by Richard Bard
When she didn’t respond, Strawberry touched her hand to her earpiece and said, “Ellie. Talk to me.”
I held my breath, and guessed the others were doing the same. Everything we’d done had been for Ellie. And now she—
“I’m here,” Ellie’s breathless voice chimed in my earbud. “I’m two blocks away pedaling as fast as I can. Tell Jazz I love her!”
I tried to smile, but then I spotted the woman kidnapper and one of her guards at the far side of the crowd. In the chaos, they’d slipped from the alley. The woman was speaking to Momma Magda, who’d checked us into the hostel and cooked us dinner. When the kindly old woman turned around and pointed straight up at me, every bit of oxygen seemed to vanish from the air.
Chapter 23
DEONDRE MUST HAVE SEEN Momma Magda pointing up at me, too, because he grabbed Jazz’s hand and hurried her through the crowd toward the hostel entrance. Strawberry was right on their heels. One of the local cops yelled after them, but his hands were too full with the other rescued kids for him to do more than that.
The woman kidnapper watched it all, and I felt the heat of her glare all the way up on the third story. She couldn’t risk chasing after us while the rescued children who could identify her were so close at hand. Instead, she whispered to the guard beside her, and the two of them did an about-face and disappeared around the end of the block. The tech and other guards peeled from the crowd to follow them.
“They’ll be back,” Simon said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I flinched and nearly fell out of the window. He grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled me back.
I spun around and there he was, a smug look on his face despite the blood dripping from beneath the hand he had pressed against his ear. “Did you miss me?”
“Dude!” I used the slang word that had become part of my vocabulary thanks to Uncle Marshall. And Timmy. “W-what happened?”
“Got my earpiece shot off.” He pulled his hand from his ear. A half-moon chunk was missing from it. “And part of my ear went with it.”
There were pounding footsteps, and Deondre, Jazz, and Strawberry piled into the room. Strawberry’s face lit up and she threw her arms around Simon. “I thought you were—oh, never mind that. You’re a hero!”
“Uhh…”
She pulled back and looked at his bloody ear. “I’ll get something to bandage that up.” She pulled her backpack from the five bags lining the wall. Part of our plan meant getting out of here as soon as we rescued Jazz, so we’d packed our stuff.
Deondre smacked Simon on the shoulder. “What you did out there? It was savage. But we’ve gotta move.”
“He’s right,” I said. “They know we’re up here. We’re probably okay while the crowd’s outside, but after that we’ve got to be gone. I already called a taxi.” I looked at Jazz, and it was like I was looking at Ellie. “Hi, Jazz. I’m Alex.”
“And I’m Simon.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze took us all in. “All of you. Thank you so much. Where’s Ellie?”
“She should be here any sec—”
“Nooo!” Ellie’s scream echoed from both my earpiece and outside. There was a screech of tires, and we all leaped to the window.
She was pedaling up the side street as fast as she could, but she couldn’t outrun the small green sedan that swerved to cut her off before she reached the intersection in view of the crowd. She tried to dodge, but her front tire struck the car’s bumper and she flew head over heels over the bike.
“Nooo!” Jazz shouted, in a duplicate version of Ellie’s cry.
The front doors of the car swung open, and Garcia and Sánchez were on her before she could push to her feet. They must have confiscated the vehicle after I’d disabled their Mercedes. They yanked Ellie roughly from the pavement and dragged her toward the car. She twisted and kicked, freed an arm from Garcia’s grasp, and for a moment I thought she would get away. But the lieutenant whipped a punch across her jaw and she went limp. Sánchez picked her up, tossed her into the backseat, and slammed the door. Garcia jumped into the driver’s seat, closed the doors, made a U-turn, and sped away. Sánchez remained behind. As he looked up at our window, he drew his thumbnail across his throat.
“He’s going to kill her!” Jazz cried out.
“We’ve got to do something,” Strawberry said.
Deondre said, “We’ve got to get the hell out of here, is what we’ve got to do.”
Simon’s phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and read the text. “And we’ve only got a few seconds to clear out.” He darted to the row of packs and tossed mine over to me. “My artist friend says an angry woman and some men are in the lobby looking for us.”
“To the roof!” Deondre said, grabbing his pack in one hand and taking Jazz’s hand in the other. Strawberry was right behind them.
Simon waited while I fumbled to unzip my pack. “Come on, come on, come on,” he urged, bouncing from one foot to the other.
I shoved the Spider, tablet, and charger into my bag, and dashed out the door. Simon followed, locking the door behind us to buy a few precious seconds. There were shouts below, and heavy footfalls echoed from the lower stairwell. My mind raced as we scrambled up to the roof. We’d brainstormed a number of contingency plans throughout the day, and the rooftop escape was the riskiest of them all. But as the angry voices behind us grew closer, it was all we had left.
Strawberry held the rooftop exit door open for us, and as soon as we were through, she snapped it closed. Deondre was waiting with the straight-back wooden chair we’d brought up earlier. He wedged it under the door. It wouldn’t hold for long but that was the point.
The hostel’s rooftop patio and garden area was used on a daily basis by the guests. Starlight and a quarter moon barely illuminated the cozy space. There were three different sitting areas, interspersed with potted flowers. Several chairs surrounded an open hearth, where I could smell marijuana. We ran past it toward the utility shack. Deondre and Strawberry exchanged a quick look. Strawberry nodded, took Jazz’s hand from his, and led her away. Jazz’s eyes were glazed over, and I suspected she’d retreated into herself to cope with the shocking reversal of fate between her and Ellie.
Deondre moved toward the fire escape.
“Fast as you can,” Simon said.
“Don’t worry. They’ll never catch me.”
The rest of us piled into the rickety shack, which housed a scatter of garden tools and extra pots. It smelled of fertilizer. Simon used the light from his smartphone to illuminate the space. Strawberry and Jazz huddled in a corner, and tears moistened both of their faces. I couldn’t stop feeling like their pain was my fault, but I had to bury the thought in a drawer for now.
I held the slatted wood door open. “There’s a breeze but we should be okay. Get ready.” We’d hidden the last of the smoke bombs in the shed, just in case. Strawberry still had a couple of firebombs left in her pack, but the last thing we needed up here was another fire.
“Need a light,” Simon said, holding the bomb. Strawberry already had her lighter out. She struck up a flame and both of them waited for my signal.
“Remember,” I said, “toss it no further than the hearth.” For our ruse to work, we had to set the hook by using the bomb as if to cover our escape. The breeze would disperse the smoke, but not at first. So it was critical the bomb landed where it wouldn’t totally obscure the view between the exit door and where Deondre waited on the fire escape.
The door rattled.
Chapter 24
“NOW,” I WHISPERED. Strawberry lit the fuse, and Simon tossed the bomb into the center of the sitting area. Smoke spewed outward, the breeze carrying it to one side.
There was a loud thump against the stairwell exit. As I moved to close the shed door, I stole a glance at Deondre. He’d taken a couple of steps down the fire escape ladder, but his torso and head were still in plain view. His focus was dead set on the chair wedged under the exit door. A gust blew a stream of smoke between us, and he tran
sformed into a ghostly silhouette.
I pulled the door closed, and as I realized there was no way to lock it, a crash announced the stairwell exit had burst open. I crouched to watch through the space between the sagging wooden door and the jamb, and felt Simon’s breath on my neck as he strained to get a peek, his hand on my shoulder. Smoke swirled this way and that, but in between I caught sight of the woman, Sergeant Sánchez, and three guards spreading out, each holding pistols. One of the guards pointed toward the fire escape and shouted. “¡Por ahí! Escalera de incendios.”
“It’s working,” Simon whispered. We could hear the rattle of the fire escape as Deondre reached the third-floor platform and bounded down the staircase.
The woman and guards raced toward the ladder. Then a thick plume of smoke blocked the view completely, and my focus went to the pounding of my heart against my rib cage. Something dripped on my cheek, and when I wiped it away I realized it was blood from Simon’s tattered ear. I wiped my hand on my pants, listening intently as the rattles and rumbles from the fire escape doubled, probably because one or more of the guards was chasing Deondre. I allowed myself to hope…
But then the sounds from the fire escape suddenly ceased. Way too soon. Deondre couldn’t have made it to the bottom that fast, much less the men following him. The smoke cleared for a moment, and I saw the woman nod as she peered over the edge. When she tucked her pistol into the bag slung across her chest, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. She backed away from the ladder, and as the first of her guards climbed back over, a cloud of smoke engulfed them. I heard movement and voices but couldn’t see what was happening. Simon edged closer, and another drop of his blood rolled down my cheek. I ignored it, trying to see through the smoke. And that’s when I caught the flicker of starlight reflection on the cement floor outside the shed. A splatter of Simon’s blood. Then I saw a second splatter, and several more.
In a neat trail leading right up to our hiding place.
I didn’t have time to finish my gulp, because the smoke cleared and Deondre was back on the roof. A guard was gripping each arm, and a third stood behind him with a pistol pressed against his skull. Simon’s grip on my shoulder tightened.
“What’s happening?” Strawberry whispered.
“Shhh!” Simon said.
“Where are the others?” the woman asked.
Deondre jutted out his chin. “What others?”
The woman backhanded him across the jaw. Deondre grinned. “That all you got?”
She smacked him again, and this time his head snapped to one side. But when he straightened, he spat in her face.
“Insolent pissant.” The woman jammed her knee into his groin.
Deondre let out a pitiful groan. His body tried to double over, but the men held him upright and all he could do was slump in their grasp.
The woman grabbed his chin and turned his face toward her. “Last chance. Where are they?”
My emotions demanded I help, even as my brain told me there was nothing an eight-year-old kid could do. My body shook, and a bead of sweat dripped down my forehead. Before I realized it, my hand was reaching for the door handle.
Simon pulled me back. “We can’t help him,” he whispered. “And if we try, we expose Strawberry and Jazz.”
My body went rigid when the gunman brought his other hand around to double grip the pistol—
Time slowed…
There was a familiar vibration, as if electricity charged the air with static. The hairs on the back of my neck itched. A shadow launched itself over the catwalk. The gunman was flung from his feet to land facedown on the ground, his legs twitching, a huge knife with an ivory handle buried in his back. I glimpsed the face of the man who threw it.
“Dad?”
He swept through the kidnappers like a wraith on a rampage—snapping the neck of the guard to Deondre’s right, and spinning around to hit the second guard with an uppercut to the chin so hard that I heard the man’s teeth crack. The guard was flung backward, his grip yanking Deondre with him. The guard’s body crashed onto the deck and lay still, but Deondre hit the waist-high rail at the building’s edge, his arms cartwheeling in a frantic attempt to keep from teetering over the side. There was a blur of motion and Dad was pulling him back. Deondre’s knees buckled as Dad lowered him gently to the ground.
Then Dad collapsed to one knee himself, his chest heaving for air.
I shifted position to get a better look at the woman and Sánchez. They’d used the distraction to race toward the stairwell exit. She had a phone to her ear, and as she disappeared into the smoke, I heard her shout in Spanish, “Bring everyone. Now!”
That didn’t sound good, but right now I didn’t care.
My dad was here.
“You’re going to be all right, kid,” Dad said to Deondre. His voice washed over me like a cool breeze on a hot summer day. I reached for the door handle and this time Simon didn’t stop me—but the pounding of heavy footsteps did. A giant man burst from the shadows and rushed toward my Dad like a linebacker. Dad’s back was turned.
“Look out!” Deondre shouted, scrambling on all fours to get clear.
Dad spun around, but not fast enough. The man crouched low and blasted into him shoulder first with arms stretched wide. He lifted my dad from his feet and flung him over the edge.
I opened my mouth to scream but Simon’s hand clamped over it, and all that came out was a whimper. The big man’s head spun around, his eyes darting left and right. He must have heard me but a part of me didn’t care. The fire in my stomach was no longer fueled by fear but by rage. If I’d had a gun right then…
Deondre had vanished into the smoke, but the man still stood there. He tilted his head like a dog trying to figure something out, and even in the smoky darkness I could tell his eyes were tracking the trail of blood leading to our hiding place. He looked around as if making sure there were no other threats, and then lumbered toward us. Simon inched back into the shadows, but I couldn’t seem to budge. The man who had just murdered my father was headed straight toward me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Or was there?
It dawned on me I could still feel the vibrations from the mini that I know my dad had brought with him. I steeled myself. The man was four paces away when I closed my eyes, stretched out my senses, and reached for the mini’s energy. It was faint, not nearly the same as if I was holding it in my hand, but still enough that I felt its power. I drew it in, infusing it into the crevices of my brain until my scalp tingled.
When I snapped my eyes open, I peered through the crack in the door to see the murderer reaching for the handle. His ugly face was only two feet away.
My heart pounded, my muscles quivered, and my focus narrowed on his forehead.
I unleashed my rage into his mind.
The man flew backward.
He landed hard on his back and his face twisted in agony. But the release of the mini’s energy had come at a cost. It had taken my breath and my legs wobbled. As I toppled backward, I saw the man stumbling away with his hands pressed to his temples. Then my vision blurred, and I had a vague sense of Simon catching me.
“Alex!” he whispered. “You did it. He’s leaving.”
“Are you okay?” Strawberry asked.
I didn’t lose consciousness, and already felt my strength returning.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. My dad had come back from the dead, only to be ripped away from me again. The pain welled up in my stomach, and the first sob hitched my breath.
“Y-your head was glowing,” Jazz said. “What—how did—?”
Someone pounded on the door. Jazz gasped, Strawberry squeaked, and my heart tried to leap from my throat.
“We gotta move!” Deondre shouted from outside the door.
Simon sighed in relief. He helped me to my feet, and the two of us pushed through the door. My brain seemed to freeze up, as if it refused to believe what had just happened. Strawberry and Jazz brushed past me,
holding hands, while my mind barely acknowledged them.
“Some dude saved my life,” Deondre said breathlessly. “But then some big sucker knocked him right over the edge. I’m not sure what happened next, but the big—”
“We saw,” Simon said.
I walked toward the ledge. Heel to toe, one foot after another, thin streams of smoke drifting past me. I vaguely realized the fire on the rooftop across the street had been put out. But so what? Ellie had been taken.
And my dad is dead.
A screech of tires rose from the street and Simon ran over to investigate, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.
Heel to toe.
Heel to toe.
“She’s coming back!” Simon shouted. He was looking over the edge. “With a bunch more men. They’re headed for the lobby.”
Heel to toe.
“Back in the shed?” Strawberry asked.
“They’ll find us,” Jazz said.
Heel to toe.
“Onto the next roof,” Deondre said. “Follow the plan.”
At the ledge.
“Alex!” Simon’s voice sounded like it was a million miles away. He grabbed my arm. “Come on!”
I jerked loose. Held my breath. Leaned over the side…
…and saw the deeply dented roof of a car.
A jolt of adrenaline jump-started my brain.
“Dad?” I whispered, searching desperately through the thinning crowd. I couldn’t see him. “Daaad!” I shouted as loudly as I could. People turned and stared up at me, but none of them was my father.
A hand gripped my arm. “What’re you yelling about? We’ve. Gotta. Go!” Deondre said. This time I didn’t resist.
“Yes!” I said, my excitement growing. After all, my dad had miraculously survived a midair explosion hundreds of feet in the sky. This building was only three stories tall, and the impact had been cushioned by the car. He had to be alive.
My skin rippled when I heard footfalls in the stairwell. I turned and bolted alongside Deondre. After three steps, though, logic collided with my fear and I skidded to a halt. If Dad was nowhere to be seen, why could I still feel the vibrations from the alien artifact?