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The hallway compacted like an aluminum can flattened by pressure and suddenly I was airborne. I hurtled through the air, straight at Mad Rogan. Fate threw us at each other. I could never tell Grandma.
Augustine squinted at the two track vehicles—a tank and a mobile flamethrower. “What exactly does your grandmother do?” “She tinkers,” I told him.
“What do you mean, the way we’ve been acting?” Augustine leaned back. “Have you ever seen a betta fish?” I asked. “Of course.” “Well, when you and Rogan come into each other’s view, you act like two male betta fishes. You puff your fins out and swim around trying to intimidate each other. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and everyone will realize that it’s really about the two of you and I’m just collateral damage. Everything will be fine.” “I take offense at that,” Augustine said. “You’re giving Augustine too much credit,” Rogan said. “His fins don’t impress me.”
Leon had decided that the video needed narration and provided running commentary as it was being recorded. Apparently, he found the whole thing incredibly exciting. The camera panned to capture two ATVs approaching from the north. “Oh yeah, we got ourselves a badass killer vehicle,” my cousin’s voice came from the speakers. “We’re so cool, we’re so cool, we’re going to roll up and kill everybody. Wait, what? Oh no, is that a tank? It is a tank. It’s headed straight for us. Run, run, run . . . Too late. Hehehe.”
Leon zoomed in on the man in his forties on the right, who’d crouched by the ATV. “I’m a veteran badass. I’ve seen bad shit. I’ve done bad shit. I’ve survived five months in a jungle eating pinecones and killing terrorists with a pair of old chopsticks. I’m one bad motherfucker.” Behind me Rogan laughed. “I’ve got two days to retirement. After I kill everyone here, I’ll go to my retirement party. They’ll serve shrimp on crackers and give me a gold watch, and then, I’m going to have my midlife crisis and buy a Porsche and . . . Oh shit, my head just exploded.”
“I’m death. I’m a ghost. I’ll find you. You can run, you can hide, you can beg, but none of it will help you. I’ll come for you in the darkness like a lithe panther with velvet paws and steel claws and . . . wait, brains, wait, where are you going? Why are you all leaking out of my head? Don’t leave me!” I put my hand over my eyes. “Oh no, look—my feet are twitching. That’s so undignified.” I would kill Bern for letting him do this. And then I would have a serious talk with Leon.
“I’m Mr. Ripped,” the computer announced in Leon’s voice. I didn’t even want to look anymore. “I live in the gym. My teeth have biceps and my biceps have teeth. I chew up weights and shit out lead bricks.” Rogan’s face turned speculative. “Don’t,” I told him. “In about three years or so, I could use him. He’s demonstrating a very specific moral flexibility . . .”
Two severely groomed people in tactical gear double-timed it past us. The one on the left was leading what looked like an abnormally large grizzly on a ridiculously thin leather leash. The grizzly wore a leather harness marked “Sergeant Teddy.” My mother’s mouth hung open. Grandma Frida elbowed my mom in the ribs. “Pinch me, Penelope. It’s Fort Sill.” I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
I finally understood why he was called Mad Rogan. It wasn’t because he was insane. It was because he drove you nuts with sheer frustration.
“I’ll need another drone,” Bug said. “Ferrets,” Cornelius said. All of us looked at him. “Ferrets?” Augustine asked. “It’s a domesticated form of European polecat,” Cornelius said. “Closely related to weasels, minks, and stoats.” “I know what a ferret is,” Augustine said, obviously making a heroic effort to be patient. “I’m asking how ferrets would help us retrieve the computer.”
“You want to send in harnessed ferrets through a laundry vent?” Augustine clearly had difficulty coming to terms with that idea.
“Use the small tooth,” Cornelius intoned. “Open the burrow.” “I’m in a Disney movie,” Augustine said, his face disgusted. One of the ferrets reached over and pulled a tiny screwdriver out of the ferret-badger’s harness. The beast raised it up and put it into the screw. The other ferret squeezed it and the electric screwdriver whirred quietly, pulling the screw out. The screwdriver slipped. The ferret patiently repositioned it again. Augustine blinked.
“Baranovsky admitted to having the video but he was assassinated before we could get to it,” I said. “So we used a covert team of ferrets to break into the house and retrieve it from his computer.” Lenora stared at me. I felt two inches tall. “Ferrets?” “Yes.” “To be accurate, two ferrets and one ferret-badger,” Rogan said.
The one who started every first lecture with ‘What you need to understand is ancient Greeks were predominantly homosexual.’”
“She and I are immune. She is our sister. We already love her as much as we can.”
