by Martha Carr
He had started to be happy again.
Wallis had given him all the time he needed to ask questions. They started out at the round kitchen table with Alan Vitek and his grandmother. Harriet interjected with opinions more than anything and Alan didn’t say anything unless someone asked him a direct question.
Ned wanted to know the precise time his father had been wrestled out of the church parking lot. He sat there quietly, placing himself in that same moment. He had been sitting through his honors physics class, wondering about M-theory and quantum mechanics. Everything is affected by the way I see it, he thought.
I was imagining what I could do with that and trying not to pay attention to Cindy Burke across the room. Dad was being dragged into a van, wondering if that was his last moment. He went from being solidly in Richmond, Virginia to being put first in one city, and then another.
What did his mother say? His dad was in New York City for a couple of days and then moved to somewhere in Chicago. Ned wanted to know why they weren’t busting in to get him if they knew where he was being held. That made no sense.
Harriet had said, “Norman would be dead before the door was all the way open.” His mother had blanched, her eyes growing wide for a moment before she tried to recover her serene, control mode. But Ned had seen it.
He wished she would let him see more of that side. Wallis’ desire to never let him share any of her pain, her troubles left him outside of a lot of her world. She never seemed to notice.
He wanted to know their plans to set his dad free and bring him home. Bring him home as soon as possible.
“We’re playing the long game,” said his grandmother. “It’s the only way to stay in one piece, and especially when it’s George Clemente.
Ned looked at Alan Vitek, sitting back in his chair, so calm. Too calm for Ned. “Why are you here?” he asked him, an edge in his voice. Wallis had opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind.
Alan raised an eyebrow and seemed to take his time coming up with an answer. “Sometimes when you’re in the middle of the worst part of things it can be like standing with your nose against the wallpaper. You can’t help it and it’s the way it should be. You care about the people involved. But all the same, you miss the pattern. You miss the opportunities. That’s where an outside observer comes in handy. I can point them out, answer any questions, do the jobs that need to get done,” said Alan, leaning forward, resting his arms on the table.
“You a part of the Circle?” asked Ned.
“No, I’m not, and no, I’m not part of Management either.”
“How does that happen? I thought you had to choose sides. Didn’t you say we were stuck in the middle of this thing?” asked Ned, looking at his mother.
“Literally, dear,” said Harriet. “You and your mother were born right into the middle of things. An heir to both sides. A kind of royalty, really,” she said, pursing her lips.
His mom rolled her eyes.
“Not royalty,” said Wallis, “more like conscripted by birth. I used to think there had to be a way out. How can anyone have to be a part of this insanity? But…that was a mistake,” she said, more quietly.
“Is that how we ended up here?” asked Ned, sounding angrier than he intended. He knew his mother would take that personally.
“Yes, I believe it is,” she said, lifting her chin. “I made a mistake and I didn’t ask for help sooner. That changes now. Matter of fact, frankly, a lot has to change and not just so we can survive, which we have to,” she said, looking squarely at Ned, “but so we can choose for ourselves what we want to do. I didn’t see that till now. We spent so much time pushing away what someone was trying to do to us we stopped dreaming. I don’t know, maybe that was me.”
That was a surprise.
Eventually Alan left them, saying, “My wife will be holding dinner for me. I should get going. I’m available if needed.” Ned noticed he had never raised his voice, never got angry no matter what Ned said to him, or how he said it. Wallis told him it was a lot of meditation.
Harriet started to sag back into her chair and her entire face took on a tilt toward her right side. It took some convincing but Ned finally helped her get up the stairs and go to bed.
He tucked her in and she grabbed his hand, pulling him close. “The bastards won’t win. I’ll fight till I’m in the grave. No one should doubt that, least of all George Clemente. I’ll carve him up before I see him hurt anyone in my family. You’d think he’d have learned that lesson.”
Ned wanted to ask her what she meant but she had already let go of his hand and leaned back against her pillow, shutting her eyes.
“Ned,” said Wallis, standing in the doorway of Harriet’s bedroom. “Come with me. There’s so much more to tell you.”
They had camped out on his parents’ bed, pulling the covers back and piling the bed with pillows from his room. His mother looked around at the big bed, and looked at Ned sitting on the end of the bed, pillows in his lap.
“You look so much like your father,” she said, tears in her eyes. “He would be so proud of you.” She shook her head, shutting her eyes for a moment, brushing away a tear. “He is proud of you and he will want to hear every detail of what has been happening while he’s away.”
“Held hostage,” said Ned, determined to lay the truth bare. Wallis looked at him for a long moment.
“That’s right, held hostage against his will. And by a madman whose only interest is in having power over other people. That’s his downfall. You want power that badly you’re not going to be willing to share,” said Wallis. “That’s our strength when we use it. Look, there’s a lot to tell you about the past, about last year, about what’s happening now. But I need to tell you something. A selfish need to let you know something. Humor me for a minute and then I’ll let it go. I thought it was my job to keep you safe, and when you were small, I guess it was.”
“But I’m not small anymore,” he said, setting his jaw.
“I can see that. I got so distracted by everything outside of this house that I didn’t really get that, till now. But when you become a parent someday you’ll find out that once you have children your heart lives outside of your body for the rest of your life. Not a bad thing. Makes us better humans.”
“Stops us from being George Clemente,” said Ned, his face twisting in anger.
“That’s right, it does. Then there comes this moment when your child crosses over and wants to stand on his own two feet. I could hardly believe it was time and in the middle of all of this chaos.”
“Do you think Grandma felt that way about you?” asked Ned.
“That is hard to say. Grandma still shoots over my shoulder, with her mouth and her gun.” They both let out a laugh and Ned felt the weariness come across him. He laid down on the bed on his father’s side. Wallis laid down next to him, brushing a lock of his hair out of his eyes.
“Let me get on with things. It’s late and we’re tired and there’s a lot of ground to cover. A few hundred years ago a village in Germany had a good idea that eventually went sour,” she said.
It took her over an hour to tell him about the fake William Reitling and the real start of a powerful middle class that grew into Management. An old diary, the start of the Kreise in 1918 that was now called the Circle, his Uncle Tom and his grandmother as Keepers, his grandfather Walter. It was a lot to take in and there was still more. “If you’re really going to be able to help, then you need to know everything,” said his mother. She told him about Mother Elizabeth and the Butterfly Project and the list of recruits.
That much, at least, he already knew more than his mother realized he did. Ever since they had travelled to the Midwest after that woman from Management, Robin Spingler tried to hunt them down. They had taken refuge on an orphanage outside of Chicago. The same place where they had dropped off Trey and Will Schaeffer with their dad, Robert. It was a safe place for them to hide from Management while they grew up.
Then there w
as Juliette Berens. She had told him what she knew about the project.
He met her on the next to last day they were there. She was a month older and had hair that was so curly it sprang out like coils from her head, hanging down her back. Seeing her made his chest hurt. She was the first person that showed any interest in him and wasn’t related to him. It was exhilarating, mixing the chemicals inside of his brain making his feel lightheaded. It was hard to find the right words around her. All he wanted to do was listen.
He sat next to her for hours, listening to her talk, trying to work up the nerve to ask her if he could hold her hand. Instead, in the end he kissed her goodbye. His first kiss.
The kiss left him feeling overwhelmed, confused, exhilarated, stressed. A cocktail of emotions.
He sat back from his computer and closed his eyes, picturing Juliette again. He was in the habit of playing those few days together over and over when he needed someplace to retreat to that could always make him happy. Still make him happy.
I liked things about her that are unique to her, he thought.
It was her taste in certain things that first caught his attention more than anything else about her. She was interested in bands, and movies and music that he had never heard of but ended up finding out he liked it all. His iTunes was full of Young the Giant, Atlas Genius and A Giant Dog because of her. She had a unique perspective and even more important, she shared with him the one thing he needed more than anything else.
She was inside the Circle and had grown up with the same version of fairy tales mixed with guns and Watchers and ancient relics everybody was after that he had, even if he didn’t know about it all till recently. He didn’t have to hide anything from her, and he didn’t have to explain. She just got him, got it all.
Even the places where they were different became something to trust each other with instead of push them apart.
Her father was a no-show from the beginning and her mother gave up custody of Juliette to the state after one too many drug convictions. Juliette was eight when she was put into foster care but she ran away from every one of the homes. Finally, she was recommended to the residential education facility, the modern day orphanage, by her social worker.
She hated it at first. So many kids of every age and almost no parents ever came to visit. It took her at least a year before she was willing to trust anyone.
“What changed your mind?” asked Ned.
“No matter how many times I got angry at them, no one yelled back. What about you? What’s your story?”
Ned blushed, trying to tell her about having two parents who were always in his business, never telling him much of anything. Fortunately, Juliette had laughed and told him she had house parents who did the same thing. “Besides,” she said, “it sounds like your parents taught you the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You get angry and they stop what they’re doing to listen.”
Ned was sure he loved her from that moment. It was exactly what his dad said it would be. Love is something that makes everything else seem possible.
After that, Ned hatched a plan to stay in touch.
Everyone exchanged phone numbers and Ned set up a secure line for them to be able to FaceTime as a group. Apple encrypted everything beyond what even Management could crack open. It helped that no one was paying much attention to most of them.
Still, Ned realized that he was the biggest security risk in the group and if anyone was ever able to tie them together it would become dangerous for everyone.
Eventually Jake Whiting, who was living in Montana with his family, was brought into the group. He told them all about saving the soldier’s life that last winter.
The war had come across their land and Jake ended up keeping watch with an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle. He had even met Ned’s Uncle Tom running just ahead of the enemy troops. He had met the Keeper.
Over time, these four had all formed a bond and made a pact, almost at once, that they would share any information they came across, no matter what.
Ned was determined to keep his promise. He dialed in at their usual time. Every Monday and Friday at eleven-thirty pm Eastern Standard time. It was late enough so that parents were tucked in but not so late they fell asleep waiting for the appointed hour. Not everyone made every dial in but it was enough to stay in touch and keep up to date with any gossip about Management or the Circle.
They had all agreed that the adults were playing with their futures without telling them enough of the story. His mother had gone a long way toward changing that tonight but it had taken her a while and not without a crisis.
“Jake, are you there? I have news. They have my dad,” he said in a rush of words. He felt his chest tighten and sat back from the screen.
Jake’s face appeared in a box on the upper right hand corner followed by Trey Schaeffer in another box.
“What do you mean they have your dad? Who has your dad?” asked Trey. “Stop pushing Will,” he said, shoving someone just off screen.
Now that Ned had said it he realized he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to give details. Every word made it more real and made him wonder if his dad was okay. If he was even still alive.
“Ned?” asked Jake. “What’s going on?”
“Dude, what’s happened to your dad?” asked Trey. He could see Will walking back and forth behind him.
“Some men kidnapped him three days ago. He’s being held prisoner in some neighborhood outside of Chicago.”
“Near me, wow,” said Trey.
“That is not near us,” said Will, who pushed his face momentarily in front of the screen. “That’s not near us. We’re not in Chicago.”
“It’s closer than anyone else,” said Trey, shoving his brother out of the way. “Find someone else to bother. Read a comic book. Jughead needs your help.”
Jake put his face a little closer to the screen. “Hey, what do you know?”
“They want my mother to give some speech. They gave her a picture of him to prove he’s alive and he looked alright. That was when they had him in New York City. But they moved him to Chicago. I don’t know if they’ve moved him again. I guess I don’t know much.”
“Who is they?” asked Trey.
“It’s George Clemente,” said Ned. His head was starting to ache.
“Oooh, that dude is evil,” said Trey. “He killed my mother,” he said, in a voice that was full of pain.
“Smart Trey,” said Will, somewhere off camera.
“It’s okay, Will,” said Ned. “He killed my uncle. I already know what he’s like. He’s using dad as leverage but once Mom’s given the speech there’s nothing to bargain with anymore.”
“So, you have any ideas?” asked Trey.
“Not so far.”
“Hey guys.” It was Juliette Berens. “What’s going on?”
No one answered her right away. Trey started whispering to his brother, telling him to shut up. “Why are you always in here?”
“Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?” asked Juliette. Ned could see the concern in her eyes.
“You should be the one to tell her,” said Jake. He was the oldest one of the group and generally the calmest.
Ned took a deep breath and worked up the courage to say the words again. “George Clemente has kidnapped my dad.” Tears started to roll down his face and he knew he couldn’t stop them. He hadn’t cried yet and watching Juliette’s reaction put him over the top. He hid his face in his hands and sobbed.
“Oh dude.”
“We’ll get him back.”
“What can I do to help?”
He caught his breath and wiped his face on his sleeve, sniffing loudly, not quite looking up at the faces on the screen.
“We’re your friends,” said Jake. “We will do this together.”
“That’s right,” said Juliette. “Isn’t that what we have all learned from the adults? Don’t do what they did. Ask for help early.”
> “And, I think I have a way to really hurt George Clemente without giving ourselves away,” said Jake. “Well, maybe. But I don’t know how to pull it off. That’s going to take you, Ned.”
“What is it?” asked Ned, giving another swipe to his face.
“Yeah, share,” said Trey.
“I was going through my dad’s files, looking for some stuff about Mom. Dad won’t talk about her and well, anyway, I wanted to know. Hang on.” His face disappeared from the screen and Ned could hear papers rustling. Juliette looked at Ned but didn’t say anything. There were too many people online for Ned to say what he really wanted to say to her. They’d have to find a way to talk later.
Jake came back on the screen holding a folder open, searching through papers.
“I have to hide them from my sister and brother. It’s not that they’re trouble or anything but Dad would kill me if he knew I made copies. He’s a little paranoid that way.”
“Tell me where you managed to hide them from your siblings, please,” said Trey. “I could use the help.”
“Shut up,” yelled Will from somewhere in Trey’s room. Everyone was used to Will floating around in the background during their calls. It was only Trey who seemed to mind.
“I couldn’t find anything on Mom except this old picture,” said Jake, holding up a faded Polaroid that showed a woman in jeans and a t-shirt holding a baby.
“Is that you?” asked Juliette.
“I think so. Looks like me and the year’s right.”
“Looks like a fat baby to me,” said Will, pushing in to get a look.
“This is why you’re banned from my room,” said Trey, shoving Will out of the screen again.
“Our room,” came a shout, as a door slammed.
“But, while I was in his files I came across all of this stuff,” he said, holding up a copy of a spread sheet with the names of foreign banks, dates and an endless series of small transactions.
“Bologna slicing,” said Ned, impressed.
“What is bologna slicing?” asked Trey. “Is that like you don’t want to see how it’s made?”
“That’s sausage making,” said Jake.