“I don’t know.”
“And why would Pangaea take those people? For what purpose?”
“I don’t know!” Lucy cried impatiently. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. It doesn’t mean they aren’t alive, that they aren’t somewhere out there...wanting to come home.”
The train doors opened, and Lucy backed into the subway car. Just as the doors began to close, Morris leaped into the car beside her.
“I’m coming with you,” he said.
~
Geoffrey stumbled through the back door and glanced both ways. He stifled a groan of pain, and pressed his blood-soaked handkerchief to his nose. He desperately hoped his grandfather would not see him. “Never fight, Geoffrey,” Grandfather had always said. “Fighting is never the answer. But if you must attack, use a quiet plan. Use the attack route that no one suspects.”
A quiet plan doesn’t work when you have five bullies attacking you all at once! Geoffrey thought miserably. He headed towards the kitchen to grab some ice. If he was lucky, he might be able to decrease the swelling before dinnertime.
As he passed down the hall, he noticed the living room double doors were shut. That was odd; those doors had never been shut, as far as Geoffrey remembered. Curious, he pressed his ear to the door.
“Almost complete, sir,” a voice said.
“Hurry up,” Grandfather’s voice snapped impatiently. “I haven’t got all day.”
What?
Geoffrey was more confused than ever. He turned to continue down the hallway, when something caught his foot. A large white icebox beside the double doors—he had not even noticed it. He crashed to the floor.
The double doors flung open; Grandfather appeared in the doorway. Beside him stood a man in a long white lab coat. The man leaped forward and pulled Geoffrey to his feet. “Geoffrey!” Grandfather exclaimed. “What happened here?”
Geoffrey wiped a fresh stream of blood from his nose. “I tripped on that box,” he grumbled.
At this point, Grandfather noticed the blood. “Your nose, Geoffrey! What is all this blood?” he pulled the handkerchief away from Geoffrey’s face. By now the nose had swollen red and purple, encrusted with dried blood. “Who did this?”
“I got in a fight,” Geoffrey mumbled. “They sent me home from school early.” He dug in his pocket, and fished out an envelope. “Here’s the note.”
Grandfather took the envelope, but he didn’t pause to read it. He tossed it onto the hall desk. “I’ll take care of that later. First, let’s take care of that nose. Dr. Canidia, if you please—clean up my poor grandson’s nose.”
“Right away, sir,” the man said, with a bow.
Geoffrey started towards the living room, but Dr. Canidia quickly drew the doors closed.
“Not in there,” the man said firmly. “We’ll go to the kitchen.”
~
The police boat carrying Lucy, Morris, and the policemen paused at the border barricade, just beside the dock where a group of soldiers had been stationed. One of the soldiers approached the newly arrived boat, and smiled cordially. “Hello, folks,” he said. “My name’s Bill. How can I help you today?”
The policeman handed a folded paper to Bill. “We have reason to believe a kidnapper passed from our territory to across the river, into Pangaea. That paper contains a picture of the kidnapped boy, Timmy Holmes. And this lady—” he gestured to Lucy, standing beside him, “is Timmy’s teacher, Lucy. So, have you seen the kid?”
Bill unfolded the paper and examined the image for a few moments. He shook his head. “Can’t say that I have,” he said. “When did the boy disappear?”
“Just a few hours ago, at about 3 PM.”
“At 3? I wasn’t here yet, but Charlie was. Maybe he saw something.” Bill turned and called, “Hey, Charlie! Over here!”
A soldier jogged over to the group. “Yeah?”
“Charlie, you were here at 3 PM. Did you see this boy come across the river with somebody?”
Charlie glanced at the photo. For a moment, his eyes seem to light up with recognition, but he quickly shook his head. “Nope,” he mumbled. “Never saw them before in my life.” He shrugged. “Sorry I can’t help you.” He turned to leave.
“Wait, sir,” Lucy said, grabbing Charlie’s sleeve. “You don’t seem to understand. This boy has been kidnapped from his parents; they’re worried sick. If you know anything, or if you even suspect something, you’ve got to tell us!”
“I’ve already told you,” Charlie said angrily. “I don’t know nothing.” He pushed Lucy’s hand away from his arm.
“Whoa, whoa!” Morris cried, stepping between Lucy and Charlie. “Easy, Charlie! The lady is just trying to find a lost kid. No reason to be so rough!”
Charlie spat and stomped away. The others awkwardly stared at each other, unsure how to react. At last Lucy spoke. “Well,” she said, “thank you for your help, Bill.”
“Sure, anytime,” Bill stammered. “Sorry about Charlie, ma’am. He’s just a little uneasy around strangers.”
“Well,” the policeman continued, “if you find anything else out, don’t hesitate to call me. The number is listed on the bottom of that poster.”
“Sure, sir,” Bill agreed. “I’ll make copies and hang this everywhere a nail will stick.” He reached into his pocket and removed several papers. “Listen,” he whispered, handing the papers to Lucy and Morris. “Don’t tell Charlie I did this, but I’m giving you entry papers to Pangaea, for the two of you. Charlie will be gone in a couple hours, and you can get through the entry point without him seeing you. I am deeply sorry about him, ma’am. Please understand that we Pangaeans aren’t all like Charlie; we’re really very welcoming and open people.”
~
“You stupid, stupid fool!” Dr. Lucusta shrieked. “How could you? After all my painstaking research, and work, and time!”
Bertie nervously shifted from foot to foot. “I…I’m sorry.” Her eyes glanced uncomfortably at the huge glass box. It was filled with ten grey embryos floating in red-orange gel, but none of the forms moved.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?” Dr. Lucusta hurled a beaker across the room.
“I did everything exactly as you said,” Bertie insisted. “I can’t understand how they died.” If only those girls could see him in this state, with his purple face and sweaty brow, they would not find him so charming. She picked up a broom and began to sweep up the shattered beaker Dr. Lucusta had thrown. “You know,” she began, “I once read a legend that the world had become so morally corrupt, that animals of different species bred together and gave birth to strange new species. The immorality was so immense, that God decided to destroy the entire world, in a massive Flood. All life drowned—except for a little boat, where the pure species survived.”
Dr. Lucusta spun around from his lab bench. “The only God at work here,” he whispered hoarsely, “is me. I decide who will survive, and who will die.”
“Why are you so upset?” Bertie demanded. “I said it was a legend. I never said it was true.”
Dr. Lucusta’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “And do you believe that legend?”
“Why do you care?” Bertie said carelessly. “I’m just ‘delusional.’”
~
After passing through the security entry, Lucy and Morris had disappeared into the crowded street without being noticed. Every few moments they paused to show the poster of Timmy to one of the people, and to ask if they had seen the boy. But no one answered; the Pangaeans just pushed on past and ignored Lucy completely. “This is ridiculous,” she grumbled. “No one wants to help us.”
Suddenly Morris exclaimed, “Ah. So you believe in God.”
Lucy looked at him, startled. “How did you know?”
“That book. In your coat pocket.”
“Oh—right. Yes, I believe in God. Do you?”
“Nope.”
Lucy raised her eyebrows. “Ah, I see. So, what made you become atheist?”
Morr
is laughed. “You religious people are so funny. You think every atheist has some incredibly sad story of ‘what drove us to become atheist.’ There’s no sad story, honestly. I just don’t believe in God, because I don’t need Him. I can make my way through life just fine with science, thank you. I don’t need some two-thousand year scroll telling me what to do, what not to do.”
“There’s no expiration date on truly good advice,” Lucy replied.
Morris shrugged. “Depends what you consider good advice.
If it is truly the Word of God, why are so many religious people so bad? Just look at all the wars you’ve caused because of religion, and all the people you tortured to make them convert.”
“I never did those things. Do you expect me to take the blame for what some radical individuals chose several centuries ago? And besides, atheism isn’t so blameless: you have very high rates of depression, suicide, drug use, and alcoholism. From atheist philosophers you got communism, which murdered millions in one century alone.”
“That isn’t true atheism. It’s a radical philosophy.”
“Likewise, those religious wars aren’t true religion. Those are also radical philosophies. In my ‘ancient book,’ as you call it, there is no justification for torturing non-believers. I would say we’ve done a lot of good over the years: our beautiful artwork, architecture, music, modern hospital system, and charitable organizations. What has atheism brought to the world?”
“We brought reason. We rely on science to guide our lives. If we find our theory is wrong, we don’t say ‘it’s a principle from God, so we can never change it.’ There is constant striving for improvement, to do better. We change, but religious people don’t.”
“So, you would change if you find a mistake?” Lucy asked.
“Of course!”
“Then explain how something came from nothing. Explain how non-existence became existence.”
Morris thought for a few moments, then he smiled. “In your own words: just because I can’t explain it, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.”
Lucy smiled too. “So you see? We’re really very similar. We both believe in things that can’t be entirely proven.” She reached under her collar and pulled out the puzzle piece, and held it up for Morris to see. “You have only part of the answers,” she said. “You have only a piece of the universe, a piece of the truth, a piece of the puzzle. We can’t decipher a whole puzzle from just one small piece. What is so difficult about admitting there is Something More than what we can see in our tiny corner of the universe?”
Morris looked bewildered, and Lucy privately wondered whether he was more confused at what she said about God, or about her strange puzzle piece necklace. They continued onward in silence for some time, until at last Morris spoke: “We’ve wasted enough time already. Maybe we should go to the police station.”
“No,” Lucy disagreed. “I doubt they’ll help us. You remember how Charlie reacted when we asked about Timmy.”
“I’ll help you, miss,” a tiny voice said.
Lucy glanced downward. It was a little girl, about eight years old.
“What do you want?” the girl asked.
“I’m looking for this missing child,” Lucy explained. She handed the picture to the girl. “Do you know where I could go to ask about this? Who’s in charge here?”
“The soldiers,” the girl replied. “And the Benefactors.”
“The Benefactors!” Lucy exclaimed. “Yes, of course I remember now. Surely they will be able to help me find Timmy. They can distribute the poster. Where are they?”
“Oh, no one knows where they are, miss,” the girl said.
“Do you have any idea?”
“No. No one does.”
“Well, how can I get this poster to them? I need them to give this picture to the Pangaeans, so they can find Timmy.”
“I don’t know.”
Lucy sighed angrily.
“Why are you upset, miss?” the girl asked. “Kids get taken away all the time.”
Lucy’s anger disappeared instantly. She stared at the little girl, confused. “What do you mean—they get taken all the time?”
“Lots of kids get taken,” the little girl said, shrugging. “They bring them from the Outsider. The boat comes across the water from the Outsider to Pangaea. Then the people take the kids off the boat to the big blue building.”
Morris rolled his eyes. “This is a waste of time,” he grumbled.
“Sh,” Lucy snapped at him. Privately, she agreed with him; the girl’s story sounded so ridiculous it was hardly worthwhile pursuing. But Lucy did not want to hurt the girl’s feelings. “And tell me,” Lucy continued calmly, “where is the blue building?”
“Over there,” the little girl said, pointing past Lucy’s shoulder.
Lucy looked. It was a large blue building, marked “Security Center” in large white letters.
“A waste of time, I’m telling you,” Morris sighed irritably.
The little girl scowled at him. “You calling me a liar?” she demanded.
“No, no,” Morris said quickly, “not at all. I just meant—”
But the little girl did not wait to hear his reply. She stuck her tongue out at him, and stomped away.
Lucy smacked his arm. “You idiot,” she snapped. “That girl was our only hope, and now she’s gone! Why can’t you just know when to shut up?”
“You don’t seriously believe that girl was helping us, do you?” Morris cried, rubbing his elbow. “I’ve heard more believable stories from people who were high as a kite.”
By now Lucy’s patience was wearing thin. They had come no closer to finding Timmy, and Morris was proving to be more of a dead weight than an ally. “If you’re just going to complain,” Lucy snapped, “then go home. I’ll keep looking for Timmy myself.”
“Oh, and you honestly think you can find Timmy in all of this? He could be in Timbuktu right now, for all we know. Man! My arm is killing me…”
He continued mumbling something to himself, but Lucy did not hear the rest of his sentence. She had already begun walking, without Morris, towards the Security Building. Maybe the little girl had just been making up a wild story, but Lucy knew better than to assume anything. If she could just ask the people at the Center some questions, maybe they would be able to help her find Timmy, or at least distribute his picture to the public. But when she tried to open the front door, it was locked fast. Lucy pressed her face to the window. She could see people working behind the front desk. “Excuse me!” Lucy called, tapping on the glass. “I just need to ask you some questions! Please let me inside!”
At first the people looked up at her, but then they quickly returned to facing their computer screens.
“It’s very important!” Lucy insisted. She held Timmy’s poster up to the glass. “It’s about a missing child! Please, you have to let me talk to you!”
The people did not even look up.
Lucy burst into tears. How could these people be so indifferent to a lost child? “You have no heart!” she cried. She banged her fists against the glass. “For God’s sake, help me! I need to find this little boy!”
A hand touched her shoulder, and Lucy spun around. It was Morris. “Lucy, please,” he pleaded, “let’s go home. These people aren’t going to help us, and we’re losing time. We need to find Timmy.”
“But he’s here! I know he is! You saw how Charlie reacted when he saw Timmy’s photo; he knew something, but didn’t want to tell us. And the only lead we have is to this building!”
“It’s not a lead, Lucy. It’s a crazy story that some little girl made up. Come on; let’s go.” He put his arm round her shoulder and guided her away from the door.
She knew Morris was wrong; Timmy was here, but it was no use arguing with him. As long as the Pangaeans refused to help, Lucy and Morris would never find Timmy in all this chaos.
“Wait,” she said suddenly, pulling away from Morris. Her attention had focused on a parked truck, just outside the
Security Center. “That truck.”
“What about it?”
“Maybe it has some evidence inside. I’m going to have a look.” She started towards it, but Morris caught her hand.
“Are you crazy?” he cried. “If these people really are taking kids somewhere, it’s too dangerous for us to follow. We should call for help first.”
“And who will believe us, Morris? Everyone is either part of Pangaea or in love with it. No. I’m going after those people.” Before Morris could stop her, she had clambered into the back of the truck.
“Lucy, wait!” Morris called. He ran towards the back of the truck. The back was filled with large plastic coolers. Already Lucy was trying to open them, but with no success.
“They’re locked,” she grumbled. “Maybe I could find something to open them with…”
“Lucy, for goodness’ sake! Get out of there before someone sees you!”
“No one’s going to see me, Morris. Go wait in that alley for me, behind that dumpster. I’ll be out of here in less than a minute. I just need to see what’s in these coolers.”
“But—”
“Go!” Lucy insisted.
Morris did not protest further. He hid behind the dumpster and waited.
Lucy continued to rummage through the truck for something to pry open the boxes, but she found nothing. Whoever heard of a locked cooler, anyway? she thought. I didn’t even know you could lock a cooler. It must be some kind of new custom design.
The floor began to rumble, and Lucy was suddenly thrown against the back wall as the truck lurched forward.
They were moving.
~
As the truck thumped along down the road, Lucy rolled back and forth across the floor. She glanced at her watch. A full hour had passed since they left the security building, and the truck showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Where could they possibly be taking these boxes? How do I even know they’re taking them to the place where they’ve taken all the children? And how do I even know if the girl told me the truth about the lost children…So many questions unanswered. Such a tremendous risk to her life—and all based on one child’s claim. Hopefully my effort pays off, and I at least bring Timmy home.
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