10~

Marcie crawled awkwardly through the innards of the tilt-a-whirl later that night after the patrons had all left Fleach's Folly Factory.

"Have you reached it yet?" Schrödinger asked from outside the ride, keeping a watch for security.

"Almost," she answered. "And keep your voice down, will ya?"

Navigating via her penlight, she pulled herself across a defunct gear the size of a dinner table and could see over it to the wrecked speed governor up ahead.

Marcie finally reached the sabotaged device and twisted her body to free her cell phone from her jacket. Once she did so, she shined the light on the cut/broken part that doomed the ride entirely.

She pressed the camera button and waited. The pre-recorded sound of a camera's shutter closing to announce that a picture was taken was not to be heard. She pressed it again. Silence.

Marcie's mind ran every reasonable explanation as to why the phone failed her, from battery issues to simple wear and tear. Then, the reason hit her like an unexpected punch in the gut. Her little dip in the shark tank earlier submerged the phone, killing it and any hope, short of an engineering report from Eleanor, of showing her father the presence of foul play in the park.

Sadly, she twisted around and freed herself from the base of the tilt-a-whirl.

"Did you get it?" Schrödinger asked as Marcie dusted herself off.

"Nope. The tank water killed the phone, she reported, dejectedly"

Schrödinger stood up, saying, "Hmm, it's just as well. Water and cell phones do have a unhappy history together." Then, without preamble, he began to walk off.

"Whoa! Hey, where are you going?" Marcie asked, frowning. "Don't you want to come home with me? I can feed you, if that's what you want."

The cat gave an enigmatic smile and then sat down for a moment. "A offer to tempt the hardiest of vagabonds, but I can't settle down just yet. There's something I have to do in this town first."

"Wait, you can tell me. What do you have to do?" she asked, hoping she could help. "This town could be boring at times and a little excitement can go a long way."

He said nothing.

Marcie realized just then that when it came to cats, she had as much chance of stopping one from doing or not doing something as she did possessing the power of flight, but she had to, at least, say something to him. "Okay, you know when we met, I didn't have to help you with your little problem, but after I heard what Alphonse said about being recruited by this mystery red-head, I realized, that's what we were. Cat's-paws. Only I was asked by an actual cat."

"Guilty," Schrödinger purred. He then got up, saying in parting, "Because of what you've done for me, I trust you, Marcie Fleach, and that means that we will certainly see each again."

Then the Siamese smoothly walked away, leaving Marcie to stand alone with the ghost of a suddenly lonely heart haunting her.

Why did he leave?

'Like V,' she thought.

Didn't he like her?

'Didn't V?' she thought.

She could take care of him, if he'd just given her a chance.

'Like I could...with V,' she thought.

Marcie almost didn't hear the sound of a mammoth truck pulling into the park. She awoke from her morose revelry to think of hiding behind the dark hulk of the tilt-a-whirl, which gave her a good vantage point in which to spy on this unexpected visitor.

It was a flat-bed truck carrying something very long and massive, covered completely by a dark tarpaulin. Behind it, drove a pick-up truck full of laborers and a tall, trundling crane, both of which parked near the flat-bed, the crane's engine idling.

Men disembarked from the pick-up and swarmed over the flat-bed like worker ants, disrobing it and attaching heavy steel cables to the skin of the tower of metal that rested on the vehicle.

As Marcie watched, the cables were connected to the crane, and with careful and strenuous applications of human and mechanized labor, the tower was pulled from the truck, balanced, and erected on its selected spot in the park.

The beams of work lights illuminated the surface of the structure and Marcie could make out the words, "The Rolling Boulder."

She backed away from the tilt-a-whirl, deciding that she had seen enough without risking discovery, and took a circuitous route behind surviving concession stands and other rides to hide her departure.

'The Rolling Boulder?' she though on her way to the parking lot. 'Dad didn't say anything about that.' Maybe that was the reason for the stand-offish nature of the morning.

'He was probably just stressed out about this new ride,' she decide to convince herself as she kept a watch for workers. They were still busy, now attaching cables to the dead tilt-a-whirl and preparing to drag it onto the flat-bed.

Marcie made it to her car, and soon the Clue Cruiser putted away from the park.

"I didn't know that we have a new ride," Marcie said to her father, pleasantly, hoping to smooth things on her part for that morning. "Rolling Boulder? Why didn't you tell me?"

Winslow ignored her as reclined on his chair in the living room.

'Okay,' she thought, dejectedly. 'I gave it a shot.' Better to just report on what she saw. At least, he'll know.

"Dad, I think we were sabotaged," Marcie said, solemnly.

Winslow rolled his eyes up to look at her. Gems of hidden anger that Marcie hadn't notice. "How so?"

"I went to the park to check out the tilt-a-whirl. The speed governor was tampered with. Heck, it was cut off," she said.

"Do you have proof?"

Marcie was slightly taken aback by that. Since when did she need to prove her word to him? In the past, her reports were usually enough for an investigation. Now, things were getting so personal with him.

"Well, I saw it, and I tried to take pictures of it, but my cell phone died on me," Marcie defended. "But, if you don't believe me, ask Eleanor to have her people go through it on Monday. They'll show you."

"It doesn't matter, Marcie. Whether it broke down or not, it doesn't matter."

That didn't add up at all. It wasn't like him. "Why?" she asked, incredulously.

"I told you," he maintained. "It doesn't matter."

A spike of angry indignation flared within Marcie. It was bad enough that Schrödinger became mysterious and left her after all they went through without telling her why, but this was her father. He shouldn't...can't...keep secrets from her, at least about things concerning the park.

"No, Dad," she countered with a little steel in her voice. "It does matter. It's our park. You work hard to keep it running and don't I help you with that?"

"Oh, now you have an interest in the park," Winslow muttered. "Before, you'd move Heaven and Earth to distance yourself from it. Now that your gravy train is starting to derail, you want to fix the tracks."

Gravy train? Where was this coming from?

"Dad, what in the world are you talking about? I've been with you and the park since I was little. Ever since Mom left us, I helped you and the park. Through thick and thin, I was there."

"You were a little girl, where were you going to go?" he said, simply.

The cold logic of that unexpected statement stabbed her deeper than she was prepared for. It took the wind from her next arguments and made her heart ache bitterly. Was this all he saw in her? A laborer he was lucky enough to help bring into this world for the satisfaction of the park?

There was no talking to him right now. Sanctuary was just upstairs, in her bedroom. All she had to do...wanted to do…was get in the last word.

"Well, I'm bigger, now." she said, coolly. "And right now, I'm going to my room."

Marcie expected a challenge from her father, a command to stay where she was until he told her otherwise. But, he just said, "Fine," and then said nothing else.

She turned her back to him and walked up the stairs, although, halfway up, she braved one last glance at him for the night, to see him still sulking in his chair, like a sad, beaten king.

A king, Marcie hadn't known yet, that was about to lose his kingdom.

There were hills on the outskirts of Crystal Cove that lent their beauty to the town. Some were use for stargazing and picturesque views of the town at night, other were utilized for more intimate pursuits.

Schrödinger walked up one of those hills and rested upon its crest, looking out over subtly shining lights of Crystal Cove. For such a quiet town, it had its share of energy, he thought.

Energy...

He took a knowing look over at one section of town. At night, it could be seen somewhat better that during the day. The rainbow-colored distortion that hovered miles above the town.

It had grow noticeably larger than when it was detected many months past, and the cat knew that what he saw was just the part of the phenomenon that was visible, the rest had, and was, continuing to spread its invisible wall around Crystal Cove, strengthening its essence day by day. But why was it here? What purpose did its existence serve?

Those questions and more ran around Schrödinger's genius brain. He only hoped that he was smart enough to solve this mystery before these unwitting citizens became victims of it.