The package was moving to Chicago on schedule, but the young mutants were moving faster than anticipated. In order to insure that the package could be put into working order and arrive first, a delaying tactic was necessary. While an attempt on the Washington Monument would not help him, there were other, more suitable monuments that would better serve.
He removed a plastic laminated map from his top desk drawer and spread it over his keyboard. His finger traced Interstate 90 east from Seattle, The young mutants had been following it, with detours for major tourist destinations along the way. His finger stopped over South Dakota.
The Expatriate consulted an encrypted file on his computer, then dialed an outgoing number that routed the call through a series of numbers, and finally through a switchboard belonging to the network’s corporate parent. Finally he dialed an outside number. It rang for nearly five minutes before the line was picked up, but no voice answered the call. The Expatriate spoke a codeword which, after a brief hesitation, was answered with a countersign.
“This is the Expatriate. Let me speak to the field marshal.” Another pause, then a voice, deep and scratchy, came on the line. “Why are you calling here? This number was for an emergency only.”
“Your survival seemed emergency enough. I’ve considered your order. It may be possible, but only if the objective and timetable are changed to my specifications.”
“Who do you think you are, dictating terms to us?”
“I may not be the only supplier who could deliver what you ask for, but I am the only supplier who will. Besides, I think, once you consider my proposed objective, you’ll see that it is even better than what you had in mind.”
“What objective?”
“Consider it, then contact me within the hour for the details. The objective is Mt. Rushmore.” He hung up the phone, and sat back to wait.
The Xabago rounded a tight curve among scrubby evergreens, and Jubilee grabbed on to a kitchen counter to keep from falling over. “Jono, slow down. You’re going to make me lose my breakfast before I even get to eat any.”
Jono wasn’t impressed. “Shag off.”
“I’m serious, Jono. I’m gonna blow serious chunks here.” Monet looked up from behind another book, something in Latin this time, made a sour face, and then sank safely back behind its heavy cover.
Everett looked down from the top-gun seat with concern. “You okay, Jubilee?”
Angelo smirked. “She’s just jerking Jono’s chain. She should have eaten breakfast with the rest of us this morning, and now she wants us all to take a break while she gets her eats.”
Jubilee opened a kitchen cabinet and looked through the assortment of cereal boxes there. “I just can’t handle flapjacks and sausage, that whole logger scene, first thing in the morning. The only sausage I want to look at is on cold pizza.” Paige was sitting on the floor fiddling with the Danger-boy. “Pizza? Ugh. Where I come from, we eat real breakfast every morning, fried eggs, sausage, bacon, home fries, grits, hot biscuits with gravy. That’s breakfast.”
“That’s cholesterol city, that’s what it is,” replied Jubilee. “It’s no wonder your whole family is full of mutants. Where I come from, when you call the pizza joint, you’re ordering tonight’s dinner, and tomorrow’s breakfast.” Jubilee pulled down a cereal box, which promptly fell on its side as they hit a pothole. “Jono!”
He was unrelenting, hunched over the wheel watching both road and sky. “Bad weather moving in, gel. Got to make good time if we want to see Devils Tower before it hits.”
She poured some cornflakes into a large coffee mug. “Well, at least ease up while I pour the milk, ’kay?”
“Hey,” shouted Everett, “I can see it!”
“Where?” Jubilee quickly set the mug in the sink and climbed up so she could see out through the bubble. Everett pointed out through the trees. It was gray and hazy, and at first all she could make out was mist. Then she saw it, lurking in the fog: impossibly large, straight sided, flat topped, looking
more like some misplaced shrine than a mountain. Jubilee felt a little butterfly in her stomach, and had to admit that she was impressed, despite herself. “That is so cool.”
Paige climbed up in front so she could see too. Angelo leaned over from his spot on the couch to get a glimpse. “Looks like a big bar stool.”
Paige frowned back at him. “Shut up, Angelo.”
He shrugged. “It’s just a big rock.”
“I read,” said Everett, “that this is a sacred place to the Indians, that only when the white settlers saw it was it associated with evil.”
Angelo squinted out though the windshield skeptically. “Okay, an evil big rock.”
“Looks more sacred to me,” said Jubilee.
Angelo stretched out on the couch. “Sacred rock. Evil rock. The bottom line is, rock.”
Monet just looked at her book, ignoring everything.
“M,” said Jubilee, “aren’t you even going to look?” “No.”
“You are so cold, girl. Isn’t there anything you want to see on this trip?”
“The prairie dog town.”
“Get real.”
She looked over her book, an expression of annoyance on her face. “Is there anything wrong with that? Angelo is right. A rock is a rock. A tree is a tree. All I’ve seen so far is that America has a lot of both of them, and I already knew that. I don’t see any reason to get misty eyed over every new one that comes around the bend.”
“Hey!” Everett was looking back over his shoulder. “We’ve got company.”
Jubilee looked back and saw a familiar pink dinosaur of a car following them. “Chin up, Paige, the musketeers are back.”
Paige looked up in response. Jubilee could see Jono watching her in the rearview. When are those two gonna drop the soap opera?
Jubilee turned back to the Tower, now becoming clearer through the mist, its sides raked with vertical striations, as though the thing had been clawed out of solid rock by the talons of some great monster. They passed into a flat, open area, and Jubilee realized that it was the prairie dog town they’d read about in the brochures. She decided not to mention that Jono was driving right on through it in his haste to get to the Tower. They drove past the park headquarters and wound their way around the Tower to the visitors’ center.
Jono parked the RV and Jubilee saw the Cadillac park nearby. Everyone piled out, except Monet, who continued to read her book. Jubilee paused in the door. The musketeers had joined up, and the bunch of them were engaged in an impromptu footrace to reach the visitors’ center. Jubilee looked back at Monet. She was a big pain most of the time, but even Angelo was having some fun on this trip, even Paige and Jono, who spent half the time sulking about each other. The only way Monet could be avoiding it, Jubilee figured, was by sheer force of will.
She climbed back into the camper, and stood in front of Monet’s recliner, hands on hips, “Come on. I know it’s only a rock, but you could come and look with us anyway."
She didn’t glance up from her book. “We drove past the prairie dogs.”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed.”
“I notice everything.”
Except when you’re zoned out, thought Jubilee, but she kept quiet about it. She reached down and grabbed Monet by the wrist. “Come on. Be one of the gang.”
Monet put down the book and gave her a long-suffering expression. “You aren’t going to leave me alone unless I come, are you?”
“Nope.”
She signed loudly. “All right, if that’s the way it’s going to be.” She stood and let Jubilee lead her out of the RV. As they crossed the parking lot, Monet plodded along behind her, head down, not looking at the Tower.
They reached an observation area where the rest of them were clustered. Paige was peering at the tower through a coinoperated telescope while Recall looked on admiringly. Jono was off to the side, talking with Angelo and studiously ignoring the whole scene. Angelo was using the remaining image inducer, now
reprogrammed to project his usual unmutated Hispanic persona.
Monet was looking restlessly back toward the parking area.
“M, we’re here. Least you can do is look at the big rock. Don’t be totally pigheaded about this. ’Lax up.”
Monet reluctantly looked up at the tower, then blinked. She looked, eyes growing wider. Her mouth opened silently and her stare grew in intensity.
“Oh, no,” said Jubilee, “she’s doing it again.”
The others looked their way and saw what was going on. Paige walked over from the telescope, a curious Recall following her. “She does this,” explained Paige, “just goes into a trance for a while.” Paige noticed a couple of older women staring at Monet. “Usually it isn’t so conspicuous.’’
Jubilee, aware that they were attracting attention, looked down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. What she saw didn’t make her happy at all. Monet’s feet were floating a good two inches off the ground. She leaned closer to Paige and whispered urgently. “Paige, she’s starting to lift off. We’ve got to stop her.”
Paige glanced down and saw what she was talking about, then looked to see who else was watching.
Jubilee heard the two women talking to each other, and caught the word mutant.
“Too late,” said Paige. “Let’s just try to keep her out of any more trouble.” But as they turned around, they saw they were too late for that as well. Monet was gone. They looked up to see her drifting fifteen feet above their heads, arms outstretched, wrists relaxed. As they watched, she slowly picked up speed and altitude, heading toward the Tower.
“Oh, crud,” said Paige. “I wish Sean were here. It’s not like any of us can fly after her.”
“Not true,’’ said Paige. She waved Everett over. “Synch up with Monet and fly after her.”
Everett looked nervously at the crowd of people around. “I don’t know if I should. Bad enough one of us has blown cover without me doing it too. Besides,” he added, “I’ve synched with M a couple times before, but it’s always weird, like eating too much ice cream too fast. Just doesn’t feel right.”
Paige looked up. Monet was only a dot against the sky now, but she was turning, and seemed to be flying around the Tower. “Maybe he’s right. Let’s just hope she snaps out of it and comes back. Meanwhile, let’s split up and try not to look like we’re together. Jubilee, if you see anyone snapping pictures, try to quietly fog their film with a few sparks, if you can. Everybody else, mingle.” She grabbed Recall by the arm and took off into the gathering crowd.
Chill and Dog Pound strolled off toward the bathrooms. Synch pretended to be intently studying an informational plaque. Jubilee followed orders and wandered through the crowd, “accidentally” bumping into people taking pictures, brushing their cameras with her fingertips and projecting a few tiny sparks each time. With luck, they’d get home to find nothing but her fireworks in their vacation shots.
Having made the rounds, she returned to the railing, and looked anxiously out at the Tower. She stared for several minutes, before spotting a moving dot around on the far side. It grew closer until it was recognizably a flying person, then looped back around the Tower and flew away again. Behind the Tower, a wall of black clouds was approaching, and as Jubilee watched, it was illuminated by a flash of lightning. “Oh, great,” she said to nobody in particular, “the mother ship is here.” Jubilee shoved her hands in her pockets and chewed her lower lip, feeling responsible for Monet’s condition. What would happen if the thunderstorm hit before she came back?
She spotted Paige sitting on a bench talking to a thirty-something woman wearing jeans and a red tank top. The woman seemed to be crying. Recall stood a few feet away, looking very uncomfortable. The hell with mingling. She went over to see what was going on. Paige looked up as she approached. “Her little boy wandered off while they were hiking,” she explained. “The rangers are looking for him now, but the storm is coming, and they can’t use airplanes.”
“He was right there,” said the woman to herself as much as anyone. ‘ ‘We just turned our back for a second, and he was gone. We looked and looked, but he was gone.”
Jubilee stared out at the Tower, not seeing Monet. “If only M were here, she could search for him.” Lightning flashed, and almost at once, thunder rumbled around them.
“You were talking about me?”
Monet floated down out of the sky and alighted next to Jubilee.
“Am I glad you’re back,” Jubilee exclaimed.
Monet looked grave. She glanced back at the Tower. “I’m sorry. It’s like it was pulling at my soul.”
Jubilee grabbed her by the arms. “Don’t go getting cosmic on us. There's a kid lost out there somewhere. You’ve got to find him.”
She looked at the approaching storm. “There isn’t much time.”
Paige seemed to have an inspiration. “Recall, can you tune in on the lost boy?”
He looked uncertain. “I’ve been listening to her talk. Like I said, I have to know what I’m looking for.” He turned to the woman. “Do you have a picture you could show me?” The woman had been staring, openmouthed, at Monet since her unexpected return. “You’re mutants, aren’t you?”
Paige looked her straight in the eye. “Yes, ma'am. Don’t be afraid. We can help, if you’ll let us.”
She seemed to make a decision, and started digging in her purse, fishing out what looked like a small school snapshot of a round-faced boy in a red sweater. She handed it to Recall. Monet edged closer. “Can you tell me where he is?”
He studied the picture, rubbing it between thumb and forefinger. “No, but I can take you to him.”
She stepped behind him, put her hands under his arms. “Let’s go, then.”
Angelo and Jono walked up. Jono looked skeptically at the tearful mother. He glanced at Monet and Recall. “Just don’t expect any bleeding gratitude if you find the kid,” he projected his words tightly, so the woman wouldn’t pick them up. “It doesn’t work that way.”
M and Recall rocketed into the air, arcing over backward before they headed toward the Tower. Angelo looked at the mass of people around them. “So much for our cover,” he muttered.
Trying to look inconspicuous, Jubilee lowered her sunglasses despite the gloom, and pulled the collar of her raincoat up around her face. What followed was a long and uncomfortable twenty minutes, as the storm continued to bear down, and they found themselves surrounded by a skeptical and possibly hostile mob of humans.
Then they heard someone in the crowd shout, and a murmur ran through the group. People were pointing at the sky, and
Jubilee finally pushed past enough people to see M returning, something large under each arm.
M swooped down, and the crowd parted to give her space to land. She was holding Recall around the waist under one arm, and under the other, the missing boy. The mother ran past Jubilee and swept him away from M even before her feet touched the ground. The woman dropped to her knees, hugging the boy, crying.
M put down Recall, who brushed himself off and adjusted his rumpled clothes. “That was not dignified,” he said.
The woman looked up at Recall, as though seeing him for the first time. She jumped to her feet and gave him a bear hug. Recall stood stiffly, looking stunned. Next the woman turned her attention to M, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek.
The crowd buzzed. Two rangers and a muscular man dressed in khakis, whom Jubilee presumed to be the boy’s father, pushed through the mob of onlookers. The man stopped in front of Recall, looked him up and down, then shook his hand heartily.
Then somebody clapped. Some others joined in. Suddenly the onlookers were applauding. The boy, who seemed more excited at the attention than scared, held his fists over his head and jumped up and down. Jubilee caught a glimpse of Jono, who looked stunned. She slid up next to him and leaned close. “What have we learned here, Mr. Cynical?”
He turned, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘ ‘That if you have to be a mutant, you shoul
dn’t be an ugly one.” He turned, pushing his way unnoticed through the crowd, headed back toward the RV.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘ ‘Details continue to surface concerning the surprising life of Buford T. Hollis, the heroic costumed adventurer now known to Americans as Razorback. The public’s curiosity about its latest hero seems insatiable, and truly the story seems worthy of their interest. Hollis has been a star athlete, trucker, adventurer, humanitarian, friend to controversial costumed superhuman Spider-Man, cult buster, and even, according to our exclusive sources, astronaut on a top-secret NASA space mission. Tune in tonight at ten eastern for a special report, Razorback: the Man, the Hero, the Mystery.
“In other news, a possible mutant mystery in Wyoming. Conflicting eyewitness reports from Devils Tower National Monument that the disappearance of a six-year-old boy from a park hiking trail may have somehow involved a mysterious ‘flying girl.’ Despite many eyewitnesses, it isn’t clear if the boy was actually abducted or rescued by the mystery girl, or indeed if she exists at all.
“It is certain that the boy was separated from his parents for several hours and later returned unharmed. The child’s parents, vacationers from Eugene, Oregon, refused to comment, and park officials would confirm only that the boy had been reported missing and later recovered. An unnamed source on the House Mutant Affairs Committee claims that telepathic mind control could be the source of the confusion.”
—excerpt from WNN news report
A covered picnic shelter at a roadside park formed a rustic debriefing room for the students of Xavier’s School. A large concrete-and-wood picnic table occupied the center of the shelter, its log roof supported by columns made of unshaped native stone. Paige stood nervously at the head of the table where the rest of the students sat, watching, as she explained what had happened at Devils Tower. Sean paced, listening intently. Emma stood off to the side, arms crossed, an impassive and unreadable figure.
She finished by recounting how they’d asked the assembled crowd not to tell anyone what had happened, had retreated to their vehicles, and made a hasty departure to spend the night at an undeveloped campground off the main roads.
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