Night Sky

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Milo!” I yelled. “Run!”

  “Hey! You!” A voice called out from around the corner. I whirled around, and there was Dana—very much alive, very much self-healed, thank God, and very pissed. Calvin hovered close behind her. “You really think you can mess with me and my friends?” she shouted.

  The guard froze. He looked as though he was being scolded by a ghost.

  After all, he’d beaten her senseless with a bat just a few moments ago.

  “News flash, motherfucker. I. Pwn. You.”

  And, without any further warning, Dana lifted her hands up and blasted the guard with such an amped-up dose of kick-ass that the man dropped his second gun and sailed up, up, up, way into the sky, his cries disappearing as quickly as his body. It was like watching a human-sized balloon fade into the clouds. Wherever he landed, there was no way he’d survive the fall.

  “Whoa,” Cal and I both said, our mouths hanging open.

  I closed mine and rushed to Milo’s side. “You’re bleeding!” I told him, crouching next to him in the grass.

  “I’m okay,” Milo reassured me, even though the cut above his eye was redefining the word profuse.

  “Um, yeah,” Dana said, slightly irritated. “I’m okay too…?”

  I pulled Milo to his feet and moved him over to Dana, who had already gotten yanked down onto Calvin’s lap. We both wrapped our arms around the two of them as I worked to not burst into tears right then and there.

  “Thank God,” I said. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Dana replied impatiently, her body awkward and rigid as she endured the group hug. “I did too. I don’t think I’ve ever healed that fast. It was almost as if…”

  She was looking at Calvin, but when she saw my questioning look, she shook her head. “That’s just a fairy tale, like Sleeping Beauty. Come on, Bubble Gum. We’ve got work to do.”

  I was curious—what fairy tale? But I didn’t press her, because she was right. This wasn’t over yet.

  —

  With the guards finally gone, we were able to stroll into the barn, no problem.

  Once inside, though, reality hit me like a ton of bricks.

  The place reeked of waste, urine, and sweat—and it wasn’t the result of manifest emotions that only I could detect. These girls were literally eating where they shat.

  Calvin gasped and stuck his face into the crook of his elbow. Dana grumbled something about a-holes under her breath. Milo clenched his jaw.

  And I smiled. Because Sasha was there. I could feel her.

  “Third bed, first row,” I hissed to Dana.

  Some of the little girls stayed asleep. Others shifted around, their chains clinking as they moved, frightened at the sight of us.

  I rushed over to the bed, and there she was.

  Sasha!

  She looked so tiny lying there. Her head was shaved, but it was Sasha, without a doubt!

  I felt Dana’s presence behind me. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Let me.” She blinked hard, and Sasha’s chains broke open.

  And I took her into my arms. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” I told her.

  Her eyes opened, two pools of dark brown. “Sky,” she whispered. “I knew you’d find me.” But then she looked over at Dana, and she smiled, reaching up to cup Dana’s face with her tiny hand.

  “Lacey?” she asked. “You look like Lacey.”

  The change that came over Dana was startling. Her eyes filled with tears, and as she gazed back at Sasha, I knew she was holding her breath. “Do you know her?” Dana asked. “Have you seen her? Lacey?”

  But in a flash, Sasha went from smiling to terrified, and she opened her mouth and started to scream.

  “Sleep,” Dana commanded, mind-controlling Sasha, so that the little girl’s eyelids fluttered closed, and she dipped down again into unconsciousness.

  Dana stood still, but only for a moment. Then, she turned, racing down the aisles of cots. Chains exploded as she used her telekinetic power to break the girls free.

  “Lacey!” she called out. “Lacey Zannino! Lacey! Are you here?”

  Little girls began to sit up in their beds, rubbing grubby hands across their drowsy, tear-streaked faces. I sat down on Sasha’s cot, wrapping my arms around the sleeping little girl.

  “Hey,” Milo whispered from behind me. He put his own arms around my shoulders, even as I scooped Sasha onto my lap. “We have to get moving. These girls need to get into the truck fast, before any of the guards come back. We don’t know their schedule. There might be another shift due to arrive.”

  I nodded, watching as Dana turned the room upside down searching frantically for her lost sister.

  Quickly, Milo and I worked on carrying the girls out to the truck. So many of them were terrified, and once one started screaming, they all joined in. So Dana used her powers to make them all, like Sasha, fall back into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  We all worked silently, steadily, quickly.

  Calvin volunteered to stay beside the vehicle, keeping watch while Milo and I transported the former prisoners. I made sure to place Sasha in Calvin’s arms before I headed back into the barn.

  As I stepped back inside, I spotted Dana, a grim expression on her face as she lifted two little sleeping girls in her arms and carried them both toward the Doggy Doo Good truck.

  “Did you find…?”

  Dana shook her head as she handed the girls to Milo, who set them gently into the back of the vehicle. “Lacey’s not here,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry…” I started.

  But Dana raised a dismissive hand in the air, her face contorted. I realized that she had begun to cry.

  “Dana, wait!” I called after her as she rushed back into the barn, unwilling to take even a few seconds of time to compose herself.

  “Let her be,” Cal said quietly, grabbing my hand before I had a chance to follow her.

  Milo put his arm around me.

  This sucks, I told him. I get my happy ending—

  I know. Milo’s voice calmed me. We need to get the rest of the girls, though, and get out of here.

  I nodded, and started back toward the barn with Milo, my arm wrapped around his waist.

  When we were on our way back out to the truck, it happened.

  Just like that, the sewage smell was back. I stumbled, and Dana—grimly dry eyed again—grabbed the little girl I was carrying out of my arms, giving me a disapproving look.

  I stood there, frozen, unable to move.

  And then…I looked up to see her.

  With gnarled, gray limbs and hollow holes for eyes, she stood against the backdrop of a swirling darkening sky, clouds churning, storm brewing. Her mouth curled up into a grotesque grin as ribbons of flowing, tattered cloth billowed ghost-like around her legs.

  If I hadn’t known any better, I would have pegged her for the devil in the flesh.

  She was clutching a little girl, holding her tightly against her chest.

  Calvin, Dana, and Milo were discussing logistics—Dana would ride in the back of the truck with the girls while Milo drove. I would sit in the backseat of Calvin’s car with Sasha.

  None of them seemed to see her, none of them noticed her, and I realized in that instant that I was having another vision.

  A truly horrible one, in smell-o-vision.

  Milo noticed that something wasn’t right, and he came over to me. “Sky? You okay?”

  He touched my arm, and his head snapped back, and I knew that he saw it too—everything I was seeing and hearing in my vision.

  The woman pointed directly at me, and said, “Skyyyylaaarrrrr!” Her voice was echoing and omnipresent, rattling branches and blowing through the air like a strong wind carrying the stench of evil. “I seeeeeeee you.”

  And then, like a subliminal messa
ge hidden within the frames of a film, the woman disappeared completely, leaving behind that foul odor that echoed in my head and a residual sense of impending doom.

  Milo grabbed for me, pulling me tightly against him as we both gasped for air. “What was that?” he asked.

  Let’s just get out of here, I sent him. Fast.

  As if on cue, Dana emerged from the barn. “Okay, that’s everyone. Enough messing around, you two. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

  Still a little dazed, I climbed into Calvin’s car as Milo sent me one last worried look before he slid behind the wheel of the truck.

  And, just as we pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, Cal and I glanced back to see the barn explode into a million brilliant pieces, lighting up the night sky.

  No doubt about it—Dana was making damn sure that that facility was never used as a Destiny farm again.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “You missed a spot.”

  Dana pointed to the side of the Doggy Doo Good truck. She held a large roller dipped in black paint.

  Milo saw the section and, with his brush, rolled over the last of the logo.

  We’d parked on the side of a deserted country road. Inside of the truck, the twenty-three girls still slept soundly. On either side of us stretched seemingly endless fields. As the sun began to rise, the green expanse sparkled, dewy, in the foggy light.

  “There,” Dana said, satisfied as she stepped back to look at our work.

  The truck was unrecognizable. Anyone looking for a missing Doggy Doo Good truck wouldn’t look at it twice.

  The four of us stood in front of the vehicle in silence.

  “I guess that’s it,” Dana said, setting down her paint roller and wiping her hands off on her legs.

  I studied her. Nobody had said a word about Lacey since we’d started this little art project. I was dying to talk to her, but knew it was the wrong time.

  Still, it was impossible for me to not feel hopeful. Sasha had said Lacey’s name. That had to mean something, right? After all, Dana hadn’t believed that Sasha was still alive. And now we were bringing her safely home.

  “What now?” Cal asked.

  “Now Milo and I head west. While you guys were buying the paint, I got in touch with the team out in California. They’re heading our way to pick up the girls.” Dana placed her hand over her eyes to shield the ever-brightening sun as she spoke to Cal. “We can trust that these people will find their families, and keep them all safe in the meantime.”

  “So where are you meeting them?” Cal asked.

  Milo stole a glance at Dana. “We don’t know that yet.”

  Dana nodded. “It’s an as-of-yet undetermined location, somewhere between here and there.”

  Cal made a face. “So basically you just don’t want to tell us where you’re going. Top secret, right?”

  Dana shook her head adamantly. “No, Scoot. I’d tell you if I knew. Seriously. I’m not keeping secrets from you.”

  While Milo and Dana headed west, Calvin and I were taking Sasha back to Coconut Key. Dana had been adamant that, once we got into the car, we didn’t stop until we got home.

  “I figured out what you’re going to tell your moms, and even the police, when they ask how you found Sasha,” Dana said. “Sky, you’re going to say you got a call on your cell phone from Sasha yesterday, asking for help. She’d escaped from the kidnappers, and she was so afraid, she made you promise not to ask anyone but Cal for help. Sasha’s a smart girl, so she used Cal’s emergency pin number to make a call from a pay phone. That why her call showed up on your phone as being from Calvin.” Dana wiped one hand on the other, to indicate that the story was neat and tidy. “Finally, when you did end up finding Sasha, she was extremely disoriented—she couldn’t even remember being kidnapped, or escaping, or even calling you for help.”

  Cal nodded solemnly. “Girl, that’s masterful. You’re brilliant.”

  “I get by.” Dana smiled at him, and for a half of a second, she almost looked her age—and like a girl who’d just been called smart by a boy that she might’ve had a crush on.

  I shook my head, thinking about earlier that morning, when Dana had all but returned from the dead—her forehead completely healed even after she’d gotten clobbered with a baseball bat.

  I’d asked Milo about that fairy tale she’d muttered about, and he’d told me there was a myth among Greater-Thans that our power could be enhanced exponentially by true love. Kind of like Sleeping Beauty being wakened from a traumatic head injury, from just one kiss from her Prince Charming. Only in this version, PC rode around in a wheelchair, and SB was a kickass warrior woman.

  Thing is, if Calvin really was Dana’s true love, neither one of them seemed to have mentioned it to the other.

  No doubt they’d figure it out in their own good time.

  Meanwhile, Dana had turned away from Calvin and was staring into space, and I knew she was thinking about her sister Lacey and wondering. What had Sasha seen? What did Sasha know? We’d tried waking Sasha up again, but she didn’t remember ever meeting anyone named Lacey. And then her fear had overwhelmed her, so Dana’d sent her back to sleep.

  Dana now clapped her hands once. “All right! Cool! So we’re good? Everybody knows what they’re doing?”

  “Yeah,” Cal and I both said. Milo nodded.

  “Awesome.” Dana looked at Cal. “Oh. By the way. I’m putting Sky’s training in your hands ’til I get back. So make sure she does her homework. And get the girl to eat. She’s like a frigging bird and she needs those calories to keep up her strength.”

  “Will do,” Cal replied, throwing an affectionate arm around my waist.

  Milo glanced at me and Dana caught the look. “All right,” she said impatiently. “Go say your mushy good-byes and whatever. Scoot and I’ll be waiting over here.”

  I thanked Dana, and then Milo and I walked into the field a little bit, away from the former Doggy Doo Good truck. Through the grass I spotted splashes of yellow wildflowers. It was beautiful.

  Milo took my hand, and little electrical shivers worked their way up my arm.

  “I’m having…”

  “…déjà vu,” Milo finished for me.

  And I laughed. “Yeah,” I said. “You too?”

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sure I dreamed this. Funny, isn’t it?”

  I turned and looked up at him. His eyes locked onto mine, and I felt the world tilt.

  And, instead of answering his question, I bit my lip and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down toward me.

  And he did exactly what I wanted him to.

  He kissed me, his warm lips finding mine as I melted into his embrace, our two worlds melding into a moment that was as perfect as the new day dawning.

  And, when we finally ended that incredible kiss, he held me close and whispered into my ear, “I’ll only be gone a few weeks.”

  “Promise?” I whispered back.

  I could hear Milo’s smile as he spoke. “Promise. I’m not going to pull a Tom Diaz.”

  I laughed and then pulled away just a little bit so that I could look up into his eyes again.

  We’re coming back to get some more answers, Milo told me. Sasha knows something. She has to.

  I nodded.

  Of course I’d come back anyway, he added. I could tell that little comment was delivered to me accidentally.

  Because Milo blushed.

  Thank you, I said.

  “Let’s go,” Milo said, grabbing my hand as we walked back to the truck. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I get to come back and see you again.”

  And, in that moment, just like in that dream we’d shared, I was really, truly happy.

  —

  At a little after noon, Calvin pulled up to my house.

  There was a strange car in the dri
veway—an older model sedan that screamed Mr. Jenkins’s name.

  We went in through the garage, and my mom must’ve heard the door sliding up, because when I opened the entrance from the garage to the kitchen, she was standing there, waiting for me. And sure enough, Mr. Jenkins was standing directly behind her.

  The look on her face—a mixture of relief, anger, fear, and hope—was one I’ll remember all of my life. It was then that I knew—that she knew. About me. Who I was. What I was. And somehow, I knew that Mr. Jenkins knew too.

  I tried for humor. “Would you believe it was a really, really long movie?”

  It didn’t get a laugh. I hadn’t really expected it to.

  “Skylar Reid,” my mother started in a voice that shook with emotion, but then I stepped aside, and she saw Calvin, with little Sasha Rodriguez on his lap.

  And I know I complain a lot about my mom. But when it comes to taking care of little girls who’ve been kidnapped and nearly killed?

  She kinda rocks.

  —

  We never discussed it—my being a Greater-Than, and Momzilla probably having known it from the start. Maybe she was one too. But she didn’t say anything, and I certainly didn’t ask, not wanting to get into even more trouble. It was possible that she didn’t realize that I was onto her and Jenkins. (Please God, don’t let Mr. Jenkins be my father…)

  Instead, we continued on as before.

  I was grounded.

  But Mom only sentenced me to a week, which really wasn’t a terrible punishment considering the fact that I’d aged her at least twenty years when I’d disappeared that night.

  And, really, Sasha had been brought home safe, which pretty much trumped my briefly limited social life in terms of importance. Plus, there were ways around Mom’s rules.

  Meanwhile, Carmen had a chance to finally hold her little girl in her arms again. And Edmund was released from jail. Both dad and daughter remembered nothing about what happened—but maybe that was a good thing, at least for now.

  Still, it haunted me—that moment when Sasha looked into Dana’s eyes and said Lacey? And if it was bugging me, it sure as hell was keeping Dana up at night too.