Man, am I dense.
I called Zander from Abe’s phone. He dropped what he was doing to spend the afternoon with me—even if it was shopping—and drove to Abe’s to pick me up. I grabbed some of the cash from my car, and we set out.
With the nanomites altering my appearance in small but significant ways, I was able to shop in the open. First, I got some clean duds. I chose yet another backpack, three sets of comfy tops and jeans, fresh underwear, socks, and a hoody. I paid for the clothes, tore the tags from some of them, and changed in the restroom. Dumped my filthy clothes in a trash can as I walked toward Zander.
“Good metaphor,” he remarked.
“Huh?”
“Like our old lives that are no better than filthy rags. God strips off the gunk, washes us clean, gives us a robe of right-standing before him, and drop-kicks the rags into the sea of forgetfulness.”
I shook my head. “Wow. Not merely a good metaphor. An amazing one.”
We stored my purchases in Zander’s trunk, then got on with the fun stuff: Christmas shopping.
I’ve never had a little boy, remember? And I guess I’m practical when it comes down to it. The first thing I wanted Emilio to have was a decent wardrobe. He had pitifully little to call his own and was growing so fast. It would stretch Abe’s fixed income to keep a growing boy in clothes, so Zander and I selected shirts and khakis for school, jeans and more shirts for play, socks and underwear, a cool winter coat, two pairs of shoes, and matching knit gloves and stocking cap.
Pleased with our first purchases, we went in search of a “fun” present. It took a while, but we found it.
“This is perfect!” I was giddy with delight.
“It is, Gemma. From you or from the two of us?”
It was a loaded question.
I looked down. “I think from both of us.”
“Me, too.”
We spent another hour selecting gifts for Abe, Dr. Bickel, and Gamble. It was enjoyable and tiring at the same time. Zander’s trunk was filled, even though I’d hardly made a dent in my stack of cash.
We were both ready to call it a day when Zander pulled up to Abe’s house. Zander would haul the gifts to his place, and we agreed to hold a gift-wrapping party the following evening. Zander wanted to spend a minute with Abe and Emilio, while I intended to head back to my hotel. While Zander grabbed my new clothes, the nanomites covered me and I got out of his car.
I squinted at the unfamiliar vehicle parked along the curb near my house. Then I flinched when I saw who was hurrying our way.
“Uh-oh. What’s that about?” I asked Zander.
My nosy neighbor, Belicia Calderón, her chins wobbling as she hurried our way, was headed right for us. She couldn’t see me, but she did see Zander and aimed for him.
“Pastor Cruz! Pastor Cruz!”
“Mrs. Calderón. Merry Christmas. How are you?”
“Don’t bother about that right now! I don’t know what to do—should I call the police? Please help.”
She was out of breath and frantic. Not her usual busybody mode. No, she was terrified.
“What’s wrong?”
She glanced over her shoulder once before leaning in toward Zander. “I just saw her at Gemma’s door. You know Genie is housesitting for Gemma, yes? Well, Genie opened the door for her and—”
“Who, Mrs. Calderón? Who her. Who did you see at Gemma’s door?”
Mrs. Calderón was struggling to catch her breath. “That terrible woman! I was looking through my window and saw her.”
Zander’s expression was as horrified as mine had to be. He gripped her hand. “Who did you see?”
“Why, th-that awful General Cushing woman! Sh-she pointed a gun right at Genie!”
With better control than I had, Zander instructed my anxious neighbor, “Go back home and lock the door, Mrs. Calderón. We’ll call the police. Stay away from the windows.”
As the woman left to do as Zander commanded, he turned and looked for me. He already had his phone out. “Gamble?”
“Yes. Tell him to hurry.”
Zander and I were hunkered down with his car between us and my house when he got off the phone with Gamble.
“It will be at least twenty to thirty minutes before a tactical team arrives.”
“And then what? Cushing uses Genie as a hostage? I can’t see that ending well! It’s me she wants.”
“Hold on; I have an idea. What if I knock on the front door and distract Cushing while you go around to the back and come in all stealth-style?”
I was already shaking my head. “No. No! The nanomites will protect me, but if anything happened to you, Zander—”
“I dunno, Gemma. It sounds like you love me or something. Which is it? You love me? Or something?”
“Zander! This is not the time!”
He chuckled. “I know, but you need to calm down—and we need to pray before we go.”
“We? We are not going; I’m going. I have the might and force of the nanocloud, remember?”
“Yes, but you don’t necessarily have God’s mind on this. Let’s pray.” He grabbed my hands and dove in. “Lord, we don’t know what is going on in there with Genie and Cushing, but you do. Will you please tell us what to do?”
I wanted to tug my hands right out of his and sprint across the cul-de-sac. The only thing stopping me was the strong conviction I carried in my heart from my past mistakes, the hasty, ill-conceived actions that had endangered Emilio—which was why my mouth fell open when that still, small voice spoke to me—and I don’t mean the nanomites, either.
Do not be afraid to go up against this enemy, Gemma. Do as Zander suggested. The two of you are a powerful weapon in my hand to accomplish my purposes.
My face froze in stunned surprise.
Gemma Keyes. We heard Jesus talking to you.
The nanomites sounded as shocked as I felt. “Uh, yes, Nano.”
“Gemma?” Zander must have seen my astonishment.
“Y-you are to go with me. Like you said.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s what Jesus just now spoke to me, and . . . well, the nanomites heard him, too.”
“You’re kidding me! I mean about the nanomites hearing Jesus. That is . . . unreal. Are you sure?”
“Zander! We don’t have time for this right now!”
“All right, all right. I believe you. If Jesus said, we’re both to go, let’s get moving.”
“You aren’t afraid?”
His smile was crooked. “I wasn’t always a pastor, remember? Wasn’t always a Christian. I’ve done things. Had a few close calls.”
“I-I forget sometimes.”
Zander, still gripping my hand, helped me to my feet. He gave me a head start before he crossed the cul-de-sac. When I heard the doorbell ring, I unlocked and slipped inside the side doors. As I tiptoed through the kitchen, I heard the conversation coming from the living room.
“Who is it?” Genie asked.
“It’s Zander Cruz, Genie.”
Genie replied with stilted, wooden words, “Come in, Zander.”
I crept around the corner into the dining room; the front door opened, and Zander entered.
Genie was facing me, Cushing behind her. They were both on the other side of the couch, close to the hallway. Cushing held a gun in one hand; she had her other arm wrapped around Genie’s neck—and the point of a box cutter pressed into the fragile skin under Genie’s jaw. A drizzle of blood trickled down her neck.
Genie didn’t look particularly scared, but I knew Genie: She hated not being in control. More likely, she was furious.
Zander, in profile, stood just inside the door.
As usual, Cushing’s hair was pinned at her neck in that perfect knotted braid. What wasn’t usual was her attire: It was the only time I’d seen her out of uniform. Instead, she wore a baggy shirt over a skirt. “Miss Keyes? I’m going to assume you are here, too. Come in, please—before I make a mess on your carpet.”
So much for
Zander distracting her.
Genie went from infuriated to incredulous as I unmasked and took a step forward.
“Gemma?”
I might have savored the utter disbelief on Genie’s face—had I not been preoccupied with keeping her alive.
“That’s far enough,” Cushing ordered. “I know what you are capable of.”
Her teeth gleamed a shiny white through her lips. She waggled the gun. Flipped the safety off and slid her finger onto the trigger. “Recognize this? Do you know what it is?”
I did. “A Taser, model X26.”
“Very good! I advise you to make no sudden moves. I would hate to lose two sisters on the same day.”
Gemma Keyes, if she fires the Taser, we will propel a pulse to meet and decimate the discharge. It will do no damage to you or to us.
“Yes, but can you get past the discharge before Cushing cuts Genie’s throat?”
Silence for five thundering beats of my heart.
We have considered the time it would take to dissipate the Taser’s discharge and, afterward, reach Cushing. It is likely we could reach her at or near her response time. If we were late, we would attempt to repair your sister’s severed skin and artery. We believe the odds to be favorable.
I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep myself from screeching my reply aloud.
“ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS? PLAYING THE ODDS ON MY SISTER’S SURVIVAL?”
We will reconsider our approach, Gemma Keyes . . .
Their “voices” petered out, but as they faded, I thought I heard them mutter at the end, although we didn’t think you liked your sister all that much.
I jerked my attention back to Cushing.
She kept her eyes and the Taser trained on me, but she spoke to Zander. “Don’t think that I won’t see you move in my peripheral vision, Reverend Cruz. If you so much as twitch, I will slice Genie like a melon.”
Cushing smiled and addressed me again. “May I say how well you’re looking, Miss Keyes? You’ve slimmed down and shaped up. Why, I hardly recognized you the other evening! Yes, you are looking quite fit—considering all things.”
So, she wanted to spar. Okay; I knew how to spar.
“Considering all things?”
“I spoke to Greaves on the phone before his unfortunate demise. He told me how he’d shot you, Miss Keyes. Said the Taser knocked you right down and made you visible. Hurt you. You couldn’t get up. Couldn’t even move.”
I nodded. “Yup. It sure did. The electrical charge killed many of the nanomites and destroyed the nanocloud. Good thing Dr. Bickel had a bunch more nanomites hidden in his lab in the cavern.”
Oh, dear me.
Cushing’s face flushed crimson as she realized more nanomites had been right there, under her nose, all this time.
Tsk, tsk.
I didn’t bother to tell her that the mites had been uncut—fused to their silicon backings—unprogrammed and worthless to her needs. She didn’t need to know that, did she?
And me? Well, I just wanted to push her buttons. Knock her off her game while the nanomites figured out how to defeat her.
I was doing a masterful job.
“So, you see,” I went on, “you could use that Taser on me—but, well, if you did, you would destroy the nanomites. There aren’t any more. These are the last of them—and aren’t the nanomites what you’ve been after all this time?”
Her next words chilled me.
“You mistake me, Miss Keyes. I’m not here for the nanomites; I’m no longer interested in acquiring them: I’m here for you. I’m interested in how this Taser will affect you. Hurt you. I would enjoy watching you suffer. Perhaps die. I believe you nearly died when Colonel Greaves shot you with the Taser?”
I shrugged. “Yet here I am.”
“Yes, and I must thank you for coming. You solved a problem for me: I did wonder how I would lure you here. Given the mutual affection you siblings share, I wasn’t convinced a desperate phone call from your sister would do the trick.”
I dug in. “Actually, I’ve been here to visit Genie—just as I’ve been in your office and conference room. Many times. Listening to your plans. Keeping ahead of you.”
Was it my imagination? Did her brazen confidence slip a little?
She side-stepped and fixed her grip on Genie a little tighter. Smiled wider and ignored my barbs.
“Good for you! I never suspected, and I have so many little questions. Do indulge me: Is that how you located Danny? Spying on me in my office?”
“Indirectly. We watched your calendar. Decoded your standing appointment at ‘Sandia Café.’ Followed you to the SCIF. Listened in on your conversations with Greaves. We traced the secure call with him to its origin.”
“We?” My use of the plural pronoun puzzled her.
I nodded. “Yes. The nanomites and I.”
“The nanomites and . . .”
I watched the interplay of disbelief and jealousy flit across her face and baited her further. “Yes, the nanomites and I. They live inside of me, and we have what might be called a symbiotic relationship. We’ve grown to understand each other, to work together, to cooperate.”
I goaded her. “You see, at first, the mites kept me hidden all the time. They thought they were keeping me safe by hiding me. That was before we began talking to each other. Working together. Now they hide me only when I ask them to.”
Her sharky upper lip spasmed, but I had to admire Cushing’s iron self-control. “Well, it was certainly impressive—how you infiltrated the house down in White Sands. How you managed to, how shall I say it? Liberate? Yes, liberate. How you managed to liberate dear Danny.”
I shrugged and unloaded the big guns. “It wasn’t all that difficult—just as it wasn’t difficult to enter the White House last Friday night, introduce myself to President Jackson, and have a meaningful conversation with him regarding Vice President Harmon’s treason. And you. Your treason.”
Cushing’s smile dropped from her face the way a lead weight dropped from fifty feet crashes to the earth. Ohhhh, she was ticked.
“You . . . you . . .”
At that same moment, the nanomites hissed a warning to me. Gemma Keyes, Cushing is hiding something. Under her shirt.
About the same time, I noticed Genie’s odd behavior, how she cut her eyes to the right and down. Then back to me. Again, to the right and down.
Pointing?
I frowned.
Gemma Keyes. Cushing is hiding something.
There was no way Cushing could have heard the nanomites. Perhaps it was the way I was staring at her.
She smiled her satisfaction. “I thought I’d gotten you when I blew up that house you’d been hiding in, Gemma. I thought I’d killed you, I really did. I came oh! so very close, and couldn’t understand how you’d survived. Thank you for answering my questions, my dear, for illuminating my thinking. I do believe I’ll succeed this time.”
With infinite care, Cushing edged Genie to the side. A wire ran from Cushing to Genie; the wire tugged the unbuttoned tail of Cushing’s shirt aside—and exposed the wide belt she wore.
Flat, molded packages of plastic explosives lined the outside of the belt. Short lengths of yellow and black-striped detonation cord protruded from each explosive charge. My eyes could not stop jittering from one piece of that obscene device to another. And to the wire linking Cushing and Genie.
“Nano! Go! Disarm the bomb and put Cushing down!”
The timing is not right, Gemma Keyes, and we have instructions to keep you safe.
“What? No; get over there and save my sister!”
Genie Keyes is not our priority; you are, Gemma Keyes. Your safety and that of the nanocloud.
“But—”
Wait. Gemma Keyes. The timing is not right.
Cushing eased Genie back toward her, and my view of her deadly accessory disappeared. Cushing breathed hard; excitement and triumph punctuated each word. “Don’t attempt any heroics, Miss Keyes. The charges are wired
to the detonator two ways: ‘in line’ and independently—a wise backup technique on my part. And to answer your unspoken question, no. I’m not holding the detonator.”
She tipped her chin down. “Did you notice the wire running between your sister and me? It is one of three such wires.”
Every one of Cushing’s sharky teeth gleamed and winked at me. “You see, my dear, I don’t need to hold a detonator. Your sister is the detonator. One step away from me? Any one of three wires reaches its end? Boom.”
I felt the nanomites pulling the house’s electricity into me; felt it building and building and building. Soon. I was ready to act on the nanomites’ signal.
Cushing squinted as the lights flickered and dimmed. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it!”
Genie slid her eyes away from me. Toward Zander. “Zander. I—”
“Shut up,” Cushing hissed. She dug the razor tip of the box cutter deeper and Genie flinched. Cried out.
At her yelp of pain, ten pounds of yowling fur, claws, and teeth leapt past Genie, landed on Cushing’s chest, and tore into her.
“Jake! No!”
Cushing beat at Jake with the Taser while squeezing Genie tighter in the crook of her elbow. Cushing’s blows knocked Jake to the ground, where he renewed his attack, targeting Cushing’s vulnerable legs. She jerked and jumped and kicked at Jake.
“Genie! Don’t move! Stick with her!”
The way Cushing clasped my sister kept Genie’s back to Cushing; Genie couldn’t turn within the crook of Cushing’s arm without forcing the box cutter into her own throat. Genie reached behind her and managed to snag the tail of Cushing’s shirt with one hand; she pulled Cushing closer. And held on.
“I won’t let go, Gemma! Get out now, while you can! Go!”
No. Now was the time to act. I was fully charged up and ready to race forward to fight Cushing. My muscles coiled and prepared to spring—
I gasped as sizzling blue fire erupted from my body and burned straight through the living room wall, leaving a hole the size of a car.
Not me! I hadn’t done that!
The nanomites.
I could see Abe’s house and the entire cul-de-sac through the gaping void—but I couldn’t move. Not a foot or a finger; I was utterly paralyzed. Then I realized the nanomites were dragging me toward the hole they’d punched in the wall.
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