Battlefield

by Debbie Kluge

Story 5 in the Jealousy Series. Jonny and Jessie face separation and their own personal fears as Jonny tries to help a young friend.

19. Darkness Into Light

Chapter 19 -- Darkness into Light

There's no way this will die.

Hadji was tired . . . more tired than he remembered being in a very long time. He couldn't seem to find a happy medium in his life. The entire time he was in Bangalore, he had been restless and unhappy . . . desperate to return home. Now that he was within half an hour of Quest Compound, all he could seem to do was wish he was back in Bangalore. For the first time, something other than duty drew him back there. He had been gone less than 48 hours and already he missed Kefira so much he didn't know what to do. He shook his head. These days it really seemed like he couldn't win. Ruefully, he thought that at least now he had a better idea of how Jonny felt about Jessie.

Jonny. With that fleeting thought, all of his uneasiness returned full force. Ever since yesterday afternoon, he had had a growing feeling that something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on what it was . . . it just was. And the closer he got to home, the stronger it got. As he rolled to a halt at the stop sign near the grocery store in Rockport, the feeling was particularly strong. He needed to get home . . . now. He pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator and sped away. As he glanced in the rear view mirror, he saw a figure chasing after him. He thought it might have been Greg Benford, the reporter for the local newspaper, but he wasn't sure. He didn't stop, though. He was in no mood to talk to anyone except his family right now.

As he approached the turnoff to the Compound, he began to see cars parked along either side of the highway. Hadji's uneasiness exploded into real concern. In an effort to calm himself after the tension of the past few days, he had studiously avoided the distractions of listening to the radio or watching TV while on the flight from Bangalore. But it was no use. Finally, when he arrived in New York City, he decided that perhaps a long, solitary drive to Maine would help clear his head. Suddenly, he wondered if he should have let himself get so out of touch with the rest of the world.

When he turned onto the access road, he was startled to see three people jump out of the bushes at him. One of them was carrying a large camera on his shoulder. Reporters. Hadji cursed fluently in Hindi and accelerated away from them swiftly. Reaching out, he keyed-in an access code on the digital security monitor mounted to the car's dashboard. In that instant, he was very grateful that he had chosen to leave his flight in New York and drive home in one of the Quest vehicles they kept stored in the city.

He came around the final curve and spotted the gate. Three things registered immediately. The first was that the gate was opening; the second, that there was a large crowd of people, obviously reporters, around the gate who were trying to get in as it opened; and third, their entry was being prohibited by four strangers who began clearing a path for his car as he approached. One of them waved him through frantically, and he drove on into the Compound without pausing. He had been a member of the Quest family long enough to recognize government agents when he saw them. Something was definitely up . . . and whatever it was had brought both the reporters and the government out in force. Consumed by fear, he sped toward the main house. He slid the car to a screeching halt, leaped out, and ran for the house.

Another government agent stopped him just inside the main door. This one began demanding identification from him. Mrs. Evans came hurrying in from the direction of the kitchen. "Go away, you," she growled in disgust, making shooing motions at the man. "This boy's Dr. Quest's son. Imagine . . . asking him for identification in his own home! Go away! Git!" She turned to Hadji, relief clear in her eyes. "It's good you're home. Your father needs you. He's in the family room. Go on!"

Hadji caught her hands, pleading, "Mrs. Evans, what has happened? What is wrong? All those reporters? And the government men . . ."

"You've heard nothing?"

"No. I've been traveling, and . . ."

"Hadji."

Hadji's head snapped around, and he saw Benton Quest standing in the doorway to the family room. Behind and slightly to one side of him was another man Hadji didn't know. But it was Benton that held Hadji's attention. He looked old and utterly exhausted. He seemed calm enough on the surface, but Hadji could sense that the quiet facade was being held in place by a very fine thread of self-control. Hadji turned and crossed the space between them in five long strides. "Dr. Quest . . . Father . . ." Hadji felt Benton waver and sag slightly as he reached him. The young man caught him in a firm grip and, for an instant, Benton clung to him fiercely.

Hadji looked from his father to the stranger and asked quietly, "What has happened?" Then, with a jerk of renewed fear, he asked urgently, "Where's Jonny?" Surely, if things were this bad, Jonny should be here somewhere . . .

Hadji felt a shudder pass through Benton as the stranger said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Singh, but your brother . . . died . . . yesterday."

Hadji stared at the man blankly. "Dead? Jonny? But . . . but, that cannot be." He looked at Benton. "Father . . ."

Hadji could feel Benton struggling for control as he straighten and looked at his eldest son. "It's true. It happened early yesterday afternoon."

Placing an arm around him, Hadji turned Benton back into the family room and guided him to the sofa. Across the room, a fire blazed cheerfully in the big fireplace. But Hadji could feel a coldness settling into the center of his soul that he didn't think the fire would ever be able to reach. He noticed that the stranger had followed them into the room, but Hadji ignored him. He sat down beside Benton and said quietly, "Now, Father, can you tell me what has happened? I am finding it very difficult to believe that Jonny is . . . gone."

After a moment, Benton began to tell Hadji of the events of the last few weeks. It came out in fits and starts. When he paused, too choked up to speak, the stranger, who now sat in the large, overstuffed chair nearby, would pick up the story in a calm, even voice until Benton was able to continue. The two of them ended with a description of the frantic search the night before.

Hadji was silent for a long moment before asking, "Have they found the bodies?"

"No," Benton replied wearily. "The Coast Guard commander was here this morning. He says he doesn't believe they ever will find them. He's convinced they've been washed out to open ocean by this time."

Hadji shook his head slowly. "Perhaps. But I will not truly believe Jonny is gone until I see the evidence with my own eyes." Benton looked at him numbly. "Jonny has more lives than a cat. He has returned many times before when we thought he was lost forever."

"Isn't that a little unrealistic?" the stranger asked with a frown.

"Who are you?" Hadji demanded, with a sudden flash of anger. "And what are you doing here?"

"My name is Donald Henson."

"He is the judge who was hearing Brandon's custody case," Benton added. Wearily, he continued, "He's been very . . . supportive . . . through all of this."

Hadji looked at Judge Henson steadily for a long moment before saying evenly, "I do not believe that you knew my brother very well, sir. He is talented, creative, and has a strong sense of self-preservation. More than once he has escaped alive from the most dire circumstances. You are welcome to believe what you like. But I will only believe that he is dead when you show me his body . . . and not before." Turning pointedly away from the judge, Hadji looked at Benton. "When will Race be home? I know you must have called him."

Benton sighed and rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?"

Hadji consulted his watch. "2:17."

"They should be here any time . . . depends on how quickly they managed to leave Colombia. We actually expected you sooner than this."

"I am sorry. I decided not to fly through to Maine. I drove up from New York."

"It's just as well. Somehow the reporters got word that you were due back today, and they probably had the Bangor and Augusta airports staked out. I didn't want you to hear this from them."

"I know," Hadji responded consolingly. "You should rest, Father."

"After Race gets here," Benton replied distractedly. "I . . . I still have to tell Jessie."

"Race will have told her."

"I know. But not the details. He doesn't know them. Jonny . . . cared for her. I owe her that much."

Hadji was about to protest, when the whine of a jet engine pierced the silence. All of them froze, listening, as the sound increased in volume. Finally, the tone changed and then fell silent.

"Stay here," Hadji commanded, rising. "I will meet them." He reached the family room door just as the main door burst open. Race strode in, followed closely by Estella. Both looked grave. Ignoring the government man who attempted to stop him, Race crossed to Hadji.

"Hadji, is it true?"

Hadji shook his head and replied in a low voice, "I cannot say for certain. I just arrived, as well. But they still have not found the bodies. That gives me some hope."

"But there's no doubt they went over the edge of the cliff?"

"Of that they are certain; they have security footage of it. The two of us can inspect it more closely when things have calmed down." Hadji looked around. "Where is Jessie? How is she taking this?"

"She's coming," Race replied. He shook his head. "She's devastated, Hadji. She was silent and withdrawn the entire trip . . . wouldn't talk to either of us. Estella and I don't know what to do."

"You are saying she is behaving as Jonny did in Cairo?"

Race sighed. "Yes . . . that's it exactly. When we first told her, she absolutely exploded. But now . . ." He shook his head again. "They had been fighting right before this happened, and Jonny had gotten into it with one of the interns on the dig. Jessie never had the chance to work it out with him. Can you talk to her, Hadji? Maybe she will listen to you."

"I will try, but I do not believe she will listen to anyone until she . . ."

He fell abruptly silent. Race turned to see his daughter standing in the doorway. She was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She gazed at Hadji, wordlessly begging him to tell her it wasn't true. Under the force of her desperate look, Hadji's eyes fell to the floor, and the incoherent sound of pain and grief she uttered was heart wrenching. Suddenly, her gaze locked on something behind the two men. When they looked, they saw Benton Quest standing in the doorway. Benton and Jessie stood, staring at each other, a wordless conversation seeming to pass between them in that instant.

Finally, Benton whispered, "Jessie. . . " The next thing anyone knew, the two were holding each other tightly and crying uncontrollably as their mutual grief overwhelmed them.

***

Jonny and Brandon stood on a busy city street corner in downtown Denver. Across five lanes of traffic stood a huge, half-finished structure of wood, plaster, and steel. It rose skyward, floor after floor, like a giant. Brandon gazed up at it in awe, completely intimidated.

"Are you sure he's in there, Jonny?" the boy asked in a small voice.

"An electrician named Charles Simmons is assigned to this job. The union local confirmed it. But you're gonna have to point him out, Brandon, because I don't know what he looks like."

Brandon gazed at the building for a long time. Suddenly, he turned to Jonny and said urgently, "No! Let's forget it and go home. I'll go back and live with my mother. I'll just stay out of her way and do what she tells me. I'll be okay."

Jonny knelt in front of the boy, concerned. "Brandon, you know you can't do that! We came all this way to find your father. We can't quit now."

"But what if he doesn't want me? What if he tells me to go away? I . . . I . . ."

Jonny reached out and held the trembling boy, making soft, soothing sounds. Finally he set the boy back from him and said gently, "Brandon, I can't promise you anything. I don't know your father or how he will react to having you here. But we will deal with whatever happens. It's important that we do this. You deserve to know why he left, so we are going to find him and get some answers. Okay?" Brandon stared at Jonny, his indecision clear. Jonny wasn't sure what it would do to him if his father sent him away, but it wouldn't be good . . . that was certain. Jonny just didn't know what else to do. He said gently, "No matter how hard it is, Brandon, in the end it is always better to know the truth. If you walk away now, you will never know. And that will eat at you for the rest of your life. You have the chance to find out what happened. You don't want to pass that up. So let's go, okay?"

"Okay," Brandon whispered.

Jonny stood, put his good arm around the boy's shoulders, and guided him toward the crosswalk. "We won't wait for him to show up . . . we're gonna go ask." Again, Jonny felt Brandon balk, but he led the boy firmly across the street and up to the main gate of the worksite. The two of them stood there until one of the workmen noticed the boys and came over.

"You looking' for somethin'?" the workman asked.

"We're trying to find Charles Simmons," Jonny said.

The workman absently scratched his head. 'You have to talk to the foreman. He's in the office." He pointed toward a trailer about 500 feet away.

"Thank you." Jonny nodded to the man, then crossed to the trailer determinedly, towing Brandon behind him. He knocked sharply, then, in response to the gruff voice that answered, opened the door and entered.

Jonny surveyed the man facing them in the trailer. He was middle aged, lean and rangy, with a bald spot on the top of his head. His hazel eyes looked over the two boys that stood in front of him. Jonny could feel Brandon shrink back and start to shake again as the man said, "Can I help you?"

Jonny returned his look steadily and responded, "I hope so. I understand you have an electrician by the name of Charles Simmons working on this job."

"And if I do?"

"We need to talk to him." Jonny paused, assessing the man. "It's really important. If it's a bad time, we'll wait."

"And what if he doesn't want to talk to you?"

"Why don't we ask him and find out?" Jonny challenged.

The foreman stared at Jonny for a long time, but Jonny didn't flinch. He just returned the stare silently, waiting. Finally, the man looked at Brandon and shook his head. Turning, he banged sharply on the wall of the trailer and yelled, "Joe!"

After a minute, a heavy-set, dark-haired man stuck his head in the door and said, "Yeah, Boss?"

"Go find Charlie Simmons . . . I think he's up on twelve doing the central core wiring . . . tell him I need him down here ASAP. He's got visitors."

The man disappeared, shutting the door behind him. The foreman pointed at a sofa along one wall. "You can wait there."

Silently, the two boys took a seat and waited. After about three minutes, Jonny shifted uncomfortably . . . then shifted again. Brandon looked at him and asked, "Is it still bad?"

Jonny smiled with an effort. "It's okay, Brandon. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"I'm really, really sorry."

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident. I don't want you to worry about it."

The two of them fell silent again. The foreman watched them out of the corner of his eye. The older boy looked really bad. His skin was pale with a slightly gray cast, and there were dark circles under his eyes . . . the kind that were put there by lack of sleep and pain. Finally, he said, "Would you boys like anything? I got coffee and some soda."

Brandon shook his head silently, and Jonny offered a shadow of a smile and said politely, "No, thank you. We're fine."

The foreman snorted. "I don't believe 'fine' is the right word. What'd you do to yourself, son?"

Jonny started to shrug, and then swore as the pain intensified sharply. "Shit!" He breathed heavily as sweat started trickling down the side of his face. It was getting worse and worse. He didn't know how much longer he could take this. Slowly, it began to subside. "I took a fall yesterday. Pulled my shoulder, I guess. But it'll be okay . . . it's already getting better." Liar, his mind jeered at him.

"Uh huh," the man said sarcastically. Jonny could hear the underlying concern in this voice. "You better get it looked at, kid."

"I will . . . as soon as we see Charles Simmons."

"Why is it so important for you to see Charlie? He in some kind of trouble?"

But before Jonny could answer, the door to the trailer opened and a man entered. He was tall and compactly built, with broad shoulders and brown eyes. His full, thick, brown hair was sprinkled with gray, and laugh lines showed around his mouth and eyes. Gazing at him, Jonny knew they had found the right Charles Simmons. This would be Brandon in 30 years.

"You looking for me, Boss?" His voice trailed off as he stood transfixed, staring at the two people sitting on the sofa. In disbelief, he whispered, "Brandon??????"

Hesitantly, Brandon stood and said, "Daddy . . ."

Charles Simmons surged forward and snatched up the boy, holding him tightly and whispering over and over, "Brandon . . . oh, God . . . Brandon . . ." The boy clung to his father desperately, crying incoherently. Jonny leaned into the sofa, laid his head on the back, and closed his eyes. The worst was over . . . he could go home now . . .

Charles Simmons finally released his son and knelt in front of him. "Brandon, what are you doing here?" He paused. "Does your mother know you're here?"

"No," he said reluctantly. "I came here to find you."

Charles stared at the boy sternly. "Are you telling me you ran away from home?"

"Not exactly. I wasn't living with Mom when we left."

"Why not?" Charles asked sharply.

"The judge said she was . . . was . . ." he searched for the word, " . . . unfit? Is that the right word, Jonny?" The three men turned to look at the blonde young man on the sofa. But Jonny didn't respond. He was out cold.

***

Hadji sat, working quietly at the computer in the growing darkness of early evening. Race had insisted that Benton go upstairs and rest. After much coaxing and insistence, he had finally gotten him to agree. Race was sitting with him to ensure he stayed there. Estella was in Jessie's room doing the same thing with her. Not that it was necessary . . . Jessie showed absolutely no inclination to do anything but lie in silence. Hadji had done as Race asked and tried to talk with her, but she had simply turned and walked away. Mrs. Evans was in the kitchen, cooking. She had been cooking all day. Outwardly, she seemed as she always did . . . gruff, practical and no-nonsense. But when you looked in her eyes, you could see the sadness. She grieved for Jonny in her own way.

Henson was still there, but Hadji wished he would leave. He was sure Henson was a good man, and his father seemed to take a great deal of comfort in having him in the house, but Hadji just didn't like him. He didn't really know why. He knew the feeling was irrational, but if the man had not agreed to rehear the custody case . . . or if he had just awarded custody to his father at the first hearing, none of this would have happened. He knew it was unfair, but it didn't change the way he felt. His brother was gone and it seemed that nothing was going to change that.

"Mr. Singh . . ."

Hadji looked up to see Henson standing in the doorway. "Yes?" he responded, somewhat curtly.

"I would like to use the phone. I wonder if you could clear the line for me."

Hadji turned and worked briefly at the computer. Then, without turning back to the man, he said, "You have a clear line. Use the phone in Dr. Quest's office down the hall."

"Thank you."

Hadji listened to the man retreat. A short time later, he could hear Henson's voice drifting down the hallway. Hadji sighed. That was another nightmare. Somehow, the reporters planted at the gate had gotten the private phone numbers into the Compound. Shortly after he got home, the phone and fax lines began to ring incessantly. Reporters hounded them, and well-intentioned friends and acquaintances had begun to call to offer condolences and assistance. It finally became more than any of them could bear. Eventually, Hadji put the Compound on lockdown again, and shut down all the phone and fax lines into the complex. It essentially cut them off from the world. Probably not a good idea, but none of them felt up to dealing with the world right now, anyway.

Hadji knew what Henson was doing. He was checking with the local police . . . again. An arrest warrant had been issued for Alicia Simmons and her "friends". Henson was pursuing them with a single-mindedness that seemed somewhat obsessive. At this point, the police had been unable to locate them, but Hadji was sure it was only a matter of time. What would happen then was anyone's guess. He wasn't really sure they had anything other then attempted breaking and entering to charge them with. Both he and Race had watched the security tapes repeatedly. The threats Alicia Simmons had made seemed somewhat vague and open to interpretation. As much as he would like to see her tossed in jail with the key thrown away, he wasn't certain that was going to be possible.

Hadji stared at the computer screen in front of him, again. He had been trying to write a letter to Kefira. The last words he had written sat there, seeming to mock him.

"I simply cannot believe he is dead. They still have not found his body, and without it, perhaps I never will."

He knew that was true . . . for all of them. There was no sense of closure here, and there never would be if they couldn't see the evidence of his death in front of them. He reached for the mouse and saved the file. He just couldn't seem to finish it. Maybe he would call her later. He sat for a long time, staring blindly at the screen. Finally, he decided that he had to do something. Quietly, he said, "IRIS, I want you to start a search of all sources worldwide for any trace of Jonathan Benton Quest or Brandon Charles Simmons. Compile a list, with detail, of any activity by anyone with those names in the last 36 hours."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. PLEASE SPECIFY RESOURCE PRIORITY FOR THIS SEARCH."

He thought a bit longer. "High priority. Divert all but essential resources to the search. Suspend all lesser priority activities."

"ACKNOWLEDGED. COMPOUND ESSENTIAL FUNCTIONS AND SECURITY ISOLATED AND RESOURCES DEDICATED. SUSPENDING ALL OTHER ACTIVITIES. INITIATING SEARCH. ANTICIPATED COMPLETION TIME, FOUR HOURS, THIRTY-EIGHT MINUTES."

Hadji rose and moved away from the computer terminal. Sitting there staring at it wouldn't make IRIS work any faster. He sighed. He didn't know what this would prove . . . negative evidence was better than no evidence at all. He hoped . . .

***

Jessie heard Estella shift in her chair again. She wished her mother would just go away and leave her alone. But Jessie also knew why that wasn't going to happen. Shortly after they had returned, Jessie had told Dr. Quest she was going to go out to the place where Jonny fell. She had only wanted to see where it happened, not throw herself off of the cliff or anything crazy like that. But all of them had come completely unglued. Her mother had gone white and just sank into a chair, shaking her head and mumbling, "no, no, no, no" over and over. Her father had rushed to her, concerned and afraid, and then had turned on Jessie in anger, demanding to know how she could be so stupid and heartless. And Dr. Quest . . . Jessie just closed her eyes, remembering the pain and anguish in his voice as he begged her not to go near that spot. Although she desperately needed to see the place where it happened, she simply couldn't bring herself to go there against his wishes. No matter how much she felt she had lost, she couldn't begin to imagine what he was feeling. First his wife . . . and now his son.

She thought of what her parents had told her about what had happened in Cairo, and of what her mother had said to her in Paris. Jonny had loved her. Of that she was certain . . . now . . . when it was too late. Tears soaked into her pillow again, as she lay there thinking of all the things she and Jonny had never had the chance to say . . . or do. If only she had a second chance . . .

***

Jonny woke to the muted sound of chimes and a voice saying, "Dr. Benford, dial 452. Dr. Benford, 452 please."

Then, very close at hand, he heard a low voice say, "I'm sorry, but there's simply nothing I can do. Without permission of his parent or guardian, my hands are tied."

"But the boy is hurt! You say there's a chance of permanent damage if the injury isn't repaired as soon as possible. Surely, the boy's father won't object to you caring for his son."

"If we could just reach him! A verbal authorization over the phone would be enough. But we simply can't get through. Your son insists it's the right number, but all we get is a message saying that the call can't be connected."

Where was he? Jonny opened his eyes and looked around groggily. A hospital? Oh God, he hated hospitals! What was he doing here? He rolled his head to one side and spotted a stranger in hospital scrubs talking to someone that looked vaguely familiar. It took his mind a minute to connect a name with a face . . . Charles Simmons. Behind the two men was a woman he didn't know. She stood quietly with one hand resting on Brandon's shoulder. As Jonny recognized Brandon, the boy looked up and their eyes locked.

"Jonny!" The boy shrugged off the restraining hand on his shoulder and darted across the room, dodging the grasping hands that tried to stop him. Brandon reached the bedside and stopped, gazing at Jonny anxiously.

"Hi, Sport. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Are you okay?" Jonny reached out with his right hand and ruffled Brandon's hair gently. As he did so, he realized that his left arm was totally immobile. As the doctor and Charles Simmons reached his bedside, Jonny looked up and said, "I take it I got a problem."

"Yes, son, I'm afraid you do," the doctor responded. "It looks like almost all of the tendons and ligaments in your left shoulder have been torn. They need to be repaired and reattached."

Jonny sighed and closed his eyes. He felt like he was floating . . . kind of disconnected. He still hurt . . . but he couldn't seem to care. And he was so tired . . . He thought about what the doctor had told him. He really, really hated hospitals, but it didn't seem like he had much choice. Finally, he said, "So do it."

"I wish I could, but I need your parents' consent. You're still technically a minor and we can't proceed on your authorization. We've been trying to reach your father by phone, but haven't been able to get through. Is there any other way to contact either him or your mother?" Jonny was silent.

Finally, Brandon replied, "His mother is dead."

Restless, Jonny tuned out the doctor. The pain in his shoulder was getting worse, and he felt like hell. He tried to distract himself by focusing on the TV, and said, "Brandon knows how to reach my dad."

"But Jonny, I can't!" the boy said desperately. "The call won't go through. I've tried and tried."

Jonny closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift away again. "Just keep trying, Brandon. They'll get it fixed."

"But, Jonny . . ." The boy stopped as he realized that Jonny was out cold again.

***

When the pain drove Jonny back to consciousness again it was dark and quiet. The door into the hallway was open about six inches, spilling a triangular shape of warm, white light into the room. He lay for a moment, assessing how he felt. Worse than before, he decided. The disconnected feeling was gone and his shoulder throbbed steadily. If only it would stop . . .

In the reflected light, he suddenly noticed Brandon sitting in a chair across the room. When the boy saw that Jonny was awake, he rose and crossed to the bed. Brandon greeted him with a soft, "Hi."

"Hi," Jonny responded. "What time is it?"

"About seven."

Jonny shifted uneasily, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Where's your dad?"

Brandon climbed up carefully and sat on the edge of the bed. Jonny shifted slightly, making more room for the boy. "He's looking for the doctor or someone else who can tell us how you are. We just got back."

"Where did you go?"

"To my dad's house. Sue said we needed to eat dinner."

"Who's Sue?"

"She's my dad's new wife."

Jonny looked at the boy closely. "Are you okay with that?"

Brandon thought about it for a minute. Then he shrugged. "Yeah. I guess. She's nice. And she really likes my dad. I can tell. They have two kids, and they're nice, too. They're younger than me. You know, they all knew about me. I guess my dad told them."

"That's cool." Jonny shifted uncomfortably again. "Did you ever reach my dad, Brandon?"

The boy shook his head. "No. The phone still won't work."

Jonny frowned, trying to sit up. He grimaced as the pain in his shoulder worsened. "That's weird. I can understand the phones being down for a while if the weather turned bad or something, but they should be working by this time." Jonny tried to turn and reach for the phone, but stopped as the throbbing pain in his shoulder flared viciously, almost making him sick to his stomach. He dropped back in the bed, sweating and swearing. Brandon reached up, pressed a button, and the head of the bed began to rise slowly.

"That's good," Jonny said hoarsely. "Thanks, Brandon. I take it they haven't done anything about my shoulder yet."

The boy shook his head. "No. They said they can't without your dad's permission, even though you told them they could."

Jonny sighed. "Give me the phone, Brandon. I'll try and see if I can get through. Why don't you turn on the TV?"

Brandon reached out and pressed the power button for the TV set as Jonny began to dial. After a moment, the system responded with a high, fast circuit busy signal. As Jonny began redialing his home number, Charles Simmons, the doctor and a nurse entered the room. Brandon sat there, idly channel surfing. The doctor greeted Jonny, and Charles began to scold Brandon about sitting on the bed, as the irritating tone came through the phone again. Jonny was just about to hang up and dial the Maine operator, when a picture of his father flashed across the TV screen.

"Whoa . . . wait . . . Brandon, go back. That was Dad!" Brandon surfed backward but when he reached the right channel, they found it was a news program and the reporters had moved on to another story.

"Try CNN or CNN Headline News. Whatever the story is, maybe it will be big enough to be reported on one of them."

Brandon bounced around the channels until he found Headline News. A man was running down the latest sports scores.

"That's good, Brandon. Let's leave it there and see what we get."

Jonny talked quietly with the doctor, as Charles picked Brandon up and set him on the floor. Jonny was about to tell him it was okay, when the picture of Benton Quest flashed on the screen again, and the reporter began,

"And in our top story tonight, world-renowned scientist and inventor Dr. Benton Quest was dealt a tragic blow yesterday when his son, Jonathan, was killed in an accident in their home. Details are scarce, but it appears that Dr. Quest's son and another boy staying with the family were killed when they fell from a cliff on the Quest property. Coast Guard and search and rescue teams continue to comb the coastline in an attempt to locate the bodies of the two boys."

Jonny stared numbly at the screen, his mind refusing to process the information. Dead? Did they just say he was dead?

"But . . . but . . . that's not right. We're not dead! How can they say that?" Brandon asked, bewildered.

"The security cameras," Jonny breathed. "They must have recorded us falling off the cliff . . . but we were never close enough to get picked up again, once we got down." Suddenly, Jonny scrambled for the phone, dialing frantically. "I've got to reach my dad!" The phone beeped at him again. He tried a second time . . . and a third . . . always with the same result. "They've shut it down . . . that's why we can't get through!" He began to struggle, trying to get out of bed. The doctor and nurse jumped forward, pressing him back down.

"Whoa, where are you going?! You can't get up," the doctor reprimanded him.

"I gotta go home! My dad thinks I'm dead . . ."

"You can not get out of bed."

"But my dad . . ."

"We'll just have to keep trying to reach him. That's all we can do."

Jonny ran his hand through his hair, thinking desperately. Suddenly, he said, "A computer! I need a computer."

"Now, son . . ." Charles Simmons began, but Jonny interrupted him.

"No! I need a computer . . . with a modem." He turned to the doctor in desperation. "Please! I gotta reach my dad. I can get in through IRIS if you can get me a computer."

Brandon jumped in, saying, "He can . . . really!"

The doctor thought about it for a minute, then turned to the nurse and said, "Go get my laptop. It's in my office. And be sure you bring the telephone cord that's attached to it."

As they waited for the nurse to return, Jonny fidgeted. How could he have been so stupid? Of course the security cameras filmed their fall from the cliff. He should have realized that from the beginning. They could have at least called from the airport to let his dad know they were okay. Jumping in without thinking about the consequences, again, Quest, he thought bitterly.

As though reading his mind, Brandon grabbed his good arm and shook it. "This isn't your fault, Jonny. It's mine. I never should have come to your house in the first place. I should have done what my mom told me to do and just stayed at home."

Jonny hugged the boy fiercely and replied, "No, Brandon. You did exactly right. And I would expect you to do the same thing if you found yourself in that situation again. You understand me?" Jonny looked up at Charles Simmons. "Has he told you why he's here?"

Charles shook his head. "No. I haven't been able to get anything out of him. He's been too worried about you. But I take it Alicia's up to something." He stopped, but then added bitterly, "She always is."

"My dad got temporary custody of Brandon, but it looked like the courts were going to return him to her again. I couldn't let that happen. So we ran . . . and came here."

"God, what did she do? I tried everything I could think of to get custody of him when we divorced. Not only did she get full custody, she even got a restraining order that forbid me from getting anywhere near him. This morning was the first time I've seen him since the divorce became final."

Jonny stared at the older man in amazement. "How did she do that? It was like pulling teeth to get the courts to agree to take him away from her because she was his 'natural parent' . . . even temporarily. How could she have convinced them to prohibit you from seeing him? You're his natural parent, too."

Charles laughed bitterly and turned away. Brandon sat silently, watching his father with huge eyes. Sue Simmons, who had slipped quietly into the room shortly before, crossed to the boy, and put her arm around him protectively. Finally, when she realized her husband couldn't bring himself to answer, she replied, "She got up in court and lied . . . claimed he beat Brandon with belts and terrorized both of them with fits of rage. She claimed they were both afraid for their lives. She even got several people to come into court and confirm what she was saying. Evidently, she must have been really convincing, because the judge believed everything she said and forbid Charles from ever coming near his son again." She looked from her husband to Brandon. She stroked the boy's hair gently, and said to him, "It almost killed him. He missed you so much."

"But Daddy never did anything like that!" Brandon protested. "Mom was the one who would scream and yell and break things. I was never afraid of Daddy!"

Charles Simmons whirled and stared at his son, anger flaring in his eyes as he reached and caught the boy in his arms. "She hasn't been hitting you, has she? I swear, if she has . . ."

"No, Daddy," Brandon interrupted him. "She didn't hurt me. Really she didn't."

Charles looked over his son's head at Jonny, wordlessly asking him for the truth. "As far as I know, Mr. Simmons, she never hit him. But in my opinion, what she's been doing has hurt him just as much as any physical abuse." Jonny proceeded to tell him about what had happened since he first met Brandon several months before. As Jonny talked, Charles set Brandon back down on the floor and moved to stare out of the hospital window. He was silent for a long time after Jonny finished. Finally, he turned and looked at his son.

"Brandon, I don't know what to say. I didn't know about any of this. I'm so sorry . . ."

Brandon ran to his father, who picked him up again and hugged him fiercely. "It's okay, Daddy. It's not your fault. I must have . . ."

"Don't even think that!" Charles said sharply, anticipating what his son was about to say. "You didn't do anything to cause this. You understand me? I don't know why your mother does the things she does, but it's not because of anything you did. I promise you." Charles looked over at Jonny. "He can't go back there. I won't allow her near him again."

Jonny nodded. "I know. That's why I brought him here. She was snowing the judge again. And my dad will help . . ." With that comment, he started to get out of bed again. "I gotta go home! Please . . . "

At that instant, the nurse came in with the laptop and she handed it to Jonny. He turned it on, as the doctor connected the cable to the telephone jack. Charles Simmons set Brandon back on the floor, and the boy crossed to the bed, as Jonny waited impatiently for the system to connect to the internet. He worked silently for a few minutes before uttering a small sound of satisfaction.

"Quest mainframe is still up!" He frowned suddenly. "Looks like there's some kind of dedicated search routine running. IRIS is ignoring my attempts to access the communication modules."

"IRIS?" the doctor asked.

"Dr. Quest's computer system. She's pretty cool," Brandon replied absently, leaning over and checking out the screen. "Maybe Hadji or Jessie is out on IRC," he suggested.

Jonny shook his head. "Can't be. This kind of search uses so much memory and processing time that IRIS shuts down all non-essential processes." He stared intently at the data scrolling by on the screen. "This is a search for us . . . or at least for our names. Look," he pointed at the screen, "all of these entries have some aspect of our names in them." Jonny looked at Brandon. "Someone at home isn't convinced we're dead. They're searching for a trace of us." He stared at the scrolling data again. "This looks like the kind of search Hadji would run." Slowly, he started to grin. "Hadji's home!"

Jonny started working at the keyboard, but stopped almost immediately in frustration. "I can't do this one-handed! Brandon, take the keyboard. I need to for you type what I tell you." Brandon climbed back up onto the bed and settled cross-legged beside Jonny, taking the computer into his lap.

"Okay. What do we do?"

"If we disrupt the search, IRIS will notify Hadji that it's being interrupted and ask him to confirm the abort. That will get him to a computer terminal. He'll ask why it's being aborted. Trust me . . . that's just what he'll do. And when he does, we'll flash a message on the screen that will get him to activate the communication modules. Once that's done, we can talk directly to them." Jonny looked up at the doctor. "I don't suppose you have any vid software on here?"

"Vid software?" the man asked in confusion.

"Software that let's you see and talk to someone on the other end . . . like a telephone with pictures," Brandon supplied promptly. Charles stared at his son in amazement, and Jonny grinned at the boy proudly.

"I'm gonna turn you into a computer wiz yet." Jonny looked at the doctor questioningly, and the man shook his head.

"The system's new and doesn't have much on it."

"You care if I load it?"

"Go ahead. I have the feeling I couldn't stop you if I tried."

Jonny grinned. "Thanks. Okay, Brandon. We attract Hadji's attention, get him to download the vid software, and then we can talk to my dad. You ready?"

"Let's do it," Brandon replied enthusiastically.

***

Hadji sat in the family room, staring into the fire and brooding. The search he had initiated should almost be complete, and he dreaded to see the results. Some part of him simply wouldn't let go of the idea that Jonny was still alive. If this search didn't produce anything he wasn't sure what he would do next. All he did know for certain was that he wouldn't stop looking. He couldn't. He hadn't told anyone about the computer search. They would think he was crazy. Or else, they would get their hopes up, and he wasn't prepared to do that until he had some kind of proof.

Hadji looked up as Donald Henson walked into the room and sat down. He didn't look any happier than Hadji felt.

"You still have been unable to locate Alicia Simmons?"

"No. The woman and her friends have completely disappeared." Henson sighed in frustration. "You would think that with the beating the two with the bats took, they would at least have turned up in a hospital."

Hadji shook his head. "IRIS is programmed to defend . . . not to damage. She only uses deadly force when absolutely necessary. They all ran quickly enough when IRIS hit the first two with stun rays. They would have recovered without any ill effects. I would imagine they have come to realize that they have gone too far and will be wanted by the law. They are hiding."

"We'll find them," Henson said grimly. "One way or the other, we'll find them. That woman is dangerous. It's just tragic that we didn't find out how dangerous until it was too late."

Before Hadji had a chance to reply, a soft chime sounded and IRIS said, "PRIORITY SEARCH HAS BEEN INTERRUPTED. PLEASE CONFIRM ABORT PROCESS."

Hadji rose, frowning. Now, what caused that, he wondered. Sitting down at the console, he said quietly, "Define cause of interruption."

Two thousand miles away, Jonny smacked Brandon's leg gleefully and crowed, "I told you he'd ask why! Now, send this message . . ."

Back in Maine, before IRIS could respond, the screen on Hadji's console went blank and a message popped up. He stared at it with disbelief and slowly dawning hope.

Boy, am I glad our play cave still exists! Download the vid software and sound drivers to the source of this message, would ya? I can't get through on the phone.

"He is alive," Hadji whispered, staring at the monitor. Suddenly, he threw his head back, and, laughing joyously, he shouted, "HE IS ALIVE!!!!!" IRIS, download the vid software and sound drivers . . . and HURRY!" He began typing frantically, as he yelled at the top of his lungs, "FATHER . . . JESSIE . . . COME DOWN HERE . . . JONNY IS ALIVE!!!!!"

In Denver, a message flashed on the screen.

Where ARE you, you son of a !@#$!@#$%$? (The software is on its way . . .)

Jonny laughed again, then leaned back, suddenly exhausted. Brandon watched the screen intently for a minute and then reported, "Download's done."

"Well, install it. You know how." Brandon worked for a few minutes, and then shut the computer down. His father made a soft sound of protest, but Brandon grinned at him. "It's okay, Dad. I just gotta reboot it so the software will work."

"Where did you learn all of this?" his father asked, amazed.

"Jonny taught me."

"It seems that Jonny has done a great deal for you," his father commented softly, looking at the exhausted, pain-worn young man lying beside his son in the hospital bed. The computer whirred and beeped softly and, suddenly, a familiar voice filled the room.

"Jonny, are you there? Father is on his way. Can you hear me? Brandon? Is that you?"

"Hi, Hadji. Yeah, it's me. Hang on a sec and I'll give the computer to Jonny." Brandon shifted the laptop carefully into Jonny's lap.

Jonny smiled wearily at the computer screen and said, "Hi, Hadj. Good to see you."

"Good to see me? Where are you?! We thought you were both dead. How . . . What . . ." Words finally failed him, and Jonny laughed ruefully.

"It's a long story, believe me. Is Dad there? He must be half-crazy. We've been trying to get through since mid-afternoon, but the phone has been down."

"Yes. We had to shut them down because the reporters got the private numbers. They have been driving us crazy. Hang on, here is Father . . ."

Jonny blinked, as Hadji's reference registered. Father? When did Hadji start that? But before he could comment, Hadji was replaced on the screen by his father. "Jonny? Jonny, is it really you? Are you all right? Where are you? What happened? We all thought you were . . ." At that, he choked up and couldn't finish.

"I know. I know, Dad. I'm really sorry. Brandon has been trying to call but he couldn't reach you. I just woke up and saw the news story. I had to borrow a laptop to get through."

"Jonathan Benton Quest, what the HELL are you doing? How could you . . ." He sputtered to a halt, finally taking a close look at his son. Alarm quickly replaced anger, as he realized that something was definitely not right. "Jonny, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" He looked at the screen more closely. "Where are you? A hospital?"

Jonny sighed. "Yeah. I hate hospitals," he said plaintively.

Before Benton could respond, a flurry of voices and activity on his end interrupted him. He moved quickly out of the chair and was immediately replaced by Jessie. The two young people stared at each other silently for a long moment. Slowly, Jessie reached out and touched the computer screen. "Is this real? You're alive?"

Jonny reached out to her, touching the screen in front of him. He whispered softly to her, "Don't cry, Jess. I can't stand it when you cry. It's okay." He cleared his throat with difficulty. "You don't have to worry about me. I'm fine. I didn't even know you were home."

"Didn't know I was HOME???? Your father calls to tell us that you're DEAD, and you think we're gonna stay in some god-forsaken, shithole of a jungle and leave him here all by himself?? You heartless son of . . ."

In the background, Jonny could hear both Race and Estella scolding their daughter, while Hadji and Benton just laughed.

"Okay, okay, I got it . . ." He started to sit up straighter, but the movement sent a mind-numbing flash of pain through his shoulder and down his arm. He gasped, as the world swam, and his vision turned dark around the edges. He fell back against the bed, breathing heavily.

Dimly, he heard his father's exclamation of distress and Jessie's urgent questions. Brandon snatched the computer out of his hands and gave it to the doctor, before sliding down and standing beside the bed, in concern. Fragments of their conversation filtered into his fogged mind.

" . . . hurt . . . torn cartilage . . . Jonny . . . shoulder . . . surgery . . . on our way . . . authorization . . . allergies . . ."

Jonny didn't care any more. His family was coming, Brandon was safe, and he was in such pain he just wanted to escape. Relaxing, he welcomed the blackness that rapidly moved in to engulf him.

***

"WHERE ARE YOU, JONNY?!?" Jessie shrieked desperately. Jonny disappeared from the screen, as the laptop was passed to someone none of them knew.

"Dr. Quest? I'm Dr. Ramsey, head of Orthopedic Surgery here at the University Hospital in Denver. Your son has been hurt. He has torn cartilage and ligaments in his left shoulder, and the injuries appear to be severe. We need to do surgery to determine the extent of the damage and to repair it."

"We're on our way. Is there any way it can wait until we get there?"

"I would advise against it. Judging by what Brandon Simmons tells me, your son's injury occurred almost 36 hours ago, and he has used the shoulder and stressed it severely ever since. I honestly can't understand how he is still conscious at all, considering the level of pain he is suffering. He's passed out at least three times since they brought him in. We've had him on painkillers, but that's not dealing with the problem. The longer we wait, the worse things are going to get."

Reluctantly, Benton agreed. "All right, if it's that urgent, go ahead. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I have your authorization to proceed, then?"

"Yes."

"Does he have any allergies I need to be aware of?"

"No."

"Fine. We've got an operating theater available and he is ready to go. You're coming from Maine? Then if all goes well, the surgery should be over and he should be conscious, or close to it, by the time you get here."

In the distance, Benton suddenly heard the high whine of a warming jet engine.

"Let's go, Benton!" Race called urgently. "That's Jessie, and she isn't going to wait. If we don't get out there, she'll leave without us!"

"We're leaving right now," he told Dr. Ramsey. "I'll see you in four or five hours. IRIS," he said, addressing the computer, "shut down the link and secure the Compound. I don't know when we'll be back."

"ACKNOWLEDGED."

"Let's go, Don." Benton said to the judge, who had stood quietly in the background as everything else had occurred. "I think you need to come along. My son owes you an explanation."

Henson nodded, as both men ran for the waiting jet.