Hear the Children Calling (22 page)

“Except now I’m forbidden to contact her. Our teacher heard me talking to nobody he could see, and he told my mom. She said if she ever heard of me making contact again, she’d—she’d—”

Jenny’s eyes squeezed shut and Michael watched helplessly as she fought with some unspeakable terror. Was it the same kind of feeling he had when he thought of the watch tower? He wondered.

“She said she’d stick my hand on the flame of the stove,” Jenny blurted.

“Ugh!” Michael’s eyes slitted. “She didn’t really ever do that, did she?”

Jenny shook her head. “I don’t know. I dream about it sometimes, and I’m really scared of fire, so I wonder if it could have happened. But I don’t remember.”

The way I’m scared of the watch tower, but can’t remember ever even being up there.

“Jenny, something bad happened to me a few minutes ago,” he said. He went on to describe the terrible pain and the feeling that someone he loved had been torn away from him.

“That girl I keep seeing said it was our father,” Michael said. “But my dad is alive, I know it. And what did she mean our? I don’t have a sister.”

“Maybe you do,” Jenny suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“When I see that woman,” Jenny said, “I sometimes see her with two little boys. And I keep thinking
they should be my brothers. I keep thinking maybe they really
are
my brothers.”

“But you’re an only child, just like me,” Michael pointed out.

“So’s just about everyone else in this place,” Jenny said. “Did you ever notice that? There’s only one of us with a brother, and that’s because Ronnie and Ricky Gautier are twins. How come none of our parents ever had any more children?”

Michael shrugged. “Beats me. But what do I do about the little girl, Jenny? And what do you do about that lady? ’Cause I know you’ll contact her no matter what your mother says.”

“We’ll find them,” Jenny said without hesitation. “Go on back home, Michael. Start making plans. We’ll try to find a way out of here in three days.”

Michael backed away from her, looking at her as if she were crazy. “Out of here?” he echoed. “But, Jenny, it’s dangerous. The Outsiders.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “I’m so sick of hearing about those Outsiders! How bad can they be when my own mother wants to burn my hands? No, I’m going to find that lady, because she’s the only one who’s ever helped me. Tommy Bivers said he’s heard a voice too, from a woman who says that these people mean to hurt us and that we should get away.”

“My dad wouldn’t hurt me.”

The sound of a closing door cut off Jenny’s next words. Her father’s voice was heard through the closed door. He had been in the city that day, on an assignment he wouldn’t talk about, and Jenny hadn’t expected him back so early. She shook her head at Michael, indicating the window. “Hi, Daddy!”

When she left the room, she didn’t open her door wide enough for her father to see Michael scrambling through her window.

Outside, Michael ran through the Segals’ back yard. He paused for just a moment at the street, wondering if he should go home or to his father’s office. He
needed his father now, so he headed toward his building. Once he was inside, he’d be safe . . .

A sudden movement up ahead made him stop short. Michael felt ice rushing through him and heard an inner voice commanding him to run. But he couldn’t move. He could only stare at the familiar, terrifying figure that approached him. It was the young man Bambi had been so cruel to the other day. He walked slowly toward Michael, staring at him with those white-blue eyes, his expression unreadable.

Michael realized he’d been caught disobeying one of Dr. Adams’ prime rules: no children outside at night. He wasn’t certain if this teenager would tell on him. But he was certain the older boy meant no good. And suddenly, his sense came back to him, as did his muscle skills.

He broke into a run, not looking back to see if he was being pursued. Fear was a great source of momentum, and in less than two minutes he crashed through the front doors of his father’s building. His sneakers thudded loudly as he raced down the hall, seeming to send a message: “Child outside! Child outside!”

Michael was crying when he reached his father’s office.

Ralph dropped the pencil he was drawing with and hurried around the drafting table to take his son in his arms. “Whoa, Michael,” he cried. “What’s wrong, son?”

“Daddy, I’m scared.”

Ralph hugged him, feeling the small body tremble violently. “Tell me what happened?”

“I—I got sick when I was doing my homework,” Michael said. “A really bad feeling, like something bad was happening to someone I knew. I thought it was you, Daddy.”

Ralph held him at arm’s length. “I’m fine, Michael,” he said. “Look at me. All in one piece.”

Michael didn’t reflect his smile. “Someone saw me outside,” he said. “That big boy who wears the fringe
jacket. He’s gonna tell on me, I know it. They’re gonna put me up in the watch tower, and—”

“Shh,” Ralph soothed, hugging him again. “No one’s gonna put you in any damned watch tower. Not as long as I’m around.”

Someone knocked at the door. Panicked, Michael looked up at his father. Ralph leaned closer and whispered to him, “Go on in the bathroom and wash your face,” he said. “Don’t come out until you’ve calmed down, understand? I’ll take care of this.”

Michael did as he was told, listening to Dr. Adams’ voice through the door. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but knew the two grown-ups were arguing. Splashing water on his face and drying it with paper towels helped calm him. He took a few deep breaths, then carefully walked into his father’s office.

“Hi, Dr. Adams,” he said sheepishly.

“How long have you been here, Michael?”

Michael looked up at his father. Ralph tugged his ear a few times, and Michael immediately recognized the number two.

“Two hours, Dr. Adams,” he said quickly.

“One of my staff said he saw you outside.”

“Then he’s mistaken,” Ralph said. “Michael’s been with me the whole time.”

Dr. Adams nodded, but there was something doubting in his eyes. “Just make sure you always obey the rules,” he said. He left the room.

Michael went to his father and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad.”

“That was close.”

“I don’t like that man anymore, Dad,” Michael said. “He scares me.”

Ralph didn’t express his own feelings, knowing Michael could read them very well on his own.

I’m scared, too, Michael.

29

J
ILL HAD REMAINED AT THE HOTEL THAT NIGHT, IN
spite of the terrifying incident in the bathroom. It had been too late to go off in search of another place to stay, and she doubted anyone would be so bold as to invade her room again. Awake all night, she tried to figure out exactly how the intruder could have slipped out of a locked room without being seen. Finally, she came up with two possibilities. The first was that someone had slipped something to her in the restaurant, causing her to hallucinate. But the problem with that theory was that there hadn’t been time to plant a suggestion in her head as to what she would envision.

Her second idea made more sense to her. Somehow, when she wasn’t looking, the red-haired man—formerly a Wheaton, Michigan, cop—had set the intruder free. But whatever had happened, Jill understood now that Maureen had been right. “They” had been watching her all along.

She flipped the top of her suitcase back onto her bed and began to repack. Certain now that Ryan was at the LaMane Center, she would proceed to the next step in her plan: surveillance of the area from a safe distance, just as she’d told Maureen.

Jill checked out of the hotel and drove along Central. Every once in a while her line of vision would go to the rearview mirror, just to convince her no one was following her. She drove until she saw the huge, wood-framed stained-glass sun hanging from a signpost outside a small shopping center. She had noticed it on her way home from Maureen’s house the previous
night, the orange-and-yellow flares of glass shining like a beacon in the moonlight, under a sign that said, S
UNFLOWER
M
ALL
. She remembered seeing a large sporting-goods store here and had filed the stained-glass sun away as a landmark.

Although it was small, it was well-stocked, and within twenty minutes Jill had all the things she had been unable to pack in New York. She handed the clerk a credit card and waited impatiently while her order was tallied. Then the teller filled a huge shopping bag with everything she had purchased: a small camp stove, a lantern, a huge canteen, and a box of waterproof matches. There was long underwear, heavy socks, hiking boots, a wool hat, and numerous small items.

“Cold time of the year to be camping,” the teller commented.

“But the best time of year for viewing certain constellations,” Jill answered. She hoisted the bag up, grabbed her new, rolled-up sleeping bag by its cord, and left the store.

Jill then stopped at the grocery for provisions, packed the bags into her car, and drove away. One more stop now, she thought. The most logical place to find a camera store would be near the university. Sure enough, she located one between a shop specializing in stained-glass works and a place called New York Deli. She went inside and found a display of high-powered telescopes. She turned one toward the university grounds, then adjusted the guide scope until she found a letter on a far-off campus building. From this distance, she couldn’t identify it. She peered into the eyepiece and adjusted the focus know until the letter came into perfect view: M.

“Perfect,” Jill said.

After the order had been written up, Jill carried her new prize from the store and set it down carefully on the floor behind her seat. She knew Virginia would have fits to know she had spent money on something she had at least three of at the museum. But there was
no time to have Virginia send her a telescope, and she didn’t want her partner asking questions. It had been hard enough to lie about the trip to Albuquerque, saying a relative had passed away. She seriously doubted Virginia believed a word of it.

But now wasn’t the time to worry about her partner back in New York. Jill turned back onto the highway and headed toward the mountains. She really wanted to go straight to the LaMane Center, but didn’t dare, lest they recognize her. As much as she wanted Ryan back quickly, she knew this had to be done very carefully. There would be no soft hotel bed tonight, but the thick loft of a warm sleeping bag.

Over the past six years, Jill had become used to the seasonal changes on Long Island. Here in Albuquerque, the lack of water provided for very few trees, and most of what Jill saw as she sped along the highway was cast in shades of brown. But when she reached the Sandia Mountains, she was able to marvel at the deftness of nature’s paintbrush. Driving deeper between them, rocks and flora changed from browns to greens to brilliant reds. Early snow dotted the upper cliffs, while small waterfalls spattered rainbows in the air.

Jill could not resist pulling off to the side of the road. She got out of her car and went to a chain-link fence, wondering why it was here among so much natural beauty. A moment later, she understood: it protected travelers from the depths of a dark ravine. Shivering, she went back to her car and continued up into the mountains. There was a sign marked S
ANDIA
C
REST
, but Jill passed the turnoff. She knew the attraction faced Albuquerque itself and that even at this time of year there would be tourists there. What she needed was a place farther into the mountains, one that would give her a good view of the LaMane Center.

It took her half an hour to find it. Pulling her car into a clearing, she got out and walked through a thick growth of juniper and pine. There below her, some
twenty miles from the base of the mountain, was an isolated collection of adobe-style houses. Even without the telescope, Jill could see the rectangular shape of Victory gardens. Twenty years ago, it might have been a hippie commune. But the presence of a long, low building dispelled any ideas that this was a place where people came to get back to nature. Jill suspected it was some kind of hospital or a research laboratory.

She went back to her car and unpacked her equipment, setting up the little stove to start a pot of coffee going. It wasn’t until she breathed in its warm aroma that she realized she was famished. Jill prepared a quick sandwich for herself and ate it with one hand while she erected the telescope. Peering through the lens, she was able to make out the bent-over figure of a woman working in her cactus garden. Jill swung the telescope slowly on its tripod, seeing other adults, a corral of horses, a huge barn, and some stray dogs. But not a single child. Were they keeping them hidden? she wondered. Had Ryan been locked in a prison all these years, unable to see the sun?

The thought depressed her so that she closed her eyes and bent her head. She had to get a look inside the buildings, but that couldn’t be done until nightfall, when lights would be turned on. Realizing this, Jill decided she ought to take a nap. After all, she hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, and she couldn’t afford to fall asleep when she was supposed to be spying on the LaMane Center. She would only sleep for an hour or two, then she would watch some more.

The name “LaMane” echoed in her mind as she drifted off, using her rolled-up sleeping bag as a pillow. The sun shone down through the branches of the trees, caressing her face warmly. LaMane . . . something familiar about it . . . she’d heard it before . . .

She was presented with a newborn Ryan, all wet with fluids from her womb and still attached to his umbilical cord. She cooed at him, gently consoling him as he protested his introduction to the world.

“Oh, Jeffrey, I can’t believe it,” she had cried. “After all these years, a baby! I had almost given up.”

“A baby boy,” Jeffrey said, beaming.

The doctor helped her deliver the afterbirth, then stitched up the episiotomy. At Jill’s request, he got into one of the family pictures the nurse was snapping.