“I don’t think she wrote it, but she signed it,” I admitted, after reading the letter for the fourth time.
“Why don’t I call her so we can clear up this little mystery?” Mrs. Pike tried to turn the question cheery, but her eyes were still worried.
Nobody answered the home phone or Momma’s cell. The bell ending school rang before we could try my New Daddy’s work number, but I don’t think Mrs. Pike woulda called him. The letter didn’t have his signature, so he probably knew about as much as we did.
“May I go now?”
Mrs. Pike’s expression declared her wish to say no, but she said, “Get to that bus quick, and be careful.”
I ran home from the bus stop and got crushed by Momma when I entered the house. For a few minutes, I let Momma cry on me, but I had some burning questions that needed answers. I guided her to the kitchen table and sat her down. Her grip stayed tight on me until I told her I was gonna fetch tissues and water.
It took lots of careful questions and half a box of tissues, but I finally got enough of the story to understand what the man at school wanted. I won’t put every one of Momma’s words here ’cause she repeated things a lot and sometimes didn’t make sense. Michio and TJ wandered in midway through the telling looking like somebody had died. In a strange way, I felt like the ghosted one.
Michio crawled up into my lap and tucked his arms around me. TJ barked his jealousy, so Momma picked him up like a baby and stroked his head for as long as he would stand it. My stomach clenched and got that nasty crawling feeling like your insides are trying to exit through your ribs.
I tried to speak several times, but I had to search long and hard for what needed saying. Finally, I blurted what was on my mind.
“I gotta go with ’em.”
“No!” Momma musta squeezed TJ real hard ’cause he yowled and squirmed free. Momma’s cry came out desperate, but her next words were stronger. “You are my baby. Mine! They have no right to take you away!”
Hearing the terror and tears in Momma’s voice hurt, but I drew comfort from Michio’s hug. One of Nana’s sayings came to me, so I voiced it.
“Right and legal are eventually gonna part ways, Momma.”
“Run,” Michio suggested.
“That’s right, Michio,” said Momma. “That’s what we gotta do to stay together. Family stays together.”
I didn’t think we’d have enough time to run, but I also couldn’t bring myself to break Momma’s heart by telling her. The packing and preparations gave her a purpose that chased away the gloom.
***
The government people just pulled up, so I’m switching over to Malia’s thoughts-to-words program and hoping it works from afar if this goes how I think it’s gonna go.
The first rumble of a government SUV brought Momma to my side at a run. Two agent men in dark suits hopped out. One of ’em held a thick folder in his arms.
Momma made a frustrated noise and grabbed my shoulders hard so I faced her.
“Can you make it out the back door?”
“I can’t run, Momma. They’ll send ya to prison.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Momma’s hands moved from my shoulders to my face and cupped my cheeks with surprising gentleness. Tears made her eyes shiny, but her voice continued on strong. “You matter!”
“Isaac and Michio matter too, and they need ya to stay free.” Tears stung my eyes.
Mention of Michio put a new fear behind Momma’s eyes, making me feel bad.
“Do they know about him?” Her hands dropped from where they were around my face and squeeze my hands painfully.
Knocks on the front door forced me to speak faster than normal.
“Probably, but if they haven’t mentioned him yet, I doubt they’ll take him right now. Hide him. Quick as ya can. Get in touch with Varick. He’ll know where to send y’all to safety.”
The knocks grew louder and more demanding. One of the agent men called out to us.
“U.S. Marshalls, open up. We have a court order to serve.”
Something about the men seemed off. I’d never met a Marshall before, but I could tell their approach was wrong. Peering out through the peep hole, I saw the speaker was “Mr. Jones.”
“What do you want?” I demanded.
“You’re going to open this door and surrender to protective custody,” said Mr. Jones. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “If you make me break this door, the situation could get ugly. There are a lot of innocent casualties when situations turn ugly.”
I sighed. The threat wasn’t that imaginative, but it was effective. If I didn’t open the door, the men—who I figured had nothing to do with the government—would bust in and hurt or kill Momma, Isaac, and Michio. Slapping the bolt free but leaving the outside handle in the locked position, I slipped out and quickly shut the door behind me. The men had to step back on the stoop to make room for me. Keeping my back pressed against the door and shivering ’cause I’d forgotten a jacket, I waited for the men to say something.
“That’s better,” commented Mr. Jones. “Step right this way.” He placed a hand on my left shoulder and waved for me to continue down the steps to the walkway.
“What should I do with the paperwork?” asked the other man.
“Leave it there or put it in the car,” replied Mr. Jones.
His tone told me he didn’t care what the man did with the paperwork. It had already served its purpose in drawing me out.
Chapter 13:
That Ain’t a Choice
ITEM 196: Allison’s fourth letter to Dr. Sokolowski
Item Source: Allison Blairington
Dear Dr. S.,
I thought I’d been through some hard things in my life, but nothing has ever come close to the disaster that is today.
I can’t believe this is happening again.
Even when Jillian got taken by that horrible Dr. Devya man I had Jeffrey’s undivided support to lean on. This time, he’s got half a mind to take Isaac and me in the car and keep on driving until the demons chasing Jillian quit hounding us. Jeffrey’s a good man though. He would never abandon Michio. That’s the fear talking.
This fear is altogether its own beast. The first fear—hot and heavy, stifling and thick—was unknown the whole way through until Jillian was back in our arms. This new fear—cold and bleak, dark and alive with shifting changes—grows inside us in a thousand forms.
Varick told us he’s still working out what happened, but he also advised that we stay put for now. He told us where to find instructions to an emergency safe house stocked with supplies if we want to run, but he still hopes that our lives can continue as we know it.
I am having trouble believing things like that anymore.
This morning dawned so crisp and clear, cool and fresh, that I could believe in promises of good times and hope. About midday, two men in a black truck, looking like they worked for a funeral home, changed everything. The passenger got out, slipped an envelope into our mailbox, and started up the path to the front door.
Isaac had been fussing, so I already had him in my arms.
“Should we open the door for the man?” I asked my son, as I casually walked to the door. I wanted to give the man enough time to ring the bell proper-like. Looking back, I wish I’d never answered the door.
After introductions, Mr. Jones didn’t waste time. He held a clipboard out to me. It had a typed letter on it. I only read it twice, but I will carry those words with me for as long as I live. It read:
To Whom It May Concern:
Please know that the bearer of this letter acts on my behalf. An urgent family matter has arisen, and I need Jillian to join us as soon as possible. As I am unable to collect her myself, please accept this note as a testament to my will in this matter.
Thank you for your time and cooperation.
Sincerely,
Allison Blairington
“Sign it.”
Mr. Jones’s command pulled me back to the present momen
t, but I merely stared down at the pen he offered.
“I don’t understand. None of that is true. Why would I sign that?” I shifted my hold on Isaac to relieve the sudden ache in my arms.
Mr. Jones tilted his head forward and lowered his voice.
“Sign the paper, Mrs. Blairington. I have more to say, and you won’t want to hear it. Do yourself a favor and sign the letter.”
Drawing Isaac in tighter, I fought the impulse to step back.
“Get off my property.” I’m surprised my voice remained steady ’cause sweeping anger made me wanna breathe fire at the fancy man with his unspoken threats.
He gave me a crooked smile.
“You’re going to sign the paper. Do you want to know why?”
“Why?” Full of energizing anger, I flung the question at him.
“Because if you don’t sign it, I’m going to the courthouse to file these papers.” Mr. Jones flipped the letter back so I could read the next page. It held a lot of hard to read text, but I skimmed enough to get the gist.
“But they’re lies,” I whispered, clinging hard to Isaac.
“The truth doesn’t matter,” Mr. Jones crowed with triumph. “By the time you untangle the legal mess, that boy you’re holding will be off to college, after being raised in a series of dumpy foster homes. Am I getting through to you?”
“I think so,” I murmured, suddenly short of breath.
“Great. Sign the paper.”
I signed.
God help me, I signed that awful letter that would allow the evil man to enter Jillian’s school and walk away with her. The other paper painted a grim picture. I didn’t have time to work through the legal language, but essentially, it accused me of being unfit to raise Isaac.
Lose my daughter or lose my son. That ain’t a choice. That’s a death blow to any momma’s heart.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Mr. Jones mocked. He turned to go but paused, and added, “Just a few more things. Don’t answer any phone calls from the school this afternoon. In fact, don’t make or take any phone calls or leave the house. There’s a phone in your mailbox, see that Varick Ayers receives it.” He thought for a moment. “That should about do it. You have a nice day.”
Imagine my surprise and relief when Jillian sailed through the front door this afternoon. The suddenness of it burst the dam of worries and fears I’d locked up all afternoon. I wasted so much time blubbering. We coulda gotten clear away, if I hadn’t misspent the time. I know what-ifs won’t change anything, but I can’t stop wondering if I endangered my poor Jillian.
What do I do?
Varick came by to collect the phone. He claims the legal threats are empty, but I dare not risk losing Isaac for a chance at saving Jillian. When I asked Varick what I should do, he reminded me that my daughter has come through some tough spots before and would do so again. He then asked me to have faith.
I want to believe that if I shut my eyes and rest, I’ll wake up with the world right again.
I am so tired.
I’m sorry to leave things like this, but I haven’t the heart for more. Please do come over tomorrow. I could use the company.
Sincerely,
Allison Blairington
Chapter 14:
Warn Danielle
ITEM 197: Jillian’s 97th post-kidnapping journal entry
Item Source: Jillian Blairington
I expected the men to give me a shot or blindfold me, but I was relieved when Mr. Jones settled for some threats. He said the child locks were on and that if I even tried ’em he’d make Momma’s life miserable. I didn’t ask him to get more specific, but he pointed to some papers the other man had tossed onto the seat next to me.
Since I assumed the road trip would take a long time, I read the papers carefully. The lawyer language tripped me up some, making me wish I could talk to Nadia. She’d probably tell me the papers wouldn’t hold up in court, but even I could see they could cause Momma and my New Daddy a lot of trouble.
The first page made me angry ’cause it accused Momma of being mentally unfit to be a momma. The second page, which started getting into details, shocked me so much I had to read it three times and even then I couldn’t accept the words. The paper claimed Momma and my Old Daddy had kidnapped me.
I can’t say I’ve given much thought to how I ended up with Momma and my Old Daddy. There must be a story there somewhere ’cause I believe Dustin’s claim that I was born in one of Dr. Devya’s labs. Someday, I’ll have to search Dr. Devya’s dreams. Dr. Carnasis or Cora might know something as well. I need to find Cora anyway. My to-do list is getting mighty long.
Thinking of things to do, I probably ought to warn Danielle she might be in trouble. I don’t wish to worry her, but I caught part of a conversation I ain’t comfortable with.
As the ride stretched on, I began sleeping more. I tried to wake up often so I could keep an eye on the road signs. We’re headed north towards New York, the state above the money sign state. I’d been trying to contact Danielle, but as it was still afternoon, it didn’t bother me that I couldn’t find her sleeping. I noticed that the man in front of me had dozed off, so I entered his dreams.
Since Danielle was still a priority in my mind, I automatically pushed past the man’s dream about a sizzling steak dinner until I found mention of my friend.
“Miss Matheson is literally the Soldier’s only friend, and he’s our best chance of getting to the Minder.” I thought the voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t catch a sense of the speaker, telling me the words musta come through a phone.
“Are you sure the threat will work, sir?” asked Mr. Jones. “I thought the Soldier was supposed to avoid emotional attachments.”
I cleared a space and willed Mr. Jones’s mind to show me his avatar in that moment so I could study his expressions. The serious image came complete with a phone, but I blocked the sound from the phone ’cause it echoed after the other man’s words.
“That was the original intent,” the other man admitted. “But the first results were disastrous.”
“In what way?”
“The projects formed were also given growth and development hormones, but Dr. Devya was right. The chemicals conflicted with the genetic alterations.” The other man sounded like he wasn’t surprised one bit by that. “The projects were psychopaths and most of the results were cleansed before they could kill more than each other.”
I paused the dream to absorb the horrible word “cleansed” and mourn the kids it represented.
When I let the dream continue, Mr. Jones made a noise acknowledging the other man’s words.
“Do you want me to pursue her now?”
“No. I have another asset in place. The paperwork’s ready for you to collect the Dreamer. We’ll need her and the Soldier to get to the Minder. We already have the Telepathist, but he’s not been much help.”
The rest of the dream held nothing but Mr. Jones telling his boss he would carry out the orders. Since I didn’t need to see the rest of Mr. Jones’s memories, I woke up to check our progress. After determining that we were still barreling north on 287, I let myself drift again. Cars are mighty good at rocking a body to sleep.
I had a lot of work to do, but the day had tuckered me out enough to need a real nap. As I sank into sleep, I thought about Momma and made a note to ask Malia to help her. She’d need to be there in person to help best, but if I could get the timing right where Momma, Malia, and I were all asleep, I could probably tap into Malia’s Gift for Momma. Nadia taught me the theory of how to tap such Gifts, but I can’t say I’ve practiced much.
My worry for Momma musta gone a lot deeper than I thought ’cause it dug up one of my own memory storms. I don’t know if everybody records memories as infants, but I suppose it ought not surprise me that I did since I saw one of Nadia’s infant memories a few months ago.
When I finished ordering the memory fragments, Maisha filled my mind. The thought of her made me stretch my Gift to search for he
r. I found her dream almost immediately and knew it had been prepared for me.
The dream opened into a cozy cabin with a big couch stretched in front of a blazing fire. Maisha sat in a rocking chair close to the fire’s right side holding a baby. Keeping her eyes on the infant, Maisha spoke.
“You was a mighty fine baby, Miss Jillian.”
“How did you know I was here?” I wondered, forming an avatar on the couch directly in front of the fire.
“Chile, when you wait for something with your whole self for as long as Maisha has, you gets real familiar with those thoughts,” Maisha explained. She smiled and met my avatar’s eyes. “And Miss Nadia don’t call ya a loud thinker without cause, honey.”
“What am I supposed to see?” I asked.
“First, come see this beautiful baby,” Maisha suggested. “When you gets good an’ ready, she an’ I will show ya what we can of yer past.”
I got off the couch and walked to the rocking chair. The infant version of me wore a white cap and a onesie and had her hands curled up under her chin. I’d seen pictures of me like that, but this was far different. The baby breathed slowly, and her long fingers waved like water weeds caught in a gentle current.
As soon as my avatar’s fingers brushed the back of the baby’s hand, a different memory began. I got sucked into a hospital room where somebody had frozen everything except Maisha. Momma lay on the bed looking out of it. A nurse hovered near her. It surprised me that my Old Daddy and the doctor weren’t in the room.
Maisha held two babies swaddled up tight in those white blankets and caps. She walked over to Momma like it was natural to have the world frozen around her. Then, she placed one of the two babies in Momma’s arms.
“Miss Allison, you take good care of that little’un. She gonna do great things when she grows. Don’t you fret none about yer boy neither. We’s got a fine family picked out for him.”
I yanked my thoughts back to Maisha’s cabin. My avatar’s hand jerked back from the baby like she’d grown fangs and bit me.
“Momma had a boy.” Emotions ain’t supposed to affect me as strongly in dreams unless I want ’em to, but the shock of that news cleared out most of my senses. “What happened to the boy?”
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