Rebel Nation (20 page)

The front door was unlocked. Because who locked their doors anymore? The city was safe. Bennett made sure the city was safe, damn it, and he walked right into Kingston's house without even knocking first.

“Kingston?” he called out, then louder, “Goddamn it, Adam!”

The house was indeed empty. Bennett left again and went out to the garage. The little white car Kingston drove wasn't in it.

Kingston had disobeyed him. He'd gone looking for his daughter. Bennett felt it in his gut. He'd gone to Virginia City. Of course, she wasn't there. Bennett had broken her neck with his bare hands.

Bennett bent at the waist, his stomach suddenly twisting in sharp, stabbing pain. He moaned in anger and utter frustration, until the sound grew and deepened into a growling scream. He reached out and picked up a heavy crystal bowl from the table in front of him. Kingston probably dropped his car keys into it at the end of his day. Bennett hefted it, then threw it, as hard as he could, into the tile floor, causing a satisfying crash and a shower of crystal and ceramic shards.

—

West looked at Adam Kingston. The headmaster sat in
a chair, tied to it with rope. He had sweated through his button-down shirt, despite the fact that it was genuinely cold in the schoolhouse's old, defunct kitchen.

“I want to see my daughter,” he said “Bring her to me, now.”

Isaiah struck like a snake, his hand darting out and cuffing Kingston on the left cheek. The whole room went silent after Kingston gasped.

West was as alarmed by Isaiah's behavior as he was by having the headmaster as a prisoner of war. This was war, on however small a scale. There was no fooling himself that it was anything else, but Isaiah was letting his anger, and his concern over Bridget, take the lead.

Most alarming of all was that Kingston was genuinely distressed about his daughter. Bridget was missing. She wasn't in the city, at least nowhere that her father knew about, and she certainly wasn't here. If she'd left Reno looking for him, she wouldn't know where to go. She could be anywhere. West tried to focus. To make a plan. “We need to drive down to the ranch. If Bridget somehow managed to get there on her own, she wouldn't know where we'd moved to.”

“I'll do it,” Kingston said.

Isaiah tensed to hit the man again and West put a hand on his arm. “My dad can go. In Kingston's car, it's got nearly a full tank of fuel. He'll be able to get there faster than any of us.”

“I'll have to check the road between the ranch and the wall, too,” James said from the door. “If she tried walking, she might not have made it that far. It's a good twenty miles. How long has she been missing?”

“I haven't seen her in a week. She's here. Please, just let me see her.”

“She's not here,” West said.

Kingston moaned, low in his throat. He was shaking with cold now. They'd have to get him up to a warmer room or they'd lose their prisoner to hypothermia.

West looked at his father. “Go, then. Take Isaiah with you.”

“I don't need—”

“We don't do things alone here.”

“Fine.”

West waited until his father was gone, then turned to Isaiah. “I'm going to get him upstairs. Find Christopher before you leave with my dad. Tell him I need him.”

Isaiah looked like he was going to argue, but in the end he just turned and left West alone with Adam Kingston. He was beating himself up far more than he was beating on the headmaster. He'd left Bridget in the city.

“I'm going to untie you,” he said, trying to keep his voice slow and even. “Please don't give me any problems. I don't want to have to leave you down here in the cold.”

Leanne came down the stairs; West heard her distinctive gait before she came into the room and stopped in the doorway. “I can't believe it.”

“Bridget is missing,” West said. It felt like his entire chest was encased in cement. He couldn't fill his lungs properly. Where was Bridget? What had she done? Worse, what had been done to her?

“You thought your daughter came here?” Leanne asked Kingston. She still stood at the doorway, her arms wrapped around her body against the chill. “Did she know we were here?”

“I don't know what she knew,” Kingston said. “I just know I haven't seen her since the day Isaiah Finch disappeared.”

“Isaiah didn't take Bridget out of the city.” West spoke mostly to himself and to Leanne, while he untied Kingston. “I know that for sure.”

“She wouldn't have left the city on her own,” Kingston said. He rubbed his wrists and looked up at West. “This is all your fault.”

“My fault? I saved your daughter's life.”

“You took her out of the city. You made her think about things she never should have even considered. And now—now I don't know where she is or if she's even—”

“Did you tell Bennett about the ranch?” Leanne asked, interrupting him.

“The ranch.” Kingston shook his head, slowly, like something was loose in there.

“I saw you there. You and Bridget. The day before—” West stopped himself before he admitted to Kingston that he'd been back in the city. “The day before Isaiah left the city.”

“Of course I told him,” Kingston said. His jaw was tight and his teeth clenched against chattering. “I don't know what you kids think you're doing out here, but you're in a lot of trouble. A lot of trouble, son. Langston Bennett—”

Kingston's already pale face blanched, and West stepped toward him without thinking about it. The man pushed him away and headed for the stairs.

“Mr. Kingston,” West said. “Mr. Kingston! I can't let you just wander around here. Don't do this.”

“I have to find my daughter.” He turned when West gripped his arm. He reached out for the stair rail and his legs went out from under him. He collapsed onto the third stair up like he'd been hamstrung and looked up helplessly at West. “Oh, God, why did you have to involve her in this?”

It suddenly occurred to him that Kingston didn't know what had happened at his house the day he took Bridget and left the city. “I took Bridget with me to save her from Bennett. He broke into your house that day. We had to climb out your bedroom window and down that big tree outside your balcony.”

“That doesn't make sense. Why would Langston do that? You're lying.”

West yanked Kingston back to his feet and pushed him up the next stair. “Because she knew what the two of you were doing to kids like my sister.”

He expected Kingston to try to argue that he wasn't involved with funneling autistic kids into the Mariner program. Instead, he just started up the stairs on his own and said, “She couldn't have.”

“She did, Mr. Kingston. And everyone here knows, too. Do you know why Clover left the city again? Because Bennett was going to force her back into the Mariner program.”

“West.” He looked up to the top of the stairs and saw Clover standing there, bundled against the dropping temperatures in a sweater and boots. “I think Bridget is dead.”

“Jesus, Clover,” West said. Kingston moaned. Clover's face flushed, and she looked back over her shoulder. For an escape route, West thought. Where was Mango? He came up the stairs, past Kingston and Leanne.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, her eyes cutting to Kingston. “But I think I'm right.”

“No.” Kingston's voice was surprisingly strong and sure. “No. She can't be. Langston must be holding her somewhere.”

“She knew we saw her at the ranch,” Clover said, ignoring Kingston. “Dad just left to go look for her there, but she had to know we aren't there. And you know her, West. She wouldn't leave the city alone.”

“Maybe Bennett is holding her,” Leanne said. “Trying to get her to talk.”

Clover shook her head slowly, then tipped her chin toward Kingston. “He knows where we are already. What else could he hope to learn from her?”

Kingston looked as ill as West felt—a little green around the edges, dead white around his mouth and pinched nose. Everything in West rejected his sister's words, except the little part that knew, instantly, that she was right. He was so grateful that he'd sent Isaiah with James. “That's enough. He doesn't know what she knows. He wouldn't kill her.”

Adam Kingston folded in on himself. He sat, almost primly, on the stairs and let loose a high-pitched keening wail that settled into a moan that sounded vaguely like his daughter's name.

“Mr. Kingston,” West said. He was reeling himself, and he didn't have the patience for this. “Adam!”

“He killed her. How could he—oh God, what have I done? What have I done?” Kingston started banging his head into the wall, like Clover sometimes did, only harder. By the third time, there was blood on his forehead. The sound ricocheted off the walls in the narrow staircase and was followed by sharp gasps from Leanne and Clover.

“Get up.” West grabbed a handful of Kingston's shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You want to know what you've done? You're a teacher—and you sent your most vulnerable students to Bennett. You knew what you were doing, and you did it anyway. Now Bridget's gone and Clover—”

“I'm fine,” Clover said. “I'm here. West.”

“This is all
your
fault.” Anger replaced the blood in West's veins. It filled his head, clenched his fists. Bridget was probably dead. Clover might never be safe again. All of these kids were his responsibility now, and it was all Kingston's fault.

“West?” Jude was at the top of the stairs. West looked up at him.

“What? What do you want?”

“We're ready to go.”

The interruption balanced West some. Enough that he was able to take Kingston by the arm and bring him up out of the cold basement.

Terror is not a new weapon. Throughout history it has been used by those who could not prevail, either by persuasion or example.

—JOHN F. KENNEDY,
ADDRESS TO THE U.N. GENERAL ASSEMBLY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1961

Bennett barely recognized himself anymore. He looked
like a senior citizen. Worse, he looked like his memory of his father. His hair had gone from a distinguished salt-and-pepper to mostly gray. He had thick purple bags under his eyes and his muscles were so tense, he felt like he'd been carved of wood.

Like Pinocchio, he thought, looking at the deep groove that was now etched between his eyes. His brother's puppet.

Jon, of course, had no contribution to make in the area of figuring out what to do about the three guards who had stumbled upon Clover and West Donovan, and apparently every other person missing from Reno, in Virginia City.

It hadn't occurred to Bennett until he was staring across his desk at the three young, earnest faces of those guards, that having them running around his city was a bad idea. Now they were riding—silently, thank providence—with him back up the mountain into Virginia City. It didn't ease any of Bennett's anxiety to know they wouldn't be coming back down with him.

In fact
 . . . Bennett pulled to the shoulder, just at the base of the mountain road that would take them up into Virginia City.

The young man next to him looked up, so eager to please. So ready to do whatever he was told.

“Get out,” Bennett said.

“Sir?”

“All of you.” When they didn't move right away, Bennett opened his own door and stood up. “Now, please.”

He'd gone back and forth about bringing them with him into the little historical town that should have been abandoned but apparently wasn't.

If he left them in Reno, for all Bennett knew the entire city would know about the problems brewing just under their perfect façade by the time he got back.

If he took them all the way into Virginia City, perhaps he'd have more leverage when he arrived. He was sure that if they hadn't already left, the group that had run from his city was expecting the full guard to descend on them.

If he showed up alone, he could convince them that he was protecting them from a larger onslaught.

He'd listed his choices to Jon. His brother did what he'd always done and just barked at him to
fix this
, then slammed the phone down.

Fix this. Fine, Jon. I'll fix this. Starting here.
He reached back into the car, lifted the console between the two front seats, and pulled out a large black handgun.

He didn't let himself think, just pointed at the young man who'd been sitting next to him and fired at his head. The second two shots came one on top of the other. Bennett felt numb as he dragged the bodies away from the road, half hiding them behind a cluster of sagebrush.

What are you going to tell their families?
Jon's voice asked him as he got back behind the wheel and turned the key.
How are you going to explain their sons have gone missing?

“I'll blame it on West Donovan,” Bennett said out loud. That shut Jon up, anyway.

One of the guards who Bennett had just shot had told him that he and his partner, who was killed by one of Bennet's wayward citizens, ran into fire on their way into Virginia City. It didn't occur to Bennett until he came around a turn and found himself face to face with a billow of black, reeking smoke that he'd have the same problem.

It had been nearly two decades since he'd last visited Virginia City, but he was fairly certain he was just on the outside of town. He parked his car, locked it, and left it there. Getting around the fire wasn't difficult. There was a wide path, cleared of fuel for the flames, all the way around it. The fire was contained inside a convertible car. It was clearly meant to keep vehicles from getting to town, without starting a forest fire.

He walked up the center of the road toward town. Clearly he'd been spotted already—someone had started the fire. He didn't know what to expect. He might be shot before he had the chance to speak to anyone. Part of him welcomed that. At least if he was, Jon would be forced to take care of his own problems for once.

It surprised him to get all the way down Virginia City's main street without coming in contact with a single other person. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd think the town was abandoned. He started to wonder if he did know better after all. The only thing he knew for sure was that a guard had been shot in the restaurant at the north edge of town. As Bennett approached it, he caught a whiff of cooked meat—the same scent the surviving guards had reported.

It took Bennett a moment to place the sweating, the thumping heart, the chill down the center of his back. He was afraid. Truly afraid, for the first time in his adult life.

He looked around and saw no one. No signs of life at all, except the faint scent of cooked food, and—Bennett went across the street, toward an imposing Gothic building that looked like something out of a horror movie. There were tire marks in the gravel lot.

Could they still be there, after sixteen years? Had the guards that he'd just killed driven into this lot and not told him? Where were all the people he'd been led to believe lived here?

Maybe they were gone. Maybe—

—

Clover watched Bennett from the window in the schoolhouse's
attic. She couldn't take a deep breath and she couldn't hold still. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, flapped her hands against her thighs, and wished that she had Mango with her. Bethany had taken him and the smaller kids to a house far from Main Street, where Bennett was less likely to hear a cry or a bark.

“This isn't going to work,” she said.

Jude moved beside her to look through the window as well. Bennett was kneeling in the parking lot, picking at something. “It might. It still might.”

It was Alex who came up with the plan of trying to make it look like they'd left Virginia City. If Bennett was satisfied that they'd escaped, he would just go back to the city. They'd lit the fire to make sure he was on foot and less likely to hang around.

They'd been divided. West and James agreed that hiding was the choice least likely to get someone, or all of them, killed. Some of the kids newly out of Foster City wanted to fight. They were angry and unwilling to give up their new home. Isaiah and Christopher and Marta all thought that leaving was the best choice. James had convinced Kingston that Bridget wasn't with them, and that he had not seen her pass through the official detainment system before leaving the city himself a few days after the girl went missing. Kingston was nearly catatonic and didn't add much to the discussion about what to do.

In the end, they did what was easiest. They were here and moving so many people out fast enough to avoid Bennett had been impossible. They had no choice but to make their stand.

Clover turned to look at Jude. It suddenly occurred to her that he hadn't said what he thought they should do. She'd just assumed that he agreed with her—that they needed to buy time here. Through the winter would be best, but even a few days would give them time to prepare to head south.

“He has to leave,” she said. “If we can get south, it'll be warm enough—and there might be—”

Jude took off his green plastic watch and fastened it onto Clover's left wrist. “I want you to give me two minutes, then go downstairs, round up the rest of the kids and get them all out the back door. Just keep going down the hill, quiet as you can, and hide in the first house you find.”

She looked at the watch automatically. “Jude—”

He kissed her, his arms wrapping around her, holding her against him. “I love you,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was gone before she could respond.

—

Jude's legs shook so hard that he wasn't sure he'd
make it down three flights of steps to the schoolhouse's front door. He tried to calm himself, but he couldn't catch a good breath.

He didn't hesitate before he opened the door, even though his nerves were a frayed mess. He couldn't risk Bennett moving on before he got out there, and he sure couldn't risk Clover figuring out that he'd given her his watch so that she'd have something of him after he was gone. The same reason Oscar had left it for him in the first place.

He stepped out into the late November sun. “Mr. Bennett.”

The man turned too fast. His foot slipped on the gravel and he landed on his ass in the parking lot. Jude cried out as loudly as Bennett did. God, he had to get hold of himself. He came down the stairs, but Bennett was on his feet before he reached him. The head of the Mariner program held one long arm out to Jude, a long finger pointed at his chest.

“Stay right there.”

Jude stopped walking. Bennett's eyes had a wild quality, dilated, too wide, as he searched without taking a step forward for the others. “No one else is here,” Jude said.

“What are you talking about?”

Bennett was at least as afraid as he was. That realization gave Jude a boost of confidence that cut through the confusion swirling around in his head. Bennett had come to Virginia City alone. Jude wasn't sure how that was possible, but he knew it deep down. If the guard were here, Bennett would not be so afraid.

Jude opened his arms wide. “No one else is here,” he said again. “Just me.”

“I don't believe you.” Bennett made a move toward him, and Jude forced himself to hold still. “You're going to tell me where Clover Donovan is.”

“You're welcome to search,” Jude said. Had it been two minutes? He had to stall and give Clover enough time to get the kids out of the schoolhouse. “And when you go back to the city, you can take your dead guard with you.”

Bennett stepped backward. It was just a half step really, but it bolstered Jude's belief in the idea that there was no guard waiting to descend on him. Bennett might be a powerful man, but he was just one man. They could take on just one man.

Jude stepped closer to Bennett, who took one more step back, then held his ground. “We aren't a threat to you.”

“Of course you're not.” Bennett had a natural swagger in his voice that belayed his physical sketchiness. “What possible threat could you be to me?”

“I'm going to give you the chance to turn around and walk back to your car and leave Virginia City. Either I'm telling you the truth and I'm alone, or I'm lying and someone has a shotgun trained on you right now.”

Jude flung one arm toward the multitude of windows dotting the side of the schoolhouse, emphasizing his point.

“I'm not leaving here without Clover Donovan.”

“You are, one way or the other.” Jude was grateful the words came out strong, because his insides were quickly turning to liquid. Either Clover was still in the schoolhouse, or she'd managed to get half a dozen kids out of it without making a noise. He didn't want Bennett forcing his way in to find out.

Bennett didn't look well. Jude didn't know what his normal look was, but his face was flushed and he had suitcase-sized bags under his watery, over-dilated eyes. He was shaking; his hands clenched and unclenched against his thighs. He moved faster than he looked like he should have been able to, though. Before Jude could react, Bennett had him by the throat with a gun pressed against his temple.

“I don't want to hurt anyone else,” Bennett said. Jude's knees nearly gave out at the “anyone else.” “But I will burn this fucking town to the ground if you do not produce Clover Donovan in the next thirty seconds.”

Jude opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a strangled, pathetic squeak. Bennett must have realized that Jude couldn't actually produce anyone for him if his neck was broken, because he yanked his hand back.

“She's—”

“I'm here.”

Jude felt the blood drain out of his face as he turned, and the whole world slowed to half speed. Clover was standing in the schoolhouse doorway. None of them spoke; the silence was heavy and thick.

“Clover Donovan.” Bennett said her name slowly, softly, as he took a step away from Jude toward her. “Do you know the problems you've caused me?”

Clover didn't answer.

“Your city needs you, Clover. Your country needs you,” Bennett said. “It wasn't so bad being a Messenger, was it?”

Where was everyone? Had West, and Isaiah, and James all hidden so well that they didn't know this was happening? Jude finally made himself turn all the way to Clover. She was holding on, but just barely. Her arms were wrapped around her body and she rocked, heel-toe, heel-toe. Jude, somehow sure that Bennett wouldn't shoot him in the back, went to her, but he couldn't help her.

Bennett wasn't in a rush. He came toward them at a maddeningly slow pace, a step at a time. “Come back to the city with me, Clover. It's the right thing to do.”