Fergus smiled.
Chapter 20
Ray
“This is impressive,” Ray said. They walked along the hard-packed dirt road that meandered through several dozen cabins. Some looked almost new, while others might have been around for generations. Serena Jo continued along the main walkway, motioning for Ray to follow.
“Thanks. First things first. You need to meet someone.”
She led him to one of the smaller dwellings. The structural integrity looked sound, and the porch steps were spotless. The front door opened while they were still a dozen yards away.
“Who the hell is this?” an old man said. Keen blue eyes squinted while studying Ray. A blond-haired boy stood beside him.
“Do your thing, Pops,” Serena Jo said, then moved aside.
Ray stopped at the bottom step of the porch, curious about this old man’s “thing.” Serena Jo’s father — for that’s surely who he was — approached slowly, then reached out a surprisingly youthful hand, compelling Ray to extend his own. When their hands touched, Ray felt an electric sensation in his palm. He had no idea what it meant, but he watched the expression on the old man’s face transition from suspicious to amenable.
“He’s fine,” the old man said to Serena Jo. Then to Ray, “I’m Euel Whitaker, this young lady’s daddy, but everyone calls me Skeeter. Or Pops, if they’re related to me. Welcome to Whitaker Holler.”
As he’d suspected, this was Serena Jo’s father. The shy boy standing behind him would likely be his grandson.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m Ray.”
“I know.”
“I guess Fergus must have told you.”
Skeeter didn’t reply.
The boy moved onto the porch and tugged at his mother’s sleeve. The fingers began to dance. Ray didn’t know sign language, but he recognized what it was. Serena Jo nodded occasionally throughout the visual discourse. A second boy, this one with dark hair, emerged from the cabin. He clutched a sheet of grimy paper.
“This is Harlan, my grandson, and this other’n is Cricket,” Skeeter said.
“You’re the one who was sending us candy?” the boy asked in a squeaky voice. Puberty hadn’t yet arrived at Cricket’s world.
Ray smiled. “Yes, sir. Did you like it?”
“Ain’t no such thing as bad candy,” Cricket replied, then shifted his gaze to Serena Jo. A dreamy smile emerged within the freckles.
“Harlan,” she said gently, “you know that doesn’t make any sense.”
The boy frowned, then his fingers danced more vigorously.
His mother sighed.
Cricket took the opportunity to show Serena Jo the sheet of paper. From his position, Ray could see a detailed sketch of a cabin surrounded by trees, a road leading to it, and a star-filled sky above it. He recognized the Little Dipper.
“This makes sense,” Cricket said, pointing to the stars. “Before he went missing, Mister Fergus showed me how to use my grandpappy’s old compass. I can figure out where this is. At least, I think I can. You got some maps somewhere, right Miss Serena Jo? I bet we can...” the falsetto petered out.
“Triangulate,” Skeeter offered.
“Right! Tri-ang-U-late the location.”
A slender eyebrow arched while Serena Jo pondered what her son had told her.
Ray stepped closer, studying the details of the sketch. “I think I know this place,” he said suddenly. “I’ve seen it in my drone footage. It was a while ago, though.”
“There you go!” said Cricket. “Between me and Harlan and Candy Man, I bet we can find Willa and Mister Fergus in the cabin where Harlan dreamed ‘em.”
Serena Jo gazed with skepticism at the earnest face. “Even if I believed in this astral projection business, you’ve never embraced learning since I’ve known you, Cricket. You’re telling me now you know how to use a compass to navigate with the stars?”
“I figured out Harlan’s signin’, didn’t I? And just ‘cuz I ain’t smart like him and Willa don’t mean I’m a goober. I’m smart about things they ain’t. Mister Fergus taught me how to use the compass when nobody else was around. I took to it natural, just like Harlan with his drawing and Willa with her words and book-writin’.”
Ray smiled at the eagerness. “What do we have to lose?” he said quietly.
“Time,” Serena Jo snapped. Then she sighed. “All right, Cricket. I’ll get out the maps.” Turning to her son, she said, “Later, you and I are going to have a long talk about these dreams.”
Soon after, the small group clustered around a primitive wooden table inside the cabin, studying a set of well-worn maps. Ray assumed the penciled lines drawn on the topmost map indicated the village’s extended perimeter. Another included the entire state of Tennessee. Others were printouts of Google satellite images depicting swaths of the Smoky Mountain National Park. Ray recognized some of the locations from his drone footage, but he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint them without accessing his computer. One pictured an aerial view of the self-storage facility and his warehouse home. A part of him longed to be there now, but another part — a larger part — relished the recent social interactions.
The two boys, both small but otherwise polar opposites, studied the maps together. Harlan’s eyes matched the gold of his mother’s. Cricket’s hazel version darted about like a hummingbird. Harlan signed, Cricket nodded, then moved the ancient compass back and forth between the drawing, the map, and the aerial images.
Ray held no hope for the process, even if Harlan’s star-scape was accurate. It simply didn’t make sense that coordinates could be gleaned from whatever the boys were doing.
Finally, Harlan smiled. Cricket’s grin was even wider, and his hazel
