It takes a bit longer to walk uphill than it did coming down on the sleds. Bree and I reach the top shortly after Aaron and wait for the others to catch up.
“What did Magda say?”
“You mean after she stopped cursing and ranting about how she’ll have to pay the security team anyway? We’re to meet her near Lake Placid. It’s about an hour away. They couldn’t fly into Plattsburgh, so they’re headed for a small private airport there. They’re getting the jet ready now. She was a little worried about seating—her jet only has room for twenty-five, and there’s seven in her party already.”
I run the tally in my head. “Should be fine. Taylor and Deo can go with her, and we’ll drive the camper back. We need to get to Baltimore as fast as possible, and I’d rather not have to explain that side trip to her.”
“Is Daniel okay?”
I shrug. “It’s hard to get a straight answer out of him. But you heard what he said in there. I didn’t get the sense he was bluffing. Blasting Timmons like that took a lot out of him. As soon as we hand the kids over to Magda, we need to head for Baltimore.”
Once everyone reaches the top, we continue at a faster pace. Ashley is right behind us at first, keeping a close eye on Caleb, but she begins to slow down, along with several of the others, as the hike continues. I’m guessing this is the most exercise any of them have had in the past month.
It may be the first fresh air they’ve had, too. Despite the cold and despite being clearly winded, most of the kids are actually smiling, tilting their faces up occasionally to look through the trees at the sky.
The temperature has dropped even further, though, and the wind is wicked enough that I doubt their good mood is going to hold for long.
Déjà vu hits full force as I watch Aaron forging ahead with Caleb on his back. I glance up at the moon, remembering when I saw it before, but still somehow noticing for the first time that it’s a crescent. Being glad that the clouds have cleared and that there’s still some semblance of the path we made on our hike in. Seeing the Christmas lights off in the distance. Pointing them out when Bree falters, telling her that the camper is even closer, looking back at Maria and Ashley and the others helping the kids—almost like the puppies in 101 Dalmatians. Wondering if the road will be clear enough for the RV.
When we reach the end of the events foretold in my flash-forward, I’m suddenly nervous. Before, I could be confident, certain that we’d at least make it to this point in time.
Anything at all could happen now. We’re in uncharted territory.
As I suspected, the pace slows, and I start hearing grumbles from behind. But once we spot the RV up ahead, everyone starts moving a little faster. A few of the older kids seem skeptical, asking how we’re all going to fit inside.
“It’s bigger on the inside,” I tell them. “Anyway, if we’re squeezed in tight, we’ll warm up faster.”
Aaron huffs. “Might be a tighter fit than it looks, since Deo is in the back bedroom. I think we should probably keep Caleb in the truck, even if he’s sedated, to separate him from Deo and his amp ability. And speaking of . . . how long can she keep Caleb sedated?”
“I don’t know.” The boy still seems completely out, his little head slumped forward, bobbing gently with each step Aaron takes. “What if Maggie and Deo were in the same room? Maybe they’d cancel each other out?”
“Or maybe it would be like mixing matter and antimatter and the entire RV would explode.”
“Hmph. You are not funny, Aaron Quinn.”
Bree tugs on my arm to stop me when we’re almost to the RV.
“What’s wrong?”
She grabs the front of my coat and pulls with more strength than I’d expect from someone her size. When I crouch toward her, she reaches up with one ungloved hand and touches the side of my face. A faint static shock runs through me, and then she says, “Hunter.”
Just the one word, and then she starts backing away from me, fear and sadness filling her eyes.
I’d really been hoping to delay this, at least until we were out of the cold.
“Bree, you can talk to him. Let’s just get inside. We need to—”
“Hunter’s in your head. There’s a monster in there with him. I saw it!” She takes another step backward, stumbling into a pile of snow. “What did you do to him?”
It takes Ashley and two of the older kids to get her into the camper. Every time I move toward her, she screams again. And inside my head, Hunter curls up into a small, dim ball on the other side of Molly’s cabinet and whispers his sister’s name, over and over.
Near Lake Placid, New York
December 21, 2019, 11:53 p.m.
Aaron’s shoulders relax when we turn onto the main highway. This section of the road must have been salted, because it’s relatively clear, unlike the slushy side road we just left. And even the side road was an immense improvement over the trail where we’d been parked. Aaron had to back up twice to get enough momentum to push snow away for the last hundred yards or so, and on the second try, the camper nearly skidded into a tree. There was no sign of the truck Taylor mentioned when we reached the end of the trail.
I point toward the intercom screen. “Will this distract you? I want to check in, see how they’re getting settled.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
There was no time for planning when we got to the RV. We just piled Ashley and Caleb into the back seat of the truck, and the rest of the kids, including the kicking and screaming Bree, into the camper.
Taylor answers, and I can see a few kids in the main cabin behind her.
“Just checking in,” I tell her, keeping my voice low. “GPS says we’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before we arrive at the airfield. Are things going . . . better?”
Taylor nods, although I can tell she’s a little uneasy. “Maggie has calmed Bree down a bit,” she says. “And Maria has been trying to explain about Hunter. Maria was a big help with the others, too. She already knew about Deo and why we need to keep the more volatile kids at the other end of the trailer. And she’s trying to use the normal mode of conversation, but . . .”
Her voice drops almost to a whisper on the last sentence, and her mouth quirks downward on one side.
“Yeah,” Aaron says. “We both know what you mean. It’s a bit unnerving.”
“Just a heads-up that there will probably be potato chip crumbs in your bed. The rest of them are back there, playing some sort of game. Maria says this is the first time some of them have seen each other since they left The Warren. Mostly they were kept in their quarters.”
Behind her, I see Maggie lean over and whisper something to Bree. The younger girl shakes her head, still not looking up from the floor.
“Deo’s temp is up again,” Taylor says, sensing my next question. “Only a degree. It’s nearly time for more Tylenol, so . . . could be normal fluctuation.”
“And how is your fever?” I ask.
Taylor stares at the screen. I can’t tell if she’s sad or scared or angry, but she’s obviously fighting some sort of internal battle.
Her expression eventually lands on angry, and she says, “Same as it’s been the past two days. Ninety-eight-point-frickin’-six. It’s not the damn flu, so stop pretending. The only question is what we’re going to do about it.”
The screen goes out. “Your sister is a lunatic, Aaron. You know that, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “Always has been.”
Hunter is very close to the front, and he’s not happy the screen was turned off.
Turn the TV back on. I want to see her. You need to let me talk to her!
Once we get to the airport, okay? We’ll try to find a quiet spot. Right now, I don’t think she would listen. Don’t think she even can listen.
That scares him. He both wants to talk to her and dreads it, which is perfectly understandable.
She will talk to you, Hunter. Once she’s . . . calmed down. And your mom can come to Sandalford to see her real soon. I’ll tal
k to Magda, and we’ll make it happen.
Hunter doesn’t respond, just slides away. I don’t follow, sensing that he needs some time alone. Or what passes as that, for anyone stuck inside my head.
I glance in the rearview mirror at Ashley and Caleb. We didn’t have a car seat, so she propped him up on the backpack, working the seat belt to hold it in place. The boy is sleeping soundly, and he looks absolutely angelic, tendrils of blond hair framing his chubby cheeks. A crisscross of white medical tape on the back of his hand holds a tiny catheter in place. It’s hard to reconcile the innocence in that face with the things that Daniel and Jaden said as we were leaving The Warren. But it’s also hard to imagine that this small child could alter the physical structure of the door to Room 81—or did he simply make me think that happened? I’m tempted to ask Ashley, but her eyes are closed, her head resting against the inside of the cab. While I doubt she’s asleep, she’s clearly not interested in conversation.
Looks can be deceivin’. Just because he seems innocent don’t mean he’s not dangerous.
I think Jaden is going to leave it at that, but then he laughs.
But it’s hard to convince people of that. Hunter’s sister is pretty freaked out right now. Bad enough to learn her brother died and now he’s hangin’ out in some strange lady’s head without also having to look at an extra from The Walkin’ Dead.
She’ll get past it.
Yeah. She would, in time. Hunter was freaked out to begin with too, but we’re buddies now, ain’t we?
Hunter either nods or says something I don’t catch, because Jaden laughs again.
Yeah. She would eventually get past it, but there’s no need to put the kid through that. And I don’t know if I’m takin’ up space or energy or whatever in here, but resources ain’t ever infinite, and I think maybe Daniel could use the bits I’m takin’ up. Like I said before, I’m ready . . . and I’m getting curious about what’s next, you know?
Tears sting my eyes, and I bite my lip to keep from losing it. I don’t cry when my hitchers go. This is good news for Jaden. Crying would be selfish.
You’re worryin’ about the dreams, aren’t you?
A little. But mostly . . . mostly I’ll just miss you.
Well, damn, girl. That’s the nicest goin’-away present anyone ever gave me. Maybe the only one, come to think of it, but still . . . You take care of yourself. And take care of my roommates in here. Oh, and let up a little on the guilt, okay?
My head fills with the light of a thousand tiny candles. They flicker gently, and I’m surrounded by the scent of sandalwood and the gentle music from the funeral parlor. The only thing missing is the sadness that hung in the air like a dense fog. In its place is a sense of peace, acceptance, and joy. Two bright-gold threads meet, intertwine, and vanish. Then the candles, like the fireflies in Peyton’s video game, blink out one by one.
For a long time, I sit with my eyes squeezed tight. Breathing. Letting go. When I finally open them, I catch a glimpse of something on the road behind us. We’re rounding a curve—one of many on this mountainous highway—and I get a brief look at the vehicle.
“You okay?” Aaron asks. “Thought you were asleep for a minute.”
I shake my head. I’ll tell him about Jaden later, when we’re alone.
“Just resting. But . . . there’s a white truck behind us. Like the one Taylor said she saw earlier.”
Aaron looks in the rearview mirror. “You sure it’s white?”
“Yeah, pretty sure.”
He shrugs. “Probably nothing to worry about. There are a lot of white trucks on the road. And I’m not sensing anything. But keep an eye on it.”
I do, confirming at the next bend in the road that it’s indeed white. But that’s all I can tell, especially since it’s dropped back a bit.
A beeping noise from the back seat startles both of us.
“What’s that?” Aaron asks.
Ashley pushes her blonde hair out of her face and then digs in her coat pocket. “It’s midnight,” she says, turning off the alarm on her phone. “Are we going to be stopping soon? I need to give Caleb another dose of the sedative at twelve twenty. I’d rather not do it while we’re moving.”
“We’ll be there in less than ten,” Aaron says. “With any luck, you’ll be all set up inside the plane by then.”
We ride along silently, and then something occurs to me, and I turn back toward Ashley. “Whose phone is that?”
“Um . . . mine?” she says, with the distinct implication that it’s a stupid question.
“No. I mean, is it a personal phone or a work phone?”
“Personal. I know what you’re going to ask next, and no. I’ve checked it thoroughly. There’s no way he’s using it to track us. But I can toss it if you’d like.”
I glance in the mirror again.
“The truck is still there,” I tell Aaron. “What do you think?”
“Not sure it matters,” Aaron says. “We’re, what—three miles from the airport? If Cregg’s got a tracker app on that phone, I think he’ll be able to figure out where we’re headed.”
“There is no tracking app on the phone,” Ashley says. “I’m not an idiot.”
When we spot the sign for High Peaks Regional Airport, we turn. I watch to see if the truck turns, too. It doesn’t, and I breathe a bit easier as we continue down the narrow road.
The airport is tiny, and mostly dark. There are only two cars in the lot. Off to the left, behind the fence that extends on both sides of the terminal—which I guess is what it’s called, even when it’s this tiny—are two large hangars and a few other outbuildings and open shelters. Four small planes are parked near the end of the row, along with some heavy equipment and a few trucks. Magda’s large silver jet is in front of the second hangar. It looks decidedly out of place.
Aaron parks near the fence and then taps the intercom. When Taylor answers, he tells her to hold tight until he talks to Magda.
We don’t have to wait long. Before we can even get out of the truck, a section of the fence is rolled away, and a luggage cart moves toward us. The driver, an older man, pulls up near the truck, with Magda on the passenger side facing Aaron. A younger guy sits on the rear of the cart. I can tell instantly that he’s private security—he looks us over carefully, and then his eyes start scanning the parking lot and surrounding area for threats.
“You made it,” Magda says. She’s annoyed, but there’s also a bit of grudging admiration in her expression. “I suppose I shouldn’t have questioned your vision, Anna—or, for that matter, your obstinance. I assume the children are all okay?”
Aaron nods. “They’re okay.” And then, just as I’m opening my mouth to say it, he adds, “But Deo needs a doctor.”
“As you told me earlier. It’s fortunate that I happen to have one with me.”
I feel an odd combination of relief and worry. “Does he . . . I mean, is he aware . . . ?”
“Dr. Batra is my personal physician. He’s cared for my daughters since we returned to London, so . . . yes, he’s aware of the circumstances. Perhaps we could get the adepts into the jet first, where there’s a bit more room. Bring them through the gate. Then the doctor can examine Taddeo and determine whether he’s healthy enough to travel.”
The cart drives off. There’s a security guard standing next to the gate, but he seems out of it, ready for this to be over with so that he can sleep.
“Wow,” Aaron says. “Just walk through. No standing in line for ID checks and security pat downs when you own the jet. Yet another benefit to being disgustingly rich.”
He starts to get out of the truck, but I hold back. “You might want to get Bree on the plane first, and then I can help with the others. I don’t want to upset her further.”
Hunter doesn’t like that idea.
If Bree goes on the plane, I want to go, too.
We’ll see, okay?
I’m gonna be lonely in here now that Jaden is gone, and Daniel . . . he’s . . . I t
hink he’s sick.
I know. But Bree is terrified of me, and, unfortunately, you and I are a package deal right now. I’m not sure that the pilot or anyone else would be comfortable if your sister screams the entire flight.
For now, I don’t address Hunter’s point about Daniel being sick, because it’s a strong argument for us not going in the plane with the others. I just push the boy back as gently as possible and wait for Aaron to tell me the coast is clear.
“Do you trust this Magda person?” Ashley asks from the back seat.
“I guess? This is the first time I’ve seen her face-to-face. It’s been video meetings before. And she’s certainly put a lot of resources into setting up a place for these kids to stay—a place that isn’t a pit belowground. I don’t get the sense she has any desire to exploit them. She wants to find a cure. So—yeah. I don’t entirely like her, but I guess I trust her.”
A tap on my window startles me, and I look out to see a dark-skinned man in his early thirties. He appears Indian, or maybe Pakistani. When I open the door, he extends a hand and introduces himself, in a crisp British accent. He’s dressed in jeans and a white shirt and has a large red bag slung across his shoulder.
“Dr. Rajpal Batra. I’m Mrs. Bell’s private physician, and I . . .” He frowns, peering into the back seat. “Is that the patient? I understood him to be older.”
“No,” Ashley says. “My nephew isn’t ill. He’s heavily sedated. And for everyone’s safety, we need to ensure that he stays sedated.”
Dr. Batra blanches slightly but gives her a nod. “Very well.” His eyes turn back to me. “I have a few questions about your brother’s symptoms and medical history.”
As I answer the doctor’s questions, the adepts begin to cross in front of the truck on their way to the plane. I’m still telling Dr. Batra about Deo’s otherwise unremarkable medical history when Aaron gives the all clear for me and the doctor to enter the camper. Then he begins helping Ashley move Caleb to the jet.