Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins (37 page)

“It didn't take long for me to realize that
my weapons were completely inadequate. The other night, when you
were fighting off that rynolt, did you see the darts I was
shooting?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I mean . . . not up
close or anything.” She timidly added, “I was a little busy.”

Ryannon chuckled and sat back down next to
her. “Yeah, I guess you were. Anyway, they're called spike darts.
They were the first weapon I ever invented when I was about four
years old.”

“Four?” Maggie gasped.

“Uh huh. My father was so impressed, that he
immediately recruited an elite group of tutors for me . . . masters
in the fields of engineering, weaponry and warfare. Great start for
a four year old child, huh?” He seemed to be lost in his thoughts
for a moment. “I've been referred to as the 'Brashnellan Minister
of Defense' since I was ten. I've developed hundreds of weapons . .
. weapons that I was convinced were made for the purpose of
defending Brashnell, not for senseless murders. That thing my
father used on Linetal . . . it's called a vystoran . . . one of my
most deadly and horrific inventions.” He looked down in shame.

“But you didn’t use it,” she tried to
soothe, “your father did.”

Ryannon glanced up and their eyes met.
Maggie felt as though she was being pulled into his beautiful eyes
by a magnetic force. They didn’t say a word as they moved closer
and closer to each other. Ryannon lifted his hand and placed it
gently on her cheek. Their lips were about to touch when Ryannon
stopped, pulled back, and sprung to his feet. “Wait,” he exclaimed,
“your father! When did you see him last?”

Maggie shook her head, flustered by the
abrupt change of mood.

“Didn't you hear him?” Ryannon blurted. “He
said that his spies were on their way to Drolana to get Atoc
Jonathan. If the Trystas thought you were Atoh Audril, then they
think your father is . . . .”

“DROLANA IS EARTH?” Maggie screeched, also
jumping to her feet.

Ryannon nodded. “You've got to get to your
dad before they do! Here.” He reached into his jacket pocket and
pulled out a thin, black metal box. He opened it and took out a
tiny, square, wafer-like object and handed it to Maggie.

“What is it,” she asked.

“This is an inhibitor. The only way they can
get him here is the same way they got you. An inhibitor will render
the receptors useless.” He added, “I went to work on them just as
soon as you left me the last time. They haven't been tested, but
they're all we've got. It's imperative that the inhibitor be placed
first, though . . . before any receptors are. I haven't been able
to come up with one that will reverse a prior placement.”

“W . . . wait! What do I do with it?” Maggie
was becoming more and more frightened by the second. What if they
were already too late? What if Darian's spies had already found her
dad? What if they'd already . . . ?

Ryannon could see that she was beginning to
panic. “Maggie, it's easy! All you have to do is get him to ingest
it.”

“What,” she blurted, “he has to swallow it?
How am I supposed to get him to do that?”

“Just drop it in a drink. It dissolves in
water.”

“But, what if they already . . . .”

Ryannon put a comforting
hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me. You can't lose hope.
When
you
travel
between Dro . . . um . . . I mean Earth and Lor Mandela, it's
instant, right?”

Maggie nodded.

“It takes the Travelers hours to get
there.”

This did little to calm her. “But . . . but
the last time I saw my dad was this morning when he dropped me off
at school.”

“Okay, and where did he go from there?”

“To work. Why?”

“Is this work in a public place?”

“I . . . I guess,” she explained. “There are
maybe 20 people or so in his office.”

Ryannon smiled. “See now,
even the
spies
among the Travelers are leery of being seen on another world.
They won't risk it unless he's alone,
and
unless it appears that he will
be alone long enough for them to do what they need to
do.”

Maggie felt a little better but was still
teetering on the verge of tears. “Ryannon,” she breathed, “you said
they were ordered to kill him on sight. What if they don't bring
him back? What if they just kill him there?” Her voice was weak and
shaky.

Ryannon looked into her
eyes. “They won't,” he assured. “Didn't you hear what my father
said? He said that his spies were on their way to Drolana to
bring
Atoc Jonathan back
to him. You saw what he did to Linetal. My father makes it very
clear to his generals that if they don't follow his instructions to
the letter, they won't live to make the mistake again. They're
bringing him back here, Maggie, and I promise, if they happen to
get to him before you do, I'll do
everything
in my power to keep him
safe.”

Maggie nodded slowly and blotted a stray
tear with her index finger. “Th . . . thanks, Ryannon.”

He smiled, and ran his hand gently down the
side of her cheek. “You’re welcome,” he whispered softly. All at
once, his face became serious and his breathing heavier, as he slid
his hand back from her cheek and through her raven curls.

Maggie’s breath deepened, matching the
intensity and rhythm of his. His hand moved through her hair,
slowly down her back and wrapped around her waist as he locked her
in an intense smoldering stare and leaned towards her.

“Kiss me,” he begged in a breathless
whisper.

Maggie’s breath caught in her chest. She
moved closer and closed her eyes as she felt his lips softly brush
against hers. Time stood still, and everything except the two of
them disappeared from the world. She didn't hear the whoosh, or see
the flash this time. As Ryannon unwrapped his strong arms from
around her and stepped away, she opened her eyes, and was stunned
to find that she was standing near the door of the girls' locker
room—right where she'd vanished from earlier.

It took her a moment to get oriented; she
was in complete emotional overload. Suddenly, she noticed the time
on the clock above the door—4:24. Her dad would be leaving his
office and heading for home any minute now. “The inhibitor,” she
gasped, opening her fist to verify that the little wafer was still
there before sprinting out of the locker room and up the steps.

School had been out for over an hour, so the
halls were deserted. She burst through the brown double doors and
down the front steps.

“Maggie!” Bridgette and Holden raced toward
her from the parking lot, but she strategically jumped to one side
and kept running—right past them. “Maggie . . . wait,” Bridgette
yelped. “Where are you going?”

“I have to get to my dad! There's no time to
explain!” She sprinted across the grassy lawn, through the parking
lot, and out toward the highway that ran in front of the school.
She would have kept on running—right across it—had she not heard
Bridgette yell, “You live seven miles from here, ya goon! Are ya
gonna run the whole way, or would you like a ride?”

Maggie spun around, confused. Bridgette
didn't have a car. Her mom picked her up every day. She glanced
questioningly at Bridgette and then noticed Holden, who was smiling
and dangling a set of keys in his hand. “Let's go, Blue!”

M
aggie rushed back across the parking lot toward Holden and
Bridgette.

“Over here,” Bridgette directed, pointing to
one of the only three cars still parked in the lot.

Maggie stopped and her jaw dropped.
Bridgette was pointing at an amazingly gorgeous, black convertible
sports car. “Whoooa! That's yours?” she gasped, eyeing Holden in
disbelief.

Holden shrugged his shoulders and pushed a
button on a black key fob that dangled near the top of his
conglomeration of keys. There was a quick triple chirp, and the
headlights of his one-of-a-kind custom two-seater blinked from left
to right and then right to left. Bridgette ran around to the
passenger side, pulled open the door and motioned to Maggie to join
her; they quickly piled into the seat together.

Holden didn't bother with his door. He
jumped over the side of the car and landed squarely in the seat.
“Buckle up, groovy dudes,” he yelled as he shifted gears and
screeched out of the parking lot.

Bridgette gave Maggie a playful hug.
“Welcome back,” she yelled to be heard over the roar of the car.
“So, where'd ya go this time?” She winked at Maggie as she
struggled to fasten a seat belt over them both.

Maggie sighed. It was such a relief to have
someone on Earth who finally believed her. “It's a long story,
Bridgey! Right now I have to get to my dad! Darian . . . this
completely horrible man . . . has spies coming after him, right
now! They can't find him! They just can't!!”

Holden and Bridgette both looked over at
Maggie as though she'd said something too impossible to
believe.

“Duuuudes!
” Holden hollered,
stomping down on the gas pedal. “We gotta jam! Which
exit?”

“Mansfield!” Bridgette and Maggie replied in
unison.

He flew down the freeway at easily ninety
miles per hour, masterfully weaving in and out of the few cars on
that stretch of highway. As they approached the Mansfield exit, he
wrenched the steering wheel to the side, sending them screeching
and skidding across two lanes. Maggie grabbed at the dashboard and
Bridgette shrieked. Holden just grinned, and nonchalantly
maneuvered the car like a pro, skillfully avoiding a slow-moving
Freightliner that was coasting along in the right lane. “Where to?”
he yelled as they soared down the ramp.

The stunned girls just pointed. A few
minutes later—following continued navigational pointing—they pulled
up in front of Maggie's house and squealed to a stop. Holden again
dismounted his ride by leaping over the door. He ran to the
passenger side and let Bridgette and Maggie out, and together, they
all ran across the front lawn, jumped on to the porch, and exploded
through the front door.

“Dad?” Maggie called out, “Dad!”

She ran into the kitchen, followed by Holden
and Bridgette. There, they found Nathan, sitting at the dining
table with a sober look on his face. He didn't seem at all
surprised that three frantic, winded teenagers had just burst into
the room.

“Da . . . dad?” Maggie huffed.

He looked up and slowly answered, “Hey,
Smaggs. Ya know that thing that happened to you? With the lights in
your room?”

“Dad, what? What is it,” she snapped
impatiently.

“I just had the weirdest thing happen.”

Maggie's heart and stomach dropped into her
toes. “Uh, Dad? Wh . . . what're you talking about?”

Nathan turned his head toward the back patio
door and with a confused frown, explained, “I was hungry and
decided to make myself a ham sandwich. These weird little lights .
. . they started flying around outside the back door.” He pointed,
indicating exactly where the phenomena had taken place. “At first,
there were only a few of 'em. But then, a bunch more showed up. You
all musta scared 'em though, 'cause when you guys came in they flew
off.”

Maggie looked at Holden and then at
Bridgette. They both appeared as concerned as she felt.

“Oh, okay . . . um dude,” Holden asked
apprehensively, “did the walls shake?” He glanced nervously at
Maggie and added, “uh, ya know . . . like hers did?”

“Whattya mean, duuuuude?” Nathan quipped.
Maggie couldn't believe that in the midst of all this, he was still
trying to be cool. “Whattya mean, did they shake? What in devil's
name is going on?”

Holden didn't answer. He was distracted by
Maggie, who'd gone over to the cupboards, pulled out a glass, and
was standing at the sink filling the glass with tap water. She
didn't even try to hide the inhibitor as she dropped it in and
swirled it around. “Dad, you've got to drink this . . . now!”

“What? No. I just downed a soda. I'm not
really thirsty, Smaggs.”

“This has nothing to do with being thirsty,
Dad,” she insisted. “Please, just drink it.”

“Yeah dude, please,” Holden chimed in, “it's
kinda a life or death . . . thing!”

Nathan's eyes grew wide.

“Er, at least I think it is. I mean . . . ya
know . . . kinda?”

Nathan glanced from Holden to Maggie, who
was still holding the glass of water out in front of him, staring
at him pleadingly.

“Okay, fine! I'll drink it.”

She handed him the glass, and then glared at
Holden. He knew something—something about Lor Mandela and all of
the stuff that was going on; that much was obvious. He understood
way too much.

“So, Holden,” she tried, “why does it matter
. . . I mean, if the walls shook or not?”

The look on Holden’s face confirmed that he
was hiding something. “It means that they came through 'em,” he
resigned.

Nathan, Maggie and Bridgette all turned and
stared at him, gaping.

“How on Earth do you know that?” Bridgette
mumbled. “What’s going on?”

Holden ignored her and tried again. “Did
they shake, Mr. B? The walls?”

Nathan grimaced. “Uh, no. I don't think
so.”

His answer sent a flood of relief coursing
through Maggie, but it only lasted for a moment.

Whooosh…whoooooosh!

This time, the sound came so loudly that no
one within a quarter mile could've missed it.

“No! No! Not now!” Maggie shouted in
panic—clapping her hands over her ears in an effort to shut out the
deafening noise.

Nathan panicked too. “Maggie, wait!” He
jumped up from his chair and grabbed her by the arm. “Leave her
alone! You can't have her,” he yelled frantically toward the
ceiling.