CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fear rushed through the survivors of the Cassandra and the Grand Illusion, the fear in the presence of several town cars driven by dark suited men with guns. Even moving out of Delaware did not save the group from their relentless predecessors. And although some had moved with the pickers to South Carolina and Florida, that did not save them.
The pursuers were returning and happened to come upon the area where Jarold, Ed, and Mrs. Reichart lived. The later was walking down the road to pick up her daughter when they grabbed her. Ed was rummaging behind the general store when someone drove up, two men with guns got out, and snatched him. They left his bag on the dirt and sped away in the dirt.
Jarold hearing the commotion from the gas station washroom, quickly zipped up his pants, and ran outside just in time to see a black car speed towards him, and a warning shot.
Quickly he ran back to his hut, hoping to beat the black sedan that drove up the small dirt road. He almost tripped over the small toy, picked it up, and threw it towards the tall grass.
His wife ran out, followed by Charles and Margaret.. "What is it father?" asked the boy.
Bending down his father picked up the boy and hollered to Emilie, "They grabbed Ed and Mrs. Reichart,"
"No!" Her hands flew to her face and her eyes widened.
"Look," he said, "we have to save the children. Margaret won't be going home to her mother anymore. Grab what you can and give it to the children."
"Why? Don't we need it ourselves?"
Jarold shook his head. "We won't live to enjoy it. I heard the others are dead."
"Dead?" Her hands worked swiftly, taking several hard biscuits and putting them in a handkerchief, putting a torn bible in a case along with the rosary, writing a note in case the good sisters of the nearest orphanage wanted to know why they had to abandon the children. It was not much, but that was all she had. She hugged the children. "Your mother's with the Virgin," she said to Margaret, "and I might not be around any longer. Go to the Good Sisters. They'll know what to do."
"It's the black car, isn't it mother? Where's my friend?" asked Charles.
"They grabbed him as well," said his father, "You come from a good family but no one knows about us here and because of that, evil men are after us. You are different, stronger,. and more intelligent than us. You were to save us from this evil man, but he is gone now. And now other evil men want to use your brains to do bad things."
"Jarold," said his wife, "Why tell him that? He doesn't understand."
"Yes he does. Now son, you and Margaret so to the sisters. And may the Blessed Virgin protect you." He hugged his strange little son, hustled them around the back, returned to the hut and waited.
It did not take long.
The car drove him and his wife up to a large building that seemed to stretch for miles. Burly men in black suits hustled them out. They stumbled, blindfolded, as their captors forced them to climb up a stone steps, and along a hallway to an elevator that seemed to go for miles below.
When they reached the bottom, it was dark and a man asked them if they were all right.
"Of course, we're not all right," snapped Jarold.
"Name." He tore off the blindfold.
There was silence.
"No matter Jarold, we don't need it. We brought you here for a reason. We heard that you and your-ah wife are rather unusual. In the interest of science, perhaps you could show us how unusual you are." He snarled.
Now the passengers had agreed to hide the ability of their children from those around them, even if it meant their death and Jarold knew that he was looking into the eyes of his executioners, but not when nor where it would occur. He hoped that the children would be able to get away.
They wanted him to perform a series of tests, not the simple ones, but rather complicated examinations. The first one was to duplicate the moves of a Chess master and since Jarold had played chess with confidence, he passed this one. His wife, he heard, failed. When he failed to see her, he suspected they had killed her, but he still hoped. Now he attempted the second test, one doing a mathematical formula, and one that he was also confident he could pass and did.
Unknown to him, Mr. Parker observed the proceedings from a small window that looked down. "He's passed the first two tests," he told the man besides him.
"So did the others. He doesn't know it, but we gave his wife two different tests. Women know cooking and sewing. We had her duplicate a dish, and gave her swaths of material to distinguish between them, material very similar. She passed those. Now wait. We're going to give both a more complicated scientific equation. He nodded to the man below who put several blocks, triangle shaped pieces, and circular pieces on the table. "It looks easy, but only a genius could put these together."
"What is the purpose of this?"
"Mr. Parker, it is the symbols of the planets. He has to construct the model so that they appear on all four sides and we have estimated that a genius will take ten minutes." He smiled. "No one has done that."
"And if he fails?"
"We're going to examine his blood and see if there is a different component than the others. If there is, we'll know he is faking. If there is not, we'll know, as you suspect, it is the children. They're four years old now, sir. If they are, what do you want us to do? And what about the others here?"
"Find them. Nigel is working on a formula that will quiet them down and yet regain their intelligence. Then they will be obedient minions like good little boys and girls."
Ten minutes had passed. The man came over to Jarold and sneered. "Hard isn't it?"
Suddenly he stabbed Jarold in his arm.
"What's that for?"
"I felt like it."
Jarold tried to get up but couldn't. His legs were in irons. He hoped Charles and Margaret were safe with the Nuns.
Twenty minutes had passed and still he sat, wondering what would become of him and his wife. He did not know whether it was day or night. Artificial light illuminated the place, and the table in front of him was bare, the chair he sat on cold. He looked at the floor, seeing nothing but concrete painted a dull gray color. His stomach growled for he had not eaten since last night. He had no conception of time.
The man who accosted him came over accompanied by two others who looked just as brutal. One held a cigarette in his nicotine stained fingers. He bent closer, his breath smelling of garlic. "Now where are your children?"
"I have no children."
"The ones we saw running into the brush. We tried to catch them, but they were too fast."
"The neighbors. My wife babysits."
"I questioned your neighbors. None of their kids looks like yours. Now where are the children?" He burned Jarold on his chest. "Tell us quickly or I'll lower it and you'll be a soprano for the rest of your life."
For over an hour, he tormented him, burning him with cigarettes, splashing him with ice- cold water, pressing his fingers in a vice, but still Jarold refused. He prayed to the Virgin that the children would remain free.
Finally, they tossed him in a windowless room, saying, "We're done with you," and locked the door. He fell asleep. When he awoke, he felt dry and hollered, "Are you going to release me soon?"
There was no answer and it was getting rather stuffy. He started to look around him and then gasped. His wife was there, half dazed.
"Emilie," he said, "are you all right?"
"Yes. How long have we been here?"
"I fell asleep. Must have been eight hours at least."
"They should release us soon."
"Three days without water and you die."
"What did you say?"
"I was thinking of the time it took to die. I'll try the door again:" He tried rattling it, but got no reply. He also hollered, but no one screamed for him to shut up. For the next two hours, he tried, gradually getting thirsty and the hollow in his stomach becoming unbearable.
At last he realized what was going on. They had locked him and Emilie in to die and the air was getting staler. He laid as close to the door as possible, keeping silent while he tried to get his fingers through the locks or the hinges. By now, Emilie was unconscious, slumped on the concrete floor. Finally, he too slumped, his fingers still on the door, and by the next day, when Nigel opened it, he dragged out the two corpses.
"Bury them on the grounds," ordered Parker.
"Right sir."
Fear rushed through the survivors of the Cassandra and the Grand Illusion, the fear in the presence of several town cars driven by dark suited men with guns. Even moving out of Delaware did not save the group from their relentless predecessors. And although some had moved with the pickers to South Carolina and Florida, that did not save them.
The pursuers were returning and happened to come upon the area where Jarold, Ed, and Mrs. Reichart lived. The later was walking down the road to pick up her daughter when they grabbed her. Ed was rummaging behind the general store when someone drove up, two men with guns got out, and snatched him. They left his bag on the dirt and sped away in the dirt.
Jarold hearing the commotion from the gas station washroom, quickly zipped up his pants, and ran outside just in time to see a black car speed towards him, and a warning shot.
Quickly he ran back to his hut, hoping to beat the black sedan that drove up the small dirt road. He almost tripped over the small toy, picked it up, and threw it towards the tall grass.
His wife ran out, followed by Charles and Margaret.. "What is it father?" asked the boy.
Bending down his father picked up the boy and hollered to Emilie, "They grabbed Ed and Mrs. Reichart,"
"No!" Her hands flew to her face and her eyes widened.
"Look," he said, "we have to save the children. Margaret won't be going home to her mother anymore. Grab what you can and give it to the children."
"Why? Don't we need it ourselves?"
Jarold shook his head. "We won't live to enjoy it. I heard the others are dead."
"Dead?" Her hands worked swiftly, taking several hard biscuits and putting them in a handkerchief, putting a torn bible in a case along with the rosary, writing a note in case the good sisters of the nearest orphanage wanted to know why they had to abandon the children. It was not much, but that was all she had. She hugged the children. "Your mother's with the Virgin," she said to Margaret, "and I might not be around any longer. Go to the Good Sisters. They'll know what to do."
"It's the black car, isn't it mother? Where's my friend?" asked Charles.
"They grabbed him as well," said his father, "You come from a good family but no one knows about us here and because of that, evil men are after us. You are different, stronger,. and more intelligent than us. You were to save us from this evil man, but he is gone now. And now other evil men want to use your brains to do bad things."
"Jarold," said his wife, "Why tell him that? He doesn't understand."
"Yes he does. Now son, you and Margaret so to the sisters. And may the Blessed Virgin protect you." He hugged his strange little son, hustled them around the back, returned to the hut and waited.
It did not take long.
The car drove him and his wife up to a large building that seemed to stretch for miles. Burly men in black suits hustled them out. They stumbled, blindfolded, as their captors forced them to climb up a stone steps, and along a hallway to an elevator that seemed to go for miles below.
When they reached the bottom, it was dark and a man asked them if they were all right.
"Of course, we're not all right," snapped Jarold.
"Name." He tore off the blindfold.
There was silence.
"No matter Jarold, we don't need it. We brought you here for a reason. We heard that you and your-ah wife are rather unusual. In the interest of science, perhaps you could show us how unusual you are." He snarled.
Now the passengers had agreed to hide the ability of their children from those around them, even if it meant their death and Jarold knew that he was looking into the eyes of his executioners, but not when nor where it would occur. He hoped that the children would be able to get away.
They wanted him to perform a series of tests, not the simple ones, but rather complicated examinations. The first one was to duplicate the moves of a Chess master and since Jarold had played chess with confidence, he passed this one. His wife, he heard, failed. When he failed to see her, he suspected they had killed her, but he still hoped. Now he attempted the second test, one doing a mathematical formula, and one that he was also confident he could pass and did.
Unknown to him, Mr. Parker observed the proceedings from a small window that looked down. "He's passed the first two tests," he told the man besides him.
"So did the others. He doesn't know it, but we gave his wife two different tests. Women know cooking and sewing. We had her duplicate a dish, and gave her swaths of material to distinguish between them, material very similar. She passed those. Now wait. We're going to give both a more complicated scientific equation. He nodded to the man below who put several blocks, triangle shaped pieces, and circular pieces on the table. "It looks easy, but only a genius could put these together."
"What is the purpose of this?"
"Mr. Parker, it is the symbols of the planets. He has to construct the model so that they appear on all four sides and we have estimated that a genius will take ten minutes." He smiled. "No one has done that."
"And if he fails?"
"We're going to examine his blood and see if there is a different component than the others. If there is, we'll know he is faking. If there is not, we'll know, as you suspect, it is the children. They're four years old now, sir. If they are, what do you want us to do? And what about the others here?"
"Find them. Nigel is working on a formula that will quiet them down and yet regain their intelligence. Then they will be obedient minions like good little boys and girls."
Ten minutes had passed. The man came over to Jarold and sneered. "Hard isn't it?"
Suddenly he stabbed Jarold in his arm.
"What's that for?"
"I felt like it."
Jarold tried to get up but couldn't. His legs were in irons. He hoped Charles and Margaret were safe with the Nuns.
Twenty minutes had passed and still he sat, wondering what would become of him and his wife. He did not know whether it was day or night. Artificial light illuminated the place, and the table in front of him was bare, the chair he sat on cold. He looked at the floor, seeing nothing but concrete painted a dull gray color. His stomach growled for he had not eaten since last night. He had no conception of time.
The man who accosted him came over accompanied by two others who looked just as brutal. One held a cigarette in his nicotine stained fingers. He bent closer, his breath smelling of garlic. "Now where are your children?"
"I have no children."
"The ones we saw running into the brush. We tried to catch them, but they were too fast."
"The neighbors. My wife babysits."
"I questioned your neighbors. None of their kids looks like yours. Now where are the children?" He burned Jarold on his chest. "Tell us quickly or I'll lower it and you'll be a soprano for the rest of your life."
For over an hour, he tormented him, burning him with cigarettes, splashing him with ice- cold water, pressing his fingers in a vice, but still Jarold refused. He prayed to the Virgin that the children would remain free.
Finally, they tossed him in a windowless room, saying, "We're done with you," and locked the door. He fell asleep. When he awoke, he felt dry and hollered, "Are you going to release me soon?"
There was no answer and it was getting rather stuffy. He started to look around him and then gasped. His wife was there, half dazed.
"Emilie," he said, "are you all right?"
"Yes. How long have we been here?"
"I fell asleep. Must have been eight hours at least."
"They should release us soon."
"Three days without water and you die."
"What did you say?"
"I was thinking of the time it took to die. I'll try the door again:" He tried rattling it, but got no reply. He also hollered, but no one screamed for him to shut up. For the next two hours, he tried, gradually getting thirsty and the hollow in his stomach becoming unbearable.
At last he realized what was going on. They had locked him and Emilie in to die and the air was getting staler. He laid as close to the door as possible, keeping silent while he tried to get his fingers through the locks or the hinges. By now, Emilie was unconscious, slumped on the concrete floor. Finally, he too slumped, his fingers still on the door, and by the next day, when Nigel opened it, he dragged out the two corpses.
"Bury them on the grounds," ordered Parker.
"Right sir."