by John Corwin
William and Stephan turned back toward the pasture. I held up a hand to stop them. "We should run inside and eat first. Otherwise, they'll probably just give us another assignment."
William folded his arms across his chest. "If we don't tell her we're done, we'll probably get punished."
I shook my head. "They weren't paying attention to us. We finished at least fifteen minutes faster than it should have taken us. That gives us time to eat."
Stephan counted on his fingers. "I'm so hungry, I could eat these dead sheep."
"We'll probably end up eating them anyway," I said. "Most likely the ram."
Stephan made a face.
Not wanting to waste another minute, I left the slaughterhouse. The other boys followed close behind. We quickly cleaned off the blood and took off our shoes. We got our food just as Oadby was preparing to put it away.
"One more minute, and no stew," he said in his strange accent. "You get here just in time." He served us each a bowl of something resembling pig slop.
The three of us sat down and wolfed down the thick concoction. I saw Ambria sitting in our usual spot and waved at her. She looked at me with a confused expression then smiled and waved back. I imagined she was wondering why I'd sat next to William and Stephan.
As I waited for William to finish eating, I looked around the dining hall and counted the other children. There were seventeen of us in all, including me. The last was a little boy I hadn't seen before. He looked about four years old, which probably meant he was the youngest of all the children here.
I pressed a hand against the lump in my pocket. I desperately wished to pull out the phone and inspect it, but the others would wonder where I'd gotten it. I thought about taking it up and hiding it in my room, but time was short. We needed to return to the field and tell the Goodleighs we were done.
William finally choked down his last mouthful and we took our bowls to the sink. After donning our shoes, we walked outside and down the road to the pasture.
"How was your last visit to the doctor?" I asked William.
His head flicked my way. "What do you care?"
I gave him a steady look. "I don't."
"It was good. The Goodleighs were happy." He puffed his chest. "Guess that means I'll be getting a permanent family soon."
Not the kind you want. "What about you, Stephan?" The other boy was a year or so younger than us.
"Mrs. Goodleigh said my results looked promising." He grinned. "I hope that means I'll get a family too."
"I heard you were a huge disappointment." William sneered at me. "Guess you'll be living here 'til you die."
Likelier, I'd be given away as a servant if the documents on the Goodleighs' tablet were to be believed. This orphanage was the center of sinister activities. Thankfully, I would probably be doled out to another foster family soon. Once outside these walls, I would escape and take my chances with the real world.
What about Ambria?
I imagined her smiling face and realized it would be unconscionable of me to abandon her to such an awful fate. But how could I, a puny boy, hope to rescue her when Brickle's hounds patrolled the grounds at night? The Goodleighs would quickly hunt us down if we attempted a jailbreak in the middle of the day. What about the other children? Surely even William didn't deserve life as a slave.
I had to recognize my limitations. Escaping from this place alone would be a monumental task. Saving even one person would be the hardest thing I'd ever done and double the chances of being caught. I felt a little pain in my chest when I thought of leaving Ambria behind. I thought of the way she made me feel warm as Cora had. She is my only friend in the world.
The added risk of saving her was worth it. With her, I wouldn't be so alone in the outside world.
I looked up and saw we were nearly to the pasture. The Goodleighs and Brickle stood near the middle of the field. The dogs sniffed around the grove of trees. Heart in my throat, I looked toward the trees near the pasture wall where I'd buried the man. Though his makeshift grave was partially hidden by the tree, it looked undisturbed. Burying the bull guts had thrown the hounds off the scent.
We reached the Goodleighs and informed them we'd finished.
Mrs. Goodleigh gave us a disapproving look. "Took you long enough."
I replied with the only thing she wanted to hear. "I'm sorry, Mother."
She sniffed. "Well, don't just stand there. Help Brickle inspect the grounds."
We did as commanded and spent most of the afternoon scouring the field and the nearby roads. When evening came, we'd found no other trace of the man.
Brickle held his baying hounds by thick leather leashes as they lunged at us, their large noses sniffing the air. A scowl covered his face. "I know someone was here."
"Well, they're gone now." Mr. Goodleigh gave his wife a knowing look.
He suspects someone—an outsider. Their nefarious dealings probably attracted competitors. I couldn't imagine the sorts of lowlifes the Goodleighs knew. It was vital I quickly plan and execute my escape before someone else continued what the dead man had failed.
For all I knew, he was the first of many who wanted me dead.
Chapter 8
Brickle decided to butcher the dead sheep the next day, so William, Stephan, and I put the corpses in the slaughterhouse refrigerator then went inside and cleaned ourselves for supper. The minute I got into my room, I shut the door and pulled out the smartphone. It was small, thin, and sleek. A logo with a partially peeled orange decorated the back. I couldn't find a button to activate the screen and flicking my finger across it did nothing.
"Turn on, you stupid phone."
The screen flickered on.
I almost dropped it out of surprise. The phone looked similar to ones I'd seen former foster parents use. This one even had a picture of two older people as the background, each wearing a robe similar to the one the crazy man wore. A young boy stood between them. The boy looked like a younger version of the man who'd attacked me.
An icon in the shape of a winged horse glowed a little brighter than the others. I touched the icon and a list of messages appeared.
The first email was from a Shelly Darwin.
Levi, you told me you'd given up this mad quest of yours. Please don't do anything foolish.
xoxo
Shelly
"Who is Shelly?" I wondered aloud.
"Shelly is Levi Baker's friend," the phone replied in a monotone voice.
I dropped the phone on the bed and leapt up as if it were a snake. "You can speak?"
"This device understands verbal commands."
I dropped back on the bed and picked it up. This is marvelous! I posed it another question. "Does Levi have other family?"
"Levi has no living relatives."
"Where does Levi live?"
"He lives in Queens Gate at one twenty-five Concord Avenue."
I'd never heard of this town. "Where is Queens Gate?"
The phone's screen shimmered and abruptly projected a three-dimensional image of a map above it. The map traced a route from Little Angels Orphanage all the way to London. From there, the blue line corkscrewed downward into what appeared to be a large underground cavern.
"Phone, how do I rotate this image?"
"To rotate a holographic image, the user may instruct the phone to do it or simply use his fingers by swiping across the image. To zoom the image, the user may pinch his fingers together and spread them, or move his hands together or apart. An in-depth tutorial is available." The phone went silent.
I tested the instructions and found it easy to manipulate the map. It was so intuitive, I stumbled across a way to view the map from a first-person perspective. Using this method, I discovered the entrance to Queens Gate was beneath an apartment complex just across the road from Hyde Park, and not far from Buckingham Palace itself. A winding ramp went nearly half a mile below ground and ended in a massive cavern.
The view there became even more bizarre. There was a giant b
lack arch looming in the middle of the cave. Less strange was the parking lot, but a stable promptly undid the normalcy right away. Why is there a stable in the middle of a parking lot? The route line went to a pair of large wooden doors in the cave wall. Queens Gate was apparently on the other side.
My stomach growled loudly and reminded me I hadn't yet eaten supper. "Phone, deactivate the display."
It went dark.
I tucked the phone back into my pocket and went downstairs to eat. As I choked down a pile of tough ground beef, I began to think about other uses for the advanced bit of technology I'd inherited. I wondered if it could copy the contents of the tablet in the Goodleigh's office. If so, I could gather enough evidence for the police to put the pair in jail for a very long time. I finished my meal and realized someone was conspicuously absent—Ambria. The Goodleighs' chairs at the front table were empty. They must be talking to Ambria.
I took my plate to the sink and left the dining hall. Tiptoeing, I made my way to the common room and peeked around the corner. The Goodleighs' office door hung open. I heard muted conversation and moved closer so I could hear.
"…is very good news, wouldn't you say, dear?"
"Yes, Mother," Ambria replied.
"They'll be by to collect you in two days," Mr. Goodleigh said. "We're very proud of you."
"You are a rare jewel," Mrs. Goodleigh added in an effusive voice. "Now, go eat. We'll be along shortly."
I ducked into an alcove between two wooden support columns running up the wall. Ambria walked past, her face lit with excitement. A moment later, the Goodleighs began to speak again.
"He didn't even want to wait for the auction," Mr. Goodleigh said. "I still can't believe he paid quintuple the starting price."
"A fourteen is rare, even among the children we procure." Mrs. Goodleigh sighed with contentment. "This is the largest payday we've seen by far."
"If only Conrad would blossom like Ambria." Disappointment deadened Mr. Goodleigh's excitement. "That boy should have been our retirement."
"There's something more to his condition than simple immaturity," Mrs. Goodleigh said. "Anyone with his genes should have at least an inkling of ability."
"Rufus would have discovered it."
She sighed. "I believe you're right. He makes too large a percentage of our profits to hide anything."
"I feel like celebrating," Mr. Goodleigh said. "Let's have dinner in London after the sale."
"That would be lovely. I'm so tired of these dreadful nuisances." Mrs. Goodleigh groaned. "I suppose we should foist Conrad on another couple in the meantime. I don't enjoy having the murderous little wretch in the same house."
"I've already located a suitable pair, but it will be at least a week before they come in."
There was a click and the sound of their voices muted once again. I looked from the alcove and saw they'd closed the door. The wood shouldn't have been enough to mask their voices, but no matter how hard I listened, their voices remained muffled and unintelligible.
I decided to leave before someone else came through here and went back upstairs to my room.
I sat on my bed and thought about all the Goodleighs had said. Murderous wretch?
Were they talking about the deaths of my foster parents? I'd had nothing to do with their accidents, though it was easy to see why the Goodleighs and anyone else might think otherwise. Before my awakening, I wouldn't have considered the extreme odds of having so much misfortune preying on those around me. It meant someone was committing these foul acts for a reason. It was also no coincidence they occurred around the same time as my birthday. Unfortunately, I had far too little data to reach any sort of conclusion.
Secondly, why should I have provided the Goodleighs with the financial security to retire? They fully expected me to be sold at one of their auctions for an enormous sum. Because I hadn't lived up to expectations, my value had dwindled.
This train of thought took me across a great landscape of possibilities. For example, how did they procure their candidates? Did they scour childcare services for children with a certain potential and snatch them when they had the chance? Then again, how would they know the hidden potential unless they knew something of the child's parents?
The more I thought about that method, the more I realized how impractical it was. How could you directly observe the parents if they were already dead? Kidnapping a child would be far more practical since it would be easier to calculate their pedigree by studying the parents.
The Goodleighs had proven themselves capable of stooping to great lows for their own personal gain. Such tactics would yield a more reliable outcome. The missing variable, however, was what constituted an acceptable result. I didn't know what AP meant, but it seemed to be a primary measure of a child's worth.
I took out the phone. "Phone, are you capable of copying the contents of tablet devices?"
"This device can download data from another device. Would you like to see a tutorial?"
"Yes."
The phone projected a video showing how to initiate the process. I would have to activate the tablet's screen and then tell the phone to copy the contents. A pin password would be transmitted to the tablet. I would have to respond with the code before the tablet would allow its contents to be downloaded. This scenario was reliant on the tablet not having extra security enabled. It was possible I'd have to enter a password. Since the tablet screen had been on when I'd been in the office, I didn't know if it needed a password or not.
Another task remained—retrieving the carpet from the tree. According to the clock on the phone, I had another thirty minutes before Brickle unchained his hounds to guard the perimeter. I'd considered getting the carpet in the morning, but doing this mission under cover of darkness provided me a better chance of getting it inside.
I should do it now while I have time.
I tiptoed through the empty downstairs hallway, quiet aside from voices emanating from the dining hall where some staff were still finishing dinner. I opened the rear door and crept out beneath a starry sky.
A tall lamppost near the brown barn provided the only other light down the dirt road. A few stray grunts and oinks emanated from the direction of the pigpen. In the distance, the cows mooed. Keeping to the opposite side of the road from the lamp, I made my way through the darkness. Memory served me well and I found the closed gate to the sheep pasture without incident.
Once over the gate, I let the dim moonlight guide me in the direction of the trees at the center of the pasture. It took a moment to orient myself on the correct tree in the grove and I shimmied up to the nearest branches. I stopped in the lower branches to catch my breath and looked at the time on the phone. I'd used seventeen of my allotted thirty. Haste became a necessity if I was to make it back to the house on time.
I reached the rolled up carpet a moment later and tucked it under an arm. A chorus of bells announced the sheep moving away from my location. Time ticked past while I clambered down the tree. About twenty feet from the ground, my boot caught between two branches. I reflexively reached out with both hands to grab a branch, releasing the carpet. My fingers narrowly grabbed a small limb just in time to prevent twisting my ankle.
That was close.
Unfortunately, I had little time to catch my breath. Reaching back with the other hand, I gripped another branch and pulled myself upright, jerked my boot free from its trap. Within a couple of minutes, I reached the ground and looked for the carpet. It was nowhere to be seen.
I took out the phone and was going to use its screen as a flashlight but realized I could probably use its holographic capabilities to better effect. "Phone, illuminate this area."
A white sphere projected from the screen, casting the area in a dim light. A quick glance told me the carpet wasn't anywhere nearby. I looked up, thinking it might have draped across a lower branch. My breath caught in my throat when I finally spotted the rug drifting several feet off the ground near the base of another tree.
&nbs
p; "What in the world?" I might have stood in stunned silence for another few minutes had not my senses immediately prevailed. I had precious few minutes to reach the house. Unless I took a shortcut and climbed the pasture wall, there was no way I'd make it before Brickle released the hounds.
I walked to the carpet and looked to see if it might simply be stuck in a branch, but the other trees had no limbs this low. I jumped up and grabbed the carpet. My fingers seemed to adhere to the surface while my feet dangled inches off the ground.
Struggling to pull myself up was an exercise in futility. My arms didn't possess the strength and my legs couldn't assist. I wished the carpet had been a few feet lower. As if on command, the carpet drifted lower and my feet touched the ground.
I'd read of flying carpets and once seen an old movie with them. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought they might actually exist. I should be utterly shocked. Instead, a part of me accepted it as a simple matter of fact, as if I already knew such magical wonders existed.
I willed the carpet to drop even lower until it was even with my knees. The carpet negated the necessity for me to hoof it back to the house. Why walk when I could simply fly? I climbed onboard. Climb higher, I commanded it. The carpet rose slowly into the air. I would have shouted with glee if not for the need to keep silent. A tree branch slapped against my face. I toppled forward, but my feet seemed glued to the carpet.
More limbs hit me. In my excitement, I'd completely forgotten to steer clear of the trees. I willed the carpet to descend and then directed it forward out of the trees. Controlling it seemed as simple as looking where I wanted to go and wishing it to do so. I badly wished I could practice all night. What could be more fun than flying free without a worry in the world?
Unfortunately, the Goodleighs checked on us at random times, usually after we were asleep. I had to enter the house through the back door since all the windows on the second floor were nailed shut.
Flying by the light of the moon, I took the carpet high enough to clear the trees near the pasture wall. The wind in my ears was the only sound it made as it swiftly flew toward the destination. Brickle called to the baying hounds as he went to their cages. I was nearly out of time.