philitup: me too.
willatree: likewise
angelface13: what if we can’t find jez?
Finn had half expected a question like that from Charlene. But he wasn’t prepared for the sinking feeling in his gut as he read it. His fingers hesitated briefly above the keyboard. And then he typed.
Finn: that’s not an option.
12
FINN DIDN’T GET ANY great joy from sneaking out of his house at 1 AM. His parents were pretty good about giving him his privacy and space. The two things they asked in return were honesty and trust. He broke their trust by opening his second-story window and shinny-ing down the fire rope installed for emergencies. The only justification for his actions was that this qualified as an emergency—though he’d never be able to explain it to them. If caught, he’d be grounded for all eternity.
He quietly walked the Hawk Tracer BMX out to the sidewalk. Then he climbed onto the bike and took off down the sidewalk. It was the most beautiful bike he’d ever owned—silver-and-black frame, monkey bars, alloy levers—and it ripped along, teasing him into trying a few tricks, such as jumping curbs and popping wheelies, which he resisted because of the dark.
He kept to the residential streets as much as possible, avoiding the busier avenues, afraid that a policeman would stop and question a kid on a bike. It was a long ride, and he settled into a rhythm of slowing at stop signs, looking in all directions for headlights, and then crossing—but never fully stopping. The residential streets were totally quiet and empty of cars. Soon he had two miles behind him. Then three. He crossed two major avenues, finding his way into Orlando’s older neighborhoods, one connecting to another. Finally, the residential gave way to the commercial. He flew past shuttered buildings, businesses of every kind: psychic readings, dry cleaning, a yarn store, a bakery, dozens of restaurants and coffee shops, dog grooming, curtains and drapes, lamps, a half dozen banks, and a copy shop. He spotted the red tile roof and stucco walls of a building he’d been to once before. Amanda’s house.
It had a tall, stained-glass window in the front, just below a squared-off steeple that showed a white angel against a blue background. Maybe it had once been a church.
He pulled the bike around back to an apron of cracked blacktop that had once been a parking lot. He locked the BMX to a metal railing and then circled the building, wondering, What now? He’d never been inside Amanda’s house before, though he assumed, from what she’d said, that she and Jez had separate bedrooms. Each ground-level window had a grid of heavy wrought-iron bars on the outside to protect against burglars; it gave Finn a ladder to climb. He went from the railing to the bars on a window, grabbed hold of an iron pipe running from the gutters, threw a knee up over the edge, and pulled himself onto the Spanish-tile roof. He walked gingerly, for the first tile he stepped on cracked.
A shade was pulled down blocking the first window he reached. Finn edged around the corner to another window with its shade up. There was a small solar panel propped up on the window ledge. It was dark behind the glass. Finn cupped his face to the glass and was able to make out an empty bed. There were no posters on the wall—no artwork at all. The place looked dumpy and unlived-in. He took this to be Jez’s room. There were no bars across the second-story windows, so he tried to open one, but it didn’t budge. He moved along slowly; the roof was steeply pitched. The Spanish tile felt smooth and slippery beneath his sneakers.
The last window on this side had its shade up, but gauzy curtains were pulled across it. It also had the same kind of solar panel outside—this one taped to the jamb. He tried cupping his eyes with his hands to the glass but could barely see anything in the dark room. What he did see was a pair of sneakers on the floor: Amanda’s black high-tops. Convinced he had the right room, he tapped lightly on the pane. Waited. Tapped again.
All at once, black objects fled from the overhead eves. Bats! Finn instinctively jumped back, slipped, and fell face-first to the curved tile roof. He reached out and clawed his fingertips into the windowsill. Just then, the curtains sprang back, and there was Amanda looking out the rain-stained window at him, her face a sleepy, twisted knot of curiosity. She wore a spaghetti-strap top and plaid pajama bottoms.
Finn’s fingers slipped an inch, leaving scratch marks on the sill. Another half inch, and he was gone.
Amanda threw open the window and grabbed both his wrists. They locked grips. She put her foot to the wall and heaved and pulled. Finn grabbed the inside of the sill, got his knees under him, and, with her help, climbed inside.
“Sorry,” he whispered.
“The front door is easier,” Amanda said in a normal voice. “Or you could have called.”
“Shhh!” he said, ducking low, as if that would help.
“Why?” she said, again in her normal voice. “I’m the only one here.”
“What?”
“I…ah…” Amanda switched on the light. It was a dim compact fluorescent bulb hanging from a wire that led to a car battery. A second wire led from the battery to the window and the solar panel beyond. As Finn took all this in, Amanda spoke, but unlike the Amanda he knew, she wasn’t telling the truth. “Our mother…my mother…she…she…her sister down in Boca needed her. She had to leave suddenly. Left me by myself.”
“All alone?”
“I’m a big girl.”
“You’re fourteen. My parents never leave me alone overnight.” He paused as their situation sank in. “You’re alone? We’re alone?” He spoke in his normal voice.
He took in the light, the battery, and the solar panel outside the window. He saw no light in the hallway. He’d seen no other lights from the street.
“We are. Stay there.” She went to a closet and put on a robe. She sat down on the edge of her bed and pointed to a rickety chair at the desk.
Finn moved the chair closer.
“It’s two in the morning,” she said. “Just for the record.”
The air from the open window was cool. The curtains danced at the sides. Amanda stood and closed the window. “Whoa!” she said. “Check it out!”
It took Finn a moment to spot the bat hanging upside down from the eaves above the window. It was big, though Finn didn’t want to appear scared by a bat. It had a blue iridescence to its black wings, tucked at its sides. It looked dangerous.
“Creepy,” he said.
“There are a lot of bats here,” she said. “I think they live in the attic. Though that’s the biggest one I’ve seen, by far.”
She pulled the curtains, shuddered, and sat back down on the bed. “They make the weirdest sounds at night. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping.”
“Flying rodents. Never been a big fan. I’m not one of those guys with rats for pets. No thanks.”
“I’ve never had a pet.”
“Seriously?”
“We moved around a lot.” She blushed and looked away; he wondered what that was about.
“You remember Wayne?” he asked.
Her eyes went wide. “I thought he’d disappeared.”
“Yeah, So did I.” Finn went on to explain his encounter with Wayne, and then the meeting that had followed. Amanda interrupted several times, clarifying the connection between Jez’s disappearance, her DHI being seen at the Magic Kingdom, and the possibility that the DHI server had been cloned.
She sat for several long minutes with her head in her hands, her hair cascading over her forearms and forming a veil she hid behind.
“I’m going to trust you,” she said.
Finn felt a shiver. He looked up at the bat, a long, dark silhouette seen through the translucent curtains. “Okay,” he said.
“I can trust you, right?”
“Right.”
“Because I’m not supposed to tell anyone.”
He didn’t say anything, but she had every cell in his body focused on her.
“Most people, they would never believe it. And that’s a good thing. It’s better if people don’t believe it. It’s safer for everyone. There’s some saying about hiding behind ignorance, isn’t there? There should be, if there isn’t. Am I rambling?”