Dreams of a Robot Dancing Bee Read Free

“If you change your mind about the fishing, I’d be glad to take you out.”
    â€œI’ll keep it in mind,” Lunceford replied, walking him to the door.
    Nona now saw her chance to play Jerry along. He always wanted everybody to be so nice. “Sure,” she said, “he’s probably got ultra-sensitive listening devices planted all over the campground by now.” Then she put her finger to her lips. “Outside,” she whispered, and motioned for Jerry to tiptoe. “Now listen to me,” she said once they were safe under the birches, “There’s that Hungarian fellow in cabin 8. Sure, he fishes. Of course he fishes. He’s smarter than this Lunceford character. Lunceford’s calling attention to himself by not fishing. Americans are the stupidest. The Hungarian acts like he’s on a holiday, walks around in the open greeting everybody ever so politely. But this Lunceford is an embarrassment to our National Security.”
    Jerry looked worried now, Nona was right. If he could tell that Lunceford was an agent, then surely everyone else could tell. He thought it over for a moment.
    â€œDo you think I should say something to Mr. Lunceford? I don’t want anybody getting hurt here.”
    â€œProtect yourself, Honey, that’s my advice. These guys think nothing of slitting the throats of innocent people. They play for high stakes. They can kill you 97 ways before Sunday and you’ll never know what happened. They always make it look like an accident, and the government hushes everybody up. Your name won’t even appear in the obituaries.” She had him going now. Jerry looked out on the lake and wondered if even the ducks were bugged or concealing some kind of explosives.
    For the first time in years, Jerry slept poorly that night. The pure mountain air and his own hard work usually knocked him out within a matter of minutes of putting his head to the pillow. This night, however, long after he should have been sawing logs, he thought he heard voices. He rolled over to snuggle up to Nona, but she wasn’t there. It was very late. Her absence frightened him. He called her name several times and fumbled in the darkness for the lamp-switch. A loon called in the distance, and he wondered if he was dreaming. There hadn’t been loons on Lake Umbagog for several years, since the first year. But, then, distinctly, eerily, it called again.
    He heard Nona talking softly from the kitchen: “Yes, I think so, I think that might be possible. He’s taken the bait, isn’t that a scream? I’ll work on him. I can’t give you a date. It’s too early. Perhaps we’ll be home before the holidays. I’ll see what I can do. I love you, too.” Nona jumped when she saw Jerry standing in the doorway. “What are you doing up?” she asked. “Who was that? Who were you talking to at this hour?” He was almost angry.
    â€œIt’s only eleven o’clock. That was my mother. She just wanted to know how we were doing. Now go back to bed, nothing’s wrong. I’ll be in bed in a few minutes.” Instinctively, though half-asleep, Jerry went to the window facing Mr. Lunceford’s cabin. All the lights were on. And over by cabin #8 someone was crouched with a tiny flashlight, digging in an over-turned trash barrel.
    The next morning, his last in the north country, Mr. Luncefordlooked out his front window and saw Jerry Kuncio working on a motor down on the dock. He had never been much of a fisherman, but had been touched by Jerry’s offer to take him out personally. So, he finished dressing and made his way down to the dock.
    â€œBeautiful morning!” he shouted.
    Jerry looked at his watch automatically. It was still morning, though he had been up since five. The best fishing was long over. “I slept like a baby,” Mr. Lunceford continued as Jerry finished tightening up a new fuel hose.
    â€œI wish I