Free Lost on Mars by Paul Magrs Page B

Martians?’
    Toaster shook his head. ‘No, but my memory circuits are not what they were. I would hate to say anything against Grandma, because she was a very good mistress to me. But, over the years, she did tamper with my memory something rotten. Portions of my mind have been burned out – rather crudely, I must admit. So I am not an entirely reliable witness to the first forty years of my existence. I regret to report it.’
    â€˜Hm,’ said Da, looking askance at the sunbed.
    Next thing was, Sheriff Baxter and the town Elders called a town meeting. They were actually going to discuss the Disappearances in an open debate.
    Da told us, ‘We’re all going to be there. The whole Robinson family. And that includes you, Ruby. This is important.’

13
    All the town was in attendance. Our family – including a slightly unwilling Ruby – took up a long wooden bench quite near the back of the meeting room. Da was grim-faced and quiet, as was Ma. All the other adults present were gabbling away, as if they had been holding back these words for ages and now had received permission to let them all out.
    We faced the stage, where every Christmas we acted out the Jesus story and every Martian Thanksgiving we performed the Tale of Landfall. That stage had been cleared of everything but a long table and sitting at it were the town Elders. It was all the oldest faces in town in one long row, like cabbages growing in a patch.
    For the first time it occurred to me that although Grandma had been ancient, and so was Ruby, neither woman had ever to my knowledge been asked to become one of the town Elders.
    Sheriff Baxter was trying to call the meeting to order. He looked tired and red-eyed. His voice cracked as he shouted over everyone’s noise. When at last they quietened down he outlined what he called some key points about recent developments in town.
    Hannah grew restless, muttering and clambering on Ma’s lap, and to tell the truth I felt much the same. The Sheriff was dressing everything up in unnecessary wordiness as he talked about the important thing being our continued confidence in leadership and personal comfort and safety. Only once did he use the actual word ‘Disappearances’ and pretty quick into his speech I realised – along with everyone else – that he was dancing around the edges of the subject. Minutes passed and he went on talking in vague terms and soon folk were murmuring to each other. Why, his own wife had been borne away into the dark night. You think he’d show a little more gumption and resolve, wouldn’t you now?
    The Sheriff suddenly looked very young and too weak for the job he was supposed to be doing. As Da said, Baxter had never been called upon to deal with anything as serious as this before. Land disputes, drunken brawls, petty thefts – that was all he was used to. At last my Da got to his feet and interrupted him. ‘Er, excuse me, Sheriff Baxter,’ he said, holding up both hands so as to stop the blathering on. All eyes in that meeting room were on my Da. ‘It’s fine to talk about defending our town and night watches and so forth,’ said Da – and he looked round at every worried face in that room. His voice boomed into every corner and held firm and strong. ‘But I think we ought to be talking about what’s really going on here. And by that I mean finding out who or what is causing these Disappearances. Who or what is taking away our folk – like my mother and your wife and all the others. No disrespect intended.’
    The whole gathering burst into spontaneous applause. Da ducked his head and smiled into his beard, embarrassed. The Sheriff on the stage looked mortified. ‘Mr – ah – Robinson. We don’t have access to the kind of knowledge that you’re talking about. We…’
    There came mutinous murmurs from the crowd. ‘Yes, yes we do!’ someone catcalled.