The Pineview Incident (8 page)

Chapter 12

Mark straightened his tie, and Donna gripped the slightly mangled cookies to her chest as they climbed out of the truck. Mark rushed over to her side and took her elbow. He had to fight the urge to put his whole arm around her and lead her back to the truck.

What was he thinking brining Donna here? What if something happened to her?

“Hi there,” Donna said to the children who hadn't moved.

“Were you just making out with him?” asked the tallest one, a girl with thick, long braids.

“Um, not really,” said Donna.

“We sure were,” Mark countered. Now that he finally had Donna, he was claiming every moment of affection as a personal triumph.

“I knew it.” The oldest girl giggled and looked at them with a smirk.

Donna shoved her elbow into Mark's ribs and glared at him. “Are your parent's here?”

“They're with the sheep,” said the youngest. “Are those cookies?”

“They are.” Donna leaned down and showed the tow-headed boy. “I brought them for your family. We haven't seen your parents in a while and came for a visit.”

“Oh, they said you'd come,” said the middle girl.

“Who did?” asked Mark.

“The crew, of course.” The middle girl gave them a toothless smile. “And here you are.”

The boy, who'd been eyeing the cookies the whole time, took Donna's hand and began tugging her toward the house. “Come on.”

“Are you taking us to your leader?” Donna's voice cracked with the last word.

“Nope, he's with the sheep, too. Hey, Greg! We got the ones you said would come.”

Mark put his arm around Donna's shoulders and held on tight. Donna shrank back against him, but kept up a steady pace toward the house.

After a few paces, Greg, the long-haired man whose presence started this whole mess, walked out onto the porch followed by Pa Gilbertson.

Greg took one look at Donna and Mark and muttered a cuss word.

“Not around the kids,” Pa said.

“See. We caught us some of those onlookers you said would show up,” said the boy, proudly.

“Actually, they drove up and made out in our drive,” said the oldest girl. “Tongues and everything.”

“Wait. You two were making out?” Pa looked at Mark's arm tightly wrapped around Donna. “I'll be damned. How the hell did
that
happen?”

“Don't cuss around us kids, Pa,” said the middle girl.

“This place just keeps getting weirder,” mumbled Greg. “Bring them inside. We'll have to talk with them.” He pointed at the youngest boy. “Run and get Paul.”

“But they brought cookies,” the boy protested.

“We'll save you some. Go do as you're told,” said Pa.

The boy gave the cookies one last furtive glance and headed off to the fields beyond the house.

“Come on in, you two. You have some explaining to do.” Pa held the door open to the house.

“
We
have some explaining to do?” asked Mark, incredulously. “What about you, old man?”

“Hush, Mark,” Donna hissed at him.

Mark had been to the Gilbertson place a handful of times fulfilling one or another of his many jobs. It had been a clean place, crowded with furniture and an endless array of children, but it was always homey and comfortable.

The home had been drastically transformed.

The old furniture was gone, replaced by sparse pieces scattered haphazardly around the large living room. Along every wall were black and silver boxes and bins of every shape and size. Straight across room from where Mark and Donna stood, light flooded out of the doorway to the kitchen.

Too much light. Way too much light.

Mark stopped and pulled Donna slightly behind himself.

“What's up with your kitchen, Pa?” he asked.

“Oh, that's just the center of operations. It has to be well lit. I didn't realize just how much light these guys need.” He shoved his thumb at Greg. “Trust me, it can burn your eyeballs right out of your head.”

Donna let out a small gasp, and Mark shielded her from whatever was in the kitchen.

“Is that some kind of threat,” he asked.

“Threat?” Pa looked at him with a confused expression. “No, just a fact. These guys don't mess around.” He pointed at Greg who stood in the doorway with his arms crossed.

“No we don't,” said Greg. He turned toward Mark and Donna. “Look folks, I'm sure your cookies are the county's best or whatever, but we aren't going to work with them. So you might as well take your little tub and head on back home.”

“They aren't for you. They're for us.” The oldest girl walked over and took the cookies from Donna. “Thank you, ma'am.”

“Fine. Eat them up,” said Greg, “but we aren't using any cookies.” He glared at Donna. “So just pack up and head home. We've dealt with people like you before.”

“Ignore the cranky hippie,” whispered the oldest girl. “He's testy at times.” She smiled and nodded at Mark. “He's hot!”

“Tell me about it,” whispered Donna right back.

Mark cleared his throat and tried not to look at the oldest girl who was now grinning at him. “What do you mean by
using
cookies? Most folks eat them.”

“I mean there's no way in hell we're putting them on camera.” Greg indicated the glowing kitchen. “We don't let other recipes in.”

“Recipes?” Donna looked from Pa to Greg. “I don't understand.”

“You're not the first people to try it, you know. The moment people find out a camera crew is in town, everyone suddenly becomes a chef.” Greg began to pace. “The next thing we know, we can't get the shots we need because of all the snoopy neighbors.”

“Hot damn, I win!” Mark crossed his arms and grinned at the people in the room. “I knew it. I did.”

Everyone else looked at him as if he were crazy.

He turned to Donna, the only one who had a chance at understanding his pride. “It's a camera crew. I told them that's what it was, but they didn't believe me.”

“What? Who?” Donna looked at him in wonder.

“I told the guys in the shop it was one of those cable shows—you know, like quilting or that strange southern family. Those idiots kept going on about a gold rush and horny alien sheep.” Mark chuckled at the memory.

“Mind control devices,” Donna mumbled, and she began chuckling as well.

“Horny alien sheep?” Pa Gilbertson looked between Mark and Donna.

“It's a long story,” began Mark. “You have no idea how much of a ruckus those black vans caused.”

The tow-headed boy burst through the front door and headed straight for the cookie box. “I got Paul,” he said before shoving two cookies in his mouth.

An older man walked through the door and glared at Mark and Donna.

“Terrific. Sight seers.” He put his hands on his broad waist. “And they brought cookies. Of course.”

“Hi, sheep-love guy.” Mark was having too much fun to take Paul's irritation seriously. “Look, honey. It's the sheep love guy.”

“Hi there.” Donna came out from behind Mark and waved.

Paul's eyes narrowed and he turned to Pa. “Who the hell is this?”

“These are neighbors of a sort,” said Pa.

“Practically next door,” Donna added.

“They're insane.” Greg's tone was matter-of-fact. “Certifiably nuts.”

“If you think we're bad, just wait till you see the rest of the town,” said Mark.

Paul held up his hands. “Whatever. Look, we aren't going to use your cookies and you can't go on camera. So you can just haul your asses back dow—”

“Look at the tin men!” The tow headed boy was standing at the window pointing at the clump of bush Mark and Donna had hidden in.

Even at a distance, three foil covered heads were visible amid the yellow and orange leaves.

Paul grabbed an eye piece and looked out at the trees. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“Told ya,” Mark said.

“Who is that?” demanded Greg. He walked to the window and held up a large pair of binoculars.

“That would be our sheriff,” said Donna brightly. “And two more, um, neighbors from town.”

Paul's mouth dropped open, and for a moment, no one spoke.

“Is that... foil?”

“And shortening.” Mark pointed out to the three men, who from a distance looked to be fighting with each other.

“Shortening?” Paul turned to Mark with a raised eyebrow.

“It's to stop ray guns or something.” Donna sounded nearly giddy. “Lard works better, but oil is less messy.”

“I'm getting the camera,” said Greg. In a moment he returned fitting a lens to a silver box sitting on his shoulder.

Paul suddenly became animated. “Can you sneak around to get a good shot? Wait, I'm going to send everyone with a camera. This is too good to miss.” He pulled a walkie-talkie out of his pocket and began barking out orders to several people at once.

“If you think those three are bad, you should visit our little town,” said Donna when Paul had finished. “They think you guys are everything from invading aliens to polygamists to terrorists. The town is crazy with the talk.”

“You don't
even
want to know what the town thinks you're doing with the sheep.” Mark nodded at the shining heads in the distance. “Those men believe you guys are plotting to overtake the earth and destroy humanity. If you come running at them with camera gear pointed at them, they may do something stupid.”

“You mean stupider,” added Donna. “They coated themselves in oil and wrapped themselves in foil. They've achieved stupid several times over.”

“True. This should be good.” Mark grabbed Donna's hand and pulled her over to the window with him.

“I'm hoping it's great,” said Paul. He held the eyepiece up and laughed. “You know, this would make a terrific addition to our documentary. I just might go see that town of yours.” He grabbed a cookie and popped it into his mouth.

Within a few moments, several men carrying all sorts of camera paraphernalia ran past the house and headed directly toward the spot where Chief Michaels, Cory, and Ed hid behind the bushes.

“I wonder if they know they're heads are sparkling,” said Donna.

“Those head things reflect nicely on the autumn leaves don't they?” Mark heard shouting erupt as the five cameramen approached the conspicuous foil heads.

One of the three men sent up a high pitched scream—probably Ed by the sound of it.

“Sissy,” mumbled Mark.

“Tell your men to approach slowly. They have tear gas,” said Donna.

“Are you joking?” asked Paul.

“Dead serious,” said Mark. “They got it from e-Bay.”

Paul quickly relayed the message, and the five men stopped their advance.

A moment later, a huge gas cloud enveloped the three foiled men and more shrieks issued from the bushes. Mark watched the scene with a feeling of vindication.

Donna put her hands on her hips. “I knew it! I knew they'd gas themselves.”

“This is too good to be true.” Paul began giggling like a little girl. “And the whole town is like this?”

“Worse,” said Donna.

Paul grinned and put the walkie-talkie back up to his lips. “Pack it up. We're heading into town.”

The cameramen were laughing too hard to move.

Chapter 13

It took almost an hour to get the crew packed up. During that time, Donna learned the whole story from the Gilbertsons while Mark talked logistics with Paul.

Betty Gilbertson, a cherubic woman whose face still resembled a small child after giving birth nine times, was happy to share the details with someone. Anyone.

“You have no idea how hard it is being stuck here day after day! I've missed talking and sharing stories with the ladies in town so much. I mean, the teens we hired to help with the little ones are nice, but they don't talk much.” She took a breath, and Donna tried to ask a question, but the woman started back up before she could form a single word. “I can't wait until the crew leaves and things get back to normal. Well, almost normal. Once the documentary comes out, it may be a little strange for folks, of course, but hopefully we'll be back to sharing with our friends and neighbors soon.”

Donna was ready this time, and the moment Betty sucked in a lung full of air, she jumped in. “How did all this come about? Why would a camera crew show up here?”

Betty clapped her hands in delight. “I made a blog! Last winter, when it was so cold, I decided to start a blog about farm life and homeschool, and sheep, and all kinds of stuff. Mostly though, it was full of my recipes for using home-grown vegetables and hiding them in recipes so kids eat healthy even if they don't know it.”

Betty paused for two breaths. The portly woman put a lot of energy into talking. “It's called 'The Hidden Potato'. Have you heard of it?”

Donna gasped. “I love your blog!” Donna looked at Betty with a newfound respect and a bit of jealousy. “I find all sorts of recipes to try at school. I had no idea you started that site.”

“It's gotten so popular it actually makes me money.” Betty clapped again and laughed. “Anyway, a few month ago, this film professor from some college in Southern California called to ask if they could do a documentary about our farm and blog and homeschooling and such. These boys need it as a project for their master's degree.” She indicated the young men who were packing up the dark vans as they spoke.

“I hope we didn't ruin it for you,” said Donna. Betty and her family deserved to be the stars of the show, not the insanity of the town.

“I'm glad for the break. You have no idea how tiring it is to constantly be on camera. I swear, if I have to pet one more sheep, I'm going to puke. All I want is to spend a quiet night with my kids just relaxing and putting my feet up.” Betty gulped down a few more breaths. “So, what made you two come up here, again?”

“Oh, um.” Donna coughed. “We, um, were worried about you. You all just up and disappeared.”

“Oh, that's just so sweet.” She touched Donna's arm and smiled at her.

Donna wondered if there was a rock to crawl under somewhere near the house. How could she have ever thought badly of this unusual but wonderful family?

One of the children let out a howl and began to cry. Betty excused herself and went to take care of the little girl.

“You look angry.”

Donna jumped at Mark's voice. “I am. I want to beat some sense into a few people, I'm just not sure which ones.”

Mark backed up a bit. “Am I on that list.”

“No.” Donna crossed her arms and looked up at him. “How did this thing get so out of hand?”

“I blame it on the total lack of amusements in town.”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I,” he said a little more gently. “There isn't much to do in Pineview except watch our football team lose, join the bowling team, and gossip. Heck, the movie theater only plays two shows a month. This mess was like a double espresso for our sleepy little town.”

“We didn't help them much,” said Donna. She looked around at the farmhouse filled with children. “They deserve better than two people spying on them.”

Mark reached around Donna's shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. She felt him kiss her head. “We were the only two people willing to risk anything to help. Besides, we’re about to make it all up to them and then some.”

Donna leaned back and looked at him. “Why did the hair on my neck just stand up?”

“You have very wise neck hairs.” Mark pointed to the camera crew who were now loading the last of the items on the truck. “We're going in first to introduce the crew to the town.”

“But Chief Michaels and Ed and Cory are in Pineview by now. They'll have the whole town up in arms and ready to attack.”

“Yeah they will. It'll be great.” He grinned at her like the little boy he was.

“Mark Lewis, sometimes I think your brain stayed stuck in fifth grade. I for one have no desire to be dissected by a crowd of paranoid lunatics.”

“Think about it, Donna. It's going to be just like a movie or video game—maybe even one of those zombie ones.”

Donna looked at him, utterly confused. “And this is a good thing?”

“You bet!” Mark chuckled. “Haven't you ever wanted to be in one of those movies? You know, when you're the good guy and outnumbered by the mindless masses, and somehow you end up winning despite the odds?”

Donna felt a familiar flutter in her stomach. The look on Mark's face was nothing short of naughty. It was also adorable.

Besides, she'd had those fantasies too.

“And how do you plan on winning?” It would only be fun if they could out maneuver the mindless masses.

Mark looked at the floor and shifted on his feet. “That's the tricky part. Paul doesn't really want us to win. He thinks letting the masses run loose for a bit will make for a more exciting scene.”

“He
what
? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind.” Donna shot past Mark in search of Paul, but Mark caught her arm.

“He's got a great idea. All we have to—”

Donna whirled on him. “All we have to do is get dissected. I was kidding about that the first time, but it's no joke. Those people think we've been taken over by aliens. There's no telling what they'll do. And
if
we live, we have to live
with
those people.”

“Can you take time off work?”

“For our funeral?”

“For our wedding.”

Donna stood there trying to make sense of the strange and possibly insane man she'd fallen for. “Was that supposed to be a proposal? You’ll need to do a lot better than that, Mark Lewis.”

Mark put his hands up. “Give me a minute to explain, and then give
me
a chance to make it right. Paul just needs us to set up the scene. Once that's done, he wants us to run for it. I figure, so long as we're running away, we can elope. I hear you can get married by Elvis in Vegas. The impersonator wears rhinestones and tassels and everything.”

Donna gasped at the thought. It was scandalous. Women her age just didn't do such things, especially not pastor's widows for God's sake. Still, when she looked up to answer Mark, she was grinning.

“That would be almost as bad as promiscuous aliens.”

“Worse!” Mark grinned back and suddenly he was on his knee. “I don't have a ring or anything, but Donna Vanderwald I want to make this world right again, and the only way I can do that is with you as my wife. Are you possibly insane enough to give me another chance? I promise I’ll buy you the biggest and best diamond I can find in Vegas.”

“Just buy me a coffee table to match the sofa and we'll call it even.” She hadn't smiled so widely in years.

“God I love you woman!” Mark pulled her in for a deep kiss.

For a moment, the chaos around her stilled, and the feel of Mark's arms around her body and his lips on hers were the only things in the world. She could have stayed this way forever.

“Time to load up,” Paul hollered through the door. “Somebody poke those two and get them moving!”

“See? I told you they like to make out,” said a child.

Mark sighed and let Donna go. “Give me a minute.” He turned back to Donna. “Are you sure? I'm no prize, and this is kind of sudden. You won't lose your job or your nerve, will you?”

“The job maybe, my nerve, no. I've never backed down from you, Mark Lewis, and I don't intend to start now.” She patted his chest and lifted her eyebrow in challenge. “Now, if
you're
too chicken to go through—”

“I'm not afraid of anything you can dish out, Mrs. Vanderwald. I will marry you any time and any place.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“You’re on.” Donna grabbed Mark's hand and headed out the door with him in tow. “Oh, and I had a quick honeymoon the last time. This time, I’m staying in Vegas for at least a week, maybe two. I hope you're up to it.”

#

Mark kept whistling the themes from horror movies. The third time through
Psycho
, Donna had had enough. “Stop. It.”

“What?”

“That. That whistle thing is annoying. You're not helping things,” she said. “I'm already nervous and being reminded of every bloody scene in history isn't helping any.”

“I'm setting the mood.”

Donna punched him hard in the shoulder.

“Ouch!” Mark tried to give her a hard look, but ended up smiling anyway.

“You're enjoying this,” Donna said. She pinned him with another accusing glare.

“Sure I am. Aren't you?”

“We're heading into a town I love and that will likely hate me because I believed the truth. Does that sound happy to you?”

“You forgot the crazed masses carrying pitchforks and torches.”

“You're right. What was I thinking? Our crazed friends, who quite possibly might kill us, make the whole thing hilarious. I feel much better now.”

“We have a backup plan. Look behind the seat.” Mark was grinning from ear to ear.

Donna let out an agitated breath, but turned and looked behind her seat. Two long, shiny objects lay there. She pulled them up and stared. “Where did you get these?”

“The guys in the camera crew did it for us. They thought it would set the mood.”

“Wait. Are these...” Donna paused and looked down the barrel of the gun-like thing, “Water guns?”

“Water cannons, actually,” Mark said. “The kids left them in the yard, so we figured we could take them and put them to good use. Greg, the longhaired one, is pretty good with props. It's mostly duct tape, glitter, and wrapping paper.”

“You're backup plan is a pair of tricked out water guns?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Donna stared at the water cannons and couldn't decide if she should laugh or throw them at Mark. The laughter won out.

It began as a giggle but quickly grew to an embarrassingly loud cackle.

At first Mark joined her, but as tears streaked down her face he began to give her worried glances.

“I'm okay,” she gasped. “Really. Okay. It's just... funny.” She hiccupped a few times. “You realize we're going to die, right?”

“Nope. No way,” said Mark. “I'm taking you to Vegas, and I'll kill anyone who stands in my way. Besides, I'm pretty sure those babies will cause enough commotion to give us a clean get away.”

Donna snorted.

“Trust me,” Mark insisted. “I've been faking it for years. Those will save the day.”