Six (29 page)

“Michael,” said Parker finally, “thank you. I'm really—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Me too. Just go. Send me a postcard or something.”

“I'll have to work out how to write
Wish you were here
in Gladstone Code.”

Michael didn't respond immediately, and Parker realized he had tears in his eyes.

“So,” said Michael gruffly, “have a good trip.” He held out his hand.

Parker gave a small laugh and shook it stiffly. “It's been a pleasure working with you,” he said in a businesslike voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Michael. “You too.”

Parker slid along the seat and stepped out. He leaned in, waved good-bye one last time, and closed the door behind him.

“You have your tickets?” asked the man standing by the shuttle bus marked
AVECTO CONVENTION
.

“Yes, sir, I do,” said Solomon in a strange, thick accent. Parker guessed it might be an attempt at a Southern accent. A terrible attempt.

Solomon reached into his jacket and pulled out a stack of papers.

“Aaron,” drawled Solomon, “find the tickets, son.”

Parker took the papers and mumbled something along the lines of “Yes, Dad.” He didn't trust himself to speak up—though he wasn't sure his attempt at an American accent could be any worse than Solomon's.

Parker rummaged through the papers and realized he had no idea what he was looking for.

“Want some help with that?” asked the driver.

Parker nodded and handed the papers to the man, who took them and swiftly pulled out three pieces of paper.

“You're all set. You can leave your bags there,” he said, pointing to a pile of suitcases by the door. He handed the papers back to Parker. “Your dad need any help getting up there?”

“No, siree,' said Solomon. “My boy can sure show me the way.”

Parker tried not to look as horrified as he felt. Fortunately, the driver didn't seem to pick up on anything out of the ordinary and had already turned to take the tickets of the two men in jeans and sweatshirts who had just arrived behind them.

Parker and Emma took their three bags and dumped them on top of the pile of suitcases. He grabbed Solomon's elbow and hurried him up onto the bus. There were maybe ten people on it—two women and the rest men, all sitting on their own at window seats. Every one of them looked up as they walked along the aisle to the row of empty seats at the back, but nobody said anything.

Parker let Emma take the seat by the window and then sat down himself and turned to whisper to Solomon.

“I don't think you should speak too much.”

“Really?” replied Solomon. “I thought I sounded quite convincing.”

Parker shook his head. “Not really. Sorry.”

Solomon nodded. “I'll try toning it down a bit,” said Solomon. “Thanks for letting me know.”

The two men who had just boarded took the pair of seats in front of them.

“I don't get why they can't tell us how long the flight is,” said the man in front of them.

“Right. Or at least which continent this place is in—it's not like that's going to blow their cover.”

Continent?
thought Parker.
Oh.
He pressed down on his wrist.

The men in front of us don't know about SIX.

What?
replied Emma.

They think they're going to another continent or something. Just listen.

The men were now talking in hushed tones, and Parker leaned forward to listen. He repeated the conversation back to Emma.

“I don't know what it is—something just doesn't feel right,” said the man by the window.

“I agree, man. The money's good though.”

“I know, but we don't even know where we're going. I thought they'd have told us more by now. It's freaking me out. Maybe we should just leave now.”

“Seriously? Come on, Joe—that's crazy. With the money they're paying us, we can do a couple of months—build a few walls or whatever they want—and come back with enough in the bank to take the rest of the year off. Whatever it is—it can't be that bad.”

“It could be.”

“Or not. Let's just go check it out—we don't have to stay the whole year. Okay?”

“Fine. But if I don't like it—I'm on the next flight back. You with me on that?”

“Sure, man, whatever.”

Parker sat back and looked at Emma with wide eyes.
They have no idea.

You have to say something,
said Emma.

No way!
said Parker.
We can't say anything.

But they can't come back! They think they can leave.

Parker tensed his jaw and glared at Emma.
No way. And anyway, what am I going to tell them—“By the way, you're actually going to a different planet?” You think they're going to believe me?

Emma shrugged.
You have to try, Parker. What if they have family here?

Parker shook his head.
Then they'll see them when Dad works out how to teleport back. We can't bring any attention to ourselves right now.

Emma bit her lip as she thought about what Parker was saying.

Okay. You're right,
she said finally.

Parker leaned back in his seat and muted his thoughts on Effie. That fact was, he didn't like it any more than she did, but right now they had to think of themselves. If there was one thing Parker was certain of, it was that they wouldn't get a second chance to do this if they messed it up.

Emma nudged him. He turned to look at her, and she nodded in the direction of the front of the bus. He turned and saw—to his surprise—another child: a girl about six years old. Both her parents were dressed in dark colors, both with the same serious look on their faces.

The girl saw Emma, and her face broke out into a wide grin. She tugged on the sleeve of her father's coat.

“Look, Daddy, there's another girl here!”

“Keep your voice down, Lily,” said her father. “You can talk to the girl later.”

Lily dropped her head but didn't say a word as she took a seat next to her mother.

“That's everyone,” said the driver as he climbed back onto the bus. He sat down in the driver's seat and closed the doors. “We'll be there in about an hour.”

One the men in front of them sat up. “The airport is ten minutes away,” he called out.

“Private airport,” the driver called back as he started the engine.

*  *  *  *  *  *

In their rush to leave, Parker hadn't given much thought to where they would be leaving from. At a push, he would have guessed that it would be from the offices of Avecto. It quickly became clear, once they crossed a security checkpoint and turned onto what appeared to be a completely empty field, that he would have been wrong. It seemed that Parker was not the only one confused—everybody on the bus, with the exception of Solomon and Lily, had their faces pressed up to the windows, searching the black landscape for anything that might resemble a terminal.

Parker could hear the two men murmuring urgently between themselves as the bus began to slow down, and Parker wondered if they were getting ready to make their escape. For their sakes, he hoped they were. The only problem with that, Parker thought, was that there was nowhere to run to—only what appeared to be miles and miles of grass in every direction. There were no streetlights, no people, no buildings, and no other vehicles. In the distance Parker could make out the faint glow of light from the security booth. It was the only visible light, barring the white headlight beams from their bus.

“What kind of an airport is this?” called out someone at the front.

The driver didn't respond. Parker turned to Solomon, and he leaned down and whispered in Parker's ear.

“The terminal is undergound. We're almost there.”

Oh,
mouthed Parker. He turned and signed to Emma what Solomon had said, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise. They both returned to staring out the window, searching for what might be the entrance. They didn't have to wait long.

Even under the full beams of the bus—and now knowing what to expect—the entrance to the terminal was not immediately obvious. It appeared, at first, as a far-reaching narrow black rectangle laid down on the grass. As the bus continued its approach, it became clear—to the alarm of everybody in the bus—that it was a hole. It was only when the bus looked like it was about to drop that Parker—who was not the only one gripping his armrest—realized that it was, in fact, a sloped runway.

“What is this?” asked someone as the bus began a smooth descent down into a long tunnel.

“The terminal is coming up,” called out the driver. “Everything will be explained there.”

Parker glanced around at the rest of the passengers on the bus and saw the same concerned expressions on the faces of all of them. As unsettling as this was, thought Parker, at least he knew what was really happening. He couldn't begin to imagine the confusion of anybody who didn't.

The black hole became a black metal wall ahead of them. The bus slowed down as it approached, and then came to a standstill. From where Parker was sitting, he wasn't able to see exactly what the driver was doing—though it seemed, from the way he was leaning to the side and murmuring something, that he was addressing an intercom.

The black wall slid open slowly, and a strong white light poured out from behind it. Parker could see nothing more, except what appeared to be a smooth white floor ahead of them. The bus started moving once more, and the white floor opened out to reveal an equally white room. It was, thought Parker, not unlike Michael's basement, except even shinier and sparser—if that were possible.

The bus parked and the doors opened. The driver stepped out, and one by one the passengers realized he was unloading their bags from the cargo. Everybody, except for Solomon, took this as their cue to leave.

“No rush,” said Solomon. Ahead of them, the aisle was already full, as everybody waited to get off the bus. Parker watched as the two men in front of them had moved far enough along not to hear them. He turned to Solomon.

“They don't know they're going to SIX,” whispered Parker.

“Who?”

“Those two men. They think they're taking an airplane somewhere.”

Solomon nodded. He didn't look the least bit surprised. “Some don't, some do. It depends on what their level of security clearance is.”

He pulled out the papers from his jacket.

“This,” said Solomon, pointing to a large letter
I
on the right side of the ticket, “stands for ‘informed.' That means that we know where we're going and how we're going to get there. Some tickets have
UI
—‘uninformed.' I'm guessing that's what will be on those men's tickets. There's one other level—but they don't need tickets—
R
. Stands for ‘resistant.' They may or may not know all the details—but they definitely do not want to go.”

“Like Dad?” asked Parker.

Solomon nodded. “Come on, let's go.”

The two men—the last passengers apart from themselves—were now climbing down the stairs of the bus.

Solomon stood up and started to lead the way.

“You're supposed to be blind,” said Parker.

Solomon shook his head and smiled. “Well remembered, Aaron.”

“Thanks, Dad,” said Parker. He sidled past Solomon and pretended to guide him forward and down the steps.

The driver was pulling out the last suitcase. Parker went over to their three bags, which were now lined up next to one another by the front wheel of the bus. His wrist buzzed.

What happens now?
asked Emma.

Parker shrugged just as her question was answered. A wide smooth white door that Parker hadn't noticed slid open and a woman with blond hair—tied up into a neat bun—wearing a dark green suit and bright red lipstick stepped out. Everybody turned to face her.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said with a warm smile on her face. “Welcome to the Avecto Terminal. My name is Grace, and I'll be your hostess today.”

“Where are we going?” demanded a bearded man in an ill-fitting brown suit.

Grace walked up to him and placed her hand gently on his arm. “We'll explain everything inside.”

She led the way toward the door, the man walking beside her.

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Grace asked the man.

“It was fine—except nobody knows what's going on.”

She wrinkled her nose and smiled apologetically. “I know—I'm so sorry. I wish we could make it less of a mystery, but it has to be that way for security. I hope it wasn't too unsettling.”

The man shrugged and mumbled something along the lines of “It's okay.”

Parker dropped back as he realized that Emma—who had taken on the task of guiding Solomon—was at the back of the group. Slowly, they followed the group through the doorway and into a warmly lit large space filled with tall plants, soft music, and rows of shiny black leather seats. On the far wall from where they came in, beside a set of steps leading up to another floor, a thin curtain of water fell gently in a small pond. Parker could see large orange fish gliding through the water.

This is nice,
said Parker on Effie.

I know,
said Emma.
It's not what I expected.

Everybody seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the group visibly relaxed as they made their way over to the seats. Even the jumpy man who had been sitting ahead of them on the bus looked impressed.

Grace stood in front of them as everybody found their seats and settled, and three men, dressed in the same green uniforms, joined her at her side. One looked older than the rest—they were all smiling.