Chapter 18 -- Deadman's Luck
We are strong.
As Jonny's body cleared the edge of the cliff, he grabbed
wildly for any kind of hold, but his hand met only open air. Brandon flailed desperately, screaming
unintelligibly as they fell. The boy's
gyrations caused both of them to twist in midair. Suddenly, Jonny's hand struck something solid. Before the contact even registered on his
conscious mind, he reached out and grabbed at it. Rock! His fingers scrambled
frantically as the rough surface slid through his grasp. But then, his fingers found and tightened on
a projection of stone jutting out from the side of the rockface. For a fleeting instant, relief flooded
through him. Then, agony erupted as he
jerked to a halt and all of the falling weight of his own body and Brandon's
struck his shoulders and arms. Through
a pain-induced haze, he could feel the two of them swinging precariously in the
gusting wind. Do something, he urged himself. You won't last long if you don't.
"Brandon," Jonny whispered hoarsely. "Brandon, can you hear me?" Nothing. He raised his voice and yelled, "Brandon, answer me!" Please let him be conscious, he prayed.
"Yes." The voice was
tiny, almost lost in the shrieking wind and crashing surf, and the terror in it
was overpowering. Jonny opened his eyes
and looked down at the boy. Brandon
still dangled by the ankle from his outstretched arm. He swung free, about five feet from the rockface. As Jonny watched, the boy opened his eyes
and started to look down.
"NO, BRANDON!"
Jonny yelled. "DON'T LOOK DOWN!!! Brandon,
look UP! Look at me! . . . NOW, Brandon!" The boy's head snapped around and he looked
upward. Jonny could see the blind
terror taking over and knew that if he didn't do something quickly, the boy
would panic and they would both be lost. Jonny locked eyes with him and said, slowly and clearly, "We will be
okay, Brandon. But you have to trust me
and do exactly as I say. Do you
understand? Can you do that?"
Slowly, Jonny saw the panic in the boy's eyes recede, and he
nodded hesitantly. The fear was still
there but, at least temporarily, it was under control. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . they might make
it. Suddenly, Jonny felt a tremor
starting in his arm. His shoulder
burned fiercely and he knew that his grip couldn't last much longer. He just prayed his shoulder wasn't
dislocated. But he pushed those
sensations to the back of his mind and concentrated on Brandon. He had to get the boy's weight off of his
arm or they didn't stand a chance.
"Okay, Brandon, here's what we're gonna do. Very slowly and carefully, I want you to
reach up and grab my belt. Come on, you
can do it..."
"But . . . "
"No 'buts', Brandon," Jonny interrupted. "Just do it. One step at a time. Come
on, grab my belt. And don't look
down." Hesitantly, Brandon struggled to
bend at the waist. He reached upward
and grabbed for Jonny's belt. But he
missed by a couple of inches, and collapsed back to his original position. The sudden lunge set both boys swinging
slightly and intense pain shot through Jonny's shoulder, again. His breath hissed sharply through gritted
teeth as he struggled to push back the blackness that threatened to engulf
him. After a long moment, he said
hoarsely, "It's okay, Brandon. That was
good. Now, do it again. Use both hands . . . just like sit-ups . . .
come on, you can do it." Jonny could
feel the boy tense up, and slowly he bent at the waist, bringing his upper body
toward his knees. He reached out and
both hands fastened tightly on Jonny's belt.
"Good! That's a
boy. Now, I want you to take your free
leg and wrap it around mine. Good! That's exactly right," Jonny praised him, as he felt Brandon's free
leg twine around his. "Now, I'm going
to let go of your ankle and . . ."
"NO!" Brandon
cried in panic.
"YES!" Jonny replied urgently. "LISTEN to me, Brandon. I need for you to be able to hold onto me
tightly. And you can't do that if I'm
holding one of your legs. Now, I'm going
to let go of your ankle and I want you to wrap your other leg around me and
hang on just as tightly as you can. Come on, Brandon. You can do this. Okay, here we go..." Jonny released the boy's ankle. Immediately, Brandon's leg snapped around Jonny's body as though drawn
by a magnet. "Good boy!"
Finally, Jonny looked up. They hung about 20 feet below the lip of the cliff. He understood immediately why he hadn't
found a handhold at first. The lip of
the cliff fell about five feet straight down and then the cliff face cut
sharply back, leaving an overhang. Looking at it, Jonny knew there was no way they were going to be able to
climb back up the cliff. And he also knew, without even looking, that
they couldn't go down. Without ropes
and repelling gear, there was no way to descend the almost 80 feet of cliff
below them. And even if they could,
this section of cliff did not have a beach. It fell straight down to jagged rocks and raging water. That meant that one way or the other they
were going to have to move horizontally. But first, he had to get a better hold than the one he had now. He looked more closely at the rocks around
his hands. They were ragged and filled
with cracks, but most of them weren't terribly sharp. Years of wind and driving sea spray and rounded the rough edges.
"Hang on, Brandon. I'm going to shift my hold." Gritting his teeth against the pain, he reached up with his free hand,
and scrambled until his fingers found what seemed to be a secure handhold. Slowly and carefully, he shifted his weight,
distributing it evenly between his two hands. Another sharp stab of pain ran through his shoulder, but then it receded
slightly as the shift in weight took part of the strain off of it. For a minute, Jonny hung by his hands catching
his breath. Then he looked left and
right. About 20 feet down and to his
left he spotted a crag of rock that jutted out from the cliff face. It wasn't large, but if it was strong
enough, it would provide a place to rest briefly while Jonny figured out what
to do next.
"Okay, Brandon, here's what we're gonna do next. About 20 feet away, there's a small ledge
that we're going to head for. What I
need for you to do now is to climb up my body until your arms are around my
neck and your legs are around my waist. Can you do that?"
"Yes." This time
there was no hesitation. Jonny could
feel the boy shift his hold and he deftly shinnied up his body. He looked down as Brandon anchored himself
firmly in the requested position. He
grinned up at Jonny impudently. Somehow, Brandon had lost the fear he had shown earlier. He now gazed up at Jonny with that same
blind faith and confidence he had shown on the mountain in California. Jonny hoped fervently that his confidence
wasn't misplaced.
"Okay, hang on tight. Here we go..." Jonny shifted his
feet up, searching for footholds. Once
he had his feet anchored as best he could he shifted one hand to the left,
hunting for new hand holds. In a
painstakingly slow process, he made his way across the cliff face toward the
ledge. Finally, he reached it. After testing it to make certain it was
solid, he shifted his weight onto it and stood, holding loosely to the cliff
with his hands. The sudden release of
weight on his shoulders brought another wave of pain, but this one was much
less that the earlier ones had been. With a soft sigh, he looked down at Brandon. "Okay, Sport. Very
carefully, I want you to let go of my waist and put your feet on the
ledge. Once you've done that, make sure
you have solid footing and then shift your weight off of me and to the
ledge."
Before long, both of them stood on the small outcropping,
and for the first time the only weight that Jonny supported was his own. He shifted and sank slowly until he was
hunkered down with his back to the cliff. He looked out to sea as he gave his battered body time to recover. Beside him, Brandon slid down into a similar
position. It wasn't long before Jonny
felt the boy begin to shiver. Brandon
wore only a light-weight, long-sleeved shirt. Stress and physical effort had kept him marginally warm up to this
point, but it wouldn't last much longer. Jonny reached out and drew the boy against him, hugging him as close to
his body as he could. He realized that
his first plan -- to find a secure place on the cliff face where they could
wait until his father got home -- was not going to work. Neither one of them would last four hours,
or more, out here in the open.
Looking around him, Jonny was suddenly struck by an
overpowering feeling of familiarity about the view from this spot. But it was more than just familiar
scenery. It was scenery seen from this exact position. But how? By this time, they were close to 40 feet down the cliff face. As he stared out across the ocean, he
suddenly spotted a large clipper ship several miles out. It rolled in the heavy seas, riding high on
the waves. Riding light, Jonny assessed automatically. Wouldn't
have been a good target for pirates.
Pirates. Jonny
stiffened. All of his life he had lived
by the sea . . . first in the Florida Keys and then in Maine. And in all that time, he could never
remember not being fascinated by pirates. As a kid, he loved listening to stories of people like Blackbeard, Black
Bart, Captain Kidd, and Williams Leeds. They had even had the opportunity to search for pirate's treasure with
his dad. To this day, he still wondered
if he and Jessie had really seen the ghost of Blackjack Leeds as his ship sank
off the continental shelf four years ago.
It was by sheer luck that he and Hadji had discovered the
place not too long after Benton Quest had purchased the Maine property. They had been about twelve years old and had
been playing down near the beach. A
game of hide and seek had led them into the extensive rock formations that
bordered the property. While searching
for a good hiding place, Jonny had discovered a cave. He had called to Hadji and the two of them had decided to abandon
their game and explore. It was an
unusual cave. For the first fifty feet
or so it was flat, broad, and well lit by concealed gaps in the roof. But then, at the back they found a
well-disguised passage. It rose into
the cliff, gently at first and them more and more steeply, twisting and turning
on itself time and again. And as they
moved further and further into the darkness, they began to find evidence of
sconces . . . the kind that would have held wood torches. Several days later they had returned with
flashlights and spent the entire day exploring the cave and it's passages. They had found that the main cave was
divided into various chambers, each showing signs of previous use. The passage they had found continued to rise
in the rockwall until, finally, it resolved into stairs and a narrow passage
about five feet high . . . carved painstakingly into the rock. The passage finally came to an end in an
irregularly-shaped chamber about 10 feet in diameter. And off of this chamber, down another short, curving passage, was
an entrance. It was about the size of a
standard house door, and opened onto a broad, sand-floored ledge. It was cleverly concealed by a tilted rock
ledge and looked out over the open ocean about three-fourths of the way up the
rock face. Surely, this must have been
a watchpost . . . a lookout tower used for spotting potential prey for pirates.
Jonny and Hadji had never told their father or Race about
their discovery. It became their secret
place . . . a kind of a clubhouse. They
had carefully outfitted it, and it soon became the place they would go when
they wanted to be alone or to hide very special treasures. As Jonny looked around now, he realized that
he must be very close to the lookout window. He had to be. Maybe . . . just
maybe . . . that old pirate watchpost would prove to be their salvation.
Moving very carefully, Jonny stripped off his wool sweater
and wrapped it around Brandon. The boy
huddled into its warmth, clutching it to himself tightly. Jonny looked at him and stroked his hair
gently, as he said, "Okay, Brandon, here's what we're gonna do. There is a place, very near here, that will
lead us to a passage to the ground. I'm
going to go find it, but I'll have to leave you here for a while."
"NO!" Just that quickly, the panic was back.
"It's all right," he consoled the boy. "I won't go far. And I'll be in sight the entire time. But I don't want to risk you while I search for the
entrance. As soon as I find it, I'll
come back and get you, and then we'll both go there. What I need you to do for me is to stay here and remain very
still so you don't lose your balance. Will you do that for me?"
Reluctantly, Brandon agreed. It was very clear that he wasn't happy, but Jonny knew that he
would do as he had been asked. As he
rose to his feet, Jonny was again thankful that Brandon was such a good and
willing kid. Taking a deep breath,
Jonny anchored his feet and started to move. As soon as he put weight on his shoulder again, that deep, burning pain
returned . . . this time worse than before. But he ignored it. There would
be time to worry about his shoulder once they were off this cliff face. He moved up and to his left. He was positive that their temporary perch
had been a little too low. The entrance
had been higher. In his mind's eye, he
pictured the pattern of rocks that formed the disguising ledge. The ragged, tooth-like pattern was
distinctive . . . particularly the one rock that looked like a broken
eyetooth. He was about ten feet from
Brandon when he spotted it, slightly up and about 15 feet further to his
left. Anxiously, he moved forward. The biting wind and icy cold rock was
rapidly draining his body heat. If he
didn't hurry up, he wouldn't have enough strength left to carry Brandon to
safety.
In his haste to verify the location, he made a near-fatal
mistake. He planted a foot on a small
outcrop of rock and shifted his weight to it without confirming its
stability. When he put his weight on
it, the stone crumbled and broke away. Jonny's feet slipped and he started to fall. Once again, all of his weight shifted to his shoulders, and this
time, when the pain receded, his left arm was gripped by increasing
numbness. He was running out of time.
He could hear Brandon calling to him frantically as he
regained his foothold. "I'm okay," he
called back, and then moved more carefully toward the point on the cliff that
he felt certain held the door. Another
five feet and he could see it clearly. He had been right! Now all he
had left to do was go back, get Brandon, and transfer both of them to the
cave. He refused to even consider the
odds of being able to do that successfully.
Carefully, Jonny crossed back to Brandon. When he reached the ledge, he slid down
beside the boy and looked at him in silence for a long moment while he caught
his breath. Finally, he said, "Well,
Brandon, I found the place. Now we have
to get over there. So when I stand up,
I'm going to need you to work your way up in front of me and grab hold like you
did before."
Brandon stared back at Jonny for a minute, and then he shook
his head. "Why can't I just follow you
. . . put my hands and feet where you put yours? I'll be careful."
"Brandon, I really don't think . . ."
"You're hurt," he said flatly, in a way that brooked no
argument. "You can't carry me any
more. But I can follow you." Jonny tried
to interrupt, but Brandon overrode him. "You have always told me that I can do anything I really set my mind
to. Well, I can do this. You just tell me what to do and how to do
it, and I'll show you. And I won't look down."
Jonny thought about that for a moment. Finally, a slow grin began to form. "All right. Fair enough. But I'm gonna be
really pissed if you fall."
Brandon grinned back. "That's okay. If you fall, I'll be pissed, so we're even."
Jonny laughed out loud. Then he said, "Well, let's get going. It's way too cold to stay out here much longer." And so, inch by inch, the two of them
crossed the cliff face. Jonny led the
way, finding reliable handholds and then talking Brandon through them. Finally, Jonny scrambled over the lip and
onto the ledge. With his remaining
strength, he drew Brandon in after him. Arm in arm, the two of them stumbled down the passage into the inner
chamber and collapsed to the floor in exhaustion.
Brandon was the first to move. He rolled over and struggled to his hands and knees, shoving the
overly long sleeves of Jonny's sweater up to free his hands. He was so cold. Jonny lay where he had fallen, not
moving. Brandon scooted over to him,
and, reaching out, he put a hand on his chest and shook him. "Jonny," he said, "wake up!" Jonny's head lolled back and forth limply,
but he didn't stir. As Brandon watched, he could see Jonny's arms and legs
shaking. He was cold, too! Brandon looked around the chamber, searching
for anything that might help. In the
dim light, he could barely discern what looked to be a chest of some kind. Scrambling up, he ran to the object. It was
a chest . . . a trunk, actually. He
struggled briefly with the catch, then lifted the lid and looked inside. It was full . . . packed with all kinds of
things. He began to feel his way
through the trunk, frantically emptying the contents to the floor in his search
for anything that could be used to
wrap around Jonny.
Suddenly, near the bottom of the trunk, he found something .
. . it felt like a blanket! Brandon
grabbed it and carried it over to Jonny, shaking it out as he went. After tucking the blanket around Jonny as
best he could, Brandon crawled back over to the trunk. During his rummaging, he thought he had come
across a lamp. He felt through all the
stuff still strewn on the floor until his hand contacted glass. He snatched it up and inspected it by
feel. Yes, it was definitely a lamp . .
. one of those old-fashioned kinds that he had seen at his grandmother's house
a long time ago. But how did he light
it? Struggling, he worked the glass
flue off of the base and felt inside. His fingers contacted something stiff and slightly gritty . . . a wick .
. . he rubbed his fingers together, testing the substance between them . . .
ash . . . and it seemed . . . oily? So
it was an oil lamp! Was there any oil
for it? And what about matches to light
it?
He was pretty certain there was nothing like that amongst
the items on the floor, so he returned it to the trunk. Almost the first thing he found was a flat,
metal container about two inches deep. Forcing the lid off, he found . . . matches! Thankfully, he fumbled several out of the box and carefully put
the lid back on. Striking one on the
floor, he used the flickering light it provided to look at the lamp. Yes, definitely an oil lamp. There was a small amount of oil in it, but
not enough to provide light for very long. Holding his wavering match aloft, he turned to the trunk again. Quickly, he spotted a can wrapped in a plastic
bag. His fingers slid slightly on the
greasy surface as he snatched up the bag, lamp and matches, and headed for the
ledge. Once there, he carefully opened
the can and poured oil into the lamp. Then he recapped the can, put it back in the bag, and set it on the
ground. Stepping back inside the
passage, he used his body as a windbreak, while he tried to light the
lamp. It took three tries, but finally
it flared. When he lowered the flue
down onto the lamp base, the flame steadied into a warm, golden gleam of
light. After retrieving the oil can, he
moved back into the cave.
Brandon went to check on Jonny. He was still unconscious, but the blanket Brandon had found was
wrapped tightly around him, and he seemed to be a little warmer. Satisfied with Jonny's condition, Brandon
turned his attention back to the trunk. Maybe he could find another blanket in there for himself . . . he was
cold, too. Furthermore, he needed to
clean up the mess he had made.
By the warm glow of the lamp, he began sorting through the
miscellaneous stuff strewn on about the floor. There were all kinds of things: an assortment of toys, including
matchbox cars, trucks, boats, an erector set, and a rubics cube; and books . .
. Hardy Boys, Tom Swift, a book of logic puzzles, one on traditions and customs
of India, and a big one . . . with lots of pictures . . . on pirates. There were also a few clothes. Brandon literally pounced on a large, heavy
piece of fabric that still lay in the trunk. When he shook it out, he found it was a heavy, wool cape. It reminded him of the capes he had seen in
the movie, The Three Musketeers, that he and Jonny had watched together a
couple of months ago. Almost immediately,
he could feel himself getting warmer as the soft, heavy folds wrapped around
him. Brandon looked in the trunk again
and saw two plastic swords. Slowly, it
began to dawn on him that this must have been where Jonny had played when he
was a kid. Kind of like a private
clubhouse . . . only it was a cave. Hadji must have played here, too . . . Brandon suspected that the books
on logic problems and the customs of India were not Jonny's.
Slowly, Brandon began picking up the things scattered about
the floor. As he did so, he thought about what he had found. He began to realize that Jonny had once been
a boy his own age. He looked at the
cape again. He and Hadji must have
dressed up and played pirates when they were kids . . . just like he used to do. And some instinct told him that Dr. Quest
probably didn't know about this place. He knew that his mother would never have let him play in a place like
this . . . his dad probably wouldn't either. And Brandon would have been willing to bet that neither Dr. Quest nor
Race would have allowed it, if they had known about it.
As Brandon went to put an armful of stuff back into the
trunk, he saw something else lying at the bottom. It was some kind of fabric bag about the size of a large
book. He pulled the bag out and set it
aside. Then, he put everything else
back into the trunk. When he was
finished, he closed the lid, set the lamp on top of it, and settled down on the
floor with the bag. When he opened it,
he found a package inside. It appeared
to be some kind of book wrapped in a greasy-feeling paper. Carefully, he worked at the paper . . .
picking at it. It felt stiff and the
edges were stuck together, as though it hadn't been opened in a long time. Finally, he worked them loose and carefully
unfolded the paper to reveal a large leather-bound book about three inches
thick. He opened the front cover and
looking up at him from the first page was a very beautiful woman. She had blonde hair, deep crystal blue eyes,
and a sweet, warm smile. The picture
was large, the size of one of his school notebooks, and was of the woman's head
and shoulders. Below and to the right
of the picture was a label. It said
simply, "Rachel."
Brandon turned the page and looked down at another large
picture. This one was a full length
shot of a formally dressed couple. Again, the blond woman . . . Rachel . . . was there. With a shock, Brandon recognized the man
with her as Dr. Quest! He was much
younger and stood very straight and stiff in his black tuxedo. The smile on his face was slightly dazed and
thoroughly delighted. Brandon slowly
realized that this was a wedding picture . . . the wedding of Jonny's parents.
The pictures on the facing page were smaller. There were four of them, all of different
groups of people standing with the couple. Brandon studied the pictures carefully, looking at Rachel. She seemed special, somehow. He continued to turn the pages, watching
time pass in the pictures. Settings and
seasons changed, but the one thing that was consistent was the presence of
Rachel. As he looked at the images of
the smiling woman, Brandon understood that this was an album devoted to Jonny's
mother.
Brandon had figured out very soon after they met that
Jonny's mother was not around. And he
never spoke of her. Brandon didn't know
why she was gone and had always been afraid to ask. But looking at these pictures, he was sure it was nothing like
the reason his father was gone.
Suddenly, a new person began to appear in the pictures. It was a baby with a head full of
white-blonde curls and the woman's blue eyes. Brandon knew immediately that this was Jonny. He sat, gazing at the pictures of the joyful couple with the baby
boy, and his heart ached. Why? he wondered bitterly. Why
didn't my parents feel like this about me? What did I do to make them hate me so much? He flipped quickly past a couple of pages,
barely registering the fact that the boy was growing. He had just about decided to put the book away, when he turned
the page and found something different. It was a notecard. On the cover
was spray of blooming flowers and the words,
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.
For the wind passeth over it, and it
is gone.
But the mercy of the Lord is from
everlasting to everlasting.
Psalm
108
He opened the card and on the left he saw the words,
To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven;
A
time to be born, and a time to die;
Die. Brandon stared
at the notecard in shock, barely registering the rest of the quote or the words
to the right of it. Rachel Marie Wildey
Quest . . . returned to the hands of the Father . . . devoted wife . . . loving
mother . . .
Jonny's mother was DEAD! Brandon had always assumed she had just left
. . . like his dad. It had never
occurred to him that she might be dead. Brandon thought about that. His
mother was mean and hateful to him most of the time. But not always. And he
could remember a time when he thought she cared about him . . . a time when
they would laugh and she would play with him. He had loved her then. He still
did. And he would give anything to know
what he had done to make her stop. He
really didn't understand why she didn't love him anymore . . . but maybe
someday she would again. But to imagine
her dead . . . gone forever?
He turned the page again and this time he found a note. Written in a child's block print, it was
very simple and brought tears to Brandon's eyes as he read the words.
Mama,
Daddy
says that if I write this you will see it. I miss you. Please come home.
Love,
Jonny
There were several other notes, all saying pretty much the
same . . . a desperate cry from a small, lonely little boy to someone he would
never see again. Brandon looked over at
Jonny as he lay on the floor facing him. He had never understood how Jonny seemed to always know what he was
feeling and exactly what to do to make him feel better. Sometimes, Brandon had thought that Jonny
could never really understand how he felt about losing his parents. But looking at this book made him realize
that Jonny probably did understand . . . because he had been through it, too.
***
Jonny slowly struggled back to consciousness. He lay there, eyes closed and immobile,
remembering recent events and assessing his physical condition. The first thing he noticed was that he was
lying on a hard surface that radiated a chill through his back. But despite that, he wasn't really cold any
longer. He wasn't exactly warm, either,
but this was still a substantial improvement. His left shoulder ached dully, but the tearing pain seemed to be
gone. As he flexed his arm slightly,
pain shot through his shoulder again. He grimaced. Well, it wasn't
numb any longer. That was an
improvement . . . he guessed.
He became aware of soft sounds, so he opened his eyes and
looked around. Not far away, Brandon
sat against the trunk, the golden glow of the oil lamp gleaming off his bowed
head. Jonny couldn't see his face, but
the set of his shoulders indicated the boy was distressed. Something rested in his lap, and as Jonny
watched, he saw Brandon reach out and turn a page. Jonny tried to remember what he and Hadji used to keep in that
trunk, but kept drawing a blank. It had
been so long since he had been here . . . What could Brandon be looking at that was upsetting him? Jonny shifted and grimaced again as aches
flared up that hadn't been there a moment before.
"Jonny!" Brandon
exclaimed, as he scrambled up and ran to the older boy. Jonny slowly pulled himself into a sitting
position and smiled at the younger boy.
"Hi, Brandon. Sorry,
I seem to have lost it for a while. Was
I out long?"
"Naw, not long," Brandon responded vaguely. "I've just been sitting . . . waiting for
you to wake up."
Jonny arched his back, trying to work out the stiffness, and
asked idly, "What were you looking at?" He looked at Brandon closely as the boy's suddenly stillness warned him
something was wrong.
Finally, Brandon stuttered guiltily, "I-I'm sorry . . . I
d-didn't mean . . . I shouldn't have . . ."
"Brandon!" Jonny
exclaimed, reaching out for him with his good arm. "There's nothing here you aren't welcome to look at." He hugged the boy quickly, then scooted over
to the trunk and picked up the book. He
opened it and stared down at the picture of his mother. Brandon waited fearfully for the
explosion. He knew Jonny was going to
be angry at him for invading his privacy. But to his surprise, a slow smile formed on Jonny's face. He ran a gentle hand down the side of the
page and said softly, "I'd forgotten this was here. Look, Brandon," gesturing for the boy to join him. "This is my mother . . ." Brandon slid down beside Jonny as the older
boy began pointing out people in the pictures. "This is my Grampa Doug . . . he's got a ranch in New Mexico . . . you'd
like it there. And that's Linda. She was my mother's best friend in
college. And that's Mark. He was my Dad's best man when Dad and Mom
got married. He met Linda at the
wedding and they ended up getting married later. Pretty cool, huh?"
"Yeah, that's neat," Brandon replied dutifully. He hesitated fractionally, and then said, "I
didn't know your mom was dead."
Jonny sighed sadly, "Yeah, it happened a long time ago. I still miss her sometimes."
"I wish my mom was dead," the boy mumbled.
"Brandon!"
"No . . . no, not like that. That's not what I meant . . ."
Jonny looked at the boy closely, and then, sliding his good
arm around Brandon's shoulders, asked, "What did you mean, then?"
Brandon sighed. "I
just meant that if she was dead, like your mom, then maybe I could learn to
believe that she really did love me . . . once."
Jonny's heart ached for the boy as he sat there holding
him. Finally, he released his grip, and
positioned Brandon so he could look at him. "Brandon, I don't understand your mother, and I never will. All I know is that when I have kids of my
own, that I hope they are just like you."
"I want to stay with you more than anything in the whole
world," Brandon declared.
Jonny smiled at him. "Maybe. And I would willingly
let you stay. But, Brandon, I think
you'll find that you'll be happier with your dad. And speaking of your dad . . ." Jonny closed the photo album decisively and looked at his watch. "It's 1:45. If we're gonna go find him, we'd better get started." He rose stiffly and walked over to where
he'd been lying earlier. Reaching down,
he picked up the blanket and crossed back to the trunk. He held it in the light for a minute, then
that slow smile formed again. "My Mom
made this for me a long time ago. She
called it a memories quilt. It's made
of pieces of my old clothes that she cut up." Jonny took the quilt and swung it around his shoulders carefully,
grimacing as the pain in his shoulder flared again.
"That's neat," Brandon replied with a spark of
interest. He picked up the album and
offered it to Jonny.
Jonny smiled and shook his head. "Why don't you wrap it back up in the oil cloth, put it back in
the bag, and we'll take it with us. Are
you warm now?"
"Yeah," Brandon replied, as he rewrapped the book. "This cape thing is really warm."
"It always was. It
fits you pretty well, too. It's my old
pirate cape . . . for when Hadji and I used to play pirates."
"Here," Brandon said, as he took off the cape and began
pulling off Jonny's sweater. "I'm
plenty warm with the cape."
Jonny didn't argue, but putting it back on proved to be
difficult. By the time he got the
sweater on over his injured arm, he was breathing heavily and could feel the
sweat running down the small of his back and along his face. Brandon watched anxiously as Jonny rewrapped
himself in the quilt. "Are you okay?"
Supporting the shoulder carefully with his good arm, he
grimaced at the continuing pain. "Not
entirely, but it's better. And I'll be
fine in a while. I see you filled the
lamp. Good. Let's get some spare matches and then I think we better get
started."
Brandon began rooting through the trunk as he asked, "How do
we get down from here?"
"The passage to the ground is in the back of this
cavern. Once we get down to the beach,
we've got a walk ahead of us. We can't
get back into the compound via the footpath from the beach because of the
lockdown. So we're gonna have to go to
the front gate. Are you up for that?"
"I'm fine," Brandon responded stoutly. Then he hesitated, "I am kinda hungry,
though."
Jonny snorted. "I'll
be you are! I'm famished. Well, the
sooner we get started, the sooner we can raid the fridge. We'll grab something to eat, throw some
clothes in a bag, and take off."
"Are we really gonna go looking for my dad?"
"Yes, Brandon, we are. I am not going to let the judge return you to your mother without a
fight. I don't trust her. So we'll find your dad, tell him what's been
going on, and then decide what to do."
"But what if he doesn't want me, either?"
"If that happens, we'll deal with it then."
"Won't this get you in a lot of trouble?"
Jonny laughed and dropped his good arm around the boy's
shoulders, guiding him toward the passage that led to the way out. "It won't be the first time I've been in
trouble . . . and I doubt it will be the last. Don't worry about it, Brandon. The important thing is to find your dad. Now, this is what we're gonna do . . ."
***
A little over an hour later, Jonny and Brandon approached
the main gate to the Compound. They had
left the cave, making their way cautiously down the long steep passage back to
the ground. It has been several years
since Jonny had been to the cave and he had been very grateful to find the
passage clear and much as he remembered it. When they got outside, they found that the wind had picked up and it was
becoming overcast. Looking at the
steadily darkening sky, Jonny was sure there would be snow by nightfall. Without a word, they two of them turned and
began the long walk back to the Compound's main entrance.
As they trudged along in silence, Jonny thought about his
plan to take Brandon and go searching for the boy's father. The more he thought about it, the stupider
the idea seemed. Both of them were
exhausted, they hadn't eaten since breakfast, and the further they walked, the
more convinced Jonny became that he had done serious damage to his left
shoulder. It throbbed steadily now, and
almost any movement of the joint triggered a sharp, knife-like pain that
radiated down the entire arm. He had
just about decided that he would take his chances with Judge Henson, when he
heard voices through the trees ahead of them.
Catching Brandon by the arm, he moved forward slowly and
dropped to a crouch behind a screen of shrubs and undergrowth as the trees
began to thin.
" . . . have a court order here that returns him to my
custody. I want him . . . NOW!" Alicia Simmons' voice could be clearly heard from their hiding
place. They could see her standing
authoritatively at the gate, her head thrown back and a look of triumph on her
face. The expression changed to one of
anger, however, when IRIS responded.
"THIS FACILITY IS UNDER FULL SECURITY LOCKDOWN. NO UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS IS PERMITTED AT THIS
TIME."
"I want my son. Have
someone bring Brandon Simmons to me," she commanded again.
"BRANDON SIMMONS IS UNAVAILABLE AT THIS TIME."
"I don't want to hear 'unavailable', you hear me?" she
shrieked suddenly. "He's mine . . . you understand me? MINE! I want him! Bring me that little shit right now!!!!!" She turned and glared at the man in the Sheriff's uniform who was
standing next to her. "Make them bring
him to me, Dave!"
"Easy, Allie," 'Sgt.' Cason soothed. "We'll get him. Just be patient." The
woman stood before the gate, panting in fury. "I don't understand why you want him so bad, anyway. You've said often enough that he's a pain in
the butt and you want to be rid of him. The Quests want him . . . why not let them have him? It would get the little twerp out of your
hair . . ."
Alicia Simmons turned slowly toward Cason, bringing her
around to face the two in hiding. As he
looked at her, Jonny realized that this woman was capable of anything. She really couldn't be trusted.
"No one," she said in a deadly voice, "takes away anything that belongs to me . . .
whether I want it or not!"
"But what are you gonna do when they find out you've taken
the kid?"
Alicia shrugged negligently. "They can't take back what they can't find." She waved at the gate. "Well, if they won't let us in willingly,
we'll just have to let ourselves in." She looked at him coldly. "Do
whatever it takes."
The two men with baseball bats looked at each other
hesitantly. "I don't know about this,
Case," one of them said to the man standing with Alicia. "Quest has a real reputation. And his bodyguard is a fanatic about
security. This may not be such a good
idea . . ."
"Shut up! Allie
wants her kid, so we're gonna get 'im. You're being paid well enough for this job, so do what you're told. You and you, check along the fence in both
directions and see if there's another way in." Then he pointed at the other man who was with them. "You check the computer monitor and see if
we can use it to get in. If we can't
find any other way, we'll smash it and just go through the front gate. Now let's go!"
Jonny grabbed Brandon and frantically began backing away
from the gate as one of the men came directly toward them. They had to get out of here! IRIS would defend the Compound, but with
these guys hanging around, there was no way he and Brandon could get back
in. And if they were spotted, they
would be in real trouble. He couldn't
go up against four men, two of them armed with bats and at least one of them
with a gun, in the shape he was in right now. Their only chance was to run. Jonny and Brandon rose to their feet and began to move away as quickly
as possible. They hadn't gone far when
they both heard the echoing whine of stun rays and the yells of the men as they
assaulted the defenses of the Quest Compound. Jonny and Brandon sprinted away from the fight as fast as they
could. Listening to the sounds echoing
through the forest, Jonny knew that the decision whether or not they should go
find Brandon's dad had just been taken away from him. They had no choice any more.
***
Fighting an exhaustion-induced haze, Jonny tried to plan
their next move. Food. They had to get something to eat. If they didn't eat soon neither of them
would be able to continue much further. And they also needed clothes. Blankets and play clothes weren't going to keep them warm for much
longer. So when the two of them made it
to the main road, Jonny headed for Camden. They would get what they needed and then head for Bangor. They should be able to catch a flight from
there. Jonny had already decided that
Denver would be the best place to start. There was a certain amount of logic to the idea that Charles Simmons
would have headed back to his family when he left Maine. And since Brandon remembered mountains,
Jonny figured the best place to start would be Denver. Jonny kept glancing over his shoulder
nervously. They couldn't afford to be
out in the open if Alicia Simmons and her henchmen retreated back to the main
road.
The two of them had not been walking long, when an old man
in a pickup truck stopped and offered them a ride. He was headed for Hope and was willing to drop them in
Camden. They had to ride in the back of
the truck, but that was okay with Jonny . . . it meant fewer questions they had
to answer. And it also put distance
between them and the Compound, which was a priority right now. While they rode, Jonny pulled out his wallet
and checked their cash supply. Twenty-three dollars. That
wasn't going to get them very far. He
pulled out a rectangular piece of plastic and gazed at it for a long
moment. The Quest Enterprises credit
card. Unrestricted and no credit
limit. His dad had given it to him many
years before . . . for emergencies, he had said. Well, if this didn't qualify as an emergency, he didn't know what
did. Jonny glanced over at
Brandon. The boy huddled a short
distance away, dozing lightly. Jonny
noticed that Brandon still clung to the bag that contained the photo album of
Jonny's mother. Something about it
seemed to have clicked for Brandon, but Jonny wasn't sure what it was. One of these days they would have to talk
about it, but now wasn't the time.
The old man dropped them in the downtown business district,
not far from the movie theatre. Jonny
chuckled sourly to himself. Well, they had managed to make it to the movie
theatre in Camden . . . just not exactly the way he had planned. With Brandon in his wake, Jonny crossed the
street quickly, heading for the ATM machine at the bank. A few minutes later, he moved away,
pocketing his wallet as he went. He now
had enough money to get some clothes, a good meal and still have plenty of
traveling money. He could use the
credit card again to buy airline tickets.
Jonny looked at his watch . . . 3:30. As much as they needed food, if he didn't get
clothes first, the stores might be closed and they would be in trouble. Jonny looked at Brandon and said, "Well,
Sport, there's a mall a couple of miles from here. We'll do some quick shopping and then get some dinner."
"Why not shop there?" Brandon asked, pointing up the street. Jonny followed Brandon's direction and spotted a Wal-Mart. "Mom always bought all my stuff there." Jonny hesitated. He'd never tried clothes shopping there before. "It's cheap and it's here," Brandon pointed out practically.
Jonny laughed. "Wal-Mart it is."
Forty-five minutes later, they exited with their hands full
of packages. At first, Jonny hadn't
been terribly selective as he pulled stuff off of the rack. Jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, sweaters,
underwear, coats, a suitcase, and a hodgepodge of other items were thrown in
the cart. Surprisingly, it was Brandon
that put his foot down and coordinated their efforts. Jonny discovered that he had some very definite opinions on what
to buy. Brandon hadn't voiced any preferences
the first time Jonny took him shopping, but as they shopped this time, he
seemed to be on familiar ground and would say 'no' in no uncertain terms if
Jonny pulled something he didn't like. And he seemed to have radar for sale items, too. Jonny remembered Brandon telling Judge
Henson that his mother felt he could take care of himself. It seemed that in certain respects, the
woman was right.
After stuffing their purchases into the new suitcase, their
next stop was a truckstop on Route 1. As they ate, the two of them talked about how they were going to get to
Bangor. Jonny had just decided that
they would have to take a bus, when a woman sitting behind them turned, looked
at them, and said,
"Where you boys headed?" She was dressed in blue jeans and a faded flannel shirt, and a battered
hat sat on the table near her empty plate.
"Bangor," Jonny replied cautiously, assessing the woman
carefully. She seemed nice enough.
She was evaluating them as well, Jonny realized. She looked from one to the other and asked
bluntly, "Why are you headed there? You
seem a little young to be traveling on your own. Where's your folks?"
". . . Dad's in Denver," Jonny said vaguely. "We're supposed to catch a flight out of
Bangor to meet him, but we're having transportation problems."
"You're brothers?"
"Hmmmm . . ." Jonny replied noncommittally.
She seemed to make a decision. "Well, I'll tell you what. I'm carrying a load of stuff to Bangor. If you don't mind traveling with me and my dog, I'll be happy to give
you a lift to the airport. I'm truckin'
some stuff for Dysarts, so it won't be out of my way."
Jonny only hesitated for an instant. They needed some breaks and this one looked like it was sent from heaven. "That's really nice of you," he replied finally. "If it really is no trouble, we'll accept. It will save us a lot of time and money. My name's Jon . . . and this is . . . Don."
The woman laughed. "Glad to meet you boys. My
name's Kate, and I'll be glad for the company. Rugs is nice, but he's not much of a conversationist."
"Rugs?" Brandon asked, as the three of them exited the
diner.
Kate laughed again. "Rugrat . . . my dog. Inherited
him from my former partner when he died. Kinda a ratty old thing, but I wouldn't know what to do without
him." She walked up to an 18-wheel
tractor-trailor rig and unlocked the door. It was huge, and the most violent shade of iridescent purple Jonny had
ever seen. Emblazoned on the side in
hot pink and white was the legend Lady Roadrunner. Kate burst out laughing again at their
expressions. "You should see it in
sunshine . . . there's not another like her anywhere."
"I can believe that!" Jonny replied fervently, joining in
her laughter.
"And here is Rugs . . ." The most ancient and mournful-looking basset hound that Jonny and
Brandon had ever seen gazed at them from the open door. "Jake, my former partner, loved Jerry Reed
and old Smoky and the Bandit movies."
Prodding the old dog out of the way, the two boys climbed
into the truck. As Kate climbed in, she
looked at Jonny with concern. "You all
right, son? You don't look real good."
Jonny shrugged and then winced at the stab of pain through
his shoulder. "We were in an accident
earlier today and I'm a little sore."
She nodded. "I
figured. That what happened to your
car?"
"Yeah," Jonny replied, with a warning glance at
Brandon. The boy had been very quiet
ever since they met Kate. He sat
between the two of them, gazing out the front window, his face shuttered. Suddenly, Jonny felt him stiffen. He followed the boy's gaze and was just in
time to see a white car pull into the diner. As the truck began to roll, Cason stepped out and strode toward the pay
phone in the corner. Both of them sat
stiff and silent until the truck cleared the city limits and began the run to
Bangor. Suddenly, Brandon jumped and
looked behind him. Rugs shoved his head
through a gap in the seat and stared at the boy with sad eyes.
"Rugs," Kate scolded. "Now, you leave that boy alone. He loves kids," she confided.
"I like dogs," Brandon said in a quiet voice, and began to
coax the animal onto his lap.
Jonny grinned as Brandon practically disappeared under the
floppy-eared creature. Then he turned
to Kate and said, "So tell us about what you do . . . "
***
Kate dropped them off at the end of the airport road about
two hours later. After a short walk,
they arrived at the terminal. Jonny and
Brandon headed for the schedule boards and began searching for a flight to
Denver. They finally settled on a night
flight scheduled to leave at 11:35 p.m. They could have taken an earlier flight, but they would have had to
change planes. And Jonny knew they were
both nearing the end of their endurance. He doubted either of them could have coped with a plane change in a
strange city in the middle of the night. They had a two and a half hour wait for their flight, but at least it
was a non-stop. Hopefully, they would
be able to get some sleep once they were on board. Two hours later, both sank gratefully into seats and settled in
for the long flight ahead of them.
Jonny leaned back wearily, closed his eyes, and sighed
softly. He felt like absolute
hell. His head and most of the rest of
his body ached dully. And what was
worse, his left shoulder felt as though someone had stuck a knife into it and
was steadily twisting it. It throbbed
constantly, no matter what he tried. He
knew he needed to see a doctor, but he also knew it wouldn't be anytime
soon. Beside him, Brandon sat slumped
in the seat, so soundly asleep that Jonny didn't think anything would wake
him. Jonny would have given a great
deal if he could do the same. He was so
tired . . .
"Your young companion appears to be down for the count," a
soft voice said.
With an effort, Jonny looked up and struggled to smile at
the flight attendant standing beside the sleeping boy. "Yeah, he was pretty beat. I'm glad to see him sleeping."
"Would you like me to get him a pillow and blanket?" she
asked.
"That would be really great. I don't think he'll know the difference right now, but I'd prefer
he doesn't wake up cold."
"I'll be right back," she replied, and walked up the aisle
of the aircraft, checking overhead bins. Jonny watched her numbly, as she used a small penlight to see in the dim
cabin. Once she got the stuff for
Brandon, he would try to sleep. He
didn't figure tomorrow would be much better than today had been. He shook his head muzzily. He knew he should be planning ahead for
tomorrow, but he was operating on too little sleep and he couldn't seem to
think. The flight attendant returned,
gently tucked a pillow under Brandon's head, and covered him with a
blanket. The boy didn't even stir. She straightened, smiled kindly at Jonny,
and handed him another blanket and pillow.
"Here, looks to me like you can use a set of these, too."
Jonny smiled gratefully, taking them from her. "Thanks."
"Where are the two of you headed?"
"Denver."
She nodded. "No
stops between here and there. Don't
worry. I'll see to it you wake up in
time."
He didn't even have the strength to thank her; he just
smiled wearily and settled back in his chair. As he shifted, trying to get comfortable, his mind drifted back over the
recent events . . . it certainly had been one hell of a day.