Fern started the sink running.
“I need you to do something for me,” Fern said as both girls stood in the middle of the bathroom.
“Fern, what’s an Otherworldly?” Candace’s high-pitched voice did not waver as she asked the question that had been on her mind for several hours now. Fern was stunned.
“How do you know that word?” Fern interrogated.
“I don’t want to lie to you, but until you start telling me the truth, I’m not sure why I should volunteer any information.”
“Tell the truth about what?”
“About who you are. About why you disappeared from the bathroom.”
“Candace, I’m asking you a favor . . . that’s it. If you do this for me, I promise I’ll tell you everything after it’s over. I can’t tell you right now.” Fern was tired of making up excuses.
“Why not? I don’t know what happened to you that made you so secretive about everything,” Candace said.
My life happened, Fern wanted to respond.
“It’s not so hard . . . telling the truth. Look, I’ll go first: I saw you move the towel in the exercise room. And earlier tonight, when you talked to Mrs. Lin, I was hiding under the table and I heard everything.”
Fern took a step backward, fighting the instinct to pounce on Candace.
“You had NO right! Is that what you’ve been writing about in your stupid notebook?” Candace’s admission had caused the compartment containing the facts surrounding Haryle Laffar to burst open. Fern began to visualize the man who had killed her birth mother. She wondered how he did it . . . whether Phoebe had been taken by surprise. The image of the killer’s gleaming silver tooth burned in Fern’s mind.
Candace’s voice snapped Fern back into the reality of the bathroom.
“This isn’t about my stupid journal anymore, Fern. Don’t you understand? No matter if you tell me or not, I’ll do whatever you want,” Candace said. Fern had never seen her roommate put so much emotion into her words. “Because I know you wouldn’t be asking for help unless you really needed it. I’m worried that you’re in real danger. But I know I can help you if you tell me what’s going on.”
Candace put her hands on her diminutive hips. She’d braided her hair, which had the effect of making her look even younger than she was. She could easily pass for an eight-year-old. Fern began to pace the length of the bathroom.
“Maybe you only see me as some geek who you were forced to room with. . . . But being a geek has its advantages. I may not be able to perform telekinesis, but I can recite the periodic table forward and backward, I can complete geometric proofs that even Mr. Billing doesn’t understand, I can memorize ten pages of information in about five minutes, and,” Candace said, taking a moment to catch her breath in the midst of her impassioned speech, “I’m betting I can probably help you come up with a way to stop your father from doing whatever it is he’s planning.”
Fern seriously considered telling Candace the truth. She knew she would feel relieved to tell another person. But she’d realized it wasn’t fair to Candace. It would be selfish.
“Even if I told you, Candace, you wouldn’t believe me. No one would.”
Candace’s smirk morphed into a smile. “I think you’re forgetting a key fact about me. . . . Sometimes the most important prejudice a scientist can overcome is her perception that reality has boundaries. All the greatest scientists in history have shared one single belief: that at any given moment, anything is possible.” Candace’s voice had never been more emphatic.
“Who originally said that?” Fern asked.
“I did, Fern,” Candace responded. “It’s like I’ve been telling you . . . I’m pretty smart. And you can either use that to your advantage or you can keep lying and get yourself in worse trouble than I suspect you’re already in.”
“Well . . . all right,” Fern said hesitantly, even as she looked at Candace’s triumphant face. “You may want to sit down for all this, especially if we’re going to start at the beginning.”
By the end of Fern’s story, Candace Tutter was completely befuddled.
“So . . . you’re . . . a vampire?” Candace asked.
“That’s one word for it, yes.”
“There are so many books and movies about them, but I never actually thought they existed. . . . To think I was getting kind of sick of them!”
“Imagine how I feel,” Fern said, smiling for the first time since she’d found out about Haryle Laffar’s true identity.
Candace swore she would help Fern by stopping Lindsey, Mrs. Lin, and Sam from trying to follow Fern into the den where Miles was imprisoned.
Fern had complete confidence in Candace’s abilities to figure out a way to do just that.
After all, the girl was a genius.
Fern waited until her watch read 11:40 p.m. She clutched two objects in her hands, and she only hoped that when the time came, she’d be able to use them. Blythe and Lee were long asleep, and a few minutes before, Candace had set out for the lobby, ready to stop the Lins and Sam from trying to follow Fern.
The whole thing had been Candace’s idea.
After Fern explained every detail to her new confidante, including a description of the concrete bunker where Miles, and probably Mr. Lin, were being held, Candace took several moments to ponder. Fern wondered if she was deciding whether or not to believe the strange tale. Fern had to admit that the whole thing sounded utterly preposterous, and she realized Candace would have a million follow-up questions. Fern would need to cut Candace off at some point in order to prepare for her teleportation to the zoo.
The question Candace finally did ask completely surprised Fern.
“So there was a padlock on Miles Zapo’s cage?”
“Yes.”
“How big?” Candace had the details of Fern’s predicament firmly in mind and was already speaking like an authority on the subject. Fern figured she just might be.
“I don’t know. I guess it was pretty big.”
“Do you think you could break it with your bare hands?”
“Not likely.”
“Well, when you get there, how do plan on breaking him out?”
“Well . . . I . . . I guess I hadn’t really thought about that. I figured something would come to me,” Fern said. It was true that in her excitement she hadn’t given much thought to her next move once she’d found Miles and Mr. Lin.
“Goodness, Fern. You’re about as good at planning as Bonnie and Clyde.”
“Who and who?”
“Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow? The famous outlaws during the Great Depression?” Candace raised her eyebrows. The flowing water from the sink had turned hot and started to fog up the mirrors.
“Never heard of them.”
“Well, Bonnie and Clyde were these legendary bank robbers, except they would have been a lot more legendary if they ever made an actual plan before they went in and robbed a bank. They charged in with a gun. That was about all the thinking they did.”
“What’s your point?” Fern asked.
“My point is that you don’t even have a gun. Let alone a plan.”
“And I suppose you have one?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Candace said, smiling. “Follow me.”
There was a spring in her step as she turned the faucet off and opened the door to the room. She made a beeline for her suitcase and began throwing clothing out of it into a pile on the side of her double bed. She dug until finally she produced a combination lock the size of her small fist. After displaying it proudly to Fern, she zipped up her suitcase and put the lock through the holes atop the zippers, which were now neatly aligned.
“I’m not sure locking your suitcase really gets us any closer to figuring out how to get Miles out of his cage,” Fern whispered, turning around to see if Lee and Blythe were paying any attention. They seemed to still be completely focused on the adventures of Lindsay Lohan and Rachel McAdams.
The suitcase was half Candace’s size,
and she looked like she was in danger of toppling over as she lifted it upright. Candace began wheeling the suitcase toward the door, and Fern followed her into the hallway.
“Moving out?” Lee called after them hopefully. The door shut. Candace marched ahead, wheeling her now-locked suitcase behind her.
“Where are we going?” Fern whispered anxiously. It was now well past the St. Gregory’s nine p.m. curfew. If they were caught out in the hallway—with a suitcase, no less—they would be in serious trouble. Candace traveled all the way around the corner and down the hallway of the eastern bank of rooms. She waited a moment in front of Room 754. Then she knocked.
“What are you doing?” Fern said, dumbfounded, her eyes so wide, she thought that her eyeballs might fall right out. “This is my mom’s ro—“
The door opened.
“Hello Mrs. McAllister.” Candace smiled cheerfully at Mary Lou McAllister, who gave Candace a reserved smile in return.
“Are you ladies going somewhere?” The Commander was wearing fleece pants and a St. Gregory’s sweatshirt. Her blond hair was up in a bun. She was clearly ready for bed.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you, but someone seems to have put a lock on my suitcase, and I need the medication I keep in it before I go to bed. Fern said you might know what to do.”
The Commander’s eyes darted from Candace to Fern, and then back to Candace. She raised an eyebrow. Bending forward, she took a look at the suitcase, giving the lock a tug.
“Did Lee or Blythe put this on your suitcase?”
Candace got an anxious look on her face. “I’m not here to get anyone in trouble, Mrs. McAllister, see, I just want to take my medicine.”
The Commander’s face softened. “Of course, sweetheart.” She bent down so that she was at the same eye level as Candace. “Why don’t we go downstairs and see if someone can help you with that?”
Mrs. McAllister, Fern, and Candace rode down in the elevator. The Commander had taken charge of wheeling Candace’s suitcase. They arrived in the lobby, and after the Commander described the situation to the concierge, they were led down the hall to a locked blue door.
“When he opens the door,” Candace whispered in Fern’s ear, pulling her back from the adults, “you need to get a very good look at the inside of the lock. Try to memorize it in your mind, okay?”
“Why?” Fern said, utterly confused. She was starting to believe that Candace’s plan was completely idiotic.
“Just do it,” Candace said, before the Commander looked back at the two girls. The concierge unlocked the door, revealing a janitor’s closet full of mops and brooms. A red tool chest with many drawers sat in the back corner. He whistled as he searched through the chest, finally pulling out a long tool. Fern thought it was a pair of pliers at first, but then realized it was a bolt cutter.
Candace nudged Fern into the room with the back of her knee. Once she was halfway in, Fern stretched her neck around the door so she could see its other side. There was a knob and then, above that, a dead bolt that one of the concierge’s keys had just unlocked. Fern didn’t know what else she was supposed to memorize, but she remembered the color, gold, as well as the two screws that held the bolt and the circular gold plate in place above the knob.
Meanwhile, Candace prattled on, keeping both the Commander and the concierge engaged in conversation so that Fern could observe the inside of the door without anyone noticing. Candace talked about how she had a thyroid condition and her medicine was very important; she asked the concierge how he knew how to work bolt cutters; she asked how often people locked their suitcases accidentally.
The concierge made short work of the lock on the suitcase. He snapped the bolt cutters closed once, and the metal shackle of the lock was cut in half.
Candace acted overjoyed, rushing to open the suitcase. Sure enough, she produced a bottle of pills from one of the inside pockets.
“Thank you so, so much, Mrs. McAllister,” Candace said, beaming as they walked out of the elevator once it had reached the seventh floor.
“If those girls are harassing either of you,” the Commander said with motherly concern as she watched Fern and Candace walk down the hallway to their room, “let me know.”
“We most certainly will,” Candace responded. “Good night.”
“Good night, ladies,” the Commander added, anxiously trying to make eye contact with Fern, who was actively avoiding it. “Sleep tight.”
Fern wondered if they’d be sleeping at all that night.
The Commander turned back down her hallway. Fern was about to ask Candace one of the dozens of questions on her mind when Candace grabbed Fern’s wrist and put an index finger to her lips, signaling for Fern to shush.
As if she was waiting for something, Candace stood frozen in the hallway. Finally both girls heard the click of Mrs. McAllister’s door shutting.
“Candace, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but what are we doing?”
A smile crept over Candace’s face. “Did you take a look at the inside of the door?”
“Yes. But what’s the plan?”
Candace moved back down the hallway toward the elevator.
“Where are we going?” Fern asked, her frustration level reaching new highs.
Candace pushed the down button and whipped around. “If you’re planning on a jailbreak, you’re going to need some bolt cutters, aren’t you?”
“We can’t ask the concierge for them again—he’ll know we’re up to something.”
“That’s why,” Candace said, getting up on her tiptoes and putting her hand on Fern’s shoulder, “we’re going to steal them.”
On the elevator down to the lobby, Candace explained that if Fern really could move things with her mind, then if she thought about the dead bolt moving from the locked position to the open position, they could break into the closet and get the bolt cutters.
“But I’ve never moved something I couldn’t see before,” Fern explained, as the girls stealthily made their way past the lobby to the hallway with the janitor’s closet.
“Yes, but you’ve never not moved something you couldn’t see before either, have you?”
Candace, as usual, was confusing Fern. They were now outside the blue door of the janitor’s closet.
“Moment of truth!” Candace said, clasping her hands together with excitement. Fern closed her eyes. She imagined the bolt she had seen on the other side of the door a few minutes before. Candace watched Fern’s eyes flutter open and closed. Fern turned white. Fern visualized the bolt moving like the hand of a clock around the circular gold plate, from ten o’clock to two o’clock.
CLICK.
Candace eagerly clutched the knob and turned it. She pushed on the door.
It opened.
Fern realized that although she possessed freakish powers that were the envy of others, Candace Tutter had some pretty amazing mental powers of her own.
Before closing her eyes, Fern took a moment to review the plan she and Candace had devised. In one hand, she grasped the harmonica, which fit easily into her palm. If she heard the Quetzals, she would immediately start playing it and hope she put them to sleep before they did the same to her. If she felt faint or dizzy at all, she was going to teleport back to the hotel immediately. If she heard any noise besides the Quetzals, Fern would hide and wait it out. Miles told her that Laffar always left him alone and conscious around midnight, and she was counting on Laffar maintaining this routine.
In her other hand, Fern held the rubber grips of the bolt cutters. They were locked in the closed position, but Fern had to spread her thumb out wide to hold them in one hand. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She imagined the dim orange light, the piles of dried-out bamboo, and the crate marked NATIONAL ZOOLOGICAL PARK.
The blackness took hold.
Chapter 19
The Return Visit
Blinking her eyes until they worked again, Fern bent low to the ground, putting the harmonica to her lips, ready to blow.
Everything was quiet. Fern’s eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness of the room. She took stock of her surroundings. The bamboo was right in front of her, and to the left was the doorway that led to the smaller room holding Miles in his cage. There was no sign of the Sirens.
The stack of cages in this larger room had been toppled and was now scattered on the right side of the room. With the harmonica still pressed to her mouth, Fern bent even lower. She scanned the area more carefully, then crept silently toward the cages. She noticed a dark object in one. She tiptoed closer and then closer still. Finally she could make out a pair of shoes and legs attached to them.
There was no doubt—a person was trapped in one of the collapsed cages. Haryle Laffar had added to his prisoner count. Fern’s eyes moved up to the door of the newly occupied cage—it was padlocked. As she got closer, her suspicions were confirmed. The limp-bodied prisoner was Mr. Lin.
“Mr. Lin?” Fern whispered. He didn’t answer. He was curled up in a ball, so Fern couldn’t fully see his face.
“Mr. Lin? It’s Fern. Are you okay?” She didn’t dare raise her voice above a whisper. She caught sight of Mr. Lin’s left hand, splayed out before her. It was bruised and bloodied. Whatever it was that Laffar had done to Mr. Lin, he was clearly unable to answer. Before she moved on to find Miles, Fern figured she’d try her hand at cutting the padlock, in case they had to make a quick escape. She wished she didn’t have to use the bolt cutters at all—but since she couldn’t see the inner workings of the lock, she knew she wouldn’t be able to open it with her mind.
With her elbows jutting out from both sides like spreading wings, Fern fit the bolt-cutting blades over the lock’s U-shaped metal bar. She let out a small grunt as she snapped the cutter shut with all her might. Almost like magic, the lock broke in two and fell to the ground with a loud clang. Fern cringed as she heard the noise echoing off the ground. Nervously she spun around, trying to ensure that the noise hadn’t awakened a sleeping Siren.
Everything was still quiet.
The Siren's Cry Page 17
