by C. J. Hill
A low voice came from the door. “Jamison, I’m taking you to your father. You’ll need to come with me quickly and quietly.”
His father? Had his father hired a lawyer for him already?
The door swung open and the first constable, the one with the receding hairline, stood in the hallway. He motioned for Jamison to follow him. Jamison did wordlessly. They went down the hallway to a back door. The constable checked over his shoulder, then opened it. “Overdrake isn’t the only one with friends here. Your father is a good man.” The constable pointed to a blue truck sitting in the street. “That will take you to him.”
“Where’s my jeep?”
“Impounded. I’m sorry about your brother.” With that parting line, the constable shut the door.
Jamison walked over to the truck, his pace picking up speed the farther he went. This hadn’t been a prisoner’s right to speak with legal counsel; it had been a prison break, and the sooner he got away from here, the better.
He climbed into the passenger side of the truck, noting that one of Overdrake’s mechanics sat behind the wheel. His father always called him Leeds. “You never saw me,” Leeds said as Jamison sat down, “and you won’t tell no one I did this.”
“Okay,” Jamison said. “Where’s my dad?”
“We’re picking up your folks.” Leeds shot Jamison a disapproving look. “After that stunt you pulled, the island ain’t safe for none of your family.”
While Jamison had been locked up, he’d imagined many conversations with his father. In most of them his father was yelling at him for being stupid—for underestimating Mr. Overdrake. As Jamison rode to his house, nothing anyone could have said to him was worse than the things he said to himself. Why hadn’t he realized the danger he put his parents in by going to the police with that video? Jamison had turned them all into fugitives. Could they even get off the island safely?
Leeds sped up the winding road, going faster than he should have. “Your dad always said the two of you were oil and water, but for all your Oxford shine, you’re just as hotheaded as he is—going after Overdrake. I’ll give you some advice, boy. Stay away from a man who can control dragons. It ain’t natural. That sort of man is half beast himself. Has to be.”
“What do you mean, Overdrake controls the dragons?”
Leeds swore and kept his gaze on the road. “I shouldn’t have said nothing. We’re not supposed to talk about the dragons.”
“But you know about them,” Jamison said with resentment. “How many people do?”
“As many of us as needs to work with them, and we’re smart enough to keep our mouths shut.”
How many people was that? “What if the dragons get out?” Jamison asked. “They’ll kill people. You know that. You can’t just keep this a secret.”
Leeds snorted. “Overdrake takes one of them out flying nearly every night and you’ve never heard or seen ’em, have you? Dragon lords have a mindlink with dragons. As long as Overdrake is controlling the beasts, they’re as tame as horses.” Leeds shook his head. “I wouldn’t come near the things without Brant or Mr. Overdrake around.”
“Brant is a dragon lord too?” A sickening feeling passed over Jamison. He remembered Brant standing before him in the stables, saw the anger in his eyes with a new light. It was animalistic now.
And Brant wanted Bianca.
“Mr. Overdrake has never used the dragons to go after somebody,” Leeds went on, “but if he did, that person wouldn’t stand a chance. You understand what I’m saying? You’ve got to stay away from Saint Helena. Change your names. Don’t let him find you.”
Jamison did understand. Despite his promises to Bianca, he wouldn’t be able to see her until … he didn’t know when, and she was staying on the island with Brant for another year. Jamison would have to find a way to contact her, to warn her about what Brant was.
Finally, Leeds pulled into the Daniels’s driveway. His father opened the front door. He was still dressed in the clothes he’d worn last night. If he’d slept at all, it hadn’t been for long.
Jamison got out of the truck before it was completely parked. It felt like his heart had lodged somewhere in his throat. Did his father already know the extent of what Jamison had done? Did he know they would have to flee the island? Jamison tried to judge from his father’s grim expression.
“I’m sorry,” Jamison stammered when he reached his father. “I was trying to make things better and I made them worse.”
Before Mr. Daniels could respond, Mrs. Daniels rushed out the door and threw her arms around Jamison. “You’re safe!” she exclaimed. Her words were slurred, either from emotion or the drugs that Dr. Foster gave her hours earlier. “I was so worried when the police called.”
Jamison hugged her back, resting his cheek against her head. “I’m so sorry.”
Leeds had gotten out of the truck, and he strode into the house. “Are these four suitcases all you’re taking?” he called.
“I already packed our car,” Mr. Daniels said.
Leeds walked back past them carrying two large suitcases. “Might not be safe to take your car. Once the police know Jamison is gone, they’ll watch for it.”
“They’ll look at the wharf in Jamestown.” Mr. Daniels went inside and retrieved two more suitcases. “Smitty is waiting for us at Rupert’s Bay.”
Smitty was the captain of a fishing boat and a longtime friend of Mr. Daniels.
Mrs. Daniels pulled away from Jamison. “I packed some of your clothes. We didn’t have room for much. I took all the photos. We can buy everything else.” She glanced at the house. “I need one more thing.” Without further explanation, she hurried back inside the house.
“We don’t have time,” Mr. Daniels called to her. He headed to the truck with the suitcases. “Your mother will ride with Leeds,” he told Jamison. “You and I will follow him in the car.”
“I’ll drive,” Jamison said. The alcohol wasn’t out of his father’s system and the roads were twisting and treacherous. Jamison took the suitcases from his father and hefted them into the back of the truck. Was there anything Jamison needed in the house, anything he couldn’t leave behind? Maybe the events of the night and his lack of sleep were catching up with him. He couldn’t think of anything. He only wanted to get away from the house before the police came here looking for him.
Mrs. Daniels rushed out of the house clutching one of Nathan’s blue school shirts. That’s what she had gone back inside for. As though she had read Jamison’s mind, she said, “I know it’s silly but I had to have something of his.” She climbed into Leeds’s truck while Jamison and his father climbed into the car.
As Leeds turned his truck toward the road, Jamison saw his mother holding the shirt to her face. His family wouldn’t be able to have a funeral. She didn’t get to say goodbye to Nathan. None of them did. This was Jamison’s fault too.
No, not his fault. Langston Overdrake’s fault.
Jamison followed the truck onto the main road. Leeds headed toward Rupert’s Bay. “Where will we go after we leave Saint Helena?” Jamison asked.
“Smitty will take us to a boat going to Cape Town. He’s got new passports for us. From now on you’re Alistair Bartholomew.”
Alistair Bartholomew. The name sounded formal and old-fashioned, like it belonged to someone in the British Parliament.
Mr. Daniels glanced at the rearview mirror, checking to make sure they weren’t being followed. “When we reach Cape Town, we’ll fly to New York.”
“Why not England?”
“Overdrake knows too many people in England. We’re his enemies now and he’s not going to forget that.” Mr. Daniels turned to Jamison to let his words sink in. “Oxford is a necessary loss.”
“I don’t care about Oxford anymore.”
Mr. Daniels stared at Jamison, perhaps realizing what this statement cost him.
“I don’t care about school.” Jamison’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I only want to do one thing now: make L
angston Overdrake pay for what he did to Nathan.”
Mr. Daniels returned his gaze to the road. He didn’t smile, but his voice had a ring of approval to it. “Well, underneath your honors, awards, and valedictorian tassel, it turns out you’re my son after all.” Some of the stiffness in his posture drained away. “I suspected that might be the case when you broke onto the plantation, got proof of the dragons, and took it to the police. That shows backbone. I’m proud of you for it. You weren’t using your mind, though.”
“I know. I should have expected that Langston’s influence reached over the entire island.”
“You should have at least considered it. You win a fight by outthinking your opponent, not by throwing manure on him when you know full well he’s got the upper hand.” Mr. Daniels didn’t say this in a chiding way. It was sincere advice. For once, Jamison felt as though they were on the same side.
“Point taken,” Jamison said. “We need to use strategy. You know Mr. Overdrake and his operations. How do we bring him down?”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve made arrangements to take care of Langston.” Mr. Daniels scowled as he said his boss’s name. “He’s not the only one with friends on this island.”
“What did you do?”
Mr. Daniels leaned back in his seat. “There’s no point in telling you, because I don’t want you involved. It’s enough that you wanted to give up your studies to help me.”
It was obviously something illegal. “We can bring Overdrake to justice the right way,” Jamison said. “Someone in England will listen to us.”
Mr. Daniels let out a grunt. “If we try for justice the right way, we expose ourselves to Overdrake’s operatives and they’ll kill us. You may have noticed in your studies that a lot of idealists end up dead. That is why justice the wrong way is often better.”
“Justice the wrong way is wrong. Thus the term wrong.”
Mr. Daniels waved Jamison’s words away. “If only the method is wrong—not the resulting justice—then it can’t be all that wrong, can it?”
It was an argument that would have kept Jamison’s philosophy class busy for quite a while. Jamison realized then that he’d never given his father enough credit. Despite his rough ways, maybe his father was every bit as smart as Jamison.
“At any rate,” his father went on, “my methods are wrong enough that I’m not telling you about them. And don’t tell your mother any of this. When we arrive in America, you’ll go to college. Earn a degree. Earn several, if you want. Live a normal, happy life as Alistair Bartholomew. I’ll watch for Brant Overdrake and hope he doesn’t show up.”
Jamison kept his eyes on the road, making sure their car hugged the edge of the gray-brown cliffs. “Why would Brant show up in America?”
“He and Langston liked to boast about what they could do to DC with a few dragons.”
“Like what—they want to scorch the White House lawn? Good. I hope they try. I’d like to see the Yanks use them as target practice.”
Mr. Daniels shook his head. “Never assume your enemies are stupid, Jamie. The dragons aren’t just well-plated flying predators—although they are that. They’re fast, tireless, and strong enough to rip cars apart. The only place bullets can pierce a dragon is its underbelly, and the Overdrakes have fitted protection onto that. Dragons can outmaneuver planes and missiles. Radar doesn’t track them. But that’s not the worst of it.” Mr. Daniels let out a tired breath. “Do you know what EMP is?”
“Electromagnetic pulse.” EMP was a high-intensity radiation generated by a nuclear blast. It fried any electric components in its wake.
“When dragons screech in a certain way, they send out EMP.”
“That’s not…” Jamison left the word possible unsaid. He remembered helping to unload new transformers for the ranch’s generators a couple years ago. He had thought it was strange that Overdrake would want so many. He must need to keep them on hand in case the dragons screeched the wrong way …
Mr. Daniels pulled a gold coin from his pocket and fingered it while he spoke. “A dragon could take out an entire city’s electric grid. Lights, radios, computers, TVs—they’d all be worthless. Cars and trucks wouldn’t work either because they have electric components. If the Overdrakes have enough troops to go into the country afterward, they could stage an invasion.”
“Invade America?” Jamison repeated, “America?”
“It’s like Napoleon rising from the grave.”
“America is huge. Where would the Overdrakes get the troops they need?”
“That wasn’t the sort of thing they talked about when I was around.” Mr. Daniels turned the coin over and over, thinking. “It might have just been talk.”
Jamison waited for his father to say more. They both knew that when it came to Langston Overdrake, very little was just talk.
“This is what I know,” Mr. Daniels said. “In about ten years the she-dragon will lay a clutch of eggs. One male, one female. Langston and Brant are planning on relocating to America with the eggs. It’s hard to sneak a dragon through customs, but no one cares if you take a couple of large boulders into the country. The eggs will lay dormant for fifteen to twenty years. That will give the Overdrakes time to become established businessmen—to get the lay of the land, and learn which officials they can bribe. Once the dragons hatch, it only takes them a year to grow full-size. Then they’re ready to be used as weapons.”
Jamison glanced at his father and saw he wasn’t holding a coin at all. It was one of Nathan’s football medals. Mr. Daniels was fingering it as though it were a talisman.
“Are you sure you want to relocate in America?” Jamison asked. “You want to settle in the place the Overdrakes plan to invade with dragons?”
Mr. Daniels nodded. “Yeah. Lots of opportunity in America.”
Which meant his father wasn’t done fighting the Overdrakes. That was good. Jamison wasn’t done fighting them either. Jamison tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. “I don’t think I want to go into business after all. I’d like to study medieval history. I’ll specialize in documents that delve into dragons and Slayers. That way I can research dragons, dragon lords, and their weak spots. If my ancestors took care of dragons once before, they must have written about it somewhere.”
Mr. Daniels reached over and patted Jamison’s shoulder, a sign of support, of understanding. It was ironic really. Nathan’s death could have permanently cemented the wedge between them. Mr. Daniels could have blamed Jamison’s tuition bill for keeping the family on the island. Jamison could have blamed Mr. Daniels for knowing what Mr. Overdrake was and working for him anyway. Those incriminations were laid aside in favor of what was more important: making sure the Overdrakes didn’t get any more power than they already had.
A few minutes later Jamison reached Rupert’s Bay. A small boat waited for them on the shore, ready to take them out to the trawler. Leeds helped the family haul their suitcases and boxes onto the boat, and then Jamison was riding across the water, watching the island recede behind a growing expanse of waves. Had it only been last night that Jamison had told Bianca he would always come back for her?
And now he wasn’t coming back at all.
Chapter 8
It took the Danielses nearly two weeks to reach New York. Once they did, Jamison got hold of a shortwave radio and called Bianca. He wasn’t supposed to. The family was supposed to make a clean break with their past. Jamison had to tell her about Brant, though, and a part of Jamison hoped that Bianca would insist on following him, on finding him.
“Are you all right?” Bianca asked as soon as she heard Jamison’s voice. “What happened to you? Where did your family go?”
“Langston Overdrake killed Nathan,” Jamison told her. He still felt a spike of anger, just saying the words. “I went to the police about it, and they threw me in jail. My whole family had to flee the island.”
“I heard about Nathan.” Bianca’s voice wavered with emotion. “I’m so sorry. It was a
n accident.”
“I can’t talk for long, but I had to warn you about Brant. He’s dangerous. Stay away from him.”
“You don’t have to—”
“He keeps dragons in the meat processing building.”
She didn’t respond. He worried the call had been cut off. He worried she thought he was insane. “Bianca, are you still there?”
“Your brother’s death was an accident,” she said again. “Everyone feels horrible about it.”
She hadn’t given any reaction to his comment about the dragons. The silence was telling. Jamison’s stomach twisted. “You already knew about the dragons, didn’t you?” Brant had probably shown them to her. It was the sort of thing he would enjoy bragging about. He not only had dragons, he could control them.
“Jamison…” She said the word like it was a plea.
“Do you have any idea what Brant and his father are capable of? Do you know what they want to do?”
“His father?” Her voice was cautious. “Didn’t you hear about Mr. Overdrake?” The line crackled a bit. “He died last week.”
“What?” Some of Jamison’s righteous indignation sputtered away. He suddenly wondered what his own father was capable of.
“Mr. Overdrake’s truck plunged off a road, went right off a cliff. Brant thinks someone tampered with the brakes. There’s no way to be sure, though. The truck was too mangled for the police to tell anything.”
A question lingered in her voice. She was waiting for Jamison’s response. He couldn’t speak, didn’t know what to say. And perhaps his silence said as much about Mr. Overdrake’s death as Bianca’s silence earlier had said about her knowledge of the dragons.
“Mrs. Overdrake is beside herself,” Bianca went on. “And Brant, well, it’s up to him now to run the plantation.”
Poor Brant. Jamison still didn’t speak. He didn’t know for sure that his father had anything to do with the accident, but it was all he could think about. His mind wouldn’t bend around any other fact.
