Gatekeepers (14 page)

CHAPTER

twenty -eight

W
ENDNESDAY, 12:14 P.M.

The wall tipped over, striking David's head. He crumpled onto his hands and knees. The wall slammed into the hall-way wall, angling from the floor like the side of a pup tent.

Xander had ducked, avoiding the wall by inches. Baboon Man squirmed on the ground toward Xander, whose ankle he continued to clasp with that bony, taloned hand. David hammered the rifle butt into the man's skull.

The guy twisted his face toward David. He growled like a dog and snapped his mouth open and closed. David gave the guy's forehead a quick, hard jab. His head dropped to the floor.

The wall suffered another devastating blow from the stair-case side. Chunks of plaster fell—one giving David another firm knock on the head.

“Xander,” he said, “we have to get out of here. The whole wall's coming down.”

Dust stung his eyes, filled his already aching lungs. He coughed.

Xander yanked his ankle out of the baboon's claw. He helped David stand, gave him a push, and said, “Go!”

Together they staggered through the secret door into the second-floor hallway.

“Toria, shut the door,” David said, panting. “It's not going to stop them, but still . . .” He rubbed his head where the wall and the plaster had hit it. Between his arm, his head, and his bruised backside, he felt like he had just climbed out of a clothes dryer.

Toria swung the door shut, and the latch clicked.

A crash came from the other side, and this outer wall, decorated to look like any other in the hallway, buckled toward them. It cracked from floor to ceiling, and the secret door popped open.

Toria screamed. David grabbed her shoulder, Xander grabbed David's, and they backpedaled past the MCC.

“What are they doing?” David said.

Xander said, “When the wall collapsed, it made the door opening too small for Phemus to fit through. Now he has to come
through
the walls.”

“What do we do?” Toria said.

Before they could answer, an explosion erupted at the end of the short hallway. The entire wall fell forward, creaking and cracking. Sparks flashed as electrical wiring broke. The lights went out. Sunlight from the foyer and the open MCC door revealed the wall crashing to the floor, followed by the second wall; it landed on top of the first one. A massive dust cloud billowed up, as though a giant hand had slapped a pile of baby powder. It roiled in the hallway, coming at them like a sandstorm.

Xander said, “Run!”

He grabbed Toria's hand, and they ran around the corner into the second floor's main hallway.

David's legs froze. He watched as a figure stirred in the dust cloud. It became more distinct, solidifying into arms, legs, a head. To the left of this silhouette, the other big man stepped out of the haze. He was grinning and taking long, crunching strides toward him.

David's legs broke from the invisible cement that had bound them, and he ran. He called out, “The closet!”

Xander and Toria skidded to a stop at the head of the grand staircase.

“School's in session,” Xander said. “We can't—”

“Yes, we can!” David said. “Two of those guys are too big to fit in the locker. The other might be out cold. Who cares if people wonder where we came from?”

The two men trudged around the corner.

Toria screamed, pulled her hand out of Xander's, and bolted down the stairs.

“Wait!” David said. “Toria!”

Xander grabbed for her, but her legs were moving like a race car's pistons; she was almost to the bottom before he took a single step. The brothers threw panicked glances at each other and tore after her.

Toria reached the front door and yanked on it. It didn't open.

David pushed ahead, thumbed the dead bolt, and opened the door. He grabbed his sister's wrist and flung her through the opening. She leaped off the porch. Xander turned in the doorway, and both boys looked up to the top of the stairs.

The hulking men glowered down at them. Their chests rose and fell. Their eyes, dark under heavy brows, blinked, blinked, as though they were unaccustomed to the bright sunlight.

Xander stepped forward into the foyer.

David touched his arm. “Xander?” he whispered.

His brother straightened his spine, squared his shoulders. “You!” he said, pointing at Phemus.

David remembered what Xander had said about the poster he'd seen: Odysseus challenging the Cyclops.

Xander said, “Where's our mother? Bring her back! Just . . .” His voice cracked. His breathing was fast and shallow. His next words were menacingly quiet. “Bring her back.”

David was afraid his brother was going to rush the guy. The last time they'd met, when the man had kidnapped Mom, all three of the King men—Dad, Xander, and David—had almost died. And Xander had been armed with a metal bat. No way the outcome of a confrontation now could be any better. In fact, David was sure it would end up much worse.

He stepped closer and shifted the toy rifle to his left hand. He clasped the fingers of his right hand into Xander's waistband. “Xander, let's go,” he said. “Come on. This isn't a fair fight. It's not meant to be. We're supposed to lose.”

“We're not going to leave,” Xander told the man. His words sounded hard as rocks. “We're staying until our mother's back.” He started to turn, then said, “The next time I see you, I'll be ready.”

Without taking his eyes off Xander, Phemus began descend-ing the stairs. The wood under his bare feet creaked in protest. The other man grinned and trailed a step behind.

“Xander!” David said. He tugged his brother's pants, yank-ing him back—a step, then two, till they were on the porch. Toria stood in the woods, watching them.

Xander frowned at David. His eyes were red.

As David watched, a thick rivulet of blood from a cut above Xander's eye ran the curve of his brow, skirted the corner of his eye, and ran down his cheek. It would have made a great movie-tough-guy wound.

They looked through the open door. Here in the sun-light, the interior looked dark and gloomy. The sound of the men's plodding footsteps echoed out to them.

Xander gestured with his head. He whispered, “Let's go.”

CHAPTER

twenty -nine

W
EDNESDAY, 12:20 P.M.

David and Xander descended the porch steps. When they reached Toria in the woods, they turned back.

“Think they'll come out for us?” David said.

Xander shook his head. “That house is their leash. It's as far as their master will let them go.”

“Taksidian?” David said. He had heard Taksidian talking to Phemus the other day, when Clayton had chased David through the locker into the house.

“Who else?” Xander said. He still looked ready to rumble.

David thought it would be a short brawl if he and the big guy ever did tangle. He pointed at the blood on Xander's face. “What happened?”

Xander touched the cut and grimaced. He looked at his fingers. “The ladder,” he said. “When those guys pulled me off, it came down on my head.”

The shadows inside the doorway stirred. Phemus filled the opening. He scowled out at the daylight, caught sight of the kids, and glared at them.

“Are you sure about the leash?” Toria said.

“Yeah,” Xander said. “I'm starting to figure things—”

The brute stepped onto the porch.

Toria grabbed David's bicep. David gripped Xander's shirt.

“It's okay,” Xander said. “That's it. That's as far as he'll come.”

The man lumbered to the porch steps and started down.

Toria gasped.

“Ow, Toria,” David whispered. “Your nails are digging into my skin.”

“Get ready to run,” Xander said.

“Where to?” David said.

“Follow me. I have an idea.”

David nudged Toria. “You hear? Follow Xander. Don't run off like you did down the stairs.”

“I got scared,” she said.

“No kidding.”

They watched the man reach the dirt at the bottom of the steps. He turned back to his . . .
friend
was the word that came to David's mind, but it was a little like thinking of two killer Rottweilers as play-date pals.

“Let's get out of here,” Xander said, and took off.

David grabbed Toria's wrist and fell in behind. He looked back over his shoulder to see Phemus swing his arm in a
Come on!
gesture, but the smaller man backed away and disappeared in the gloom. It took Phemus all of three seconds to spot the kids and start after them.

Xander weaved through the trees and bushes, arcing around the side of the house.

The man's feet pounded the ground behind them, snapping twigs and ripping through the low bushes and rotting deadfalls the kids had jumped over.

“He's getting closer,” Toria said.

Xander picked up his pace. He said, “I didn't think that guy could move so fast.”

“Like you didn't think he could leave the house,” David said.

“All right, all right.” Xander angled around a thick bush.

“Anything else you think he
can't
do,” David said, “so I have a heads-up about what he's
going
to do?”

“We're about to find out,” Xander said.

They broke through a thick patch of bushes and stopped in the clearing. It was an oval-shaped meadow about half the size of a football field. Encircled by trees, the ground here was flat and uniformly covered with lush, green grass. The upper branches of the trees bent inward, hanging over the meadow's edges. The sky above was blue and streaked with clouds, as though brushed with white paint.

David and Xander had discovered the place on their second day in the house. Here, the air was peculiar, and their voices became squeaky, as though they were auditioning for the part of Mickey Mouse in a movie. They could also run faster and jump higher.

But Dad had shown them the clearing's real magic: here, they could
fly
. That was the best word David could think of . What else could you call rising above the ground and moving through the air without wings, wires, or equipment of any kind? But it wasn't just a question of taking off, the way birds fly. You had to find currents, like air currents, but they weren't windy. Then you had to step on them, ride them.

Uh-oh,
David thought. He whispered, “Xander, Toria can't do it. Remember?”

Xander had forgotten. He said, “Not at all? Toria?”

She gazed at the grass, shook her head.

“No, no,” Xander said. “That's okay.” His head snapped up. “Shhh.”

The sound of clomping feet grew louder.

Xander waved the others closer. He said, “Toria, try.” He looked David in the eyes. “David,” he said, “
fly
.”

CHAPTER

thirty

W
EDNESDAY, 12:32 P.M.

David dropped the toy rifle. He held his hands open to the ground as though he were mounting a skateboard. He lifted his foot and felt the air with it. Nothing. He moved deeper into the clearing.

Outside the ring of trees and heavy bushes, something crashed.

David's heart revved up. If he couldn't do it . . . if Toria couldn't . . . there was nowhere to hide. They would have to fight the man, which to David's perspective was like taking on Godzilla.

He felt the air with his foot again: searching for an invisible platform. He remembered thinking that Dad's ability to ride the clearing's currents was like standing on an escalator no one could see. With that image in mind, he raised his foot and tried to
stand
on the air. His foot stomped the ground. He tried again. No go. He sighed and looked over at Xander.

His brother was hovering four feet over the grass. His feet slipped one way and then the other. He zipped higher. He smiled; David remembered the clearing had a way of making them giddy and carefree. But they didn't dare laugh now, not with Phemus tromping around so near.

David swung his foot over the grass. Something snagged his ankle. His foot rose. When it reached the height of his chest, his other foot came off the ground as well. He pin-wheeled his arms and fell backward. He closed his eyes and pulled his cast in close to his chest, bracing himself for a crash. The impact never came.

He opened his eyes, turned his head. He was flat on his back, five feet off the ground. Using his stomach muscles, he forced his upper body into a vertical inclination. Now he was sitting—and more than fifteen feet in the air. He was drifting, rising like a balloon. He started moving his arms and legs as he would have in water. He shot forward, arched up, spiraled down.

Xander's waving caught his attention. His brother touched his finger to his lips and pointed at Toria. She was hopping up and down, stepping on currents that weren't there and generally throwing a quiet fit. The boys swam to her, converging above her shoulders.

“Toria,” Xander whispered.

She snapped her face up, startled to find her brothers hover-ing directly above her.

“Give us your hands,” David said.

She hesitated.

Xander said, “We won't drop you.”

The bushes rustled nearby.

Toria raised her arms and closed her eyes.

David gripped her wrist in both of his hands and squeezed.

“Not so hard,” she whispered.

He let up, but only a little. The image of his sister falling four stories tightened his stomach and made him want to clamp down even harder.

Xander got his hands around her wrists. They raised their heads, bringing their feet down, and kicked. Nothing happened. They kicked again and drifted up a few inches. Again—and another few inches.

“We have to do better,” Xander said. “He'll see us if we take too long.”

David nodded and closed his eyes. He imagined lifting his dad's barbells. He kicked and kicked, mentally bringing those barbells up from the bottom of a pool. Kick. Kick.