Mountain of Black Glass (75 page)

“My dear Señor Izabal, we have no choice,” Sellars told him. “This place is not safe for us any longer. Do not fear—I am going, too. Major Sorensen is going to protect us.”

“Major Sorensen,” the white guy cop said, scowling, “is beginning to think that a court-martial and firing squad might be a less painful alternative.”

 

It took them a couple of hours to clean everything up. The little girl's father didn't want them to leave anything behind.

“But surely we are only slowing ourselves down,”
El Viejo
said, but mildly, the same way he talked to Cho-Cho.

“Look, if someone finds this place and sees someone has been living here, they'll go over every square inch with a particulator. They'll find stuff from you, but they'll find stuff from my daughter and now me, too. Forget what I said before—I may be committing career suicide, but I'd prefer it wasn't the other kind as well.” The man named Sorensen took apart the old man's wheelchair and put the pieces into bags, which he hauled up out of the tunnel two at a time. Next he took a folding shovel and went off to dig a hole in the grass a long way from the concrete building that hid the tunnel entrance. When it was done, he came back and took away the chemical toilet to empty it into the hole.

When the toilet and the little stove and the old man's other stuff were all loaded into the van outside, he made Cho-Cho and Sellars lie down between the back seats so they would be hidden. At first the man tried to get Cho-Cho to give up the homemade knife, but Cho-Cho wasn't taking
that
credit, and at last he gave up and let him keep it.

“If we stop, don't make a noise,” Sorensen said as he pulled a blanket over them. “I don't care what happens, don't you even breathe.”

Cho-Cho was still not sure he trusted any of this, but the old man wasn't kicking about it, so he decided to go along. The van only drove for a little while. When it stopped and the blanket was pulled away, they were in somebody's garage.

“Mike?” A woman was standing in the doorway, wearing one of those night-time robes like the ladies on the netshows. “You were gone so long—I was worried.” She sounded more like she was about to scream, but she was trying hard. “Is everything all right?”

“It took a while to get the place cleaned up,” he grunted. “Oh, and we have an additional guest.” He took Cho-Cho by the arm, a strong grip but not too rough, and hoisted him out of the van. Cho-Cho shook him off. “Sellars here forgot to mention that he had company.”

“Oh, dear.” The woman stared at Cho-Cho. “What are we going to do with him?”

“Mess with me, I'll six you,
ma'cita.
” Cho-Cho gave her his best cold stare.

“There isn't room for him in the compartment, so he'll have to ride with us.” The man shook his head. “I guess if anyone asks, we'll have to say he's Christabel's cousin or something.”

“Not looking like that, he wouldn't be.” She frowned, but it wasn't the angry kind. Cho-Cho couldn't figure out what any of this was about. “You'd better come with me, young man.”

He brandished the knife. Her eyes widened. “Ain't going nowhere, seen?”

She put her hand out, but slowly, like she was letting a mean dog sniff it. Somehow that made him feel much worse than the way she'd frowned at him. “Give that to me right now, please. You're not bringing that into our house.”

“Please cooperate, Senor Izabal.” Sellars had just lifted himself out onto the van's steps and he was breathing hard.

Cho-Cho stared at the woman. She didn't look like a real person to him at all—she was pretty and clean like someone on a commercial. What did these people want with him? He gripped the knife tighter, but her hand stayed out.

“Please give that to me,” she said. “No one's going to hurt you here.”

He looked from her to her big policeman-type husband, who wasn't saying anything, to Mister Sellars, who nodded, his strange yellow eyes very calm and peaceful. At last Cho-Cho reached out and set the knife down on a little bench near the door, next to a plastic box of nails and screws. He was putting it down because
he
wanted to—no one was going to take it from him.

“Good,” said the woman. “Now follow me.”

When the water had been turned off, the woman stood up. Cho-Cho had been too busy looking at all the strange things in the room—little kid toys and dried flowers and about nine hundred kinds of soap, most of which looked more like candy than anything else—to pay much attention, so when she said, “In you go,” it took him a moment to figure out what she was talking about.

“In . . . in there?”

“Yes. You're certainly not going anywhere the way you are right now. You . . .” She almost shuddered. “You are absolutely filthy. I'll deal with those clothes.”

He stared at the warm water, the white towels hanging on the racks. “You want me to get in there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. Go on, hurry up—we don't have much time.”

Cho-Cho reached up for the tab on his jacket, then paused. She was still standing there, her arms crossed on her chest. “What you doing?” he asked her. “You funny or something?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I ain't taking no clothes off with you in here!” he said angrily.

The little girl's mother sighed. “How old are you?”

He thought about it for a moment, wondering if there were some trick hidden in the question. “Ten,” he said at last.

“And what's your name?”

“Cho-Cho.” He said it so quietly she asked him again.

“All right,” she said when he had repeated it. “I'll be outside, Cho-Cho. Don't drown. But throw those clothes outside as soon as you take them off. I promise I won't look.” Just when the door was almost shut, she opened it again, just wide enough to say, “And use soap! I mean it!”

 

When the little girl's father came in about half an hour later, Cho-Cho was still angry about his clothes.

“You robbin' me,” he said, close to tears. “I'm gonna get my knife back, then you sorry!”

The big man looked at him, then at the woman. “What's this about?”

“I threw those horrible clothes away, Mike. Honestly, they smelled like . . . I don't even want to talk about it. I let him keep his shoes.”

Cho-Cho's choice had been either to go naked or to put on the clothes she gave him, so he was wearing a pair of the man's pants, rolled several times at the cuff, and held up with a belt. That wasn't so bad—with such baggy legs, he looked a little like a Goggleboy wearing 'chutes—but the shirt he was now clutching to his naked, damp chest was another story.

“I ain't wearing it.”

“Look, son.” The man kneeled down beside him. “Nobody's really happy about all this, but if you make a fuss and we get caught, we're
all
in trouble. Trouble as big as it gets. Do you understand? They'll put me in the brig and you in one of those children's institutions—and not the nice kind either. I bet you know what I'm talking about. So please just give us a break, will you?”

Cho-Cho held out the shirt, trembling. “This? 'Speck me to wear this
mierda
?”

The man looked at the picture of Princess Poonoonka, the pink fairy-otter, then turned to the woman. “Maybe you could find him something a little less . . . girly?”

“Oh, for goodness sake,” said the woman, but went to go look.

The man astonished Cho-Cho then by smiling. “Don't you dare tell her,” he said quietly, “but I have to agree with you, kid.” He patted Cho-Cho on the shoulder and walked back down the hall to the garage, leaving the boy even more confused than he had been this whole, crazy night.

 

When her mother woke her up, it was still dark outside, although the sky was turning purple. “We're leaving on our trip, Christabel,” she said. “You don't have to get dressed—you can sleep in the car.”

But when she had put on her warm slippers and pulled her big coat on right over her pajamas, Mommy said something so strange that for a moment Christabel almost thought she was still asleep and having a dream.

“Mister Sellars wants to talk to you before we go.”

Daddy was in the kitchen, drinking coffee and looking at maps. He smiled at her as her mommy led her by, but it was a small, tired smile. Out in the garage all the van's doors were open, but Christabel didn't see Mister Sellars anywhere.

“He's in the back,” her mother said.

Christabel walked around to the far end of the van. Her daddy had taken out the tire and the other things that were usually under the floor in the van's back part. Mister Sellars was lying in the empty space, curled up on an unrolled sleeping bag like a squirrel in its nest.

He looked up and smiled. “Hello, little Christabel. I just wanted you to see that I was all right before your father put the top back on. See, I have water—” he pointed to a couple of squeeze bottles lying beside him, “—and a nice soft place.”

She didn't know what to say. Everything was so strange. “Is he going to put the top back?” she asked.

“Yes, but I'll be fine.” He smiled again. He looked tired, too. “I'm used to confined places, and besides, there are things I can do while I'm in here and things I need to think about. I'll be fine. Besides, it's only for a little while. You just do what your mommy and daddy tell you to do. They're being very brave, and I hope you'll be brave also. Remember how I told you about Jack when he was climbing up to the giant's castle? He was scared, but he did it anyway, and everything turned out for the best.”

Her mother, standing a little way behind her, made a funny noise, kind of a snort. Christabel turned to look at her but her mommy just shook her head and said, “Okay, sweetie, come on now. We have to get going.”

“I'll see you real soon,” Mister Sellars said. “This is still a secret, but not from your mommy and daddy anymore, and that's very good for everyone.”

Her daddy came out of the kitchen wiping his hands. As he started to put the floor of the van over Mister Sellars, talking to the old man in a quiet voice, Christabel's mother helped her up into the middle part where the seats were.

“Now if anyone asks,” her mommy said, “you tell them Cho-Cho's your cousin. If they ask you any other questions, just say you don't know.”

Christabel was trying to figure out why her mommy would say something like that when she saw the terrible boy on the back seat, wearing one of her daddy's jackets. Christabel stopped, scared, but her mother took her arm and helped her sit down. The boy only looked back at her. It was funny, but he suddenly looked much smaller. His hair was wet and close to his head, and the jacket and pants were so big that he seemed like a really little kid dressed up.

She still didn't like him, though. “Is he going with us?”

“Yes, sweetie.” Her mommy helped her fasten her seat belt. Christabel squeezed over to one side, so there would be lots of space between her and the terrible boy, but he wasn't even looking at her anymore. “Everything is a little . . . unusual today,” her mother said. “That's all. You sleep if you can.”

 

She couldn't sleep, and she couldn't stop thinking about the boy Cho-Cho, who was just a few inches away, staring out the window. She also couldn't stop thinking about Mister Sellars lying under the carpet in the back. Were they going to take the boy back to his home outside the Base? Why did Mister Sellars want to bring him along? And why was Mister Sellars hiding if Daddy and Mommy knew about him and knew that he wasn't bad? She hoped it wouldn't hurt his legs to be curled up like that. She hoped he wouldn't be scared. He had said he had work to do, but what could he do in the dark, in a little small place like that?

There was just a hint of light in the sky as they drove toward the front gate of the Base, enough to make the trees look like black cutouts. Most of the houses had a light on in front or inside, but the ones that didn't looked dark and sad.

Her daddy talked to the soldier at the first guardhouse for a few minutes. She thought another soldier looked through the window at her and Cho-Cho, but she wasn't sure because she was pretending to be asleep.

They stopped for less time at the second guardhouse, then they were out beyond the fences and driving. She could see the sky now, all gray but with light behind it. Her mother and father were talking quietly, but they weren't arguing. The terrible boy had his eyes closed.

Christabel couldn't think about anything any more. The gentle bump, bump, bump of the car and the noise of the engine made her want to go to sleep for real, so she did.