Hornets and Others

my story. The A-6 circuitry was altered and fixed, and the ghost in Y- 12 appeared no more. In fact, my story would end here if not for one thing. You see, a curious thing ensued. During the cleanup before the government inspector arrived that morning, I took the printout sheets from Y- 12's ghost messages. I put them into a drawer, intending to show them to my wife when I was able to tell her the story after the security lid on the Y-12 project was lifted, and promptly forgot about them. A few years later, when I was leaving my position for a new one, I came across them while clearing out my desk; I almost tossed them in the wastebasket but then remembered what they were and took a close look. And I found, as I said, a curious thing.'

The stranger paused, and, with his eyes, took in his audience who, he was delighted to see, was a captive one; even the somewhat impatient Hewetson was leaning forward in his chair, his attention fixed on the stranger's next words. 'And what I found,' the stranger continued, 'was that between the lines of type, in the blank spaces, a kind of raised lettering had appeared. And, on rubbing at this lettering lightly with a pencil, I discovered a most chilling and interesting message. I tried to get in touch with Robert Lonnigan, who was not to be found; and I tried to get in touch with old Bushyager who, it turned out, was dead—which only deepened my feeling of alarm. For there, printed between all the lines of Fleishman Bushyager's input, was a strange message.'

There was a moment of silence and then, with a flourish, the stranger produced the very printout he had been speaking of, spreading it out before their eager eyes.

'I, Robert Bushyager,' it read, 'am here.' And on the very last line, at the end of the printout, 'And I, Fleishman Bushyager, with him.' And under that, 'Tell the other Robert his father forgives him.'

'Capital!' cried Porutto, the stranger's sponsor, and there were cries of delight all around.

And, after another filling of glasses and stoking of the red-coaled fire, a vote was made, and a toast proposed and accepted, and another member of the Genial Hauntings Club welcomed.

Billy the Fetus

Soon as I growed ears I heered things. My Mammy was a-singin' all the time, 'bout all kinds a-things—'bout the Moon, which was made a-cheese, 'bout flowers and bees and dogs that be a-barkin' in the dusty streets. She even sang 'bout the dusty streets themselves, what the clouds o' dust looked like when the stage rolled in or wagons pulled out from the genr'l store. I got me a fine picture o' the world from Mammy's singin'—a fuzzy place with a giant Moon made a-cheese hangin' overhead, which you could see sometimes through th' dust while the dogs a-barked.

She even sang about my Pappy:

Will Bonney 's gone,

Gone to the devil,

The devil ain't happy,

And that's on the level.

Shot through the liver,

Then shot through the heart,

Will Bonney 's gone,

'Fore Billy Bonney's start...

That Billy Bonney she be singin' 'bout, that'd be me, I figured.

I figured lots o' things, floatin' there in that watery sac in my Mammy, with the fuzziest sounds filtering through. Couldn't smell no dust, as I hadn't growed a nose yet, and I couldn't wait for seein' the dogs when I growed eyes. When Mammy really got to gigglin', she'd sing some o' the rest o' her song about my Pappy:

Will was a fighter

He fought 'em with his gun,

They put him six feet under

'Fore it all was done.

Many a man went before him

Into a dusty grave,

For Will was fast—

Lord, fast with his hands!—

And nothin' if he wasn't brave.

I could just see my Pappy out there in the street, shootin' under the big ol' Moon a-cheese through the settling dust, mowin' them other fellers down with his six-gun. And he musta had a good reason, 'cause Mammy, when she got to tinklin' the glasses, sometimes sang the last part o' her song about m' Pappy:

Will Bonney had another gun, too,

And he used it just as fast,

And now little Billy's comin' along—

But Lord, that's just the past!

So if you meet Will Bonney in Hades,

Be sure to say hello,

From the gal and babe he left behind

While he dances down below...

There usually came gigglin' after that, and more glass tinklin', and then the bouncy ride, and then the pokin' thing, and loud noises, and Mammy yellin', and some feller-not-my-Pappy yellin', and then the really loud noise which I didn't understand but thought might be the Moon a-cheese fallin' out of the sky.

And that's the way I went along for a while, while my hands and feet growed a bit, looking like flippers, and my eyes growed too, and my brain I guess, and I floated and dreamed of the Moon a- cheese and wondered what the bouncy ride was, and the pokin' thing, and the feller-not-my-Pappy groanin' and yellin', every time a different feller, it seemed to me, and the loud noise like the Moon a-cheese fallin' from the sky —a noise as loud as my Pappy's six-gun.

And then one day while it was all happenin' again, the bouncy ride and such, and some feller-not-my-Pappy a-gruntin' and yellin', I suddenly figured it out!

As if my brain had growed just big enough to make me see, it became as clear as the Moon a-cheese in the sky!

That feller-not-my-Pappy was tryin' to kill me!

And he was hurtin' my Mammy!

Hurtin' her plenty, I'd say, she was a moanin' and groanin' so, and now he was tryin' to kill me for sure, for here came the pokin' thing, a weapon if there ever was one—maybe even a six-gun!—jabbin' up from below and tryin' to bust my floatin' sac!

Well, no, sir, that wasn't gonna happen at all—nobody was gonna hurt my Mammy—and nobody was gonna kill Billy Bonney like they killed my Pappy!

Nobody was gonna make me go below, down to the devil, and make me dance!

Not me, the son of Will Bonney!

I had to do something about it—

So I did.

'I'm a-comin', Mammy!' I hollered, though I didn't have much of a mouth yet, and the little noises came out like the bubble farts I made sometimes in the floatin' sac.