“Let’s get her down off the mountain,” I said.
I was having a powerful Sunday-school fantasy: perhaps this little angel was a messenger from God. But if she was, what was the message? And who was it for?
Chapter 55
HARDING THOMAS was furious, absolutely enraged. He kicked hard at the mound of ashes heaped in the campfire. A gray cloud of soot rose from the ground.
The fire was cold, and there was no telling how long ago it had burned out, or who had been there.
Except that he’d found a long white feather nearby on the ground. She had been right here, and not long ago.
He turned to Matthew, his bait, only that plan didn’t seem to be working out so far. “She’s losing her precious feathers.”
“Like hell,” Matthew sneered, but there was fear in his eyes. He knew. “She’s smarter than you, times a hundred.”
“Maybe so, but we’ll find her soon. She’s not far from here.”
Thomas put the white feather in his cap band and removed a cell phone from its leather pouch on his hip. He didn’t want to make this call, but it had to be done. It was his duty. He tapped out a few numbers and was connected.
The reception was as clear as the mountain air. He weighed and measured each word as he spoke to the person on the other end.
“She’s still out here, not in plain sight, but we’re very close. Unfortunately, she might be getting help. Someone may have found her in the woods, or maybe she found them. No, I don’t know that for certain, and I don’t know who the hell it is. Maybe campers, or backpackers. We’ll soon find out. Unlucky sons of bitches, whoever they are.”
Chapter 56
THE DOSE OF KETAMINE had worn off and the girl was literally bouncing off the walls. My cabin was too far from anything for anyone to hear her violent pounding and loud thumping, but I could hear her. Kit could hear her. We weren’t concerned about the noise. We were afraid she would hurt herself.
I sat beside the door to the spare room. I talked to her through the door, soothingly, I hoped.
Of course, I had no idea what to say, where to start, or even how to communicate with her. But I knew, I thought, this would probably be the most important conversation of my entire life.
“My name’s Frannie,” I began, trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible under the circumstances. “I’d like to be your friend. I want to help you. I’m sorry about what happened up on the mountain.”
The pounding stopped for a second, then it resumed again, even louder, wilder, and angrier.
“I’m real sorry about what happened back there, sweetheart. You’re safe here, even if it doesn’t seem like it. We had to catch you in order to help you. I don’t like holding you against your will.”
The kicking and pounding, and shrill, frustrated screams continued. I had no idea whether she understood a single word I’d said. It certainly didn’t seem like it.
I kept talking, anyway.
Talking very slowly, calmly, I told her that I was a veterinarian, a doctor who cared for animals, who cared about animals. It happened to be the truth, however self-serving, and that seemed like a good place to start with her.
“I wish I knew something about you,” I said. “Since I first saw you on the road that night, I’ve been worried about you. I’m pretty sure you’re hungry. Am I right? I wonder if there are people who love you and are looking for you right now….”
She was quiet for a moment. I breathed a sigh of relief. Had she finally understood?
Then the noisy commotion began again. She started kicking the walls, and I was afraid the place would fall apart. If I thought she’d been wild and crazy before, now she was really wound up. She let out a high-pitched shriek that could have shattered plate glass. What a syrinx she had.
I lowered my voice. I didn’t even know if she could hear me, but I started talking again. “Are you hungry?” I asked. “My friend is a very good cook and he’s making lunch. Spaghetti with tomato sauce. Do you like spaghetti?”
I stopped talking—held my breath.
Then I heard the distinct sound of sobbing. It was no longer hysterical screaming. It was more an exhausted crying, pitiful, and the sound was heartbreaking to me.
Did she understand? Sometimes she seemed to, but then I couldn’t tell. I really wanted to help her. Strange—I wanted her to like me, too.
I knew what I had to do next. I took a very deep breath, then I exhaled slowly. “I’m going to open the door. I promise I won’t hurt you. I promise, I promise…. Don’t hurt me, okay?”
I opened the door just a crack and peered in. The girl was hunched over in the bed against the wall. She looked wired, unbelievably tense, and maybe ready to spring at me. Oh Jesus! I had the thought that she was larger than some mountain cats.
Don’t be afraid of her, at least don’t show it.
I cautiously slipped inside the room. My legs were definitely a shaky and unreliable means of transportation. My mouth was dry.
Then I did the unthinkable—I closed the door behind me.
Frannie the Sap.
I squatted down so that I wasn’t standing over her. Animals feel less threatened with me that way. So what if I was completely open and vulnerable to an attack. I didn’t think she would go after me.
I saw tears sliding down both her cheeks. She looked just awful, incredibly sad, used up. She was sniffling and hiccuping and crying all at the same time. She seemed so human, and in so much pain. She was breaking my heart and I didn’t know how to help her.
Justalittle girl. All alone, obviously sad. What had happened to her?
“Aw, Jeez,” I said softly. “I wish I knew what to do for you, sweetheart. I’m really, really not going to hurt you. Neither is Kit.”
The girl wiped her face on her arm. The gesture was familiar and reassuring, very human and childlike. She was still staring at me. Her bright green eyes were intensely beautiful, brimming with tears.
Then she opened her small mouth. She looked like she was trying to communicate something. What was it?
“I’d like some spaghetti, please.”
Chapter 57
I’D LIKE SOME SPAGHETTI, PLEASE.
The little girl could talk.
Kit had to see this. Right now. I wanted him to see and hear her. Good God Almighty! I wanted the entire civilized world to hear this.
Just then Kit called out, “Frannie, soup’s on.”
I have no idea on earth what my face must have looked like at that moment. But I was striving for composure when I said to the girl, “Shall we go to the table? That’s Kit. I think the spaghetti’s ready.”
She whispered, “I’d like to wash my hands.”
Wash her hands? We were actually carrying on a conversation. We were, weren’t we? Oh God.
“Just a minute,” I called out to Kit. He had no idea! My voice was a muffled squawk, but I thought he’d heard me.
I opened the door for the little girl and she walked out past me. I’d asked her to trust me; I had to show some trust, too. She took a few steps, then turned back.
She hesitated. Her eyes held a question.
“Oh yeah,” I said and smiled. “Turn right.”
She smiled back at me. The girl smiled at me and I melted. She was absolutely beautiful, and also charming. She was a little girl, for God’s sake. She couldn’t be any older than eleven or twelve.
I gave her a fresh towel and washcloth. “Thank you,” she said, and closed the door to the bathroom. I heard her using the facilities and it seemed so unreal. The tap water ran, then shut off. Kit wasn’t going to believe this. Hell, I almost didn’t believe it myself.
A few moments later, the bathroom doorknob turned slowly and the girl opened the door. She emerged slowly, first just peeking cautiously around the doorjamb. God, she was something else! Her eyes were intelligent, probing mine. She’d washed her face until it was pink and shining. She was such a little beauty. How in hell had this miracle happened? How could it be?
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“Come on. Let’s eat,” I said.
“Spaghetti? Or soup?” she asked, then grinned.
I smiled at her.
I got it. She’d made a little joke.
“Very cute,” I told her. “You’re funny.”
“Yeah,” she continued talking. “I’m cute as a button. So they say.”
They? Who the hell was “they”?
I pointed. “That way. Straight down the hall.”
Chapter 58
THE TWO OF US entered the tiny dining area just as Kit was bringing a full pitcher of sun tea to the table. He started, fumbled, but nimbly caught the pitcher as it was headed toward the floor. Good hands.
He recovered his cool admirably. The G-man. He carefully set the pitcher of tea down. He wiped his wet palms on the back of his jeans.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “I see we’ve cleared up our little differences.”
“Maybe,” the girl said. “We’ll see.”
I saw Kit’s jaw actually drop. It fell a good four inches. “Oh. Well, that’s nice to hear.”
It was amazing that the wild creature of just hours ago, the one who’d tried to break his bones, the one who’d bitten him, was talking to him now. She was witty and funny, too. Where had she learned to talk, and how to act? Where had she come from?
“This is my friend Kit,” I said to the girl.
“Hello,” she said softly. “You’re the cook, right?”
Kit’s jaw dropped again. He nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s me. The chief cook and bottlewasher around here.”
I pulled out a chair for her and the girl wriggled into it. “Thank you,” she said. She was polite, too.
I went to the kitchen, as if this were the most natural thing in the world to do. Alone in there, I tried to stop myself from hyperventilating, tried to get a grip. I brought out the salad bowl, utensils, napkins. I brought a dinner plate for the girl. Placed everything on the table.
My arms, my legs, my hands, everything felt strangely disconnected and discombobulated. My hands were clammy. My body felt as if it were lost in space. I was suffering a little tunnel vision. Other than that, no problem.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her as I attempted to toss the salad.
“Kit,” I said.
He looked at me. Didn’t understand. “Yes, Frannie?”
“The spaghetti,” I said. “Some of us are starved.”
“Oh. Right.” He stumbled against a chair, righted it, and went back to the kitchen. He soon returned with the steaming bowl of pasta.
All the while the girl was watching our every move. I was still trying to look nonchalant and wondered if either of them could hear my heart racing, pumping like an old oil well. Did the girl really trust us at all? Would she suddenly bolt from the table? Try to escape from the cabin?
Kit spoke to her, and he still sounded unbelievably calm. “May I take your plate?” he asked.
She nodded and he slid the plate out from in front of her. He heaped it with spaghetti and covered it with pomodoro sauce. Then he sat down next to me. He served me and finally himself.
The girl looked at him with her perfectly round, bright green eyes. She was waiting for something. What was it? We both hung on her every word. How could we not? What would she tell us next? What would she reveal?
“Go ahead,” Kit said. He smiled that dazzler of his. “Eat, please.”
“Eat the soup,” she said in a straight deadpan.
Kit didn’t get it, but the girl and I laughed again. She wasn’t just bright, she had good social skills. Where did she get them? Where had she grown up? She had definitely been around adults before.
She folded her hands tightly on the table and closed her eyes. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.
“Thank you, Lord, for this good food, this very good spaghetti. Amen,” she said.
Tears just leaped out of my eyes.
Chapter 59
MAX EASED BACK AND FORTH in the antique rocking chair on the porch, just like any ordinary little girl on a beautiful summer morning.
She was wearing Koss earphones, listening to Meredith Brooks sing a little rocker called “Bitch.” She felt calm—calmer, anyway. She wanted to trust the two of them, but she was still afraid, paranoid, a little nutso.
Afraid of your own shadow, aren’t you, Maximum?
The tall, blond man named Kit was inside the house, talking to someone on a telephone. She worried about who it was. He made really good spaghetti—the best she’d ever tasted—but that didn’t mean she could trust him with what she knew, with her darkest, deepest secrets, with the whole truth and nothing but the truth about the School.
Frannie had gone for a walk. She said she’d be back in about ten minutes, maybe sooner. She promised that she was bringing back a surprise. We’d see about that. And what kind of surprise?
Max knew that not all surprises were good. Understatement of the year! Most of the surprises in her life sucked big time.
She wanted Frannie and Kit to help her, but she had to find out if they were really good people, if they were worthy of her trust. She definitely liked the fact that they seemed to trust her. That made it easier. Frannie told her that it was okay to go in and out of the house as she pleased. Frannie seemed real nice and easy to be around. And so did Kit, actually.
The outside door at the School was always locked, Max remembered. She felt a shiver knife through her body. Bad memories flooded her brain.
She and Matthew had called it the Flight School. Two pretty good reasons. Number one, because the two of them desperately wanted to fly the hell out of there. Number two, because they were forbidden to fly at the School. So—the Flight School.Aprotest!
She’d been absolutely forbidden to go outside at the School. Under pain of being put to sleep.
But here she was. Awake. Alive. Listening to “Bitch.”
The one time the guards had left a door open—the only time she remembered them ever being sloppy—she and Matthew had bolted. Flew the coop, as Matthew said, hollered and whooped, actually.
Max tucked her knees up under her chin. She admired how her legs looked in the black stretch pants Frannie had given her. She also liked the big blue shirt Kit was letting her wear. “FBI” was printed on it.
She had a suspicious thought. The blue shirt covered her wings so that she couldn’t fly.
But it was clean and smelled nice and she didn’t want to fly, anyway. Not right now. She wanted to sit in the creaky old rocking chair and listen to rock and roll and eat chocolate-chip cookies until they came out of her nose. God—unlimited cookies. What an idea.
The rock music played and she liked the rhythm. It kind of matched up with her heartbeat. That was the trick of it, wasn’t it?
She was thinking that if Frannie’s “surprise” was good, maybe she’d tell her one of the secrets about the School.
Just one secret, though.
Maybe about Matthew.
Or maybe she’d tell about Adam? Or start with poor Eve? The terrible, terrible night the two of them were put to sleep.
Maybe Kit and Frannie could help her find Matthew.
Her hands clenched automatically. This was very scary territory. One thing had been drilled into her time and time again. She could get into terrible trouble if she ever talked.
People could die, starting with her, and then anyone she talked to.
Chapter 60
PIP WAS PULLING ME through the woods as if he were the engine of a miniature runaway train. Cicadas shrilled, close up and far away. Everything felt like a dream, but it definitely wasn’t one, was it.
“Hold on, fool,” I yelled ahead, but Pip completely ignored me.
I was carrying all kinds of junk on my back: clothes for Max, a little black bag, a 35mm camera—and Pip was intent on being at the cabin—now.
The lead finally jerked out of my hands and he was gone, scampering on ahead, dragging rope and chain behind him, yapping his fool head off.
> “Pip! You little snip!”
The girl never had a chance to hear him with those damned earphones on her head. I dropped my pack and ran, but it was too late. He was all over her. Dear God. Would she know Pip was just a small, overeager dog? That he was nothing to be afraid of?
Then I could hear her laughing and the small, playful dog’s yipping, and it was just about the neatest sound in the world. It certainly would do for right now.
Kit came flying out through the front door just as I got to the bottom steps of the cabin. He looked concerned—until he correctly sized up the situation.
“Is this my surprise?” the girl asked. Meanwhile, the squirming hunk of dog was slobbering all over her.
“Pip, manners,” I said. “Yep, he’s the surprise.”
The girl said, “We have dogs at the School. Bandit and Gomer.”
I glanced at Kit. We filed the tidbit away for later.
“This is Pip,” I said. “He’s a good little pup.”
The girl smiled. “Hello, Pip,” she said.
She picked up a stick and Pip went nuts; backing up, wagging his snippet of a tail, and yapping like the little whirligig and madman that he is.
The girl looked thoughtful for a moment, then she spoke.
“I’m Max,” she said, telling us her name for the first time. Then she threw the stick. “Go fetch, Pip.”
Chapter 61
I NEEDED TO EXAMINE Max for injuries and possible malnutrition. I couldn’t wait to start. The suspense, the drama, was overwhelming. Most doctors would kill for this opportunity, and perhaps someone had.
I stood outside the familiar and usually nonthreatening door to the spare room of my house and I took one of the deepest breaths of my entire breathing career. Kit and I had just been talking about bringing Max to the “authorities,” the local police, or maybe even to the University of Colorado at Boulder.
When the Wind Blows Page 14
