The Masked Family (5 page)

A thunderous blast erupted, echoing off the mountainsides, and everyone stopped charging toward the train. The great boom sounded so close that people looked all around to see if something had blown up in the middle of town.

Olenka looked around, too. The porch of the ticket office shook underfoot, and she heard the sound of shattering glass.

Wilbur darted out of the ticket office without his hat. "What is it? What happened?"

Father Stanislavski put a hand on Olenka's shoulder. "Stay close," he told her. "No matter what."

Olenka noticed that the tone of his voice had gotten harsher. "I will, Father."

"Things could get bad fast now." Father Stanislavski drew a hand over his head, smoothing his wispy white hair.

As soon as he'd said it, a second explosion let loose, louder than the first. Olenka covered her ears but could still feel the shockwaves rippling through her body from head to toe. Her heart hammered so fast in her chest, she thought it might be the next thing to explode.

"They're blowin' up the town!" said a man in the crowd. "The Klan's blowin' us all up!"

 

*****

Chapter Ten

Near Tulsa, Oklahoma, 2006

Cary would have run his taxi headlong into a tractor-trailer if the child hadn't called on his cell phone. The child whose voice he didn't recognize.

Though it was broad daylight, a quarter after ten in the morning, Cary fell dead asleep at the wheel. Since leaving Wheeling, West Virginia, he'd been driving for fifteen hours straight, stopping only to gas up at truck stops and sit in traffic in Indianapolis.

He had no intention of sleeping, either, not while the kids were in danger. When waves of drowsiness washed through him, he blasted his radio, drank gallons of coffee, slapped himself in the face, and cranked the windows wide open to let in the cold air.

Again and again, he snapped himself out of tired spells. He kept racing down the long stretch from Indianapolis to St. Louis, then from St. Louis to Springfield, propelled by caffeine and visions of what Drill might do to Glo and Late.

But he finally slipped.

On the eternal flat between Springfield, Missouri and Tulsa, Oklahoma, Cary fell asleep. He was flying down Route 44, the Will Rogers Turnpike, when he dropped into a dream.

It was a new version of a dream he had often--the one about the Nuclear Family teaming up to battle a threat to America.

The whole team was there, and they all had real super powers. All the members of the Nuclear Family were grown-up, but the costumes they wore, the same costumes they'd worn as kids, still fit.

As Cary ran and fought alongside them, he was filled with pure joy.

We haven't been together for decades
, he said in the dream.

This is how we were meant to be
, said dream-Celeste/Spellerina.

We'll never be apart again
, said dream-Mom.

When the Nuclear Family saw the danger at hand, however, they all came to a sudden stop. They gaped at the enemies who had appeared before them, so startling in their twisted familiarity.

A group of six men and women floated in mid-air or ran in place on the front lawn of the White House. They could have been twins of the Nuclear Family...except that certain details were reversed.

For example, instead of having a mole on her right cheek, Maxi-Mom's twin had a mole on her left cheek. Spellerina's twin's hair was black instead of blonde.

The colors of their costumes were switched around, too. While Paisley/Moon Girl's leotard was black with a yellow cape, her twin's leotard was yellow with a black cape. The "S" on Spellerina's twin's chest faced the wrong way, as if it were seen in a mirror.

Reversoids
, said Father Law.
Our equal and exact opposites in every way.

Not just Reversoids
, said Baron/Musclebot.
Look there.

Cary shivered when he looked where Musclebot was pointing. Off to one side of the Reversoids, someone hovered in a floating chair. He waved when he saw the Nuclear Family looking at him.

Cary recognized him instantly, especially since he literally hadn't changed since childhood. The Nuclear Family and the Reversoids were grown-ups, but this one was still thirteen years old.

Thirteen years old with a horsey face and crooked teeth. And a wicked glint in his eyes.

That's Blacksheep. That's Grogan Salt.

It was the original Grogan, too, not a mirror image. The white "B" on the chest of his black costume faced the right way.

Blacksheep fired a flare gun into the air.
K-kill the Nuclear F-family! B-bring me their b-bones!

Just as the Reversoids shrieked and charged, Cary heard his cell phone ringing and woke up. His heart was pounding from the excitement in his dream, which had turned into a nightmare.

Then, his heart pounded harder from what he saw up ahead of him.

He was speeding head-on toward a tractor-trailer.

Reflexively, Cary jammed the accelerator to the floor and swung the steering wheel hard left. The tractor-trailer's horn roared, and the cell phone rang again.

Just in time, the taxi leaped clear, heading for the side of the road. As it flew across another lane on the way to the berm, the taxi was almost t-boned by an approaching car but darted out of the way unscathed.

The tractor-trailer barreled past with another blast of its horn. So did the car that had almost t-boned the taxi.

As the phone rang yet again, Cary slammed on the brakes and spun out the cab on the gravel berm. The cab's rear-end swept around, kicking up a cloud of dust, and finally came to rest.

Cary slumped back against the seat. The nose of the cab pointed down the road, facing the direction from which he'd come.

The phone rang again, and he grabbed it from the ash tray. His heart was jackhammering, his hands were shaking, and he was gasping for breath, but he had to pick up. The number on the caller I.D. screen was Glo's.

"Hello?" said Cary. "Hello?"

No one answered, but Cary thought he heard rustling noises on the line.

"Glo? What's wrong? Can't you talk?"

Cary heard more rustling, then a breath.

His imagination went berserk. Visions of Glo and Late burst into his mind, hurt and unable to talk on the cell phone...able only to dial it.

"Please say something," he said. "Tell me you're all right, Glo."

Another breath. Then: "Is this The Hurry?"

Cary's blood instantly turned to ice. He squeezed the phone so hard he thought it might snap.

He didn't recognize the voice on the phone.

It was the voice of a boy, but it wasn't Late and it wasn't anyone Cary knew.

What the hell's going on here?

"Yes." In spite of his rising panic, Cary tried to stay calm on the phone. "This is The Hurry."

"I have a message for you." The boy on the phone sounded like he could be anywhere between eight and twelve years old. "It's from Glo and Late. It's important."

Oh my God.

"Are they all right?" Cary leaned forward. "Where are they?"

"Mexico," said the boy. "The phone won't work there. That's why Glo gave it to me. I'm in Arizona."

Smart girl, Glo.
"What's the message?"

"Rocky Point. They're goin' to Rocky Point."

"What else?" said Cary. "What else did she tell you?"

"Nothin'," said the boy. "G'bye."

"Wait!" Cary rubbed the Starbeam Ring with his thumb. "Are you sure there wasn't anything else?"

"That's it," said the boy. "I only talked to her a minute in McDonald's. She said I could keep the phone as long as I called and gave you the message. Then her dad came and got her."

Cary hated the thought of Drill dragging around Glo. "But she was okay when you last saw her?"

"I guess so," said the boy. "Gotta go now."

"What about her brother?" said Cary. "What about Late?"

This time, he got no answer to his questions. The boy on the phone had already hung up.

Damnit!

Cary threw his cell phone across the cab and smacked his fist on the dashboard.

At least he knew Glo and Late were alive. He knew where Crystal and Drill were taking them.

But until he got to Rocky Point, he was completely cut off from them. He would have no idea if they were okay or if something bad had happened to them.

He wouldn't hear their voices again until he rescued them.

All the more reason to get rolling. He put the taxi in gear, waited for traffic to clear, and headed for the median strip. The sooner he crossed to the other side of the highway and started driving in the right direction, the sooner he'd get to Glo and Late.

At least it wasn't likely he'd fall asleep and swerve into the path of a tractor-trailer anytime soon.

One thing was for sure. He was wide awake now.

*****

Chapter Eleven

Akron, Ohio, 2006

In the split-second it took for the speeding car to dive-bomb past Celeste, she recognized her sister behind the wheel, black hair flying and leopard-print sunglasses glinting.

Celeste wasn't totally surprised to see her. After all, she was on the street in Akron, Ohio where Paisley lived. On the other hand, she was alarmed by Paisley's high rate of speed.

Is there an emergency?

Celeste chucked the wheel hard to the left and swung her Hyundai around in a tight U-turn. There wasn't quite enough street for the full turn, so the passenger side tires had to ride up over the curb to make it.

When all four tires were back on the street, Celeste stomped on the accelerator. She didn't usually drive like a maniac, but Paisley was the one she'd come to see. Paisley was the first stop in Cary's secret plan.

Paisley could mean the difference between finding Cary and never seeing him again.

Up ahead, Celeste saw Paisley's blue Toyota barrel left around a corner. Celeste made the same turn just a few seconds behind.

Paisley hurtled through a stop sign at what Celeste guessed was at least sixty miles per hour. A white pickup in the cross street of the intersection had to brake fast to avoid hitting her.

Celeste kept the accelerator down and flew along in her sister's wake. Holding her breath, she followed her through another stop sign around a right turn, then did the same again.

The next turn they made was trickier. Paisley slowed for just a heartbeat before flying right onto a busy four-lane. Celeste got cut off by traffic and had to wait. When she finally made it out onto the road, Paisley was four car-lengths ahead of her.

Celeste darted into the left lane, which was moving a little faster than the right. She drew up to the rear corner of Paisley's Toyota, almost reaching the driver's side window...but the right lane picked up speed, and Paisley pulled away from her.

Someone up ahead was making a left turn, and Celeste fell back even further than before. When her lane started moving again, she guessed she was ten car lengths behind. She was far enough back that she was starting to have trouble keeping Paisley's car in her sights.

Celeste blew out her breath in frustration.
If only I had a working magic wand handy.

If Spellerina were here, she'd turn this traffic into butterflies.

Just then, Celeste's lane picked up speed. Gradually, she gained on Paisley.

When Celeste finally slid up alongside her sister's car, she laid on the horn. Paisley looked over, and her eyebrows leaped up in surprise.

Celeste pointed toward the side of the street. "Pull over." She overenunciated each word so Paisley could lip read what she was saying. "Pull over."

Paisley got the idea. Nodding, she guided the blue Toyota into the parking lot of a shopping center and zipped into a space at the lot's edge. Celeste glided in beside her, then jumped right out of her car.

As Celeste hurried over, Paisley rolled down the driver's side window. "Not havin' a good day here, sis," she said.

"Jeez!" said Celeste. "Where's the fire?"

Paisley took off her leopard-print sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. "Where
isn't
the fire, is more like it."

Celeste felt angry and confused after chasing her sister through the suburbs of Akron. She also couldn't help being happy to see her.

Celeste hadn't seen Paisley for almost a year. They stayed in touch by phone but hardly got together anymore...mainly because of Paisley's asshole control-freak husband, Mitch.

Celeste liked to call him something else, something that rhymed with Mitch.

"Did Bitch send you out for cheesecake?" Celeste leaned against the roof of Paisley's car. "I know he doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Hey, that reminds me of a funny story." Paisley patted down her flyaway black hair and tried to smooth it out. "Husband goes to work one morning. Wife's gone when he gets back, and he never sees her again." Paisley chuckled and nodded. "Pretty funny, huh?"

Celeste frowned. "Sure, that's funny."

Paisley laughed harder. "You better believe it is! Just imagine that poor S.O.B. wondering where she went for the rest of his life!" The laughing caught hold and intensified. "He's left standing there with his mouth drooping open and his saggy dick in his hand!"

That was when Paisley finally lost it altogether. Her body shook and heaved as she erupted in uncontrollable howls of laughter, each one wilder than the last.

"Maybe not
that
funny," said Celeste.

"Wait wait wait! I didn't get to the punchline yet!" Paisley reached down beside her for the door handle. Celeste had to jump back as she threw the door open wide.

Paisley swung out one leg, then wriggled and twisted to force the other leg out after it. Bracing herself on the steering wheel and seat, she managed to push her body up out of the car. "Ta-Da!" she said, flinging her arms up in the air. "Whatta ya think?"

Celeste just stood and stared, her eyes fixed on Paisley's belly.

It was much bigger and rounder than usual.

"P-pregnant?" That was the only word Celeste could manage to stammer at the moment.

"Tell me the truth, Sis," said Paisley. "Is this a great punchline or what?"

 

*****

 

Celeste watched her sister as if she were some kind of alien life-form. The truth was, if someone had said that the Paisley in front of her was from another planet, Celeste would've been inclined to believe it.

Where was the Paisley she knew? What had happened to low-key, don't-make-waves Paisley, the sensible, stay-put sister? For that matter, what had happened to Paisley the sister who wasn't pregnant?

Who are you and what have you done with my Paisley?

Sitting across the table from her in a burger joint, Celeste tried to get used to the changes. Paisley had not been so effusive, so colorful and erratic, since childhood. She hadn't shown so much open emotion in years...and, well, she had
never
acted so outright
whacky
.

"What better time to leave a husband than when you're eight and a half months pregnant with his child?" Paisley winked and took another bite from her hamburger.

"How come you didn't tell me?" said Celeste.

"Gee, I don't know." Paisley tapped her lips with an index finger and stared at the ceiling. "Could it have something to do with my being held prisoner in my own home for the last eight and a half months?"

Celeste frowned and leaned closer. "What're you talking about?"

"I've been under house arrest, sweetie," said Paisley. "Only the cops and courts didn't have anything to do with it."

"What?" Celeste shook her head. "But I've talked to you on the phone."

"Shackled in the basement with Mitch standing two feet away," said Paisley. "Didn't you think I sounded a little more tight-lipped than usual?"

Celeste thought back. The truth was, she'd only called Paisley once a month or so, and no...she hadn't noticed anything different. She hadn't been
trying
to notice anything different, though.

"Oh my God." Celeste reached across the table and laid a hand on Paisley's arm. "Are you
serious
?"

Paisley popped the last bite of burger into her mouth and nodded emphatically as she chewed. "Today was my big
prison
break
. Why'd you think I was drivin' so fast?"

"Holy shit," said Celeste. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"Hey, you're not the only one who missed the hint." Paisley shrugged. "At least I put the time to good use. Got a hell of a lot of reading done."

"This is too weird," said Celeste. "First Cary drops off the face of the Earth, and now this."

Paisley frowned. "Oh yeah?"

"He didn't call or anything," said Celeste. "His trailer's completely empty. You haven't heard from him, have you?"

"Not for years."

"I figured." Celeste clicked a bright red fingernail on the yellow plastic tabletop. She hadn't gotten around to removing the nail polish from her date the night before. "Thing is, he left behind a secret plan, and you're the first stop."

Paisley snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Beats me," said Celeste. "The plan's in the form of a series of clues."

"Typical Cary," said Paisley.

"The first clue led me to you, but I can't figure out the second clue. I'm hoping you can solve it."

"Well let's get right on that." Paisley fluttered her eyelashes and bobbed her head from side to side. "I've got nothing else going on right now."

"I need to find him, Paisley. I have a feeling he's in trouble."

"Can't argue with that," said Paisley. "Your sixth sense did such a great job figuring out I was held prisoner by my own husband for the last eight and a half months."

"Look," said Celeste. "Can I at least get your take on the clue he left? It doesn't make sense to me."

Paisley wiped her mouth with a napkin, then balled it up and dropped it on the table. "I'd like to, but I have to get going. Once the big psycho gets home and realizes I'm gone, which'll happen in about an hour, he'll be tracking me down like you wouldn't believe."

"Then why don't you come with me?" Celeste wrapped a hand over Paisley's fist on the table and squeezed. "We can look for Cary together."

Paisley thought for a moment, then nodded. "I've gotta warn you about something first, though."

"What is it?" said Celeste.

"I'm losing my freakin' mind." Paisley's smile was sweet to the point of hysteria, as if she were barely keeping herself from breaking down in tears or screams. "Actually, it might be more accurate to say I've already lost it."

Celeste shrugged and let go of Paisley's fist. "Whatever you say." Her casual attitude was contrasted with her true level of concern for her sister.

The part about losing her mind didn't seem all that hard to believe.

"So what's the clue?" said Paisley.

Celeste opened Cary's secret plan notebook and flipped to page two. "'Go to the one who baa baa baa'd after Blacksheep's sixteen stitches,'" she read.

"That's easy," said Paisley...but then she looked lost in thought for a long moment. When she spoke again, she sounded more subdued than before. "Where's our asshole older brother live these days?"

"Erie," said Celeste. "Baron lives in Erie, Pennsylvania."

"Then that's where we've gotta go." Paisley sighed. "Unfortunately."

 

*****

Chapter Twelve

Johnstown, Pennsylvania, 1977

Cary spent the night on a wet cot that he hadn't made wet. It was the worst night's sleep he could remember having had in his whole life.

The sheets and mattress were soaked. They smelled like pee, and he knew whose pee it had to be.

That made it all the worse.

And yet, Cary lay there and said nothing. He was afraid that if he tried to explain to Lydia or E.Q., they wouldn't believe him.

After all, they hadn't believed him when he'd said he hadn't stolen the five hundred dollars. Why should they believe that he wasn't the one who'd wet his own cot?

Apparently, the fact that they'd known him for many years and had just met Grogan didn't count for anything. Cary's long record of good behavior was meaningless now.

It was no wonder he didn't get more than a few minutes' sleep at a time.

While Cary lay there in Grogan's pee, he thought often about waking up Celeste and Paisley and telling them what had happened. They, at least, would believe him and try to help him.

The problem was, their idea of helping might be to bring Lydia and E.Q. into the picture. That would just lead to Cary being blamed for wetting the bed and would leave him in the middle of a big mess all over again.

Which was exactly what Blacksheep Grogan wanted, of course.

Cary had to be smarter than that. He had to remember the lessons he'd learned from his comic books on how to match wits with an arch-nemesis.

Sometimes it's smarter to let the bad guy think he's winning. It gets him to let his guard down.

Plus which, as awful as it was to spend the night in the wet bed, Cary got something valuable out of the whole experience.

He got a ton of motivation. He already had a lot after being framed for stealing E.Q.'s money, but now he had a million times more. A billion.

Blacksheep had singled out Cary, who was five years younger than he was. Maybe he thought he'd have an easier time picking on a little kid, taking out the weakest one first.

Guess again, Blacksheep. You made a huge mistake the day you crossed The Hurry.

While Cary lay there that night, suffering in silence, he spent hours dreaming up ways he could prove it. Over and over again, he made the same promise to himself.

I'll beat Blacksheep if it's the last thing I do.

 

*****

 

The next morning, of course, Grogan acted like nothing had happened and he was totally innocent. He even made a special breakfast of Belgian waffles for the whole family.

Cary got the biggest helping but didn't eat a bite. As always, he stuck with his cereal while everyone else gorged on Grogan's cooking.

After breakfast, while Grogan was out of the house with Lydia, Cary told Celeste what had happened. To say the least, she was horrified; Cary had to talk her out of doing something rash to retaliate.

Then, she and Paisley helped him clean up the cot as best they could. They stripped off the sheets, put them in the washing machine, and scrubbed down the cot mattress with soapy water. They sprayed it with Lysol, dried it some with hair dryers, and flipped it over. It was still full of pee, but at least it might be bearable...and it might be enough to fool Lydia for a while.

When that was all finished, they called an emergency meeting of the Nuclear Family kids.