To Run With the Swift

by Gerald N. Lund

  “Heck, yeah,” I drawled, “and about half the county. We even call the lizards and scorpions by their first names.”

  That brought another wave of laughter.

  To Rick: “So what do you do when you want to order in pizza?”

  Rick didn’t hesitate. “If you want it hot, you call Denver and they drop it in by parachute. If you don’t mind reheating it, UPS delivers in three days.”

  Cierra laughed with the audience. She was liking this too.

  Not waiting for her next question, I spoke up. “It probably sounds pretty awful to a New Yorker, where your population density is 27,532 persons per square mile. But in our whole county, we don’t even average 2 people per square mile.” I had checked this out on Google earlier this morning, wondering if she might talk about Hanksville.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Even on a windy day, you can spit in any direction and not worry about hitting anyone. I wouldn’t try that in New York City if I were you.”

  As the audience roared, I saw Clay flash me a thumbs-up. I could even see a touch of respect in Cierra’s eyes. I was learning how to play an audience too. And my little “cowgirl-from-Hanksville” routine was working like a charm. I could see she didn’t like being upstaged.

  Cierra let the laughter die, smiling and seemingly enjoying the moment too. Then suddenly she went serious and leaned in toward me. “Is your family wealthy, Danni?”

  “I—” I looked at her more closely to see if she was serious. She was. “Heavens no,” I exclaimed. “Why would you think that?”

  “Well, if you’re not wealthy, why would El Cobra and his gang ask for a twenty-million-dollar ransom for your family?”

  Several things registered at once. The audience reaction was that of shock. But it was nothing compared to what I saw on Clay’s face. His jaw was slack. Dad was clearly dumbfounded. Grandpère was staring at her. The amount of the demanded ransom had never been made public. “Substantial” was all the FBI had ever admitted.

  “Well,” Cierra prodded, a touch smug now. “That was the amount they asked for, right?”

  “I ...” I glanced at Clay and saw him nod. “Yes. But that was not money my family had. My father is a mining consultant, and he and my grandfather discovered a mine with a rich seam of precious ore and—”

  She glanced at her notes. “Rhodium, I understand. Which has sold for as much as ten thousand dollars an ounce. Correct?”

  Whistles of amazement from someone out in front of us.

  I went on doggedly. “We had arranged to sell the mine to a large Canadian firm for twenty million dollars. Somehow El Cobra learned about that, and his plan was to have the money transferred to an offshore bank account once the deal was completed.”

  “But you and Rick thwarted that plan. El Cobra never got the twenty million. So haven’t you become a very rich young woman?”

  “No. The Canadians backed out. And besides, it’s not my money,” I blurted.

  She went right on as if I hadn’t spoken. “This is a part of the story we haven’t heard about. Cinderella times twenty million. Every girl’s dream. Poor little girl from Hanksville, Utah, suddenly becomes fabulously wealthy. Better gear up, Danni. You’re going to have a string of suitors from Denver to Los Angeles.”

  “We don’t have it anymore,” I said, feeling my face growing hotter. “There was an explosion at the mine. We cannot get the ore. What’s left of it.”

  That startled her. Her eyes narrowed. “An explosion?”

  “Yes,” Rick broke in, and I could see he was trying to hold his temper. “An explosion. You know, like ‘Boom!’ The mine was totally destroyed.”

  We had thrown her off her game and she didn’t like it. She flashed an angry look at her producer, who was as surprised as she was. She took a quick breath, assessing quickly. Again she glanced down at her notes for a moment, then went on. “Rick, in the closing picture of the introductory segment, you were on crutches. It was mentioned that you were shot. That was on the last day, right? Just before El Cobra took off with Danni and her grandfather?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell us what happened.”

  “I have told that story several times now on national TV. Is there something I haven’t already said that you’re interested in?”

  There was a flash of irritation, but she nodded. “Was Danni injured in any way in that attack?”

  “No. He knocked her around a little, but—oh. He did strike her with the back of his hand and cut her face with his ring.”

  Without conscious thought, my left hand came up and touched my cheek. I jerked it away as I saw they had my face on the monitors.

  “And so you went after him?”

  There was a brief nod.

  “And he shot you.”

  “Yes. With a pistol.”

  “Did you actually see that happen?” she asked me.

  “Of course.”

  “And what did you do?”

  That was a condescending question. “What do you think I did? I screamed. We all screamed. My mother leaped up to help Rick. I tried to get to him too, but Armando stopped me.”

  “Armando? Is that El Cobra’s name?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were on a first-name basis with him?”

  “What? No, of course not. His wife called him that several times. I didn’t.”

  “Oh. Just wondering. We learned from Rick yesterday that you were still wearing your swimsuit at that time. Correct?”

  I was reeling. What was she after here? Alarm bells were clanging in my head, but I wasn’t sure why. “I was. So what?” I shot back.

  “Was this a bikini?”

  I just stared at her. “No, it was a tankini. It looks more like a one-piece bathing suit.”

  “I know what a tankini is,” she said dryly.

  “Does that matter?”

  “Was Armando—” she emphasized the first name deliberately—“coming on to you at that point? Was that why Rick went after him?”

  The question shocked me, even though I should have guessed that was where she was going with this. “How would I know that?”

  “Oh, come on, Danni. A woman just knows. Don’t play coy with me.”

  “She answered your question,” Rick broke in tartly. “Let’s move on.”

  She had expected the hot-button reaction from me—even seemed to be deliberately goading me for a reaction—but Rick going on the offensive took her by surprise. She chose to ignore him. “You said he kissed you. But it wasn’t a kiss of passion. It was a kiss of domination.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s when you knocked him flying. Your words, not mine.”

  “That’s right.” I was wary now. She was leading me again, and I wasn’t sure where or why.

  “So just how did you do that?”

  “How did I do what?”

  “How did you knock him flying? Did you strike him with your fists?”

  “Uh ... no.”

  “Did you shove him with your hands?”

  “I ... um ... things were happening so fast, I just remember him stumbling backwards and falling over a chair and ...”

  “Wait. On the Today show you told them you knocked El Cobra flying. Now you’re saying he just stumbled backwards? Which is it?”

  Before I could answer, she held up her hands. “Never mind. It was an incredibly brave thing you and Rick did, Danni. Incredibly brave. I don’t mean to push you on the details.”

  The applause signs came on and the audience erupted. She and I looked at each other, me breathing hard, her calm and unruffled. And in her eyes I could see that she was setting me up for the next surprise.

  She smiled at the audience and the cameras. “We have to take a commercial break, but when we come back, we would like to introduce you to
the third hero in this unbelievable story of courage and resistance. I think you’ll find him as delightful and amazing as Katniss and Peeta.” As the applause began, she waved and called out, “Don’t go away. We’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER 19

  “So, Cody,” Cierra said with an engaging smile. “Welcome to Life Is Real.”

  He shot her a wide grin. “Thank you, Cierra.” The audience laughed. You would have thought he and Cierra were old buds from the chatty tone of his voice.

  “How old are you, Cody?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “And you were with your mother that night when El Cobra’s gang came? I think you had been to Denver that day?”

  “Yes. They were waiting for us when we got home.”

  “And what were your first thoughts when you saw them?”

  He looked surprised by the question. “What the heck are these guys doing in here?”

  She laughed, as did the audience. “And Danni and your grandfather and father were not with you at that time.”

  “No. They came about an hour later.”

  “Tell us about how you and Danni escaped from the house. I understand that it happened twice, actually. How were you able to do that?”

  He glanced at me, and I tried to warn him with my eyes. No mention of being invisible. No mention of the pouch.

  His answer was to turn back to our hostess. But I shouldn’t have underestimated him. We had gone over this with Clay. Cierra didn’t interrupt him as he described our first escape to the attic, then being caught again. All he said about the pistol was that it went off by accident, which allowed him and me to take off and hide in the barn.

  Finally, Cierra broke in. “So you and Danni hid in this fort that you and your friend had made, while the gang was tramping right over the top of you.”

  “Yep. It was a dang good fort.”

  “Amazing,” she said, looking out at the audience. They took that as their signal and warmly applauded. Cody gave them a little bow. The ham.

  “This story has so many astonishing aspects.” She was speaking to the audience. “Some years ago, Larry King of CNN interviewed Tom Clancy, the best-selling author of such techno thrillers as The Hunt for Red October. Since Clancy had also written some nonfiction books, King asked him if there was a difference between writing fiction and nonfiction. Clancy’s answer was classic. He said, ‘Yes, there is. Fiction has to be believable.’”

  We all laughed at that. Cierra let it die, then focused on Cody again. “If this were a novel we were talking about, people would say the whole thing was too fantastic, too unbelievable to sell. But it really happened to you, didn’t it?”

  “It felt pretty real when it was happening,” Cody said soberly.

  “I’ll bet it did,” she said. She leaned forward. Not good. I was learning that was the sign that she was going for the jugular. “Can I ask you a couple of questions about all this, Cody? See if we can clarify some things for our viewers.”

  “Sure.” He was jaunty as he smiled at her. “Ask away.”

  “Is it true that you and Danni hid under some old blankets in the attic the first time?”

  “Yes. It was a playhouse me and Danni had made when we were younger.”

  I was watching her closely. Here it comes, I thought, tensing.

  “But didn’t El Cobra come up into the attic looking for you?”

  Now even Cody saw where she was going with this. “Yes?” he said slowly.

  “And he didn’t think to look under those blankets?”

  “We were in a corner of the attic,” I broke in. “For some reason, the lights in the attic wouldn’t turn on.”

  She glared at me. “I’d like Cody to answer if you don’t mind, Danni.”

  Cody shrugged. “It was really dark and all they had were flashlights.”

  “And they didn’t think to shine them in your direction?”

  “Yeah ... they ... um ... they did, but they didn’t see us.”

  “Really?” There was no mistaking the disbelief in her voice. But she let it pass. “So they caught you again, and took you back in the house. Tell me more about this pistol that you said went off. Where did it come from?”

  “It was in Danni’s purse.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Her purse?”

  No, Cody! No. No. No.

  “Tell me about this purse of hers. No one has mentioned that before. Is that the same as the pouch we’ve heard about?” She turned to me. “Is it?”

  “Pouch?” I echoed dumbly.

  “Yes, Danni,” she said with a condescending sneer. “The pouch that was given to you by your grandfather on your thirteenth birthday. I believe it is a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation. The pouch that your friends call the Nanny Pouch. The pouch that has the French words Le Gardien embroidered on the flap, which in English means, ‘The Guardian.’” Her eyes bored into mine. “That’s the pouch I’m talking about. Would you care to comment about that?”

  I felt like the room was spinning around me. How could she know all this? Had they sent someone to Hanksville to talk to my friends? But if that were the case, my friends would have told me. I was still getting texts and posts on Facebook and Tweets all the time from back home. The whole town was following our every movement in New York.

  Cierra was triumphant as she turned back to Cody. “Since Danni seems to have lost her voice at the moment, I’ll ask you, Cody. Is that the purse you mean?”

  He looked at me. I nodded at him to continue. There was nothing we could do about it now.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And why hadn’t El Cobra found this pistol before? Didn’t he search Danni when they first caught her and brought her into the house?”

  “I ...” He shrugged. “Things were pretty crazy about then, Cierra, so I’m not sure.”

  Good answer, Code.

  She grudgingly acknowledged that. “Okay. So how did this pistol come to start firing bullets, which allowed you and Danni to escape a second time?”

  “El Cobra decided it wasn’t loaded and tossed it on the table, and it went off.”

  “How many times?”

  Rick jumped in again. “Do you really think they were counting at that point?” he asked in disgust.

  “All right,” she said, her mouth hard. “Let’s stop playing games here, shall we? We’ve got all kinds of things that don’t seem to add up in this story, and either this is because the story is fictional”—there was a collective gasp from the audience—“or because Danni and Cody and Rick are holding information back. I think the latter is the case.”

  I was in full panic mode now and looked out at the front row of the audience. Mom and Dad were rigid with shock. Clay’s seat was empty, and I wondered when he had left and where he had gone. To call Joel, maybe. Grandpère’s head was down. He was making a steeple with his fingers and staring at it.

  Cierra picked up the notebook and waved it at the audience. “Okay, let’s see if we can’t get to the bottom of this. About two hours before our show began, this notepad, along with an explanatory note and some substantiating documents, were delivered to our studios by FedEx messenger. The note is signed by a man claiming to be El Cobra’s personal attorney. It is a summary of testimony given to this attorney by El Cobra himself.”

  El Cobra? I felt sick. No wonder she knew so much. I wanted to look away, to close my eyes, to bolt and run. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the pad.

  “According to El Cobra, this pouch of Danni’s is an enchanted pouch.” Over the instant eruption of noise, she cried out all the louder. “That’s right. Supposedly this pouch has strange powers that allowed you, Danni McAllister, to do amazing things.” She swung back around to Cody. “Isn’t that why El Cobra and his men didn’t see you and your sister in the attic, Cody? Isn’t it true that
they were inches from your face and shined the light directly in your faces, but somehow you and Danni were rendered invisible?”

  The audience exploded. She paid them no mind. Now it was me she zeroed in on. “And isn’t it true that you literally did knock El Cobra flying after he kissed you—not with your fists, not with your hands, but by some invisible power emanating from the pouch?”

  She sat back, her chest rising and falling, her eyes bright with triumph. The producer was directing one of the cameras to swing around and film the audience. A woman in the audience jumped up and bolted from the room, a pocket-sized notebook in hand—another journalist, come to watch the Katniss and Peeta show, now racing off to call her editor?

  I turned back to Cierra. She wasn’t looking at us any longer. She was reveling in her triumph. She had done it. She had orchestrated it perfectly. After today, Life Is Real would be the most talked-about show in America. America, heck! The world. Her dark eyes glittered with excitement.

  And there I sat. What would Cierra say if she knew that I had Le Gardien folded up in my purse right now? That it was right here in the studio with her? I was tempted to yank it out and wave it in front of her face. Maybe hurl a few curses at her to see if I could rattle her.

  I didn’t, of course. I just sat there. Numbed. Speechless. Reeling like a drunk.

  And then, the calm came. Beneath my elbow, where I clutched the purse tightly against my body, I felt a gentle warmth on my skin. The calm flowed in—and with it came an idea.

  I took the purse off my shoulder and unzipped the center zipper. Cierra was instantly suspicious. I ignored her. And seeing what I was doing, the audience instantly quieted too. Every camera focused in on me. I reached inside and withdrew Le Gardien, then spread it out on my lap.

  Cierra leaned forward, her eyes glittering with excitement. “Is that it?” she exclaimed. “Is that The Guardian?”

  “Yes, it is.” I held it out to her, nearly laughing aloud as she actually shrank back a little. “Go on,” I urged. “It’s not cursed. It won’t bite you.”

  She took it, somewhat gingerly, and held it up to examine it more closely. Then she remembered where she was and turned so the cameras could focus on it. After a moment, she looked at me in wonder. “It’s warm.”