“SOS,” Max typed. “Leave home NOW. Get Ic, NOW. As in NOW.”
“Meet at the Mine?” Ozymandias came right back to her.
“K,” Max affirmed. “CUsoon.”
Max and Matthew zipped back to the Marshall house to get their gear and check that everybody was all right. Amazingly, Art and Terry had slept through it all.
Then Max and Matthew did what she knew they were going to do sooner or later—they flew the coop.
39
THE OLD RUTTED ROADS that once led to the Mine near Prairie Divide had been totally consumed by the encroaching forest. Now it was accessible only from the air.
That worked.
Oz and Icarus ran out of the Mine entrance as Max and Matthew dropped from the dark night sky. There was a flurry of excited but nervous greetings.
“I’m free, I’m free!” Icarus kept saying over and over. “And a blind man shall lead them! I am that blind man!”
Max noticed that Ic had grown since she had last seen him. His white-blond hair was shoulder length and he was almost as tall as she was. His sightless blue-gray eyes seemed to actually focus as he picked Matthew up and held him.
“Put me down, Icky!” her brother yelped. “I’m not a fricking baby anymore. I’m grown up!”
Breathlessly, Max told Oz and Ic about the men who’d broken into the Marshall house with murder or mayhem on their mind.
“I think one or more of them were doctors. It’s a feeling I had,” said Max.
“It’s starting all over again,” said Ic. “We should go get the twins. The little ones aren’t safe, either. Damn, we should go get them now, this instant.”
“They’re doing cereal commercials,” Matthew said. “They’re probably safe.”
Max raised her voice. “They’re not safe.”
There was no further dissent, so, with some agitated warbles and whistles, they took off one at a time, falling into formation at two hundred feet. They headed southeast toward the town of Fort Lupton, where Peter and Wendy lived with their biological parents and were supposedly safe.
40
THE FLIGHT WAS much different from the one Max had taken just two nights before. Everything had changed. She took no pleasure in the moonlight or the play of light and shadow on the forest below. As the eldest by a couple of months, she was the leader of the flock, and the others looked to her and Oz for guidance. Max had already figured it might be hard to take the twins from their home. They were still babies really, hard to predict, hard to control.
But it had to be. There was no alternative.
Someone was coming for them.
They passed over the little town of Fort Lupton and soon neared the Chen farmhouse. It sat on a knoll a quarter of a mile up a driveway, at the end of a narrow dirt road. Their closest neighbor was more than half a mile away.
A perfect place for murder, Max thought. Or capture. Or whatever the creeps in black are up to.
She and the boys landed in a clump of pines that gave them a clear view of the farmhouse.
A flagstone path, which bisected the front lawn, led up to a wraparound porch that was full of wicker furniture and shaped three sides of the house.
Oz pointed to the Garfield the Cat doll stuck to one of the upstairs windows. “Wendy loves that dumb cat.”
“Okay,” said Max, nodding. “That’s their room. I’ll go up. I don’t want them to be frightened yet.”
Max flew to the porch roof, landing softly. Then she crept over to the twins’ bedroom window.
It was unlocked. Uh-oh. She opened the casement window and began to climb inside.
Please don’t let me be too late.
“Boo! Hey, Max,” said Peter. “We saw you coming a mile away.”
“Heardya, too,” chorused Wendy.
If Max worried that she would have to convince Peter and Wendy to join them, she was wrong. The four-year-olds grabbed her, hugged and kissed her, and trembled with happiness. There was a blowup of one of their cereal ads spanning the twin beds. Disgusting, Max thought. Makes me want to start a war with Battle Creek.
“Oh, wow, a night flight,” said Peter. “Let’s skedaddle.”
“A flock flight, we’re going on a flock flight!” Wendy whooped.
There was a pounding on the wall. Then the muffled voice of Joe Chen. “Knock it off, Peter and Wendy. You kids go to sleep right now! You know you have an important film shoot in the morning.”
“We’re stars,” Peter whispered, and winked.
Max froze. She listened to her heart pounding. She waited until she was sure no footsteps could be heard outside the room. Then she helped Peter and Wendy dress and pack. Carefully, quietly, quickly.
Moments later they were crouched on the porch roof. Shades of Peter Pan. Kind of cool, kind of crazy, kind of nuts.
Wendy whispered, “Where are we going?”
“It’s a secret,” Max whispered back.
They pushed off into the clear black night and followed Max’s lead.
“It’s a secret!” shouted little Peter and Wendy. “It’s a big secret.”
41
THEY WERE ELATED to be together again—the flock!
The tribe!
The family!
Just as it had been for a few precious months at the Lake House.
They did fancy aerobatics high above the snow-dusted woodland. Their innocent laughter floated clear and wide for miles and miles around. They were a miracle to watch. Better than any show the U.S. Air Force had ever dreamed up, or ever would.
Matthew, at the advanced age of nine, led the “junior squadron” in dive-bombs and incredible triple barrel rolls. He took the twins on a chase over and around a distressed pair of horned owls that were hunting. Oz and Ic were also having the time of their lives. Because he was blind, Ic needed Oz to help him “see.” The kids had developed a verbal code, or flight language, to guide Icarus.
Chee-rup meant fly straight; caw was turn left; cree was the signal to turn right. A talondrop was a free fall, feet first, and nothing in “bird talk” satisfactorily replaced the fantastic power of the words climb and dive.
The kids combined some of the words together. Caw-roll meant roll to the left, and chee-rup-te-rup-te-rup meant to fly up and down like a roller coaster. When they were relaxed and gliding, Oz and Ic exchanged short whistles and tongue clacks and hoots, or sometimes they sang the lyrics to “Bad to the Bone” and “My Sharona.”
Max was filled with pride. They had survived the sick hellhole of the School, where they were forced to work in the labs, kept in cages, and lived under the constant fear of being put to sleep. Until last year, they had never ridden in a car or gone to a movie or a city, and they had never ever done what they were made to do.
They had never spread their wings to fly.
As she was having the brief happy thought, mischievous Matthew’s enthusiasm overflowed. “Snacks for the road,” he called out in a squeaky-high voice. “Who’s hungry as hound dogs?”
Matthew had spotted a 7-Eleven convenience store on the highway that ran through the town of Lyons. Blinding neon green and orange glowed up at them. He whistled to the twins, and they shot toward the inviting open doors like arrows toward a bull’s-eye.
All Max could do was yell, “No! Guys! No way! Please, stop! Don’t do this!”
She might just as well have saved her breath.
She watched helplessly as the kids buzzed the store shelves, spilling and knocking over jars and cans in their wake.
“Ring Dings!” Wendy shouted, grabbing a couple of packets of the chocolate cakes from the rack.
Peter hovered in front of the salty snack section before selecting a giant-size package of Cheez Doodles.
Matthew ripped off a box of Cracker Jack candied popcorn and some Tostitos tortilla chips. Finally they flew shrieking joyously out of the store, leaving the wide-eyed, grunged-out teenage boy at the cash register bedazzled and befuddled.
“Never again,” Max scolded whe
n they’d gotten back into flight formation. “What you did is stealing, and that’s wrong, wrong, wrong. That poor boy is going to have to clean up your mess.”
“We’ll be good, Max,” Peter said, licking orange crumbs from his lips. “Pinky swear. We’ll be good from now on.”
Max wanted to smile, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t so much worried about the petty theft as she was about the fact that they’d been seen.
Now there was a witness only twenty or so miles from Bear Bluff.
And Frannie’s house.
42
I WAS HAVING a pity party on the back porch of my place, with a nicely chilled bottle of Turning Leaf chardonnay at my elbow, when I heard the phone ring. Screw it. I didn’t pick up.
My medical-emergency calls were being shunted over to my relief, Dr. Monghill, in Clayton, the next town west. I felt too low to inflict my blues on some innocent caller, whoever it might be.
I sat just soaking up the atmosphere: the crickets, the blinking stars, and the all-you-can-drink vino when the phone rang again, and now it really tweaked me.
World.
Leave me the hell alone.
Then I heard a police siren in the distance.
Now what?
I left my wine on the porch and went inside. I’d just about rewound the answering machine when I heard the infernal siren come to a stop. This Bud was for me. I ran outside.
I saw a bright flashlight come shining through the woods. It was Trooper Brian McKenna. I called out, “Hey, Mac.”
“Hey, Frannie. I thought you were here. Why didn’t you answer your phone? You had me worried.”
“I punched out for the night,” I said. “What’s up?”
“The kids are missing,” said Mac, putting one heavily shod foot on the porch step and his meaty hand on the railing. Big Mac had tried to date me, too, and he was married. “You know anything about that? I hope that you don’t, Frannie.”
A shudder passed through me. “Missing? What do you mean? Who’s missing?”
“All of them, Frannie. They’re all gone, the six of them just vanished. Do you have them here, or have any knowledge of where they are? If you do, tell me and that’ll pretty much put an end to any kind of trouble for you.”
“I don’t have them here, Mac,” I said. “And I haven’t heard a word from any of them.”
“Mind if I take a look inside?” the trooper asked.
“That hurts my feelings. But knock yourself out,” I said. “Jeez, Mac.”
He gave me a sidelong glance that told me he disapproved of my attitude, or maybe I was slurring my words, I wasn’t sure which. I definitely wasn’t drunk, but I had made some progress in pain management. Still, I was stunned by the news. I talked to the kids a couple of times every week. Although I missed them terribly, I had lulled myself into thinking that they were safe, if not happy. That dull comfort had just evaporated.
I followed the serious young statie into my house and watched him poke around. When he was satisfied that I didn’t have six young children under the bed or in the washer-dryer, he apologized for any rudeness and asked me to please stay in touch.
“If you hear from or see those kids, call me, Frannie. Beep me, or you can talk to anyone at the barracks, okay? The parents are frantic.”
“I understand.” I actually did. I felt frantic myself.
The trooper touched the brim of his hat and went back down the wooded path toward the road.
The little buzz I’d been cultivating was completely gone. I had been lonely and self-pitying a few minutes before. Now I was sick to my stomach and too scared for words.
There was only person I could truly depend on for advice and solace right now.
And that would be Kit.
43
I THREW ON every light in the kitchen, and I had no real idea why I did it. Because I was scared?
The tap was dripping, so I wrenched the knob to stop the relentless pinging in the stainless-steel sink. I slammed a couple of cabinet doors shut, then I perched on the edge of a stool.
I took a few deep breaths, then finally pressed buttons on the cordless phone.
I listened to the ringing sound in my ear.
It was half past midnight, so I wasn’t surprised that I caught Kit at home sleeping. Happily for me, he recognized my voice and didn’t hang up. I said as much.
“Why would I hang up on you, Frannie?”
Well, the last time I’d actually seen Kit had been after the custody trial in Denver. The way I remember it, he was trying to comfort me but I was inconsolable. Our phone conversation afterward had been heartbreakingly short. Let’s take a break, yada yada yada. We need to heal. If it’s meant to be, it will be. We’d both been too wounded to actually deal with each other. We hadn’t spoken since I sent his things back by UPS.
“I just heard that the kids are missing, Kit. All of them! A state trooper was here and told me all six of them are gone.”
There was a pause and I knew that Kit was in shock, thinking of all the horrible possibilities, just as I had done. Why would the kids run away together? Why now? Where would they go? But worst of all, had someone kidnapped them?
I was completely unprepared when Kit said, “I know, Frannie. I couldn’t tell you, so I’m glad the local cops came by.”
“You what?” I actually yelled into the phone receiver. “You knew about this?”
“I couldn’t tell you. I wasn’t allowed to call. I was forbidden under orders from the director.”
I just hated it when Kit went FBI on me.
“You jerk,” I said. “You seriously thought it was better for me to hear this from a stranger? Oh, never mind,” I said.
Then I hung up on him.
44
I SAT ON THE KITCHEN STOOL, holding a dead phone in my hand and fuming at Kit. I was really hot, and hurt. I stared at the Colorado State Wildlife calendar over my stove for a while. Pretty pictures, but they didn’t help. I had to get out of the house, or go crazy.
I took my denim Carhartt jacket off the back of a chair and put it on. Then I whistled for Pip. “You want to walk with me, little guy?” He couldn’t believe his luck.
We set out on a trail that runs along the top of a ravine. Fortunately, the moon was almost full, so we had plenty of light.
Pip ran up and down the gully, snorting and chuffing. I could hear various four-footed beasts scurry deeper into the woods at the sound of my footsteps on the forest floor.
Then I heard rustling in the trees overhead.
An image of a bobcat came full into my mind. I froze at the thought of a ninety-pound cat somewhere in the skinny branches right above my head. Not good. Very bad, actually.
There was more rustling up there. My knees went a little weak. Then a voice I recognized.
“Hey there, Frannie. How’s life on the planet?”
First Max jumped down from the thick, overhanging branches. Then out came Matthew, Ic, Oz, and the twins. Everybody was hugging me at once. Wendy kept saying, “Mama, Mama, it’s you, Mama!” My heart was melting. Nothing I could do to stop it, not that I really wanted to.
The pack of us finally separated, and we scrambled, jogged, and literally flew back to my cabin. We celebrated with hot chocolate and cookies, pineapple chunks for Wendy and Peter. I couldn’t take my eyes off the little feathered wunderkinder.
I was so relieved to have them in my kitchen, each one alive and well. I mentally counted their fingers and toes. I kissed their sweet faces again and again. And I wondered, What am I going to do now?
After dessert, Max was still hungry. “I’ve had a really long night,” she said, laughing. “I could eat a rhino. But pasta with marinara will have to do.”
Max knew her way around my kitchen and insisted on doing the cooking. She took a large pot from the pegboard over the stove, filled it with water, and put it on the burner. Ozymandias located a jar of red sauce in the pantry. Matthew started chopping parsley.
They were home again, home
again. God it was sweet. The best stuff on earth.
As Max and the crew cooked pasta, she told me why they had run away. With disturbing nonchalance, she described the armed men in black who’d broken into the Marshall house. She used a line from a recent movie poster: “Same planet, new scum.”
I wasn’t laughing. I was shocked, horrified, chilled to the bone. I asked Max point-blank if she knew why someone was after them.
She shrugged, then said, “Because we’re priceless works of art? Who knows? Let’s leave it at that, Frannie.”
At about 2:00 A.M. Wendy and Peter and Matthew and Pip finally fell asleep on my bed. I put Max under a quilt on the sofa and threw blankets and pillows down on the floor for tough guy Oz. Ic tucked himself into the linen closet, which was where he felt most secure. I kissed everybody good night.
Once they were asleep, I knew I had to give some serious thought to the situation. Six extremely frightened kids were in my house, and they were on the run from someone who apparently wanted to harm, or possibly sell, them. Who? And why, why, why?
Trooper McKenna had told me to call him, but I hadn’t done it. Past experience had taught me not to trust people just because they had badges or even positions with the government.
The FBI was involved.
If Kit couldn’t tell me about the kids, could I tell him?
I fell asleep on that thought.
Part Four
YELLOW BRICK ROAD
45
The Hospital
Kristin Morgan was a senior medical technician who had one job only, but she figured that it made her an important, if small, part of medical history. In fact, her perspective on herself had given rise to her nickname, Cog.
She was in charge of the Scoop, a streamlined titanium instrument with Porsche-like curves and sensitive calibrations, which, like an expensive car, needed constant fine-tuning. Cog was responsible for the Scoop’s performance and maintenance, and it would be her neck if anything went wrong with this state-of-the-art technotool. And that was no joke at the Hospital.