Malcolm had said to take everything and he would make sure he and Tim caught a ride into town with one of the police units.
Melody volunteered to drive the lead van and somehow Corinne ended up in the front passenger seat. I could feel her shield flex and ripple over us all, Kara too, now that she was clean.
Maggie took the middle row with David, Kevin and the twins. Kara, James and I took the first row and we ended up with Swindell, Martinez, Worley and some other guard we didn’t know squeezed in at the back—fourteen passengers in all, technically fifteen, if you counted Silver even though my twin didn’t take up any extra space.
Silver sniped, “Gee, thanks for that thought. Glad to be so compact for your convenience, Sister.”
She was just worried about being separated from Mez and Kal who had volunteered to mind the two buses for extra security since they would be filled with mostly the elderly and families with small children. I ignored her snipe to lean forward between the two front seats for a better view of the GPS console, causing our leather duster to creak in protest. There seemed to be a hesitant, wary acceptance of the two Axsians even with Mez’s unapologetic refusal to disguise his alien features.
A long slender black finger depressed the home icon on the touch screen, flashing a Lubbock address that was of course unfamiliar, as was most of the town. It meant something to Corinne and Melody though because they shared a look before our aunt’s best friend put the van in drive and depressed the accelerator gently, easing the van forward on the hardpan with the crackling sound of rocks rubbing against one another.
We had to stop when we got to where the gate used to be and wait for the convoy to organize like a funeral procession with no hearse.
While we waited, I let our gaze wander across the surrounding open fields, taking in the destruction. Originally the compound had had four retired school buses and we could see one of them off to the side of the tornado’s land trail, split in two like a broken pencil. Some debris was recognizable and some wasn’t. Really we were just glad it wasn’t dismembered or grievously injured human beings out in that field as we finally began to drive by.
It took about forty-five minutes and three stops for stragglers before our convoy of survivors made it into town. Lubbock, like most cities we’d guess, had its genteel stately homes tucked in odd spots here and there—as a population grows its dynamics change, sometimes leaving mixed results. Old things get torn down and new put up until twenty years down the road a certain part of town is hardly recognizable from the pictures one might store in their memory, leaving doubts about the nature of reality.
The GPS steered us electronically to continue on a major street, past a sporting goods store, a public library, a large daycare and a doctor’s office on the left side. On the right we passed the welcome center for a small Christian university and several homes that looked like mini-mansions with three car garages. Down the side streets we saw regular lower middle class homes hidden behind the barrier of affluence and commerce with peeling paint trims and older model cars on the curbs.
The destination flag on the touch screen started to blink as we drew up to an older gated community with mixed dark and light brown brick walls and a black wrought iron gate that reminded us of a portcullis for some reason even though it obviously opened to the side.
A prim woman stood next to the entry keypad with a clipboard and pen in hand. As Melody rolled to a stop she smiled, exposing teeth so bleached they made her gums look red. Just a speck of her coral pink lipstick had strayed to one front tooth and her hair wasn’t moving in the wind at all. She motioned with her pen in a friendly but imperious way for Melody to lower the driver’s side window.
Once the hum of the electric window was silent her voice came through crisply efficient and filled with the expectation that her question wasn’t really a question but an assertion of fact. “Melody Moore?”
Head cocked to the side Melody ignored the clipboard and pen the waiting stranger offered to inquire, “Who’s asking?”
The clipboard and pen disappeared to be replaced by a steady sideways palm as the stranger cleared her throat daintily and responded, “Excuse me, ma’am. I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Penny Gilmore and I am honored to serve on retainer for Gerome Johnson as his legal adviser. As part of my tasks this month I was instructed to wait here on this day for Melody Moore, who would arrive with a train of vehicles, and allow her access to this complex of buildings. Mr. Johnson even sent a picture.”
After Melody shook Gilmore’s offered manicured hand, the lawyer turned the clipboard in an about face to flash a wallet sized photo that had been cropped from a group picture. I could see a piece of Maggie’s red hair intruding on the edge.
Cars were starting to honk as the long string of vehicles blocked one whole lane of traffic. Mrs. Gilmore looked out at the street anxiously, as if her sensibilities were offended, and offered the clipboard to Melody again. “Could you please sign here?”
While Melody complied, leaning the clipboard on the door frame while trying to keep the breeze from flipping the pages, Maggie stirred out of her grief induced fog to ask, “What’s going on?”
James turned his head to murmur, “Gerome had a lawyer on retainer. She’s having Melody sign some papers and then I guess she’ll show us our new digs.”
My aunt straightened in her seat, adjusting Reb on her shoulder before leaning forward to get a better look out the windshield at the closed gate. Gilmore rattled off four digits to Melody for the keypad that made Maggie’s brown eyes instantly glisten and Silver made an internal guess they might be significant dates. After the correct stiff metal buttons were punched into the standing keypad the heavy glossy black ornate gate began to retract, revealing a clearer view of the lush tree lined drive.
Penny Gilmore marched with short militant steps in front of the van to the right and waved Melody through to that side where a large lot opened up that looked to be for visitors. Only one car was parked in it and the gleaming red paint job of the Infinity sedan was marred by a large white splash of bird dropping from the tree overhanging its hood.
The polished lawyer’s stride faltered at the sight of the offensive intrusion of nature, and then she turned to act as a pseudo traffic cop, directing all of the incoming vehicles with the practiced ease of the most battle hardened NYPD veteran. Not a bead of sweat dared break out across her forehead in the heat of the afternoon and her highlighted hair helmet stayed styled.
Melody parked in a handicap space in front of a low brown brick building with a wood shingled roof and burgundy trim. Someone had scraped off the lettering on the glass of the front doors but their outline was still visible, giving a clue that it had been the property manager’s headquarters for the former housing community. Maybe it could be the guards’ offices now?
As soon as Melody had the van in park, James reached over to slide open the side door and leap out onto the perfectly black, freshly tarred surface. The white lines separating each space were so crisp it was obvious the lot had been recently resurfaced. Silver and I could still smell the cloying, nose-clogging scent of the pitch.
Once it became clear the rest of the cars in our convoy could find their way by following the leader, Gilmore click clacked over to our disembarking group with purpose. Once she gained the sidewalk she paused to straighten her pencil thin herringbone skirt, then walked over to stand on the paved path to the front doors, clapping her hands for our attention before saying, “I was instructed to request the select company of Cassandra Rainbow, Silver Rainbow, Dr. Magdalena Q. Johnson, Kara Lee and James Lee. Would those parties please step forward and follow me?”
There was a small kerfuffle as Reb protested being separated from Maggie but Melody stepped in with a calm sure hand to end the crying with an alternate shoulder to hug and softly murmured assurances. Ray watched everything from David’s arms. We worried about that boy’s seriousness.
From a suit jacket pocket the lawyer produced a smal
l set of keys and handed them over to James after checking her clipboard and marking a box. “Mr. Lee, I was informed you would be in charge of the security for this facility. Here are the master keys. Most homes will have an electronic keypad or card scanner for entry but just in case the power goes down these keys are for you to manage.”
James accepted the key ring with its brassy payload in his palm as his brows rose almost into his dark dirty hairline. His green eyes strayed to Maggie’s in question.
My aunt exhaled, lower lip pooched out like a pout, and said, “Don’t ask me James…at this point you know more than I do.”
Next the lawyer addressed us, after she frowned as she checked her list twice. “We seem to be missing a person? Mr. Johnson may have made an error on this request. I only see one picture for both Silver and Cassandra Rainbow? Are you identical twins? Should I wait?”
Silver laughed. “No sense waiting.”
Gilmore frowned in confusion as she took in our torn midriff-baring t-shirt and black leather duster. “I really must insist that all addressed be present.”
I sighed, exasperated at the waste of time. “Penny is it?” When she nodded, head cocked curiously, I continued. “If you can suspend your disbelief for a second I’ll clue you in on our unique situation. My name is Cass and my sister’s name is Silver—we occupy the same body in a rare form of chimerism. We are both present even if you think we aren’t.”
Her pruned brows rose higher and higher as we spoke and then something clicked inside, in an ‘aha’ moment, and whatever she remembered made her continue smoothly as if there had been no question of who was and wasn’t present. From under the papers on her clipboard Gilmore extracted a thin white envelope that looked empty. “Ma’am’s, if you will please accept this and only open it in private?”
Silver held out a hand truculently and stashed the flimsy rectangle of paper in one of our inner coat pockets. I smiled weakly in apology for my sister’s bad grace.
Next in the lineup was Kara who also received a plain thin envelope with instructions to only open it in private. She had no pockets in her dress and her clothes were still damp so she ended up holding the secret missive awkwardly at her side, unsure of what to do with it.
Last, came Maggie. Apparently the lawyer was out of envelopes and keys. Gilmore cleared her throat and waved a hand for us to follow her as she click clacked in her sling back heels on the concrete walkway around the building.
The trees—spaced out here and there—were impressively large, creating the illusion of an enchanted forest and throwing cool shadows over the light-starved straggly grass. Pine cones rested against the edges of the sidewalk, just waiting to be picked up and thrown by passing children. What met our eyes when we rounded the far side of the brown brick building took all of our breath away.
In a clearing, set peacefully inside a border of pines, was an exact replica of the compound infirmary. The white metal roof shone like a beacon, advertising solace and succor.
Gilmore began to prattle on about the space having been occupied prior by an Olympic sized swimming pool and how much trouble and waste it had been to fill it in for this structure to be built.
We all ignored her.
Maggie walked in a dream-like state into the picturesque clearing as if she were afraid the infirmary was a mirage then stopped and covered her face with both hands. Silver thought she might be crying and we were just about to take a step toward our aunt when she spun to scream at Gilmore.
“How long?”
The startled lawyer stopped mid chatter. “Excuse me, Dr. Johnson?”
Maggie advanced on the slim tour guide to our new life, looking like a sweaty, miserable, troll doll from hell. “How long have you been planning this with my recently deceased husband?”
Slab-faced with shock, the taller, thinner woman gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her narrow ribcage before saying in a girlishly frail voice, “Mr. Johnson is dead?”
The human moment only lasted a second and then, faculties gathered back into a semblance of professionalism, Penny Gilmore, Esq. pulled her shirt front down by its row of uniform pearly buttons and stated baldly, “Ten years. I have been in Mr. Johnson’s employ for ten years. He paid my way through law school and the only contact I had with him was through mail and the occasional text after our initial meeting eighteen years ago.” After a moment of stunned silence all around, Gilmore added stiffly, “I’m sorry to hear of his passing. He was a generous, kind man.”
Maggie rounded on the gray suited lawyer with less heat but quiet angry conviction. “He was a secretive man, too.”
My aunt pointed a finger at our face and we flinched, half expecting her emotions to zip out from the extended digit in a bolt of electricity as she gave her ultimatum.
“You better tell me everything you know about what Gerome meant before he died. I’m not having any more words and deeds hidden in the guise of protection. Do you hear me, girls?”
There would be no arguing with Maggie, so we nodded in agreement and watched her wander away toward the doors of her final gift from her husband.
Chapter Twenty: New Beginnings
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of organization and shuffling bodies like pieces in a chess game. Gerome had actually replaced the house numbers with surnames and whole families wandered the tree-shaded, aged sidewalks to discover their new homes with a sense of wonder.
Mez and Kal drifted through the crowd, watching children skip and play in the carless streets with small smiles on their faces. When the tall duo drew even with us, they glanced up at the three story monstrosity looming at the end of a curved concrete drive. The style was vaguely Victorian but mostly just pretentious and ugly. On the mailbox multiple surnames abounded.
In black stick on letters: Harris, Johnson, Lee, Moore and Rainbow.
Mez pouted. “My name is missing.”
Silver played with our ponytail. “Don’t be a baby, Mez. Anyway, when we get married you can take my last name…problem solved.”
Kal tried not to laugh with a hand discreetly over his mouth. He hit his nephew’s arm. “I have discovered we have our own house, Nefa.”
Arm extended, our former guardian pointed to a smaller two story home just to the left of our assigned sprawling impersonal abode. The writing on the side of their mailbox was in cursive and hand painted, the surname of Rainbow on top of Gebregdan.
Silver whistled. “Presumptuous and pretty all at once.”
I stepped forward, leaving our alien companions behind without a word. Most people had found key cards underneath their welcome mats, so when we climbed the three flagstone steps to the ornate crimson front door we lifted the black bristled rectangle to reveal a plastic coated envelope with a keycard for every proposed resident.
The smooth keycard we withdrew fit just as it should in the slot, causing the little light to flash green as we turned down the door handle. A spacious entryway stretched out with coat hooks and long decorative dark wood tables under mirrors on each side. Multiple trays sat with cards labeling each spot for a specific household member to lay their keys or other belongings for easy access upon exit and entry.
It felt like a fancy hotel not a home. This was a far cry from the simple accommodations at the compound. These digs screamed luxury and money well invested. How long had it taken Gerome to pull all of this off? If Cora had suspected any of his activities this all could have gone badly but now it was timely and needed. Where would all of us be without our uncle’s careful planning and foresight?
Silver quietly observed as I laid the envelope of keycards on one of the side tables and marched us forward on the glossy hardwood floor toward a massive carpeted spiral staircase leading to a landing with white painted, narrowly spaced guard rails that stopped just over our waistline. We could see Maggie having a cow about this with the twins.
Looking down there was a kitchen equipped to cook meals for an army and the fanciest most complicated appliances imaginable
. A dining table that looked to seat twenty with a dangling crystal chandelier sat off to the right in front of long windows with white plantation shutters in the closed position, barely letting in a few rays of the afternoon sun.
Silver took in a breath to say, “Just who did Gerome think we would be entertaining?”
Her deeper voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling and the house felt more hollow and lifeless than it had before.
I answered, “We’ll see won’t we.”
Something made me turn us right on the lush pale carpet that continued from the stairs along the floor into a hall with open doors on both sides. Pale mint green graced the bare walls and the baseboards were a brilliant bleached white only it didn’t make the house feel fresh, it made it feel as if it was trying to be something it could never be.
The first door to our right would lead us back toward the street-facing side of the house so we ventured in to gaze out the window at Mez and Kal patiently waiting at the end of the drive. Silver pulled back one of the sheers and Mez caught the movement.
I felt a tug as he pulled our chain in the Web and the pressure in our head decreased as Silver answered his call—seconds later, ozone scented the air at our back and I felt my twin return with a pop.
Quiet stretched until the buzzing in our ears and the settling sounds of the house made the silence not true and still any longer. Unless you were deaf, I didn’t think life could ever be truly rid of the noise of its passing.
Mez asked in his gravely, rumbling way, “What is next?”
Thoughtfully, Silver and I turned in concert. With no division we allowed the double timbre of our voice to travel up the column of our throat without completely deciding what we would say until it tripped from our lips.
“Time is spent never bought.
Minutes count when seconds blur.
VECTOR (The Weaver Series Book 3) Page 31
