Hold Zero! Read Free Page A

feet?”
    “Two thousand,” Johnny answered.
    “Two thousand?” Craig saw the officer’s eyebrows lower ominously.
    “Oh, now, Johnny,” Mrs. Sutton said, “that’s like a real rocket.”
    “It is a real rocket,” Johnny replied.
    The officer stepped toward the vestibule. “When can I see this? I’m busy this afternoon, but tomorrow morning I’m on duty in this area. Could we meet at eleven?”
    “That would be fine,” Steve said and glanced with relief at Craig. But Craig was looking at the officer’s feet. They splayed out, he noticed.
    Then the telephone rang. His mother stepped into the kitchen to answer it. She said a few “yeses,” an “oh,” and signaled the policeman to wait. She hung up and came into the vestibule. The falling water of the fountain sounded loud and steady.
    “That was Mr. Brundage,” she said. “Phil’s father. He’s terribly upset. His son told him that the rocket had twenty-four engines and was thirty-two inches tall—without the top on.”
    “The nose cone,” Steve corrected.
    “Yes, that’s it.” She went on, “Mr. Brundage said he thought a committee ought to be formed to check the rocket and see what’s going on. He suggested you and himself, and Johnny’s father, the town supervisor ... and a scientist.”
    “Can they come tomorrow?” the officer asked.
    “Oh, I doubt it. It’s Sunday. Mr. Brundage will be tied up at the church and the others will be busy I’m sure. It’ll have to be organized.”
    “Yes, organized,” the officer repeated and Craig was reminded of the crows again. “Well, I’ll go ahead. Perhaps a committee won’t be necessary.” The big man spun on his heel, then dropped a large hand on Mrs. Sutton’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said, “everything’s going to be all right.”
    “It’s just that Mr. Brundage is so upset that this got ‘out of hand,’ ” she said hopelessly. “He can’t understand how a rocket got built without adult supervision.”
    Craig was eager to correct his mother. “Oh, lots of adults helped,” he said. “Mr. Brian, the science teacher, checked out the launch panel at school, and Mr. Pappo, that free-lance inventor, gave us lots of condensers and old tubes. Even Mr. Brundage helped Phil carve the first-stage nose cones out of balsa wood.”
    “You mean it was supervised?” Officer Ricardo said brightly.
    “Well, not exactly.” Johnny took up the explanation. “Everybody kind of helped us in their free time. But the funny thing was,” he turned his head slightly, “nobody asked us what it was for. And we just sort of never told them. They were all so busy with their own work.”
    Craig watched Officer Ricardo’s face as he scratched his head and put on his cap. He opened the door and hesitantly turned back to say something. But he was interrupted as Craig’s brother Pete called loudly from the basement and his sister Ellen burst in the back door with a friend, crying, “Hey? who’s being arrested?”
    Officer Ricardo threw open the door. “See you all at eleven sharp. I’m getting curious about this Cape Kennedy of Blue Springs.” But his laugh seemed forced.
    Craig’s watch read 1 P.M. He shook it, then stared at the small hand that had inexorably arrived at the numeral that not long ago was to be the most exciting number in his life—one.
    “It’s T-time,” he said to Johnny and Steve, “and all systems are red.” Johnny’s eyes dampened as he turned away.

3 THE MARSH
    C RAIG’S MOTHER CAME into his room after an early supper to tell him it was time to leave for the Community Night. He was lying on his bed, his math book spread open before him. He did not look up. “Zero, one, two, three, four,” he said, “ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Twenty, twenty-one ... ”
    “What kind of counting is that?” she asked.
    “New math. Base five.” Craig lowered his head. “Guess I shouldn’t go to Community Night.”
    “It does sound as if it needs some