Page 4 of Wishes and Research

The man still standing beside me shrugged. “Run around in circles and orgasm, evidently.”

What?

I.

They.

Nope.

I wasn’t going to ask.

Going back to my lunch, I decided it might be time to change the subject. If they wanted to be helpful, I needed to give them a more appropriate topic.

“On another note, would you happen to know a local trail guide who could take me on a few hikes?” My question worked, but they were back to staring at me weirdly. “I’ve normally got a very good sense of direction, but your area is throwing me off.”

Maybe whatever had killed their brains was messing with mine?

Could it be an airborne pathogen?

No. They’d have made more sense if I’d been infected too.

Hopefully.

I’d never had so many problems keeping track of where I was, but every time I turned around, I was struggling. Even GPS didn’t help. I’d started to think that once I found my beetles I should talk with someone else to figure out why electronics in the area worked so strangely. It was like living through one of those Ancient Aliens episodes about ley lines and magnetic grids.

The only problem was that I didn’t believe in those.

“I’m sure you have locals who know the area well.” More stares. How was this topic weirder to them than whatever we’d been talking about before? “Um, hunters? Preppers? Hippies? Local ecologists?”

Did the US still have hippies?

“Oh, van lifers? They seem very focused on exploring places they shouldn’t be driving.” I was back to grasping for more examples when the front door of the diner was opened so hard it nearly bounced back closed and a very frustrated-looking police officer burst through the door.

“What the hell did I tell you?” Glaring at the now guilty-looking customers, his frown deepened. “You were supposed to behave for a couple of hours so Lorne could get arrested and ravished in peace and fucking quiet. Why have I gotten so many text messages?”

Oh.

He wasn’t making any more sense than the rest of them, but it seemed like someone had tattled on the confused old men.

Hands started pointing everywhere and no one seemed to want to take the blame, which just made the police officer even more insane. His glare got deeper and he started scrubbing his hands over his face.

“What have you guys done to the bug doctor and why have I gotten so many fucking texts?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. “Once Lorne’s done, I’ll haul you all in for disturbing my peace.”

He was interesting.

Was Lorne in jail being ravished?

It sounded consensual from the way it was being phrased, but I hadn’t thought anyone could arrange to live out that fantasy in person.

“Um.” Raising my hand since no one else seemed to be inclined to make sense, I cleared my throat. “I think I’m the bug doctor in question.”

The police officer stopped frowning but cocked his head. “You’re not the exterminator.”

Oh.

Were exterminators considered to be doctors if they just killed the bugs?

“No. I…I’m an entomologist. A real bug doctor.” It wasn’t how I normally explained what I did, but it would work. “I’m not sure why everyone is very curious and asking interesting questions, but I don’t understand any of it. Oh, and you wouldn’t happen to know a local guide who could help me in the forest?”

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