9

There are stories that matter, and stories that don’t. In the highly competitive world of journalism, knowing the difference – being able to prioritize them in your head on the fly – could make you a legend, or a laughingstock. Gnawsha Grenn – the creat Mycah had homed in on after leaving Lead Investigator Wollick to his investigation – was the former. Gnawsha’s career was a story, in and of itself.

For someone of Gnawsha’s caliber, missing kids were someone else’s problem. She spent most of her energies sniffing out the shenanigans of Presidents, Kings, and Cardinals. But word had gotten to her that the DICK Head, himself, had dispatched one of his deputies to the scene of this crime. That fact, alone, made it worthy of Gnawsha’s attention.

The moment she stepped out of the channel 9 news van, the newsies from competing stations whipped out their phones and contacted their own stations. If channel 9 was putting its best reporter on the case, then there was more afoot here than just a missing kid. None of them wanted to be the last of their group to figure out what made the disappearance of Yanna Alix so interesting to the infamous Gnawsha Grenn.

On the planet Creat there were beautiful people like Ailani King, and then there were luxurious people like Gnawsha Grenn. The latter outranking the former by a considerable margin on the hierarchy of attractiveness. At the top of that hierarchy were the minks, the beavers, and topmost of all – the chinchillas like Gnawsha. Their ancestors were harvested for their fur because of its soft quality. The wealthiest - and/or most famous – of the awakened creats surrounded themselves with the two-legged versions for the same reason.

The luxurious creats broke the mold that had been carried over from pride culture. The culture that most ordinary creats wrapped themselves up in. The lions – the kings of the creat jungle – had established  the tradition of long-haired males, and every other awakened species had followed their lead. The “chinchies” – as the collective group of luxurious fur-bearing creats were called – were the exception. Male and female chinchies, alike, had long hair. It was their source of pride. Their ticket to fame and fortune, in many cases, and for most of them – as was the case with Gnawsha Grenn – it was just another tool to get what they wanted from their less-luxurious fellows.

On this particular day, on her way into the school, Gnawsha saw a chance to use her favorite tool. She strode seductively toward a student – a young boy – who had just emerged from the front door of the bland-looking building. The look that spread across his face the moment he saw her told the experienced reporter that he was stricken with an instant, nearly fatal case of puppy love. With that in mind, she let her hips swing a little wider than she normally would. She flipped her luxurious hair over her shoulder on one side, knowing the other side would rebound across her face obscuring one eye. The unobscured eye fluttered its long, dark lashes before catching the boy’s gaze. He immediately looked away, and so did Gnawsha. Her experience told her that he would have trouble taking his eyes off of her for long, and she didn’t want to discourage him from taking her in. From this point on, she would avoid looking him in the eye unless a moment came when she needed to judge the truth of what he said or felt the need to cement his desire for her further with direct eye contact. Looking at her would distract him from thinking too hard about what his mouth was telling her, and that was precisely what she wanted.

This kid turned out to be a talker, so Gnawsha let him talk – occasionally rubbing his shoulder or touching his forearm to encourage him with the opulent feel of her. It didn’t occur to him that she was using her attractiveness to glean what she wanted from someone who was under the legal age of consent. She was focused on her job, while he was lost in the moment. This was not pedophilia in either of their minds. She had no intention of sleeping with the boy. Never mind that it was all the young Sid Kennu could think about, or that in his mind the possibility of it was very real. Gnawsha wasn’t leading him on for that. She merely tugged his leash to distract him from his own security. That is, she didn’t want him thinking about keeping his mouth shut, or the potential aftermath he – or others – might experience because of his failure to do so. Fantasy was her ally most of the time, though she was equally skilled at wielding nightmares. In that way she used similar tactics to the ones Inspector Wollick and his squees employed. In this case she was playing “best” cop, and the young, puberty-afflicted male in front of her didn’t stand a chance.

Loose lips sink ships, and the vaunted reporter was always on the lookout for new torpedoes.

For his part, Sid Kennu couldn’t believe his luck. Two encounters with two famous people in two days. As far as he was concerned, the sky was the limit from now on. His spirit was bolstered by the simple truth that if this could happen, then anything was possible. Gnawsha’s trained eye spotted the clouds in the young boy’s eyes and aimed to keep him bouncing on them for as long as possible. Narcotics loosened the lips that sank the ships, and the best mickeys were the ones people slipped themselves.

“Ro’I was here? Really? That must have been exciting for you!” She said when he brought it up. She encouraged him with her body language more than her tongue. In fact, she didn’t say much at all over the ten minutes and hundreds of words their simple “hellos” stretched into. She didn’t need to say much. Sid Kennu was an open book – an audio book - and she listened closely to every page.

“Oh! It was! I’m his biggest fan!” Sid declared. Gnawsha touched the boy’s forearm again, implying that – at the moment – she was his biggest fan and encouraging him to say more. “My friend Jireh thinks he was being creepy with some of the girls, but I disagree!” He said, happy to share all that he knew with his new best friend. “I think girls are just attracted to famous males, and Ro’I is about as famous as they come! Some of the girls were definitely into him, especially Yanna!”

Sid hadn’t really witnessed that for himself, having been too caught up in his own rapture to notice what anyone else was doing. It was Keeli who had implanted the idea in his head. She had told them everything she had told the police, including how enthralled she was with their famous visitor. Sid was simply embellishing her account, tagging Yanna in it, and claiming Keeli’s role as author for himself.

“Do you think Yanna was a princess?” He asked, while his imagination worked out the answer to another question, entirely. I bet it’s pure heaven sleeping with her. He told himself, while telling her, “The police think she was.” He was merely relaying what Keeli had told them and not really expecting Gnawsha to answer. For her part, she wasn’t looking at him, giving him ample opportunity to let his imagination run wild over her. Sid Kennu had quite the imagination, especially where females were concerned. He couldn’t wait to tell Jireh about his luck. They’re probably wondering where I am. He imagined. I was just going to the bathroom. He glanced quickly toward the side of the building where the playground was, but his view of his friends was blocked by the tall brick corner of the education center.

The squees had decided to let the kids out onto the playground to curve the frustrated rumblings and impatient whinings that had increased exponentially over the last few hours. The school board had not yet decided if they should close the school, or for how long, but they had cancelled classes for the rest of the day. The school administrators were already working to push up the bus schedule and contact parents so they could retrieve their kids. Students like Sid and his friends – who walked to school – were caught in the middle, unable to leave until all of their classmates could.

It didn’t help matters that the squees had not yet released Miss Beagle’s class from their investigation. It should have been done, but the people who should have done it were tied up with other – more important – things. So, the kids were given free run of the playground in the interim, and their customary meal was being prepared in the cafeteria because none of the school staff believed the people in charge would tear themselves away from their “more important” things long enough to make a decision by lunch time.

From her perch atop the jungle gym some distance away, Ismelda Durant was as taken with Gnawsha Grenn as the young Sid Kennu was. She had no fur, and therefore loved anyone who did. In her closet - in a secret box – was a coon-skin cap her parents had bought her on one of their yearly vacations. Stashed with it was a full-length mink coat her mother had given her as a hand-me-down. Ismelda hid these things – only wearing them when she was alone in her room with her imaginary friend, Roh – because her other friends, mostly Yanna, found the killing and wearing of animals to be gruesome and pedestrian. So, Ismelda hid her infatuation with fur for the sake of friendship and popularity.

“You should go over there and tell her that Jireh got in a fight with Yanna.” Roh said, from his perch beside Ismelda. “Sid’s probably trying to control the narrative – you know, point her away from his friend. I bet they’re in it together! Keeli, too!”

“Do you think so?”

“I’m nearly certain of it!”

“What about him? Do you think he’s in on it?” She said, indicating Wolo Mank who was sitting with Keeli and Jireh in the grass fifty yards from the Jungle Gym.

“He probably master-minded it!” Roh said, surprising her. Roh said a lot of things that caught Ismelda off guard, but the notion that Wolo Mank could master-mind anything was…

“Ridiculous!” She said, letting her rejection of that thought spill across her lips.

“There’s something about that kid I can’t quite put my finger on, Iz. He’s more dangerous than he looks!”

“Like what? What do you mean? Dangerous how?”

“I don’t know. I’m working on it. I mean, I have a hunch, but no concrete evidence to support it yet.”

“Tell me?”

“No. I don’t want to jump the gun.”

“Roh,” she pleaded, “tell me! Please?”

“Ugh! Fine. But it’s just a theory, OK!”

“OK.”

“Well, remember how I told you that The Lord of All Things – the deity the Cheeters call Rex – created the whole universe?”

“I remember.”

“And how he spoke it into existence?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that was an oversimplification. See, Rex spoke the commands that moved the forces that created the universe. When you’re that powerful – it turns out – everything is voice-activated!”

“Can we skip ahead to the point?” She insisted, knowing he could be long-winded and prone to wandering off on tangents – as she sensed he was about to do.

“I’m getting there, Iz, I’m getting there! You are always so impatient!” He paused for a moment as if he were trying to get on her nerves, then when she was about to explode on him he said, “Creation started with a book. A diagram. A blueprint – if you will. Many blueprints, actually. And I think that Wolo Mank is one of those blueprints.”

“You’re kidding me.” She said, flatly.

“No, Iz, I’m not!”

“This is Wolo we’re talking about, Roh. Not Jireh Jor. Not Yanna Alix. Not anyone…cool.”

“Have you ever seen a blueprint? They’re blue, but they’re not cool. Not as cool as the finished structure!” She took a moment to let her eyes wander over Wolo Mank as he sat in the grass playing with ants, listening to his friends talk.

“I don’t see it!” She declared a moment later. “That kid is touched, but not by the hand of some omnipotent creator!”

“Genius and madness share their own little corner of the world.” Roh said, cryptically.

“You’re the one who’s gone mad!”

“Listen to me, Iz. Every word that issues from the mouth of the Omnipotent takes on a life of its own.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means, Wolo Mank might very well be closer to Heaven than you think! And he might hold the key that opens the door of my world to you!”

“What?” She asked, her attention piqued.