by Alton Gansky
She found a pair of wire cutters and for a moment thought she could cut the cable but the pliers-like tool seemed too small. She doubted she had the hand strength to pull it off. She needed something bigger. The search continued until she reached the bottom drawer and found a small pair of bolt cutters. They were twelve inches long and had padded handles. They were smaller than she expected but much larger than the wire cutters. They would do.
Judith closed the drawer and returned to the diesels.
“Time to ruin someone’s day.”
Luke would have been happy to hide in the salon head until help arrived, but he had Judith and the kids to think about. Hiding the satchel next to the toilet, Luke slipped from the bathroom, the emergency smoke markers in his pocket. The salon remained empty and he relaxed for a moment. Now to find Judith.
“Where is it?” A horribly familiar voice.
Luke turned to see Pennington, gun in hand.
“Lose something?”
“You’re about to lose your life.” Pennington took a step closer.
“You keep saying stuff like that. No wonder you don’t have friends.”
Pennington chuckled. “I’ve killed quite a few people, and every once in awhile I get someone like you who thinks he’s funny. Now where is it?”
Luke shrugged. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“The Coast Guard just put out a bulletin for all craft to look for a vessel in distress. It seems they’ve received a signal from an emergency beacon and the GPS signature puts it in our area. I had to tell them that it was a faulty unit.”
“And you feel bad for lying.”
“Not at all, but if I don’t silence the thing, we’ll be paid a visit from some folks I don’t want to see.” Pennington looked at the door to the head. “You stow it in there?”
Luke said nothing.
“Go get it.”
“No, thanks. Do your own retrieving.”
The yacht slowed and the subtle rumble of the engines quieted. Pennington looked puzzled.
“It’s hard to get a good superyacht these days.” Luke started across the salon.
“Don’t move.”
“Shoot me, pal. I’m beyond caring.” Luke strode to the open doors that led to the open deck. He put his hands in his pocket.
A bullet whizzed by his ear followed by the loud report of the gun.
Luke sprinted forward. Another shot.
Judith had made only three steps away from the engine room when the sound of a gunshot pressed its way down to the lower deck. She ran to the stairs, sick with apprehension. As she pushed through the next deck she passed a man in the same white uniform worn by the two who had held them at gunpoint. He ran toward the stairs.
She didn’t hesitate. To do so would put her within reach. No longer concerned about the noise she moved as quickly as she could, feet pounding the stairs.
“Come here!”
Judith ignored him but she did come to a stop the moment she cleared the steps and entered the salon.
Fire?
How the second shot had missed, Luke couldn’t be sure and he felt no compunction to give it much thought. He had other things on his mind. The first smoke signal device ignited on the first try and Luke threw it into the salon. Designed to produce thick, billowy orange smoke the device filled the space, engulfing Pennington. Luke drew another from his pocket, set it off, and tossed it into the dinghy. An orange plume crawled through the air. A quick look told Luke that several ships and sports craft were in sight and if he could see them, they could see smoke.
“Hey!”
Luke spun and saw a uniformed man on the deck of the bridge. He was running to a chrome ladder that spanned the main deck from the upper deck and bridge. Luke removed the third smoke signal stick, struck it, and tossed it at the man, not to hit him, but to give him another problem to deal with.
Coughing to his left made Luke snap around. Pennington ran through the opening and into the clean air. He still held the gun but had yet to spy Luke.
Luke charged.
The man behind Judith emerged, seized her arm, then froze as he saw the orange smoke. “What?”
Judith pulled free, turned, and shoved as hard as she could. The sailor backpeddled two steps and fell back down the circular stairs. She ran through the smoke toward the sunlight and arrived in time to see Luke run by, shoulders lowered. She heard the impact before her mind could process what she saw.
There was a thud, an “oof,” and another thud.
The smoke stung Judith’s eyes and she wiped at them, trying to clear her vision. Eyes still blurry, she could see Luke drive Pennington into the side rail. The man doubled over but for less than a second. He straightened and in the same motion brought a hard backhand across the side of Luke’s head. Luke’s legs looked like rubber but he remained on his feet.
Pennington’s gun came up and leveled at Luke’s head.
“No!”
A thunderous thumping pounded from overhead. Pennington looked up. Judith started to follow his gaze but instead kept it on Luke, who delivered one punch, a punch with every ounce of his weight in it, a punch that struck Pennington on the chin.
Something snapped in Luke’s hand, a knuckle, a finger, something impossible to identify because of the fire that raged up his wrist and arm. Even his shoulder hurt. The pain vanished for a moment as he saw Pennington’s eyes glaze and his knees buckle. He folded to the deck.
“Ow, ow, I broke something … Look out!”
Luke was clutching his wrist when he shouted a warning and pushed her to the side.
The loud pop made Judith duck and cover but she still saw Luke stagger, clutch his stomach, and fall facedown. Blood oozed from him and stained the teak deck.
“Luke! Luke.” She ran to him. Knelt by him.
“Back up, lady.”
Judith didn’t. She struggled to roll him on his back. He coughed. He moaned. She pulled at his shirt.
“I said, back away, lady, or you’ll get the same thing.”
Judith refused to move. Luke’s eyes closed. Waves of sorrow rolled from her.
The thunder continued, louder and louder. The gunman swore.
“Great Divide, this is the U.S. Coast Guard. Lower your gun.”
Judith looked up and saw the white-and-orange Coast Guard helicopter overhead. A motion off the stern also caught her attention. A Coast Guard cutter was bearing down on them. “If you’re going to shoot me, you had better do it now. I think your time just ran out.”
The gunman’s eyes grew cold and he started to raise his weapon.
“And what about the kids,” she added. “You going to kill them? Are you going to be the one who goes down in history as killing two adults and thirteen children?”
“I’m a citizen of Singapore. Your laws don’t apply to me.”
“Wanna bet?”
Three other men appeared on the deck. One surveyed the situation and stepped to the gunman. “Don’t make things worse.” He took the gun.
Judith looked at Luke, bent, buried her face in his chest, and wept.
The darkness around Luke seemed warm. He could hear thunder in the sky and people talking but none of it made sense. He also felt something touch his chest and heard sobbing. Why, he wondered, was Judith so sad? His pain had disappeared.
The darkness got darker.
He was dreaming again. He seldom repeated dreams but the one from last night had returned. He lay on the ground, wounded, and the children stood around him. The dream was blurry this time and filled with noise.
He saw Abel.
Abel smiled.
Luke rose into the air.
The few miles’ trip back on the Coast Guard boat was the longest Judith had ever taken.
What followed were endless questions from the Coast Guard, police, FBI, and others. She answered the best she could, but worry over Luke’s life, the stress of two days of fear and mystery, a beating, and more had fogged her mind. She did the best she co
uld, telling what she knew and revealing what she didn’t. By late evening, with Jim Gaines there to help, she had answered every question, including those asked by San Diego homicide detectives who had driven up to press her for answers.
No charges were brought but every agency said there would be more questions. She didn’t doubt it. The hands of the clock moved past midnight before she made it to the hospital, her swollen face making her look more like patient than visitor. Judith learned that Luke was in surgery.
She waited, Gaines and Terri by her side. Terri had driven in with Gaines and tolerated hours of waiting while Judith endured a seemingly endless interrogation. At the hospital, Judith passed the time listening to Terri tell of all that happened at Find, Inc.
At 2:00 a.m., Judith, against her wishes, fell asleep in her chair.
At 4:00 a.m., she received word that Luke would live but that he had some long days ahead. Judith determined she would make those days as easy as possible.
Then her mind turned to the children.
epilogue
One year later
Luke sat at a picnic table playing chess with Abel. He held his head low, shifted in his seat, then scratched his head. Abel must be winning again. Judith stepped from the refurbished dining hall with a pitcher of lemonade in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other.
The month of May brought an early summer to Ridgeline. Although not nearly as warm as the air in Ontario, it was still warm enough to justify the lemonade. She walked slowly down the stairs and across the finely manicured grounds. Even though he had his back turned to her, she could see how much he had improved over the last twelve months. The weight he lost from his injury and subsequent surgeries had finally returned. She had thought him thin the first time they met, but he had grown skeletal after his injuries.
The battle had been a long one for him. The bullet had struck him in the abdomen and exited his back. By the grace of God it had missed spine and aorta, but it had done enough damage. Twice, she had been told, his heart stopped. Twice he had been revived. Even a year later, one of Judith’s saddest memories was watching him rise from the deck on a metal stretcher and be swallowed by the Coast Guard helicopter.
It had taken three months to make the formerly Manna Creek Christian Camp livable again, and another nine months to expand it with better housing for the children and caretakers as well as a top-of-the-line security system. Pennington and some of his crew had been taken out of the picture, but the people who hired him still slept snug in their beds, no doubt dreaming of new ways to get what they wanted.
As Judith set the lemonade down on the picnic table, Luke said, “Don’t ask.”
“I don’t need to. Abel always wins.”
She looked around the camp and felt a sense of achievement greater than anything she had felt before. Some of the children played ball in the field; others played by the creek; still others read in the shade of trees. It was Saturday and they were free to do what children do. Judith could also see several caregivers watching the children; several other men and women moved along the tree line across the field and moved through other areas of the camp. They were the private security hired to keep the next Pennington at bay.
After the incident on the yacht, authorities took the children into protective custody, then farmed them out to foster parents — a situation Judith considered intolerable. She put Gaines to work, who with the aid of a hand-chosen legal team, began to plead the children’s case — all but one now orphans.
Legal matters were still pending, but they had achieved their goals. The idea came from a slowly recovering Luke. “They’re special kids, Judith. They need a special place to grow up and we’re in a position to make that happen.”
The sight of it all was as beautiful as it was costly. Luke and Judith poured much of their personal wealth into the camp’s renovation and the hiring of the best teachers.
The sound of an approaching vehicle caused Judith to turn. A limo, long and white, rolled slowly along the small parking lot. A Jeep Cherokee with the words SECURITY painted on the doors escorted the limo. Judith had been expecting it. Security had called a few minutes before.
The limo stopped and the driver exited, stepped to the back door, and opened it. Slowly, an elderly woman wearing an ankle-length white dress exited. She paused to gain her balance then straightened. Standing by the open door, the woman gazed around the camp and smiled. Then, with the help of a cane in one hand and the support of her driver, she walked toward the picnic table.
Judith glanced around the camp and could see that the other security personnel had noticed the arrival. Judith then looked at Abel and raised an eyebrow.
“Mostly truth. New truth. Lot’s of old evil.”
Judith had come to understand the strange speech. Abel and the other children could see what others could not, the nature of the soul — more accurately, the intent of the soul. Abel had just told Judith that the woman had done evil things in her life but had changed. He and the other children distinguished between the “truth” and “The Truth.” The former referred to their intent, the latter to the giver of truth, Jesus — the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
Abel had become Judith’s and Luke’s teacher in many ways. Judith had never realized how often Jesus used the word “truth” in His ministry. He claimed to be the Truth, prayed His disciples would be sanctified in the truth, promised the spirit of truth, and scores of other references. Abel had also taught them that truth was not relative or subjective. Truth came from the Truth. Abel didn’t use those terms, but he got the idea across.
After almost a year with the children, Judith still had many questions and sought answers diligently, but despite their great wisdom and insight into human nature, the kids were still kids, unable to explain everything they experienced. To top that, they seemed to be changing in subtle ways. Judith doubted she had seen the end of their remarkable nature.
“Checkmate,” Abel said.
“What?” Luke studied the board. “I just wanted you to feel good about yourself.”
“Yeah. Right. Sure. Whatever you say.” Abel giggled.
“Don’t you ever lose?” Luke asked.
“Sure. Eva beat me yesterday.”
Luke frowned. “Eva is two years younger than you. Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better. Go play.”
“I’m going to go help Mom. She’s baking cookies.”
Abel disappeared into the dining hall. Ida would love the help. She lived at the camp, working as one of the cooks, a job she seemed to be enjoying.
“May I sit?” The elderly woman stood by the picnic table.
“Yes, please,” Judith replied. “Would you like a chair?”
“The bench will be fine. I won’t be long.” The driver helped the woman lower herself. She dismissed him with a wave and he returned to the limo, taking his seat behind the wheel.
The woman looked vaguely familiar but Judith couldn’t place her. Luke, however, looked stunned.
“Thank you for seeing me,” the woman said, her voice worn by years of life. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more warning.”
“You told security at the gate that you had information about Abel.” Judith sat and poured three glasses of lemonade. One she placed in front of the woman who took a courtesy sip and set it down.
“Dr. Corvino?” Luke whispered the question. “Diane Corvino?”
Judith stiffened. Luke was right. So many years had passed and the woman had aged so much that she didn’t recognize her. When Judith had last seen the woman, the scientist’s hair had been chestnut brown, her skin smooth, her blue eyes bright. The woman on the bench looked nothing like that now.
“Yes, Luke. I’m Dr. Corvino.”
“Wait.” Judith turned to Luke. “You know her?”
He nodded. “Many years ago. When I was a graduate student.”
Corvino’s smile was window dressing. “Am I to assume that you have not exchanged your secrets?”
Judith’s mi
nd began to spin. Missing pieces of the story were swirling in her head like leaves in a tornado. “No. We no longer believe our past matters.”
Nodding, Corvino said, “It doesn’t, but knowledge of it might be helpful. You deserve the truth.” She chuckled then coughed hard. “Have you heard that word much lately? The word ‘truth,’ I mean.”
“All the children talk about seeing truth and evil.” Luke seemed edgy.
“I hadn’t expected that. Actually, I hadn’t expected much of what has happened. The problem with being told you’re smart, that you’re a pioneer, is you begin to believe it. That ruined me in many ways.”
“I don’t understand,” Judith admitted.
“I don’t have much time, so let me explain, then I will leave you to this Eden you’ve created.” She closed her eyes as if imagining events of decades before. “I imagine you’re starting to suspect that I am the one who set you off on your journey. I am the one who sent you the phones; the one who drafted you.”
“You?” Judith made no effort to hide her disbelief. “It was a man’s voice …” She caught herself. “The voice was electronic. I started thinking the Puppeteer was male and never challenged my assumption.”
“Puppeteer?” Corvino chuckled again. “I like that. Very creative. Yes, the voice was a fabrication, a simple electronic voice that can be bought on the Internet. The electronics were not that sophisticated and I hired a good computer genius to pull it all together.”
“And my cell phone ser vice being interrupted?” Judith pressed.
“Same computer genius. He’s a kid, really. He hacked the system. That’s what he called it, hacking. I paid a lot of money so he could hire someone within the cell phone firm to help him pull it off. That’s the thing about this world. There’s always someone who can be bought because of their greed or because of some great need. Money still makes things happen. I imagine it always will. I also hired a man to make sure the packages were delivered, including the one under the bench in the park.”