Six

by M. M. Vaughan

  Parker turned to Michael with a look of utter confusion. “Is this from the same address?”

  Michael grabbed the phone and ran through his e-mails. “No,” he muttered. “Different e-mail.”

  The boys went silent, both trying to figure out what was going on. In the front Brendan whistled quietly to himself, oblivious to the confusion happening behind him.

  “Okay. So first he e-mails us and tells us to meet him, and then he e-mails us to tell us not to. The guy really is nuts.”

  As Michael spoke, Parker’s face turned pale.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Michael.

  Parker didn’t answer. His mind was racing through the logic of the explanation he had come up with.

  “Parker?”

  Parker lifted his head slowly and stared at Michael for a moment. His voice was barely a whisper when he finally spoke.

  “We’ve been tricked.”

  “What?”

  Parker could barely breathe. “It’s a trick! It wasn’t Anteater who e-mailed us this morning—it was the people who took my dad!” He leaned forward, and the red digital clock on the dashboard caught his eye. Four minutes to eleven. “Brendan, we need to go!”

  Brendan threw his paper down in surprise.

  “Get out of here!”

  To his credit, Brendan didn’t say a word. He leaned over, turned the key, and spun the wheel around.

  “I don’t get it,” said Michael.

  “That’s how they knew I lived near here!” said Parker as the car zoomed across the lot. “Anybody could have checked the forum. Think about it!”

  Michael stared at Parker as he processed what Parker was saying. His eyes widened.

  “Ohhh.”

  “We need to get out of here, Brendan,” said Parker.

  “We’re going, we’re going,” said Brendan, pulling out left onto the main road. He accelerated away.

  He should have felt relieved as the red-bricked building of the Raw Meat Shack disappeared into the distance, but he felt nothing of the sort. His heart was pounding, and his mind was spinning with what-ifs.

  “They wouldn’t have let us get away a second time,” mumbled Parker. “They might have killed us.”

  “Parker!”

  Parker looked up and saw that Michael was turned in his seat, looking out the back window.

  “Somebody’s turning into the car lot. I don’t think it’s the car from yesterday,” said Michael.

  Parker spun around and peered out. He froze. Michael was right. It wasn’t the car from yesterday—even at a distance he could tell it was the wrong color. This car was silver. Parker felt his stomach somersault as he realized he recognized it. It was the same car that had followed them to the lake on Sunday.

  “They’ve parked,” said Michael. “They didn’t see us.”

  He turned back around and dropped into his seat.

  “Wow! That was close,” Michael said. He was laughing nervously. “You really think it wasn’t him?”

  Parker sat with his head in his hands. When he finally looked up, the expression on his face quickly wiped the smile from Michael’s.

  “E-mail him back. Tell him we’re not with Avecto. Don’t mention my dad’s name! Ask him what he can tell me about Solomon Gladstone. Tell him I need to find him.”

  “What if this is another trick?”

  “It’s not,” said Parker. Michael nodded in agreement. It wouldn’t make sense if it was.

  Michael started to tap away at his phone.

  “Sent,” he said, looking up.

  They waited a few minutes in silence as Brendan took them on a long route home, just to be sure they weren’t being followed.

  “Has he replied yet?” asked Parker.

  “No.”

  Another minute passed.

  “And now?”

  “No!”

  Parker drummed his fingers on the armrest.

  “Now?”

  “No!”

  Beep.

  “I mean yes.”

  Parker leaned over and grabbed the phone.

  “What did he say?” Michael asked.

  Parker sighed deeply and read out the message. “  ‘Leave me alone.’  ”

  He let out a loud groan of frustration and turned back to the phone. He started typing.

  “What are you writing?” asked Michael. Parker didn’t respond until he’d finished the e-mail. He held it up for Michael to read.

  “  ‘Please. My dad has been taken to SIX. Before he was taken, he told me to find Solomon Gladstone. I need your help.’  ”

  “I thought you weren’t going to mention your dad?”

  “What choice do I have, Michael? He’s the only person who might be able to help me.”

  Michael shrugged, and Parker turned the phone back to face him. He clicked send. They spent the rest of the journey back to Michael’s house staring at the phone in silence, Parker’s thoughts broken only briefly to update Emma via Effie.

  “Did he answer yet?” signed Emma as they climbed up into the tree house. Neither Parker nor Michael responded, but the answer was written clearly on their faces.

  The three of them flopped down on the sofa and turned the television on. There was nothing more to do but wait.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Anteater replied at twelve twenty-eight. Parker knew the precise time because he was staring at Michael’s phone the exact moment it arrived. It was no coincidence—he had done nothing but stare at it since they’d got back to the tree house.

  Emma, though she didn’t hear the alert, didn’t miss its arrival either, as both Michael and Parker leapt up off the sofa at the same time.

  “What does it say?” asked Michael.

  Parker switched on Effie so Emma could hear too. He read the e-mail to himself first, and Emma, who was listening in, heard it also. They both looked at each other in surprise, and their faces broke out into wide grins.

  “Tell me what it says!” said Michael.

  “Okay, okay. He says . . . ‘This changes things. My dad was taken too. I will only talk face-to-face. Guessing you live somewhere around Avecto HQ. If so, I am at the Molten Comic Convention in Syracuse today and tomorrow. Let me know.’  ”

  Parker rushed to press reply and, in his haste, dropped the phone.

  Calm down! said Emma.

  You calm down! said Parker as he picked the phone up off the floor.

  That doesn’t make any sense, grumbled Emma. Parker looked up and glared at her, then went back to typing the e-mail. He said nothing until he finished typing, and then he looked up at Michael.

  “I’m going to Syracuse,” said Parker. “Can I borrow some money?”

  * * * * * *

  Emma had always insisted that it was possible to find the silver lining of any cloud—no matter how dark or ominous. Disasters raised awareness, injustices inspired collective action, deaths carried lessons that might save others, and also, as had happened with their family, made people stronger and closer than they might ever have been. The silver lining was not always easy to find for Parker, but in the case of the last few days it was clear as anything: Michael’s friendship and Brendan’s help.

  He was grateful for everything that they had done already, but even more so when they both insisted they would not allow Parker to travel to Syracuse on his own. Somehow or other, Parker hoped he would have found a way to overcome every hurdle that had been put in his way since his father’s disappearance, but there was no denying that having their help had made things considerably easier.

  At last, thought Parker as he climbed into the car behind Michael and Emma, they were making progress. In less than two hours—Brendan’s estimation—they would be in Syracuse and finally—finally—they would be able to get some answers. Anteater had given them precise instructions for when they got there. Until then there was nothing more he could do. He settled back in his seat and closed his eyes. He slept the whole way.

  * * * * * *
>
  Parker had heard about comic conventions, and walked into the center expecting to find crowds of people dressed up as characters from sci-fi shows and comic books. He was not disappointed. Apart from the four of them, every single person in the ticket line was wearing a costume. Suddenly feeling very conspicuous for their lack of effort, Parker took the ticket that Brendan handed him and followed a group of three squealing teenage girls dressed as pink lizards into the main room. He led the way over to the side of the room, away from the steady stream of people entering, and looked around to get his bearings.

  “Wow!” said Michael as the four of them stood side by side and took in their surroundings.

  The vast space ahead of them was filled with hundreds of colorful stalls, around which swarmed crowds of equally colorful people moving in all directions. The noise of the place made it feel even more chaotic—the talking, shouting, loudspeaker announcements, and music pouring out of the different stalls each competed loudly for the attention of the people passing by.

  Parker looked up at the white ceiling high above him. It was covered in a grid of metal beams from which hung bright spotlights and strobes that swirled around so that the entire space looked as if it were being attacked by thousands of multicolored lasers. It seemed to stretch interminably.

  Emma nudged him and pointed to a full-size bright blue jet hanging from the roof in the distance. Parker nodded but didn’t say anything—he was too busy working out where they were supposed to be going. He ran his eyes along the orange-and-white numbered signs marking the beginning of each row until he found what he was looking for.

  “Let’s go,” he said, already walking.

  At Parker’s request, Brendan kept his distance in case he might unnerve Anteater. Brendan was not, however, going entirely unnoticed. As they made their way to the stall that Anteater had instructed them to go to, Brendan—in his suit and hat—was stopped a number of times by people wanting to compliment him on his likeness to Moldovan’s Driver—a character none of them had ever heard of. Brendan corrected them the first couple of times until he gave up and instead started thanking them as he passed.

  Parker pushed through the crowds until he reached the stall he was looking for: A46, a stall supplying costumes called Cloaks & Daggers. Parker made sure that Michael and Emma were behind him before he began to search the racks of shields, masks, swords, capes, and costumes for the disguises that Anteater had instructed them to wear. Not finding what he was looking for, he turned his attention to the hundreds of masks covering the back wall.

  A young man wearing a faded lime-green T-shirt and a gold cape approached them. “What can I get you?” he asked.

  Parker suddenly spotted them. He pointed up to the top row.

  “Three frog masks please. The ones with the red crowns.”

  The man looked behind him and nodded his approval.

  “Not sold one of those in a while. Fans of the Leapers, huh?”

  “Yes, sir,” answered Parker. He didn’t have a clue who the Leapers were.

  “Nice,” said the man as he reached up and pulled the masks down. “Not many people have heard of them.”

  He handed them over to Parker. Michael—who had agreed to lend Parker whatever money they needed until they got their father back—handed over the cash.

  “Need a bag?”

  “No, thanks,” said Parker. He waited until the man left them to talk to another customer before turning to Michael and Emma.

  “Put them on,” he said.

  Michael was examining the large rubber mask. “Seriously, couldn’t he have picked something cooler?”

  “I like them,” signed Emma. She gave a thumbs-up to Michael and then placed her mask over her head.

  Parker shrugged. “I’d have worn a pink dress if it got my dad back.”

  “And I’d be waiting for you outside,” said Michael. He sighed and put his mask on.

  Parker took the phone out of his pocket—Michael had grown bored of passing it over every five minutes—and e-mailed Anteater to ask him what they should do next. The response was almost instantaneous.

  “Hall Two. Second row from the back, other end from the doors,” said Parker. He looked around.

  Emma pulled his sleeve and pointed to a sign.

  “Well spotted,” said Parker. He checked behind him to make sure that Brendan knew they were leaving, and then stepped into the sea of people moving in the same direction.

  They barely took ten paces before they came to a standstill. Parker tried to push through.

  “Hey, kid, don’t cut the line!” said a man in front of him. He was dressed—and painted—entirely in red.

  “We’re in a line? What for?” asked Parker.

  “Trailer screening for Return of the Amber Dawn Collective. Hall Two.”

  Parker groaned. “Will it take long to get in?”

  “Who knows? You just got to learn to love lines at these places.” He wiped his sweaty forehead with the palm of his hand before remembering he had on a face full of makeup.

  “Argh!” he cried, and turned to the purple woman next to him. “I told you I should have come as a gladiator.”

  The woman gave the man a sideways glance. “Quit complaining, Brian. I’ve just about had it with your whining today.”

  Red Brian huffed and turned his back to Parker. He pulled out a mirror and a tube of red face paint from his plastic carrier bag and began to carefully retouch his makeup.

  Parker rolled his eyes at Michael and Emma, then remembered they couldn’t see his face behind his mask.

  “You should send him a message—tell him we’re waiting to go in,” said Michael.

  “Good idea,” said Parker. He took the cell phone out.

  Michael grabbed Parker’s arm. “Forget it,” said Michael. “They’re opening the doors.”

  No sooner had he spoken than the line swept forward in a rush of excitement, taking Parker, Michael, and Emma with it. As they neared the entrance of Hall 2, the crowds started to move faster, and Parker—to stop himself being from trampled on—was forced into a half run that he wasn’t able to stop until they were through the doors and the crowds began to disperse in a frenzied rush to grab seats.

  They hurried over to the second row from the back and took the seats by the aisle just in time. A few seconds later every seat had been taken and the doors were being closed, to the loud consternation of those who hadn’t made it.

  “I don’t think Brendan got in,” said Parker.

  “He saw us,” said Michael. “He’ll wait outside. I wonder if Anteater made it?”

  Parker shrugged and sat back in his seat. He tried not to make it too obvious as he cast his eyes around him and tried to spot Anteater. He could see Michael and Emma were doing the same. They all seemed to settle on the man in front of them for two reasons: he was sitting by himself, and he was wearing a set of green alien ears and a hat made of tinfoil. It was, thought Parker, exactly how he had imagined a member of Cassandra’s Army would dress.

  Michael nudged him. “Shall we say something?” he whispered.

  Parker shrugged again just as the lights in the hall dimmed and a loud, thumping song started blaring through the surrounding loudspeakers.

  “Keep looking straight ahead,” whispered a woman’s voice directly behind Parker. “Which one of you is Parker?”

  Michael and Parker froze. Emma stayed staring intently at the man in front of them.

  “Do you know Anteater?” whispered Parker.

  “I am Anteater, numskull. And don’t say my name out loud.”

  “Oh. Ohhhh,” said Parker as he realized that Anteater had never actually said whether she was a man or a woman. “Sorry.”

  “Are you Parker?”

  Parker nodded. “Yes.”

  “Keep your voice down! You didn’t tell me you were kids.”

  Parker wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He said nothing.

  “Were you followed?”

  Parker kept hi
s eyes to the front. “No,” he replied. “We checked.”

  “Okay, good. I can’t take any risks. . . . Hey! Turn around, kid!”

  Parker had been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed that Emma was now facing the other way with a strange look of delighted shock on her face. He quickly unmuted Effie—having completely forgotten to do so earlier—but not before Emma had signed, “I love it!” in Anteater’s direction.

  Parker leaned over and grabbed Emma by the shoulder to spin her back around.

  That’s Anteater! It’s a girl! said Parker.

  Emma was looking straight ahead as she replied. Oh! Wow. Sorry. She’s dressed as Dissenta! How cool is that? Dissenta—Warrior of Justice—was, unsurprisingly, Emma’s favorite superhero. Emma had had three Dissenta-themed birthday parties in a row before their dad had finally insisted on a new theme the previous year.

  “This isn’t a joke,” said Anteater. “I’ll leave right now if you don’t do what I tell you again.”

  “My sister’s deaf,” explained Parker. “She didn’t know it was you.”

  There was a slight pause. “Right, well, I didn’t know that. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “When did your dad get taken?”

  “Monday morning. We need to find Solomon Gladstone.”

  “I can’t help you with that. He disappeared three years ago.”

  Shocked, Parker snapped his head around and found himself face-to-face with a woman hidden under a green hood that obscured all but her mouth and the gold eye mask that she was wearing.

  “But we came all the way here!”

  “Turn around!”

  Parker jumped back around. He was furious. “You said you could help us.”

  “I heard rumors. They say he was locked up in an asylum when he started objecting to the work they were doing. I don’t know if that helps. What do you know about SIX?”

  “Nothing. Just what you wrote.”

  “This might help.”

  Parker felt something being pushed into his shoulder. He reached up and took the object. It was only when he placed it on his lap that he was able to see what it was: a black memory stick.

  “It’s the best I can do,” whispered Anteater. “Let me know how it goes.”