All in all, he thought, with the way most people reacted to you, it was a little like being born with too many fingers, or some other defect you felt you ought to hide. So of course they'd hidden the magic—they'd even tried to suppress it until, when they got older, Tia had read all about it and found it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. In fact it was something that, as Father O'Day had said, belonged to the future.
Suddenly, for the first time in his life, Tony wondered what he and Tia could accomplish if they really tried. The possibilities startled him. What are we? he wondered. Where did we come from?
It was only by a determined effort that he finally made himself go to sleep.
The next thing he knew it was morning, and Tia was shaking him and whispering urgently, “Hurry and get dressed—we've got to leave! Mr. Deranian is outside with a policeman!”
JOURNEY
It was late in the morning and breakfast was on the table, but there was no time for it now. Tony flew into his clothes and caught up his bag. Tia, he saw, was already dressed and ready to leave. She darted past him into the storeroom, urged on by Father O'Day, who was struggling into his coat before his collar was fastened.
“Straight through to the garage,” the big man ordered. “Get in the back of the car and crouch down.”
In the garage was a small black sedan. Tony scrambled into the rear of it with Tia while the priest unlocked and threw back the door opening into the alley. Seconds later the sedan had swung right into the alley and was racing for the distant cross street.
“They're probably coming on around this way now,” Father O'Day muttered. “But I think we have a few seconds to spare. I hate to run—only there's no arguing with a court order, and I'm afraid that's what Deranian has.”
“He sure works fast,” Tony said unhappily. “Who saw him first?”
“Tia did. Had no idea he was out there, though I was already up and dressed, praise be—save for my coat and collar.” The priest was still trying clumsily to fasten his round collar, which had one end adrift in the back. Tony reached up, and with a deft movement of his fingers managed to secure the loose end.
The car slowed momentarily, then whirled into the thin traffic of the cross street. Tia whispered, “I woke up scared, so I knew something was wrong. When I heard someone knocking on the outside door, I peeked through the big room and saw them trying to get in. Mr. Deranian was talking to a policeman, and behind them was another man. I couldn't see very well. There was a green cab waiting for them.”
Tony frowned. “Would you recognize the other fellow if you saw him again?”
“I think so. He was wearing a pale-gray suit, and he seemed a lot heavier than Mr. Deranian.”
The sedan slowed for a traffic light, stopped for agonizing seconds, then shot forward and whipped around another corner. Father O'Day said quickly, “Tony, sneak a look back, but keep your head down. I saw a cab turning into the far end of the alley before we left it. If it contains our hornless adversary, we may have troubles.”
Tony raised up cautiously until he could see the street intersection they had just left. Presently he said, “You're right. It's a green cab, and they're following us.”
“Has he still got the policeman with him?”
“He sure has.”
The priest made a rumbling sound deep in his chest. “That's not so good. If we shake them, they can stop at any call box, and in two minutes have every police car in the area looking for us. We'll have to pull something out of the bag. Now listen carefully:
“I'm going to step on it and put some distance between us. When I swing around a corner, get ready to jump. I'll stop long enough to let you out. There'll be a drugstore on the corner with a side entrance… Get in there as fast as you can, and stay there till that cab goes by. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. Then you think we should head for the bus station and get tickets for Red Bank?”
There was a startled grunt. “How did you guess?”
“Seems like the most logical move—if your friend Mr. Kozak is willing.”
“Don't worry about Augie. They don't come better. I was trying to put through a call to him when that crew behind us interrupted. Anyway, I'll get him on the phone as soon as possible, and tell him to be on the lookout for you. He's a little dark fellow; nice family with two kids. Lives on an apple orchard he owns—place is four miles north of Red Bank on Cahill Road, right on the edge of the mountains.”
As he spoke, Father O'Day had been dodging through the traffic, gradually increasing speed. Now suddenly, with a murmured prayer, he ran a red light and raced for the next corner. “Drugstore's ahead,” he said. “Get set. Brace yourself as I turn the corner, but don't open the door till I brake. Good luck to you, and phone me if I'm needed—number's Waterview 624-6021. Here we go…”
There was hardly time to thank the big man for his help. Tires squealed as the car took the corner; Tony clung to the seat, then his hand shot to the door handle as he felt the brakes take hold.
In the next breath they were out of the car and running for the safety of the drugstore.
Tony did not think of Winkie until later, when they were in a cab heading for the bus station. With a sudden pang, he glanced at the shopping bag Tia was holding in her lap. It didn't have quite the bulge it had had last night.
“What's the matter?” Tia asked.
“Winkie.” Then he added hastily, “Now don't be upset. It's better if he got left behind. You know we couldn't possibly travel with him—he'd get us into more trouble…”
“Oh, Tony, do you really believe that?” She peered at him with a curious look on her small elfin face. “Because if you do, you'd better change your mind. People have to be very careful about what they believe. I've read stacks and stacks of things about beliefs and believing, and you'd be surprised—”
“Hey, what's the lecture about?”
“Winkie, of course. I told you he was a very special cat, and you've got to believe it. Who do you think woke me up this morning?”
“You telling me Winkie woke you up?”
“Of course! If he'd been a minute later… Anyway, I woke up scared because of him, and thank goodness I put on my good slacks instead of that worn-out dress. I had a feeling we'd be going on a trip.” She stopped, wrinkled her nose at him, then whispered into her bag. There was a faint meow, and Winkie thrust his sleek black head into sight.
Tony groaned. Suddenly he said, “But your bag—you must have left something behind.”
“I left that horrid old dress behind. Mrs. Grindley wouldn't let us wear slacks, you know. Just dresses. The one I was wearing came out of donations. I hated it.”
“Well, you sure look better now,” he conceded. “Especially for going places. And before I forget it, you'd better give me some of that money so I can buy tickets.”
As they entered the crowded bus station, Tony felt the sudden rise of an excitement he had never known before. They were about to continue a journey that had really started long ago. A journey that had been strangely interrupted, that even now someone was trying to prevent. There was no imagining what lay behind it all, but Stony Creek should furnish some answers…
Standing in line for tickets, he was momentarily dismayed to find himself under the watchful scrutiny of a policeman. On the chance that he might be remembered, he bought tickets for Washington instead of Red Bank. They were going through Washington anyway, and he could get tickets for the rest of the journey there.
They had nearly an hour to wait, a matter that worried him and kept him constantly on watch, though it gave them time to clean up and have something to eat in the adjoining restaurant. In the continual rush about them no one seemed to notice the small black cat on the floor between Tia's feet, quietly nibbling a hamburger she had given him.
Tony was vastly relieved when they were finally aboard their bus and headed out of the city. The bus was packed and he was unable to sit with Tia, but at the moment it didn't matter. The excitement had come bac
k. They were on their way, and no one was going to stop them.
By the time they reached Washington Tony had decided they'd better cover their trail a little more carefully. For anyone as fastmoving and resourceful as Mr. Deranian, it would be foolish to leave any clue to their destination. After a quick study of the map, he bought tickets for Fairview, the first town east of Red Bank. When they got there tomorrow, he could phone Augie Kozak to come and get them.
Again there was a long wait, but on the new bus he was able to sit with Tia. He had been wanting to talk things over with her for hours; now, though, he hardly knew where to begin, and he could feel weariness finally catching up with him.
For a while he dozed. When they were well on their way to Richmond, he shook himself awake and frowned down at Tia's bag. Winkie was still curled in it asleep.
“I told you not to worry about him,” Tia reminded him. “He'll be all right till we change buses again.”
They would change buses, he remembered, late that night at a place called Winston-Salem.
“We've a lot to figure out,” he began. “Have you been able to remember anything else?”
“Not yet. But, Tony, I believe we can figure some things out if we just start at the right place.”
“Where's that?”
“With us.”
“Huh?” He frowned at her.
“That's right, with us. Tony, what are we? Have you any idea at all?”
He shook his head. “I was wondering the same thing last night.”
“Well, I've been thinking…”
“Let's have it.”
“Tony, it's only half an idea, mainly something I feel. It's hard to put it into words. But it's something I've always felt a little—because of our being so different, I mean—only I didn't like to face it. I suppose for a long time I hated to admit we were different.”
“I know what you mean. When you're the way we are, people make you afraid to be yourself. And most people want to be like everybody else. If we could only live in a place where everyone expects you to be different…”
“We will, Tony. I'm sure that's the sort of place we're going to.”
“We'll have to find it first,” he muttered. “And that's no answer to what we are.”
“It is in a way!” she insisted. “Don't you see? If there are more people as different as we are, then, well—maybe we're members of a different race of people. Sort of like the Gypsies.”
“Could be,” he admitted. “Only I wish we had a little more to go on.”
“Oh, we have! Don't you remember what Sister Amelia said was in the letter she got?”
“How do you mean?”
“She said the man who wrote it wanted information about certain unusual aptitudes in her pupils. And that it was for some kind of research he was doing.”
“Certain unusual aptitudes?” He blinked at her. “I'd almost forgotten that.”
He considered it a while, and suddenly exclaimed, “Say, that sounds as if he was really searching for people like us. Only he was being careful about it, so it wouldn't cause too much attention.”
“Tony,” she replied slowly, “I believe he was searching for us. If he was, then it proves that we didn't just happen. I mean, like being born with red hair in a family where everyone's hair was dark. You see, we were so little when we were brought to Granny's, and no one could even have guessed what we'd be like later—unless we came from people where everyone is expected to be different in all sorts of ways.”
She paused, then added, “So I say we came from a different race of people, like the Gypsies, and that we got lost from them, and that man who wrote Sister Amelia was looking for us.”
Maybe it was sort of far out, but it did make sense. He looked at her with a new respect. Most of the time she was only a timid and much-too-sensitive kid sister who had to be protected. But at other times, like now, she was miles ahead of him.
Gypsies, he thought. Maybe so. The double star on the letter and the box proved something, as did the map with the money in it, and the marked bus route—the route that ended at Stony Creek, which surely must be near the Blue Ridge area where the letter had come from.
Tony squirmed in the bus seat, then closed his eyes and concentrated on Stony Creek. This time it came clear. It wasn't much to look at—a row of shops and a filling station, and a bridge over a rushing stream. Abruptly he changed his mind and decided it was something to look at, because the stream was so clear you could see the pebbles in the bottom, and it was wonderful to watch it coming down over the rocks, making a series of white cascades under the crowding trees. The few cars in sight looked expensive, and he decided that their owners must have summer homes somewhere near.
It was the sort of place you could dream about—but, what were Tia's Gypsies doing there?
“Tia,” he said, “let's go back to the ship again. Before Mr. Deranian came. There must be something…”
“But, Tony, I've told you everything I can.”
“You only think you have,” he insisted. “If I keep asking questions, something's bound to come back.”
“I'm so tired. We didn't get much sleep last night, and I can hardly keep my eyes open now. If we have to change buses tonight, we may not get any sleep at all.”
“Well, O.K. Maybe we'd better get some rest.”
They adjusted their seats and lay back with their eyes closed. Tony drifted off; he must have slept for a while, because when he opened his eyes again, the scene outside had changed. Instead of the continual works of man, he was glimpsing the first real rural country he had ever seen. Heron Lake hadn't prepared him for anything like this.
Reluctantly he turned his attention to Tia when he heard her sudden whisper.
“Tony, I've just remembered something.”
“Huh? What?”
“Tony, we spoke another language when we first came to live with Granny.”
He looked at her incredulously. “You're kidding!”
“It's true,” she insisted. “I didn't realize it before; that may be why it's been so hard to remember about the ship.”
“Any idea what the language was?”
“No, except it was very different from English. We seem to have known a little English too, but we didn't think in English like we do now.”
“What language did the people on the ship speak?”
“I—I'm not sure. It may have been Spanish part of the time, though I'm just guessing. I believe the captain spoke English—at least to us.”
“No one spoke the other language?”
“Someone did. I—I—” She faltered, and her face twisted as if she were in pain. Then she whispered, “Uncle Bené spoke it.”
Tony held his breath. Quietly he asked, “Who was Uncle Bené?”
“I—I—” Tears sprang to Tia's eyes, and she began to tremble. Suddenly she put her hands over her face. “I—I think he died,” she whispered. “Please—please don't ask me any more. Not now.”
“O.K.”
Uncle Bené. He began repeating the name over and over in his mind. It was like a tiny glow far away in the darkness of yesterday. When he was little there'd been someone he'd called Uncle Bené; someone who, for a short time, had been very important to him. The name had meant comfort and safety in a time of terror.
He was still trying to recall the person who went with the name when they rolled into another station for a dinner stop that evening. Tia said little while they ate. Her small face was pinched, and in her eyes was the shadowed fear that always came when memory groped too far.
Later, on the bus, he said, “Stop worrying about Uncle Bené. He'll come back to us both if we don't try too hard.”
“I can't help it,” she told him. “The things that happened to us are beginning to seem so close—so close I can almost see them. Only, I—I can't make myself look at them.”
“Forget about it till tomorrow. Let's think about us again.” He frowned. “I've been wondering where Mr. Deranian could have le
arned anything about us. Whatever he knows, he must have picked it up recently. But who from?”
“I think he got it from someone abroad,” said Tia. “And I'll bet he's being paid to take us back.”
“Well, he'll never catch us.”
“I'd feel better if we knew what he was doing now. Tony, can't you see him?”
“You know I can't see people the way I can places. Anyhow, it's dark.”
“You can try. Tony, if we just practiced more and really tried, I'm sure we could do all sorts of things we never thought of.”
“Yeah, I think you're right.”
He closed his eyes and concentrated on Mr. Deranian. “I see a city,” he said presently. “A city street with a lot of traffic. It could be Washington, but I'm not sure. If Mr. Deranian's there, I can't see him. There are so many people…”
While the bus sped on through the night, he tried again and again. But the pictures became dimmer, and all he learned was that the city was Washington, for once he had a vague glimpse of the Capitol.
Had Lucas Deranian actually traced them as far as Washington?
He fell into a troubled sleep finally. When he awakened it was nearly three in the morning, and they were entering Winston-Salem, where they were to change buses for Fairview.
Their next bus did not leave until long after daylight. Winkie accounted for part of the wait by scampering off in an alley after they fed him a hamburger outside. Later, in the nearly empty station with Winkie back in Tia's bag, they curled on a bench to get what rest they could. Unfortunately they were seen entering the station by a policeman who had not been around when they arrived.
The officer was pleasant, but he insisted upon knowing where they had come from.
“Washington,” said Tony, figuring that half the truth was all that safety would permit. “We got here on the last bus.”
“Oh? And where are you going?”
“Fairview.”
“I see. You live in Fairview?”
“No, sir. We're just going to visit some of our people.” Tony was wide awake and worried by now, though he was pretending to be half asleep. The policeman jotted something in his notebook. “What's your name, young fellow?”
Escape to Witch Mountain Page 5
