FALSE COLOURS

Completed a new novel “False Colors” or in the UK “False Colours”, a thriller with international flavor.  The only people who have read it are my wife and my agent.  Uploading the first chapter.  Next chapter will shock and surprise you.  If I receive over 10 likes and comments I will upload Chapter Two.  I’ll do the same for the succeeding two chapters.  Not the whole manuscript.  I want to whet your appetite. 

Chapter One

     A line of noisy and excited children pressed against the entrance of Monahan’s Book and Game Store.  The door flew open and an apparition in a bright red fright wig with two long braids popping up at odd angles, stepped out.

     “Welcome to Saturday read and play at Monahan’s,” she announced.

     “It’s Selma,” a little girl shouted.

     “There goes my Halloween costume.  I thought it was a terrific disguise.  There’s plenty of room for everyone inside.”

     Selma Fontaine pulled the wig off her silvery gray hair.  “This morning and every Saturday morning, we have a treat.  The Last Chance Theatre Company and actors from our own Helena, Montana college theater arts department will read and perform stories about a girl called Pippi Longstocking.  Pippi has braids just like this wig.  She lives without grownups in a little house at the edge of her village – sort of like Helena.  And because there are no grownups, she gets into all kinds of adventures.  Before I forget, with every purchase today you’ll receive a raffle ticket.  I’ll be in the Monahan booth at the carnival tomorrow.  Winning numbers will be posted on the wall.  You can win a book, a board game – please do not groan – or a computer game,” said Selma.

     Frank Monahan finished arranging seats in the back of the store.  He moved to one side as boys and girls filed in slowly and then rushed for the best seats.

     Gray-bearded, rumpled Dr. Daniel Sonnenschein emerged from between Literature and Non-fiction.   “Getting kids to read is a gift, Frank.”

     “Sells books.  It’s all about commerce,” Frank responded.

     “That, too.  However when my young, eager, and mostly illiterate students at college discover the written word it’s as if the whole world reveals itself.  They’re so into one hundred and forty character messages; writing Internet shorthand, that a sentence with emotion comes as a shocking surprise.”

     “Welcome to the real world.”

     “You have an early edition of Wister’s ‘The Virginian’,” said Sonnenschein holding up the book.

     “It’s a first edition, 1902, MacMillan.  Slightly stained dustcover but excellent condition,” said Frank.

     “The book is a touchstone for most of western literature.  An enigmatic hero who never reveals his past.  What’s he hiding from?  Or is there something in his life too painful to touch?”

     “The theme of literature, Daniel.  Interesting characters wear different masks at different times,” said Frank.

     “Not just fictional characters.”

     “The professor of English is also a pop psychologist.  You ought to get your own TV show: ‘Dr. Dan is the Man’.”

     “Not a bad idea.  I’d be able to afford your first editions.  What are you asking for the book?”

     “For you, Doctor Sonnenschein, two hundred-fifty.”

     “A little hefty for a college teacher, Frank.”

     “Make a down payment and you can have it today.”

     “Sold.”

     “Selma’s a little busy.  I’ll wrap it up for you.”

     “When you came to Helena and opened this store I laid a bet with Diana you would close in six months.”

     “What did she win?”
     “A trip to New York.  She hasn’t collected yet, but keeps threatening.”

     “It was a long shot,” said Frank.

     “Why the hell would anyone consider selling paper books in an era of smart phones, tablets and e-readers?”

     “Sometimes people do irrational things because it feels right,” Frank answered.

     “You’re a clever man.  Bringing in actors, specializing in first editions of Americana.  Your website probably earns more money than the store,” said Sonnenschein.

     “I love books.  I like the way pages feel between my fingers.  I enjoy the smell of ink and the beauty of different type fonts.  I’m also a twenty-first century realist.”  He handed the book to Sonnenschein.

     “One more item.  You’re not an egotist.”

     “What’s that about?” asked Frank.

     “Most people with websites have their picture on the page.  Not you.”

     “Substance is a hell of a lot more important than personality.  Take the book to your class and let them see what a real publication looks like.”

     “Are you and Mattie planning to go to the Fun Run and Carnival tomorrow?” Sonnenschein asked.

     “Can’t get out of it.  I promised Robbie I’d ride with them.  He gets an extra five miles for dragging me along.  That equals five dollars a mile for charity that I have to pay.  How about you?”

     “Riding a bicycle at my age is not an option, especially with my knees.  I’ll be the one helping himself to a few hot dogs and falafel.  God, can you believe falafel and pita in Montana?  The world has indeed shrunk,” said Sonnenschein.

 

     Early Sunday morning cyclists, joggers and runners waited impatiently in the park for the shrill whistle signaling the start of the Fun Run.

     “All ready for the big ride?” Frank asked six-year old Robbie Connor.

     “My chain’s making a lot of noise,” he complained.

     Frank oiled the chain on the child-size bike.  He flipped it over and spun the pedals.  “Not a squeak to be heard.” 

     “Hey, you got grease all over your beard,” said Robbie.

     Frank wiped oil from his fingers on his beard.  “First don’t point.  Second, it’s ‘you have grease’.  Third, it hides the gray.”

     He strapped on his bike helmet.  His long chestnut hair poked from under the edges of the helmet like fringes on a carpet.

     Robbie hung his helmet on the handlebars.  “Do I have to wear this thing, Frank?  It makes me look girlie.”

     “I suppose that makes me girlie, too,” said Frank.

     Mattie Connor rolled next to them. 

     “Who’s the gorgeous young lady, Robbie?” Frank asked.

     “Very funny.  It’s mom.”

     “Impossible.  I don’t know any moms who look so good in cycle tights.”

     “You’re looking pretty good yourself,” said Mattie.

     “Mom, do I have to wear this helmet?” pleaded Robbie.

     “Only if you want to go to the carnival.”

     Robbie slapped the helmet on his head.  “Okay.  But Frank has to promise to go on the roller-coaster with me.”

     “Hold it.  Not part of the deal,” countered Frank.

     “Mom.  Make him do it.”

     “Frank, you’re not afraid of riding a roller-coaster.”

     “Fear is a very good emotion.  It keeps one from doing stupid things,” he said with mock seriousness.

     Mattie kissed him.  “If you don’t go then I have to go and I’ll get sick and we’ll have to go home and the whole day is ruined.”

     “And if I get sick?” Frank asked.

     “You’re tough,” yelled Robbie.

     “Yeah, you’re tough,” repeated Mattie.

     A cold wind gusted out of mountains still wearing a mantle of snow in the middle of summer.

     “The weather man said there’s a twenty percent chance of rain,” Mattie reported.

     “Not bad.  That means an eighty percent chance of sunshine,” said Frank with a wink.

     Robbie hopped on his bike.  “Yeah, mom.  Like Frank says.”

     “Now that’s a family picture,” said Selma riding on her ten-speed.

     “Selma, you joining the Fun Run?” asked Mattie.

     “Not me.  My boss, the dude next to you, is making me work at our booth on the midway.”

     “Where’s Melissa?” asked Frank.

     “Home.  It’s one of her bad days.  I have a college kid looking out for her.  After all our years together I never thought she’d have a hard time remembering me.”

     “Any thought to having her go to a facility where they could care for her?” asked Mattie.

     “We’ve been together forty years.  That’s what it’s all about, caring for one another.  I’m happy we got married in California before she began to slip away.  Only wish Montana offered us the same opportunity,” said Selma.     

     The starter blew her whistle.  Ten speeds, mountain bikes, street bicycles and wheelchair bound athletes rolled out of the park.  Runners jogged and ran in a pack that gradually thinned into a long line.

     “See you on the midway,” said Selma.

     Bikers rode through “Last Chance Gulch” where down-on-their-luck prospectors accidentally discovered a major gold deposit in 1864. Boutiques, cafes, and shops including Frank’s store made Last Chance their home.   Men, women and children eating ice cream, balancing cups of coffee, and devouring fast food from sidewalk stands and food trucks filled the streets. 

     Robbie’s front wheel hit an ice cream cone splattered on the road.  He tumbled off his bike and grabbed his bloody knee. 

     “Are you all right?  Are you hurt?” Mattie asked anxiously.

     “No way.  It doesn’t hurt,” said Robbie.

     Mattie reached into her fanny pack for a bandage.  Robbie recoiled.

     “It’s got cartoons on it,” he yelled.

     Mattie covered the scraped knee.  “Better than bleeding all over the place.”

     They rode into the carnival midway crowded with game booths.  A giant Ferris wheel stood at one end and the rollercoaster at the other.

     Robbie pulled Frank toward the looping rollercoaster. 

     “Only doing this for you, Robbie.”

     “You’re a wuss.”

     “I guess I am,” said Frank.

     The tram ratcheted slowly upward and then plunged in a vertigo-inducing dive. Robbie screamed and clutched Frank’s hand.  It rattled to a screeching halt and they clambered out. 

     “Did you protect Frank?” Mattie asked.

     “It was great,” said Robbie.  “Frank wasn’t scared.”

     “Wrong.  I haven’t been on one of those things since I was sixteen.  Now I know why.  Come on.  I’m treating everyone to a corndog.”

     “I bet you were a wild kid, Frank,” said Mattie.

     “Sorry to disappoint.  My life makes dull reading.”

     “There’s nothing dull about you,” said Mattie.

     “You changed me.  Helena changed me.”

     The sound of gunshots popped from a shooting gallery.

     “Come on.  I’ll win you a bear,” shouted Frank.

     Frank hefted a rifle at the gallery.  “Prepare to lose your biggest bear,” he told the straw-hatted girl who ran the booth.

     “The big one needs four bulls eyes and no one’s done it yet,” she said.

     He took careful aim and fired.  Four pellets plowed one after another into the bulls-eye.

     “There’s always a first time,” he said handing the large Teddy bear to Robbie.

     Dark clouds rolled over the Continental Divide to the west.  Lightning bolts cracked down on the Rockies and rainsqualls slowly approached.  

     “There goes your eighty percent,” said Mattie smugly.

     A fierce wind blew through the valley.

     “Time to go home,” she ordered.

     “It’s just a little wind,” said Robbie.

     A loudspeaker overhead crackled.  “Evacuate immediately.  Evacuate immediately.  Tornado approaching.  Repeat: a tornado approaching the valley.”

     A funnel-shaped twister dropped out of the clouds with the angry roar of an old-fashioned steam engine.  Frank dragged Mattie and Robbie to a heavy metal dumpster.

     “Underneath and don’t move,” he yelled against the rising sound of the grinding storm.

     They watched it zigzag the length of the midway sucking up everything in its path.  

     The tornado shredded stalls.  Wood and metal railings spun into the air.  Teddy bears and dolls from the shooting gallery whirled across rain-drenched fields.  Daniel Sonnenschein scurried from behind a shed and ran to his car.

     “Daniel, over here,” Frank called out.

     “He can’t hear you,” Mattie shouted against the howling wind.

     Sonnenschein crawled behind the steering wheel and started the engine.  The twister tossed the vehicle into the air.  It crashed to earth in a shower of metal and glass.

     Frank gripped the edge of the dumpster holding himself upright against howling wind.  Hail the size of golf balls pelted him.  He ran to Sonnenschein and pulled at the jammed door of the car.  The professor sat inert, his eyes closed, blood on his face and chest.  His hands trembled on the steering wheel.  Frank reached through the broken window and hauled him out. 

     He rushed to the first aid station as the tornado spun south then lifted off and dissipated leaving behind a trail of disaster.  A young nurse held up her smart phone and took a flash picture of Frank.  He turned and Sonnenschein’s foot slammed into the phone.  It fell at Frank’s feet.

     “I’m sorry,” he yelled. 

     He stepped on the phone cracking it in half.

     “My phone,” the girl cried.

     “Damn, didn’t mean it,” Frank apologized.  “Forget the phone.  You have to help Dr. Sonnenschein.  Come by my store, Monahan’s Books, tomorrow.  I’ll pay to replace it,” Frank assured her.

     “It’s okay.  You’re a hero.”  Her face beamed.

     Mattie and Robbie, dirt spattered but uninjured waited for Frank.

     “How is Daniel?” asked Mattie.

     “Banged up pretty bad.  I think he’ll be all right.”

     “You could have been killed,” said Robbie.

     “What?  And miss seeing you play Little League?” replied Frank.

     “I’m making you a spectacular dinner,” Mattie announced.