Hear the Children Calling

by Clare McNally

  “The first subject was my own son,” he said. “My second son, I mean. His name is Gregory. His mother was a runaway, but she’s dead now. I took care of that.” He looked at Natalie. “Strychnine in her cola. Very simple. No one missed her, either.”

  Natalie felt a cold sweat break out over her skin. Why was Adams telling her all this when she could easily tell it to the police? Easily? Natalie reminded herself she was tied up, at the mercy of a lunatic.

  He doesn’t care what you know. He’s going to kill you.

  “I raised the boy on my own,” Adams went on. “Remarkable child! He could completely destroy something, then reassemble it before your eyes. It took me a long time to realize it was all illusion. He actually tricked your mind into believing what you saw. That’s how he killed the boy’s father, you know. Made him think the window was broken when in truth the glass was intact. When your husband tried to climb through, the glass cut him in two. Oh, it must have been a remarkable sight.”

  He spoke in a tone of such sheer delight that Natalie couldn’t suppress the belief it was all the rantings of a madman. Stuart was alive, of course. He was alive and he was going to find her.

  Wherever she was . . .

  “My boy has other talents as well. Telepathy, pyrokinesis. Imagine the power I felt to have such a being at my command. I began to work even further with Neolamane. Of course, all drugs are heavily tested before they appear on the market even at the prescription level. In every test performed, none of my son’s unusual gifts was indicated. I thought Gregory might have been a freak. Neolamane seemed a safe means of inducing pregnancy. And in many cases, it was. But then the mutations began and I knew the potential for another like Gregory was still there. Oh, they tried to take Neolamane off the market, but that didn’t stop me. With the help of a few med students—students who would have failed their courses anyway—I managed to get the drug to a select few. You were lucky enough to be one of those women, Natalie Morse. You see, your husband mentioned to one of my med students that you’d been trying for years to have a baby. Stuart was more than happy to try Neolamane. Since it was off the market, he had never heard of it, but he had trusted Ken Safton because the med student was a good friend.”

  Natalie closed her eyes, remembering Safton’s frequent visits to the house during her pregnancy. She’d thought it was unusual when the young man transferred to a medical college in California, soon after Stuart and Natalie moved there from Ann Arbor, Michigan. But she’d been so caught up in her twins that she didn’t dwell on the topic.

  As if he’d read her mind, Adams said, “Twins! More than I could ever have hoped for. I so wanted to have both of them, but you know I was only able to get the boy. He’s been a fascinating study, Natalie. You should be proud of him. But you won’t have time to be proud, will you? Because you’re going to die. I only have to ask one of my children and I’ll have a whole slew of executions at my disposal. But I was talking about Michael, wasn’t I? It’s only a shame he’s dead now. I can’t imagine what kind of money I would have made if I’d been able to sell him. When I think what the army could do . . .”

  Adams stopped abruptly once again and came closer to Natalie. Disgust at what this man had done had overwhelmed her, and she found herself losing control. To her chagrin and anger, the corduroy upholstery of the seat felt damp beneath her.

  “Look at that,” Adams said in a scolding voice. “And you’re an adult. Well, I suppose I have had you confined for a long time. For God’s sake, get up and clean yourself in the bathroom.”

  Natalie glared at him.

  He frowned, then his eyes widened. “Of course,” he said. “You can’t move, can you?” He began to untie her.

  Natalie brought her arms carefully forward and looked in horror at the raw, bloodied skin on her wrists.

  Adams began to untie the gauze bandage he’d used to gag her, but paused a moment. “By the way,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone that belied the monster inside him, “don’t bother screaming. There’s no one else here but my own people. We’re at a retreat I had built especially for an emergency like this one.”

  With that, he untied the gag. Natalie worked her mouth and tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she could only emit a strange little croak. She stood up, shook the kinks out of her legs, and gazed at the doctor. He indicated the bathroom with a chillingly pleasant smile.

  “You’ll find towels and a robe,” Dr. Adams said. “I had them set up especially for you. You do want to be presentable at your execution.”

  Safe within the confines of the bath, Natalie flicked on the light and went to the sink. Her hair was a rat’s nest, her skin ghostly pale in some spots and bruised in others. Dry, cracked lips welcomed the cool water she carried to them in cupped hands. Tenderly, numbly, she began to wash the dirt from her sore wrists. The shower was so inviting, but Natalie wondered if she dared to put herself in such a vulnerable situation, naked and at the mercy of Dr. Adams.

  “Stop—stop calling him ‘doctor,’” she whispered. She had serious doubts about his medical degree.

  Still, she needed to revive herself if she ever planned to get out of here. Natalie reached for the door and locked it. Then she undressed, turned on the shower, and got in. The water was icy cold, but it shocked away the last of the drug that had been used to sedate her. Fearful that Adams would burst in on her in spite of the door’s lock, she got out quickly and dried herself off. Then, to make him think she was still busy, she turned the sink on. Almost completely revived now and not letting herself wonder why she was allowed the luxury of a shower, Natalie climbed back into the tub and peered out the small window. Adams hadn’t been lying. She seemed to be in a large house in the middle of nowhere. From this direction, she could not see the mountains. Natalie tried to get her bearings, but couldn’t decide which direction she was facing.

  There was a knock. “Are you almost finished?”

  “I’m—I’m sick,” Natalie said. It was only half a lie.

  “Let me take care of you,” Adams said congenially. “I’m a doctor.”

  You’re a goddamned devil, that’s what you are!

  Natalie didn’t answer him. Instead, she glared at the battered face she saw reflected in a mirror. If he’d done this to her, it was frightening to think what he’d done to her children. And to Stuart—God, let him be alive!—and her parents. She’d make him pay, somehow. If it killed her, she’d take this bastard down with her.

  She looked all around the bathroom in the hope of finding a weapon. The medicine cabinet was empty, as was the cabinet beneath. There had to be something here, anything she could use . . .

  Her eyes came to rest on the shower curtain. It was held up by wire rings, some of them rusted after years of use. Working quickly, Natalie pulled one down, then rearranged the curtains so it would not be noticed, Long ago, an old boyfriend had been a magician who specialized in sleight of hand. He’d shown her a trick called palming, where the magician kept something hidden in the palm of his hand. Natalie untwisted the ring as best she could, then fitted it into the slightly bent heel of her palm. To others, it would seem she was holding her hand in a relaxed position. As long as she didn’t turn it, no one would notice. The wire wouldn’t kill anyone, but it could inflict enough pain to give her a moment’s advantage.

  At last, she opened the door. Natalie was surprised to see another woman standing with the doctor. She had dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and she wore a nurse’s white uniform.

  “Come with us,” Alice Segal said without introduction. “There is something we want you to see.”

  Silently, her hair still dripping wet, Natalie followed them down a dark hall. Adams opened a door at the end to lead them into what might have been a ballroom at one time. The floor was patterned in concentric circles of red and azure, each circle directly beneath a heavy crystal chandelier. Natalie barely had time to register the tall windows at the back before noticing the rows of seats to her left. There were more tha
n fifty, each occupied. Almost a third held children. She noticed all of them were about Beth’s and Peter’s age.

  “These are my children,” Dr. Adams said, indicating them with a sweeping gesture. “The children I took from parents who could not appreciate them. Of all those who took Neolamane, only these select few possess the gifts I am about to demonstrate. Through the years, I have not only been training them, but I have been trying to find out why they reacted so differently to the drug.”

  “But—but their real parents . . .” Natalie whispered. She studied a few of the children’s faces. They looked just like regular kids.

  “I’m so tired of explaining,” Adams said. “Do sit down.”

  With more force than necessary, the dark-haired nurse pushed her into a chair. Natalie held fast to the wire hidden in her partially opened hand.

  For the next half-hour, she sat spellbound as the children demonstrated their talents to her. Peter and Beth had been telepathic, but these others went far beyond that. Their potential for destruction was immense. At last, she blinked a few times and looked over at Dr. Adams. The maniacal gleam had gone from the man’s ice-blue eyes. She saw now the warmth that had caused all these people to trust him.

  “I’m impressed,” she said. “You really have done something important here.”

  The awe in her voice was the result of horror, not the admiration she hoped Adams would read into it. She was not disappointed.

  “Then you understand why I did it?”

  “I do,” Natalie said. She stood up. The Gestapo-like nurse tried to hold her down, but Adams signaled that she be allowed to approach.

  “Imagine what you could do if this didn’t have to be secretive,” she said. “If the children could have been kept with their real parents and the medical community had continued the manufacture of Neolamane.”

  “Yes, you do understand!” Adams was as delighted as a child. The others watched him, but kept silent. They’d been ordered not to say or do a thing without his orders.

  “Oh, I understand,” Natalie said. She was standing right in front of him now. Her voice was a monotone. “I understand that you’re a brilliant, gifted . . .”

  The wire-weapon came out of nowhere and plunged into the man’s neck.

  “. . . Blood-crazed bastard!”

  Natalie screamed her words of anger even as Dr. Adams reached for his neck with a wail of dismay. The previously orderly room went helter-skelter as children cried and grown-ups ran to see what happened. In the ensuing chaos, Natalie was given the few moments she needed. She bolted for the door.

  Alice Segal was after her in a flash. But in those few seconds, a strange feeling came over one of the children. A feeling that all of this was very wrong. Without really understanding what she was doing, a ten-year-old-girl reached out her foot and tripped Jenny Segal’s mother. Her actions gave Natalie a chance to escape.

  The halls were only dimly lit, but in a few moments Natalie found herself in a kitchen. She heard doors opening behind her. Not stopping, Natalie jerked open the back door and ran out into the cold, moonlit night.

  “Get her! Don’t let her get away!”

  She heard a woman shouting and imagined the dark-haired nurse in pursuit of her. Breathless, pebbles and pine cones cutting into her bare feet, Natalie raced toward the distant mountains. The doctor’s mansion was built on a slope, leading into a copse of juniper trees. Natalie headed for these and did not stop to catch her breath until she was safely hidden in the shadows. She heard shouting.

  And something else. A steady, roaring noise. Natalie moved toward its source and realized she was near a road. All she had to do now was flag down help.

  Overwhelmed at the prospect of being saved, Natalie let the wall she had built to protect herself from what was happening crumble. Like a wild woman, she bolted through the woods and headed out to the street. Two pinpoints of light were heading toward her. She waved her arms, screaming “Stop!” A horn bellowed at her, but she didn’t move. Her own injuries and exhaustion had muddled her sense of depth perception.

  Though the driver had slammed his brakes, the pickup truck was on top of her before she realized how close he was. From somewhere far away she heard a young man’s voice swear loudly, then the sound of a slamming door.

  “Oh, my God! What’re you doin’ jumpin’ in fronna trucks like that, lady? Oh, my God!”

  And then other voices. Natalie couldn’t move or respond, but she could hear every word.

  “It wasn’t your fault, young man.” This was Dr. Adams speaking. “She’s one of my patients. Now, if you’d just help me get her into the back of your truck, you can help me take her home.”

  “But—but aren’t you going to call the police?”

  “As I said, it wasn’t your fault,” Dr. Adams replied.

  No! No! In her mind, Natalie’s screams were the loudest noise around. But no one else heard her.

  “Just help me get her back and we’ll forget the whole thing.”

  “Sure,” the young driver said, overwhelmed and relieved that nothing was going to happen to him.

  Natalie felt hands all over her, lifting her. Cold on her breasts told her the robe had blown open, but she could not move to cover herself. Seconds later, someone closed the robe for her. She was lowered ever so gently onto the bed of the truck.

  “Okay, follow us back to the house,” Dr. Adams said. “Slowly.”

  No! Oh, God, don’t let them take me back there. They’re going to kill me. I know they’re going to kill me.

  Slowly, bumping up the rocky slope, the truck made its way to the house.

  57

  LOU VERMONT TOOK OFF HIS SHERIFF’S CAP AND scratched his head. Across the room, Danny Emerson sat on Jenny’s bed with his arms around his daughter.

  “I’m still having trouble figuring this all out,” Lou said. “But I know one thing: it isn’t going to take any blood test or prints to prove Jenny Segal is really Laura Emerson.”

  Danny gave his daughter a bear hug, about the hundredth since their reunion, and Laura giggled. Lou had noticed right away that they both had the same dark hair and eyes, the same large bones and heavy brows. Now he heard they had very similar laughs, although Danny’s was much deeper in tone than his daughter’s.

  “It’s like a miracle,” Danny said. “Laura, your mommy will be arriving in a few hours. And when you go home, you’ll meet your brothers.”

  Lou put his cap back on and stood up.

  “Did you hear anything more about them?”

  “I called Kate while they were checking Laura over,” Danny said, grinning. “Joey and Chris are fine. The doctors are still wondering what happened, but just about the same time Laura told Kate she was alive, the boys snapped out of their comas. It’s as if a spell had been put on them and it was broken.”

  Lou sighed. “I’ll never understand this. Well, I better go check on the others.”

  He left the room and headed toward the one where Michael, really Peter, and Beth would be. Lou felt weary, anticipating the difficulty of his next task. Now that he’d heard as much of the story as possible, he realized it was his duty to place Ralph Colpan under arrest. He knocked at Peter’s door. The little boy was sitting up in bed, holding a pair of binoculars.

  “Look what my dad bought me,” he said. “Aren’t they neat?”

  Beth frowned, looking at her feet. Ralph cleared his throat.

  “Well, I still think of him as my dad,” Michael said. “Maybe I really am Peter Morse, but he took good care of me and I love him.”

  Ralph shook his head. There was a heavy bandage over one side of his face, but the throbbing pain behind his eye had been eradicated with medicine. The doctor had said he’d be fine in a few weeks, but Ralph couldn’t agree with that.

  “What I did was wrong, Michael,” Ralph said. He coughed. “I mean, Peter. That’s your real name, you know.” He looked at the sheriff. “I only learned about it recently,” he said. “But I suspected a long time ag
o that Michael was no orphan.”

  Lou nodded sympathetically. “There are mitigating circumstances here. I’m sure any judge will understand you were almost as much a victim of Adams as Peter was.”

  “What about Adams?” Ralph asked. “Have you found him?”

  “We’re still looking,” Lou said. “If a man could disappear from the face of the earth, it seems he’s done it.”

  Peter looked at his sister, then back at the sheriff.

  “What do you mean about a judge?” he asked. “You aren’t going to arrest my dad, are you?”

  “He’s not our dad,” Beth cried. “Our real daddy is dead.”

  Her face screwed up and she began to sob. Ralph hesitated a moment, then put his arms around her. In their ordeal together, they had become friends.

  “It’ll be okay,” he said. “When we find your mom, it’ll be okay.”

  Beth pulled away. “That Dr. Adams is going to kill her, too. I know it.”

  “No,” Peter cried. “We can’t let him. Beth, Jenny’s real mom used her mind to help us down from the balloon. Maybe we can use our minds to call our real mother.”

  Ralph shook his head vigorously. “Nothing doing, you guys. You’ve been through enough.”

  “Mr. Colpan is right,” Lou agreed. “You kids need to rest. Leave this to the police.”

  “But she’s our mother,” Beth protested. “We’ve got to—”

  The door opened and a nurse popped her head in. “Sheriff Vermont? There’s a disturbance down in the emergency room. Could you help us out?”

  Lou followed her down the hall to the elevator. When they reached the emergency room, he heard the sounds of a woman’s screams. One of his officers, John, hurried up to him.

  “We think we found the Morse woman,” he said. “Fellow over there brought her in unconscious, but when she woke up, she started screaming her head off.”

  There was sudden silence. Lou guessed the woman had been given a sedative. He went up to the triage nurse and asked permission to see her. When he was led into the room where she was now sleeping, Lou studied the haggard woman under the white sheets. Despite her strawlike hair and pale skin, he knew from pictures he’d seen that she was, indeed, Natalie Morse. The thing to do now was figure out how she’d gotten here. He left the room and went to talk to the man who had brought her in.