Race to Witch Mountain (5 page)

Pope picked up the commentary about Jack. “Seventeen, ran away from his foster home. Came to Vegas with hopes of going from stock car to NASCAR. Instead, he found work as a wheelman for Allen Wolfe,Vegas crime boss.”

Burke nodded. As the wheelman, Jack would have driven the getaway car for Wolfe and his crew. That explained why he did so well driving on the highway.

“Last bust, two years ago, grand theft auto,” Pope continued. “Got out and went legit. He's been driving a cab ever since.”

As Pope finished, Carson hurried into the room. “I just spoke to Dominick Firenze, dispatch at Yellow Cab Taxi,” he informed them.“Bruno took a fare a significant distance out of the city. Dispatcher claims that he's been unable to make radio contact for several hours.”

“Does the cab have a tracking device?” Burke asked hopefully.

Carson nodded. “Until it stopped transmitting twenty-eight minutes ago. Last location was on train tracks.”

Pope raised an eyebrow. “Interestingly enough, I've been monitoring a recent report of a massive explosion on some train tracks.”

All eyes were on Pope.

“A freighter collided with an unidentified object.”

If Burke had been a more emotional man, he would have smiled. Instead, within minutes, the four of them had climbed into a Black Hawk helicopter and were flying toward the site of the train collision.

U
naware of Burke's approach, Jack stood on the side of the road looking under the hood of his battered taxi. Almost every part of the vehicle was busted. He shook his head as he tried to imagine how he might get the vehicle up and running again. “Couple of kids, big wad of cash, what could go wrong?” he muttered.

In the backseat, Seth and Sara looked almost as bad as the cab. Sara said something under her breath, but Seth signaled her to stay quiet.

“We cannot trust him,” he whispered.

“We must,” Sara responded. “I can feel it.

Still grumbling, Jack got back into the car and slumped behind the wheel.

Sara leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder.“We know you are frustrated, Jack Bruno,” she began.“But we must ask you . . .”

Jack had had enough. He snapped upright and interrupted her right there. “No, no, no,” he said. “No more ‘Jack Bruno' this and ‘Jack Bruno' that. I've been asking for answers and . . .”

Sara answered his question before he could even ask. “It's exactly what you've been thinking, Jack Bruno.”

Jack flashed an exasperated look.“So now you're going to tell me
exactly
what I've been thinking?”

Sara nodded. Reading minds was another one of her “talents.” “The Siphon, that spaceship, my brother and I . . . are indeed not from your planet.”

“So that's it?” Jack said, spinning around to face them. “Mystery solved. You want me to believe that you're both aliens,” he said slowly.

“It is the truth,” Seth replied.

“You don't look like aliens,” he said slowly.

Sara flashed Seth a confused look before asking, “What does an alien look like, Jack Bruno?”

A few days of driving people back and forth to the UFO convention had given him more than a few ideas. “You know, an alien. Little green men. Antennae. Laser guns. ‘Take me to your leader, Earthlings' mumbo jumbo.”

“Mumbo jumbo?” Seth asked, more confused than before.

Sara seemed to understand better. “He requires some proof,” she said.“He thinks we are insulting his intelligence.”

“Well, yeah,” Jack said. “I mean, you don't just drop the ‘alien' bomb. I have seen some weird things today, but you can't expect me to believe . . .”

Before he could continue, loose items from throughout the cab started to lift into the air. Coins, old parking tickets, and an empty coffee cup were all floating around as if they were in outer space. Jack's mouth dropped open.

“There are things floating around me, right?” he asked, worried that he was losing his mind.

Sara nodded. “I'm telekinetic,” she explained. “I have the ability to move items with my mind.”

“That's impossible,” Jack said, disbelieving.

“It is quite possible,” Sara answered. “On our planet as well as yours. You don't do it because you haven't learned to use your full brain capacity.”

“Maybe I don't do it,” Jack retorted,“because it's just creepy! Could you stop that?”

In an instant, everything dropped simultaneously.

Sighing, Jack turned back around. He tried the ignition and after a few coughs, the cab started. Slowly, the taxi started to rattle down the road, it— and Jack—barely keeping it together.

B
ack at the crash site, flames flickered in the trees alongside the train tracks. A shadowy figure arose from the wreckage of the collision. It was the Siphon. His body was charred, but somehow he had managed to survive. His leg was severely damaged and bent in an unnatural direction. He straightened it, apparently unbothered by any pain. Then a laser emerged from among the weapons on his arm. He used the laser to burn the armor and flesh around his wound and melt it all back together.

Suddenly a noise from above caught his attention. It was the sound of a helicopter's rotors. The Siphon slinked back into the shadows to keep from being spotted.

A searchlight from the helicopter moved across the scene of the collision, as Burke and his team surveyed the wreckage.

“Train engineer is banged up but alive,” Carson told the rest of the team. “Last thing he saw in the tunnel was our taxi and a set of flying lights. He figured it was a small plane.”

“Small plane?” Pope asked, his curiosity piqued. “You think there's a chance they have a second spacecraft?”

Matheson shook his head. “You have the ability to fly at the speed of light, yet you use a beat-up cab?”

Burke had seen enough.“Secure the site. Catalog
every
piece of debris. I want to know what's train, what's cab, and . . . what's left.”

“Roger that,” Carson replied. “We've set up a trace on Bruno's cell phone. He uses it, we'll be there before he can hang up.”

Burke nodded, confident that the chase was nearing its end.

CHAPTER 10

J
ack's taxi was running, but just barely. It sputtered down the road and past a sign reading,
ENTERING STONY CREEK—EST
. 1846. Once a silver-mining camp, Stony Creek looked like the kind of small town where everybody knew everybody else. Jack also hoped it was the kind of town where you could find a great mechanic at any hour of the night.

Jack managed to nurse his cab all the way to Eddie's Service Station. As they got out of the cab, he turned to the kids. “Don't say anything. Don't touch anything. And don't do anything . . . freaky,” he instructed them. Then he turned and called out to see if anyone was there.

A man who looked to be in his fifties walked out from a dusty old office. This was Eddie, who owned the garage.“We're closed,” he explained.

“I know,” Jack responded. “It's just we've experienced some car trouble.”

Eddie shrugged. “We're still closed. Better to experience some car trouble when we're open.”

“I'll plan better next time,” Jack said.

“Jack Bruno,” Sara said, ignoring his instructions to remain quiet. “The only thing that will convince Eddie to reopen for business will be a significant sum of money.”

“Do I know you from somewhere?” the mechanic asked, looking at her carefully.

Jack didn't give Sara a chance to answer. “Nope, you don't,” he assured him. He pulled the money from his pocket. “We'll pay you double your rate.”

Eddie was no longer concerned about how Sara knew his name. This was now a negotiation. “Triple,” he replied.

“Done,” Jack said with a satisfied smile.

A few minutes later, Eddie was hard at work on the car while Jack and the kids were walking into a nearby restaurant to get something to eat. The restaurant was nice but nothing fancy. A country band was playing on the stage, and a few couples were on the dance floor. Sara and Seth were intrigued by everything they saw.

“This settlement of Stony Creek has less lights and energy than Las Vegas city,” Sara observed.

“Every place on the planet has less lights and energy than Vegas,” Jack observed, smiling. Then he turned to the kids, his expression growing serious. “Look I need you two not to be ‘aliens' in here. Understand?”

“No. I do not,” Sara answered.“How can we not be what we are?”

Jack stifled a sigh. “Just don't do any of your creepy magic floaty stuff,” he explained.

As they sat down at a table, Sara looked Jack in the eye and said, “I hope you do not act upon your thought of making a fast break out the back door and escaping Stony Creek never to look back at us again.”

Jack's eyes opened wide. “How did you know that?” he asked.

“My sister also has the gift of telepathy,” Seth informed him. “She can read the minds of those nearest to her.”

“Tell your sister, on Earth it's rude to read people's minds.” Jack gave a little finger wag for emphasis.

Jack was a bundle of nerves, especially when the local sheriff walked in and sat at a nearby table. It seemed as if everybody was staring at them— including the sheriff and his three deputies.

Seth and Sara had gone to wash their hands when Jack's cell phone rang, startling him. It was Dominick, his boss from the cab company.

“I've been trying to get you all night!” Dominick cried. “Where are you? You dump that fare yet?”

“Not quite,” Jack answered. “It's complicated.”

“Un-complicate it,” Dominick ordered. “I want my cab back. Spotless.” Jack cringed, thinking about how far from spotless the cab actually was.

“By the way,” Dominick continued, “don't have your creditors call, looking for you here.”

“Creditors?” Jack had no idea what Dominick was talking about.

“You got all kinds of people trying to find you,” he said. “Pay your bills on time.”Then he hung up.

Jack was confused. He didn't owe anyone money. Which meant, someone was trying to find him. Was it Wolfe? Or did it have something to do with Seth and Sara?

Unknown to Jack, Burke and his team were listening in on the call and had instantly begun tracing his location. Within moments they were rushing toward Stony Creek.

When Seth and Sara returned, Jack looked at them nervously. He had made a decision and wanted to tell them what it was.

“I think it would be . . .” he started to say.

Sara finished his statement, “best for everyone if Seth and I got another ride?”

“Seriously,” Jack said, more than a little creeped out that she could read his mind,“you've got to stop doing that.”

The waitress brought their orders, and when she left, he went on. “I'm sorry,” Jack said, sounding genuine.“But you need someone from NASA or the air force to help you. Not me.”

“If you abandon us, our mission will be in jeopardy,” Sara told him.

“And the chances of our survival zero,” Seth added.

Silence fell as the three ate their food. Finally, Sara spoke up. “On Earth, isn't there a difference between ‘can't help,' and ‘won't help'?” she asked.

Jack swallowed a bite of his food.“I'm just trying to be honest here,” he said. “I'm the wrong guy.”

Sara reached out and put a hand on top of Jack's. “Maybe you need help, too, Jack Bruno.”

Before Jack could respond, his cell phone rang again. He answered it expecting to hear Dominick complain some more. But it was a voice he didn't recognize.

“Are they safe, Jack?” the voice asked.

Jack got up from the table so that the kids couldn't overhear him and so that Sara couldn't read his mind.

“Who is this?” Jack asked when he was far enough away from them.

“Henry Burke. I work for the Department of Defense. I handle their more sensitive cases.”

“What do you mean
sensitive
?”

“I suspect we both know the answer to that question,” Burke answered.

Jack's protective instincts kicked in. He looked out the window, scanning for any suspicious activity.

“Look, they're just kids,” Jack told him. “They don't want any trouble. Neither do I.”

“Good,” Burke responded. “Then we're all on the same page.
Trouble
is the last thing I want as well. But what I
do
want is your two passengers.”

There was something about Burke's voice that Jack didn't trust. He looked out the window again. Five black SUVs had driven up the otherwise empty street. They began to block off the roads, closing off escape routes.

“I have had a chance to acquaint myself with your background,” Burke went on. “You're a convicted felon. You've spent most of the day breaking one law after another, for what—them?”