by Bill Myers
Bruno nodded, then stopped. “But how do I know they’re stupid if I don’t ask ’em?”
Silas sighed. “Because you’re going to try something brand new.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll try thinking before you speak.”
Bruno frowned, not completely sure he understood the concept. Then summoning up all his brain cells, he answered, “Huh?”
Silas answered. “We’ve been looking for this kid eight months now — checking newspaper articles, surfing the Net — and then, out of the blue, he suddenly winds up on TV?”
Bruno grinned. “Yeah, some coincidence, huh?”
“Yeah, right. That was no coincidence.”
“You think Shadow Man had something to do with it?”
Silas shrugged. He never liked talking about the head of their organization. To be honest, the man gave him the willies.
“Come on,” he said, changing the subject. “Let’s get packed and grab the kid.”
Chapter Two
On the Run
Mom furiously threw clothes into each of her three children’s suitcases.
They’d been discovered. Found out. And in a matter of time they’d be taken. But not all of them, just one.
Just Elijah.
She heard car tires screech outside. She raced to the bedroom window to see a strange trio leap out of a green van and start down the sidewalk. First, there was a redheaded woman. Somehow she had learned the delicate art of stomping in high heels. Behind her was a giant of a man. And, last but not least, was a skinny, short man with a long, pointed nose . . . who was carrying a gun!
“Honey!” her husband shouted as he raced up the stairs.
“I see them,” she called.
He entered the room. “We’ll have to draw them off.”
“As decoys?”
He nodded. “I’ll leave a note. The kids can meet up with us tonight.”
“Oh, Mike . . .” Once again, tears filled her eyes.
“It’s the only way, sweetheart.” His own voice thickened with emotion. “For now, it’s all we can do.”
Monica sent Bruno to the back of the house while she and Silas knocked at the front door.
There was no answer.
She knocked harder.
Repeat in the no-answer department.
She turned to Silas. “You may have to break it in.”
Silas squirmed. “I’m not the break-down-the-door guy. That’s Bruno’s department.” Suddenly he brightened. “But I’ll be happy to shoot off the lock if you want.”
Monica gave him a look.
It’s not that Silas was a gun nut; he just had this thing about blowing things up first and asking questions later. The worst was the time Bruno brought home a battery-operated puppy for Monica’s birthday. (It really wasn’t her birthday, but it was the thought that counted. Actually, in Bruno’s case it wasn’t the thought, either, since thoughts were not exactly something he specialized in.)
Anyway, once Monica rejected the gift (she always rejected Bruno’s gifts), Bruno pretended it was his birthday. After a rousing chorus of “Happy Birthday to Me,” he unwrapped the toy.
“Oh, what a wonderful surprise,” he shouted.
Next came the hard part — figuring out how to put the batteries in. Once he accomplished that, Bruno turned on the toy and let it loose on the floor. Immediately, the mechanical puppy began prancing around and barking.
Silas, who was trying to watch a baseball game on TV, wasn’t impressed.
“Will you turn that thing off ?” he demanded. “I’m watching the game!”
“Oh, sorry,” Bruno said.
But before he could turn it off he had to catch it. And since the only thing worse than Bruno’s brain function was his coordination, he was never quite able to apprehend the crafty little toy.
“Turn it off !” Silas shouted.
“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Bruno said.
Finally, Silas saved him the effort.
The first shot sent the mechanical puppy into the air.
The second blew its little head off.
The third turned it into a pile of gears, fake fur, and a warranty label they somehow suspected was no longer valid.
Yes, Silas definitely had a thing about blowing stuff up.
Back at the house, the garage door behind them began to rise. Monica spun around to see a blue Jeep Cherokee backing out.
“They’re trying to get away!” she cried.
They took off for the garage but were too slow. The car barreled backward down the driveway and onto the road, where it skidded to a stop. Then, with tires squealing, it peeled out and zoomed up the street.
“Get ’em!” Monica screamed as she turned for their van.
Unfortunately, Silas didn’t turn as quickly as she did, which meant he crashed into her . . . and fell onto the driveway . . . where they got tangled up together.
After flopping around a bit, Silas finally pulled his foot out of her purse, and she pulled her arm out of his shirt. At last they scrambled to their feet and raced for the van.
“Don’t let them get away!”
As they headed home from school, Zach was his usual irritating self.
“So you’re a big TV star now,” he teased.
“What?” Piper asked.
“Couple kids saw it at lunch — you and Elijah were all over the news.”
“Great,” Piper sighed. “Mom and Dad aren’t going to like that.”
Zach nodded. “It’s not exactly the low profile they tell us to keep.”
Piper threw a look over her shoulder to Elijah, who was his usual fifty steps behind. This time he’d been stopped by three older kids.
“Hey, it’s miracle boy,” one of them taunted.
“Yeah,” another said. “How ’bout doing a trick for us, Freako?”
Without thinking, Piper launched into her attack mode. It made no difference that there were three of them and one of her, or that their backs were to her so she didn’t know how tough they were.
The point is, they were going after Elijah, so she was going after them.
“Leave him alone!” she shouted.
She grabbed the nearest kid who had just arrived. She spun him around only to see that it was . . . Cody.
“Hey . . . uh, Piper.”
She swallowed then croaked, “Leave my brother alone!”
“Right, I was just — ”
“You heard me!”
“I know, that’s what I was telling — ”
“I don’t care how gorgeous you think you are, you don’t mess with my brother!”
She pulled up her sleeves and glared at the other two boys like she was ready for a fight. They exchanged nervous looks, as if they were dealing with a crazy person.
“That goes for you too!”
Not wanting to tangle, particularly with a crazy person, they backed away. Then they turned and sauntered off. They fired off the expected insults, but Piper didn’t care. She’d made her point. No one messed with her little brother.
It was about this time that she noticed Elijah tugging on her sleeve. She turned to him. “What?”
He pointed to Cody and shook his head.
“What?” she repeated.
Cody coughed slightly and explained, “I think he’s telling you I was trying to help.”
“Wh . . . what?” She looked to Cody, then back to Elijah, who nodded broadly.
“Those two goons were giving him a rough time, so I came over to — ”
“Hey, Cody,” Zach strolled up to them. “I see Holster and Larson were trying to be tough guys again.”
“Yeah,” Cody agreed. “They’ll never learn.”
Zach nodded. “Looks like you scared them off .”
“Actually, I think Piper did most of the scaring.”
All three turned to Piper, whose ears were suddenly burning red hot. “You . . . you were trying to help? She stammered. “I thought — ”
“Yeah, I figured,” Cody said. He flashed her that killer grin.
Piper tried to answer, but it’s pretty hard talking with your jaw hanging open.
Cody cranked up his grin even brighter. “Don’t sweat it. Truth is, I like people who stand up for others. A lot.”
Piper may have nodded. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that her mouth was still hanging open (and she was praying there was no drool).
“Maybe I can give you a call sometime?” he asked. “I mean if you don’t mind.”
If her jaw was hanging open before, it was dragging on the ground now.
“Piper?”
She tried moving her mouth, but nothing happened.
He spoke again. “Piper?”
“Uh-huh,” she heard herself croak.
“If I’m going to call you . . . I’ll need your cell number.”
“Uh-huh.”
He paused, waiting. Was it her imagination or was his friendly smile turning into a look of pity?
At last, Zach came to her rescue. “It’s 484 – 1601, right, Pipe?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Great.” Cody grabbed a pen and wrote it on the back of his hand.
“Thanks for helping out,” Zach said. “With Elijah, I mean.”
“No prob.” Cody answered as he turned and started up the sidewalk.
Piper wasn’t sure how long she stood there. All she remembered was Zach putting his arm around her shoulder and easing her in the direction of their house.
“Come along now,” he said gently. “Everything will be all right.”
Mom and Dad sped down the entrance ramp and merged onto the freeway. The green van was close behind . . . and getting closer by the second.
“They’re closing in,” Dad said, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Can we outrun them?” Mom asked.
“I doubt it. But we can stay ahead of them long enough for the kids to see the note and get away.”
“What happened?” Piper said as they stood in the middle of the kitchen. The vacuum cleaner was out, unwashed dishes sat in the sink, and the floor was covered with clothes from the dryer.
“Looks like they were in a hurry,” Zach said as he opened the fridge to get some milk.
“Thank you, TV news!” Piper drolled. “They also left the garage door open.”
Grabbing a dirty glass from the sink, Zach asked, “You don’t think anything serious could have happened, do you?”
Piper cringed as he poured the milk into the filthy glass.
He looked at her. “What?”
She started to explain and then stopped. With Zach it would do no good.
Elijah spotted a note on the counter. Silently, he scooped it up and handed it to Piper.
“What’s that?” Zach asked between gulps.
“It’s from Mom and Dad,” Piper said. She began reading:
“No time to explain. Meet us at Aunt Myrna’s tonight.Take everything you need in case we can’t come back.”
Zach stopped drinking. “Can’t come back?”
“Oh no,” Piper groaned. “It’s happening again, isn’t it?”
Zach frowned. “Maybe . . . but Aunt Myrna’s all the way in Pasadena. We don’t even know her address.”
Piper tapped the note. “It’s right here.”
“Anything else?”
“Just a Bible verse.” Since they were kids, Mom and Dad always ended their notes with a verse from the Bible.
Zach finished the milk and belched. “Which one?”
Piper read the verse:
“‘Lo, I am with you always . . .’ Matthew twenty-eight, verse twenty.”
“That’s it?” Zach asked.
“Almost.” Piper swallowed. “There’s one last word.”
“Which is . . . ?”
“Hurry!”
Monica Specter squinted through the dirty windshield as Silas drew closer to the Jeep.
“I don’t see no kids in there,” Bruno called from the backseat.
“Neither do I,” Silas said. Turning to Monica, he asked, “Should I force them off the road?”
Silas liked crashing into cars as much as he liked blowing up battery-operated puppies. Unfortunately, Monica had a better idea.
Unfortunately, because the last thing in the world she wanted to do was put a call in to her boss. He was creepy. And not as in a little weird. He was creepy as in A LOT WEIRD.
Maybe it was his voice — the way it sort of slithered around your mind and hissed in your ears. Slithered and hissed the way rattlesnakes do.
Or maybe it was his tremendous size. He wasn’t a little overweight, he was REALLY OVERWEIGHT. Picture Jabba the Hutt from Star Wars. Yeah, that was pretty close to his size.
Actually, neither his voice nor his weight was a problem compared to his face. The reason? She never saw it. Well, it was there and everything, stuck on top of his neck like everyone else’s. But she could never quite make it out. It always seemed to lurk and hide in shadows. Even in the brightest light, she still couldn’t see his face.
In any case, despite all these lovely reasons she didn’t want to call, she knew the time had come. Whether she liked it or not, she knew what she had to do.
Monica took a deep breath, reached into her purse for her cell phone, and began to dial.
The office was black. Not black as in dark with no lights, but black as in all black — black carpet, black desk, black phones. Even the pens and paper clips were black.
The phone rang only once before a shadowy form reached over and picked it up.
“Yesss,” it hissed in a strange, quivering voice.
“Got them in sight, sir,” Monica said over the phone. “But I’m not sure the kid is with them.”
“What?!” the dark form demanded.
“We’re coming up on Lankersham Boulevard.
Should we force them off the road?”
“Leave that to me. I shall contact othersss.”
“But — ”
“Just find the boy!”
“Yes, sir,” Monica said.
Without another word, the shadow creature slammed down the phone.
“They’re peeling off,” Dad called as he looked through the mirror.
Mom turned to see the green van taking the exit ramp behind them. “Do you think they’ve given up?” she asked.
He said nothing, and she turned to him. The weary expression on his face said more than she wanted to know.
They drove in silence through the traffic — five, ten minutes — lost in their own thoughts, recalling memories of how time after time they had to pull up stakes and leave. In the early days, they’d tried going to the police. But what could they tell them? That their son had been born with strange gifts? That there was an organization connected to a dark, sinister force that would stop at nothing to get their hands on him?
Not exactly the type of thing police would believe.
Dad slowed the Jeep, and Mom looked up as they came to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Looks like an accident ahead. An overturned truck or something.”
She nodded and returned to her thoughts. Even before he was born, she knew Elijah was different. To this day, she remembered the crazy man on the street who stopped her when she was pregnant. The one who started telling her all the things her baby would do and how he was even mentioned in the Bible. Then there was the —
The banging on the Jeep window jarred Mom from her thoughts. She spun around to see a good-looking man in a suit.
He motioned for her to roll down the window.
Throwing a look to Dad, who nodded, she reached for the button and rolled it down.
“Hello, there,” he said in a thick Australian accent.
“Leave everything and walk away with me. We’ve got a car waiting on the other side of the freeway.”
