Chapter 19: Separation Anxiety

Benton was relieved. Morgan had met them at the door that morning accompanied by Chris. He had escorted them to the lab, where a deeply cushioned armchair had been placed in a corner. After instructing Benton to get to work, Morgan had proceeded to settle Jonny in the chair and make sure he was comfortable.

"I'll be back to check on you two around lunchtime," Morgan had said before he left.

Benton had worked steadily all morning, making consistent progress. This miniaturization problem wasn't really complicated, it just required some effort. Jonny was reading one of the books that Morgan had left for him, something about the nature of the universe. He kept piping up with odd, obscure questions that Benton answered bemusedly.

For example, "Why does time go slower at the top of a water tower than at the bottom?" Jonny asked at one point.

Benton paused and looked up. "It's got to do with relative speed."

"How come?"

Pursing his lips, he said, "Well, it's like a wheel. The axle is moving slower than the rim."

"But why does time go slower when you're going faster?"

"Well, that's been hotly debated, and no one knows for sure."

"Oh. Are you going to find out?"

Benton was amused by his son's vote of confidence. "Maybe, maybe not. We'll see." Jonny had then returned to his reading.

Around 11:30, Benton was looking forward to the arrival of their lunch. His stomach was rumbling, and if he was hungry, the boy with the hollow leg undoubtedly was. Between his focus on his work and Jonny's focus on his reading, the room was very quiet, so when the door suddenly slammed open it was particularly loud in the silence.

Benton and Jonny both looked up and froze in postures of horror. Crandall stood there, Marcus behind him, Chris hovering in the background looking alarmed. For a moment no one moved, and it was like some kind of bizarre tableau. Then Crandall walked into the room. "Good morning, Dr. Quest," he said. "How are you doing today?" Marcus shut the door with Chris on the outside.

Benton's voice wouldn't work. He opened his mouth but no words would emerge. Crandall strode over to him, looking critically at the computer modeling Benton was doing. "Are you getting your work done? I suppose Morgan's been very soft with you."

"Good morning," Benton finally managed to say, though even to him his voice sounded strained. "I'm making fair progress, I'd say."

"I suppose," Crandall said slowly, walking around behind him, seeming to be looking at his notes. Suddenly, Benton found himself on his knees with Crandall's hand twisting his collar tightly around his neck. What was the man up to? Then his mouth went dry as he felt the cold circle of a gun barrel against his temple and heard a distinct click.

There was a loud scream from Jonny, who jumped up and ran over toward him. A series of four more clicks sounded as the man repeatedly squeezed the trigger, and Benton felt his stomach turn over. Jonny seemed to be moving in slow motion, and, though Benton wanted to wave him back, he couldn't bring himself to move. Crandall swung the hand holding the gun and knocked Jonny backwards onto the floor. Still holding Benton by the collar, Crandall said, "The board of directors may think that your father is vitally important, young Jonathon, but that doesn't mean that I do."

Jonny struggled up to a sitting position and stared at his father in shocked disbelief. He was gripping his left arm with his right hand, his bruised face contorted by pain and terror. The barrel returned to Benton's head and he gritted his teeth, certain that this time there would be a bullet. Jonny would be alone with this bastard, his callous thug and his father's cooling body. But there was a final click, then Crandall released Benton with a shove that sent him forward toward the floor. He caught himself and started to turn on Crandall, but he heard the cocking of a semi-automatic and turned his head to see Marcus pointing his gun at Jonny, who didn't even seem to have noticed him.

"Next time, Jonathon," Crandall said, "there will be a round in the chamber."

Jonny's eyes were wide and staring, and Benton wasn't even sure he'd heard. He scrambled over to him on his hands and knees, afraid to put his arms around his son for fear of hurting him further. What in the hell was going on here? If this was a good cop, bad cop ploy, it was purposeless. He was already working, had already given suggestions for the other projects. Crandall was out of control, and Benton had no way to stop him.

The door slammed open again, and Jonny started, letting out a whimper of pain. "Crandall, you braying jackass!" Morgan exclaimed. "What the devil do you think you're doing?" Morgan stood in the doorway with Chris behind him. He had a phone in one hand and he looked furious.

Jonny hitched himself over to his father and leaned against him, still clutching his arm, tears streaming down his face. Benton gingerly draped an arm around his son's shoulders, watching the face off. Marcus stood by the door, face impassive.

"Get out, Morgan!" Crandall commanded, his face contorted in a mask of rage. Benton prayed they'd not be left alone with him after this challenge to his authority. There would be no telling what he'd do. "The board cleared me and put me back in charge."

"Not anymore you're not," Morgan said with a tight, unfriendly smile. He held out the phone in his hand. "This is for you."

Looking deeply suspicious, Crandall took the phone and said, "Crandall here."

Benton could hear an angry voice on the other end, but he couldn't hear what was being said. Crandall's face first turned a beet red, then a pasty white. When he disconnected, Morgan took his arm and started to escort him from the room, but he flailed out and Morgan dodged the gun, staring at it in shock. "I think, Mr. Crandall, that all things considered it would be better if you left peaceably."

Crandall turned and threw the gun on the floor, where it slid to land near Jonny's feet. Despite his pain, despite his injuries, Jonny flinched back and tried to move away from the weapon. Benton kicked it out of sight under one of the laboratory tables.

Morgan led Crandall out where there were two men Benton had never seen waiting to take him away. Then Morgan turned to Marcus. "I believe that there is still an active order of suspension against you. Please return to your quarters."

For a moment, Marcus looked like he wanted to argue, but then he clicked his heels together and left. Chris came in and stood by the door.

Benton looked up at Morgan. "Well, what now?" he asked bitterly.

Morgan's face creased with sympathy, and he said, "Now we get your son some medical attention." Patricia showed up as he spoke, with a gurney and a kindly looking old man. "This is Dr. Jordan. He'll look after Jonny –"

As the old doctor started toward Jonny, however, he tried to slide away again. Dr. Jordan stopped immediately. Patricia stepped forward. "Jonny, can I help you up? We need to get a look at your arm, and we need to X-Ray your ribs."

Jonny looked up at her. His eyes were still streaming and he didn't say anything. Benton shook his head at Patricia and turned to pick his son up. Jonny made a quickly stifled sound of pain as Benton lifted him, and clung to him when he put him down on the gurney. "I won't leave you, Jonny," Benton said, stroking his hair. "I won't leave you." They made the short trip to the infirmary, and Benton continued to stroke Jonny's hair and to tell him that he wouldn't leave him. Patricia and Dr. Jordan conferred, and then Patricia came over to Jonny's side carrying a syringe.

Without stopping his reassurances, Benton lifted Jonny's sleeve so she had a clear shot to his upper arm. She smiled gratefully and wiped the antiseptic on Jonny's arm. He looked over at her, eyes wide, but this time, when he saw who it was, he seemed to calm a bit. She gave him the shot, then stroked his cheek. "We'll take good care of you, Jonny."

Benton watched Jonny's eyelids droop as the drug took effect, but he didn't stop stroking his hair even when it became obvious that Jonny was out. However, he suddenly became aware of the world around him. Morgan stood at the foot of the gurney, looking concernedly down at Jonny.

"You people are monsters," Benton said quietly, and Morgan flinched.

"What happened in there, Dr. Quest?"

"Take a guess," Benton snapped, not taking his eyes from Jonny's face.

"Please, tell me. I need to know."

"Crandall decided that he would frighten my son. So he put a revolver to my head and pulled the trigger. Six times."

Patricia let out a horrified sound, and Morgan just stared at him, round-eyed, shaking his head, seeming appalled. Benton didn't know whether he could believe him or not. They'd had no warning that Crandall was returning, none whatsoever.

Dr. Jordan walked over and gently checked Jonny's eyes. "Dr. Quest, I'm going to have to take his shirt off." His voice was a low, softly British rumble.

Benton nodded, and helped as much as he could.

"How did the two of you wind up on the floor?"

Benton sighed, and turned to face Morgan. "You have it on video tape, I would imagine. Why don't you just go and watch it?" Morgan didn't say anything, but he didn't leave either. Benton looked heavenward and went on. "When he ran towards me, Crandall hit him, knocked him to the floor, using the hand holding the gun."

"My God," Patricia breathed. "Poor Jonny."

"I would like to offer my most sincere –"

"I don't want an apology, Morgan!" Benton's voice was hard, but he didn't care. "I want to go home. My son has been in and out of trouble for most of his life, and he's been captured by villains repeatedly. You people are the only ones who ever truly terrified him, and the only ones who ever hurt him this badly. That makes you the worst of a bad lot."

"Crandall is an aberration. This is not how we operate."

"Oh, but it is!" Benton replied, shaking his head. "You just don't normally go this fast or this severe. But you do hurt children on purpose, and you have killed before."

"Dr. Quest –"

"Spare me your platitudes. My only concern right now is Jonny." He turned his back on Morgan and spoke to the doctor. "Is his arm broken?"

"I'm afraid so, Dr. Quest. We'll need x-rays."

Benton stayed with Jonny throughout the process, despite the fact that both Dr. Jordan and Morgan pointed out that Jonny wasn't really aware of him. "I said I would stay, and I'm going to," he said. "Unless you're going to do something drastic to make me change my mind."

Wisely, Morgan backed down at that point, and left the room.

Jonny had two cracked ribs, and a clean break of the humerus. Dr. Jordan set the arm and put a cast on it, then taped the ribs, and generally fussed in a surprisingly convincing manner. Benton watched him for a while, then asked, "How long has your family been with the corporation?"

Jordan looked up and said, "Since my children were three and five."

Benton blinked in surprise. "So you've been through this."

"I have four grandchildren." Nodding, Benton thought, Translation: don't ask me to say anything bad about the corporation. I don't want my family hurt.

Benton was silent for a moment, looking down at his son. Very quietly, he said, "At this rate, I'll never have grandchildren."

Dr. Jordan raised an eyebrow. "This won't continue," he said in an equally quiet voice. "Morgan's not lying to you, this isn't normal. He's a good man. You can believe what he tells you."

"Trust is a lot to ask after this," Benton said, gesturing at Jonny.

"I can understand that," the doctor said. "How long did it take you to realize that Crandall was a bloody lunatic?"

"When he nearly caused Jonny to bleed to death on the first night, it was a good hint." Benton glowered at no one. "Then when Dr. Pascale died, that impression was strongly confirmed."

"I understood that to be an accident."

"A conveniently timed accident," Dr. Quest said. "She told me that she was going to have Crandall removed from this project, and the next day she was dead."

Dr. Jordan tilted his head. "Oddly, most of the relevant video footage from the other facility was damaged in transit."

"Probably the recording of today's incident was next for the chopping block," Benton said. He shuddered, remembering the certainty that he was about to die, leaving Jonny alone. "I am not a violent man, but –" He broke off, shaking his head.

By this point, they had shifted Jonny onto a normal hospital bed in a room with two beds. "You are, of course, welcome to stay the night here." Benton nodded, but didn't move toward the other bed. "I would, if it were me." He glanced up at the clock. "My wife will be expecting me for dinner, so I'd best be on my way. Your dinner should arrive shortly."

Benton nodded, just glad to finally be alone with Jonny. If Race didn't get here soon, Jonny would be a wreck when he finally did come. Patricia brought him his dinner on a tray, checked on Jonny, then left, not saying much, not really looking him in the eye.

Benton watched Jonny, then finally lay down himself and tried to sleep.


Phil, Race, and the Special Forces team were in the air, on their way to an island northeast of New Zealand, when Race's cell phone rang abruptly. Phil looked at him, and Race pulled the phone out and answered it. "Where are you people?" demanded a familiar voice.

"Patricia?" he asked.

"Have you moved my mother? She doesn't answer her phone."

"She has been moved. She's safe."

There was a pause, and then she said, "You have to find this place soon."

Race was alarmed by the slightly frantic tone of her voice. "What's happened? What's changed?"

"Crandall broke Jonny's arm today. He's very dopey, but Crandall scared him and Dr. Quest half to death. He needs to be someplace where he feels safe."

"I see. We're working on it, Patricia."

"Hurry. I have to go."

Race listened to the dead air at the other end of the phone line, then turned off the phone and stuck it in his pocket.

"What did she say?"

"Only that we have to get there soon and that Crandall broke Jonny's arm today." Phil's lips tightened. "Oh, and he's doped up, on pain meds, I'd guess."

"Did she say anything about Benton?"

"Yeah, that Crandall scared him and Jonny half to death." Before Phil could ask the next question, Race shook his head. "No, she didn't say how."

"It could all be a set up," Phil said.

"She put her mother into our hands," Race said. "With the mindset the corporation breeds, I don't think she'd have done that if she was lying."

"That's true, I suppose." All of the operatives along on this mission had seen video footage of Jonny and Dr. Quest. Recent footage, of them in Crandall's possession. It was amazing what a motivator seeing a grown man beat up on a little kid was to a group of soldiers. He heard Norton passing the update on Jonny's condition down the line of soldiers.

As they started to descend, Race hoped he was right about Patricia.


Benton woke up deep in the night to the dim lights that were left on in the infirmary. He looked to the bed next to him, and saw that it was empty, the covers thrown askew. Sitting up sharply, he looked around. Morgan came in a moment later, a guard close behind him. "Dr. Quest, you must come with me. I'm afraid we'll be leaving –"

"Where's Jonny?"

"Patricia and Chris have already taken him to the plane." Benton felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Race must be close if they were being moved suddenly like this again. But Morgan was smart to separate him from Jonny. He couldn't leave without him, not especially with Jonny in this condition.

"You son of a bitch," Benton growled.

"Let's get moving."

Benton walked along with them, hoping against hope that Race was already on the ground, that he might already even have Jonny. The corridors were empty. "We've already evacuated most of the facility. Your Mr. Bannon is an amazing fellow to have sniffed us out twice."

"You'd be wise to leave us behind," Benton commented. "He'll just sniff you out again. He's a very determined man."

"The government will stop funding his search eventually."

Not that soon, Benton reflected. Too many of the nation's security systems owed a bit of their creation to him, and what he had created, he knew how to circumvent. He didn't voice this comment, however.

They came to the stairwell that led down to the same level as the hangar, and a familiar voice shouted from the bottom of the steps. "Hold it right where you are!"

"Phil!" Benton called, but the guard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him backwards, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"Back the other way," Morgan hissed, grabbing Benton's other arm.

They dragged him away despite his struggles. He could hear Corvin behind him. "Benton? Benton!" He heard the sound of multiple feet running up the stairs as they dragged him around the corner.

A shot rang out, and Benton heard Phil cry, "Be careful, you might hit Dr. Quest!"

At that moment, a desperate plan entered Benton's mind. He stopped struggling and simply went limp all at once. The sudden burden of all his weight dragged both men to a halt, and the guard let go of his mouth. "Phil, get Jonny!" he yelled. "He's not with me!"


Race made his way through the halls with three of Norton's top guys, keeping an eye and ear out for either Jonny or Benton. His cell phone vibrated suddenly, and he reached into his pocket and turned it on. "Bannon," he said very quietly.

"Please help us!" Patricia hissed into his ear. "I know you're on the island. I've gotten us hidden away, but Chris got shot, and Jonny's unconscious, and Marcus has us pinned down." As if to corroborate her statement, he heard the sound of gunshots in the background. "I can't carry either of them any distance alone. I need your help."

"Where are you?"

She made an exasperated sound. "Where are you?"

He looked around. "I'm on the second floor and there's a sign on the wall that says 'To West Living Quarters.'"

"Bannon, what are you doing?" demanded one of the soldiers.

"Talking to the woman who's with Jonny," he hissed back. "Where are you, Patricia?"

"That's a t-intersection. Go straight, away from the living quarters. You'll pass two intersections, then take the first right."

"Okay, got it. Go on."

"Let me think. Um. . . the second left. . . and then you go straight for a really long time, till you reach a sign that says furnace room. Go that direction. You'll hear the shooting before you reach us, because Marcus is between you and where I am."

"I see. We'll be there as quick as we can." He shut the phone and tucked it away again. "This way."

"What if it's a trap, sir?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Then we're in trouble," Race said. "But there's a twelve-year-old kid counting on us."

They ran through the halls, following the directions Patricia had given them, and Race started hearing gunfire. Hang on kid, he thought. Just a few minutes more.


Morgan and the guard had managed to drag Benton back to his feet and got him around the next corner before Phil's people made it. Benton, however, wasn't giving up. They would find Jonny, he was sure of it. He stomped hard on Morgan's instep and thrust his elbow into the guard's side. Morgan let out a cry of pain, but kept dragging him onward.

Frustrated, Benton threw himself at the guard, reasoning that a rifle would be difficult to unsling and fire at close range while grappling with someone. His weight dragged his arm out of Morgan's grasp and he went down to the ground on top of the guard, punching and kicking.

Morgan bent over him, trying to drag him off and make him go onward, but Benton heard the sharp report of a rifle, and moisture hit his back and the back of his head. Morgan's hands fell away, and he landed with a thud next to them. Running footsteps approached, and Benton was able to pull away from the guard as soldiers took him into custody.

He looked down at Morgan, whose head was a bloody mess, and wished it was Crandall lying there. It seemed unfair that the halfway decent guy had died while the bastard had gotten away. Phil ran up and grabbed his shoulders.

"Are you okay, Benton?" he asked.

"I'm fine, but I don't know where Jonny is." He gestured at the dead man and said, "Morgan told me they'd taken him to the plane. The hangar's this way."

"We've already been there," Phil said, forestalling him as he started to move off. "There are two planes down there, but only one pilot. Another plane took off about ten minutes before we arrived."

Benton fell to his knees. Could he be gone already? There had been plenty of time for Jonny to have been on that plane. Had they taken his son away? Phil bent down and dragged him back to his feet. "You two, get Dr. Quest to safety."

"No!" Benton cried. "I have to find Jonny!"

"Race is on it, Benton," Phil said. "And I'll take the rest of these guys to –"

"Sir, we have a report that the child is still on the island," said one of the soldiers. Benton turned eagerly to him. "Our forces are on their way to pick him up."

"There, Benton. Now go with them. We don't want to risk you getting captured again or killed." Benton didn't want to leave, but Phil made sense. And if Race was on Jonny's trail . . . Race had never let them down before.


The gunfire had stopped shortly before they reached Patricia, and Race had dire concerns. He saw a jammed weapon that had clearly been thrown aside and heard voices ahead.

"What's going on here?" a man demanded.

"It doesn't matter, just get the boy!"

Race ran forward, launching himself through the next doorway. Patricia was struggling with an ox of a man, one of the ones who had tormented Jonny. As he paused, he saw her stab a syringe into the side of his neck, shooting its contents home.

A door slammed to his left, and with a silent apology to Penelope, he ran past her daughter and after Jonny. He could hear the three soldiers behind him, but he didn't stop to see if they were keeping up or what. He just pelted off in the direction he'd heard the villains flee in.

He flung a door open and saw them across the room, maybe twenty feet away. One of them held Jonny in his arms and the other was feverishly trying to open a door that had a number pad lock. Race skidded to a stop and brought his gun to bear. "Stop what you're doing and move away from the door."

They looked up, and the one who was working at the keypad said, "Use the kid as a shield, he won't want to risk shooting him."

Race shot the one who wasn't holding Jonny, hitting him in the shoulder, and he lurched sideways, then fell to the ground. He felt two men run up behind him, and spared a glance back to make sure they were friendly. "All right, you have a choice. You can give me the kid and give up quietly, or I can shoot you in the head and risk that you drop him."

The man's eyes widened and he said, "All right. Just don't shoot me." Race holstered his gun and walked forward to take Jonny from the man, who was, with his compatriot, quickly taken into custody. Patricia ran in a second later and said, "Oh, thank God!"

"Could you do me a favor, Patty?" he said.

She gave him an odd look and said, "What?"

"Pull the radio out of the pouch on my hip." She did. "Now, hold it up and press down that red button." She followed his instructions and he spoke. "Bannon here, Corvin do you read?"

"Corvin here."

"I've got Jonny and we've captured two hostiles."

"Good. Meet us at the rendezvous point. Benton should already be there."

Race breathed a sigh of relief. "Roger." It had been a nightmarish thought, that they might retrieve one of them without the other.

The soldiers had already radioed for back up which was arriving as he finished talking to Phil. A man with a red cross on his arm ran up and said, "Here, let me get a look at him, sir."

"We need to get to the rendezvous point," Race said.

"Do you want to risk that he might be bleeding internally?"

"He's not," Patricia said quickly. "Unless those two did something incredibly stupid and vicious in the last three minutes, he's not."

"Who are you?"

"I'm the medical assistant."

"And she's the reason we've got Jonny right now, so I think we can trust her. Let's move out."

They ran into no more resistance on their way out of the building, but they did join up with another squad that had prisoners, and one carrying a young fellow who'd been patched up a bit. Race dimly recalled seeing him on the floor near where Patricia had been fighting.

Race kept glancing down at his young charge who lay so still in his arms. His face was a brilliant yellow and green, but his lip was healing and the swelling had gone down since the images he'd seen on the video tape. However, he had a fresh-looking cast on his left arm, and his face was pale under the discoloration from the bruises.

When they arrived at their plane, Race went immediately inside, his eyes searching for Benton, who leapt to his feet when he saw Jonny. Before he could run to him, Race said, "Sit down. I'll be there in a second."

Benton subsided into his seat. "Race, you are a sight for sore eyes."

Race lay Jonny down on the stretcher that was set up next to Benton's seat, and strapped him in. Patricia checked him quickly, then sat down on the other end of the stretcher. Phil's team hadn't come in yet, so they didn't take off right away.

Benton performed his own check on his son, then turned to Patricia. "How did you get away from Chris?"

"I didn't have to," she said. "He wanted Jonny out of here as much as I did. There just wasn't anything he could say or do to help."

"Oh." Benton looked down at Jonny again, and Race could see that there wouldn't be much sense gotten out of him for a while. "Race," Benton said finally. "How is Hadji?"

"Hell, I almost forgot. Benton, here's my cell phone. He's waiting for me to call him."

"Wait until we're in the air," Corvin said, running in. "Good work everybody." The door was sealed and he sat down and strapped himself in. "Let's go."

A few minutes after take off, Corvin nodded across the aisleway to Benton. "Give Hadji a call. It'll be noisy, but he'll know what's up at least."

Race listened with pleasure as Benton attempted to convey the events to Hadji at the top of his lungs. Hadji seemed to get the gist, however, because after a moment, Benton closed the phone and handed it back. "Where are we going?" he asked Race.

"Washington," Race said. "Hadji, Jessie and Estella are all at I-1 Headquarters there."

Benton nodded. As he started drowsing, Race persuaded him to swap places with him so that Jonny would have a conscious friendly face nearby if he woke up. Once Benton was asleep, Race covered him up with one of the standard issue dark green scratchy blankets and put a gentle hand on Jonny's head.

They were headed home, and they had both of them. Race sat back. There were two young people at home that he could face now without flinching.

Jonny looked terrible. Race hoped he didn't feel as bad as he looked.


The world was all noise and movement when Jonny started to wake up. His eyes flipped open and he saw the metal interior of an airplane. "Dad?" he said, trying to sit up. He came up sharply against some kind of restraint. Pain shot through his ribs as he hit the strap, and he felt panic start to take over.

"Dad?" he shrieked, struggling against the bonds. One of his arms was stiff and unresponsive, but he brought his other hand up to the straps, trying to remove them. A large hand came down on top of his, preventing him, and he grabbed the man's wrist and tried to bite it.

"Jonny?" The voice was very loud but extremely familiar. Jonny craned his neck and saw the white-haired man he'd been wishing to see for days. Was it a dream? "Jonny, don't," Race said reassuringly. "You're okay."

"Race?" Jonny couldn't hear his own voice over the sound of the plane's engines, but Race understood him and nodded. "Where's Dad?"

Race pointed to the other side of him, but Jonny couldn't see. A moment later, Race unstrapped from his seat and stood up and Jonny could see his father belted into a seat, sleeping. Beyond him, he could see a bunch of men in green clothes. He looked around the plane at what he could see. They were surrounded by soldiers, and when he looked back up at Race, he saw that Phil Corvin had come to join him.

Race knelt beside the stretcher he was strapped down on and gave him a big, if very ginger, hug. Jonny started to sniffle, and tried to stifle the reaction. He didn't want to seem like a baby, but he was so glad to see Race – and even Phil – that he couldn't help it. When Race pulled back, though, Jonny was surprised to see that tears were running down his face, too. He'd never seen Race cry before, and it worried him.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Race bent and kissed him on the forehead.

"I'm fine, kid, now that you're out of that place!" he said. Jonny had to agree.

"Is Dad okay? He didn't get hurt, did he?"

"No, your dad is fine, Jonny," Race said. "He's just sleeping."

"How is Hadji? Is he still at camp?"

"No," Race said, and Jonny felt the stirrings of panic. Had the corporation . . . but Race kept speaking. "He, Jessie and Estella are all at I-1 Headquarters." Jonny heaved a sigh of relief. "How do you feel?"

"Great!" Jonny said firmly, ignoring the pain in his arm and his ribs.

Race gave him an exasperated look. "You see, Phil, he's just like his father. It's impossible to take care of these two."

Jonny knit his eyebrows together and looked up at him. He liked hearing Race say he was like his father, but why did he seem to think it was a bad thing? "What's wrong?" he asked. "I'm sorry we got caught."

Race squeezed his free hand and said, "It's not your fault, Jonny."

"Did we cause a lot of trouble?" He looked around the plane. "I mean, you never brought the Air Force before."

Race grinned at him. "No. The corporation caused a lot of trouble, and we caused it right back."

"Good." Jonny fell back on the stretcher. Keeping his head up was a lot of effort.

"Are you in any pain, Jonny?" Race asked.

Jonny shrugged. "Not too bad," he lied, but he didn't want them to give him any more stuff for pain. He didn't want to get knocked out by drugs again. He'd missed the whole rescue! "I missed the rescue. What happened?"

"Nothing too exciting, Jonny," Race said. "I don't have the whole story yet. Your dad fell asleep, and –"

"Weren't you there when you saved Dad?" Jonny asked, interrupting.

"No, I was on the team that found you." Jonny lay back, considering the implications of this. They'd been separated? That was really alarming. "I think you'd better try to rest, Jonny," Race said. "This yelling is kind of exhausting."

Jonny gave a weak answering grin. Then he said, "You won't leave, will you?"

"No, Jonny, I'll be right beside you when you wake up." Race got up and sat back down in his seat.

"Why doesn't my arm work?" Jonny asked suddenly.

"It's broken," Race said. "You didn't know?"

Jonny shook his head. He heard a soldier with a red cross on his arm walk up beside him. "Let me take a look, Jonny," he said. "How long ago was he last medicated?" he asked someone that was on the other side of Jonny.

"About three hours," Patricia said, and Jonny craned his neck to see her. She smiled at him. Jonny was mildly stunned by her presence as they discussed his treatment.

"All right, young man, I'm going to give you a shot. We don't want you to be in pain." Jonny sighed and nodded. He looked back at Race who was smiling at him, and hoped he wouldn't wake up to find that this had been a dream.