That caused everyone to stop chewing.
“We need to keep that in mind,” Winston continued. “Agent Sm—Vern, do you have a car?”
“Yes. Do we need more help?”
Winston pondered that for a long moment.
“I vote for ninjas,” said Shade.
“I don’t think so,” Winston said. “More people are just gonna get hurt. And I hate to say it, but Bledsoe is right about one thing: the fewer people who know about this, the better.”
The others agreed.
“OK, then just a ride to Council Crest would be great,” said Winston.
Shade sat up straight and surveyed the food carts. “If you’re driving us, then we don’t have to take Tri-Met. That means we have time for dessert!”
Smith chuckled. “I can even put it on my expense account.”
That earned a cross-table fist bump. Shade and Smith were well on their way to being buddies.
“Do you know what happened to my friend Alyssa?” Winston asked
Smith shook his head. “Sorry.” He brought a long, wavy clump of noodles to his mouth and slowly slurped them up. He used his other hand to help guide them in. Winston’s gaze went from Smith’s pursed lips to the index and middle fingers of his left hand, which were just under his chin — and crossed.
“I thought it safest to get Alyssa as far away from this as possible,” the agent added. “She has an aunt in Montana. I put her on a bus this morning.”
Crossed fingers. Smith was lying and making sure Winston knew it. Right — because of what Winston had just said about Bledsoe having the geoviewer. So, if Alyssa was not on her way to Montana, where was she? And was she able to find any help? Winston desperately wished he could get the whole story.
Instead, he only muttered, “Ah. Out of harm’s way. Well, I’m glad one of us is safe.”
***
Winston’s mood dimmed with each passing mile as Smith drove him and Shade into the West Hills. Winston couldn’t shake the feeling that he had completely lost control of the situation. He’d failed his father, his mother had somehow walked into captivity despite promising to stay out of sight, and Bledsoe had likely been watching his every move. For all the good his three Alpha Machine pieces could do right now, Bledsoe had the one piece that mattered.
Feeling along Little e’s wrist guard as it sat between his knees, Winston fed his second-to-last energy marble into the artifact’s small opening. The portal snicked closed.
Make it count, he thought.
He grasped the crossbar and held his breath as Little e warmed up and synced with his mind. Winston unfurled the metal arms and had them embrace his three Alpha Machine pieces.
“Creepy,” whispered Shade.
“You’re creepy,” returned Winston.
“The park will be closed,” Smith said as they revved up the southwest Portland hillside. His phone notified them that they would reach their destination in five hundred feet.
The car’s wipers beat a steady, slow rhythm, like a tired heartbeat. The night beyond their cone of white-blue illumination seemed almost unnaturally dark, as if nothing else in the world mattered except for what lay directly ahead of them. Smith had the sedan’s heater cranked up, and, while Shade seemed unaffected, Winston found it stifling in the back seat. He ached to roll down his window. Perhaps a cold wind and raindrops stinging his face would help bring his thoughts back into focus.
He needed a better plan. That ninja army sounded better than ever.
“Shade?” he called across the back seat. “Any ideas?”
Shade opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. “No, dude. I think this is bad.”
Winston couldn’t argue with that. It said a lot that Shade appeared pale, even in the slight glow from the car’s dashboard.
“Are you OK?” Winston asked.
“Yeah.” Shade sat up straighter, took a deep breath, and tried to grin. “Just jitters. Low sleep and high stress. I’ll be fine.”
Across the road before them, a pair of triangular white barriers hung across both lanes. Scattered on the road between them lay a thick chain, a padlock, and a pair of bolt cutters.
“Yeah, it’s bad,” said Shade.
Agent Smith turned in his seat to examine the boys. His face seemed haggard, as well.
“Listen, I’m under orders,” he said. “Assist, but don’t interfere. This is as far as I can take you.”
Winston understood.
“I appreciate…everything,” he said.
Smith mustered a wan smile and shrugged. “The Bureau offers its apologies for all of your inconvenience,” he said.
Winston gave him a solemn nod, trying to convey his thanks through Smith’s charade.
The boys got out of the back seat and stood by the car. Indeed, the cool rain felt refreshing on Winston’s overheated face, although he suspected he might feel differently in a few minutes.
Winston watched as Smith backed up and turned onto the first side street. When the car was out of sight, he said, “We need to stop splitting up like this.”
Shade shifted his pack on his shoulders, making sure the straps were as comfortable as possible. “I agree. Too bad it’s always your idea.”
Winston shrugged, then he settled his own pack in place. They stood there silently for a moment, with only the glow of distant downtown and the illuminated windows of a few nearby homes around the park’s base to reveal their worried expressions.
For all Winston knew, everyone and everything he loved would be gone within the next five minutes.
“You ready?” Shade asked.
Slowly, Winston nodded.
Shade turned to his right, meaning to head into the trees near the park’s lower boundary, but Winston called after him.
“Hey, Shade.”
The boy stopped and glanced inquisitively over his shoulder.
Winston had so many things he wanted to say, none of which would ever suffice to express what he felt.
All he could get out was, “You’re the best friend ever.”
Shade gave Winston a wry smirk. “I know.”
With that, he trotted off into the trees and darkness.
Winston sighed and shook his head.
Dang. An even better Empire Strikes Back reference. That was the perfect parting line.
39
Council Crest Crisis
A gust of wind swept up the hillside, pushing at Winston’s back and nudging a cold spray of rain down his neck. For once, Winston was thankful that he’d listened to his mom. Dress for the night that’s coming, not the day that’s gone, his mom would always say. It wasn’t quite as concise as “winter is coming,” but Winston suspected his mom had never seen Game of Thrones. Either way, only now as he reflected on it did Winston realize that the expression had never really been about clothing and weather.
The road into Council Crest Park swayed gently to the right before merging with the oval loop that ran around the hilltop. The shortest route to the park’s center and the circular cement pad just beyond it was a straight line. Winston stepped over the curb and onto the park’s recently mowed grass. From here, he could see most of the water tower on the park’s north side, ringed by poplar trees as tall as the tower itself. A scattering of tall Douglas fir trees about the park further broke up the view.
Winston prepared as best he could. With Little e in his right hand, which in turn cradled the three spinning Alpha Machine pieces, Winston found it much easier to keep both reality layers equally in his mind. As he walked, he occasionally marked spots in the park to which he could suddenly geojump if Bledsoe tried to shoot him. Next to that fir tree. Alongside the water tower. Behind the screen of those cherry trees back alongside the road. All he had to do was mentally pull the trigger.
Where are you, Bledsoe? And what have you done with my mom?
Water from the damp lawn seeped into Winston’s sneakers. The trees stood still as the wind held its breath. No streetlights lit the park, an
d the red lights that adorned the massive radio tower beyond the water tank and outside the park’s boundary slowly blinked down at him.
Gradually, the hillcrest came into view. Beyond the broad open area where children so often ran about and Winston and his mom had spread blankets for countless summer picnics, he saw the squat stone wall that rimmed the compass circle, as he called it. Set within the cement circle lay a smaller circle of flat stones edged by a compass rose showing north, south, east, and west. Winston knew that, on a clear day, he could see five snow-capped mountains from this hilltop, all of them far beyond the Portland cityscape arrayed far below. Now, though, his entire world had condensed to the few square yards of this hilltop.
“Come on,” called Bledsoe. “We haven’t got all night.”
Winston still couldn’t see the man yet, but, of course, Bledsoe no longer had to worry about line of sight. He could be anywhere, keeping one eye on Winston around the clock. Winston cringed, heart hammering in his chest, then forced himself to keep ascending the hill.
A moment later, Winston found Bledsoe and his mother standing in the compass circle. Their heads came into view as he approached, then their bodies. Both faced him, but Bledsoe had learned his lesson in the blimp hangar. The gun in his right hand aimed steadily at Winston while his left hand clamped onto Amanda’s collarbone. Bledsoe kept her positioned to block most of his body. The geoviewer dangled near the crook of his left elbow.
Winston noticed that both of them appeared relatively dry, although Amanda’s cheeks were streaked with tears. They hadn’t been out here long. Bledsoe’s car must be parked out of sight somewhere.
“I love the idea of this hilltop compass,” Bledsoe said with an almost jovial bounce in his voice. “And the view! It’s like some message from the universe saying, ‘You can go anywhere from here.’”
Winston approached more cautiously. He knew what the man’s touch could do.
“Mom?” he asked as he approached the line of rose shrubs that lined the stone wall. Their pink blossoms and sweet aroma seemed out of place under a heavy night sky roiling with shadows. When he reached the end of the roses, he gingerly sat on the wall and swung his legs over to enter the circle, always with his eyes on Bledsoe, his next jump spot at the ready.
Winston meant to convey a lot with his one-word question. Mom, can you talk? Are you hurt? Why did you let yourself get captured?
“I’m fine, honey.”
She didn’t sound fine. She sounded shaky and hopeless.
“Look at the three of us,” said Bledsoe. “We have so much in common. I practically feel like we’re family.”
“Yeah,” said Winston. “You’re the skeezy, predatory uncle I never wanted.”
Bledsoe sighed with exaggerated patience. “And kids like you are why I never wanted children.”
From behind Bledsoe, he heard a sudden scuffling that seemed to originate from the water tower. Winston heard a sharp slapping sound followed by Shade crying out in pain.
“And like that one,” added Bledsoe.
Lynch and Shade appeared from behind the tower. Lynch, still with his left arm in a sling, hauled Shade along by the back of his collar. Shade cupped one cheek with his hand. When he met Winston’s glance, Shade scowled and said, “It wasn’t fair. He was hiding in the pump house.”
Lynch grunted with satisfaction.
“I can’t believe he slapped me,” muttered Shade. “My sisters can do better than that.”
Lynch didn’t miss a beat. He pulled Shade off-balance, spun him around, and landed a punch right in his solar plexus. The air gushed out of Shade, and he crumpled onto the grass just outside the compass circle. He fell on his side, both arms hugged around his middle, unable to make a sound or breathe.
Winston raised Little e and aimed it at Lynch. In that moment, he forgot about Bledsoe. He didn’t know if Little e could hold the Alpha Machine and control energy bursts at the same time, but he was willing to find out.
Suddenly, his tinnitus flared in his left ear louder than he’d ever heard, and two words burst above the intense ringing:
Winston, don’t!
It was his mother’s voice — in his head. Even before he could begin to question how that was possible, the tinnitus subsided to its usual level. He met his mother’s wide-eyed stare. Her mouth remained closed, but the fear and ferocity in her expression left no doubt that he wasn’t imagining this.
Winston, trust me.
He lowered Little e and shook his head slightly.
Mom? he thought to her. Can you hear me?
It had to be a function of the QVs. How had he possibly never known this about her? For that matter, how had she known about it if she’d never communicated with him?
Yes. Be patient. Wait for the right moment.
“Good choice,” called Lynch as he knelt beside Shade, grabbed one of his arms, and set it across his knee. “Point that thing at either of us, and I’ll make sure your friend never suits up for a game again.”
Bledsoe sucked in air through his teeth, eyes shifting everywhere. “See? Now, it’s getting interesting. Oh — here’s something you probably don’t know yet.” He leaned in closer to Amanda’s ear and lowered his voice. “Your mom and I made a deal.”
Mo-ommm? Winston thought with more urgency.
Wait, Winston. Trust me.
“What deal?” asked Winston.
Bledsoe smiled. His lips moved against Amanda’s hair. “Your mom comes with me, wherever I want to go, and you and your friend get to go free. Forever.”
Winston narrowed his eyes. “That’s it?”
Bledsoe shrugged. “Well, and you hand over the Alpha Machine, of course. But that’s it.”
“My mom would never agree to that,” said Winston. “I sure don’t. What’s your plan B?”
“Plan B?” Bledsoe began to laugh. “Plan B? Oh, son. You need to be more careful what you ask for.”
Bledsoe’s hand scooted a couple of inches up Amanda’s neck, far enough that Winston could see a couple of his fingertips on her bare skin.
Wait, Winston. Just—
Amanda’s body went rigid, back arching, mouth opening in agony as Bledsoe poured energy into her.
“Welcome to Plan B!” yelled Bledsoe.
Winston felt terror and rage roar through him like a flash flood. However, these feelings pressed against something else inside him, an icy calm that had not been there a moment before. That calm kept the rage in check, kept his hands at his side. His mind went into overdrive as time slowed to a crawl.
A gurgling escaped from Amanda as she stood on her tiptoes, hands trembling uncontrollably. Sparks flew from where Bledsoe touched her.
She might only have seconds to live. That was fine. Winston could work with seconds. Because somehow, in some way that would come to him in the next instant, he was going to kill this man, even if it meant losing the whole world.
Then something changed. Amanda closed her jaws, screaming through gritted teeth, but somehow she had taken back control of her body. In turn, Bledsoe’s eyes grew very wide. His mouth opened, and Winston saw blue arcs form between his lips. A guttural cry grew in his throat.
Amanda’s body twisted in his grip. Although her hands remained bound before her, she made a grab for Bledsoe’s gun. Amanda couldn’t quite reach it, but she did seize his wrist just below his handgun and redirected it into the air, away from her son.
Winston stood paralyzed with awe and terror. He had no clue his mother could do such things. He’d always assumed she was like Theo, that the QVs had barely touched her. Apparently not.
She and Bledsoe now fought to the death. Blue sparks danced where their skin connected. They gasped to breathe, eyes locked on one another. The metal in the butt of Bledsoe’s gun began to glow a dull red, and he screamed in agony.
***
Bledsoe felt as if his body were being flame broiled from the inside out. His muscles all but refused to obey him, and his vision darkened as his limbs tremble
d. Despite that, the torment seemed to focus his mind, as if every unnecessary thought and perception had been burned away. He felt explosive rage that this woman, the love of his life who had so viciously rejected him, now compounded his torment by physically using their shared power against him.
No one had ever been so cruel to him. No one had dared.
Even as his muscles betrayed him and his knees began to buckle, Bledsoe felt his senses heighten. From behind, he heard a quiet thrashing in the grass, followed by a small squeal of pain and Lynch growling “stay down.” The scent of late roses and rain-soaked grass, normally sweet and pleasant, felt overly sharp and cloying in his nose. From above and to the south, he heard the low, rhythmic thumping of a distant helicopter. The expression of stunned, immobile surprise on Winston’s face would have been laughable at any other time. All Bledsoe cared about was that he stood there, paralyzed, and didn’t interfere.
The part of him occupied with pain realized that the skin on his right wrist was sizzling. Blue light spilled out from his flesh around Amanda’s hands, just as her neck now glowed fiercely under his fingers. Bledsoe realized that his right fingers weren’t only burning with the sense of raw energy flaying his nerves. His gun was also quickly becoming unbearably hot in his palm. The metal of his gun butt began to shift from black to a dark red. The weapon would soon literally melt in his hand.
The energy that passed between him and Amanda crackled and snapped. The air itself felt like millions of steel pins jamming into him, and yet he could still feel the softness of her skin under his fingers.
That skin would never be his to touch, at least not in this timeline.
He had hoped all along. His ultimate victory was so obvious, and if she could have loved him once, it was foolish not to try again. Yet she denied and sneered and mocked and fought against him. Like now. This moment represented every injustice she and Claude had ever heaped upon him, and knowing that brought a new clarity to Bledsoe’s mind.
Winston Chase- The Complete Trilogy Page 61