“Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”
“Please don’t try,” said Dr. Carnasis. “If Karita succeeds, it won’t matter. I’ll be safe. But if she fails, this may be our last chance to answer the threat Lanier represents.”
A short silence fell before Varick asked, “How do you want me to collect Nadia?”
The plan Dr. Carnasis described was rather simple, and to my surprise, it unfolded almost exactly as she wished. She made Varick wait until the big white truck stopped for gas. Those tanks can hold an awful lot of liquid, so filling up can take some time. When Mr. Hanley went into the store to pay, Varick pulled up on a motorcycle, broke the lock, and accepted Nadia as my Second Momma handed her down. It looked strange ’cause the skinny, frail figure of Nadia did the handing down and the sleeping form of a perfectly healthy Dr. Carnasis slid into Varick’s waiting arms.
They didn’t speak, but a lot of well-wishes got exchanged in their looks. Dr. Carnasis scrambled back to the gurney, put on new sheets and a fresh blanket, climbed under ’em, and tucked the protective folds higher. Varick rearranged the bundle of sheets and blankets holding Nadia, cutting parts into strips and tying ’em around his body so she wouldn’t slip off. It’s a good thing the gas station was deserted at that hour ’cause my brother looked highly suspicious.
As Varick drove off, Mr. Hanley saw the flapping truck door and tore out of the convenience store shouting and waving his gun. If he’d worn a hat, he woulda ripped it off, flung it to the ground, and stomped on it. He fired once to make a point, but forgot about the motorcycle when he realized the gurney still held a body. Slamming the truck doors, Mr. Hanley scrambled into the front cab and drove off before the angry gas station owner could stop him.
The next emotional spike happened about fifty minutes later. Mr. Hanley pulled the rig over to the side of the road and climbed in to call his boss. He checked the lights on the panel, but even I could tell he had no idea what he was looking at. Running a hand through his light hair, Mr. Hanley dithered for a half-minute then straightened his shoulders and pulled out his cell phone.
I had to start and stop the conversation several times before figuring out how to shape it right to hear both sides. Since the words being spoken to Mr. Hanley didn’t exist in my Second Momma’s mind, I had a harder time pulling ’em out. Eventually, I managed to move my perspective close enough to Mr. Hanley’s phone to hear the words.
Mr. Hanley launched right in.
“I know it’s not time to call yet, but the doc escaped and she had help.”
“Is the Minder still with you?” Dr. Lanier asked in a rush.
“I still have the kid,” Mr. Hanley confirmed. “I’m standing right next to her. The panel lights are all green. They’re better than before in fact.”
“Then continue as planned,” instructed Dr. Lanier. “The escape is unfortunate, but I’ll still pay you as agreed so long as you deliver the Minder on schedule.”
“I might be late.”
“Do you have a GPS?”
“I do.”
“Let me text you a new address and time. I’ll meet you there, and we can conclude our business.”
“Why the change in plan?” Mr. Hanley asked warily.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Mr. Hanley insisted. “Tell me why or I walk. Darren had eight potential buyers. I can always try my luck with them.”
“I may need to temporarily move my operation,” Dr. Lanier admitted. “It’s nothing serious, just a precaution. The Minder’s too important to leave to others. That’s why I’m paying you so well. Now, get moving.”
“You’re bringing the cash with you, right?”
“Of course not. It would take a dozen trucks to haul a fraction of the amount we discussed. You’ll get enough for travel expenses and instructions to retrieve the account numbers when we meet.”
Mr. Hanley’s sour expression said he wasn’t happy with the terms, but he mumbled agreement and hung up.
As I prepared to skip ahead again, I got shaken awake by Mr. Jones.
“Dr. Lanier wants to speak with you.”
Chapter 26:
On the Move
ITEM 210: Danielle’s sixtieth letter
Item Source: Danielle Matheson
Dear Dr. S.,
The next summons from Lanier felt different. Usually, the guard would push the cell door open then wait for me to come forth for the hand-tying exercise. This time the favored goons, Mr. Jones and Mr. Clark, burst in like commandos. Before I could do more than yelp an incoherent protest, Mr. Clark had my shoulders pinned to the squeaky cot and Mr. Jones had zip tied my hands painfully together.
“Dr. Lanier wants to see you in the library,” Mr. Clark explained as he and Mr. Jones yanked me to a standing position.
“What’s the hurry?” I wondered, making a last second switch from inquiring where they were taking me.
A shove toward the cell door was my only answer. Mr. Clark steadied me then tugged on my bound hands as a signal I should follow. With Mr. Jones breathing down my neck, I figured the timing wasn’t right for open rebellion, so I trotted after Mr. Clark. As advertised, I was led to the library and unceremoniously shoved into the large left armchair. Jillian already occupied the right leather armchair. I sat forward and shot her a questioning look but didn’t get a chance to inquire about her health because Lanier bustled in with a familiar young woman on his heels.
My emotions sampled multiple flavors of confusion.
Smiling at my expression, Lanier said, “I’m sorry I’ve not had a chance to introduce you two to my daughter. This is Tyra.”
Given the girl’s golden hair and gorgeous looks, I assumed Lanier meant the term “daughter” in a non-literal sense, but I couldn’t spare the brainpower to properly digest the issue.
Jillian just blinked at the pair.
“Hello, neighbor,” I mumbled.
Ignoring me, Tyra addressed Lanier.
“Ethan says the government people could be as little as twenty minutes away. We must leave now.”
“Go finish the preparations for our other guests. I need to speak with our young friends here.”
With a curt nod, Tyra bolted from the room. Dazed, I watched until the door clicked shut behind her. The distraction made me miss part of Lanier’s speech.
“This is important, Ashlynn!” Lanier’s sharp shout made me tune back in. “Can you work through sedatives?”
One glance at Jillian’s glazed expression told me Lanier wasn’t going to receive an answer. His callous attitude irritated me. Already on the edge of my seat, I let some of my anger figuratively escape through my ears before addressing Lanier.
“She’s not going to answer you.” I spoke slowly lest his pea-sized brain miss the point.
“Well, for your sake, I hope she’s listening.” His tone was even frostier than mine. “Ashlynn, I need you to understand something. We’re going to travel for a short while. Your friend is coming with us as are Mr. Clark and Mr. Jones. One of us will be holding the controls for Temperantia. If—”
“We get it,” I interrupted. “Best behavior, scout’s honor and all that. You seriously need to work on your people skills.”
“Do you think she can work through sedation?” Lanier asked, as if I’d not even spoken.
My brain scrambled to analyze the question, consider the answer he wanted, formulate what I actually thought, and compose something semi-sensible. If he truly didn’t want Jillian working, he should probably give her a 5-hour energy drink or something else that would interfere with sleep.
“I don’t know. I think her Gift functions if she’s in a deep sleep, but light sedation might contain it,” I lied. Jillian has never discussed the mechanics of her Gift with me, but I was betting that less drugs in her system would be better than more.
Lanier stared at me like a man weighing a million-dollar question.
I clamped down on the urge to say more.
“Th
at sounds … reasonable,” Lanier said finally. “Mr. Jones 50 milligrams ought to be enough. See to it then pack them in the green minivan.” Instructions delivered, Lanier left.
The silver object Mr. Jones pulled out of his pocket looked like the world’s tiniest handgun. He flipped up a safety cap on the front and adjusted a setting at the back. I caught sight of a tiny needle as he moved to plunge the thing into Jillian’s right arm. The kid didn’t even peep.
“Wait!” The rest of whatever I might have said vaporized as Jillian’s head slowly tipped left. Springing to my feet, I dropped to my knees before her chair, picked up her hands, and held them as tightly as I could. I wasn’t even aware I was crying until somebody lifted me to my feet. Clearing my vision with a swift swipe, I saw Mr. Jones fiddling with the silver injection gun again. I backed into Mr. Clark.
“Stand still. I don’t want to hurt you with this,” said Mr. Jones.
Drawing on the liberal amounts of anger flooding my being, I regarded Mr. Jones coldly.
“Do you really want to carry me?”
He hesitated.
“I’m going wherever Jillian goes anyway. I may as well walk there.” Cora must have forgotten to add “reckless impulsivity” to my list of attributes. I have no idea why I was attempting to make things easier on my captors. It would have served them right to have to drag my unconscious body across the mansion, but I needed to stay awake to watch over Jillian.
“It will go faster,” Mr. Clark admitted.
Mr. Jones tucked the injector gun away and instructed Mr. Clark to pick up Jillian.
“Let me carry her.”
The men ignored my offer. It’s probably for the best. I’m not sure what prompted me to make the offer in the first place, and I don’t know if I had the strength to follow through. Jillian likely doesn’t weigh much more than Katy, but the trek to the garage would involve a lot of stairs and many long rooms.
When we got to the minivan, Mr. Jones sliced through the zip tie and handed me a blanket.
“Get settled in the back. You can sit with her. It’s probably best you stay conscious for a while in case there are roadblocks. Keep your hands out of sight and your mouth shut.”
The prospect of roadblocks thrilled and frightened me. Hope lightened my steps as I threaded my way to the back bench and sat on the far left side. Mr. Clark laid Jillian in the middle seat and adjusted the belt.
As he started to retreat, I said, “Please, take the cuffs off her.” When Mr. Clark started to shake his head, I asked, “What good are they on her?”
“She’ll be easier to carry,” replied Mr. Clark.
“You won’t need to carry her for a long time, and the longer they stay on, the deeper the marks are going to be. Good luck hiding those if we get to a public place.”
My argument won Jillian’s hands their freedom. It was a small victory, but one I desperately needed. After loosening the seat belt and turning her sideways, I laid Jillian across my lap and supported her head with my left arm. Bowing my head, I whispered to her.
“Well, kid, we’re on the move. I hope you can work like this because we’re going to need some miracles soon.”
Jillian felt warm to my touch, so I pushed the blanket down to her lap and brushed her hair away from her face. Slowly, her soft, even breaths relaxed me.
A few minutes later, Lanier climbed into the driver’s seat. Mr. Jones and Mr. Clark piled into the two middle seats, and Tyra slipped into the front passenger seat. Nobody spoke as Lanier backed out of the garage and turned around on the gravel driveway. It’s hard to describe my feelings in that moment. I certainly had no love for the place or what it represented, but by then, it had become the familiar evil. Packed into a minivan with the chief nut, his daughter, and his top two lieutenants was not an improvement. I didn’t even have a conscious friend to hear my complaints. I couldn’t decide whether to envy her the oblivion or cherish my waking state.
The Minivan Cargo,
Danielle Matheson.
Chapter 27:
The Debate
ITEM 211: Jillian’s 104th post-kidnapping journal entry
Item Source: Jillian Blairington
I wanted to thank Danielle for suggesting the light dose of knockout drugs, but even that small dose worked at a zippy pace. Strangely, the chemical almost locked my Gift for pulling in real world events in the “on” position. I heard everything from Danielle’s argument with Mr. Jones and Mr. Clark over not being knocked out to her private words to me once we were tucked in the van.
Only once we were well on our way did I attempt to awaken. I rose close to consciousness, but I couldn’t manage the last step. It was like being a fish stuck in a bowl that some meanie had place a glass plate over. I woulda panicked if I hadn’t expected that might happen. Instead of wearing myself out trying to wake up, I went the other way and sank into a working sleep. I placed a mark on Danielle and the real-world dream in the minivan in case I needed to return to it quickly.
As I reached for my Second Momma’s dreams to check on her, I felt the invitation to join Nadia in her throne room. If I’d had my body, every sign of shock woulda been written on my face. Forming an avatar, I relaxed into the dream and let it carry me to Nadia.
When my avatar awoke, I was lying flat on my back staring up at those sparkly crystal chandeliers that hold so many memories. Naidine entered my field of vision from the right, Queen Elena smiled down at me from the left, and Nadia herself peeked in from above. The upside down view bothered me, so I reformed the avatar standing and facing the three very different versions of my sister. The move caused Queen Elena and Naidine to switch sides, but Nadia held my full attention. Everything I wanted to say got stuck, so I simply tackled Nadia with a hug.
“I think she is happy to see us,” observed Naidine.
I responded by launching myself at her. When I finally let go, I spun to face Queen Elena, but I stopped myself, as I didn’t think it would be proper to tackle a queen even to give a long-overdue hug.
“Propriety has no place in happy reunions,” said Queen Elena, holding her arms open to receive the hug.
“I missed you all,” I declared, finally stepping back and taking in the sight of the three of ’em.
Naidine looked vibrant and strong as usual. Queen Elena appeared elegant and serene. I frowned when I got to Nadia ’cause she was thin and unsteady on her feet. Imagining a comfortable armchair, I ordered her to sit. The way she folded onto the chair worried me.
“Perhaps we should join her,” Queen Elena suggested.
Three matching chairs appeared. Finding no fault with the idea, I sat along with the others. I had to grip the chair hard when it started moving on its own. The chairs rearranged themselves so Nadia sat in the center with Naidine and Queen Elena to either side, while my chair moved me out in front like somebody being brought before a judge.
Knowing the direction of my thoughts, Naidine explained, “You are not on trial today. You are a witness and an impartial moderator.”
She had to explain what her last two words meant, but I started to understand that they wanted me to listen while they had a discussion.
Nadia provided an overview of the situation.
“Jillian, I am with Varick now and almost awake, but I cannot stay with him. I must make a choice, a very difficult choice.”
“What kind of choice?” I asked warily.
“We are duty-bound to return to Father,” said Queen Elena.
Naidine shook her head.
“If we have any duty, it is with Dr. Carnasis. She faces danger in our stead.”
“Father will know how to help her. He has resources beyond Varick,” argued Queen Elena.
“Dr. Devya is also untrustworthy swine.”
Naidine’s comment shocked me ’cause I’d never heard Nadia utter a negative thing about anybody.
“This is a fact, not a slight,” Naidine stated, sensing my surprise.
“The nature of Father’s character does no
t change the terms of the bargain that allows Jillian and Malia their freedom.” Queen Elena’s compassion flowed through each word. “If he suspects we may not return, he might move against them.”
“Jillian is already a prisoner,” Naidine remarked.
“But Malia is happy. Can we risk the life she has built?”
“A few days will not change Malia’s fate,” Naidine soothed. “If Dr. Devya would hold a few days’ delay against her, then his soul is truly lost.”
“All souls can be redeemed,” said Queen Elena. “The Gray Lady is proof of this.”
“Who’s ‘The Gray Lady’?” I wondered. The title sounded like something from one of Varick’s video games, but I couldn’t place it.
“I believe you will meet her soon,” Nadia offered. “But first, please tell me your thoughts on these matters.”
“I agree with everybody.” I held up both hands in a plea for patience while I tried to explain. Locking eyes on Nadia, I continued, “If you feel ya gotta go back, then that’s that, but Naidine’s also right, Dr. Carnasis may need your help. I doubt Dr. Devya even knows you’re free yet, so ya probably have time to help her. How do you plan on helping?”
Nadia wouldn’t meet my gaze. Propping her left elbow on the arm of the chair, she lowered her forehead into her palm.
“A trade.”
“Now you ain’t talking sense,” I declared. “Dr. Carnasis let herself get caught so Varick could take you far away from Dr. Lanier.”
“It is a foolish plan,” Queen Elena admitted with a shrug.
“But what else can we do?” demanded Naidine.
“We cannot let her die for us,” Nadia finished miserably, still clutching her head.
She was making me mad. I equally wanted to hug her and shake her.
“Why not? She’s offered you everything! Take it. Don’t you understand who you are and what you’re worth to the world?” I didn’t realize I’d shaped the dream until only Nadia and my avatar and the empty throne room remained. She was weeping on the floor. I knelt before her and spoke in a kinder tone. “Your Gifts can help or harm. Dr. Carnasis is trying to keep you free. Don’t throw that away.”
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