The Flight of the Silvers (8 page)

“We’re here.”

Amanda glanced out the window at the looming gray structure, a three-story complex of glass and brushed metal. Though she’d initially processed the building as a corporate office, she noticed derelict gazebos and leaf-strewn tennis courts on the property.

The van rolled to a halt and the Salgados stepped outside. Amanda took a long look at her fellow passenger—a chubby, sweet-faced adolescent. The poor girl wore enough soil on her pajamas to fill a small planter. She looked like she’d crawled out of her own grave.

“I’m sorry,” Amanda offered.

Mia looked up. “What?”

“This whole time I’ve been sitting here in my own world. I never asked if you were all right. I never even asked your name.”

The girl blinked in dazed disorientation. She’d spent the ride in a dull static haze, furrowing her brow at all the alien cars and baffling store signs. Now a loud banshee scream congealed in her throat like an air bubble. She couldn’t move it up or down.

“I’m Mia. Mia Farisi. I’m not hurt, but I don’t know what’s going on. I just want to wake up from all this. I want to see my grandmother again.”

Amanda bit her trembling lip and nodded. “I know, Mia. Believe me, I know what you’re feeling. I wish I could say something to make it better.”

“What’s your name?”

To Amanda’s surprise, the question stung. In all the pain and turmoil, she’d nearly forgotten the shape of her other wound, the one Derek had planted.

I’m actually glad we’re going to different places. What does that say about you?

Now she blew a hot, jagged sigh as old syllables rolled up her throat.

“Given,” she told Mia. “My name’s Amanda Given.”

Erin opened the back doors. “You need help getting out?”

“No,” Amanda said. “We’ll manage.”

As she climbed out of the van, she extended her good arm to Mia.

“Listen, I’m just as scared as you are. I have no idea what’s going to happen. But I’m glad to know I’m not alone. If you don’t mind, I’d really like to hold your hand. Can I?”

After a moment of addled thought, Mia weakly nodded and obliged her.

Hand in hand, the refugees walked together—the widow and the orphan, the woman who fell from the sky and the girl who climbed out of the ground.

Soon they could spy a small crowd of people watching them through the glass of the lobby. Beyond their shadowy heads, Amanda saw a wall engraving in large gold letters. A word. A name. A last name.
Pelletier.

SIX

Like uneasy dreamers, Amanda and Mia pushed through the doors and drank in their opulent new surroundings. The lobby was a sweeping chamber of glass and gray marble. Roman columns loomed three stories high while sunshine flooded down through skylights, glinting off every polished surface.

Amanda had to squint through the refractions to study the crowd at the reception desk—eighteen men and one woman, all pasty white and dressed in casual weekend garb. She found them all smart-looking, in a docile sort of way.

Eggheads,
she realized.
They’re all scientists.

As Amanda and Mia moved closer into view, nineteen ardent smiles deflated into slack surprise. The crew had expected to find disoriented visitors, but these two looked battered, begrimed, and hopelessly bereaved. They didn’t just drift into this world on a freak cosmic updraft. They crashed here like meteors.

While Amanda drew dark comfort from their sympathetic expressions, Mia’s stomach twisted with stress. Their wide stares fell on her skin like hornets, making her feel like some wretched little thing they’d found under the porch steps. She meekly hid behind Amanda.

Spying the girl’s distress, one of the scientists turned around to his peers. “You know what? This is overwhelming them. Can we, uh . . .?”

He was rotund and diminutive, with spiky brown hair and a scraggly chin beard. He reminded Amanda of a woodchuck, though from his sharp eyes and cultured British accent, she figured he was a phenomenally sharp one.

The scientists slowly departed through multiple exits, leaving only the bearded Englishman and a mousy young blonde with a clipboard.

“I apologize,” said the man. “Curiosity got the better of us. We certainly don’t wish to cause you any further discomfort. I . . .” He trailed off at the sight of Amanda’s wrist. “Good Lord. Is that broken?”

Amanda looked down at her makeshift splint. “I don’t know.”

“We’ll get that looked at right away. We have a fully equipped medical facility here.”

Mia suddenly caught movement at the edge of her vision. Past a bubbling fountain and down a hallway, a wet-haired boy peeked out from one of many doors. A teenager. He spotted Mia’s gaze and shyly retreated from view.

“I still don’t know who any of you are,” Amanda said.

The Englishman nodded amenably. “Of course not. Sorry. I’m Dr. Constantin Czerny, Secondary Executive here at the Pelletier Group. This is my associate, Dr. Beatrice Caudell. May I inquire as to your names?”

“I’m Amanda Given. This is Mia Parisi.”

“Farisi,” Mia corrected.

“Farisi. Sorry.”

While Caudell scribbled their names into her clipboard, Czerny studied their tightly clasped hands.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what you two have been through. I apologize again. We’re all temporal physicists here. As such, we’ve been overly excited by recent events. For your sake, I implore you to remind us and forgive us should we ever take your state of mind for granted. Your well-being is our absolute priority. I can’t stress that enough.”

Amanda nearly wept with delirious relief. The bleakest part of her mind had prepared her for more madness, more Esis. But these people seemed mercifully kind. She was willing to forgive God long enough to ask him to please, please, please don’t let this be a screw job.

“How did you find us?” she asked Czerny. “How did you even know we were coming?”

“Ms. Given, there’ll be time to—”

“What’s
happening
to us?”

“I’m afraid we don’t have any more than a shard of the overall picture, but I promise we’ll share everything we know. That’s a task for my superior, Dr. Sterling Quint. He’s not here yet, which is just as well, because there are still a few more of you in the vicinity. We’re gathering them as we speak.”

“Are we the first?” Amanda asked.

“You’re the second and third. In fact . . .” Czerny peered down the hallway, then back at Amanda’s wrist. “If you can endure without treatment a few more minutes, I’d like to introduce you to young David. I imagine he’ll be quite relieved to see he’s not alone in his ordeal.”

Erin’s handphone beeped twice. She read the screen, then tugged her brother’s sleeve.

“It’s Dad. He wants us downtown.” She looked to Mia. “We’re hitting the road again, kitten. But we’ll be back soon. Sit easy. You’re in good hands.”

“Good luck,” said Czerny.

The Salgados left the way they came. Czerny tapped an anxious finger on Caudell’s clipboard. “Get the maid to prepare three more rooms. We’ll need six at a minimum.”

As Czerny spoke, Mia could see that he was struggling to hold back a grin. He reminded her of a kid at Christmas mass, hearing about the Lord but thinking about the presents.

“This building was originally a hotel,” he informed them. “Now it seems it will be again. Funny how the universe works.”

—

The first-floor game parlor was a popular break-time refuge for the Pelletier staff. Aside from hustlers and gamblers, nobody appreciated billiards more than physicists.

The boy named David Dormer stared at the table with wavering concentration. He’d never played pool in his life and had no intention of starting now. Instead he took four boxes of dominoes from the game shelf and arranged the pieces in a winding spiral construct on the felt. When he realized he was building himself a precarious galaxy, he placed a cue ball in the center to serve as the core.

On hearing Czerny’s voice, he fluffed his wet blond hair in the mirror. He’d taken a long hot shower earlier, only to discover upon emerging that one of the so-called Pelletiers had snatched away his clothes and wristwatch. They’d left him a plush white robe in compensation, thankfully a long one. David was six feet tall and still growing.

Czerny peeked in the doorway. “How fares my young friend?”

David emitted a less than genuine grin. “Keeping myself busy, I suppose.”

“I can see that. Anyway, I have a wonderful surprise—”

“Yes. I’d very much like to meet them. If they’re up for meeting me.”

Czerny cocked his head in surprise. David shrugged. “I peeked.”

“Ah. Of course. Can’t say I blame you.” He beckoned to people in the hall. “Come. Come.”

Amanda and Mia stepped into the doorway, and now David smiled for real.

For a split second, Amanda’s primal instincts growled like a Doberman. She’d expected to find someone in the same wretched condition as herself and Mia. Instead she saw this gorgeous blue-eyed boy, one so clean that he practically glistened. And then there was the smile. He’s
smiling
!
For a tense beat, Amanda drank him in with ice-cold suspicion.
Uh-uh. No way. You are not one of us.

While Czerny handled the introductions, Amanda took a deeper look. Now she caught the uncertainty in David’s eyes, the work of anxious self-distraction on the pool table, the shiny silver bracelet on his wrist. Her judgment was six miles out of whack today.
He
is
one of us.

“I don’t mean to grin like an idiot,” he told Amanda, as if he’d read her concerns. “I’ve just been wondering for the last hour if anyone else managed to survive whatever it is I survived. I’m only smiling now because the answer’s obviously yes. That’s the first good news I’ve gotten all day.”

The last of Amanda’s doubts melted into a gooey puddle. Now she fought the urge to hug him.

“It’s nice to meet you, David. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m not sure ‘okay’ is the operative word. But I’m alive. I suppose I should be thankful for that.”

She finally got around to noticing that David, like Czerny, had an unmistakable accent.

“You’re Australian.”

“Yeah. I grew up there. First Brisbane, then Perth. But I’ve been traveling with my father these last six years and I haven’t been back. Hello.”

His greeting was aimed at Mia, who’d once again taken refuge behind Amanda. After all the terrible events of the morning, her mind was in a state of wreckage, a crushed and crackling fuse box. And yet one teenage circuit seemed to work just fine. Like a special news bulletin, it interrupted her grief to announce that there was an insanely beautiful boy in the room, wearing nothing but a robe. It also reminded her that she was still in her pajamas, still covered in dirt, and—lest she forget—still really fat.

“Hi,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

Czerny clapped his hands together. “Okay. I apologize for the brevity, but Ms. Given needs medical attention. Mia, would you like to stay here a bit or would you prefer a shower?”

“Shower, please.”

He smirked. “I thought as much. Beatrice, would you?”

“Of course.” Caudell gestured to Mia. “Come with me.”

As they unlinked hands, Mia and Amanda exchanged a brief glance, a wordless agreement to reconnect soon. It scared Amanda to think how very un-Christian she’d become if anyone here mistreated the girl.

Czerny glanced at David. “They’ll be back soon. And there are more arriving.”

“Wow. That’s excellent. I’m very encouraged to hear that.”

“How old are you?” Amanda asked him.

The question earned her another smile. This one was softer, hand-rolled with evincible pain.

“I just turned sixteen,” David said. “Yesterday, in fact.”

She couldn’t imagine a worse thing to do right now than wish him a belated happy birthday.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for your losses as well.”

Orphans,
she thought.
It’s just me and orphans.

“We’ll be back,” Czerny repeated to David. “Let us know if there’s anything you need.”

“At some point, I’d like real clothes. I also wouldn’t mind some more information about . . . you know, all of this.”

“Soon,” Czerny promised. “Soon to both.”

He escorted Amanda back to the lobby. David blew a smirking sigh.

“Right. I’ll just keep amusing myself then.”

He took another look at his careful spiral construct. After a moment’s consideration, he flicked the trigger domino, then watched the pieces fall.

—

“Remarkable, isn’t he?”

“I’m sorry?”

Czerny continued to position Amanda’s wrist in the scanner. “David. Hard to believe he’s just sixteen. I know it’s premature to say, but I suspect he’s a genius.”

The medical lab was once a hotel meeting room. Only the conference tables had been removed, replaced by expensive-looking machines that were utter mysteries to Amanda. The device Czerny currently used on her arm had six Frisbee-size metal rings, all connected by gooseneck rods to a contraption that resembled a photocopier. Czerny had called it a free-induction tomograph. She assumed the imaging was electromagnetic, like MRI scans.

As the machine hummed in busy analysis, Amanda writhed uncomfortably at the odd sensation in her healthy arm. It tingled nonstop with invisible flurry, as if a thousand ants crawled all over it.

“From what he told me, he had a very unique upbringing,” Czerny said. “His father was a world-renowned theoretical physicist, much like our own Dr. Quint. The two of them traveled the world. David’s lived in Mexico, England, Japan, Holland. Never in one place more than a year.”

“Did he mention anything about his mother?”

“No. I was curious but I didn’t ask. He looked pained enough talking about his father.”

Amanda vented an airy sigh. “He seems to be handling this so much better than me.”

“We all react differently to trauma. In your defense, he’s not saddled with a broken wrist.” He studied the new image on the monitor. “A distal radius fracture, from the looks of it.”

Amanda squinted at the scan, unable to make heads or tails of it until she followed Czerny’s finger.

“Oh there it is. Good. No compounding. Doesn’t look like joint damage. I don’t even think this’ll need realignment. Do you?”

Czerny stared at her in muted wonder.

“I’m a nurse,” she told him.

“I was about to guess you were a doctor. In any case, you’re right. This was a nice clean break.”

“Good. Thank God.”

“Now, let’s see what we can do about making you a better splint.”

Amanda watched Czerny carefully as he rooted through the supply drawers. “You seem to know a lot about treating people.”

“I was a field medic in the British army. I’ve seen my fair share of broken limbs.”

“What part of England are you from?”

His genial smile turned sour. “The part they call Poland.”

“Oh. Sorry. I assumed from your accent—”

“Common mistake. Like most of my people, I was taught the King’s English and sent to fight in his wars. Anyway, Pole, Jackie—it hardly matters now. I’m a naturalized citizen of these great United States. God bless the peaceful eagle.”

Amanda’s stomach lurched. The invisible bugs on her arm scurried faster. “You, uh . . . you wouldn’t happen to have a cigarette, would you?”

Czerny paused his work, momentarily thrown. “I’m afraid not. If you’re looking for a chemical relaxant, we have a few on hand that are far less toxic than nicotine.” He eyed her cautiously. “And far more legal.”

She blinked at him stupidly. “You’re telling me cigarettes are illegal?”

Czerny fought another wild grin.
Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous.

“They’ve been contraband for thirty years now. Not that they can’t be found. If you’re truly in need, I can ask my colleagues. One of them might have a pack of Chinese nicquans hidden away.”

Amanda covered her mouth, stifling a black and hopeless chuckle. Czerny gently squeezed her shoulder and reached into his pocket.

“Ms. Given—Amanda—I can only imagine what a trying experience this is for you. But you will adapt. I promise. Until then, here.”

He pressed a warm coin into her hand. Though it was the size of a dime and decagon-shaped, it was clearly a copper-colored one-cent piece. It still said “In God We Trust.” And it still had a side-profile engraving of Abraham Lincoln.

“One of ours,” Czerny told her. “From the pennies we found in David’s pocket, it seems your currency is different, but still a little the same. Next time you’re overwhelmed, just remind yourself that this isn’t completely foreign. This isn’t square one. Things are different, but they’re still a little the same.”