping again, I’d be happy to cook something more involved.”
Jimmy shuddered. “I’ll take the hotel room when we’re in town.”
“Good, because we paid for it already.” Grian snatched a sandwich from Scar’s hands. “We can make baked potatoes in the microwave tomorrow. There’s a grocery store a block over.”
“What’s a microwave?” Tango asked.
“Uh—” Jimmy paused. “It’s a device that heats up food. A little bit like an oven, but it’s not the same kind of heat.”
“I’m assuming there’s no fire in this one either.” His voice sounded a little disappointed. Jimmy was hit with a flash of memory, remembering the way Tango had cackled the first time he stoked the fire of their new iron stove. He shook it off.
“Nope, no fire.”
Scar blinked at him. “It’s still a little weird to hear you two talk.”
“Sorry.” Jimmy shriveled a little.
“Not bad!” He backpedaled. “I’m just not used to you talking to yourself.”
“You say that as if you aren’t constantly making baby talk to your cat.” Grian gestured with his sandwich. “We still have only your word for her existence.”
“You take back everything you said about Jellie right now.”
“I’m sorry, Jellie, who I’m sure is a very lovely cat who’s trapped spending her afterlife with a madman.” Grian smiled. Scar made a show of crossing his arms. “However, we do really need to see our client. I told her we’d be over this afternoon.”
“Yeah, yeah. The work of a ghost hunter is never done.” Scar peeled himself off the bed. Jimmy trailed after Grian, who marched downstairs without waiting to see if they were following.
Their client lived west of the town proper, within eyeshot of only two other houses—one across the road, and one just across a small field. Grian scanned it with a critical eye as he pulled into the driveway.
“Few witnesses, which makes our job both easier and harder.” He tapped the steering wheel a little. “I don’t see the chicken coop, so I’m assuming it’s out back.”
“Probably.” Scar hopped out of the car. “I’ll want to take a look around as soon as we’re done talking with her.”
“Right.” Grian glanced at his notebook. “Her name is Nancy Susan. She’s a retired schoolteacher, and she lives alone since her husband died except for the chickens and a cat. The reason we’re here is because her chickens keep turning up dead in the morning. She thinks they’re being drained of blood.”
“Freaky.” Jimmy shivered.
“There is a non-zero chance that we leave out our cameras overnight and realize it’s just a coyote or something.” Grian sighed and tucked the notebook away. “I don’t expect much.”
“Won’t know until we go looking!” Scar gestured towards the front door. “After you, gentlemen.”
Grian glared at him as they walked past before ringing the doorbell. They waited a few moments as the person behind the door fumbled with the lock. When the door finally swung open, they were greeted by the sight of a short, silver haired woman wearing a pair of house slippers. She brightened when she saw them.
“Are you Mrs. Susan?” Grian asked.
“I am! You must be Grian?” She gestured towards the inside of the house. “Why don’t you come inside? Make yourselves comfortable.”
The inside of the house was cozy and tidy. The living room was covered in pictures, presumably of her grandchildren, as well as a few tasteful pieces of art. The trio settled together on a couch as they waited for her to return from the kitchen.
She emerged with a tray containing four glasses of lemonade and set it on a coffee table before sitting down in one of the chairs.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said, “I’m a little bit out of sorts.”
“We got your explanation, of course,” Grian said. “But could you walk us through your story from the beginning, just so we can make sure we have all the details?”
“It only started about a week and a half ago.” She picked up a glass. “I found Admiral—my rooster—dead inside the locked coop when I went to look for eggs in the morning. I’ve lost four chickens since then. I’m down to only two left.”
“I’m so sorry.” Scar made the appropriate face of sympathy as he picked up his own glass.
“And you’re sure it wasn’t natural causes?” Grian leaned in. “No disease, not predators?”
She bristled. “I’ve raised these birds since they were chicks. I’d know if they were sick. And no predators leave behind a perfectly intact corpse.”
“She’s right.” Jimmy looked at Grian. “I’ve never heard of something that would kill a chicken like that.”
“Did you keep chickens?” She asked. Jimmy froze for a second.
“Yeah.” He managed to squeeze out, barely holding back against the tidal wave of memories. Building the coop together and nearly driving a nail through his hand before Tango took over. Bringing their first box of chicks over from the neighbors. Napping on a Sunday afternoon with his hat pulled over his face and a chicken on his lap. “It was a long time ago.”
Scar cast him a stray glance before trying to help him cover. “Would it be possible for us to see the bodies as part of our investigation?”
“No.” Her face slipped into something even sadder. “I buried them out back.”
Grian and Scar shared a look as he leaned in to comfort her. Jimmy ignored the two of them entirely. Mrs. Susan took a moment to collect herself, then wiped her eyes with her hands and looked back up at them.
Grian pulled out his notebook. “Is it okay if we ask you some questions about your property? We like to try and establish the history of a place when we’re trying to figure out what might be causing any unusual phenomena.”
“Sure.” She sniffled a little. He looked uncomfortable.
“Are you aware of any history of death on the property, beyond the obvious?”
“No.” She shook her head. “My husband died in the hospital.”
Grian looked even more deeply uncomfortable as he scratched something down. “Any prior history of haunting? Doors opening and closing on their own, footsteps, objects being moved or thrown, or anything else of the sort?”
“Not once, as long as I’ve lived here.”
Grian made another note and sighed. “I think that’s all the questions I have for now. My colleagues and I have to go set up some of our equipment and take a minute to confer.”
“Of course.” She stood. “Can I get you anything? Something to eat? More lemonade?”
“I think we’ll be fine, Ma’am.” Scar smiled. “Thank you very much.”
They filtered out of the house and back to the van, where Grian started unloading their equipment. He paused when he got the last camera bag out of the back and slung it over his shoulder before turning to Jimmy.
“Are you all good back there, Timmy?” He asked.
“Yeah.” Jimmy shook his head. “It’s getting easier to manage.”
“Sure.” Scar raised an eyebrow. “I say we put you on coop-cam duty, since you might as well be half-bird already.”
“Hey! The seagulls were a coincidence—”
“You befriended a peacock.” Grian picked up the rest of their tripods. “No normal person can do that.”
“Cranky because it tried to bite you?” Scar teased.
“Scar, stop trying to play both sides.” Grian let the tip of a tripod hit him as he turned around. “The sooner we’re set up, the sooner we can take a break.”
“You make a tempting bargain.” Scar trailed after him. Jimmy made to follow when he felt Tango stir.
“Are you good?” He asked softly.
“I’m fine.” Jimmy shrugged. “It wears off.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” He turned to look at Tango on reflex, briefly startled by the fact he couldn’t be seen. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I still feel—”
“Timmy!” Grian yelled. “We still need you!”
“Coming!” He shouted back. Tango dissipated. Jimmy sighed and walked around to the back side of the house.
There was a good bit of space out back, half-filled by a chicken coop and a large covered run. Grian shoved a smaller camera with a mini tripod into his hands and pointed him straight towards it while Scar sat on the back porch and supervised. He sighed and ducked inside.
The two remaining chickens were quiet and subdued. Jimmy cooed at them a little sadly as he tried to find a suitable spot to brace the camera with a good view of the whole coop. He wound up with his head shoved into the corner while he secured the camera to the tripod base, face twisted in concentration.
“Do I need to call the police?” Someone asked from outside. Jimmy jumped and slammed his head against the roof of the coop. He ducked outside as fast as he could.
A man was standing at the edge of the property line with his arms crossed, the tail ends of his bandana fluttering in a slow breeze. “Because what I see right now is a bunch of people skulking around in my neighbor’s yard, up to no good.”
“There’s no need for that!” Scar pasted on his favorite smile. “We’re just doing some freelance work for the lovely Mrs. Susan over here and—”
Grian brushed past him. “Martyn? Is that you?”
“Grian?” He dropped his hands. “What a small world! What are you doing in Vernonia?”
“I could ask you the same question, you know.”
“I live back across the street.” Martyn pointed. ‘But seriously, what are you doing in Vernonia? It’s a long way from home.”
“Work.” Grian shoved his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Now Grian, would you like to introduce your friend to me?” Scar turned towards him, casting a particularly significant glance. Grian took the rescue line.
“Martyn, Scar. Scar, Martyn. We knew each other back in primary school.” Grian gestured between each of them in turn. “Timmy’s here too, somewhere.”
“Hi.” Jimmy waved from behind both of them. Martyn’s face flickered almost imperceptibly.
“I didn’t realize you two had stayed in touch,” he observed, voice conspicuously neutral.
“What have you been up to? How have you been?” Jimmy tried to smile. The air turned freezing.
“It’s—it’s been a long week.” Martyn stared at the ground. “I was in a car accident last weekend.”
“Oh my god. Are you okay?”
“I made it.” Jimmy could feel the hair on the back of his neck start to stick up as Martyn continued to stare at the ground. “My friend didn’t.”
The silence that followed was as cold as ice and sharp as a knife. Scar was, thankfully, the first person to come back to his senses. When he said “sorry for your loss,” it sounded as genuine as they’d ever heard him.
“Is there anything we can do?” Jimmy asked.
“I wouldn’t say no to some company, if you have the time.” Martyn’s smile was shaky, but present. “I don’t know what your life looks like, though—”
“Nonsense.” Scar said. “We’ll be done here in a few hours. I could even help cook, if you have a kitchen to spare.”
“Right.” Grian nodded, glaring at Scar’s back a little.
“I wouldn’t want to impose—”
“Does 5 work?” Scar tilted his head a little. Martyn nodded. “Anything for one of Grian’s friends.”
“I guess I’ll see you at five. I’ll leave you to it, then.” If Martyn walked away any faster, it would have been considered fleeing.
“Scar!” Grian hissed as soon as he was out of earshot. “What were you thinking?”
“I thought you two were friends?” He made his best innocent face. “Anyway, it’s a good idea to scope out the neighbors, considering they were this close.”
“I really don’t want to talk to Martyn about the ghost stuff.” Grian bit at his lip.
“Well then, I’ll talk to him about the ghost stuff.” Scar shrugged. “Besides, the poor man lost his friend. We should at least try to help.”
“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” Jimmy said. “It’s Martyn.”
“Fine.” Grian balled his hands into fists. “Why don’t you two go, and I’ll finish up the cameras myself?”
“Sounds fantastic.” Scar grabbed Jimmy by the arm and yanked. “We’ll go talk to the other neighbor. See if they know anything.”
Grian turned back towards his cameras and said nothing at all.
The last of the three houses in the little clearing had a yard so overgrown it looked like it was trying to recede back into the forest. It would have looked abandoned, if not for the clean paint job and well-kept vintage car in the front driveway. Scar whistled a little as he looked at it.
“Wonder who lives out here?” He said, hands on his hip. “That’s not exactly a farming car.”
“It’s pretty,” Jimmy offered.
“Sure is.” Scar walked up to the front door and knocked twice. They waited through a long, heavy silence, enough that Scar was ready to turn around and go sit in the van, until the door slid open a crack.
“Hi.” A voice with a British accent said. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe.” Scar smiled. “My name is Scar, and this is Jimmy. We were hired by your neighbor to look into some issues she’s been having with her chickens. Would you have time to answer a few questions?”
“Sure.” They shuffled a little, letting the door open a tiny bit wider. They could just about make out part of a face—a tall figure with black hair and a spectacular mustache, dressed in a suit and tie in his own home at 3:30 on a Wednesday afternoon. Jimmy raised an eyebrow.
“Well first off, do you mind telling us your name?” Scar smiled even wider.
“Mumbo.” He scratched the back of his neck.
“Well, very nice to meet you, Mumbo.” Scar extended his hand. Mumbo looked extremely hesitant, but took it anyway. His hands were smooth and pale, and his handshake was firm. “Has Mrs. Susan told you about the fact her chickens keep winding up dead?”
“No.” He looked to the side. “We don’t really talk that much.”
“No worries. Have you heard anything in the night? Animals, people moving around?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
Scar nodded. “Do you mind if we take a walk around the outside of your property? Just to get the lay of the land a little.”
“Sure.” Mumbo looked like he wanted the conversation to end.
“Great.” Scar nodded again. “Have a nice day.”
“You too.” The door closed. Scar gave Jimmy another significant look.
“That was weird,” Jimmy offered as they forced their way through the tall grass around to the back of the property.
“I’m sure there are plenty of good reasons to wear a suit around the house.” Scar shrugged. “Maybe he just got home from a job interview. Maybe he was—actually, that’s about the only one I can think of right now.”
“He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to us.”
“Didn’t your mom ever teach you not to talk to strangers?” Scar said. “I don’t blame him.”
“Still weird.” Jimmy kicked at the grass.
“Oh, it’s definitely weird.” Scar stuck his hands on his hips and surveyed the rest of the property. The backyard quickly sloped away into the treeline. It looked almost untouched save for a path worn between the back door and the forest. “I just don’t think it’s a weird we have to be worried about. We should get back. I want to make sure we have enough time to visit the grocery store before we go see Martyn.”
“Right.” Jimmy turned around. “Martyn. Can’t wait.”
Scar rocked forward on his toes and pressed the doorbell with one hand while adjusting the bag of groceries he held under the other arm. It rang for a long second, long enough he turned back towards Grian to shrug. Grian shrugged back.
“Oh.” Martyn cracked open the door, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I lost track of time.”
“No worries.” Scar smiled. “Can we come in?”
“Sure.” He stepped to the side and gestured towards the kitchen. “Kitchen’s in there. I’m sorry I haven’t cleaned up recently. I can help you deal with the dishes.”
“Nonsense.” Scar set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You guys can go catch up while I start working on this.”
“Right.” Grian stopped in the entryway and looked at Jimmy, who shrugged back at him.
“Tea?” Martyn ran a hand through his hair again.
“Sure.” Jimmy gave him a weak smile and trailed after Martyn as he wandered into the kitchen himself.
The awkward silence was somewhat filled with the sound of the bubbling electric kettle and the stream of water as Scar scrubbed at the pile of dishes in the sink. Martyn leaned against the counter and studiously avoided eye contact with any of them while Grian and Jimmy perched themselves around the kitchen table. It had seats for four, but only two of them were set with placemats.
“Nice place.” Tango settled himself so he could lean against the back of Jimmy’s chair.
Grian cast Jimmy an odd look as he shrugged at Tango’s comment before turning back towards Martyn. “How are you holding up?”
“You know.” Martyn sighed. “It comes and it goes.”
“Right.” Grian jumped slightly with the sound of the kettle. Martyn pulled out a set of mismatched mugs and started filling them with hot water. It let him buy another few moments as he dropped a tea bag in each one.
He handed them over before retreating back to his position by the counter. “So. What brings you out all the way to Oregon? It’s a long way from home.”
“Work,” Grian answered.
“You told me that earlier—but what kind of work?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh, we’re ghostbusters,” Scar offered from over his shoulder. Grian instantly winced. “Or ghost hunters, depending on how you want to call it. Grian’s business card says ‘non-dimensional exorcist’.”
“Nondenominational—” Grian corrected him on reflex before realizing what he’d admitted to. “—is what I’d say, if that was on my business card.”
“How come I don’t get a business card, Grian?” Jimmy turned to face him fully.
“If I, hypothetically, had a business card, it would, hypothetically , say ‘and associates’.” Grian sulked a little. “But I don’t have a business card that says that, of course.”
“I didn’t realize you were still into that whole thing,” Martyn observed.
“I’m not!” Grian squawked. Martyn’s silent eyebrow maintained itself. “I’m—not.”
“Jimmy’s never been good at keeping secrets.” He kept a straight face. “And your new friend volunteered plenty.”
“Fine. Yes, we hunt ghosts.” Grian squirmed into his chair. “Are you happy now?”
“A little bit surprised, mostly.” He took a sip of his tea. “Can’t imagine it pays well.”
“It’s enough.”
“How’d you end up this far out?” Jimmy put his cup down. “I didn’t think I’d see you settle down, if I’m perfectly honest.”
“I wasn’t planning to.” Martyn stared into his cup. “Then I met Ren.”
The air got colder as he settled the mug on the counter and leaned back on his arms. Scar studiously started wiping down the dishes with a towel. Grian avoided eye contact like a man with years of practice.
“I got stuck in town overnight due to an absolute freak snowstorm. Met this nice guy who offered to let me crash at his place for the night. And then I didn’t actually sleep, because we stayed up talking,” Martyn said. “I just never left.”
“Must have been some guy,” Jimmy offered softly.
“Yeah. He was.”
“Care to talk for a minute, Timmy?” Grian looked small perched on the hood of the van with his legs crossed under him. Jimmy jumped up alongside him. Somewhere in the back, Scar was setting up a sleeping bag, ready for him to get off the first shift on the cameras, and overhead the sky twinkled with hundreds of stars.
“What’s up?” Jimmy leaned back on his arms and kicked his feet idly.
“Martyn felt weird,” he said.
Jimmy shrugged a little. “He’s grieving. You can’t hold it against him.”
“Weirder than that.” Grian stared at the driveway. “He was joking about the ghost thing. When was the last time any of us did that?”
“I don’t know.” Jimmy inhaled and looked up at the sky. “It’s been years. Maybe he’s just moved on. Martyn was always making jokes anyway.”
“Something isn’t right.” Grian drew his knees up to his chin.
“Most of a decade changes people. I don’t think he’s doing great, but I don’t know what we can do about it.”
“You haven’t changed at all.” Grian poked him with an elbow. Jimmy laughed.
“I’ve gotten taller.”
“You’re insufferable.” Grian slid down to the floor. “I’m going to get some rest before it’s my turn to keep watch. You should get some sleep too.”
“In a minute.” Jimmy stretched. “The stars are nice.”
Grian sighed and wandered around to the driver’s side door before jumping in and settling down in the chair. Jimmy scooted to the side so he wasn’t blocking his view.
“Feels weird, not being able to give you any privacy.” The car creaked as Tango leaned against it.
“Listening the whole time?” Jimmy asked softly, trying not to be overheard.
“I wasn’t trying to, but you can only stare at Scar fixing his sleeping bag for so long before that starts to feel creepy too.”
“Fair enough.” Jimmy kicked his feet some more. “What do you even do at night, when we’re all asleep?”
“I can kind of zone out, if I lose track of myself.” He shuddered. “I don’t like doing that, though. Reminds me of all those years I spent in that house. Like, what happens if I actually lose it? I don’t want to get all spooky and smokey again.”
“We’d figure it out.” Jimmy said with more confidence than he felt. “I’m not going to lose you again.”
“My hero.” Jimmy felt a phantom punch on his upper arm and smiled. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Yeah, well—this hero is about to go to bed.” Jimmy laughed. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Tango.”
“See you then.”
“How’s it going, Tango?” Scar turned on reflex, though the ghost remained incorporeal.
“Hope you don’t mind if I’m hanging out.” Tango sounded apologetic. “I’m just a little bit stuck in place. You know how it is.”
“Boy, do I.” Scar gave an exaggerated sigh. “Let me tell you—you think the life of a ghost hunter is all glamor and adventure until you’re stuck watching the inside of a chicken coop for hours on end.”
Tango made a sympathetic noise. In the back, Jimmy stirred a little in his sleeping bag and they both turned to watch him until he calmed down.
“You know,” Scar started again. “I think we have a very valuable opportunity here, in that I haven’t really gotten to learn anything about you yet. Jimmy knows you, obviously, but the rest of us don’t.”
“Right.” Tango was obviously skeptical, even without a good look at his face.
“I’ll trade you a question for a question.” Scar waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll even let you start.”
“You know what? Sure.” The small desk with their cameras on it creaked as Tango leaned against it. “How did you and Grian and Jimmy meet?”
“I was doing a traveling act as a combination fortune teller and psychic.” Scar smiled. “Jimmy thought it would be a good idea to consult with a medium on the case they were working with, so he dragged Grian in. Grian thought I was faking it, but I agreed to go with them to the house just because I was curious. Of course, when I was able to figure out it was a boogeyman they were dealing with instead of just the ghost of the nice old man who owned the house before, they were suddenly much more interested in keeping me around.”
“So, you weren’t faking it?” Tango leaned in.
“A good magician never reveals his secrets.” Scar winked. “My turn: how did you and Jimmy meet?”
“He stole a horse, actually.” Tango’s voice turned wistful. “I knew one of my coworkers had been mistreating his, so when I saw someone creeping around where they were tied up, I didn’t say anything. Actually, I ran distraction. So Jimmy offered me a ride home in thanks, and then one thing turned into another and then bam. We’re on the run from the law together.”
“You were an outlaw?”
“For a little bit.” Tango sounded proud. “Managed to make it far enough west the charges didn’t stick, though. My turn: what can you actually do?’
“You mean, the psychic powers bit?” Scar shrugged. “I can see spirits, mostly. Talk to them if they’re willing to listen. Also, I can just generally pick up on the vibe of a place or see where something has been particularly active. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen so far?”
“That,” Tango said, then realized Scar couldn’t see where he was pointing. “The—whatsit. Computer? Last time I was alive, a ‘camera’ meant you got a single picture in black and white. No, I’ve changed my mind. The microwave.”
“Ah, the microwave. Truly a miracle of modern science.” Scar nodded sagely. “I don’t understand how they work either.”
“Have you ever seen Grian get all defensive like that before?” Tango asked.
“Sort of? He’s a very prickly guy when he wants to be, Grian, but that did feel a little weird.” Scar made a face. “Could just be that he doesn’t know how to deal with grief, though.”
“I don’t know,” Tango said. “It felt weird to me.”
“You know, I’d never heard Martyn’s name before. Not once.” Scar stared straight at the monitor. “It’s not that I had expected to have heard every little gritty detail of his life before—he’s pretty private about it, but not one single time.”
“Yeah, that’s weird.” Tango sighed. “It’s all weird.”
“Morning.” Scar poked Jimmy in the cheek. Jimmy sighed and rolled over.
“10 more minutes?”
“No can do,” Scar said, ominously cheerful as he pushed Jimmy back. “Your turn for watch.”
“Good morning, sunshine. Or night, I guess.” Tango laughed.
“I’m moving, I’m moving.” Jimmy sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I hate middle watch.”
Scar gave him a significant look and he peeled himself out of the sleeping bag, moving over so Scar could crawl down inside. He fished the horseshoe out of his bag as he settled in at the desk, gripping it in his left hand. Tango solidified into view sitting on top of the desk, bouncing his legs a little.
“Hello,” he offered.
“I’m still tired.” Jimmy yawned. “You and Scar have a nice time?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Glad to hear it.” He settled with his chin on his hands as he stared at the monitor. “Anything happen?”
“We just talked. Didn’t notice anything unusual.”
“I hate when we have nothing to go off of.” Jimmy sighed. “Normally that means that tomorrow night I get to sit out in the cold chicken coop with an EMF reader and a flashlight.”
“Boo.” Tango sighed. “I wonder if I’d be able to see anything.”
“Maybe, but Scar didn’t spot anything earlier of note,” Jimmy said. “I wonder if chickens don’t leave much of an impression on their environment.”
“Maybe,” Tango said, equally noncommittal. “You know, your angles on the cameras here are kind of rough. I wonder if you could—”
Jimmy stood up fast enough he almost banged his head on the roof of the van. He threw a hand over Tango’s mouth to shut him up, surprised when it actually made contact. Outside, the air was punctuated by a shrill squawk just loud enough to make it through the van walls.
It was near midnight in late summer, and Jimmy was busy considering if lying on the grass outside would make him feel any cooler. Tango sighed from his side.
“You’ve got to go to sleep, man.” He rubbed his eyes. “Cows won’t milk themselves.”
“It’s so hot.” Jimmy gave his own exaggerated sigh and rolled over. “Why is it so hot, Tango?”
“Maybe cause it’s August, dummy.” Tanglo flicked him in the forehead, face full of affection.
“You know, I ran north instead of towards California because I thought it would be less miserable up here.” Jimmy crossed his arms as he stared up towards the ceiling.
“Yeah, well, it’d be worse down there.” Tango rolled his eyes fondly, a gesture Jimmy could read even in the dark. “Now can we please try and sleep? I know you’re going to be grumpy in the morning.”
Suddenly the cozy quiet of the night was interrupted by the sounds of a flock up in arms. Jimmy ignored Tango to run downstairs and out the front door, foregoing his shoes entirely. Tango came thundering after him a second later with enough presence of mind to pick up a frying pan from the shelf.
They were too late to stop the coyote. Tango held him that night as he cried over Bessy, staring mutely at the pile of blood and feathers left on the ground. They reinforced the fence the next day.
“The chickens.” Jimmy kicked the back of Grian’s chair. “That’s an alarm call! We have to move!”
Grian jumped out of the driver’s seat in one fluid motion, already running towards the backyard. Scar took a second to slip on his sneakers but then he was running too, just about keeping pace with Jimmy with horseshoe still in hand.
The call was still happening by the time they got around to the back of the house, but any commotion had stopped. Jimmy turned the corner to see Grian poking around at the coop door with a flashlight.
“It doesn’t look like it’s been opened, I’ll say that much.” He turned back towards Jimmy and Scar before cracking open the latch. Inside was pitch black, save for Grian’s flashlight as he climbed inside. Jimmy patted at his pockets for a moment before realizing he’d forgotten his own, a look Scar sheepishly returned.
“Well.” Grian poked his head back out. “We didn’t manage to save the chickens.”
Jimmy shoved past him to get in the door, heart in his throat. The body of one of the chickens was lying unmoving on the floor, but beyond that it was difficult to make out any details. Grian’s flashlight could illuminate only parts of the scene at a time.
“I wish we had a bit more light,” Grian muttered to himself, then paused when Tango leaned in to inspect the scene. “Tango, you glow.”
“I do?” Tango looked down at himself. Sure enough, the darkness was a margin less dark around where he stood.
“Could you, you know.” He gestured outward. “Turn it up, a little?”
“I mean, I can try,” Tango offered with a brief note of amusement in his voice. He made a face of screwed-up concentration. They watched for a second as he winked and twinkled, before the light around him steadily turned into a bright glow—not enough to fully illuminate the room, but enough to give Grian’s flashlight a bit of a hand.
“Well, that’s handy.” Grian raised an eyebrow and turned back towards the chicken, reaching down to poke it before stopping mid-movement. “Maybe I should grab some gloves.”
“For goodness’ sake, Grian.” Jimmy pushed him aside and reached down himself. “It’s just a chicken. It won’t kill you.”
“When you catch salmonella, I am going to point and laugh,” Grian grumbled but let him move.
The chicken’s body was limp and shockingly cold, considering the ambient temperature. Jimmy prodded at her gingerly. It was hard to make out any detail from the surface—there were no obvious wounds or injuries, without even a feather out of place.
“Oh, I hate this.” Scar stuck his face in over Jimmy’s shoulder. “Something bad was here. Really bad.”
“Very helpful,” Grian said, voice laced with sarcasm. “Any more information you can offer?”
“It doesn’t live here. Just visiting.” Scar scrunched his face a bit more. “And it’s definitely not a human.”
Grian gave him an unimpressed glare and Scar threw his hands up in the air in response. “I don’t know what else to tell you! It has no attachment here—it’s just passing through, so there’s nothing for it to get stuck on. It’s like asking me to tell how someone organizes their bedroom from meeting them in the airport.”
Grian sighed. “We should inspect the body. I’d like to do an autopsy, but maybe that can wait until daylight.”
“Good idea.” Jimmy shuddered.
“Scar, can you go fetch some plastic bags out of the back of the bin?” Grian turned and handed the flashlight to Scar, who bounded off. Jimmy blinked after him.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re leaving the body in the van.” Grian said as if it was obvious.
“We’re what ?” Jimmy shrieked.
“Come on, Timmy.” Grian’s voice was tight. “I’m not letting it out of our sight. We inspect it first thing tomorrow morning, and then the hunt really begins.”