Domino Falls (26 page)

Kendra went to Gloria, who was nodding compassionately while a wild-eyed woman told her she didn't have anything to trade except jerky and kerosene.

Kendra caught Gloria's eye, and Gloria nodded toward the gas station door.

“Radio's already set to the frequency,” Gloria said. “Running on batteries now. It's okay if you don't know the radio lingo. Ham operators aren't supposed to use their names, but we're making this up as we go.”

Even better than she'd hoped! But as Kendra walked into the gas station and tinkled the bell, she caught herself thinking about how much easier it would be if Aunt Stella weren't there, or if Aunt Stella said she couldn't come. Maybe they could keep
out of trouble in Threadville and make a difference instead of running away.

The radio was lighted and ready. Sighing with something like dread, Kendra picked up the mic and pressed Talk. “Uh . . .” she began. “This is Domino Falls, California. Or . . . Threadville. We're looking for Stella Carver. Is Stella Carver there?”

“Take fifteen minutes. Stand by.”

Kendra heard a beep and a whisper that could have been a thousand miles away. She waited fifteen minutes and then another five and was beginning to get nervous when a strong, loud man's voice spoke. “Hold for Stella,” the radio operator said. He didn't sound like Max.

“Kendra?” Aunt Stella's voice crackled over the radio. For an instant, Kendra forgot about Brownie, Rianne, and her plan; she was awash in the memory of her grandmother's cadences, so closely mirrored in Aunt Stella's voice—even her father's ghost, hidden in the Southern-tinged inflection. Even without seeing her face, she knew this woman was family.

“I'm here,” Kendra said. “I still can't believe I'm talking to you after all this—”

“I don't know if you remember, Kendra, but Devon and Cassie brought you to the Brookings family reunion in Houston. You couldn't have been more than five.”

Memories returned in a flash. Kendra remembered her father in a chef's apron. Corn on the cob bigger than barrels, ribs that would have choked Fred Flintstone. Happy faces smeared with barbecue sauce. “I remember,” she said. “And Grandpa Joe said you gave him a Paul Laurence Dunbar book.”

Terry gave her a frantic look:
What are you doing?

Carefully, Kendra removed her finger from the Talk button. “Don't you think we have a better chance if we have some kind of connection? Watch the door.”

Aunt Stella was saying how impressed she was that Kendra could name Paul Laurence Dunbar, and talked about what a wonderful poet he was. Then, voice tentative, she asked about Grandpa Joe.

Another memory, blooming with shocking clarity: Mom had always joked that the friendship between her father and Dad's aunt was “unwholesome.” They had met at their wedding and kept in touch over the years, back before her aunt Stella was single. Her aunt wasn't just family in name; Stella was part of Kendra's obliterated past.

“He didn't make it, Aunt Stella,” Kendra said, remembering to be gentle. “But he saved my life. He told me to call you.”

“Your guardian angel,” Aunt Stella said. “That dear man.”

Since Freak Day, people avoided curiosity about how people had died. No one asked for details. The best thing to tell someone was “The freaks didn't get him,” or “It was quick.” But neither case was true about Grandpa Joe or her parents, so Kendra said nothing. Grief sat on her, new and dazzling in its scope.

But Kendra's sudden mistiness went away when she glanced through the window and saw Gloria making her way toward the office. Terry was right. There was no time for family reunions.

Quickly, Kendra went on. “The last thing Grandpa Joe said to me was to find Aunt Stella. It's like he's still watching over me right now. But I'm not alone—and if I bring my friends, I want to make sure they can get in too.”

A pause. “How many friends, child?”

Kendra counted everyone in her head. The Blue Beauty group was only seven people, including her, but what about Myles and the others? “There are ten of us.” Maybe eleven, but she couldn't make herself admit it.

Aunt Stella gasped. Then she sounded sad. “Oh, Kendra . . . Ten?”

“Maybe less. But that's the only way we've stayed alive—power in numbers,” she said. “My friends can bring me there, but . . . I can't leave them outside.”

Another pause, and a crackle of static. “Ten's a whole lot of folks, Kendra. I was thinking you could stay with me, but . . .” She sighed. “I just don't know . . .”

“Nobody's hurt,” she said. “We're all fit to work. We know how to shoot.”

She almost told her a mechanic would be with them, but decided against mentioning Myles. Six strides from the front door, Gloria was stopped outside by a man pleading his case, trying to persuade her to examine something inside a box he held. “We'll do anything to live there. I want to be with you. I promised Grandpa Joe.”

Terry gave her a thumbs-up sign, smiling. Nice touch.

“Well, Kendra, my friend here's shrugging his shoulders more than he's shaking his head, so maybe there's a chance. I can't promise for everyone, honey, but I can get you in, probably a few more. Maybe all of you—if they have skills . . .” She sounded near tears. Kendra hoped she wouldn't be bringing trouble to Aunt Stella's door.

Kendra glanced at Gloria again to make sure she was out of earshot. “We can leave tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Tomorrow?” Aunt Stella said, brightening. “Yes, sooner's better. They're expecting a big group from Atascadero by New Year's. First come, first served. Think you could make it down to Long Beach Airport on . . . Christmas Day? I think I could bend their arms if we did it then. Everybody wants a miracle on Christmas Day.”

Today was December 23. Two days.

Kendra looked at Terry, and he nodded enthusiastically. He'd been researching the trip since the meeting with Myles,
checking his maps. Nearly four hundred miles was a long drive, only two hundred miles fewer than the drive from Portland, but Terry looked confident. Myles had promised him the bus would run much better.

“Yes!” Kendra said. “We can be there in two days.”

“Well, you be at that airport—make it noon. Don't be late. Let me tell you, pumpkin. If I get these folks to send out a plane, but you don't make it on time . . .” She didn't have to say the rest. Aunt Stella would be pulling every favor she was owed to send a plane to her, and she could do it only once.

“Don't worry, Aunt Stella,” Kendra said. “We'll be there.”

By the time Gloria came inside, bell tinkling, Kendra had already signed off.

W
here'd
you get this map?” Terry said.

The neatly folded map they had been studying on Myles's coffee table was colorful and detailed:
Your Threadrunning Adventure.
It looked like promotional material from an amusement park, but it had been thoroughly marked up with a dark pen. The map identified rooms like the library and screening room with quote balloons from a cartoon Wales:
“This is where I watch all of my movies! The Ranch Theater seats 20!”
But to Kendra, the handwriting was much more intriguing.

“Never mind where I got it,” Myles said. “Point is, I have it. Got to be some way it can help us see Rianne.”

“Great,” Piranha said. “All we have to do is find the room marked Top Secret Dungeon, and we're rolling.”

“We might,” Kendra said. She leaned over the table, eyes arrested by the hurried handwriting:
Storage Room. Rear Entry. Staff Kitchen.
An insider had added information to the basic map, places that weren't on the public tour.

Kendra and Terry were both reading the map so intently that they nearly bumped heads. Kendra ventured a guess that Jackie had given Myles the map, since her brother was a Gold Shirt. Jackie didn't want it to show, but she was helping them.

Terry had convinced Myles that it made sense for them to come to his house because the bus was still parked there, although the Blue Beauty had been marked with a bright blue tag that said it was public property. Myles said the mayor had asked him to tag the bus until the probation period was over, since Domino Falls would claim rights to half of their belongings if they stayed. Someone had reported seeing them take home supplies from the bus on their last visit, Myles had confided.

They decided that Myles's house was no more suspicious than meeting in a barn, so they were in the family's living room instead, behind the shuttered windows, every lamp on to make the room bright. While they looked at the map, Deirdre served them from a white wicker tray, a memory of a different world. “You want some lemonade, sweetheart?” Deirdre said, touching Ursalina's shoulder.

Ursalina flinched. “No, thanks,” she said, and muttered to herself: “More like Kool-Aid.”

Kendra ignored Ursalina's jibe, hoping Deirdre hadn't heard. They had Darius and Dean, so they didn't need Ursalina. But if Ursalina wasn't on board for a rescue, why had she come with them instead of going to dinner?

“Mom?” Kendra said, finally able to use Deirdre's nickname. “I'd like some, please.” Deirdre smiled at her, grateful, and gave her a glass. Lemonade meant citrus. Vitamins. Health. Lemonade was a luxury she might miss one day, and she sure as hell missed her mother.

Everyone crowded around the map, their puzzle for the past three hours. Slowly, a plan was coming to life.

“Myles,” Terry said. “You're sure we can trust whoever gave you this map?”

Myles nodded, grim. “If we can't, we've got bigger problems than this map.”

“It's Jackie, isn't it?” Kendra said. Although Myles denied it, she saw the truth from the flare of surprise in his eyes because she'd guessed. She didn't have to glance at Deirdre or Jason to know.

“We can trust the map,” Kendra said, satisfied. She trusted Jackie, anyway.

Kendra remembered the walk from the foyer to the library at the ranch, and the map showed a doorway nearest to where she'd had her strangest experience, feeling a presence on the other side. Maybe the person she'd felt was Rianne! Maybe it was the aura or intuition Sharon Lampher had talked about on the beach.

No room at the spot was marked on the official map, but someone had scrawled
Special Collections
with letters nearly too small to see.

Sonia paced. “If we're getting all dressed up to visit Wales, we better get ready.”

It was almost eight o'clock, according to the old-fashioned grandfather clock by the front door. Soon they would lose the electricity, back to battery lamps and candles. “No way,” Ursalina said. “If the plan's no good, don't go. The plan comes first. This is where you find out if you're setting yourselves up—the plan.” Ursalina didn't sound like she meant to come with them, Kendra realized. But at least she was helping.

“She's right,” Terry said. “None of this happens if the plan doesn't feel right.”

“I don't like you going after Wales like that,” Piranha said to Sonia. “If you're alone with him, we can't protect you.”

“I'll be fine,” Sonia said. “I can protect myself.”

The plan called for Sonia to distract Wales, hopefully getting him alone. Beyond that, Kendra hated to think about it. The idea of being alone with Wales the way she'd been with Terry made her feel sick. But that was Sonia's job now.

Kendra's assignment was to ask to study the Special Collections in the library to learn more about Threadism and wait for an opportunity to get through the door where she'd felt the strange presence.

If she found Rianne there, she would try to convince the girl to come with her. But then what? They couldn't expect to be allowed to walk back through the front door.

“Biggest problem?” Dean said. “No exit strategy.”

They were all thinking the same thing. They stared at the map, waiting for the answer to present itself. Kendra nearly bumped Terry's head again.

“What about the tunnel?” Jason said suddenly. He'd left the room for a while, wandering into the kitchen, but he stuck his head back in.

“What tunnel?” Ursalina said.

Jason walked to stand over the map, and they cleared space at the table for him to join them. He leaned close, tracing the exterior wall with his finger.

“It's not on the map,” Jason said, “but there's a tunnel behind the ranch. It goes under the fence and right to a door.”

Myles and Deirdre looked shocked. “How do you know?” they said in unison.

Jason bit his lip. “I didn't want to get in trouble, but . . . it started with the RPGs.”

Ursalina's eyes bulged. “Rocket-propelled grenades? Where? Wales has them?”

Jason laughed. “No, role-playing games,” he said.

“What are you talking about, Jason?” Myles said sternly. “You were out there?”

“Not just me,” Jason said quickly. “On school field trips, remember? But it wasn't just inside the ranch—he played games with us.”

Deirdre suddenly sat on the sofa as if her legs had given way, her eyes hanging on her son, expecting terrible news. “Who?” Deirdre said. “What kind of games?”

“Mr. Wales,” Jason said. “Sometimes him, sometimes his Threadie Irregulars. They were pretending it was the end of the world already. Called each other by weird code names. It was fun! They'd let us run around outside like aliens or zombies were chasing us, and they had all these plans to escape. Once I was hiding, and . . . I wasn't supposed to, but I went into a tunnel. It was way out in back of the ranch, near . . . like, a mine or something. There used to be mines around here, silver or gold. The door was open, so I went in.”

Myles and Deirdre stared empty-eyed at Jason, beyond emotion.