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Moe. Two words. Strong. Monosyllabic. Means. Few words. Loyal. Friend. Handy. Better around. Than not. Mystery baby. Orphanage. Inclusion kid. Helped Sally. Caught monster. Good guy.804Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwPdPF6FeRb
If you would like to know how the three friends have met for the first time, check out their first adventure!804Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlEJcyJXuUj
„Teen Monster Hunters“, now available on Amazon as print and eBook.
Bringing Moe Doe into the fold was a bit more tricky. Moe had limited physical and mental abilities. For one, his ability for verbal expression was limited, and you could never be sure what he understood. Did he comprehend the concept of secrecy or danger? He surely would never understand the non-disclosure agreement. On the other hand, with a mental disability, would anyone ever throw him in jail for the violation of an agreement he did not fully understand anyway? Moe’s background was unknown—he was the kid who just was left in front of the Hawthorne Postal Office when he was four years old. He did not talk or move, but was reactive and suggestive to simple commands. He was handed over into the care of Summer Farm’s child care, and he grew up into the eighteen year old giant he was today. He still did not talk much and was still slow. But he was Sally Storm’s third monster hunter.
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Black had tried to convince Sally to keep Moe out of the testing and possible future duty, but she had strictly stated that “It’s all or none, Agent”.
“But with him we will not be able to keep his guardians at Summer Farm in the dark. They must know what Moe is joining and what he will do.”
“Why don’t you just tell them a truth? Spin a heartfelt story.”
“You already have one in mind, Sally?”
Sally rolled her eyes. “Let’s say, Moe is joining a secret government facility because your scientists feel that kids with special conditions might have extraordinary mental abilities that should be further investigated…” She snapped out her phone and surfed the internet. “Here, this is an organization that includes people with autism into the workplace. Steal their introduction and arguments to make it work.”
“But is Moe an autist?” Black asked, puzzled.
“How should I know? I am just a Karate fighter who lives in a trailer park and likes to watch the Simpsons.”
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Black sat in the Summer Farm director’s office. Summer Farm was Hawthorne County’s home for special children and orphans, a former hotel resort on the shore of Lake Gardiner. It offered fresh air, quietness, excellent care and had woods and lawns The third person in the room was Victor, the main nurse who was assigned to Moe and drove him to school each day. Victor looked like a Russian mobster who got placed in a witness protection program and then got assigned to a job at the child care institution. From what Black had been able to gather from the CIA and NSA files, he was not spotless, but apparently reliable enough for this sort of work
“…Moe will be a part of that investigative research and at the same time will perform meaningful work for our institute.” Black finished her tale.
“Where will it conducted?” the director asked.
“In our lab, about a two-hour drive from here.”
“Will Victor need to drive Moe? Just thinking of my budget.” The director was a no-nonsense senior administrator, and he knew his priorities. Kids first, then budget, then anything else. Scientific research clearly fell under ‘anything else’.
“No, transportation will be provided by our institute.”
The director held Black’s fake business card that read SIA - Science Innovation Administration and gave Black a fancy “Research Director” title. The geeks in Washington had even created a fake institute homepage and some revelant Google search results.
“Where is the paperwork?” the director asked.
“All here. Read it, you got my number if you have any questions. Our next evaluation day is on next Friday. Ideally, we have it all squared away until then.” Black was proud of herself.
The director nodded absently. “That should not be a problem. Most of it looks straightforward. Victor, you know Moe best. Anything to consider?”
Victor stared at Black. Black hoped that he did not recognize her under her blonde wig and the glasses. “No, director. Listen, Madam. Moe is a gentle kid. Don’t stress him out. When he is not talking at all, he is in a bad shape. One word sentences are the norm. Two words in a row means he is in a good mood. Three words never happen. Ever.”
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