The Day the Siren Stopped by Colette Cabot Page A

into her at the library shelter.  I was lucky enough to buy up one of the last trucks left on the lot in Verona.  Every available vehicle in all the towns around here have been snatched up by the time they opened for business this morning.  I hear you need a ride to Minnesota.”
     
    Mason beamed with happiness and climbed into the front seat.
     
    “Actually, I didn't even get out of Missouri before I turned around and headed back toward Borough,” he said.  “The trailer should be less than fifty miles from here.  I was just thinking it might as well have been a thousand.  My camels and I will be eternally grateful to you Mr. Buggerby.”
     
    “Nooo,” he groaned.  “Don't call me that.  It's Phillip, please.  You know, I hate that name so much, I wish I had changed it legally a long time ago.  Maybe I will do that now that I will undoubtedly have some time on my hands.”
     
    Phillip told him that although the office was gone, a real estate company could operate over the kitchen table.  Most of the records were online, and the rest were retrievable, eventually, under the rubble.  He had already procured an office space in the town of Nevada—where the hospital was located.  Few real estate deals were likely in the town of Borough—not for quite a while.  The Buggerby's own house had been destroyed, but Phillip was not concerned about that.  The insurance would replace everything, and his wife wanted to redecorate anyway. 
     
    They drove past Mason's old homestead in Nevada, and he could see that the house had been flattened.  The barn, however, looked to be in pretty good condition.  He told Phillip that they could bring the camels back to the barn.  In his mind, he was thinking that he and Kathy Mae could probably live in the barn until he could rebuild.  It had a bathroom and electricity.  And then he realized that he had just assumed they'd live together.  He had already decided he was going to marry her, if she would agree.
     
    Mason looked around; it was freeing to see the house gone.  He would never have to worry about his father or her mother again.  Some people might say that this was selfish, but he did not care.  They were nothing to him but an unending burden, and it was only natural that he would feel glad to be rid of them. 
     
    He remembered the time that he was in a motel with his dad back in 1988.  He was only five at the time, and they were traveling back from Jefferson City where his dad had to attend to some final matters regarding his mother's death in prison.  It was the first road trip he had ever taken.  His father left him in the motel for a few hours that turned into three days without food and water.  The old man had gotten drunk and forgotten where he left him.  Perhaps he even forgot he had a son at all.   The manager had finally checked the room when he became worried about the rent and quickly turned him over to the police.  They found Mr. Wheelwright, who insisted he had left the child with a relative, and recounted the whole incident as miscommunication.  The police handed the child back to his custody, either believing his story or just not wanting to get involved.
     
    When they arrived at the spot where Mason remembered leaving the trailer—it was not there.  He was confused, worried, and frantic about the welfare of the animals. 
     
    “Maybe the tornado blew it away,” suggested Phillip. “ Or, maybe you are wrong about the location,” he said, before noticing the tire tracks in the dust and letting his voice trail off in reconsideration mode.
     
    “The storm didn't reach this far north,” said Mason, dialing the police.  “I want to report a trailer full of camels as stolen,” he said clearly to the operator.
     
    “Are you the guy with the camels?” she gasped.  “You won't believe what a commotion that caused here at the station.  They're at the animal shelter here in Spencer.  Come and get 'em.  Assuming you had