Professional Documents
Culture Documents
All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from
this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company,
215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
www.hmhco.com
The text was set in Weiss.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Arntson, Steven, 1973
The trap / by Steven Arntson.
p. cm.
Summary: In 1963, when twins Henry and Helen and their best friends, Alan and
Nicki, try to find Alans missing brother, Carl, they stumble into the knowledge of
their subtle forms that can separate from their physical bodies, and into a criminals plot to make himself immortalat any expense.
ISBN 978-0-547-82408-6
[1. SupernaturalFiction. 2. Best friendsFiction. 3. FriendshipFiction.
4. Brothers and sistersFiction. 5. TwinsFiction. 6. Family lifeIowa
Fiction. 7. IowaHistory20th centuryFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.A7415Tr 2015
[Fic]dc23
2014010211
Manufactured in the United States of America
TK 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
45XXXXXXXX
C h a p ter 1
seventh grade year was the first time I ever got punched
in the face.
It was August 1963 and a hot, humid summer afternoon outside of Farro, Iowa. I dont know if youve been
to southeast Iowa, but in summertime going outside here
can be like walking into a lung. I once saw a guy in a grocery store parking lot faint into his own shopping cart.
T h e T ra p
ArnTson
came neck and neck with Helen and left Alan trailing.
Alans bike was in sad shape. Hed inherited it from Carl
years ago. There were broken spokes front and back, and
the rear axle didnt have any lug nuts so sometimes the
wheel fell off. It was less of a bike and more of a bike accident.
mine was boys style with the straight top bar and hers
was girls style with the angled top bar so she could ride
while wearing a dress. (Not that she was wearing a dress.
She never wore one during summer vacation.) Identical
bikes are one of those things that happen when youre
twins, even girl and boy twins. Two of everything. Twins
are always plural, like pants or scissors. Nobody thinks of
a single pant, or just one scissor.
Our bikes were a little small. We were supposed to get
new ones this year for our birthday, but Mom and Dad
T h e T ra p
couldnt afford them. Dads job at the rail yard was giving him fewer hours, and we were having to tighten our
belts, Dad said. Keeping two old bikes was the equivalent of two notches on the family financial belt, I believe.
which shed done when she got it, angry about it being
girls style. She said I should have gotten the girls-style
bike, and maybe she was right, since she liked to go off
jumps and I didnt. Helen was also always quick to point
out that she was twenty minutes older than me. In general, she was the boss of us. For instance, when this plan
of seeking out Carls hidden campsite was first presented
by Alan, Id said, We should think about this first, which
is what I usually say. Then Helen had grabbed my ear and
dragged me outsideher usual reply.
North Half reeked of oil because around here they oil
dirt roads in the summer to keep the dust down. Im not
sure which is worse, the stench of the oil or the dust, but
I guess the people who spread the oil must hate the dust.
ArnTson
T h e T ra p
trouble.
To our left, Longbelly Gulch opened up, and to our
right, Longbelly Prairie, a wide bowl on the shaded northfacing slope. Although it was afternoon, a thin mist hovered over the grasses out there. I saw some cardinals and
bluebirds, and heard a woodpecker whacking a trunk.
look similar. People say so. Were blond and skinny and
we tend to dress the same, especially during the summer.
That said, I often feel like shes better than me. She doesnt
look awkward in her body. Her ears dont stick out as far
ArnTson
as mine (and she grows her hair over them anyway). Ive
always thought that for the twenty minutes after Helen
rushed out to be born, I was sitting in the womb, debating
whether or not to follow.
Helen.
T h e T ra p
The thing is, you guys, said Alan, I, um, found his
I think. Because there was one line that said, Meet Abe
7 p.m., Old Road.
ArnTson
very angry, but he took it, and I havent been able to find
it again.
Helen gave it a kick. Alan and I went to the dead campfires. How long you think these have been burned out?
he asked.
T h e T ra p
the spines. Nicki took the next one, whose title was AIRMAN CRUSADER VERSUS THE BAT CREATURES, and
she said, You ever read these kinds of books, Henry?
ture book. I read lots, and no sooner did I see these than I
wanted them, especially because Mom had been limiting
my trips to the bookstore for the past few months, as a
belt-tightening measure. Do you think theyre Carls?
She glanced a final time around the site and said, All
10
C h a p ter 2
T h e T ra p
ArnTson
T h e T ra p
14
C h a p ter 3
the sweltering afternoon. I described the cool glass bottles in our fridge, rattling in the door, and the refreshing
sensation of orange soda bubbling down a parched throat.
Then I remembered that we were out of orange soda. Orange soda had been declared a casualty of belt-tightening.
Our home is an old farmhouse with a white picket
fence out front. Not much to say, its nothing special, especially when its got no orange soda.
T h e T ra p
Henry, was that the first time youve ever been hit?
said Nicki.
said Helen.
Alan.
Carl was a senior at Johnson High, and on the varsity
baseball team. He was a great hitter, and a great first basemanlike Alan. They took after their dad, whod been a
pitcher in the majors, playing for the Twins until he hurt
his back a few years ago. All to say, baseball is huge in
16
ArnTson
Who do you think this Abe guy is, Alan? Nicki inter-
jected. And what are they doing out there in the woods?
and she was quick to respond. She leaped from her chair
saying, Gottago, and she was gone, the screen door slamming behind her only after shed jumped on her bike outside. She was too fast for me. I was still halfway through
recognizing the sound as Dad getting up from the living
17
T h e T ra p
Dad came through the kitchen door and saw me, Alan,
18
ArnTson
19
T h e T ra p
Dad sat at the table with me, and he didnt say any-
Dad nodded, and I could tell he was glad for the thank-
side to checkand the paper was there, rolled in a rubber band and leaning against the bottom step. I picked it
up and worked out the creases.
There were three articles on the front page. One headline read, Washington March Organizers Expect Peaceful Demonstration. Another said, Unions Gridlocked
Over Rail Contract. The third one said, Noted Philanthropist Died Saturday. Two of these were not going to
be of interest to Dad. And the one about the union didnt
sound promising.
20
ArnTson
breath as he stood and headed to the living roomtelling me to make dinner and put it in the fridge, because he
had a late shift with Mom.
I breathed a sigh of relief. He hadnt gotten mad. But
after I thought about it for a second, I realized there was
still some peril here for me and Helen. Dad knew wed
been fighting, and hed surely tell Mom, and probably get
riled up again unless I could provide a decent explanation.
He didnt look up, but I knew his big scoop ears were
Who hit you? said Dad, lowering the paper and thus
T h e T ra p
attacker. I felt weird admitting it was Carl, since hes Alans brother and I didnt want Alan to look bad. But there
was nothing for it.
newspaper said nothing, and yet my parents never canceled their subscription.)
After Dad left, my thoughts stayed with him for
a while. He used to work full-time for the Burlington
22
ArnTson
Northern Railroad as a fireman. You might think of a fireman as someone who puts out fires, but a fireman on a
railroad is the opposite. He keeps a steam engine powered
up on a steam locomotive. There werent so many steam
locomotives these days, thoughthey were mostly diesel. So the company wanted to get rid of firemen, but the
union contracts said firemen had to be part of crews. The
company had reduced Dad to part time, working nights
whenever he could get them. Now Mom, employed by
the company as a night clerk, was earning most of the
money for us, which wasnt much. I knew it was stressful. They argued about money sometimes, and of course
Helen and I had not gotten new bikes this year, and some
other things.
As I thought, I cooked. I decided to make chili. I emptied two cans of tomatoes and two cans of red beans into
the crock pot and then added onions, carrots, ground
beef, and plenty of chili powderId heard spicy food
helps you cool down on a hot day.
Once the chili was simmering and the kitchen was
full of good sneezy smells, I went into the living room. I
lay on the couch, and my mind immediately returned to
the fight. I remembered Helen yelling, and I remembered
standing dumb while my opportunity passed. As I relived
23
T h e T ra p
ArnTson
T h e T ra p
ArnTson
ward, his pure white cap shining in the sun ... the story
began.
I read Airman Crusader Versus the Centipede King in one sitting. It was great. Airman Crusader and his fellow airmen
hear about this secret potion that could make a person
27
T h e T ra p
ArnTson
T h e T ra p
and in my minds eye I saw Carl looming up, his giant fist
plunging at me.
It hadnt always been like this with him. He used to be
kind of nice.
Id known Carl and Alan for about four years, ever
since they moved to Farro. Theyd sort of crash-landed
in the mobile home up the road after their dad washed
30
ArnTson
being a stranger and older than us, and big. But he wasnt
mean then. He seemed happy for the help. Together we
blocked out the diamond, and Carl hammered stakes with
string running between to define the baselines until he
could lime them. Then he let us take a few swings with his
beat-up old Louisville Slugger.
T h e T ra p
ArnTson
to see what the summary said on the back, but there wasnt
anything. The back was blank too, without even a price
listed.
I opened to the first page.
CHAPTER ONE
You think you are one person in one
body, but that is a fault of perception.
In fact, you are one person in two bodies. Your first body: weight, mass, matter. Your second body: weightless, massless, flowthe subtle form. One body
upon the other, within the other, each the
shadow of the other. The subtle sleeps
and wakes with and within the physical,
or so it has been. Now learn: The physical sleeps, the subtle wakes! The physical
lies still, the subtle walks! This is the art
we teach.
T h e T ra p
kids now.
Uh-huh, I agreed.
She padded off to her room, and I heard her door click
shut.
Id never been more absorbed in a book. I was even a
little scared. It didnt seem like a story. It seemed like it
was describing something realthat a person could step
right out of their body while their body was sleeping.
Youd be yourself, but invisible. This was called subtle
travel. The part of you that did the walking, your second
body, was called the subtle form.
ArnTson
T h e T ra p
144, 233, 377, 610, 987, 1597, 2584, 4181, 6765, 10946,
17711, 28657, 46368, 75025 ...
I kept concentrating, and the numbers showed no sign
of stopping: 121393, 196418, 317811, 514229, 832040,
1346269,
2178309,
3524578,
5702887,
9227465,
ArnTson
37