Brainwashed! by R. McGeddon

Author:R. McGeddon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Imprint

Sam skulked along the streets, keeping an eye on things and watching out for nonsense. Everyone was going about their business as normal. Shopkeepers kept their shops, innkeepers kept their inns, and beekeepers sold honey that was nice, if a bit on the expensive side.

Up ahead, Sam’s dad stepped out of the paper shop, which immediately fell over and blew away. Mr. Saunders smiled when he spotted his son, and Sam smiled back because it would have been rude not to.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hi, Sam,” said Mr. Saunders. “What you up to?”

“This and that,” Sam replied. “What about you?”

“Not sure,” said Sam Sr. “Just sort of milling about and not really sure why. It’s like I’m waiting for something, but I don’t know what.” He laughed. “Sounds silly, I know.”

“Ha ha, yeah,” said Sam, forcing a laugh. “Really silly. Anyway, Dad, I was wondering if…”

There was a screech from the nearest speaker, then that weirdly wobbly tone started to drift down the streets of Sitting Duck. Mr. Saunders’s eyes glazed over in an instant.

“Goode is good,” he said, and Sam could hear the same sentence repeated by everyone within earshot. “Goode is good.”

“Come to me, people of Sitting Duck,” commanded a voice Sam recognized as Priscilla’s. “Come and lend your allegiance to Mayor Goode.”

“Goode is good,” droned the townsfolk. “Goode is good.”

Mr. Saunders about-faced and joined the throngs of other Sitting Duckers who were all making their way back to the Town Hall. Sam had no choice but to follow. The crowd swept him along like a big river of people who have been brainwashed.

“So here we are again,” Sam said with a sigh. “If it isn’t zombies or aliens, it’s a power-crazed supervillain threatening the safety of everyone in town.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think we should all just stay in bed.”

The crowd surged on toward the under-construction Town Hall. This time, though, they didn’t stop by the fence. The gate had been thrown wide and they pushed in, jostling and bumping Sam, and giving it all that “Goode is good” stuff in his ear.

Beyond the gate, they headed toward the big tarp. Sam caught a glimpse of his dad up ahead somewhere, as the tarp was lifted enough for everyone to duck underneath.

When Sam made it through to the other side, he clattered straight into the guard with a weapon.

“Oops, sorry,” he said, and then from the corner of his eye he saw Coach Priscilla. She turned to look at him suspiciously.

Sam let his eyes glaze over. “Goode is good,” he said.

“Goode is good,” replied the guard.

Priscilla gave a nod and then turned away. Sam shuffled past the guard and got his first look at the Town Hall.

ONLY IT WASN’T A TOWN HALL!!!!!

Didn’t see that coming, did you?

Where the Town Hall should have been was a tower of steel girders. It stood a couple of stories high, wide at the bottom and tapering to a point at the top. Townsfolk clambered over it like insects, screwing in bolts and hammering in studs.

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