The Acolytes of Crane (Theodore Crane, #1)(17)

My grandpa was devoted to science. He was a graduate of some important technical college in Massachusetts. He would sometimes have fellow alumni over to ramble and reminisce of experiments or fraternity pranks. They would laugh and squirt coffee out of their hairy nostrils from some of the wild tales.

After the accident, Marvin left Universal Mill and found a job at a major scientific lab in town, working in the adhesive department. His job was to create adhesives that could be used for multiple applications. He did a lot of his research at home, and he allowed me to sit by his side for the experiments. At times, it seemed he was working on more than just adhesives in his makeshift lab.

‘Theodore, why don't we take a break from the television. I want to show you something.’

That night he was giving me lessons on chemistry within the stench of his carcinogen-clouded basement.

Chemistry was an extremely tough subject to grasp at that age, but he explained it in a way that I could understand. Marv mostly went over protons, neutrons, and molecules with me. It was all fascinating.

My grandfather's lab was a few hundred microscopes and Petri dishes short of professional. He was more of a scientific hobbyist studying in the basement. Most of his research was theoretical. It seemed that for every one experiment that he neatly explained and summarized in his notes, there were ten more experiments that he left half-complete.


He had wonderful drawings. He told me that he was onto something big. On his desk, I saw a paper that read, Metalons. As I thumbed through the diagrams, he quickly snatched the papers away from me.

‘No, no, don’t worry about these, Theodore. They are far too advanced and secret,’ he said and continued to put away the drawings of the mysterious objects, ‘Hold on tight to your dreams, my boy, because one day, you will see an adhesive scientist transform into a Nobel Prize winning hero. Okay, run along to bed.’

‘Please, Grandpa. What are metalons? It said in your notes that you thought they were fireflies.’

‘Okay. If you insist, but you must promise me that you will not say anything to anyone. Promise?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘You’re right. At first, I thought they were fireflies. One evening, when I couldn’t stop myself pruning my rose bushes, it was getting dark out. I noticed a glow from one of my roses. I could see a glow, nothing more. It seemed to be a very strange firefly, because it didn’t fly like one. So I brought the rose inside, extracted this object from the rose, and examined it on a slide.’

‘What did you see?’

‘I am not quite sure yet. It seems mechanical, but very small. I am not sure what to make of it all, but I am learning more and more everyday. Okay, that’s enough. I need to get some work done in private. Get to bed, mister.’

‘Yes sir.’ I had my fill of science, for now anyway. I jogged up the brightly painted hardwood stairs leading to the main level and continued to my room to get ready for bed.

In the very early morning, while it was still pitch dark outside, I awoke to use the bathroom. My mouth was dry, and my tongue was rough against my palate. My grandparents’ wooden floors creaked at every step I took. I tensed as every creak threatened to invade the silence of my slumbering elders.

Whenever I stepped away from the rugs, my sweaty feet created instant surface tension as my soles flattened, one at a time, on the varnished wood floor. Each time I lifted a foot, I created a “blup” sound as the water seal peeled off. When I reached the bathroom, I gently turned the knob before I shut the door, to avoid the sharp click of the latch springing out. There was no avoiding the noisy flush down the toilet.

In my grandma’s house, it was a rule to flush, no matter what. I dragged down the lever of the toilet, and as the water coursed throughout the old plumbing of the house, echoes reverberated within. I grimaced. Exiting the bathroom, I opened the door and listened for any sign of disturbance. I could hear three rumbling black-lung hacks from my gramps and a rolling swish of the blankets, to my relief, but there was no stirring.

I decided to grab a couple of cookies from the kitchen. They were enclosed in a ceramic rooster next to the sugar. I grabbed a couple of them and headed down to the basement to snoop.

The nicotine-saturated basement was dark and cold with a hint of dampness, there was a single adjustable coil light situating a beam upon a microscope at the sewing table. My grandpa showed me how to use a microscope on numerous occasions, and I used it a lot myself for my homework for high school biology. I walked toward it and fought off a cobweb that dangled from the ceiling.

I looked through the microscope to acquire an image. I realized the light beneath was turned off, but right on the slide, there was a mysterious ambient light. It was if something was calling out to me. Not needing to turn on the microscope light, I increased the magnifying power further, and strangely, the light emitted grew larger. I adjusted the microscope’s power to the highest setting, and through the lens, I saw something magical.

It was definitely something technologically advanced. I watched as tiny ice blue laser light beams shot out in all directions from the bizarre object. It was almost like the light show effect commonly associated with that gaudy disco ball. My amulet turned cool and blue, tingling against my collarbone. The light began to pulse and flash.

Was it communicating with me?

Just as my curiosity peaked, I heard a car buzzing about the roads outside. I looked out the window, wondering if it was the cops again. When the car zinged into our driveway, I heard the pattering of steps, a bang, and the shattering of something.