Chirp

by

Pepper L. Bauer

The fleeing cricket made a distinctive crunch as Megan’s heel ground it into the dirt. Her foot darted out, trying to stop several other crickets as they skittered over the rocks and grass. She laughed; this was great fun.

Megan’s friend, Jamie, stood uncomfortably at her side and shifted from foot to foot. "Please don’t do that," she pleaded. Megan laughed, "What’s the matter woose-woman? Scared of bugs?"

The two girls were exploring an old, overgrown cemetery. It was an interesting place to investigate. Antique tombstones with quaint epitaphs stood as mossy sentinels over long forgotten existences. They read the tombstones and made up stories about the lives of the grave inhabitants. The friends loved looking at the age-old dates on the headstones. As two thoroughly modern teenagers, the girls had a hard time imagining living that long ago.

Thick vegetation grew uncontrolled over everything. It covered the rocks, markers, and trees, grabbing at Megan and Jamie’s legs as they pushed their way through the foliage to peer at the tombstones.

Megan found another toppled grave marker, lifted it up, and started stomping all the crickets that ran for cover. "Don’t," Jamie shouted. "I don’t like you to kill things just for the heck of it. It makes me nervous. In fact, this whole place is starting to make me uncomfortable." She looked around furtively. "I feel like we’re being watched."

Megan laughed. "Ooh, who’s watching us? The bug police? They gonna get me for murder? You’re goofy." She picked up a cricket and held it close to her face. "You guys out to get me?" Jamie shoved her hands into her pockets and looked at her feet. "They might. You keep killing them and someday they might get even."

Megan looked at her friend’s serious expression. "O.K., I’ll quit. Let’s go home if it bugs you so much." She grinned at her own pun. Jamie couldn’t help but smile. It was hard to stay irritated with Megan.

Suddenly Megan yelped and smacked at her mouth. The cricket she had been holding abruptly leapt from her hand and was hanging from her lip. She knocked the tenacious little insect off and squashed it flat. "Well, at least that one got even," she laughed. "Let’s go get a video."

The girls spent the evening watching videos and eating snacks. Megan looked at her watch. "Gotta get home." She stood up and stretched. "See you tomorrow. Don’t let the bed bugs bite." She laughed as she slammed the door behind her.

Later that night Megan draped herself over her favorite chair, put her feet on the desk and cracked open her favorite novel: a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Her parents were asleep, and the house was peacefully quiet. She really loved these little moments she had to herself.

Totally engrossed in her reading, Megan lost all awareness of time and place. Gradually she became aware of a sound on the peripheral of her hearing that disturbed her concentration. It reminded her of an ancient screen door begging for a grease job. Irritated, she quit reading and looked around. "What the heck is that noise?" It seemed to be getting louder.

Megan rose from her chair and scanned the room. The squeak was starting to have the same effect on her nerves as nails raking a chalkboard. She shivered. The noise seemed to be originating from outside her window. Megan drew her curtain aside and tried to see something, but the reflection of her bedroom light on the glass prevented her from seeing anything clearly. She turned out her light; still nothing.

Megan decided to peek out the sliding glass door in the dining room to get a better view of the area outside her window. Clutching her book as if it were a security blanket, Megan made her way across the house. Reaching the dining room, she tugged the sliding door open a couple inches and peeped out. She still couldn’t see anything.

Megan opened the door farther. The noise outside was almost deafening. The sound reminded her of those clickers that kids use to drive their parents’ nuts. The light dawned. "That’s it! Someone is playing a joke on me with one of those stupid toys. It’s gotta be Jamie. I’ll kill her!"

Opening the door all the way, Megan stepped out into the muggy summer night. The wall of humidity that hit her in the face was oppressive. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow move. It was easily as big as a person was. It had to be Jamie. "If I catch you, you’re dead meat," she shouted, as she chased the apparition into the forest behind her house.

Megan crashed through the woods, determined not to go home until she caught Jamie. This prank wasn’t funny anymore. She couldn’t believe her childhood pal would go this far to prove a point.

Finally, Megan thought she saw Jamie stop by an old fallen tree. It was difficult to see anything too clearly out here in the boonies. The moon kept playing hide-n-seek with her, using the clouds for cover. She strode purposely up to the rotten log, silently rehearsing the lecture she was about to give her so-called friend.

Megan squinted at the shadow waiting for her by the toppled hardwood. Was it an optical illusion, or did it seem taller than Jamie? She rubbed her eyes. Her stomach tightened. Maybe this chase hadn’t been such a good idea.

All of a sudden, the moon popped out from behind the clouds and bathed the area in pearly white light. The figure was much bigger than Jamie was. "Oh no, " Megan thought desperately, "I’ve got to get out of here!" She turned to run, caught her foot on a root, and fell heavily to the ground.

Megan slowly rolled over and opened her eyes. "Where is the sky?" she thought. The moonlight was gone. No, it wasn’t gone. It was blotted out!

Detective Rusk wearily stirred his coffee while seated in the kitchen at the crime scene. It had already been a long, frustrating morning. He hated child disappearance cases.

Again, he morosely reviewed the facts of the case in his head. Megan’s parents discovered she was missing when they tried to awaken her about 7:00 this morning. She hadn’t slept in her bed, although she was in her room reading when they turned in. The sliding glass door was wide open, but it didn’t look as if it was forced. The whole mess made him sick. She was only fifteen years old.

An uniformed officer poking his head in the kitchen door interrupted the detective’s train of thought. "Excuse me sir, there is something you need to see."

Detective Rusk sighed. He heaved himself up and followed the officer out of the house and into the woods. They threaded their way through trees and underbrush for several minutes. After a while, they came to a halt in a clearing with a decayed, fallen tree in the center of it.

The uniform pointed to a book lying open on the ground. "Sherlock Holmes," he said. "That’s what Megan’s parents said she was reading the last time they saw her. "

The detective turned over the book with the tip of his shoe. He jumped back as hoards of crickets scattered in every direction. They hopped over his shoes and climbed up his pant legs in their frenzied attempt to escape. Unnerved, he squished as many as he could before the crickets disappeared into the vegetation.

Detective Rusk gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Ugh, crickets. I know it’s silly, but they give me the creeps."