James Patterson - When the Wind Blows

When the Wind Blows

DR. ANTHONY PEYSER was slow climbing out of the slate-gray Mercedes sedan. His face showed the pain of the exertion. Peyser was in his late seventies, and genius or not, he hadnt been able to arrest the ravages of aging and a highly stressful life.

He walked slowly toward the men waiting for him in the small wooded clearing. He waved a greeting and looked to be a pleasant older chap.

We havent caught up with her yet. Harding Thomas spoke before he did.

So it would seem, the doctor said and smiled thinly. Well, Im not surprised. Under different circumstances, I might even be pleased with the results. She had avian instincts for survival and flight, and the clever intelligence of humans. She is superior to all of you, and shes proving it, isnt she. Of course she is. What a supergirl.

Well get her, Thomas said.

Peyser nodded and pursed his thin lips. I have no doubt of it. Shes sought out help, and the humans will be her downfall. Shes finally made a mistake.

Harding Thomas nodded. As usual, the doctor was right.

Bring her in alive if you possibly can. Shes worth a small fortune, Peyser said. But if that fails, bring her in dead. And that goes for anyone else whos seen her. The good that will ultimately come will justify everything. The most important days in history are almost here.

WE SLEPT FITFULLY at Caroles house and we were all up before dawn. Kit needed to go to the Inn-Patient and we decided it was best if we all stayed together.

Help was supposedly on the way. FBI agents would meet us at the Innpatient. Kit had already checked around midnight, but they hadnt arrived yet.

We left Caroles before four and it was incredibly dark and eerie on the back roads. There were no streetlights out in Radcliff, or in Bear Bluff for that matter.

We were close to the Inn-Patient by four forty-five. We traveled up the familiar road, but Kit passed right by the place. He checked it out as we drove by.

I dont see anybody. Maybe Stricker didnt believe me after all. That asshole.

We turned around and drove back. Everything looked dark and deserted. The FBI wasnt there yet.

Pull in, Kit. I have to look at my house.

This had been my home and I couldnt just let it go. No one was there yet. Kit turned into the driveway.

I grabbed his flashlight. Ill be quick.

I hurried out of the Jeep and climbed the front steps. My charbroiled front steps. I was oblivious to everything except that this was my house, my workplace, and my poor animals had been trapped inside, cruelly burned alive.

The building was still smoldering and the heavy, acrid smell of the fire was overpowering. My house was no more. I barely recognized it.

I got a surprise when I worked up the nerve to finally look inside. I moved the flashlight around and the animals were gone. Someone had let them out before they started the fire. I was relieved and also thankful.

Frannie. Kit was suddenly there behind me. You okay?

I had to see it, I whispered as my throat began to close up. I covered my nose with a handkerchief, but it didnt help much. A thick, dry taste like charcoal was on my tongue.

The fire had devoured everything. The furniture, rugs, and curtains were blackened rags and could never be salvaged. The walls and ceilings were blistered black.

Kit held me from behind. He knew the thing to do. I turned and looked into his eyes.

Kit, maybe its not the same people. Whoever burned my house let the animals loose. Those bastards at the School wouldnt have done that.

Maybe some of the doctors from Boulder started the fire, he offered, instead of the guards, the hunters.

Maybe those young army guys, like the ones we saw yesterday. I offered a paranoid thought of my own.

Lets go outside, he whispered softly. Well wait there. Theres nothing here anymore.

I know. Thanks for letting me see my house, I whispered. I let him pull me out of the blackened shell of my house, away from my life for the past few years.

We made it out onto the porch. We stopped moving.

They were waiting for us. Not the FBI - the hunters, the guards from the School. Half a dozen of the home burners, the child murderers, were standing in my driveway. They had Max and the other kids.

TAKE YOUR HANDS THE HELL OFF THEM! Kit called down from the porch. Theyre just kids. Theyre children.

I liked that, loved it, actually. They had rifles and handguns and here was Kit, barking orders. He was standing up to them.

The two guards holding Ozymandias and Max actually let them go, and even took a few steps back. They were dressed like local outdoor types workboots, wrinkled and stained khakis, hunting vests. There was no way to identify who any of them were. Army? FBI? Mercenaries?

Id never seen any of these particular men at Boulder Community Hospital, anyway.

Come down here off the porch! The man who spoke was broad shouldered, in his late forties or early fifties. His face was scarred and pitted, his eyes black marbles.

I just knew from Maxs descriptions that he had to be Uncle Thomas.

Youve caused enough trouble already, he called in a booming voice. I will shoot you down off the porch.

Weve caused enough trouble, I snapped back. Give me a break.

Youre a murderer! Max screamed at the man, who clutched her hair with one hand. Her face was bright red and she was struggling in spite of his grasp on her. And youre an asshole, too. Youre an even worse asshole than you are a murderer, Uncle Thomas!

Thomas smiled, and he almost managed to look avuncular. Thank you, Tinkerbell. He looked at us and pushed Max in front of him. You two, come down here. Come on, or Ill shoot one of the children right now.

He definitely will, Frannie. Hes a coward and a bully. Hes a useless, worthless pig.

Kit and I slowly walked down the porch steps and joined the other captives. We had no choice. The guards had guns aimed at us. Wed hoped to find the FBI here, but wed found these killers instead.

A couple of 44s were turning into the driveway behind our Jeep.

Then a black RV pulled in.

You know these people? I asked Max.

I know them, she hissed. I wish I didnt. Theyre guards - keepers. They keep order at the School. They keep everybody in line. They keep you prisoner until they decide to put you to sleep. The head creepkeeper is Uncle Thomas.

She snapped her head toward the burly man standing behind her.

Youre the worst of the worst. You betrayed us. You lie every time you open your mouth.

Youre way out of line, Missy, he warned. His face tightened. He raised his arm to strike her.

I threw myself at Uncle Thomas. I was in a rage. Thomas was momentarily caught off guard. Kit jumped into the fight. He hit one guy in the nose with an elbow. He knocked down a football-player-sized lug who had been threatening us with the butt of a rifle. Then a third guard put a revolver against the side of Kits head.

Max broke loose. She raced a few yards toward the pine woods clustered on the far side of the house. Then she waved her wings and took off.

She seemed to get stronger and smoother every time she flew.

Dont shoot! Please dont shoot her! I screamed at the top of my voice. I was yelling into Thomass ear.

Shoot her down! he yelled. Dont hesitate. Bring her down.

Two of the guards fired at Max as she lifted off. She didnt go straight up, though. Max shot like a dart back into the overhanging fir woods. She disappeared behind a copse of thick evergreen trees.

Several guards gave chase, but a few stayed with us and the other children.