“So it was luck that you stumbled across the monster,” Temi mused, “and luck that brought it to your camp last night.”
“As far as I know.” Since Simon had ridiculed me for thinking we had something that might be drawing the creature, I didn’t bring up the theory again. It seemed even more unlikely now that I knew the whatever-it-was had come from out of state. Surely we didn’t have anything that intriguing in the back of the van.
“Where do the Harley riders come in?”
“They were at both spots too. And both times, they showed up after the creature had killed someone.” I felt silly saying creature over and over, but I didn’t know what else to call this mystery being. It wasn’t a bear, no matter what the newspapers said, and I wasn’t ready to add jibtab to my daily vocabulary yet. I’d filled Simon in on Eleriss and our strange conversation, but using such terms would draw confused looks from the general population.
“What is the plan now?” Temi asked.
“I’ve been instructed by the police to avoid monster hunting. It’s also been suggested by multiple parties that I might want to get out of town. Or out of state.” I thought of Eleriss’s proclamation that Alaska would be a suitable destination. I wish I remembered more of that conversation. He’d said something about finding “that which can destroy” the creature. Some super powerful tool or weapon? Located in Prescott? That seemed about as likely as a week passing without our van needing one repair or another, but it wouldn’t take much to convince me to run off into the woods after some unique relic from a bygone era.
“Will you heed either of those suggestions?” Temi had known me at a time when I would have ignored any advice to stay out of trouble, but I’d grown up since then, at least a little.
“Believe it or not, I probably will. I’m insanely curious about those riders and their strange language, but we need to focus on our business and on activities that pay the bills. You know, grownup stuff.”
“Wise.”
To Temi’s credit, she didn’t sound shocked or disappointed by my choice. I guess she’d grown up a little too.
My phone flashed a text message alert. Simon.
Van is fixed. Ready to roll? I have an idea.
I must have frowned because Temi asked, “What is it?” in a concerned tone of voice.
I showed her the message.
“An idea? What does that mean?” she asked.
“Nothing related to grownup stuff, I bet.”
CHAPTER 10
Simon ordered a burger from the bored man cleaning glasses at the bar-business still hadn’t picked up-then veered over to join us. He dragged over another chair, and I pushed my laptop to the side. We could have moved to a bigger table, but he didn’t suggest leaving the sacred outlet. Also, he’d been bouncing from foot-to-foot while he placed his order, so I knew he was impatient to share his news. He gave Temi a nervous glance though, apparently remembering his shyness around girls now that we weren’t busy chasing motorcycles.
“What’s your idea?” I asked him. “And how much will it cost?”
“Nothing.” He focused on me and grinned. “It’s already been implemented.”
“Irrevocably?”
Somehow Simon managed to shoot me a dirty look without losing the grin. “No. Do you remember those collars I made for your uncle this summer?”
“The GPS tracking collars for his hunting dogs? I mostly remember you cussing out Taos because you couldn’t find a decent electronics store.”
“Yes, I made that app and a few trial devices before I had two that were sturdy enough to stay on a pointer hurling itself around in the brush. I still have those prototypes in the van, or had rather.”
I glanced at Temi and lowered my voice. “You didn’t… put the collars on someone, did you?” I imagined some homeless fellow sleeping on a bench under a newspaper with a dog chain around his neck before it occurred to me to wonder why Simon wanted to track someone anyway.
“No, of course not. But I took the trackers off and taped them on something.”
“On what?” Temi asked, her chin propped in one hand. She seemed to find this admission of clandestine detective work amusing rather than alarming. If she started working with us, she’d learn better soon enough.
“It’s more of an in really.”
“Simon,” I whispered in exasperation.
“The tailpipes of a couple of Harleys.” He pulled out his phone and opened an app. A map of Prescott came up.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to decide if I was horrified or intrigued. Or both.
“Why do you want to track them?” Temi asked.
“Del said they’re trying to find some tool or weapon to kill that monster. If it’s something old that they’re prying out of the earth, I’m sure she’ll be interested. She also wants a sample of their language. If they don’t know we’re around, I’m sure they’ll speak freely.” He held up his phone, which happened to be opened to a voice recording application.
“You’re being awfully… considerate of my interests.” I squinted at him. “Why do I have a feeling you have ulterior motives?”
Simon smiled innocently. “I’m certain I don’t know.”
“Anyone been by our blog to read your story?”
His smile widened. “Oh, we’ve had oodles of visitors. I had to talk to our hosting provider a while ago, because we crashed on account of all the traffic using up our monthly bandwidth quota. In two hours.” He waved like some self-important Vegas prognosticator and proclaimed, “It all happened just like I thought it would. Wired and BoingBoing picked us up, and I don’t know how many lesser blogs.”
Temi’s mouth quirked, as if she didn’t know if she should be impressed or not.
“Uh huh, and did we get any orders?” I asked.
“No, but that’s not how it works,” Simon said. “It’s the links from these big sites that count. The traffic is cool, but you’re right in that it won’t be targeted to our business. It’ll all be people interested in the monster story. Although…” He drummed his fingers in his Star-Wars-Imperial-March pattern. “If I acted quickly, maybe I could put together some T-shirts or something. We wouldn’t make a ton, but merchandising could be good for a few bucks.”
“Merchandising?” I mouthed to Temi.
She shrugged back at me.
“I don’t have any artistic talent, but maybe I could do something with the pictures I got,” Simon went on. “I wish I had one of the monster. I mostly have mutilated bodies. That’s kind of garish for a T-shirt, right?”
“You think?” I asked.
Temi was more tactful than I, forgoing sarcasm to simply say, “Yes.”
“I did put some impression-based advertising on the site when I saw all the traffic,” Simon said. “We’ve already made thirty dollars today.”
I kept myself from rolling my eyes-barely. Money was money, I supposed, but I wanted to succeed doing something that added value to the world, or at least made someone happy. True, an antique steam shovel probably wouldn’t grant anyone eternal bliss, but that fellow had been pleased to find one for his collection.
Simon switched to another app. “They’re not doing anything.”