Running Out of Time (19 page)

Bob explained that Mr. Clifton's scientist friends had planned all along to eventually close Clifton to tourists, introduce various diseases, and see who would survive. They had intended to wait until the first generation grew up.

“They planned to gradually remove your parents, so there would be no one like your mother around to know cures were possible,” Bob said. “But the plotters got overeager. They stopped the modern medicine early—didn't you say at your news conference that the Clifton doctor stopped giving out pills that worked? Then at least one of the plotters introduced a diphtheria strain. After you escaped, they rushed to close Clifton Village entirely to the outside world. But that actually backfired—it just made the media suspicious enough to show up for your news conference. And you stopped their plot.”

Jessie shivered, still thinking about the diphtheria.

“So Clifton's men did want all of us to die. Like Abby and Jefferson.” She couldn't say their names without a quiver in her voice.

Bob shook his head.

“No—just the weaker ones. They wanted the stronger people to live. To create the strong gene pool.”

The explanation scared Jessie. “So scientists think it's okay to—to let children die in an experiment?”

“No,” Bob said. “Not at all. Other scientists are comparing this to the Nazi concentration camp experiments.”

“The what?” Jessie asked. Would she ever understand anything?

“I forgot you wouldn't know about that…. Nazis were very bad people who ruled Germany—the country that you probably know as Prussia—about sixty years ago. They did terribly cruel things to other people in the name of science. And, like now, other scientists were horrified.”

Jessie thought some more.

“What about Mr. Neeley—Frank Lyle, I mean? I know at the news conference someone said the real Mr. Neeley was dead, and I guess Clifton's men knew I escaped and found out who I was trying to call, but—”

Bob chuckled. “How did Frank Lyle fool you? Is that what you want to know?”

Jessie nodded.

“Yes. Ma gave me Mr. Neeley's number. How did Frank Lyle answer his phone?”

“Lyle broke into the home of the family who got that number after the real Neeley died. Fortunately for him—or for the family, maybe—the family was away on vacation. So all he had to do was wait for you to call. Then when you did, he simply took you back to an apartment he'd rented and pretended to be Isaac Neeley.”

“Oh,” Jessie said.

“As near as I can tell,” Bob said, “Lyle was the ringleader of the whole thing, the one who convinced Miles Clifton to start Clifton Village. And I'd bet serious money he was the one who introduced the diphtheria early.”

Bob stood up and stretched.

“That's an awful lot for you to absorb in one day. Isn't it my turn to ask questions yet?”

“Just one more question,” Jessie said. “Can you tell the
state that Ma and Pa are good parents? And that Hannah and Andrew and Nathan and Bartholomew and Katie and I want to go home with them?”

“The state's not going to listen to me. But if I write a story about how a brave thirteen-year-old girl who risked her life for twenty sick children just wants to see her parents and go home—”

“I get it,” Jessie said. “What do I have to say?”

“Whatever you really believe. Now, tell me—why do you want to go home so badly?”

Jessie told Bob everything she could. He finished up quickly, promised to come back to visit again, and left.

Two days later, a woman in a pink top and blue jeans knocked at Jessie's door. Jessie blinked, afraid she was just imagining what she wanted to see. But her imagination would have worn nineteenth-century clothes.

“Ma!”

Jessie started to jump up and hug her, then remembered she was still too sick to move so fast. It didn't matter. Ma was at her bed and already had her arms wrapped around Jessie's shoulders.

“Are you taking me home?” Jessie asked.

“Not yet, I'm afraid,” Ma said. “Pa and I aren't going to be allowed to do anything but visit you for a while. But, oh, Jessie, it's so good to see you—”

Ma hugged her tighter.

“Ma, I didn't get help in time. Abby and Jefferson died,” Jessie whispered.

Ma put her hand on Jessie's cheek.

“I know. It's a terrible shame—they shouldn't have died.
But you mustn't feel guilty. It's not your fault. And—you saved a lot of children who would have died if you hadn't gotten help. Now, how are you? Are you okay?”

They talked and talked until the social worker came in and said, “Time's up.”

Afterward, Jessie was alone again. She stared out the window. She'd had all her questions answered, she'd gotten to see Ma, and she would see Pa the next day. Ma had comforted her about Abby and Jefferson.

So why did Jessie still feel confused?

J
essie climbed to the top of the King of the Mountain rock and sat down, pulling her knees against her chest. She still didn't have her full strength back after the sickness, and her legs trembled a little from the exertion.

Around her, the cool, shadowed woods felt good after the thick August heat in Clifton. The trees were still green and leafy, but Jessie's sharp eyes could pick out brown patches, patches signaling autumn wasn't far away.

It had been almost four months since the night Ma crouched beside this rock to start Jessie on her quest for help. But it had been only a week since the state decided it was safe for Jessie and her brothers and sisters to live with their parents again. They'd all moved back to their cabin in Clifton only three days ago.

“Just like before,” Katie had said brightly when the family
all gathered around the supper table the first night.

“Yes, princess,” Pa said, and smiled.

But Jessie knew things would never be the same as before. Abby and Jefferson were dead, and that still upset everyone. Besides, all the other families had moved away; the Keysers were allowed to stay only because Pa was taking care of Clifton while judges decided who should get the land.

Jessie bunched up her calico skirt in her hand. She looked like the old Jessie, “just like before,” but that was just for today. Tomorrow she'd wear blue jeans and look like every other 1996 teenager.

For tomorrow, the Keyser children would all be going to a modern school outside Clifton. They'd ride one of those big yellow vehicles Jessie had seen all those months ago—she knew now that they were called school buses, not limousines. Jessie and the others would learn about all the twentieth-century things they'd missed all these years. They'd even do some of their work on something called a computer.

Jessie let go of the calico. All the others were excited about going to school and “being modern.” Hannah had discovered makeup and marveled at how red she could make her lips and cheeks without pinching them. Andrew had fallen in love with cars and any other vehicle that didn't need a horse. All he could talk about was getting to ride a bus every day. He had the younger ones thrilled about that, too.

Jessie could understand why her brothers and sisters were eager to learn more about the outside world. But for once, she was the most frightened of the Keyser children. She wasn't sure she'd fit in at the modern school. And she couldn't understand why the others didn't see the difference in Ma
and Pa: Ma, who cried sometimes when she thought no one was looking, and Pa, who had to be cajoled to wear modern clothes or talk about anything that happened after August 1840. Pa had to see someone called a psychiatrist for help. “Jes-sie! Oh, Jessie!”

Jessie turned and saw Ma coming toward the rock.

“I thought you might be here,” Ma said.

“I needed to think…. Did I forget some chore?”

“No.” Ma looked up at Jessie carefully. “Things are pretty confusing, aren't they?”

Jessie nodded. “When I was little, I thought you and Pa knew everything, and you could protect me from everything. And now—” Jessie chose her words carefully. She didn't want to insult Ma. “Now it's not like that.”

“I know,” Ma said. “You went from feeling as safe as a five-year-old to finding out news that would destroy a lot of adults. That practically has destroyed a lot of adults.”

Jessie remembered that the psychiatrist had said Pa might be trying to forget it was the twentieth century on purpose—because remembering would mean knowing he'd put his whole family in danger. The psychiatrist thought coming back to Clifton for a while might help Pa ease into the twentieth century. Jessie wasn't so sure.

“Ma, is everything going to be okay?” Jessie asked.

“I hope so. You have to remember—you may not feel safer now, but you are.”

“But school's going to be different and—”

“Jessie, you coped with a lot when you went for help. I'm less worried about you than any of the other children. Or Pa.” Ma looked down at her hands. She twisted her wedding ring
on her finger. “I've got to go start supper,” she finally said. “Stay here as long as you like. Hannah'll do your chores.”

Jessie sat still for a while, watching Ma's retreating back. She thought about how scared she'd been, leaving Clifton that night almost four months ago. In spite of everything, she'd done all right on her journey. No—she'd done okay.

Jessie was still scared, but she felt better. She stood and jumped off the rock, letting the wind puff out her skirt. It was frightening, plunging through the empty air, but she believed she'd land safely.