Dillon nodded, “My senses are heightened, if I concentrate, rather than ignore the extra sensory input, I can use it. Not as well as when I’m… well, you know…”
“Okay, I get it. So, where’s Ryan?”
“Let’s go this way,” he said, pointing up a street to their right.
The farther they drifted from the attack zone, the more frequent they saw other survivors – most moving about with caution and fear as the shadows began to lengthen and darken the side streets. Scant vehicles passed them by – some moving quickly, while others slowed to get a good look at them.
“It’s getting dark.” Dillon spoke as if thinking out loud.
“Should we be out here just wandering around?”
“It might be safer if we found a place to hide for the night.”
Emma looked at Dillon. “Any ideas?”
“I’ve been wondering about that myself. We’ve got to be careful. People are scared. They’re on edge.”
“I can’t really blame them,” she said. “I’m scared myself.”
Dillon wasn’t listening. He had his head tilted slightly up, and she thought she could see his nostrils flaring even in the dusky light.
“He’s close,” was all he said.
Then, turning to look down the street to the south, he was staring at a wide low-slung car as it passed through the intersection.
“C’mon!” Dillon grabbed her hand and pulled her along as he ran toward the vehicle that was moving away from the corner slowly.
“Hey!” Dillon cried out. “Hey, wait!”
Like a careful predator, the sedan slowed.
“What’re you doing?!” Emma felt that same cold knot gripping her stomach like before… when Dillon had –
The vehicle had seemed to slow down as they drew closer.
What was the driver thinking? She felt her pulse jump as Dillon yelled again. “Ryan! Ryan, is that you?!”
The car stopped abruptly as if someone had slammed on the brakes and there was a burst of excess steam belching and hissing into the air. Emma wanted to yell at the driver, to tell him to go away, to leave them alone, but she never got the chance.
Because she heard someone calling her name.
Someone she knew very well.
“Emma!”
“Ryan!”
In the next instant, she saw the rear door swing open to reveal Ryan as he paratrooped free of the lumbering sedan, hit the sidewalk in an awkward stride, and rushed into her arms.
“I thought you were dead!” they both yelled at once.
Nervous laughter burst from them as they continued to hug each other until they were joined by Cal and the slow-moving Ambrose.
And then she listened to her little brother spin out the story of their escape from the Silent Ones’ attack. In a series of staccato sentences, he rattled off sharp-edged descriptions and explanations. Neither she nor Dillon had a chance to interject or ask a question until he’d finished. A typical Ryan performance, and she found herself smiling despite the gruesome details of story.
“I’m not sure I get it,” said Dillon. “Why would the Ethereals save you?”
Ryan brightened. “Oh, right! There’s more I need to tell you. Another story. But I need to hear yours, sis. How’d you guys get away?”
Emma could feel her smile melting away, replaced by an absence expanding in her stomach. She knew she’d have to give Ryan enough information to keep him from asking too many questions – but no way could she ever tell him the complete truth.
“Well, we were kinda lucky, I guess. We were–”
“It was more than luck,” said Dillon, slipping into the conversation. He seemed to sense Emma’s distress about unraveling their experience and was coming to her rescue yet again.
Ryan looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“We were running away from the harbor – just like everybody else – and the streets were getting jammed up with cars and trucks. People were panicking, falling, stumbling, and others falling all over them. That’s when your sister had this great idea…” Dillon paused dramatically.
Everyone turned their gazes onto her, and Emma felt a sting in her gut. What was he talking about?!
“What?” said Ryan. “What’d you do?”
Dillon pushed on: “She grabbed me and pulled me into this big building. The crowds were pouring up the street, past the big glass revolving door. It was an office tower – a really big one – and people were running around like they were on fire.”
Another pause as Dillon seemed to be trying to read his audience’s expressions. Emma was staring at him but he didn’t react. He was lying! He was making up something that was going to sound silly and unbelievable – she could just feel it.
But why was he doing it? To protect himself? To keep her from telling them he was a lycan? Or did he sense she was locking up, not sure what to say?
Regardless, Dillon continued: “And there’s a service elevator at the far end of the lobby. Emma started running for it and I was right behind her. We jumped in, closed the doors, and pushed the down-button!”
Cal raised his hand like he was asking permission to speak. “But that would–”
Dillon ignored him. “And just as we cleared the first floor, she hit the emergency stop-button. It was crazy! We could hear the steam drive and the chains and a bell started to clang.”
Dillon paused. Everyone was looking at him, hanging on his words. Emma could see that they were believing him.
“Then we heard the screaming. Up there – in the lobby. We heard them but we had stopped. We were sealed off.”
“And those things,” said Ryan. “They couldn’t get to you?”
“That’s amazing,” said Cal. “When we tried to hide in the car, they were slipping through the cracks in the doors…”
Dillon shrugged, looked right at Emma. “Wow… it didn’t happen to us. I guess we were lucky… right, Emma?”
She could feel everyone’s attention turn to focus on her like swiveling gun turrets. She was going to have to lie and that had always been one of those things that never came easy to her. But maybe she could simply fudge a reply. As if hearing the voice of some other person – someone she barely recognized – she heard herself speaking.
“We were pretty lucky, I guess.”
No lie there.
Ryan chuckled. “Hey, no kidding!”
Desperate to change the subject, Emma noticed several small groups of people standing on a corner less than a block away, were looking at them.
“Hey, guys, do you think it’s a good idea to be hanging out here?”
“She’s right,” said Cal. “Everybody back into the car and let’s get out of here,”
Without hesitation everyone reached for the doors of the big sedan and slipped into its roomy interior. Cal and Ambrose took the front seats, Emma sat between Dillon and Ryan in the rear. When everyone had settled in, Cal engaged the drive train and the steamer bucked and chugged into motion.
Emma leaned forward toward Ambrose. “What’re we going to do now? Where were you guys headed before you found us?”
Ambrose stroked his beard. ”Well, actually, it appears you found us.”
“I was so freaked when I heard you call my name,” said Ryan. “How’d you know it was me?”
Dillon looked away out the window. “Well, actually, I–”
Not sure where this talk could go. Emma broke it up. “Sorry, to interrupt, but where exactly are we going?”
Ambrose cleared his throat, spoke in a soft, professorial tone. “Well, with the city in disarray and just beginning to pull itself together from the attack, I think we can remain secure if we don’t do anything to draw attention to us.”
Cal chuckled. “Like stealing a car?”
Ryan also smiled, but gave it up when Emma jabbed him with elbow.
“Sadly, it’s unlikely we will be reported by its original owner,” said Ambrose. “Regardless, I think it best to retreat from any populat
ed areas until we can reach other people in the network.”
Emma looked at him, unsure. “Network?”
“Those who run the safe houses and the underground railroad. We need to find out who survived in the area and who did not.”
Cal directed the car onto a wide boulevard heading northeast. “You want me to head out to the county?”
“Farther than that,” said Ambrose. “Get out into the farmland, find a small grocery with a phone. Then I will call into the N3 headquarters and tell them I was covering the attack. I can use their line to make some calls, find a place for you to go to ground.”
“Before we stop anywhere,” Cal said, “I wanna ask Dillon a question. And I need an honest answer.”
Emma felt Dillon stiffen beside her. She knew what was coming. Cal had become suspicious of Dillon back at the safe house when he avoided the silverware they’d used at mealtime.
Dillon sighed. “Yes, I’m a lycan.”
“What?” Ryan said. “You can’t be!”
“It’s true.”
Ambrose didn’t seem surprised. “We’ve suspected it. Must have been the height of irony when we helped you glue hair on your palms.”
“Yes. I’ve been shaving mine for some time now.”
“Why try to pass as human?” Ryan said. “As… food.”
“My mother and I are no-carns. You’ve heard of that group, right? I decided to live as a human slave to protest the way you’re treated.”
“But,” Emma said, “what good is a protest if no one knows?”
“My father knows, and he’s the one who counts.”
Cal said, “So, your dad’s not a no-carn, I take it?”
“My father is Master Simon.”
“No way!” Ryan said.
Emma hid her shock. She hadn’t seen that coming.
Ambrose gave a low whistle. “Well, either you’re the most courageous, dedicated no-carn I’ve ever met, or a most ingenious spy.”
“He’s no spy!” Emma cried. “He saved my life tonight!”
Ryan squeezed her arm. “Really?”
“Really.”
Emma thought she might burst into tears when Ryan extended his hand across her toward Dillon.
“Thank you, Dillon.”
“My pleasure,” Dillon said as they shook.
Ryan could be a bit of a jerk at times, but sometimes she just loved her little brother to pieces.
“Okay,” Cal said. “Now that that’s settled…”
He cranked the petcock that opened up the engine’s output. The sedan surged forward and he steamed away from the city.
After they cleared the city limits, Cal continued his accelerated pace through winding roads and steepening hills until something glinted in the glow of the pre-dawn light. Something white and metallic.
“Hey,” he said to no one in particular and he backed off on the steam pressure, slowing down. “What’s that?”
Squinting through the haze, Emma watched the distant object take more substantial shape. She saw a familiar arrangement of struts and girders.
“Looks like a bridge.”
“Slow down!” said Ambrose.
Emma could detect a hint of panic in the old man’s tone. “What’s wrong?”
Ambrose leaned forward in his seat as he looked ahead of them. “A bridge means a toll. And that means a troll.”
“Okay,” Dillon said. “We might have a chance of crossing in the dark, but I don’t think we should risk it.”
“What’re we going to do?” Emma resisted the urge to reach out and grab Dillon’s arm.
“My mother is friends with a family of militant no-carns who live on this side of the river. I don’t think it’s too far from here.
“Can you find there place the dark?” said Ambrose.
“I don’t know, but I think so.”
“And you think they’ll take us in?”
Dillon smiled “Are you kidding? A chance to help out real humans? Oh yeah, these people are hardcore.”
Ambrose held up his index finger to emphasize what he prepared to say. “Actually the no-carn movement is bigger than you’d think. They’re growing in numbers every day, especially when people learn the truth about the sheeple…”
“That’s true, said Dillon.
“Very well,” said Ambrose. “Let’s go meet these wonderful people. When I can get to the phones, I’ll work on arranging something more permanent.”
Permanent…
Emma glanced at Ryan and knew his reaction mirrored her own: They didn’t want anything permanent in Nocturnia, they wanted to go home. Ambrose had told them that no one who had ever crossed over from Humania had ever returned.
Guess what? Emma thought. With Telly’s help, we’re gonna be the first.
3
Telly stared at the television screen in horror. N3 was running and rerunning film of Balmore’s harbor area and the ghost town the Silent Ones had made of it. He’d left Emma and Ryan there so they’d be safe! He didn’t know whether to scream or cry.
“What’s wrong, Teddy?” Telly had grown used to responding to his Nocturnian name, but he was unable to speak for a moment. “Teddy? You okay?”
He turned to face Vertaj, a necro and probably his best friend on Nocturnia.
“Sorry, Ver. I…I…”
Vertaj seemed to grasp the situation. “Oh, you poor guy. You got family in Balmore?”
What to say? Think!
“I hope so. I mean I hope I still do. An aunt and uncle. Good people. I hope they’re okay.”
“Can’t you call them?”
“They don’t have a phone.”
“Really?” Vertaj put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure they’re okay. Anything I can do?”
Vertaj’s empathy shattered all the zombie stereotypes Telly had absorbed from the Romero films he’d watched growing up. Maybe Vertaj was more like a living person because he’d been resurrected so soon after he died.
“No. But thanks for asking.”
Vertaj started to turn away, then swiveled back. “Almost forgot. Koertig’s looking for you.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Normally that would have been great news. Telly had been trying to worm his way into the scientist’s good graces so he could learn about the breach generator. Even though he knew it created an opening in the Veil between the two worlds, he hadn’t the faintest idea how to start it up and make it work. But at the moment he was more worried about Emma and Ryan. Short of driving down to Balmore – and it might be a while before he could get away with that again – how could he find out if they’d survived the attack? The safe house had no phone, and Nocturnian technology, erratic and not really paralleling what went on in Humania, was years away from developing cell phones.
Okay, he thought. Get a grip. You’ve got to go on the assumption they’re alive – that Cal and Ambrose somehow got them to safety.
So that meant answering Dr. Koertig’s summons and learning all he could, so that when the opportunity presented itself, he could send his half-siblings back home.
He hurried to Koertig’s laboratory area and found him in the rescue chamber. He’d removed an inspection plate on some sort of gadget embedded in the wall and had his left arm inserted to the shoulder. Finally he leaned back and extracted his arm.
“There’s the culprit!”
Telly stiffened when he realized that the arm wasn’t an arm at all, but a sucker-lined tentacle. Would he ever get used to these pluribans and their ability to change body parts like Snap-on tools?
The tip of the tentacle was coiled around an old-fashioned vacuum tube. Solid-state electronics had a long way to go on Nocturnia.
The tentacle wasn’t the only thing weird about Koertig. His body, except for the tentacle, of course, was pretty much standard human – probably lycan – but his head was full-bore troll: bigger than human, with an overhanging brow, a nose like a potato, and pointy ears. Red hair sprouted in all directions, like it was allergic to br
ushes and combs.
“You wanted to see me, doctor?”
“Oh, yes,” he said, as if noticing him for the first time. “You’re the one they call ‘Teddy the fixer,’ are you not?”
“I suppose so.”
“How did you come by such an appellation?”
“It’s just something I do.”
“Fix things? How?”
“I don’t rightly know. If something’s broken, I can usually look at it and figure out how to make it work again. Not always, of course. Some things–”
Koertig gave an impatient wave with his lycan hand. “Yes-yes. Some things are beyond repair. We all know that. Don’t belabor it.”
Wow. The good doctor’s patience tank was running a few quarts low.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for that, apologize for not telling me about this supposed talent of yours.”
“I didn’t think–”
“Of course you didn’t. That’s the problem around here. No one thinks. They either react to an event or emote toward an opinion. But think? Perish the thought!”
Cranky, cranky. Cranky.
“Um, you have a job for me?”
“Yes. And we’ll get to that as soon as you drive over to Armagost Farm and bring back that young human who was so amusing with Falzon the other day.”
Shock pushed the name past his lips before he could stop it. “Ryan?”
Koertig gave him a hard stare. “You know his name?”
Oh, crap.
“I-I was delivering a captured Ethereal to the cells and he was there. We talked a little.”
“About what?”
“Humania.”
“It’s a dull place. Didn’t you learn that in school?”
“I never went to school, sir.”
“What?”
Telly had developed a cover story to explain away his ignorance of the many aspects of Nocturnia that his fellow Uberalls took for granted.
“I grew up on a farm in the center lands. We had no newspaper, no TV, only a radio that didn’t work half the time. My mother taught me to read and write. I spent much of my life thinking the world was full of lycans and that nossies and pluribans and such were imaginary. I’ve had many rude awakenings since I traveled east.”
Family Secrets Page 2
