RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET (31 page)

And yet, he wasn't willing to give up. His father and his uncle hadn't trained him to quit. From the time he was a small child, they'd instilled in him the belief that surrender and defeat were not words the Patrick family understood.

He attempted to increase his energy and lung function though a series of breathing exercises, and it seemed to help. He could feel improvement in his hands and arms—not major improvement, but perhaps enough.

He reached for the power hatch switch again, and this time he was able to flick it upward. The small motor began to buzz and he could see the opening behind him. The success energized him and he was able to crawl out onto the ground, while at the same time using the switch to close the hatch.

He inched toward the nearby woods, continuing his breathing exercises, knowing if his mobility didn't improve and quickly he would be tracked and caught within minutes. He found he was now able to rise from his crawl and continue on his hands and knees—a major refinement that allowed him to not only increase his speed but to reach out and sweep away some of the signs of his trail.

He didn't know how much time he had, but he knew the longer it took for the men to accomplish their indoor tasks, the better for him. If they were absent for as much as an hour, even in his weakened condition he might be able to make it very difficult for them to find him.

He prayed they would be delayed inside, and then he prayed for Rachel and Janie and himself.

Paul and Timothy raced to
the edge of the woods, trying to pinpoint the place where Justin entered. It wasn't difficult, for the crawl marks across the ground were visible, and the broken limbs and disturbed ground cover clearly displayed where he had gone into the forest.

"This might not be as hard as we thought," said Paul. "He's obviously not moving fast."

"Barely moving," said Timothy.

"How long were we inside?" asked Paul.

Timothy looked at his watch. "Two hours. Maybe we shouldn't have stopped to eat."

"He can't get far—even with a two-hour head start, and we don't know if he's that far ahead of us. He might have gotten out ten minutes ago for all we know."

Timothy nodded. "Shall we get help?"

"Not yet. No reason for anyone else to find out about this. We can probably find him on our own. I'm sure I've had more experience in the woods than he has."

Justin kept one word uppermost
in his mind: civilization. He needed human beings—normal human beings, not minions of the God's Way Temple. He needed to find a new road, a new path, a cabin, a house—something where he could find people—people to help him. He understood that even though he was now making good time, some of it on his feet, his body could fail at any moment and he would be easy prey for whoever was pursuing him.

He made it to the top of a ridge in an extensive clearing, hoping that the increased panorama would reveal evidence of some sort of habitation. He was sure he was far enough away from the God's Way Temple by now that whatever structures he came upon would not be part of the cult. When he reached the crest he was astonished by the scene below, for directly ahead less than a mile away ran the mighty Yukon River, for which the Yuktapah River itself was only a tributary. Could he make it to the Yukon's banks? He must. He knew that the city of Whitehorse occupied both sides of the river and civilization had to be close by, either upstream or downstream. He could probably tell which as he got closer. He stumbled on.

Paul and Timothy were growing
frantic. Justin's trail had disappeared within the first two hundred yards and they hadn't been able to pick it up no matter how wide they ranged or how intently they examined the forest floor. The boy was a wraith, a phantom, a spirit—where was he? Where were the signs he had crawled through these woods?

"Shall we go get help?" asked Timothy.

The older man rubbed his face. "Last resort," he said. "First let's strike out for the upper river—maybe he's headed that way. Maybe we can hike across country and cut him off."

Rachel and Janie were beginning
to stir. Rachel opened her eyes first and surveyed the luxurious apartment-like safe room beneath the Temple's kitchen. She got up from the bed and went to the largest of the two windows and yanked back the curtains. The light shining through proved to be an electronic picture of some sort, a moving photograph of a waterfall spurting out of a cliffside. What was on the other side of the photo? Rachel had no idea—maybe a brick wall. She tried the door, but already knew it would be locked. She knew from Idaho Joe's comments that the Prophet J.J. Flack was involved, but she had no concept of where they were or what day it was. She couldn't even guess the time or speculate regarding what their imprisonment meant, though she had a fairly good idea.

She returned to her sister on the double bed. Janie was sleeping so peacefully it seemed a shame to wake her, but Rachel knew she had no choice. They needed to be awake, planning, scheming, fighting, making it clear to whatever sycophants were running this abomination that these two girls were not going to buy into the program.

Janie opened her eyes.

33
The Color Red

Though the rest of Justin's
push to the Yukon River was largely downhill, it was nevertheless a torturous journey. He knew his body was very close to its limit of endurance. His head throbbed wildly and he had no doubt he had suffered a major concussion. His legs were once again so weak he was sure he'd soon be forced back to his knees—if not to his belly. The thought of crawling the remaining distance began to sap his strength and his spirit. He stopped several hundred yards short of his goal and lowered his head below the level of his thighs to see if the additional blood flow would help. It did and he staggered forward.

His last obstacle appeared to be a twenty-foot incline that rose between him and the water, but he had no idea what lay beyond…perhaps a steep drop off. The land seemed to lend itself to such a configuration.

He heard shouts coming from the northwest, and though it sucked much-needed energy from his system, he turned with the hope that it might be someone who would offer assistance. But his hope was dashed when he saw Paul and Timothy angling toward him across the grassy field. They were waving their arms and yelling curses at him that didn't seem commensurate with their claims to spiritual enlightenment.

Justin resumed his forward progress, wondering if he could possibly make it to the top of the hill before he was intercepted. One positive: the shock of seeing and hearing the men who were chasing him galvanized his resolve and kept him on his feet.

He reached the top of the rise with seconds to spare, but to his consternation he now stood on a bluff overlooking the river. The water was at least thirty feet below and the murderers were already at his heels.

What he saw next confused him and caused him to delay making the one move that offered a way out—a plunge into the icy waters of the Yukon. There was a huge cluster of red at the top of his peripheral vision, floating down the center of the river, and a smaller concentration of red and black about forty yards to his right. He couldn't take the time to stop and focus on what he was perceiving—maybe the colors were splashes of blood filling his eyes. He continued toward the edge, forcing all but the task ahead out of his mind. He then threw himself off the cliff, losing control of his body as he fell. He hit the surface in a shattering belly flop and lost consciousness immediately.

When he came to, the
red color was still present—in fact it was everywhere. He was lost in a sea of red.

"Easy, son," said a soaking wet, red-coated RCMP inspector. "The ambulance is on its way. Don't imagine that short dive was responsible for all this."

Justin shook his head. Standing close by were two RCMP staff sergeants in full dress uniforms, also dripping wet. And three riderless black horses waited patiently a few feet away.

"The three of us jumped in after you," said the inspector. "If we die of pneumonia, it's your fault."

Justin managed a glance toward the river and was startled to see the source of the great majority of red he had glimpsed earlier. A long barge, now secured to a small pier, held a score or more Royal Canadian Mounties in full regalia—scarlet uniforms with high-collared tunics, blue pants with yellow leg strips, Sam Browne belts, ox blood riding boots, and Stetson hats. Justin took it all in, but he still didn't understand. He tried to raise up, but the inspector prevented him.

"Parade, son. Water parade. Marine patrol barge—Marine Division. Showing off for the people of Whitehorse down the way. Getting impatient by now, I'd guess, but they'll just have to wait. The staff sergeants and I were supervising from the bank on our mounts. We saw you go in and we went in, too."

"A lot of red," said Justin. "Red everywhere." He began to fade again, but he managed to grin at the inspector and his two subordinates. Then with the last of his strength he looked out again toward the marine patrol barge where all the Mounties were gathered on the near side. And to his astonishment they saluted him.

Of one thing he was certain, for the rest of his life red would be his favorite color.

The door to the dungeon
beneath the Temple kitchen splintered under the force of the battering ram and a beefy RCMP staff sergeant entered the safe room. "Been easier with a key," he said, "but the folks upstairs wouldn't cooperate. Something about us thwarting God's will."

Rachel and Janie watched wide-eyed as a swarm of red-coated Mounties, still in their ceremonial uniforms, followed the sergeant inside.

Rachel tried to speak, "What—"

The sergeant held up a finger. "Wait, I'm supposed to give you a message first…'Justin sent us!' "

The twins stared at each other in wonder. They had assumed Justin was dead, crushed, ruined by the evil men in the white van in the hospital parking lot. They burst into tears at the same moment and ran to embrace each other.

"He's alive!" cried Janie.

Rachel choked back a sob. "Yes, and isn't it just like him to send someone else to do his job."

And then, as if they were ten-year-olds, they held each other even tighter and jumped up and down on the sub-basement floor.

On her way out the splintered door, Rachel said, "Wait a minute." And she went back in, straight to the electronic photograph which served as a window. She picked up a bronze lamp and hurled it directly at the waterfall, smashing both the lamp and the picture. She stood for a moment, watching the sparks fly. Then she turned and said, "I prefer the real thing, thank you."

In the hallway Janie grasped Rachel's hand and whispered, "Good for you—wish it could've been the Prophet's head."

"Just give me another metal lamp if we ever see him again."

The Mounties made short work of the God's Way Temple crowd. All of the male leaders, including Paul and Timothy, were arrested and dragged in for booking. The women were brought in, too; and the children were turned over to child protection services until it could be determined who among their parents had broken what Canadian laws and under what circumstances.

J.J. Flack got the news
in the person of the Montana Attorney General who called him to a meeting in the warden's office.

"Been busy, haven't you, Flack?" said the warden. "First things first. We're currently searching your cell for the phone you've been using so actively. Also you might like to know that three guards have lost their jobs for granting you special privileges. We're fairly certain bribes were involved, so charges against the men will be filed soon. Plus your Temple elders are being transferred out of your section, and your social life will be cut to zero. Solitary will play a big part in your life from now on."

The Prophet narrowed his eyes. "I've got rights! This is nothing more than religious persecution. What possible—"

The attorney general silenced him. "Your Whitehorse operation has exploded. The RCMP has rescued your child brides, and the boy you tried to kill is alive and well."

Flack's visage blackened. He lowered his head but kept his eyes level. The effect was hideous and the two officials flinched.

"New charges will be brought against you," said the attorney general, "—as quickly as we can submit the paperwork. And you can be sure that copies of the new charges will be sent to the court of appeals. I wouldn't count on finding any sympathetic judges in Helena…no matter how much money you toss around."

Flack regained his confidence. "You can't tie me to anything that happened in Canada. That's a brand new church up there, and if they made a few novice mistakes, I had nothing to do with them."

The attorney general smiled coldly. "Your people in Whitehorse are already chirping like crickets. I'll admit they've been protecting you so far—but that'll change. And it's only a matter of time until the surviving member of your gang of hired killers starts talking in Alaska."

Flack shrugged.

"One more thing," said the A.G. We've located and frozen three of your secret bank accounts. We know you've got more, but eventually we'll find those, too.

Seth Lemon sat alone in
his new cell at Deer Lodge. The full story of what had happened to his daughters had finally filtered down to him. For several days he'd been wrestling with the fact that the Prophet had been lying to him all along. Rachel and Janie had been kidnapped, not convinced. They had been in danger from violent men on numerous occasions, and the Prophet had been responsible.

He got to his feet and gazed at the view from his new section. His emotions were in direct conflict with his reason. His reason told him he'd been betrayed, but his emotion told him the man he'd served for so many years was still his leader, still God's representative on earth, still worthy of his loyalty.

34
Recovery

There'd been no argument from
either Justin or the girls about his need to stay in Whitehorse General Hospital until he mended from his ordeal. All knew he'd come close to death, and all knew he needed constant care for as long as it took him to regain his strength.