by Bryan Davis
Her shoulders shook as she cried, but she kept her arms wrapped around him. Her tears seemed to absorb his fiery anger, but nothing could ease his loneliness or fill the void his father’s absence created. He gently slipped his arms around her and pulled himself even closer. At last, his own tears flowed, and the two wept together.
After a minute or two, Billy pulled himself away. “I have to hurry. There’s no way to know for sure if Devin has Bonnie, so for her sake, there’s really no choice. I have to go and just hope that . . .”
“That Dad helps you,” his mother finished. She put her hand on his shoulder, and the squeeze she gave reminded him of his father’s strong grip. “He will be there,” she whispered. “I know he’ll be there.”
Billy dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded. He then hooked her arm in his and pulled her toward the guest room. “Let’s get going before I change my mind.”
Walter heard a car honk, and he jumped up from the sofa and threw open the front door. He spun back toward his mother who was sitting in a chair adjacent to the sofa. “It’s Dad!”
His father leaned his head through the driver’s window and yelled, “Walter! Come with me! I need your help.”
Walter snatched a jacket from a coat tree. “Mom! I’m going with Dad!” He thrust one arm into a sleeve while running out the door. He jumped into the front seat next to his dad and finished putting on his jacket. “What’s up, Pop?”
His father pressed the accelerator, and the car zoomed backwards. “I called everyone I could think of. Nobody’s seen her. Nobody.”
Walter snapped his seat belt in place. “So what do you need me for?”
“I drove by Bonnie’s house and did some checking. I wanted to go inside but a couple of policemen are watching the place. They wouldn’t let me in. I have my suspicions about them.”
“You think they might be working for Devin?”
His father pointed at him. “Exactly.”
Walter sat up straight, pulled one knee up to his chest, and began retying his shoe. “Say no more. I’m working on a plan!”
As they drove, Walter told his father about the note with the dubious lock of hair and how it led to Billy’s departure with his mother. When he finished his story he gave the dashboard a swift kick. “I don’t like it. It sounds like a trap.”
His dad tapped him on the knee. “I don’t like it either, but don’t take it out on the car.” As he drove he hummed a soulful rendition of Rock of Ages, adding whispered lyrics from time to time. “We’ll try to call Billy after we’re done,” he finally said. “I hope they have a cell phone with them.”
They cruised past Bonnie’s house, a small bungalow in a run-down neighborhood, and parked across the street. A bearded man in a police uniform leaned against an oak tree in the middle of the unraked lawn. Dark smudges here and there marred the house’s off-white paint, and cobwebs draped the corners of the windows.
Walter glanced at the side of the house and noticed another uniformed man poking a baton through a hedge. His officer blues were neat enough, but his hat couldn’t keep his stringy hair from hanging out around the edges.
Walter’s father pointed at another house on the left. “According to those neighbors, Bonnie’s foster parents reported her missing right away, but the police assumed she was just another teenaged runaway and never checked other possibilities.” He moved his pointing finger to indicate a house on the right. “That family heard from some guy standing in Bonnie’s yard that she’d been shipped to Montana because of her foster parents’ negligence. According to him, Bonnie’s parents were both drunk and never even noticed she was missing. The police hauled them away a couple of hours ago.”
“I’ll bet that guy was Devin or one of his men,” Walter said. “He made up a lie to get at Bonnie.”
“Could be, but how could he manipulate the police? And who are these uniformed clowns? They look like they just rolled out of a sleazy bar.”
Walter eyed the two men again. “So what do you want to do?”
“I want to go inside and look for clues.”
Walter swung open the car door and jumped out. “Leave it to me.” He sprinted toward the man leaning on the tree, panting heavily as he approached. “You’ll never . . . guess . . . what I saw!”
The man’s eyes flew open, and he stood up straight. “What?”
Walter leaned over and whispered. “A girl . . . with wings!” He flapped his arms like a drunken albatross. “Huge bat wings!”
The man stepped toward the side of the house and yelled. “Randall! Get over here!” He then turned back to Walter. “Where did you see her, kid?”
Walter waved a shaking finger toward the road. “At the middle school! Hurry!”
“Thanks kid!” The two officers dashed to a car in the driveway, backed out, and squealed away.
Walter turned toward his dad with a smirk and he spread his arms. “Not a problem!”
His father jumped from the car and hurried toward the front door. “What did you tell them?”
“Let’s just say that I told them what they wanted to hear.”
They stopped at the porch and his father looked him in the eye. “You didn’t lie to them, did you?”
Walter put his fingers on his chest. “Me? No way! Every word was true.”
His father sighed and shook his head. “Okay. I won’t ask.”
They walked into the house and scanned the cozy interior. Walter opened a door at the end of a short hallway and piped up. “This must be her room, Dad.”
They entered the small bedroom, a room so neat even the pencils on a little desk were lined up according to size. Since those goons were looking for Bonnie, Walter had expected a ransacked house with books, papers, and clothes scattered everywhere. Maybe her obvious absence kept them from trashing the place.
Walter glanced from wall to wall. A stand-up calendar, a framed photograph of a woman, and a hardcover Bible sat on top of the pockmarked desk. Blue cloth upholstery covered a thinly padded seat of the matching dark-wood chair, a decent chair for a little kid, but not for someone Bonnie’s age.
To the right of the door sat a neatly made bed, a thick blanket tucked securely all around, but the bed had no frame or headboard, and the clown characters on the blanket were better suited for a girl in kindergarten, not a teenager in middle school. Walter kicked at a circular braided rug that covered about two-thirds of the pine floor. The opposite edge abutted a dresser in the corner that had at least one pull handle missing from every drawer.
Walter’s father opened the folding doors of the medium-sized closet, revealing a shallow storage space. Bonnie’s brand new dress hung by itself on the left, and two more dresses hung on the right, along with a modest collection of blouses, sweatshirts, and jeans. On the floor sat a fairly new pair of tennis shoes, a pair of black dress shoes, and an open cardboard box filled with stuffed animals.
Walter picked up a stuffed bunny that had a newly stitched ear and threw it back in the box. “Dad, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That this house isn’t run by a couple of negligent drunks? Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.”
Walter’s dad walked over to the desk and opened its file drawer. Dozens of sheets of wrinkled notebook paper stuffed each hanging folder, some with the edges pushing out the top. He sat on the chair and rifled through the files. “I’m looking for anything that might stand out, maybe a note, any clue that Bonnie might have left behind.” He pulled out a thick handful of paper and placed the stack on the desk.
“Would she leave a note where the wrong person could find it?” Walter asked.
His father sighed and stared at one of the crisp, white sheets that had dropped onto his lap. “Good point.” He handed the fallen page to Walter. “This one looks new. Check it out for me.”
Walter began reading the neatly penciled story. An evil wizard captured a fair maiden and locked her in a windowless vault. After many brave attempts to escape, she was aided by a drago
n, who, after being transformed into a noble young man, married the damsel, and the two had many children together and lived happily ever after. The story nearly moved Walter to tears, but he didn’t let on to his father. He just handed him the sheet. “Read the last paragraph on the back.”
His father took the page and read out loud. “Such is the beauty of unshackled love. It is the beacon that finds lost sheep, the oil that fills virgins’ lamps, the seed sown on fertile soil. A heart in chains is a slave to passion; it moves and breathes by the will of another. But when it is set free, true love abounds, for the will of another can never dictate love’s free choice. Jesus said, ‘If the Son shall set you free, you shall be free indeed.’ Glorious freedom! Oh, let my heart ever be unshackled! My body, my words, and my thoughts are all His. I freely set my heart in His hands, and I have no other true love.”
He set the sheet down and sighed. “Bonnie’s dreams.” He looked up at Walter, tears welling in his eyes. “Remember what we discussed last night?”
Walter nodded. “Yeah. You and Mom made the right call. No doubt about it.”
His father stuffed the pages back in place, closed the drawer, and returned to searching the room. Walter reached for a poster taped to the wall next to the desk. It had a drawing of an angelic girl praying by her bed. Her eyes were focused upward, and the caption said, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Over by the bed, another smaller poster hung right above the pillow. It had no drawing, just a splash of rainbow colors with another Bible verse, “Call to me, and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know (Jeremiah 33:3).”
“Dad,” Walter said, holding the edge of the smaller poster. “Check out this verse. Think it’s a clue?”
“That’s probably been there for weeks. A clue would have to be something new.”
Walter placed his finger on the verse. “Yeah, but look. The first part is underlined with a red marker. Maybe Bonnie did it.”
His father leaned over and read it again. “Call to me. . . . Call to me, and I will answer you.”
Walter shrugged his shoulders. “Why not give it a try?”
“Give what a try?”
Walter gestured with his finger. “Follow me.” He jogged out of the bedroom and stood in the foyer. “Bonnie!” he shouted as his father joined him. “It’s Walter! Are you in here anywhere?”
They stood still and listened. “Was that a thump?” Walter asked.
His father cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. “Bonnie, are you in here?”
More thumps echoed over their heads and then a voice. “Walter! Wait! It’s me. I’ll be there in a minute!”
Walter felt goose bumps popping up all over his arms, and he bounced up and down on his toes. His father’s teary eyes darted all around as they listened to scratches and bumps coming from the ceiling.
Covered with clumps of pink insulation, Bonnie limped into the family room from the kitchen. She no longer used crutches, but her grimacing walk told them her knee still ached. When she saw Walter’s father, she shuffled up to him with a tired smile. He reached out for her and swung her around in a wide circle.
When he set her down, she tried to catch her breath. “I was hiding . . . in the attic. I found out . . . one of the policemen works for Devin, so I couldn’t go to them.” She wiped her dirty, wet forehead with her sleeve. “You wouldn’t believe how close they came to finding me, but it gave me a chance to hear some of their plans.”
Walter’s father brushed the crumbs of insulation out of Bonnie’s hair and a pile of pink fluff from the top of her backpack. “Let’s get out of here. You can tell us about it in the car.”
Bonnie shook more fibers from her hair. “But how will we get past the police?”
“Walter took care of that,” he replied, gesturing toward Walter with his thumb. “Devin’s pigeons flew the coop.”
Bonnie beamed at Walter and landed a friendly punch on his arm, but her smile faded the next instant. “We have to call Billy. I heard them say Devin’s going to try to lure him back to the mountain using me as bait. We have to tell Billy I’m okay so he won’t go.”
Walter shook his head. “Too late for that. Billy and his mom left at least half an hour ago.”
Bonnie’s eyes opened wide. “For the mountain?”
Walter tightened his jaw. “Yeah, whatever that creep’s plan is, it’s working so far.”
“Can’t we call Billy?” Bonnie asked, her voice growing frantic. “Do you know their number?”
Walter’s father held out his arm. “Come on. I’ll help you to the car.” Bonnie hooked her arm in his, and he supported her weight as they walked. “We’ll call while we’re driving. I don’t know what Walter told those fake cops, but we’d better get moving before they come back.”
Walter burst through the front door. “Mom! Where are you? Professor?”
A familiar British voice greeted him from another room. “Hello, Walter.”
Walter slammed the door and found the professor in the kitchen. “Prof! I saw your car outside. Are you ready to go?”
The professor lifted a large briefcase to chest level. “Yes. When your mother called I packed what we would need and rushed right over.”
“Good thing. We need to get going. The cops won’t let Bonnie’s parents out of jail unless she shows up personally, so it’s up to us to find Billy. Dad and Bonnie’ll come as soon as they can.”
“Your mother filled me in, Walter.” He patted the briefcase with his palm. “And she has already packed dinner for us and left to give Bonnie’s parents a ride home when they are released.” He then gestured with his hand toward the front door. “Shall we go?”
Walter pumped both fists and flashed a big smile. “Let’s go pick a fight with a knight!”
Walter’s father clapped his cell phone closed. “Okay, everything’s set. Since Walter’s going to the mountain with the professor, we don’t have to hurry.”
Bonnie reached over and squeezed his shoulder, hoping her tight grip would communicate her urgency. “But we do have to hurry! They might not be enough.”
He glanced down at her fingers, and his eyes revealed more concern than adults usually showed her. “But we’d just have to wait in the car. You’re in no shape to be climbing mountains.”
“But I know something you don’t.” She gazed up at him. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks. “Mr. Foley, I have to get to the mountain to save Billy. If I don’t get there soon, all could be lost.”
“But you can hardly walk. What could you possibly do?”
She retightened her grip on his shoulder. “Please, you have to trust me. Just get me as close to the crash site as you can, and I’ll handle it from there.”
He reached over to wipe a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Okay. What could it hurt? We’ll get your foster parents out, and we’ll go straight over there.” He wrapped the fingers of both hands firmly around the steering wheel and sighed. “I may be crazy, but for some reason I really do trust you.”
Billy trudged up the mountainside. This time he had no faithful hound to lead him, no adult to counsel him, and no idea what in the world he was getting himself into. His mother had driven into the hills and dropped him off, leaving him with only a road map to go by. The note gave him no other option; he had to come alone. Convincing himself to go solo was a huge battle, but in the end, there was no choice. Bonnie’s life might hang in the balance.
The map didn’t help much; the multicolored symbols included no contour lines, no hills, no valleys, only the roads and larger creeks in the area. The path he had made on his previous venture was still visible in spots. In many places he could see obvious footprints in the snow. In other places he had to track by memory, watching for familiar tree formations, a narrow part of a creek he remembered, and certain ways the slopes undulated and bent.
He and his mother had agreed that she would drive to Alpena and call the police if he failed to return after two hours, so he used a penknife to scratch his signature symbol in prominent trees along the way. He had told her to look for his mark if worse came to worse; it would be a trail the slayer’s men wouldn’t recognize.
As he walked, his thoughts burned miserably over Bonnie’s disappearance and on whether or not the dragon would show up to help, not to mention the fact that an evil slayer’s sword loomed somewhere over the horizon. The path seemed to go on forever. He wanted to go to the cave first, alert the dragon, and then go back to the slayer’s meeting place, but he wasn’t sure he could find the cave without retracing the way he had gone before. Getting lost was the worst option, but he knew if he could just find the plane wreckage again, finding the meeting place wouldn’t be a problem.
And there they were, the blackened remains of Merlin scattered like tossed trash, strewn in every direction. Would the FAA ever come and finish the investigation, or had Devin squelched that somehow?
Billy didn’t slow down at the crash site. He was pretty sure he knew the path, so he marched on. A quick pace and a steady course helped his confidence, but as he neared the spot where the dragon had scorched Devin’s crony, he paused and scanned the area nervously. I don’t feel anything. No danger. I guess I’ll just go on.
When he reached the burned path near the open field, he stopped and turned in every direction, watching, listening. There were no birds chirping, no twigs popping, only the dry song of the cold northerly breeze. The journey had helped him stay warm, but now the wind tried to bite through his coat, making him bounce on his toes to stay active.
He glanced at his watch, borrowed from Walter for this trek. Not quite two. Is the slayer going to show up? Who’ll feel the slayer’s presence first, me or the dragon?
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, son of Clefspeare.”
Billy gasped and turned his head.
Oh no! The slayer! But I’m not ready—I didn’t feel him coming!
