“You were smart to bring those flares along, dude,” Pablo said. “Once those dogs came back alone, we began looking with infrareds.”
“The flares were Ingrid’s idea,” Max replied.
“Are the dogs OK?” Alex asked.
Pablo grinned. “Totally. They’re built for this.”
Max stood and removed his goggles. The storm had let up as suddenly as it had started. A team of lab workers had been mobilized. Two of them were lifting Ingrid onto a stretcher while two more waited to carry her inside. Her body was limp, her face the color of ash. The sun had completely set, and everything around the building was pitch-black. “Is she . . . ?” Bitsy asked.
“She’s breathing,” said one of the stretcher bearers, a red-haired woman at least six feet tall. “But we’ll need to fix that leg.”
As the bearers rushed into the building, Max, Alex, and Bitsy followed. Max passed Nigel, standing against the side of the other snowmobile. “Are you coming?” Max asked.
The old man seemed lost in thought. “You know, lad, my mum got me a Lhasa apso when I was five, and it ran away. A year later Dad brought home a cocker spaniel, but it bit my arm and they had to give it away. Basset hound, pug, poodle . . . no matter what I did, things never worked out between dogs and me. I thought maybe this time . . .”
Max put his arm around Nigel’s shoulder. That was what people did to make other people feel better.
“Well,” he said, “we all suck at something.”
Nigel smiled. “Thanks for the thought. I may put it on my tombstone. So. All’s well that ends well, I suppose. You got all your ingredients, lad!”
Max reached around for his backpack, but it wasn’t there. He whirled around to the snowmobile, where Pablo was checking the engine. “My pack!” Max blurted.
“Pardon?” Pablo asked.
“I had a backpack!”
Pablo thought for a moment. “Right. Yeah. Blue one. It fell off your shoulder when we put Dr. Blomdahl on the sled. Not to worry, I put it in that sack. Sorry.”
He gestured toward a big canvas sack on the floor of the snowmobile, jammed against the curved front wall where he’d stood while driving.
Max yanked it open and pulled out his backpack. It was partly unzipped. He reached in and pulled out the big canister. The top had fallen open.
Three of the vials were inside—the golf-ball cactus, the glowing coil, and the water from the refugio. Max peered into the pack and spotted the black water from the Nepali turmeric.
Three of them. Nothing else.
“The bones . . .” he said.
He ripped the bag open. He felt around. The bottom was cold to the touch. Something had spilled and frozen. He felt a sharp pinch on his finger and pulled it back. It was bleeding from a tiny shard of glass.
“The bones!” he repeated. “It’s missing the hippo bones!”
“Well, it was unzipped,” Pablo said, “and you had quite a rough ride there—”
“We have to go back and find it!”
Pablo gestured out toward the expanse of black. “There’s a lot of territory out there, my friend. And it’s all been covered with blowing snow since we’ve been through it. Plus, the sun won’t be up for a very long time. You have a better chance of finding a hair in all the haystacks of the world.”
“No! No-o-o-o-o!”
Alex was running out of the building now. “Max?”
“I dropped the hippo bone,” he said.
“You’re kidding.”
“Is this my kidding face?” Max said.
Nigel tapped his shoulder. “Max, old boy—”
“We only had one of them!” Max snapped, spinning to face him. “If you hadn’t taken the others, we might still have one or two.”
“Yes,” Nigel said, “but—”
“OK. OK. Calm down,” Alex said. “I got through to Captain Perez. He will pick us up first thing in the morning. And Brandon will be waiting for us at the airport in Tierra del Fuego. We’ll just have to make a detour. We’ll go back to Greece and get more bones—”
“We can’t go back, remember?” Max said. “They know who we are! We’re wanted—”
“We’ll think of a Plan B,” Alex said. “There’s always a Plan B.”
“May I suggest one?” Nigel said.
Max and Alex both turned to him.
“You’re right, Max,” the old man said. “I did take them. As you know, in my delusion of grandeur, I saved one of them for myself. And in Nepal I gave that to you. But the others still exist. They were sent to London in very secure packaging. To Gloria Bentham.”
Nigel’s words floated in the biting-cold air. Max’s heart did an agonized dance, one minute happy for the extra chance and the other dreading what it might take to get it. “We have to go to London,” he said.
“Unless . . .” Nigel said, tapping his chin. “We can get her to the United States.”
“How?” Max asked.
“She still thinks I work for her,” Nigel said. “And she believes I have the ingredients. I shall tell her you stole them, and I was forced to chase you back to the States. She’s aware that Interpol was following me. This scares her. She just may be willing to come to where I am.”
“Do you think that will work?” Max asked.
“Did we ever think any of this crazy scheme would work?” Nigel said.
“I’ll get Bitsy,” Alex replied. “Let’s get out of here.”
Max felt his phone vibrate and pulled his own phone from his pocket. He noticed about a dozen unopened text messages from his dad. But he looked at the last one first. It was only three words:
Come home. Now.
43
MAX didn’t recognize the gray Toyota Corolla parked in front of his house. As his limo rolled closer, a priest emerged from the smaller car. He was a kind-looking man with wire-rim glasses and dark-brown skin. The sight of him made Max panic.
When someone was dying, a priest came. Max knew that from movies. It was a sign. He squeezed the door handle and jumped out while the car was till in motion. He could hear Alex shouting his name as he fell onto the grassy patch by the curb. The priest glanced toward him, startled, and called out a greeting. But Max ignored him and bolted straight for the front door.
His dad was in the living room, talking to a woman over a stack of papers piled on the coffee table. “Max!” he cried out, bolting up from the couch and knocking his cup of coffee onto the floor. “Welcome home! We missed you!”
Max knew he was supposed to say “thank you” and “I missed you too,” but the smell of fish blotted out every thought. “Where is she?”
Dad nodded. “I’ll take you. Come. Smriti’s here too.”
Leaving a very bewildered-looking visitor in the living room, Max walked with his father through the house to the sunroom out behind the kitchen. The Tilts had added the room to the house as a study, but now there was a bed in it. Mom was fast asleep under a down comforter. Her face was paler and thinner, and the gray roots of her hair were growing out.
Smriti and her dad were sitting on folding chairs next to her, and Smriti nearly flew across the room to Max. “I know you hate hugs and I’m sorry, but I was so worried about you, and I’m glad you’re home!” she said, throwing her arms around him.
“I’m glad to be home too,” Max said.
He shook loose from the hug and sat at the edge of the bed. “Hi, Mom, it’s Max.”
Her eyes fluttered open. She reached up to touch his face. He didn’t flinch. Under the circumstances, it felt kind of nice. “I missed you so much,” she said. “I lost the Hulk, you know. Your protection charm. He was in my purse when I had a little fainting spell in the card store. Stuff scattered, and he must have slid away.”
“I’ll make a new one for you, Mom,” Max said. “How are you feeling?”
“A little tired, that’s all,” she said with a rueful smile. “It all happened so fast, didn’t it? Did you find what you needed?”
Max
struggled for the right words. Alex was slipping silently into the room, and now he felt five pairs of eyes drilling into him from all sides. “We—we tried,” he said. “We got all five. Everybody was awesome. We visited a cave and we fought wolf people. But after that we had a yak race and flew a balloon and visited a volcanic vent in the ice. And oh yeah, the hang glider works. Anyway, I’ll tell you more facts about the trip later. But I have work to do, Mom. I—I lost one of the ingredients.”
“Oh, wow . . .” Smriti said. “Hey, it’s OK, Max. You tried, that’s what counts.”
Max shook his head. “Trying isn’t enough. Mom, you have to hang in there. OK? Will you? I have to take another trip. We’re going to save you.”
His dad’s voice called from the doorway. “Max?”
Dad was standing there with Nigel and Bitsy, and behind them was the priest.
Max stiffened. “Get him out of here.”
“Dear boy, we’ve had our differences,” Nigel said, “but—”
“Not you,” Max said. “The other guy!”
“It’s just a pastoral visit, Max,” Dad replied. “The church has a new pastor, and he’s getting to know—”
“Get him out of here!”
As the priest stood, looking baffled, Nigel pointed to the screen of his phone. “May I speak to you, lad?” he asked softly. “It’s important.”
Max nodded and kissed his mom’s forehead. “Sorry. I just saw his collar and—”
“I know, Max, it’s fine,” she said. “And to answer your question—yes. I will hang in. I promise. Now go see what your friend wants.”
“Love you, Mom. Be right back.” Max got up and followed Nigel into the kitchen, with Alex close behind.
Nigel was stuffing chips into his mouth, but a lot of them had spilled and he was crunching them underfoot. He seemed agitated. “I heard from Gloria,” he said. “She is here. In Savile. Our plan worked. But I wish I’d thought it out more. She would like to meet with me, alone. At an old, abandoned train station. I am to bring the remaining ingredients, and the Isis hippuris.”
“Does she have the hippo bones?” Alex asked.
“Yes,” Nigel said. “Gloria is diabetic. And greedy. She is eager to combine the ingredients and test the serum by using it herself.”
“But you can’t just bring everything with you,” Max said. “She’ll take it all!”
“Exactly!” Nigel said.
Max began pacing. He thought about the four ingredients in his pack. The Isis hippuris in his room. They were safe for now. And he didn’t want to let go of them.
His mom let out a groan, and he looked inside. The priest was kneeling by her bed, which made him want to scream. Just beyond him, Max could see the windowsill where Hulk used to be.
His homemade 3D-printer Hulk.
An idea was barging its way into Max’s head.
“Tell her you’ll do it,” he blurted. “You’ll bring everything. Alone.”
Nigel nearly spat out his chips. “Pardon me. I just imagined you asked me to tell her I’d do it.”
“Text Gloria. Tell her you will meet her with everything she needs. But you’ll only do it if she brings the hippo bones. And shows them to you.”
As Max headed for the stairs, Nigel said, “What if she says no?”
“Then the deal is off,” Max said with a shrug.
And he ran up to his room.
44
MAX tightened his harness and crouched low. A pair of binoculars, hanging from his neck, clanked softly against the roof of the old grain elevator. The ladder had been wobbly, but the structure itself felt sturdy beneath his feet. In the setting sun, the abandoned train station looked on the verge of collapse. Its tile roof sagged, weeds snaked up its graffitied walls, and the light from the only working streetlamp didn’t quite reach it. One of the station’s side windows was bricked over, and a dim light flickered in the other.
Gloria Bentham was inside, waiting.
The rusted gate in the cyclone fence had a sign that said Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted, but the lock had broken off years ago, and no one had bothered to replace it. As planned, Nigel walked through it at precisely 7:15.
Max waved. As planned, Nigel didn’t wave back.
Draw her out, Max thought, hoping Nigel would somehow pick up his mental message. Let me hear her voice.
Max saw a movement from within the station house, and a moment later Gloria Bentham emerged. She wore a plain black waist-length jacket and jeans, with a plain black canvas bag slung over her shoulder.
“Where is the boy?” she asked.
“With his mother,” Nigel replied. “She is very ill, and he would not leave her side.”
“Would that all children show such love to their mothers,” Gloria said. “It is good you won their trust, Nigel. I do have your payment. Are you certain you weren’t followed?”
“Of course not.” Nigel was sweating.
Don’t sweat, Max thought. You look so guilty.
“Let me see the bones,” Nigel said. “I worked very hard to get them, and I want to know you did not lose them.”
Reaching into her shoulder bag, Gloria took out a vial. Max lifted the binoculars and looked through. His pulse quickened. He could see at least one bony shape inside the liquid.
Gloria dangled the vial in Nigel’s face, and then put it back into her purse. “You did good work, my friend. How do feel about finally lifting the curse on your family? Righting the wrong of your vile ancestor?”
“Gaston was in great pain, Gloria,” Nigel said.
“Yes, enough pain to take every bit of the serum that Jules Verne concocted,” she said. “My ex-husband, Spencer, was not a good man, but he knew many very valuable secrets. He knew that Verne had produced a tiny amount of serum, Nigel. He knew that Jules was in contact with the best scientists of the day, to analyze the compound in order to mass produce it. But when they asked him to provide a sample, there was none left.”
Nigel nodded. “And now there will be.”
“Thanks to you, for keeping it out of the hands of those children, who were influenced by my daughter!”
The comment about Bitsy shook Max. It didn’t sound like the way a mom would talk about a daughter. Max was so intent on listening, he almost missed the slight movement at the side of the building. Another figure was moving closer, pressed against the wall. It was a man dressed in black clothes and a black mask, clutching something in his hand.
Max tensed. Nigel was reaching into his backpack now. “The children were the ones who found these. I know you don’t trust them, Gloria, but if you contacted them—”
“It’s not them, you fool!” Gloria said. “It’s Bitsy I don’t trust. Now give me everything. Now.”
The man in black inched along the wall, toward the front. Max could see he was holding a gun. A gun?
Max tensed again. He checked the harness, reaching back to make sure the wings were not tangled. He bent his knees. Up here on the grain elevator, he was maybe three stories off the ground, tops. To float with a glider, you needed good elevation. He didn’t know exactly how much, but at this point, not trying wasn’t an option. He closed his eyes and pictured the Kozhim River. Even though the distance had been way farther down, it had seemed less scary.
As Nigel held out the Isis hippuris, Max opened his eyes and jumped.
45
HE was moving fast. Too fast. He felt his wings snapping into place behind him. His body jerked back. It squeezed the air from his lungs and he gasped.
The man whirled around. But that was about all he had time to do before Max smashed into him. With a cry, they both fell to the ground. The gun flew out of the man’s hand and slid away.
Max rolled off. He tried to scramble to his feet. Behind him, the attacker was lifting him by the glider. Max could feel the metal bending. “You’re ruining it!” he yelled.
He planted his feet on the ground, bent his knees, and jumped backward. He must have hit the guy in the jaw because
he heard the smacking of teeth. They both flew back, hitting the wall of the old station house.
The guy grabbed Max by the front of his shirt and spun him around. He was wearing a black knit cap, his lip was bleeding, and his eyes were wide and angry. “You’re a kid,” he spat. “A little punk.”
He lifted Max off the ground. Max struggled against the man’s grip, but his fists were like stone. As Max rose, he could see Nigel sneaking up behind the attacker. In Nigel’s hands was the Isis hippuris.
“Nigel, you fool, don’t!” Gloria shouted.
The man turned. He let go of Max. As Max crashed to the ground, he saw Nigel bring the Isis hippuris down hard on the guy’s head with a shout: “Take that!”
The attacker had no time to react. He fell to the ground, limp.
Max jumped to his feet. Nigel was staring downward. But not at the unconscious man.
The Isis hippuris was now a scattered pile of dust on the ground.
Gloria’s bottom lip was quivering. “You . . . you . . . destroyed it. You imbecile.”
The attacker let out a muffled groan. Max spotted the gun lying on the ground about ten feet away. He ran over and scooped it up. It was heavier than he expected it to be, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do with it.
As he turned toward the others, Gloria sprang back, hands in the air. “You wouldn’t . . .”
You’re right, I wouldn’t! Max wanted to say, but he just held steady. He had to admit he liked seeing Gloria lose confidence.
“He doesn’t know how to use that properly,” Nigel said to Gloria. “Which makes him more dangerous than you know. Now back into the building.”
Gloria looked from Max to Nigel. “This is preposterous. Why are you doing this, Nigel? Everything is lost. This makes no sense.”
“Get in!” Nigel said.
As Max waved the gun uncertainly, Gloria lifted her hands and backed into the old station house. Nigel knelt over the unconscious gunman and dragged him in too. As Max yanked the station door shut, Nigel pulled a thick lock out of his pack. He slapped it through a hasp on the door and clamped it shut.
“You can’t do this to me!” The door was shaking now. Gloria was trying to get out. The mechanism was ancient and rusted, but it seemed to hold tight.
80 Days or Die Page 21
