by Susan Vaught
I pulled out my phone and held it out, scrubbing at the screen with my finger. It lit up, and suddenly, I was looking into another stone basement, just like the one in the mansion’s main room. So, Thornwood didn’t have a priest hole. It was more like a priest mansion- under-the-mansion.
I had no idea why that one room had no doors or stairs, but this one did, off to one side—and a door on the other side. The stairs were stone, too, as if they had been carved out of solid limestone. I moved my phone farther and illuminated a too-modern desk, a lamp, a laptop, and a fat black box with dark lights that should have been blinking. A server with torn wires—wires that had likely been poking through the grate in my photo.
A car came rumbling into the parking lot as I kept searching the little basement room, and my light fell on something I really, really didn’t want to see.
A hand.
My chest squeezed tight, forcing out all my air as I followed the hand to a green-clad arm, to a shoulder, to Captain Coker’s face. She lay on her side, eyes closed, boards and sawdust covering her legs.
“Help!” I yelled—then saw another leg, bigger, with a giant tennis shoe sticking out of the rubble.
“Captain Coker fell!” I sat up so I could yell louder and dropped my phone in my lap. “She’s hurt and Bot fell, too!”
“Shut up,” a voice hissed from behind me, and I screamed.
On reflex, I yanked my joystick backward and bashed straight into the big headshot daguerreotype of Hargrove Thornwood. Pinpricks of light danced on the opposite wall like lasers shooting straight out of his long-dead brain. I screamed again and held up my phone like it could fire back.
From out in the parking lot, Mom yelled, “Max? Max!”
Lavender yelled too, and a man’s voice said, “We’re coming!”
My head whipped to the Thornwood picture and I realized light really was coming out of its eyes. I tried to get a breath. Then I realized the steps I had seen along the far wall in the new cave-in room—they would lead into the closet under the main staircase. The closet must have a light inside, pirated if it wasn’t built to have a light to start with. And the picture—it really was cleaner than all the rest of them, because somebody had dusted it off. Somebody had also scraped the eyes thin so they could see through them and catch whatever was happening in the mansion’s main hallway. The closet light was shining through the picture’s eyes.
I gulped a breath. Grabbed my phone and crammed it in my pocket. Tried to calm down.
Couldn’t.
“Mom! Lavender! Help me!”
Hargrove Thornwood’s portrait hissed, “Shut up!”
“No!” I rocketed away from that awful daguerreotype, blasting across the hall, into the study with the pink fireplace and the painting of Vivienne Thornwood, and absolute darkness. I let go of the joystick.
The chair screeched to a stop and rocked forward. My hands hit marble as I flung them out. My safety belt ripped the rest of the way, but I hung on to the chair arms and didn’t fall. Safe.
For a split-second, Thornwood Manor got totally, completely quiet. I took a deep breath. Remembered how this room, too, had smelled like cleansers the first time we came, and how the inside of the fireplace had seemed cleaner than the rest of the mansion.
The door in the room under the grate . . .
And I knew how Vivienne Thornwood had smuggled out her daughter. Through more secret rooms and tunnels, which had to have hidden entrances, like maybe in the strangely clean fireplace.
I was probably sitting right on top of—
The boards underneath my chair gave a huge groan and pop.
The world shuddered.
My chair shook and pitched.
Wood turned to dust, and I fell through the floor, chair and all.
24
Slow motion.
But too fast.
Flying down.
My belly dropped fastest of all.
The chair tilted backward. Hit on its back wheels so hard every bone in my body rattled.
Bounced.
Who was screaming?
Me?
The chair tipped in the air and slammed onto its side.
Plastic and metal snapped under my right arm and leg.
My head hit limestone.
I don’t know if it bounced.
The world swam and dimmed.
Came back.
I was staring at shoes. Right in front of my bleeding nose.
Black ones. Nike Airs.
“Size ten?” I mumbled.
Then I didn’t see anything.
25
If I had a wheelchair made of unbreakable iron, I wouldn’t need to be a superhero. If I had a wheelchair that could motor across water and jet through the air, I wouldn’t need superpowers. I wished my chair could speed on highways and roll over bumpy fields and sand and gravel with no problem. If I could design a chair for myself, it would stand up for me and walk when I needed legs instead of wheels.
Why couldn’t wheelchairs do all of those things?
If humans could make satellites that went to Jupiter and guns that killed fifty people in five seconds and cars that drove themselves and the Internet and toothbrushes for dogs, then why couldn’t humans change the world so people on wheels could use it with no problem, or at least make wheelchairs that would really do all the things legs were supposed to do—and more?
From somewhere far, far, far away, I heard Mom and Lavender yelling my name.
And then, I didn’t.
My head weighed six thousand pounds.
A few seconds later, I processed that somebody was carrying me.
Toppy?
I tried to open my eyes, but that made my skull throb, so I kept them closed. My legs didn’t have much feeling, and they didn’t work anyway, so I couldn’t really tell if they were smashed to bits. I squeezed fingers and slowly moved my arms and head. I felt a little sore, especially on my right side, but I didn’t think anything was broken.
Except my head, maybe.
That was probably bad.
The world went away again, but I thought maybe just for a little while.
Who was carrying me?
Not Toppy. The arms were too skinny. Wrong smell. Sweet spice, something commercial and newer. Toppy would call it “boy perfume.”
Boy.
A few fragments at a time, the night came back to me. Thornwood. Captain Coker and Bot lying in the hidden room the hacker had used for his cyberattack center. My slow pulse picked up. I started breathing faster, and the spicy aftershave washed over my senses.
“Ellis?” I mumbled.
“Ssshh,” he whispered.
For a few seconds I relaxed back into my fuzzy-headed brain-throb. Then my eyes fluttered open-ish again, and cool prickles of fear laced across my neck and shoulders. Why couldn’t I hear Mom? Where was Lavender?
“It’s okay,” Ellis said. “I don’t want to hurt you. I know I said some crummy stuff and made that abuse report, but all of that was just to make your mom come get you and take you away from this stinkhole town.”
I kept my mouth tightly closed.
“That whole thing at Blue Creek Middle School—you were supposed to be gone. When I realized you weren’t, I stomped out the fire in the trash can before the smoke choked you up.”
I imagined a sooty footprint, matching the dusty footprint in Thornwood. “Thanks,” I whispered, getting more terrified by the second but trying to keep my muscles loose so I wouldn’t make Ellis mad. I caught a glimpse of his face, but mostly I could see the bottom of his jaw.
“All my fires have been small up to now, just to let people know they can’t do wrong and get away clean. Oh, and sorry I shined you on about helping you catch me.” He laughed. “That was never going to happen.”
But I trusted you, part of my brain insisted. The smarter part kept my mouth closed. Toppy had actually talked to me about situations like this, what to do if I got snatched by some freaky bad guy.
; Stay calm. Pay attention to your surroundings. Consider your options. Remember your resources. Stay alive. Remember, Max, that’s your only duty in a threat situation. Stay alive.
Did other parents do that kind of training, or was it just because he was a police chief? And if other parents did tell kids what to do if they got kidnapped, I bet they didn’t always finish with a promise like, And don’t worry, they’ll bring you back pretty fast, because you eat too much.
Somehow, I didn’t think Ellis was planning to feed me anything.
Stay alive. Yeah. That was about the shape of my current threat situation, and what I needed to do.
“Blue Creek is no place for somebody with special needs,” he was saying. “It’s no place for somebody special, period.”
“Special needs.” I so totally hated that phrase. I didn’t have special needs. I just didn’t have legs that worked, so I used wheels. Why was that special?
Don’t get mad. Not here. Not now. He’ll drop you, or do something worse.
“I was the best student in all my classes,” Ellis said. “I had real talent—but did anybody care? No. I was nobody because I didn’t have the right family or a big enough bank account.”
Surroundings. Okay. I had to pay attention. On purpose, I slowed my breathing. Ellis wasn’t walking fast or carefully, even though it was so dark I could barely see anything. The air smelled like cemeteries. Dirt. And wet rock. Now and then I saw twisty shadows above us, like tree roots. It was like we were inside, but outside, too.
“Well, who has the big bank account now?” he laughed. “And who has been staying in the most famous mansion in Tennessee for months? Thornwood Manor suits me. I’ll miss it.”
Why? Oh, no. WHY?
But before I could ask that, Ellis said, “I can go anywhere I want now. I can finally have what I deserve—and do you know why?”
I thought for a second, and I came up with, “Because all things obey money?”
“Smart girl.” He sounded pleased. “Bot and that state trooper—they should have remembered that, and they wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”
“Are we somewhere near the manor?” I asked, trying to keep my tone curious and very light.
“We’re underneath the grounds,” Ellis said. “North side. People thought Hargrove was a paranoid, sneaky guy—but he had nothing on his wife Vivienne. When he lost it, he built that first basement, sealed off from everything, and he started loading valuables into it through a trapdoor. That gave Vivienne ideas.” Ellis laughed. “She got the workers who built Thornwood’s basement to feel sorry for her, and she talked them into making a maze of tunnels connected to the rest of the mansion. It’s all noted on the oldest drawings of Thornwood Manor that I lifted from the City Hall archives—and they have some notes about her supervising the construction, and gradually shifting most of what Thornwood salted away in his basement to her own hiding places. She sold his own stuff out from under his nose to fund her tunnels, and then she sent whatever money was left to her kids. No wonder the old guy kept accusing the townspeople of stealing from him.”
We’re underground in Vivienne Thornwood’s tunnels, I thought dully. And Ellis seemed very familiar with them.
I thought for a second and asked, “We going anywhere special?”
“Nah, just near the end of this longest stretch.” He sounded so happy it made me feel a little silly for being scared. “I’ve timed everything over and over—but I left myself a few minutes, just in case something unexpected happened. Like this.” Another laugh. It sounded unhinged. “I can’t let you stop me, Max, but I want to be sure the smoke doesn’t get to you. I was going to escape this way, but I’ll use my back-up exit in the front tunnels instead.”
“Smoke,” I managed to say calmly. “You’re going to set something on fire?”
“A pissy little town like Blue Creek doesn’t deserve Thornwood Manor,” Ellis said. “And I need to be sure the City Council doesn’t give your grandfather a second chance. Because of you, I’m not going to hurt him, though. Not unless he tries to come after me.”
My heart ached. I wanted my grandfather. I wanted to see him and hug him and know he was okay, that I was going to be okay. I didn’t care if he kept his job or not. I didn’t care if we couldn’t have cable or cereal or tea or Internet or anything. I didn’t ever want to leave him.
Don’t cry. Don’t. I coughed instead, and thought about Bot and Captain Coker. Should I bring them up? Or did he want to hurt them, too? Would I make everything worse if I reminded him they were in the mansion?
“So, what did Toppy do to you?” I asked to keep him talking.
Ellis’s grip on my shoulders and probably my legs, too, tightened until it hurt, but I didn’t make any noise. “It’s not your fault. I know you weren’t even born when Toppy and Mayor Chandler put my dad in prison.”
“I thought . . . wait.” I turned my head toward Ellis and stared at the bottom of his jaw. “You knew your dad?”
“My father’s name was Frank Unger. I used Pritchard, my aunt’s married name, so people wouldn’t realize we were related. And no, I didn’t know my father very well. Your grandfather stole him from me when I was seven.”
Change a name, change your life. Who said that? Oh, yeah. Mom, when she was talking about Mayor Chandler.
“Dad had to do everything for me because Mom died when I was born,” Ellis went on without me asking any more questions. “That’s why he drank. But Mayor Chandler didn’t care what he was going through. When he made a mistake and showed up to work smelling like beer, she fired him from Chandler Construction, even though he didn’t miss a day. He couldn’t pay our bills then, so he had to do something, you understand?”
No! I yelled in my head. “Yes,” I said out loud.
“He only robbed that convenience store to make sure he could take care of me,” Ellis said. “But Chief Brennan arrested him and sent him to prison. My aunt and I, we couldn’t afford decent lawyers, so I never saw my dad again. I just got a letter when he died on the first of December, last year.”
Oh. Oh, ouch. “I’m sorry,” I said, surprised I actually meant that. Sadness flowed over me, through me, mixing with my fear, and I couldn’t hold it back.
Ellis eased up on my shoulders a little. “It took me a year to plan this, to make sure Chief Brennan and the mayor and the whole stupid, judgmental town got what they deserved. Go to California with your mother, Max, and don’t look back. Are you crying? Don’t cry. I promise, you’ll be safe.”
“What are you going to do, Ellis?”
He slowed.
Walked a few more steps.
Stopped.
Then he bent down and gently set me on the dark tunnel floor. Cold immediately snaked through my clothes, slithering across my back and shoulders and neck and arms.
For a second Ellis stood there, staring at me. A tiny bit of light reached us from somewhere, and I could see his wide eyes, the bristles of his close-cropped hair, and I thought maybe I could make out some of his freckles.
He looked . . . the same.
He looked like Ellis. The boy I knew. The guy who sold me wires and circuits. Not some evil, heartless hacker, or thief, or vandal. Just Ellis.
More tears washed down my face.
“What’s happening?” I asked the boy I had wished could be my older brother.
That boy stood up, and slowly, slowly, slowly faded out of my mind, leaving only a shadow hovering above me.
Then, in the tunnel’s quiet darkness, that shadow answered me in a voice edged with ice and rage. “Thornwood’s Revenge.”
26
Don’t leave me here!” I shouted after Ellis as he walked away.
“Once I’m clear, I’ll tell them where you are,” he called over his shoulder.
“Wait!” I cried so hard the word barely came out, but it didn’t matter. Ellis just kept walking until he vanished into pitch darkness, back the way we had come.
Stay calm. Pay attention to your surroundings. .
. .
Ellis had to be walking toward Thornwood, toward the rooms under the manor, but he told me the tunnels made a maze. Who knew how many twists and turns I didn’t sense or remember? I wasn’t even awake for all of it. Even if I could crawl as far as he walked, what if I ran into him? Or whatever awful thing he was doing?
He told me I’d be safe where I was.
And he was a wretched, lying creep.
Consider your options.
Without my chair, I had two choices: sit where I was, or crawl. I could yell, but my voice wouldn’t last forever, and who would hear me down here, wherever here was?
I knew I was breathing too fast. And freezing. My teeth chattered. Still, my face got all hot as I got pissed off, because I hated that I didn’t have wheels, that I couldn’t move well with just my own body.
Remember your resources. Yeah. If pissed off and cold as heck were resources, I’d be set for life. Oh, wait! My new phone!
My heart gave a huge leap, and I dug my phone out of my pocket. Right away, I realized it had gotten bent and cracked when my chair fell through the floor and smashed into the granite floor beneath Thornwood. The broken screen stayed dark when I touched it. I bit my lip and pressed the power button, and . . .
It lit up!
“Come on, come on,” I muttered, going back over everything Ellis said. He was about to burn Thornwood to the ground, with Captain Coker and Bot unconscious in that server room—and Mom and Lavender and that trooper had been trying to catch me when I ran away, and they might be in the house, too—
No!
The phone shifted to my home screen, and I managed to work the slider despite the fifty-billion crack lines. I pulled up the dial pad, pushed the numbers—
The call didn’t send.
I brought the phone closer to my face and groaned when I saw the two little white words in the left-hand corner:
No Service
I banged my head once on the tunnel’s stone wall. The phone illuminated dust and rocks everywhere. The floor here wasn’t solid granite. It had been mixed with dirt. And—