Blood Colony (28 page)

“Are your families provided for?” Mahmoud said.

Teferi looked crestfallen. “We must send them to Lalibela.”

Dawit’s oldest friend spoke Dawit’s mind before he could open his mouth.

“No,” Mahmoud said gently. “It is far too late for that.”

Tallahassee
11:05 a.m.

Y
ou heard me,” the man said.

Garrick Wright blinked. His eyes were still trying to take in the sight of the armed strangers behind his front door and the shambles in his living room. He had been at Publix for less than an hour, and he didn’t recognize his home. Tahira’s purse was on the floor, its contents spilled. The only thing still right was the smell of Tahira’s chicken stewing in the kitchen.

A man across the room was wearing an armor suit of Kevlar, and he had an assault rifle trained on Garrick. Four other men had assault rifles slung across their shoulders, hands ready to draw their sidearms. Someone took the heavy paper grocery bags from Garrick’s arms. He barely noticed. The stranger who had opened his door had a 9mm, but Garrick only stared at Tahira’s spilled purse. He saw her pale orange lipstick, her favorite, in a case the color of a pearl.

“No, I don’t think I did hear,” Garrick said, blinking again. His mind was a blank sheet. “Where’s my wife?”

The man with the 9mm had a gold badge hanging from his neck. His red-blond hair was a short military fuzz, and he had a long scar across his forehead that looked like he’d been in a knife fight. He spoke with condescending deliberation. “We have your wife in custody. Your wife is a Jordanian national. She is going on a terror list, and you will never see her again, if you don’t tell me everything you know about Glow.” He blew a large bubble, then sucked the air out, leaving the limp gum intact. “Did you hear me that time?”

Garrick felt a pain in his chest. Any other day, he would have been worried about a heart attack. Johnny must have something to do with this. “What’s happened?” Garrick said.

“Mr. Wright, let me explain something,” the man said. “You just applied for an exit visa to go to Jordan. The State Department has confirmed that your wife’s father had terrorist ties. We know you. We know your family.”

In college, Tahira’s father had joined a religious organization run by a Saudi man who’d become a terrorist decades later. Tahira’s father had only known the man six months, but the ancient affiliation had dogged him until he’d died. Tahira’s family had been on the U.S. government’s no entry list since Johnny was ten, after the business in Iraq had started everything. Until now, the problem had only created a morass of bureaucracy every time they’d wanted to plan a family visit, and Tahira had never been allowed to take citizenship. Now Garrick understood the true price.

The man with the 9mm took off his sunglasses. His irises were nearly colorless. “Given all that…Do you understand that my country is at war, and I don’t have the luxury of politeness?”

Garrick felt his life sinking away from him. He never should have trusted Lucas.

“I need my lawyer,” Garrick said.

The man’s eyes went cold. “I hope you’re too smart to fuck with me today, Professor.”

“Please let me see my wife,” Garrick said. He was begging the man.

The man gestured inside. “Let’s sit down and see if I can find her for you.”

The men and women crowding his living room wore jackets of many affiliations. Most notable to Garrick were the initials DEA and FBI. The man blowing bubbles wasn’t wearing a jacket to identify his branch, but Garrick knew he was DHS. Sometimes people disappeared after DHS interviews; anyone who watched the news knew that. He had written a half dozen letters to Congress to complain. The disappearances. The prisons no one could find. Those letters were probably in his file, too.

One of the agents, whose dress was shirt-and-tie FBI, held a sheaf of papers with newspaper clippings. Garrick recognized his own name and photo from a year-old copy of the
Tallahassee Democrat
. An editorial. “Lies behind the War!” screamed the headline. He’d hounded the newspaper with editorials since his retirement.

Was Tahira lost to them already?

“I won’t ask nicely again,” the DHS agent said. “Sit down.”

Garrick took the first seat he could find, at the edge of the piano bench. He had never sat at the bench before. The piano was Tahira’s.

The agent blew a bubble, sucked it dead. “Your son, John Jamal Wright, is wanted for questioning in a triple homicide.”

Although he was closer to tears, Garrick couldn’t help laughing, a reflex. “What?”

“Is that funny to you?”

It was hard to meet the agent’s eyes. “My son wouldn’t kill anybody.”

“The victims were Glow dealers,” the DHS agent said. He picked up a box of files Garrick recognized from his bedroom—his Glow archives.
Holy Lord, this looks bad,
Garrick realized. His throat burned.

“So it’s not funny now?”

“No,” Garrick said. He couldn’t bring himself to say
sir,
although he knew he should.

The agent leaned over Garrick, the old intimidation tactic that made men feel small. Garrick saw through it, but that insight didn’t help. “John was at a safe house in Arizona, and now the people who ran it are dead. John’s fingerprints are all over our crime scene.”

This person
John
must be someone else, Garrick thought.
Dear Lord, please don’t let Johnny have been anywhere near there. And if he was, Lord—please let him be all right.

The DHS agent went on. “We know John’s a good kid. No record, good grades. He wasn’t alone at the house, and maybe he’s no killer.”

“He’s not. My son wants to be a doctor.”

“That right?” The DHS agent’s icy eyes were unimpressed. “Then he probably doesn’t have anything to do with funding terrorists with drug money, or introducing bioweapons into our country through the drug trade. For your sake, let’s hope not. But John can help lead us to those people. So if you do the right thing today, you can expect your wife Tameka—or whatever her fucking name is—to be home before the falafels get cold.”

Garrick glanced at the photo of his family framed on the piano—him, Tahira and Johnny posing at the Sears store at Governor’s Square Mall. Johnny’s fifteenth birthday. Garrick ached to escape into that old captured moment.

Garrick had warned Johnny. He had
told
Johnny that prisons were the new Jim Crow. If Johnny made it through whatever had happened to him, a prison would knock the wrongheadedness out of him. At least he would have visitors. And basic rights. God only knew what might happen to Tahira, or where she would be sent.

“I’ll talk to you,” Garrick said. “Please just let her go.”

“Where is John now?”

Garrick shook his head. “I wish I knew.” Johnny’s roommate had finally called last night to ask where Johnny was. “He’s not at school. I was planning on calling the police.”

“Your son is missing…and you were
planning
to call the police?” the agent said, incredulous. “How long has John been dealing Glow?”

“I don’t…know if…,” Garrick said began. The DHS agent’s bicep tensed so suddenly that Garrick was sure he was about to hit him. “But there’s a girl,” Garrick went on quickly. “Caitlin O’Neal. If Johnny’s doing that, it’s because of her.”

A crowd gathered around the piano bench. Perspiration soaked Garrick’s armpits and thighs. The DHS agent spoke calmly, his jaw pounding his gum. “Tell us more about Caitlin O’Neal.”

“She’s…a friend of Johnny’s. They both went to Berkeley. But she dropped out.”

“Where is she now?”

“I don’t know.”

The agent’s features sharpened. “What
do
you know, Professor? Think fast.”

“There’s a…compound, like a commune.” A half dozen pairs of unblinking eyes told Garrick that he was about to tell them exactly what they wanted to hear. “It’s in the Pacific Northwest. Maybe…midway between Portland and Seattle. The Five corridor.”

Notebooks scribbled fiercely. An agent near the kitchen talked hurriedly on his radio.

“Be more specific,” the agent said.

“Two hours north of Portland, maybe. It’s in the woods. Hundreds of acres. That’s where John met Caitlin and her family. A friend of mine invited me out. Dr. Lucas Shepard. He said…he’d found a miracle.”

The room went so quiet that it was as if Garrick had been able to hear the thundering of all their hearts.

Garrick took a deep breath. His lungs were stone, unyielding.

Was he doing the right thing? Garrick didn’t care. It was the only thing.

“Tuesday night, I got a call…”

Desert Diamond Casino
San Xavier Reservation
South of Tucson
Noon

T
he twin concrete towers of the casino stood as if to defy the ornate white piety of the Moorish-styled Spanish mission that shared the reservation’s arid land; sin and salvation competing for souls.
The perfect place to look for a car,
Caitlin thought. Anyone inside a casino was begging to get robbed.

Charlie was waiting in the casino parking lot, his arms folded across his chest as he sat astride his idling black Kawasaki. He took an unlighted cigarette from his mouth and offered it to her. He was quick with his lighter; courtly. No wonder Fana liked him so much.

“Thanks,” Caitlin said. “Fana thought we’d lost you at the exit.”

Charlie smiled. “No one’s getting rid of me that fast.”

Halfway full, the parking lot had a glistening array of cars. Most were clustered near the modernistic casino’s entrance, but a few were parked farther out, isolated. Caitlin walked beside Charlie at a casual pace as they scouted. Charlie was such a comforting presence, the way Maritza had made her feel. A fellow soldier. She had been as relieved as Fana when Charlie’s motorcycle had drifted into her rearview mirror when they’d pulled off Highway 19. If Charlie had been gone, she would have had to make it to Mexico on her own, and she wasn’t sure she could.

She needed Charlie to help her keep the Railroad alive.

The PT Cruiser and its tag number had been announced on the radio a half hour ago on a Homeland Security bulletin, as if they were terrorists. The police had probably seen them drive away on a traffic camera, so it was a miracle they hadn’t been stopped on the highway. At least three highway patrol cars had passed them, each one making Caitlin’s heart hammer until she’d thought she would faint. But Fana had come through; the police had never slowed.

Caitlin had parked where the casino’s lot was most crowded, leaving Johnny and Fana in the car, and she didn’t dare leave them long. They were like children, especially Johnny. Johnny’s whining was getting on Caitlin’s nerves.

A 1990s gray Toyota RAV4, parked by itself on the far side, caught Caitlin’s eye. Maybe the driver had played all night, losing track of time.

“That one,” Caitlin said.

“You read my mind,
chica,
” Charlie said. He grinned, walking with a carefree bounce.

The RAV’s driver’s door wouldn’t open when Caitlin tugged on it, but the passenger side opened for Charlie. He let her in, and Caitlin took the driver’s seat. She wished she’d had her body puller to drill into the steering column; instead, she would have to try a dummy key. Caitlin flipped through her key ring, looking for the Toyota’s red ring. Filed keys didn’t work on newer models, but sometimes they did on ancient ones.

Caitlin took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

“You won’t need luck,” Charlie said.

He was right. The car turned over right away, sweet as a baby. The radio blared a plaintive trumpet from Tejano music. Caitlin turned the volume down, flipping to the AM news station she had been listening to while she’d driven.

“…this shocking story that is still developing,” the male newscaster’s somber voice said. “A Casa Grande family of three has been killed—a minister, her husband and their fourteen-year-old son. This case involves the illegal drug Glow, with federal authorities reporting possible terrorist connections. The alert level for all of Arizona is High. The Department of Homeland Security has issued a bulletin for a white PT Cruiser they believe is being driven by the suspects. California SXT555. The suspect’s names in this gruesome triple murder are Caitlin Gloria O’Neal, age twenty-one, and John Jamal Wright, age nineteen. For photos of the suspects, check out News 1180 on the Web…”

Caitlin was so shocked to hear her name on the radio that she couldn’t move.

“Fuck,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Her cover was blown. Mom and Casey might have heard her name all the way in South Africa, if it was on CNN.

“You’re underground for good now,
mia bambina,
” Charlie said.

Caitlin looked at Charlie and blinked, distracted by his eyes. His dark eyelashes were so long and plush that they looked feminine. His face was nearly as smooth as a woman’s, too. Caitlin couldn’t remember what Charlie had just said. Had he been speaking Italian?

“We have to get to Mexico,” Caitlin said. It was the only thing on her mind.

“And we will,” Charlie said. “But first, one small thing…”

Charlie leaned close, and his lips hovered near hers. Caitlin felt a strong instinct to pull back, but Charlie’s warm, flowing breath seemed familiar. His face felt smooth to her fingertips, smelling of vanilla and honey.
Maritza.
Charlie captured Maritza, somehow. Maritza’s breath, stolen from her and now returned, was dizzying. Caitlin felt faint, melting away from herself. Becoming. She leaned forward to kiss Charlie, but he pulled away before their lips touched.

“I need to know I can trust you, Caitlin,” Charlie said.

Caitlin couldn’t see through the tears clouding her eyes. She trembled. “I just want to keep Fana safe,” she said. Even if she was forgetting herself, she could never forget that.

“Then we want the same thing,” Charlie said. “Like we said, it’s up to us.”

Something cold touched Caitlin’s right hand. She looked down and saw that Charlie was offering her the shiny .38 he had found at the Rolfsons’ house, or claimed he had.

“Take it,” he said.

Caitlin clung to the gun with both hands. “Why?” she whispered.

Charlie touched her lips lightly with Maritza’s lips, his fingers grazing her with Maritza’s featherlike touch. “You’re going to help me,
mia bambina,
” he said.

“Oh, God. Oh,
shit
.”

Johnny was in the front seat, hunched over the radio dial. Fana was afraid he might pull out the clump of hair trapped between his fingers, or hyperventilate from breathing so fast. His thoughts were rioting inside the headache she’d had since Tucson. Fana considered a massage to quiet his thoughts, but she forced herself to resist. She tried to block him out instead.

“Johnny, calm down,” she said, struggling against her impulse to silence him.

“They’re saying I’m a terrorist!” he said. “Look at what Caitlin’s gotten us into!”

Fana leaned her head back against her seat.
Trance. Trance out.

Johnny turned to face her, leaning across his headrest. “I’m gonna’ get away from here, call my dad and get a lawyer. You have to come, too. I can’t leave you with her.”

“Caitlin needs me,” Fana mumbled. She felt herself drifting.

“
Listen to me,
” he said, nearly a roar. His eyes were red. “Do you have an ID card?”

Fana hesitated, then shook her head. Her parents had been careful to keep her out of official records. She’d never gotten a national ID card despite the new law five years ago, after Salt Lake City. Her passport, which she’d forgotten to bring with her, didn’t bear her real name.

Johnny reached over to grab her shoulders. “That means they don’t know your fingerprints! They don’t know your name. You can walk away. You can hide in the woods with your family. Forget about going to Mexico with Caitlin!”

Fana felt a tremor, and she knew she couldn’t argue. Her trip had been doomed before it had begun, from the instant she’d run into Aunt Alex. Fana never should have left her that way.

Johnny went on. “I don’t know Caitlin anymore, and I don’t trust Charlie. He gives me a bad feeling. As soon as I met that guy, a whole house full of people turned up dead.”

“That wasn’t Charlie’s fault.” She wished Johnny knew what Charlie had been through.

“I don’t know if it was his fault or not,” Johnny said. “When a day starts off this messed up, you change the company you’re keeping.” As Johnny ran his fingers through his hair, his breathing slowed. “I have a credit card. It’s in my dad’s name. We can find a phone. I can cut my hair, make it easier to hide.”

Johnny sounded more reasonable with every breath. Fana knew Johnny had only stayed this long because of her. She could use her gifts to keep people from noticing him, the way she had shrouded them from police on the highway. But as long as Caitlin believed the Life Brothers were their enemy, Caitlin couldn’t be trusted to devise their plans. And if the Underground Railroad had been compromised, the breach might have reached Mexico.

Johnny grasped Fana’s hand. His heartbeat pulsed through his damp, warm palms. “Fana, I know I’m fucked,” he whispered, his eyes fevered. “But you have a chance. Please let me help you out of this. I’ll never forgive myself if I leave you, but we have to go
now
.”

Fana clung hard to his hand. “Help me find something sharp.”

Johnny’s eyes dimmed, confused. “Why?”

Fana dropped Johnny’s hand and rooted around the backseat’s floor for a tool. She found candy bar wrappers. An ice scraper. Scattered coins. She kept a soda can aside; her receptacle. “I have to leave blood for her. Hurry.”

“Leave her…blood?”

Johnny’s mind clouded with confusion as he stared at Fana, and then knowledge dawned on him. Childlike amazement replaced the fear in his eyes.
Dammit
. Not only had she just broken her colony’s cardinal rule but she’d also paralyzed him. Would she have to try to make him forget later? Fana gave Johnny the most gentle massage she could, barely brushing his mind.
We have to hurry,
she whispered to his unconscious.

Johnny blinked, freed from his awe. He flung open the glove compartment, throwing aside papers and CDs. He pulled out a small pocket knife with a Boy Scout insignia.

“Yes!” Fana said. “Give it to me.”

Johnny gazed at the tiny knife in his palm, not moving again. As if he were made of stone. Exasperated, Fana probed toward his mind again, trying to whisper. She couldn’t find him. He was right in front of her, but her mind couldn’t feel a trace of Johnny Wright, as if he was as strong as Teka and had masked himself completely. Was she blocking her own gifts somehow because she knew she was abusing them?

A car engine gunned, and Fana looked out the rear window. Caitlin drove behind the PT Cruiser in a small gray SUV, and Charlie pulled up alongside her on his motorcycle. Charlie wasn’t gone, after all! At least Caitlin wouldn’t be alone.

Fana reached over and grabbed the knife from Johnny’s hand, shoving it into her back pocket. “We’ll get out of this,” Fana whispered to Johnny. “Don’t worry.”

Charlie knocked on her window, and Fana opened her door for him. Charlie kneeled to gaze at her at eye level, his face only two inches from hers. “You okay,
negra
?” Charlie said.

Now it was Fana who felt paralyzed. Her heart pounded as she gazed at the boy whose allure surprised her with its intensity. Charlie’s eyes were hard to blink away from. The idea of leaving him felt tragic.

“I can’t…go with you,” Fana said.

Charlie’s jaw flexed in anger. He glanced at Johnny, who was hanging his head. “Why?” Charlie said. “Because he said so?”

Caitlin’s window came down. “We have to
go,
” she hissed to Fana. “Come on!”

Charlie touched Fana’s face, and she rested her chin against his strong fingertips. “Does he think he’ll call his parents and make everything fine?” Charlie said. “These are feds after us. They already have his parents. I’m sorry to tell you, Fana, but they probably have yours, too. If they catch us, they’ll send us to dungeons where no one will see us again.”

Charlie didn’t know about the firefence. He didn’t know about the Life Brothers’ weapons. But he might be right about one thing: The police probably had questioned Johnny’s parents by now, and Johnny’s father had visited the colony. Even if Mr. Wright didn’t know exactly where it was, he knew enough. Homeland Security might send an army to Washington.

“I have to warn my family,” Fana said.

“
Sí,
” Charlie said, nodding. “And you can. In less than an hour. From
México
.”

“The Railroad has a sat phone in Nogales,” Caitlin called. “Fana, please hurry.”

Fana looked at Johnny, whose back was turned. The radio clamored Johnny’s name.

“What you think, Johnny?” Charlie said. “Convinced yet?”

Johnny stared at the windshield. “Mexico it is,” he said in a dead voice.

Why had Johnny given up so easily? Fana probed Johnny again, and this time no invisibility blocked her. Johnny’s anger churned loud and clear. Johnny thought she had betrayed him, and now he felt trapped.
I won’t let anything happen to you, Johnny,
she whispered to him in the hidden recesses he might uncover only when he slept.

Charlie smiled at Fana. “I’ll ditch my bike and ride in the car. Would that be better?”

Fana hadn’t thought anything could make this day feel better, but she wanted Charlie closer to them. She didn’t want to keep looking out for him, wondering if he was in danger. Teka had taught her that Khaldun had stayed with the Life Brothers for more than five hundred years, postponing his Rising, because he had given them the Living Blood, so he considered them his responsibility. Caitlin, Johnny and Charlie were
her
responsibility.