“Okay, look, just give me a minute to catch you up. I’ve been following the Bronwyn Hyatt story ever since her rescue. The bluebellies—liberals, Democrats, blue states, get it?—are out there jumping through hoops to make her look like less than a hero. And as far as I can tell, she hasn’t said word one in her own defense. I wanted to know more about her, so I found out she was one of these Tufa People, and I started looking into that. Do you know about them?”
“Just what everyone around here knows.”
“Do you know they were already here when the first white people arrived in this area?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know that there are reliable accounts of some of them living two and three hundred years?”
Don blinked. “I never heard that, and I’ve lived here all my life. And, since I also do the obituaries, I can assure you plenty of the Tufa die much younger than that. I think someone might be yanking your chain. Where did you get your information?”
“Never mind. And here’s more for you. Did you know that some people say they can fly?”
Don laughed before he knew he’d done it. “Fly?”
“Mock if you want, but I’ve talked to a lot of people over the Internet. They say that when the Tufa People meet for their secret ceremonies, they grow wings and can fly. They say it happens because the Tufa People are actually the remnants of the Tuatha, the original fairy folk who left England and Ireland centuries before any settlers came to the New World.”
Don just stared. “I just want to be sure I’m following this, Fred. You say the Tufa… the people living over in Needsville, Tennessee, as we speak… are actually a lost tribe of Irish fairies?”
“I know how it sounds, believe me. That’s why I had to come up here and see for myself. But look, let me show you something.”
He opened the laptop on the edge of Don’s desk and spent a moment typing. “My mom got me this Air for my birthday, it’s so cool,” he murmured, as if Don were his best friend.
“We don’t have wireless,” Don pointed out.
“That’s okay, this is a file. Now look.” He turned the laptop so Don could see the screen.
It displayed a satellite shot of rural countryside. The trees were clear, and at one edge a paved road cut across the corner. But along the far left side were two white silhouettes. Don had to admit they did look like the traditional image of fairies: humanoid forms with large butterfly-like wings, apparently moving fast enough to cause a blur.
“See?” Blasco said excitedly. “This is a Google image filtered through enhancement freeware. Those are fairies, man. In flight over Cloud County, Tennessee. For real.”
Don looked at the nondescript countryside. “That could be anywhere.”
“I trust my source.”
“And those could be just a couple of bugs close to the lens.”
Blasco looked at him. “Of a satellite?”
Don’s wariness now mixed with amusement. Whatever the origins of the Tufa might be, he was certain they were flesh-and-blood people. “Fred, look. I’m serious here. I have lived in this area all my life, and this is the first I’ve ever heard of this. My own great-grandmother was a full-blooded Tufa, and she never sprouted wings and fluttered off. Wherever you’re getting this, my advice would be to check your sources a little more closely before you make yourself look foolish.”
Blasco’s expression tightened. “So you’re one of them.”
“Because I don’t agree with you, I’m part of the conspiracy?”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I never said there was a conspiracy.”
“No, I guess you didn’t.” He stood, hoping the blogger would take the hint. “I don’t think I can be any more help to you, Fred. Sorry. Best of luck with your story.”
Blasco closed the laptop and stood. His face was splotchy with emotion, and a fresh sweat ring circled his collar. “This is the biggest story in the world, friend. And I gave you a chance to be part of it. When it breaks, you remember that.”
Don stared after Blasco for several moments after the door shut behind him. It was the silliest thing he’d ever heard in his life, the kind of thing only someone who stayed at home all day blogging could take seriously. And yet…
He sat back down, opened a search engine, and typed in the word fairy.
Blasco drove his rental car out of Unicorn and headed toward Cloud County, guided by Yahoo Maps printouts. He drove for four hours without finding any of the turns or roads that led into Needsville, and finally ran out of gas within sight of the interstate. The road he was on, though, went under the highway without any ramps. So, already exhausted from the heat, he started walking across a small field and into a stand of trees, toward the towering sign that indicated a gas station at the next exit ramp.
20
Bronwyn opened her eyes and saw Kell standing over her bed. She jumped, startled.
He smiled and said, “Boo.”
She sat up and yawned. “Why are you watching me sleep?”
“I’m not watching you sleep, I’m waking you up. Get dressed.”
Then she saw the darkness outside. “Holy shit, how the fuck long was I out?”
“You kiss our mama with that mouth? C’mon, wash up and put on some pants.”
“Why?”
“We’re going for a drive.”
She looked at the bedside clock. “It’s eight o’clock at night.”
“And they said you had brain damage.”
“Seriously, what’s the deal?”
“Seriously, get your ass in gear and I’ll tell you.” He pulled a strand of her hair and winked. “Trust me.”
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her broken leg was ridiculously smaller than its mate due to the muscle atrophy, but it looked surprisingly pink and healthy around the incisions. She wiggled her toes; the tingling was almost gone. “Hand me my crutches, will you?”
“Do you want your cast?”
“Hell no. I’m taking a goddamn shower like an adult.”
He nodded at the stitched places. “Are you supposed to get those wet?”
“Probably not.”
“Want Mom to help?”
Bronwyn used the crutches to stand and tucked them under her arms. “No, I don’t. I’m twenty years old, I should be able to wash myself.” She looked down and added quietly, “But do me a favor, stand outside the door and listen for a loud thud, will you?”
He laughed. “Sure.”
An hour later they were in Kell’s car, riding smoothly over roads guaranteed to rattle the bones of the non-Tufa. Bronwyn suspected she knew their destination, but hoped she was wrong.
She watched the light from the dashboard play across her brother’s features. Kell had never been a skirt-chaser, being too focused on whatever task was before him, whether farming, studying, or working one of his many part-time jobs. But he’d grown into a handsome young man who no doubt drew the eye of many well-bred ladies on the UT campus. He knew full well the dangers of a Tufa man becoming too intimate with a non-Tufa girl, though; he’d seen Stoney Hicks’s life marked by the suicides of desperate girlfriends he’d dropped with no more thought than if they’d been empty soft drink cans.
“So where are we going?” she asked finally.
“Don’t be a moron. You know where we’re going.”
She felt a sudden chill, not of fear exactly, but certainly apprehension. “I’d rather not, Kell,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I mean, I’ve only been home a week, and I just got the pins out of my leg on Saturday.”