9: The Smedley Butler
“Do you think the ship is still coming,” DJ asked as he followed Paul toward a section of the fields where the corn hadn’t been torn apart by the chase. “The one Rick mentioned? The something-Butler?"
“The Smedley Butler.” Paul crunched through the corn. “And no. A pirate ship would have to be crazy to dock here with all of this Security around. Luck kept us out of that roundup, but this isn’t over. The Mountaineers will ask those guys about two kids, one with a stringless guitar.”
“I don’t think anyone’s here but us,” DJ said. “I don’t even hear the saucers.”
“Maya,” Paul muttered.
“Oh, of course.” DJ chuckled. “You got that off to a great start.”
Reaching a small, well-camouflaged space within the dense section of the fields, Paul said, “We’ll make camp here.”
