Fern looked at the picture of her room. She thought of how much she wanted to lie down in bed, to rest, to not be standing in the middle of the backyard worried about whether or not she had it in her to teleport.
Nausea hit first.
Fern’s knees buckled and she felt the ground crumble beneath her feet. The blackness took hold. What felt like a minute to Fern was actually less than a second.
Soon she was able to open her eyes. Dimness transformed into sight. Fern jumped up with her fists in the air. She was in her room. Her messy, beloved room. Fern ran out of the room and to the window in the hallway. She spotted Sam below in the backyard, looking up at the second floor of the McAllister house. Fern cranked open the window and stuck her head out.
“You did it!” Sam said, cupping his hands around his mouth like a megaphone. Fern smiled down at her brother. The feeling was better than almost anything. “Hurry back down here! Let’s try somewhere else . . . somewhere farther!”
Fern bolted down the stairs and was in the backyard within the minute.
“What about the Directory?” Sam said.
“What do you mean?” Fern said, rejoining her brother in the middle of the lawn.
“When you teleported, the Directory went with you?”
“Yeah,” Fern said, looking down and realizing for the first time she was still clutching the Directory.
“That means you can take things with you!” Sam tussled his own blond hair. “I wonder if you could take me with you?”
“Maybe,” Fern said. She opened the Directory.
“Let’s see if we can both go all the way to Pirate’s Cove!” Sam said excitedly. “We can finally check and see if the hole’s still open—and copy down the writing this time!”
Fern grabbed Sam’s shoulder, flipping through the Directory with her other hand. She came to the out-of-focus picture of Pirate’s Cove. Studying the picture carefully, she focused on the curvy shoreline and brown cragged cliffs. Sam put his arm around Fern’s shoulder and held on tightly.
I wish I was somewhere else. I wish I was anywhere but here.
The process seemed so simple and lacked any mystery now. She thought the words and then she was somewhere else. It was a perverted version of Dorothy and her ruby slippers, only without the slippers.
Her stomach wrenched as she flew out of the darkness and fell face forward onto a mound of sand. Brushing herself off, she turned around. Fern was back at Pirate’s Cove, but Sam wasn’t with her. She’d landed at the western end of the beach. The beach was cold and damp. Fog rolled in off the Pacific, cloaking everything in pale gray. At a quarter to seven in the morning, the sandy beach was so empty it was spooky.
Fern’s head was beginning to throb. This was almost the exact spot where she’d met a disguised Vlad with his metal detector. Not wanting to be alone and at Pirate’s Cove any longer than she had to, she ran to the cave where the hole had been before. The back of the cave was dark at this hour of the morning. She felt around the back of it. She pressed her face up against the wall. Finally, she spotted the initials:
MLM + PM
She pressed her hands below them.
The hole was gone. Hard rock stood in its place.
Fern no longer wanted to be anywhere near Pirate’s Cove. She ran back onto the beach. Shivering, she opened The Disappearance Directory and found the jacaranda tree. A small inferno burned in her stomach. Fern made an effort not to double over. Just in time, she felt the blankness come over her.
Her arrival in the jacaranda tree was much more graceful than it had been on the beach. Though Fern wasn’t sure how to control the smoothness of the arrivals and departures, she was overjoyed at the prospect of controlling when and where she disappeared. She climbed out of the jacaranda, her head still throbbing and her stomach still on fire. She ran around the house to the backyard. Byron was waiting for her; he nipped at her heels. Sam smiled but looked disappointed.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t take you along,” Fern said.
“That’s all right,” Sam said. “Was it still there? Did you see the hole?”
“It was gone,” Fern said.
The twins turned around as Mrs. McAllister opened the sliding door that led to the patio in the backyard. “What are you two doing out here so early?” the Commander questioned.
Mrs. McAllister had fallen asleep just after her shower, telling herself she would lie down for a few moments before going to talk to Fern. Her exhaustion soon took hold and she fell into a restless sleep, still in her slippers.
“We’re practicing,” Sam said. “I think we’ve got Fern’s disappearing under control!”
“Maybe not under control,” Fern said, not wanting to overstate the tenuous grasp she had on her teleporting skills, “but I went to my room and back and the beach and back.”
“Really?” Mrs. McAllister said, looking at her daughter.
Fern couldn’t put her finger on it, but her mother’s gaze made Fern uncomfortable. Her mother was looking at her as if she missed Fern, even though Fern was standing right in front of her. She wondered whether what Vlad had said about her mother was already coming true.
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Sam said, picking up on the strange look in his mother’s eyes. “We’re about to take off for school. We won’t be late.”
“You’re not going to school today,” the Commander said.
“Really?” Sam said, gleefully.
“Yes,” Mrs. McAllister said, looking away from her daughter.
“All right!” Sam said, excited by the prospect.
“Why aren’t we?” Fern asked, defensively.
“You want to go to school?” Mrs. McAllister replied.
“Well, I don’t want to not go to school,” Fern said.
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. McAllister said.
“Are we not going to school because I embarrass you?” Fern asked. Fern, who rarely confronted anyone about anything, had taken her mother completely off guard.
“That’s ridiculous, Fern.” The Commander was not prepared for this scenario. She knew she had four hours until Alistair Kimble arrived and had planned on waiting to tell Fern until it felt like the right time. She had to adjust, and quickly.
“There’s something I need to talk to you both about. Please come sit down in the living room.”
Mrs. McAllister marched back into the house, leaving the sliding glass door open so her children could follow. Fern thought the atmosphere very similar to one of the many family meetings that her mother had called. But the haphazard nature of this one was disconcerting.
Sam and Fern sat down and their mother began.
“I had a talk with Alistair Kimble last night,” Mrs. McAllister said. She wasn’t looking at either of them. “I’m not trying to alarm either of you, but Alistair thinks the man who visited you, Fern, is very dangerous and may come back to hurt you.”
“Why wouldn’t he have just hurt Fern right then?” Sam questioned.
“Mr. Kimble didn’t know the answer to that question.”
But Fern did. Vlad didn’t want to hurt Fern; he wanted her to join his ranks. Her stomach lurched inside her.
“Mr. Kimble wants to make sure you’re protected, Fern, until they can figure out what Vlad wants with you.” Mrs. McAllister looked at Fern, trying to detect any fear that Fern might be feeling. Fern flinched.
“Protection?” Fern asked. “That’s why I can’t go back to school?”
“Is Fern going to get a bodyguard?” Sam asked.
“I talked it over with Mr. Kimble, and we both think that you need to be taken somewhere that is absolutely safe—somewhere Vlad can’t get to you.” The Commander’s resolve was tested when she looked into her daughter’s eyes. She was doing this, she repeated silently, to save her daughter.
“Unfortunately, Normals aren’t allowed where you’re going. It’s just for the week, to make sure that we know what Vlad is up to before we let you go back to school and continue on as usual.”
“You’re sending me away?” Fern said. Why were they so worried about Vlad when he hadn’t hurt her the first time? Were they worried that she would follow him?
“You mustn’t look at it like that. I want you to be safe, above all. This isn’t going to be easy for me either, worrying about you all the time while you’re away.”
“Where am I going?”
“He wouldn’t say, but you’ll have a cell phone with you and you can call me or I can call you any time. Mr. Kimble assured me of that.”
“I don’t want to go,” Fern said, crossing her arms. “That’s the last thing in the world I want to do!”
“Well, I’m not giving you the choice,” the Commander said, angered that she was being challenged on a decision that was difficult in the first place. “You’re not safe here with this madman on the loose.”
“What if it’s Mr. Kimble that’s the madman?” Sam interjected.
“I’ve known Alistair Kimble for over thirty years. He’s the one who brought Fern here in the first place.” The Commander’s voice hardened. She thought she might break down. “He’ll be here to pick you up at noon.”
Fern thought about trying to make herself disappear, right then and there. Instead, she chose the more traditional adolescent response: She got up from the couch, marched up the stairs to her room, and slammed the door, pouting.
Mrs. McAllister frowned as Fern climbed up the stairs.
“You really think she needs to go to that place?” Sam said, trying to reason with his mother.
“Yes, Sam, I really do. Fern’s nothing like us. We’re out of our league here. If we want to keep her safe, we’re going to have to work with her kind, at least for the time being.”
Fern grimaced as she heard her mother’s words through the door. Fern’s nothing like us. She wished she hadn’t been able to hear them. Grabbing a pillow, she put it around her ears. Maybe she didn’t belong here. Maybe things would be like this from now on. One unhappy thought followed another, and miserable tears tumbled down her face. Byron sat next to her on the bed. He began licking her face. Fern smiled weakly at him through her tears. Byron, it seemed, was the only one that hadn’t started acting differently because of her powers.
Fern, no longer worried that Lord of the Flies was cursed, set upon taking her mind off her upcoming exile. She had almost finished the book last night in the shower. Things had taken a terrible turn for the boys on the island—all of them had taken on the qualities of savages, and some of them had died. And in the middle of them, Fern read, with filthy body, matted hair, and unwiped nose, Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air of the true, wise friend called Piggy.
Fern read the last few lines and shut the book. She shuddered, filled with unease. Even Ralph, the supposed hero of the book, had fallen prey to savagery. Though she tried to put the story from her mind, she couldn’t help but think about whether there was something similar inside her—a darkness that she couldn’t contain. The heart of a Blout. Maybe her tears were for the very same reason.
Soon Sam came into her room and stayed with her and Byron, but Fern grew more sullen as the day wore on. He tried, in vain, to convince her that this was all for the best. It wasn’t long until noon arrived. None of the McAllisters figured the lawyer would be late. He wasn’t. Just as the grandfather clock in the living room struck twelve, the doorbell rang. Alistair Kimble was at the door in a navy mock turtleneck and dark khaki slacks. His thick calico beard looked alive and his blue sports coat was without a single crease.
“Hello, Mary Lou,” Alistair said, holding a dark leather briefcase in his left hand. Sam and Fern rushed to the front window to look at what might be parked in the driveway.
There had been a lot of speculation as to what kind of car Mr. Alistair Kimble drove. Because he worked such odd hours, very few people had ever seen him behind the wheel. The McAllister twins marveled at what stood parked in their stone driveway.
A white truck, with RALPH’S GROCERY STORES emblazoned on both sides next to pictures of large heirloom tomatoes and even larger juicy steaks, engulfed the entire driveway. After counting all eighteen wheels on the strange vehicle, Fern recognized Mr. Bing in the driver’s seat. Everyone, it seemed, was playing hooky today. He was dressed in a red flannel shirt and looked much more casual than usual.
Before long, Mr. Kimble was in the living room sitting on the couch with Mrs. McAllister. Fern and Sam turned away from the window, and both sat on the sill with their legs dangling.
“Fern, I told your mother that I wanted a minute to discuss this with everybody.”
“Go ahead and discuss it then,” Fern said while rolling her eyes, on edge.
“As your mother has informed you, you will be placed in my protective custody for the next week until we discern what, exactly, Vlad is planning.”
“Where are you going to take me?”
“Headquarters. It’s a compound also known by the name New Tartarus.”
“Where is that?”
“I cannot provide you with that information.”
“What does that mean?”
“Fern, I don’t even know where you’re going,” Mrs. McAllister said. “But you’ll find out and you’ll call me and check in every day. Mr. Kimble’s going to give you his cell phone.”
“I’m not going,” Fern said, growing defiant.
“You must!” Mrs. McAllister said.
“I’m not going,” repeated Fern, “unless Sam comes with me.”
Sam perked up.
“I’m sorry, Fern, but we cannot accommodate that request,” Alistair Kimble remarked flatly.
“Well, then, I’ll just have to take my chances with Vlad trying to kill me.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Mrs. McAllister snapped.
Fern’s eyes flashed. “Vlad told me a few things that you might find interesting, but I guess there’s no need to tell you now,” she said.
“You haven’t told me everything, Fern?” Mrs. McAllister scowled. Fern was acting so out of character. Mr. Kimble stroked his beard and remained the calmest one in the room.
“You never asked,” Fern shot back.
“We may just be able to work something out,” he said, getting up from the couch. “If you’ll excuse me for one moment while I make a phone call.” He walked into the kitchen and let the door shut behind him.
The McAllisters stared at one another. Mrs. McAllister searched for something to say. Fern had never talked back before. Her daughter was changing before her very eyes.
“Fern, I know you don’t want to go, but believe me when I say I’m the last person who would send you somewhere if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary,” she said.
Alistair Kimble walked back in the room.
“I’ve made the arrangements. They’ll allow it this once, but I reserve the right to send Sam home at any time.”
Sam was astonished. Almost every part of him wanted to tag along with Fern and make sure she was all right, but there was a small fraction of him that was deeply afraid. He suppressed his fear.
“Do I need to pack anything?” he asked. Fern perked up too, realizing she hadn’t thought about what she would need for the week.
“No. You will be well looked after. Pajamas, toothbrushes—we have all that,” Mr. Kimble said formally, before pulling his sleeve up to look at his watch. “We’d better get on the road, as they’re expecting us.”
Fern felt queasy. Had Fern known that Sam’s stomach was experiencing the same kind of panic, she might have taken some comfort in it. Both twins put on their brave faces.
“Wait just one second,” the Commander said, unwilling to accept this new change of plan. “I never agreed to letting you take both children. If you can make arrangements for Sam, why can’t you make them for me?”
“Bringing along Sam is already testing the patience of most of the Assembly, Mrs. McAllister. What’s more, he’s a child!”
&nb
sp; “Mom, it’ll be fine. It’s better this way. I’ll give Fern some company. Someone has to be here to tell Eddie what’s going on when he gets home from school.”
Mrs. McAllister’s agitation subsided slightly, but she was still angry. “Alistair, I don’t think there is a single step in this process that you haven’t bungled somehow. I’ll let Sam and Fern go, but only because I don’t feel I have a choice. Take them with the knowledge that if anything should happen to them, I’m holding you responsible,” she said as her jaw jutted out, completing the look of unremitting wrath that had overtaken her face.
In his days as a district head, Alistair Kimble had battled five Hundred-Handers at one time, and still he preferred their slimy vileness to the fearsome glare of Mary Lou McAllister. As Mr. Kimble walked out of the McAllister house, with their Maltese nipping at his heels, he hoped he would not be back under such unpleasant circumstances.
Chapter 15
the atlas ride
The back doors of the truck swung open.
“Good mornin’,” Joseph Bing said, stepping down from the bed of the truck. In the past, he might have appeared slightly grandfatherly in his janitor’s garb, but now the image was complete. Mr. Kimble wasted no time climbing into the back of the huge Mack truck only partially parked in the McAllister driveway (the rest hung out into the street). After saying good-bye to their mother on the porch, Sam and Fern ran toward Bing. They climbed the two stairs into the truck bed, full of anticipation.
Fern gasped.
The inside of that Ralph’s Grocery truck was the single most marvelous thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Fern’s fear and anxiousness dissipated in the cold air of the truck. Antique mirrors adorned walls with velvet lining. Oriental rugs lined the floors. Brown leather recliners faced out from both walls, each chair with its own dark maple table and flat-screen monitor. Blue tear-drop glass light fixtures hung from the ceiling and several bookcases gave the room a library feel. Sam followed Fern, gasping himself at the swanky furnishings matched with state-of-the-art technology.
“I’m glad you’re coming along with us today,” Bing said jubilantly. “I’d best be getting up to the driver’s seat, but enjoy your first ride on the Atlas!” He then disappeared behind a curtain at the end of the room. As Bing drew back the curtain, Fern noticed that this narrow room gave way to another compartment on a platform a few steps above the one they were in.
The Otherworldlies Page 18
