The chief considered giving chase for about three seconds, then heaved a resigned sigh. “I don’t suppose either of you would like to tell me your friend’s name so I can get in touch with his parents.” There was no reply. “Looks like he tore his face up pretty good. Maybe he needs a doctor.” Still nothing.
“Fine.” He gave them their dinner, sat down at his desk, and picked up the phone. “I hate to bother you, Wisnewski, but the third kid just paid us a visit here. I tried to grab him, but he gave me the slip. Do you mind having a look around for him? I’d love to turn all three of them over when the army gets here.”
Inside the cell, Jax looked up in alarm. The army?
“Yeah, you heard me,” the chief went on into the phone. “The kid from the poster turns out to be some kind of military brat who took off. Not sure how the other two fit in, but they’ll be out of our hair tonight. Can’t be too soon for me. I like things nice and sleepy around here.”
Jax, who was starving, suddenly couldn’t take so much as a single bite of his sandwich. The army was coming to get him. He should have known. Who else could have circulated those alerts? And when the Pine Bough P.D. had reported they had the runaway in question, the information had been passed along the law enforcement network until it reached Fort Calhoun and Colonel Brassmeyer.
Kira regarded him questioningly, but he could offer no more than a hopeless shrug. On top of all his other regrets — and there were many — how could he have been crazy enough to involve Tommy and Kira in this mess? He felt horrible about it but, in the end, he supposed it wouldn’t make much difference. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning would still roll around, and nothing would ever be the same again.
So wrapped up was he in his misery that at first he failed to notice the distant roar of an unmuffled engine. Soon, though, the noise grew louder, until it was impossible to ignore it.
“What is that?” Kira whispered.
Jax could only shake his head. It reminded him a little of the tanks on maneuvers outside Fort Calhoun. And for an insane moment, he actually toyed with the possibility that Brassmeyer was so mad at him, he had driven an M1 all the way from Oklahoma just for the pleasure of blowing Jax’s head off.
The police chief was on his feet now, frowning in confusion as he pondered what in Pine Bough made so much noise, especially in the middle of the night. The floor was vibrating now, and the glass windowpanes, too.
And then the front door of the police station disintegrated into a shower of flying splinters, along with the doorframe and eight inches of plaster wall on either side.
Out of the blizzard of dust and debris roared the Bobcat, Tommy Cicerelli at the controls.
Jax and Kira ran to the front of their cell, staring in openmouthed wonder.
“Get back!” Tommy bellowed. He adjusted the digger to the level of the lock and wrenched the controls. The Bobcat surged ahead, its heavy metal scoop smashing into the lock, bending steel bars and knocking the cell door askew.
The police chief raced forward, but the cell door came down on him, pinning him to the floor. He struggled, but the weight of the digger kept the bars in place.
Tommy cut the engine and jumped down to the rubble-strewn floor. “Sorry,” he tossed in the direction of the police chief. He reached in through the opening and hauled Jax and Kira out of the cell.
Flattened to the floor, the chief was beside himself. “What are you kids?”
“We’re not bad,” Jax tried to explain. “We’re just in a hurry. A really big hurry. We’ll send help — you know, later.”
They ran off into the night, heading in the direction they hoped was south.
“That was awesome, Tommy!” Jax panted. “Where’d you learn to drive a Bobcat?”
“My dad is in construction, remember? I’ve been doing it since I was eight.”
“How are we going to find that horse farm in the dark?” Kira wondered. “It could be miles from here.”
At that moment, there was the blurp of a siren, and a spotlight shone on them, three insects trapped in amber. “Freeze!” came a voice through the loudspeaker. It was the other cop, Wisnewski.
“Back off,” said Jax quietly. “I’ve got this.”
Wisnewski got out of his car and approached, handcuffs at the ready. “All right, you lot. Into the car.”
Jax turned to face him, moving closer because of the darkness. “You’re very calm … very relaxed.” The PIP image appeared — himself in the cruiser’s spotlight, Tommy and Kira a safe distance behind him. “It’s your urgent desire to take us down to the old Quackenbush farm…. Nothing in the world could make you happier.”
Within minutes, they were in the squad car, heading south.
“Excellent,” Jax approved. “Every mile makes you that much more content. Now, after you drop us off, you’ll forget all about us and where we are…. Oh, yeah, and you’ll go back to the police station and get your boss out from under the cell door.”
“These’ll help,” added Tommy, reaching from the backseat to drop the keys to the Bobcat into the cup holder.
After about ten minutes, the squad car veered off the highway. The high beams illuminated a tall archway bearing only the letter Q.
“Kill the lights,” Jax ordered. “We want to — uh — surprise them.”
They continued about a quarter mile on the gravel drive. In the gloom, Jax could make out fenced pastureland on either side.
Kira pointed. “Look.”
Up ahead they could see the main house, huge and rambling. Sure enough, there were lights on.
Jax’s stomach tightened as he contemplated the fact that Mako might be inside, and that their confrontation was near.
“Okay,” he told Wisnewski, “stop right here.”
The officer waited only long enough for them to get out of the car before turning around and speeding away toward town to complete his hypnotic instructions.
As they made their stealthy approach to the house, Tommy’s phone went off with its symphony of cock-a-doodle-doo.
“Shhh!” Jax and Kira chorused.
Sheepishly, Tommy silenced it. “My folks. They’ve been calling all night.”
“I bent my parents before meeting you guys at the bus station,” Kira put in. “I hate to do that, but I had the feeling that this was going to turn into a long day.”
“Must be nice,” Tommy grumbled. “I’m going to end up grounded till I’m forty.”
“The whole world’s going to end up grounded if we can’t pull this off,” Jax reminded them.
The house was nowhere near as big as the vast Quackenbush estate Jax had visited in Connecticut, but it was still an impressive home, with several wings stretching out in all directions.
They ducked into the bushes and began to trace the perimeter, peering into windows as they moved along. Most of the rooms were empty, but there was a dim glow attesting to the fact that lights were on elsewhere.
They moved to another window, and there he was — Stanley X, lying on the couch with his bare feet on an ottoman, watching TV. He seemed so young, so ordinary, so harmless that it was hard to imagine that he was Mako’s instrument in the coming global disaster. He was a little kid, an eight-year-old in Angry Birds pajamas, up past his bedtime watching cartoons.
Tommy peered over Jax’s shoulder. “That’s Stanley? Him? He looks like a Cub Scout!”
“He definitely doesn’t seem like the architect of the end of the world,” Kira agreed.
“The army thinks he’s the only known Arcanov,” Jax told them, “and his power is second to none. In the hands of a guy like Mako, he could be the most dangerous person alive.”
The most dangerous person alive giggled at something on the screen.
“Where’s Mako?” Tommy asked.
“Probably not far away,” Jax concluded. “He’s Stanley’s legal guardian now. And anyway, you can’t leave an eight-year-old all alone in the middle of nowhere.”
“So what’s our plan?” Kira probed.
“This could be our only shot at Stanley without Mako around,” Jax decided. “I’m going to go in there and talk to him. Maybe I can convince him that Mako’s evil and he should join up with us.”
“And if you can’t?” she persisted.
“Then I’ll try to bend him.”
“You said he bends you!” Tommy protested.
Jax glared at him. “What are you — my nanny? I have to try. This isn’t optional, and it can’t wait. It’s now or never!”
They moved on to the next window, which opened on a deserted hallway. One by one, they climbed over the sill and closed the sash silently behind them. Jax in the lead, they tiptoed down the corridor to the parlor where Stanley was watching TV.
Jax stepped inside. “Hi, Stanley.”
Surprised, the boy sat bolt upright. “Jax — what are you doing here?”
Jax advanced slowly, cautiously. He didn’t want to upset the eight-year-old, but he had to tell the truth. It was after midnight, which made this the day of the UN conference.
He couldn’t waste time. There wasn’t any left.
“I’ve got to tell you some stuff, Stanley, and it may not be so easy for you to hear.” He moved closer, doing his best to be unthreatening. “Ferguson — Mako — whatever he told you his name is — he isn’t your relative. He’s a bad guy — a really bad guy, and he’s using your power to do something terrible.”
Stanley’s eyes flashed with anger. “It’s not true!”
Jax felt a twinge of hypnotic stirring, and adjusted his gaze slightly off-center. If Stanley could pack that much mesmeric punch in a resentful glance, the kid was even more dangerous than Jax had suspected.
“It is true,” Jax persisted. “I’m sorry to have to tell you. Remember that video clip he made you record —?”
And then an overpowering force grabbed Jax from behind, locking him in a chokehold. A knee in the small of his back lifted his heels slightly off the floor. He tried to rasp “Mako!” but no sound would come out. He hung there, paralyzed with pain.
“Hello, Dopus!” came an all-too-familiar sneer.
Not Mako. Wilson.
“You’re at Fort Calhoun!” Jax gasped.
“I guess geography isn’t your jam,” Wilson replied with a cruel laugh. “I was never under army protection like you. I could quit anytime I wanted. Good move on my part. I’ve been itching to get my hands on you for a long time.”
Suddenly, Wilson pitched forward, releasing his grip on Jax.
Jax wheeled to see Tommy clinging to Wilson’s back, his hands clutched around the big teenager’s throat. Wilson spun around in an attempt to dislodge his attacker. Tommy held on for dear life. A swinging sneaker knocked a lamp off an end table. It hit the floor and shattered.
Stanley stood up on the sofa, his distress evident. “Stop it!”
Jax tried to lock eyes with Wilson, but the older boy was moving too much in his battle with Tommy. Jax charged his enemy, grabbed him around the midsection, and drove forward like a wrestler. Wilson staggered back a few steps into the TV stand. All three combatants and the TV hit the floor. The screen cracked but, amazingly, the cartoons continued.
Tommy, crushed by Wilson, emitted an “Oof!” that almost drowned out Stanley’s wailing.
Jax pressed his advantage, crawling on top of Wilson and forcing his eyes into his adversary’s line of vision. With a roar of protest, Wilson swatted him away with a backhand like the kick of a mule. Tommy reached around and managed to press the heel of his hand into Wilson’s nose. With a cry of outrage, the burly teen brought his elbow into Tommy’s ribs.
With a winded whimper, Tommy let go, and Wilson leaped up and made a run at Jax, slamming him into the doorframe. Jax blinked away the stars that were consuming his vision and tried once more to press his sole advantage with this huge opponent — to focus his hypnotic gaze on Wilson.
“Don’t even think about it, Dopus!” he raged, averting his eyes. “All I have to do is turn my face three inches away! I can still see well enough to pound you into hamburger!”
And then another voice — a female one — said, “Wilson.”
Kira appeared in the doorway, moving into Wilson’s line of sight. Before he could react, she had him. “You are very calm … very relaxed….”
Fighting to avoid being bent, Wilson turned, only to be caught by Jax’s eyes, which were darkening through blue into purple. “Easy, Wilson,” he told his enemy. “Chill out…. No reason to get excited….”
Stanley made a move to wade into the fray, but Tommy blocked him.
Jax could sense that Wilson was nearly his. “You’re feeling great, big guy … just go with it.” When the PIP image appeared, Jax could see a gigantic welt on his left cheek where Wilson had smashed him. “We’re all friends here….”
“Sure,” Tommy muttered. “What’s a few broken ribs between friends?”
Kira shot him a harsh “Shhh!”
“Okay,” Jax went on when he sensed that the connection was solid. “Now you’re going to take us to Dr. Mako. Don’t make a fuss; don’t say anything. Just lead us quietly to the room he’s in.”
Wilson just stood there, his expression haunted.
“Come on now, it’s just a walk down the hall…. Think how wonderful it’ll feel to stretch your legs….”
“Maybe you didn’t bend him right?” Tommy suggested.
“That’s not it,” Kira put in. “Mako must have programmed him not to answer certain questions.”
“All right, Wilson,” Jax persisted, “any suggestion in your mind that was planted by Dr. Mako is not important anymore…. All that matters is what great friends we’ve turned into, and how we’re both on the same side. Dr. Mako needs to know about that, so please take me to him….”
Wilson began to whimper.
“You have to back off,” Kira counseled. “He’s carrying conflicting commands from you and Mako. If you push it, you could damage his mind.”
“Like he’s got a mind to damage,” scoffed Tommy.
“You guys have got it all wrong!” Stanley piped up. “He couldn’t obey if he wanted to. Dr. Mako isn’t here anymore! He went to New York.”
Jax jumped all over that. “To the United Nations?”
Stanley seemed genuinely amazed. “Why would he go there?”
“Think, Stanley!” Jax demanded. “What did Mako tell you? It’s really important!”
Tommy looked defeated. “Take it easy on the kid, Opus. He honestly doesn’t know.”
But Jax understood that upsetting Stanley had to come second to stopping Mako and the global Aurora that was just hours away.
He turned on the eight-year-old. “Listen to me, Stanley. Dr. Mako has spread your video worldwide. When nine AM rolls around, hundreds of millions of FreeForAll users are going to grind to a halt. I’ve seen the damage that can do in one little town. If we’re talking about the entire planet, a lot of innocent people will die!”
Stanley set a quivering lip. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was,” Jax told him. “This is real. Mako is evil.”
“He’s my cousin and he loves me! He made me better when I got sick!”
“He’s not your cousin,” Jax insisted. “He only wants you for what you can do. He used me until I saw through him and refused to be a part of it. He tried to kill me, and he’ll try to kill you, too, if you cross him.”
“No!” Stanley began to cry. “It’s not true! You’re the one who’s evil. I finally have a family, and now you want to trick me out of it! Well, it won’t work!”
Jax regarded the eight-year-old. He was red-faced and sobbing, almost hysterical. He would never allow himself to be convinced of the truth — not when it meant turning on the sole parent he had ever known.
There was only one way he could reach Stanley. And even that was far from certain. He had never been able to bend this boy. Again and again, Stanley had prevailed — both face-to-face and who knew how many times over FreeForAll.
Eyes afire, he rounded on Stanley, muscling right up to the slight boy to make the most of his superior size. Stanley stumbled back at first. But as soon as he realized that their conflict was going to be hypnotic, he wiped away his tears, squared his shoulders, and stood tall. The glance he shot back at Jax was like a physical blow.
Two sets of eyes locked, and the battle was on. The water-down-the-wrong-pipe sensation was almost instantaneous, which both impressed and terrified Jax. He hadn’t remembered Stanley being this strong.
He’s with Mako now, Jax reminded himself. Learning from the master.
Jax bore down, concentrating all the centuries of Opus and Sparks heritage on a single point dead center in Stanley’s forehead. Agonizingly slowly, he began to see a ghostly picture of himself.
A PIP! he thought triumphantly. I’m doing it!
Whether he lost his focus or Stanley just took the initiative away from him, the vision was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Now Stanley had the upper hand, and was pressing in on him, a power drill boring into Jax’s mind. He felt himself beginning to relax….
No! You can’t! That’s how it starts!
He brought up both hands and smacked himself hard in the face. Pain surged through him, especially on the side where Wilson had punched him.
He could hear Tommy asking, “What’s going on?” and Kira hushing him. She recognized the mental energy radiating from this mesmeric war, but to Tommy, it must have looked like a couple of guys staring at each other.
The struggle went on without respite, the advantage shifting back and forth between the two combatants. Every time Jax felt himself beginning to penetrate, the eight-year-old would cast him out with a withering counterattack that left Jax gasping. It was at that point that fatigue began to give way to fear. Jax was losing this fight — there was no getting around it. He would not be overpowered by a superior mind-bender. No, this defeat would be more subtle yet just as inevitable. In the past seventy-two hours, Jax had escaped the army, traversed the country, and participated in a jailbreak. He’d been run ragged, not just physically, but with the overwhelming mental burden of the global tragedy he was trying to prevent. Yes, he was trading blows with Stanley hypnotically. Slowly and surely, though, he was being worn down. He couldn’t keep this up….
The Dragonfly Effect Page 13
