The Yeti Uprising: An IPMA Adventure for Christmas 2013 Page 12

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  Another forty-five minutes later and their amber dot on the map was very close indeed to the blue pulsating blip. It seemed as they neared Wisconsin the snow storm had mostly passed by, though it was still very cloudy and occasionally sputtering flurries outside. Finally the agent was allowing the giant CCV to slow down to reasonable speeds. Josh continued to wonder how such a beast could manage such incredible speeds. He stopped watching the gauges after about 140 or 150mph but he could tell by the slightly harder hits to the suspension and the views on the screen that they continued to get faster and faster on their trip. He wondered if they managed to top maybe even 200 miles-per-hour on their cross-country fly and determined that if ever there came a time that he had to tell his parents where he’d really gone that he would not bring up the high rates of speed at which they traveled.

  As they neared a river the edges of it had several heavy patches of trees, mostly bare deciduous, and a picnic or park area, barely recognizable by the picnic tables sticking up above ground, their horizontal surfaces covered by twelve inches of snow but their vertical legs showing through. In the lot as the CCV came to a slowing roll up to it Josh noticed another blacked-out sedan much like the one Agent Samuel had driven him in from school to home. It had a thin layer of snow upon it and the wipers were going. Suddenly a large video of a balding man with an angry look upon his face appeared just to Peter’s right and in front of Josh on the front screens.

  “Well, you finally made it, then?” the man groused.

  “Finally? We’ve been moving pretty fast across land. Nice to see you again Bartholomew,” Peter replied.

  “Sure,” grumbled the old man again. “And who’s that you’ve got there?”

  Only the “there” sounded much more like “thar” to Josh’s ears. This old man may mumble a lot but he definitely had the Wisconsin, Minnesotan or Canadian accent Josh had heard on TV. It seemed strange to him that people so relatively close in the world had such a different way of pronouncing the same words. It got him wondering if there were IPMA agents in other countries, perhaps some that spoke different languages. He thought it might be pretty interesting to talk to some of them and see what sort of creatures they have to go on hunts to find.

  “Probably could lose the shimmer on your vehicle, Samuel.”

  “Oh,” Peter seemed to ponder for half a second. “I think we’re going to keep moving. I should probably let it stay for now.”

  “Suit yourself,” grumbled the visage of the old agent sitting in the car before them.

  “How’d you get here in your standard issue anyway,” asked Peter, trying to be friendly.

  “Well,” answered the sour face. “It’s mostly standard. But look where I live. I’ve used old Agent Johnson’s trick for retractable studs, ha’n’t I then.”

  The last was a statement more than a question that much Josh could tell.

  “Alright then. The trail picks up just south east of where we are now and it heads west to that thinner spot in the river. You got it on your track yet?”

  Peter dragged the aura sensing map overlay back from the left to in front of him and made a gesture that popped it back up on the live view ahead of them. There was a huge green trail, nearly sixty feet across, before them. It wrapped around from out of sight to the southeast as Bartholomew had said in a great arc around the parking lot and headed straight to the river where the older agent had indicated.

  “Yes. We’ve got it, Bartholomew.” Peter pondered the trail for a moment.

  After a few seconds’ pause Agent Bartholomew cleared his throat and then said a little more happily than the rest of the conversation had gone, “Well, I suppose I’ll head home and finish trimming up the tree then, eh?”

  “Ehm, Agent Bartholomew?” Peter started.

  Agent B had just been turning to switch off the car-to-car conference and had to stop, giving the camera at first a raised eyebrow and look of curiosity, and then, seeing what he didn’t want to on Agent Samuel’s face, changed to a scowl again.

  “Yes, Agent Samuel?”

  “I hate to say this, but…” Peter began as mildly in tone as he could.

  “You want me to go with you, don’t you.” This too was a statement more than a question.

  “Yes, sir. I do.” Peter tried to continue showing as much respect and delicate etiquette as possible. Joshua thought it was funny to see him switch from his semi-cool state he’d display the last two days to this one.

  Bartholomew sat back in his comfy black leather seat in the sedan and blew out a slow breath. “Why is that, Agent Samuel?”

  “I’ve been suspicious of their motive for mass migration this year and I suspect this is an attempt at a category 1 occupation of the North Pole facility. Here. I’m sending over imagery from one of their nesting sites we came across on the way here.”

  Agent Bartholomew was shaking his head and grousing a bit, but he could be seen on the video feed manipulating something near the camera and then taking a close look. He sat for nearly one whole minute, expression changeless. Then finally he spoke, still with the same sadness in his brow and eyes. “Give me a moment. I’ve got to call my wife and let her know.”

  The video feed went dark and Peter looked at Joshua, who in turn just stared back. After a moment of awkward silence the agent said to the boy, “Well…I guess we’re getting another agent on our team for this investigation after all.”

  Josh thought for a moment and then asked, “Is that a good thing?”

  Peter nodded solemnly. “Oh yes. If they’re really planning what I think they’re planning then we’re going to need all the help we can get. And we’re going to have to move fast.”