The Forbidden Trilogy (17 page)

I knew the answer, but I wanted him to tell me he had
nothing to do with this mess.

"I've known for a few months that something wasn't
right. I've been keeping an eye on you ever since we returned from your last
assignment. When I found out about the art studio fire, I looked into it, and
some things didn't make sense, but it doesn't pay to get too curious about the
people we work for. I have a family to consider, but I also knew I had to keep
you safe. I thought getting you off campus and to New York would be
enough."

"So now you know. I'm not going to New York."
Saying it out loud made it feel much too real. I wanted to swallow the words
back into my throat and pretend it wasn't true, that none of this was really
happening, but feigned ignorance would not save me.

My mind flashed to an old Calvin and Hobbes cartoon I'd seen
years ago. They were sliding down a mountain on a sled as Calvin spouted that
the value of ignorance is bliss. Once we know something, he argued, we are
forced to consider personal change in order to fix the problems that we see. If
we persist in ignorance, we can stay cocooned in our beliefs—we can remain
happy. At the end, when they fly off a cliff and crash, Hobbes remarks that he
can't handle this much bliss.

In my heart I knew that to stay blind would not lead to any
happy endings, and my fall off the proverbial cliff would not result in a witty
barb, but rather an end to everything that mattered to me. No matter how
unpleasant the truth, I had to face it and change my life to fix the problems.

Gar studied me as if searching for words he rarely used. I
could imagine him opening up the container in his mind that held language, and
dusting off all those unnecessary sentences and paragraphs.

Before he could respond, his walkie-talkie blared to life.
"Do you need assistance? Our monitors indicate you've stopped."

I sucked in a breath. "Who's that?"

Gar looked around as if we were being watched. "Like
you, the car has a tracker, and so do I. They monitor when we leave, to make
sure we go straight to the airfield without incident."

Nausea bubbled up in my stomach, and I willed myself to keep
my party food down. Between the utter exhaustion of leaving in the middle of
the night, the emotional drain of keeping up a façade at the party, and saying
goodbye to my friends—and now this—I was surprised I could sit up on my own. I
didn't realize they embedded trackers in the guards as well. Did the teachers
and all the staff have them?

That could help explain why Mr. K hated it there. He wasn't
the type who would like being tracked like a stray dog.

So even just pulling over for thirty seconds triggered a
response. We had to respond with something that wouldn't raise their radar.
"Tell them I'm sick, that you pulled over so I could throw up."

He nodded and spoke into the walkie-talkie. "The girl
got sick. I pulled over so she could puke. Will be at airfield about ten
minutes behind schedule."

"You're taking me there? Even knowing what they'll
do?"

The car jerked into drive and Gar pulled back onto the
street. "If we try to escape now, they'll find us before we reach the
highway."

With trackers in our bodies and on the car, we didn't have
any chance of making a run for it. There had to be another way. "What
about removing our trackers? If they can't track us we could escape,
right?"

The movie scene played in my mind. We cut ourselves open and
remove the trackers. Gar finds the tracker on the car and disables it, then
tosses his cell phone and we drive off like James Bond, never to be heard from
again. Easy.

Gar eyed me in the rear view mirror and frowned as though he
could read my mind. "I could remove our trackers, but with your pregnancy
and without proper medical supplies, I don't want to risk that. They're buried
pretty deep, and I could do more harm than good. Besides, there aren't many
roads we can hide on. They'd find us."

I grunted in frustration, my James Bond fantasy destroyed by
the onslaught of reality. "So what, we give up and you just hand me over
as a human breeder?"

His face hardened. "No. We don't give up. We think of a
better plan. We'll have a greater chance of escaping once we're in the air. The
trackers don't work in flight. I can hijack the plane, which has a stock of
medical supplies. I can then remove the trackers and get you somewhere safe.
But we need more than just an escape plan. Do you have anyplace to go?"

"Yeah, kind of. But we need to find Drake first.
They're keeping him prisoner at another facility—the one they're taking me to.
He has friends on the outside who can help us."

Gar shook his head. "Nope. My job is to keep you safe.
We can't risk going after your boyfriend right now, not with a half-assed plan
and no back up. So, where do you want to go?"

Drake had been listening and chimed in.
'Go to Father
Patrick's church. Tell him what's happened. He'll find a way to help.'

"I don't want to leave you there. What if they hurt
you when they find out I've escaped?"

'I'll be fine. I heal fast. Just get to the church.
Please!'

This plan had too many holes in it, but it was all we had
and we were running out of time. "Fine. Can you get me to Venice,
California?"

Gar nodded.

I stared out into the dark. "What about you? Where will
you go when this is over? Drake's friend can probably help you too."

He turned right and slowed down as much as possible without
stopping. "We'll figure that out when and if this works. You have to know,
Sam, that the odds are stacked against us. Now, I need to make a call before we
get there."

He dialed his cell phone. "Honey, it's me. Yeah,
remember what we talked about...? Now would be a good time to visit some
family. Keep our girl safe.... I love you too. Bye."

Oh God, how could I let him risk his life and safety for me?
He'd told me about his family, but now they seemed more real. "This is a
bad idea. You have people depending on you. You need to do your job and forget
about me."

'Sam, no!'

"He has a family, Drake. I can't let him do
this!"

"My wife knew something like this might happen. She'd
want me to help you if she knew everything. I can't walk away and leave you in
their hands without at least trying to save you."

"Why?"

"Because... our daughter... she's special. Special like
you and your friends. I'd hoped your school could help her, but now I need to
make sure she's safe from them."

His mind pulled me in and memories of his daughter filled my
vision.

***

"Daddy, Daddy, come quick!" A little girl with
flaming red hair and emerald green eyes sat on the grass next to the lake.

Gar ran out, fear clutching his heart at the distress in
his daughter's voice.

Dirty tears streaked her freckled face. In her hands a
kitten shuddered and convulsed—dying.

"Daddy, she's broken. Fix her, Daddy, fix her."

Gar knelt down next to the little girl who owned his
heart, and cupped her cherub face with his large hands. "I'm sorry, Baby,
I don't know how to fix the kitten."

"I found her here, next to the lake. I think she was
attacked by a bigger animal."

The snow-white ball of fur had streaks of blood on its
belly, likely internal injuries. Gar knew she didn't have long.

"Serena, I'm sorry. You'll have to let her go."

He tried to pry the girl's hands off the kitten, but she
used all of her 6-year-old fury to hold on without crushing the dying animal.

"Do you see that, Daddy? The world got sparkly and
my hands feel hot."

Gar didn't see the sparkly world, but when he looked down
at his daughter's hands, they glowed a bright white.

Shocked speechless, he watched as the light surrounded
the kitten.

He didn't notice how pale Serena had become until the
kitten sat up and licked her face.

"Daddy, I'm tired now."

He picked up his daughter and carried her home, with the
kitten trailing behind.

***

Gar's voice jolted me out of the memory. "That cat
hasn't left her side since. This was four years ago."

My voice came out in a whisper. "She's a healer. A
powerful one."

"Yes. We've done our best to keep her gifts secret.
After healing the cat, she couldn't get out of bed for a week. We'd
hoped—"

"—that Rent-A-Kid would keep her safe."

If they ever found out about her powers, the rich and
powerful would pay anything to live longer, to be healed from disease, and
she'd be drained until nothing remained but a shell of that girl.

It made sense now, why Gar had become my guardian angel.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. We still have a lot of work ahead
of us."

***

The seconds dripped into my veins like acid. Dread filled me
each time I thought about our plan.

We were about to hijack a plane? That was insane. I mean,
sure, Gar would be the one doing all the heavy hijacking, but I would be part
of it.

He ignored my attempts at small talk, so I finally shut my
mouth and prayed to whoever might be listening that we'd make it out alive.

When we neared the airstrip, the runway lights and buildings
turned night into day and blinded me. It shone bright with one tall radar
tower, an office for the air traffic controllers who doubled as guards—or maybe
guards who doubled as air traffic controllers—and a hanger that fit two
state-of-the-art jets.

We drove through a chain link fence topped with razor wire,
and pulled up to the jet that had been prepped for my journey.

I did my best to put on a game face. If I just pretended as
though this were another assignment, I might get through it.

The pilot stood by the plane with a clipboard in hand,
presumably doing a last-minute check of everything, and the stewardess smoked a
cigarette outside the hanger.

Gar pushed thoughts into my mind.
'There are two guards
stationed at the entrance of the jet, two in the office, the pilot and the
stewardess. I'm the only guard that will be on the plane once it takes off, so
I can disable the stewardess and pilot and take over the plane.'

As he opened my door and grabbed my luggage, I jerked my
head an imperceptible amount to let him know I'd heard him.

A chill swept through me and I shivered, pulling my jacket
more tightly around me. My flimsy party dress did nothing to protect me from
the cold night air.

Gar greeted the pilot and handed off my luggage to the
guards manning the entrance. The short, stout bald one took my luggage up the
stairs and into the plane, then returned and stood next to his taller, lankier
partner. They both wore all black and had guns holstered at their sides.

Once the luggage had been handled, Gar motioned for me to
enter first, so I did.

So far so good.

Then Gar tried to follow me in, but the stout guard stepped
in front of him. "Change of orders, we will accompany the girl this time.
You're needed back at the school."

I froze at the top of the stairs, just before the door. Gar
looked up at me, but I couldn't read his face, so I slipped into his mind.

'Must do something.... Need new plan.'

If he couldn't travel with me, we had no plan. But Gar
didn't back down. "I've been given my orders. I'm to accompany her to her
destination. Step aside."

Neither guard budged. "We've got it from here. Return
to school and await further orders. You've been reassigned."

Gar smiled, perhaps the first smile I'd seen on him. It sat
awkwardly on his face, like an ill-fitting mask. "I'm sure we can figure
this out, gentlemen. Let me just check in and clear everything with the
boss."

The guards both relaxed their postures and nodded. A quick
read of their minds proved Gar's response fit with protocol. They had no reason
to believe he would go against orders.

Gar's body tensed as he spoke in hushed tones on the phone.
He nodded his head a few times, and I could tell he tried to stay casual in his
stance, but his balled fists betrayed his anger.

The conversation ended, and every nerve ending in my body
flared to life. Sweat trickled down my neck onto the collar of my jacket, and
the moment stretched into eternity as I waited to see what, if anything, Gar
would do next.

As much as I wanted to peek into his mind, I needed to stay
focused and alert. Should I try to run, stay on the plane, scream, cry, pretend
to pass out? A dozen thoughts flittered through my mind, a dozen ways to
distract, to get attention off of Gar—but that might make his job harder.

With hyper-awareness, I focused on Gar's every muscle twitch
and movement.

His left fist unclenched, and something slipped into his
hand. A syringe. He was going to attack.

Oh God!
My heart thudded in my chest so hard I was
sure the guards could hear it.

Gar chuckled and used his right hand to pocket his phone.
"Guess you boys were right. Sorry about the trouble. Do you mind if I use
the jet bathroom before I go? It's so much nicer than the one in the
office."

The tall guard shook his head. "Sorry, man. Orders are
orders. No one else is allowed on the plane."

Gar shrugged. "I understand. Oh hey, you've got
something on your collar there."

Before either guard knew what was happening, he leaned into
the tall guard on the left and plunged the needle into his neck. In the same
breath he pulled the other guard's gun from his holster.

The tall guard staggered to the side with his hands
clutching the syringe. "What'd you... do... ack...." He tried to
lunge at Gar, but fell to the side on the tarmac and passed out.