“Yeah, you owe us. No more cryptograms.”
Ross eyed his companion admirably, wishing he could use words the way she did.
The store owner seemed about to respond, but once again his wife dissuaded him. “Come on now, Walter. They’ve waited this long. Let’s not spoil the surprise.”
There was nothing the two discouraged captives could do but sit and wait as the van bounced its way down the poorly maintained forest road.
“I don’t much like surprises.” Ross Ed lay down on the bed, his long legs draped uncomfortably over the end.
“Well, you’ll like this one, son. I guarantee it.”
Another hour’s casual driving brought them to a turnoff which was little more than an overgrown track. Broken stems and branches showed where many vehicles had preceded the van. With high reeds blocking the view off to their right, it was impossible to see anything that looked like a real road, but Martha seemed to know exactly where she was going.
The reeds opened up to reveal a silvery shimmering: a mountain lake bordered by more cattails and high ponderosa pines. As they turned toward the gleaming body of water, Ross thought he could make out lights bobbing in the darkness. The unfulfilled moon helped.
A few headlights showed where the others had parked. The weaving points of illumination he’d seen from the van were produced by flashlights and lanterns of varying strength. Martha pulled the van in between a late-model Lincoln and a big Dodge ramcharger.
“Well, we’re here.” Her husband slid forward, opened the side door, and stepped our. “Let’s go.” He was staring off into the darkness. “I think James and Jenny brought our outfits. Sorry we don’t have any for you two.”
“Yes,” agreed Martha as she came around the front of the van to rejoin them. “I’m afraid we wouldn’t have anything to fit you anyway, young man. But if you stay in the background there shouldn’t be any problem.” She’d brought the shotgun with her, Ross noted.
“I’ll be back in a jif.” Her husband disappeared in the direction of the lake.
His wife gestured with the riot gun. “No last-minute heroics, please. Gunfire here would spoil everything.”
“Take it easy.” I ain’t the heroic type.” Feeling a hand on his arm, Ross looked down to see Caroline batting her lashes at him.
“Aw, c’mon, I bet you could be if you had to.”
“Well, I don’t have to. Can’t you be serious for a moment?”
“If I strain real hard I can sometimes manage it,” she told him, clinging tighter to his arm.
“That’s the spirit, dear. Really, you have nothing to worry about.” She looked off to her left. “I see they’re setting up.”
Between lake and forest was a low grassy area; too muddy to qualify as a real meadow, too dry to pass for lake bottom. The store owners’ numerous and oddly assorted friends were milling about there, well away from their cars. Thanks to the abundant artificial light, Ross Ed could see that they were all dressed alike, though he couldn’t make out any details.
Walter returned carrying two sets of neatly folded and pressed clothing. While his wife looked on he donned a satin overcape with billowing sleeves. Bright gold, it wrapped around and snugged at the waist with a silver sash, the combination an odd mix of the ultramodern and medieval. Unrecognizable insignia and designs had been woven into the overcape with brightly colored thread. His head remained unadorned, which allowed Ross Ed to relax. He’d been half expecting a tall, pointy cap of some kind.
Taking the shotgun from his wife, the store owner kept watch while she slipped into her own identical outfit. After they traded back, he climbed into the open van and reemerged with Jed cradled gently in his arms. The six limbs hung limp but the head and neck, as always, remained stiff and perpendicular to the spine.
“Who are you people, really?” the uneasy Texan demanded to
“Why, we are the Circle of Knowers.” The woman gestured cheerfully with the Mossburg. “Hurry up, now. We’re almost ready.” There was an excitement, a tension in her voice that Ross Ed hadn’t noticed before.
“Knowers of what?” Caroline inquired as they were marched toward the near-meadow.
“Why, the visitations, of course. Honestly, the information that the so-called news media conceal! Sometimes I think no one else besides the Knowers know how to read between the lines. Don’t you see the images on your television set that They don’t mean for you to see?”
Though it was difficult in the darkness, Ross Ed tried to count flashlights and forms. He estimated between thirty and forty overcaped supplicants had formed a crescent-shaped line near the back of the scruffy meadow, facing the lake. Their vehicles were parked well away from this staging area.
“I guess not,” he finally replied. “I don’t read the papers or watch the news on TV much. Too depressing.”
“Well, I do.” Caroline flipped her hair back, not wanting to miss anything. “I’m so ‘up’ most of the time that I need an occasional dose of depression to bring me back to Earth.”
The woman chuckled unexpectedly. “’Bring you back to Earth.’ That’s very good, dear. Very appropriate.”
“So what are we doing here?” Caroline pressed the woman. “Let me guess: it’s the local midnight-fishing derby. The big mouth who catches the biggest bigmouth gets another star sewn on his or her cape.”
Her sarcasm didn’t faze Martha in the slightest. “You’re righter than you know, dear. We are sort of going fishing, but not for bass. You see, it’s well known that the Visitors will come to rescue any of their kind that they know to be in trouble.”
“Rescue?” Then the dawn of realization broke over Ross Ed, and it was no less cloudy than these folks’ thinking. He knew enough to recognize a cult when he saw one.
“So that’s it. Y’all are a bunch of saucer nuts!”
“And you’re worried that I might provoke them.” Caroline shook her head slowly.
The woman took no umbrage at the undiplomatic judgment. “We don’t really think they use flying saucers. We have no knowledge of the true nature of their ships’ shapes, since no one’s ever made a proper picture or recording of one. But as to their presence and motivations we have no doubt.”
“Because?” Caroline prompted.
The woman smiled. “Because we are the Circle of Knowers.”
“There you are.” Caroline spread both palms upward. “Quod erat demonstrandum.”
“Don’t mock, dear. It doesn’t become you. Especially in Latin. Yes, we are the Knowers, working silently, gathering our tiny bits and scraps of information, hoping each day to learn a little more, to one day perhaps even make contact. And then you two happen along, with your priceless cargo. Drive right up to our place you do, and if Walter hadn’t happened to peek inside your van, we never would have known. Of course, he knew right away what it was. Waiter’s been a Knower for nigh on thirty years.”
“This little midnight soiree.” Caroline indicated the gathering. “Ever done this before?”
