The Light Brigade - Chapter 8
Will slept fitfully that night. He dreamed that squirrels were chasing him through town chattering, ‘Feed the squirrel.’
This is an installment of my new serialized middle grade novel - The Light Brigade. When new kid in town Will finds himself in the midst of a sea of brainwashed middle schoolers, he has to join the Light Brigade, an unlikely group of heroes, to save them. Can he trust the Man Upstairs who guides them with fortune cookie directions? Will he find his place in the Brigade? Will he be able to stop the shadowy New Moon Group from forcing his classmates to collect acorns for a cartoon squirrel until they all collapse? Subscribed? Get caught up here.
Will slept fitfully that night. He dreamed that squirrels were chasing him through town chattering, ‘Feed the squirrel.’ He ran into the school thinking that he would be able to escape them only to find that all of his classmates had turned into squirrels who chorused, ‘The squirrel is very, very hungry,’ over and over until Will woke up in a cold sweat.
Will went downstairs to get a drink of water, still shaken by the nightmare. It had been quite a while since he had had such a bad dream, though he had been plagued by them when he was younger. It’s just the pressure of the crisis getting to me, he thought, I’m fine. Still, he whispered the St. Michael prayer for heavenly protection as he drifted off to sleep.
Before dawn, Will awoke with a start once more. His clock said it was just a little after five, and he figured he wouldn’t get back to sleep again. He got up and dressed, wondering if it was too early to go over to the Queen Anne. He decided to wait a bit until it got a little lighter. He went downstairs to make himself a cup of tea to help him properly wake up.
His mother was already downstairs having her prayer time, her rosary beads making a faint clicking in time to the creak of her rocking chair. It reminded Will of when he was younger, and he would sneak downstairs to snuggle back to sleep in her lap. Given everything he was going through, he kind of regretted he was too old for that now.
“Hey, Mom,” Will whispered.
His mom jumped. “Goodness, Will! You scared me. What are you doing awake so early?”
“I just couldn’t sleep. Want me to make you some tea?”
“That would be lovely. Green please,” she said, returning to her prayers.
A short while later, Will’s mother came into the kitchen just as he was pulling the tea bags out of the water. Gratefully accepting her tea, she said, “Anything bothering you? I’m usually complaining about you oversleeping not getting up at the crack of dawn.”
Will sipped his tea as nonchalantly as he could, burning his tongue in the attempt. He decided that he needed to confide in his parents some of what was going on – he didn’t think he’d be able to carry this burden by himself. “You know Sydney Wilson? From church? She was sick at school yesterday. Just collapsed, and they don’t know why. I just hope she’s ok.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry to hear that! Hopefully she’ll get better soon. I’ll have to check in with her mom today at work. Did I tell you she works at the mill in Research & Development?”
“Huh, I didn’t know that,” said Will. I’m surprised it’s only half the town that works for the New Moon Group. It feels like almost everyone, he thought.
“Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you some eggs or something?”
“I have a meeting with my study group again this morning. One of them is going to have breakfast for us, so I’ll be eating there.”
“Ok, honey. Try not to worry too much; it’s all going to work out.”
Will tried to put a smile on his face as he finished his tea and headed out the door, taking with him the longest book he could find, hoping it would last him through the day. Soon, he was at the Queen Anne. Even though the sky was just now getting light, several of the second floor windows were lit up. Looks like Mr. Turner is up already, thought Will, what’s up with all these grownups getting up so early?
The door open promptly after the usual scan despite the early hour. As Will was hanging up his bag, Mr. Turner came running down the stairs, scaring Will half to death.
“My you’re here early Will! Trying not to be the last this time?” boomed Mr. Turner, far too loud for so early in the morning.
“Why are you running?” asked Will, still taking deep breaths to try to calm himself.
“Running? Was I running? I guess I was just excited! I finally cracked the encoding so we can hear the message being played at school.”
“That’s great,” said Will, “Is it all right if I go grab some breakfast?”
“Go right ahead, my boy! There’s always plenty of food for everyone. Just tap the Breakfast Bandit on the nose to wake him up.” Mr. Turner headed through another door off the entryway into the living room.
Will himself headed into the kitchen and got the robotic chef to start cooking him some hashbrowns and scrambled eggs. As he made himself another cup of tea, he thought again about his conversation with his father the day before. Mr. Turner seems so nice, but what if he really wasn’t to be trusted. What if he plays something that he says is the recording but is really just something that he made. How could you tell if it is real or fake?
Over the next hour, the other kids trickled in, looking much more perky than Will. He wished that the stress of the crisis would roll off his back as easily. Then again, it’s probably because they have gone through so much already, thought Will.
A little while later, Mr. Turner bustled in to start the meeting. “I have successfully decoded the messages in the recording,” he said, tapping a button on his tablet.
Will couldn’t see any speakers, but the room was filled with the same music as before. “Here is the original audio,” said Mr. Turner. Sliding his finger across the screen, the music faded, leaving a computerized voice. “And this is what was hidden in the music.”
The voice was droning the same phrases over and over, “Play Acorn Grab. Feed the squirrel. The New Moon Group is the savior of Milltown. Play Acorn Grab. It was a long day at school. The squirrel is very, very, hungry. Play Acorn Grab. Milltown is nothing without the New Moon Group. You are tired from all your work. Play Acorn Grab. Feed the squirrel…”
Mr. Turner stopped the recording. “It repeats from there. Obviously, there are the main messages about playing Acorn Grab. But there are also ones about the New Moon Group.”
Gabriella raised her hand. “What was the part about being tired?”
“Ah, yes,” said Mr. Turner, “there also seem to be a couple messages to give the people a reason why they are so tired. Probably a way to help them cope.”
Something about the messages were bugging Will, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Then he remembered his nightmare from the night before. “Hey,” he said, “Some of those messages were in my dream last night. The ‘feed the squirrel’ one and ‘the squirrel is very, very hungry’ one. How can that be?”
Austin said, “It’s just your subconscious, obviously. Even though we aren’t affected, our minds are still noticing the messages.”
“Very good, my boy,” said Mr. Turner, “Yes, I would say that all of you have these messages in your subconscious just like those really affected. The parasite must weaken the minds ability to ignore the message so that the person does what it says.”
Everyone seemed a little disturbed by the idea that these messages had taken up residence in their brains, even if they weren’t hurting them. Will, though, was also greatly relieved. The Light Brigade really were the good guys. Those words were in his dream before Mr. Turner played the recording, so Mr. Turner must be telling the truth. The New Moon Group is the problem. Now that we know what the problem is, surely we’ll be able to solve it, he thought.
Will raised his hand. “Mr. Turner,” he said, “my dad told me something kind of concerning yesterday. He said that the New Moon Group has bought the local radio station, and that they are trying to buy the grocery store.”
Mr. Turner furrowed his brow. “You’re right, that is concerning. What do you think it means?”
Will was surprised by the question – wasn’t it obvious what it meant? “Well, I thought that probably they were going to try to expand the mind control to the whole town.”
Mr. Turner nodded, rubbing his chin. He really seemed to be considering what Will had to say. Could he really value his opinion so much? “I agree with your assessment,” he said, “It seems like the school is a test run for a bigger project.”
Tamara raised her hand, “Thanks for the recording Mr. Turner. Ok guys, today, we’re going to need to scope out some ways to stop the messages and to distribute the antiparasitic. How is that coming, Mr. Turner?” Will was a bit taken aback by the authority in her voice, but the others just listened to her attentively.
“Just swimmingly! I expect that it will be ready tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” she said, giving Mr. Turner a high five.
“It’s almost time for school,” said Mr. Turner, “so I had better give you the message from the Man Upstairs. The message is for Austin and Will: Search for the source. We will continue our discussion this afternoon, so I will see you then.”
Will was hopeful that things were looking up as he followed the rest to the entryway. But I wonder what source he’s talking about, he thought as he slung his backpack over his shoulder and stepped out into the crisp fall morning, already on a mission that he didn’t even know he had.