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“So if there’s armed guards, then why are people still falling over the edge?”

“It’s a big world, Vesta. They probably don’t have enough guards.”

“So monsters, huh?”

“Yep.” Scarlett was grinning now, obviously enjoying her tale. “One day a long time ago they came crawling out of the deep and ate all of the dinosaurs.”

“They ate the dinosaurs? Those must be some big-ass monsters.”

“Uh-huh. So that story about the dinosaurs going extinct after a meteor hit is all baloney—at least according to Fido.”

“No meteor but monsters,” said Vesta, nodding. “Gotcha.”

“So when I was finally done, he gave me this flyer, and invited me to join his cult. He says the more people join up, the more pressure they can bring to bear on the world leadership to reveal the truth.”

“About the people falling over the edge and the birds getting lost and the dinosaur-eating monsters.”

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“You know what we should do?” said Vesta as she yawned and stretched. “We should go to this meeting.” She was tapping the flyer.

Scarlett stared at her.“What are you talking about?”

“Scarlett, I don’t know about you, but I’m bored. Nothing ever happens in this town, and if this keeps up I’m going to die of boredom. You do know that people can die from boredom, right? You see it happen all the time with the folks that retire. Three months later they’re dead. Worked all their lives, forty years on the job, and three months into their retirement, bam, they drop dead.”

“You’re not retired, though. You still work at the doctor’s office.”

“Yeah, but that’s a borefest, too. I want some excitement, honey. Something to keep my mind engaged. And this flat earth business is just the ticket. I can feel it in my bones.”

“I don’t know, Vesta. It looks a little crazy to me.”

“Of course it looks crazy. Because it is crazy. So why don’t you and I infiltrate this organization and find out what’s going on?”

“Oh, I know what’s going on. A bunch of crazies getting together and driving each other even crazier than they already are. What surprises me, though, is how a guy like Fido would get involved in a thing like that. He never struck me as a nutter.”

“That’s what we need to find out. If these people can snag Fido, who’s next? Pretty soon this whole town will be part of this cult, and then when the FBI comes knocking, we’ll be the ones to save the day. We’ll be like Deep Throat.”

“What throat?”

“Never mind what throat. Let’s do this.”

“If you say so,” said Scarlett, dubiously.

6

Marge Poole was reading a book and was so engrossed by the exciting tale the author had spun that she didn’t even notice a customer had entered the library and was standing in front of her desk. Only when the person cleared her throat did she finally look up.

“Oh, hey, Mrs. Samson,” she said. Margaret Samson was one of her regulars, and came in every week, sometimes even twice a week, to load up on reading material. Her genre of choice was steamy romance, which for a lady as aged as she was sometimes came as a surprise to those who saw her fill her little basket with her favorite books. “I have that book you asked me to look out for,” Marge said as she put down her own book and picked up a tome she’d put aside for Mrs. Samson. It was called Fierce Hunk, by Courtney Divine, and featured a picture of a young man with an impressive six-packand a sort of smoldering look in his eyes.

Mrs. Samson’s own eyes lit up. “Oh, goodie,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for that one. I do wish these writers would write faster, Marge. Can’t you tell them to write faster? It’s been months since Fierce Heart came out, and I just know I’ll have to wait months for Fierce Betrayal, the third book in the trilogy.”

“I’d tell her if I knew her,” said Marge with an indulgent smile as she placed the book aside. From experience she knew that the old lady would load up on more reading material. One book was only going to keep her occupied for a couple of hours. She read a book a day, and sometimes even that wasn’t enough. “You could always write to her,” she suggested.

“Write Courtney Divine?” asked Mrs. Samson, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “You mean like a letter?”

“No, an email. Or you could even find her on social media, and get in touch with her that way.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Mrs. Samson dubiously. “She probably doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“I’m sure she’d love to hear from such a loyal fan as yourself. Here, I’ll write down her email and you can go over to one of the internet computers and write to her.” She handed the old lady a piece of paper with the email.

Mrs. Samson stared at it curiously and with a touch of reverence.“But… what do I tell her?”

“Just tell her how much you love her books, and tell her you can’t wait for the next one to come out.”

“Okay,” said the old romance addict. “I guess I can do that.”