Lena’s hair blew around her shoulders as we walked past him. Only he didn’t even look at us. He was too busy looking past us. “What the—”
I turned and looked over my shoulder just in time to see hundreds of neon green flyers, curling away from windshields and out of stacks and boxes and vans and hands. Flying away in a sudden gust of wind, as if they were a flock of birds soaring into the clouds. Escaping and beautiful and free. Kind of like that Hitchcock movie The Birds, only in reverse.
We could hear the shrieking until the heavy metal doors closed behind us.
Lena smoothed her hair. “Crazy weather you have down here.”
12.06
Lost and Found
I was almost relieved it was Saturday. There was something comforting about spending the day with women whose only magical powers were forgetting their own names. When I arrived at the Sisters’, Aunt Mercy’s Siamese cat, Lucille Ball—the Sisters loved I Love Lucy—was “exercising” in the front yard. The Sisters had a clothesline that ran the length of the yard, and every morning Aunt Mercy put Lucille Ball on a leash and hooked it onto the clothesline so the cat could exercise. I had tried to explain that you could let cats outside and they would come back whenever they felt like it, but Aunt Mercy had looked at me like I’d suggested she shack up with a married man. “I can’t just let Lucille Ball wander the streets alone. I’m sure someone would snatch her.” There hadn’t been a lot of catnappings in town, but it was an argument I’d never win.
I opened the door, expecting the usual commotion, but today the house was noticeably quiet. A bad sign. “Aunt Prue?”
I heard her familiar drawl coming from the back of the house. “We’re on the sun porch, Ethan.”
I ducked under the doorway of the screened-in porch to see the Sisters scuttling around the room, carrying what looked like little hairless rats.
“What the heck are those?” I said without even thinking.
“Ethan Wate, you watch your mouth, or I’ll have ta wash it out with soap. You know better than ta use pro-fanity,” Aunt Grace said. Which, as far as she was concerned, included words like panties, naked, and bladder.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. But what is that you’ve got in your hand?”
Aunt Mercy rushed forward and thrust her hand out, with two little rodents sleeping in it. “They’re baby squirrels. Ruby Wilcox found them in her attic last Tuesday.”
“Wild squirrels?”
“There are six of ’em. Aren’t they just the cutest things you ever saw?”
All I could see was an accident waiting to happen. The idea of my ancient aunts handling wild animals, babies or otherwise, was a frightening thought. “Where did you get them?”
“Well, Ruby couldn’t take care of ’em—” Aunt Mercy started.
“On account a that awful husban’ a hers. He won’t even let her go ta the Stop & Shop without tellin’
him.”
“So Ruby gave them ta us, on account a the fact that we already had a cage.”
The Sisters had rescued an injured raccoon after a hurricane and nursed it back to health. Afterward, the raccoon ate Aunt Prudence’s lovebirds, Sonny and Cher, and Thelma put the raccoon out of the house, never to be spoken of again. But they still had the cage.
“You know squirrels can carry rabies. You can’t handle these things. What if one of them bites you?”
Aunt Prue frowned. “Ethan, these are our babies and they are just the sweetest things. They wouldn’t bite us. We’re their mammas.”
“They are just as tame as they can be, aren’t y’all?” Aunt Grace said, nuzzling one of them.
All I could imagine was one of those little vermin latching onto one of the Sisters’ necks and me having to drive them to the emergency room to get the twenty shots in the stomach you have to get if you’re bitten by a rabid animal. Shots that I’m sure at their age might kill any one of them.
I tried to reason with them, a complete waste of time. “You never know. They’re wild animals.”
“Ethan Wate, clearly you are not an animal lover. These babies would never hurt us.” Aunt Grace scowled at me disapprovingly. “And what would you have us do with ’em? Their mamma is gone.
They’ll die if we don’t take care of ’em.”
“I can take them over to the ASPCA.”
Aunt Mercy clutched them against her chest protectively. “The ASPCA! Those murderers. They’ll kill ’em for sure!”
“That’s enough talk about the ASPCA. Ethan, hand me that eye dropper over there.”
“What for?”
“We have ta feed them every four hours with this little dropper,” Aunt Grace explained. Aunt Prue was holding one of the squirrels in her hand, while it sucked ferociously on the end of the dropper. “And once a day, we have ta clean their little private parts with a Q-tip, so they’ll learn ta clean themselves.”
That was a visual I didn’t need.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“We looked it up on the E-nternet.” Aunt Mercy smiled proudly.