Abduction Page 16

  A panicked glance flashed between them. They raced for the kitchen.

  Mandy skidded across the tiled floor. Luke reached past her and grabbed the doorknob.

  The front door opened.

  “Hold it!” Quentin yelled. An order.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Mandy froze.

  Luke jerked open the back door.

  “Wipe your feet,” Quentin snapped to one of his skinhead followers. “Those boots are filthy.”

  Luke felt his blood start to pump again. Mandy dove through the door. Luke closed it behind them.

  They huddled together, pressed against the house.

  “It wouldn’t have been such a great kidnapping opportunity after all,” Mandy whispered, “unless you wanted to grab his skinhead gang, too.” She was grinning shakily. Her eyes sparkled.

  Luke was amazed at her cool. Then he noticed she was shaking as bad as he was. His knees were knocking so hard, he almost couldn’t stand. Mandy was sliding down the shingled side of the house.

  He lifted his chin toward the corner of the house. “Let’s move around the side. Even if there aren’t any bushes to hide under, at least there aren’t any doors along there. There’s less chance of being surprised.”

  Mandy nodded her agreement.

  Luke slipped along the wall cautiously. Under the kitchen window he paused, listening for voices from inside.

  He heard Quentin, but couldn’t make out the words. His voice was gruff-sounding, angry. Then it came closer. Luke ducked farther below the window.

  “So far you’ve failed to do the only thing I’ve asked you to do,” Quentin complained acidly. “How do you expect to be warriors for the future? You can’t even catch a puny girl and her half-wit boyfriend.”

  Luke couldn’t tell how many skinheads were with him. They didn’t make a sound.

  “Jeff,” Quentin barked. “Billy.”

  Luke jumped at the sound of his brother’s name. His heart flopped like a dying fish. Maybe it was some other Jeff.

  “Downstairs,” Quentin ordered. “The rest of you jerks stay here.”

  Mandy poked Luke and together they scurried around the corner of the house. They crouched down by one of the unboarded basement windows.

  Luke heard the door to the rat cave unlock.

  “Oh. Wow.”

  Luke’s heart sank. That was definitely his brother. There were retching sounds.

  Quentin laughed contemptuously. “I think you might be as lily-livered as your brother.”

  Mandy shot Luke a surprised look of sympathy. She had only just realized it was his brother down there.

  “What you want us to do?” It was a different boy’s voice. Sullen but willing.

  “Two handfuls of that food for each of the rat cases. One of the other for the roaches. We’ll be transporting all of them. The food makes them sluggish, easier to carry.” Quentin chuckled. “And the dyzychs like the piquant flavor of half-digested food pellets in the soft gut. Helps make ’em crunchy.”

  His voice turned hard. “Buck up, Jeff. We haven’t got all day. Unless you want to join your brother when this is all over. It won’t be a pretty fate, believe me.”

  Luke thought of the mural up in Quentin’s bedroom with the cartoon images of death. He pictured the skinheads on the gurneys with their skulls in a bowl and their bones pulverized. Quentin didn’t have a pretty fate in mind for anyone.

  Once all the rats and roaches were fed, Quentin summoned the rest of his gang. “Load ’em up, boys,” he said. “You’ll have to pack them full.”

  Luke and Mandy peered in the basement window but they couldn’t see much. Except for an occasional groan of disgust, the skinheads were quiet as they emptied the rats into large backpacks fitted with animal carrying cases.

  “You want the rewards, you gotta do the work,” Quentin reminded them several times. He seemed to be moving from one to the other, inspecting their packing technique.

  Once the rats were packed, he had them dump the roaches into canvas sacks and carry everything upstairs and out into the backyard. There were about a dozen skinheads helping him.

  Luke and Mandy edged along the side of the house as far as they dared. The sun was beginning to set.

  In the graying light, the black clothing and metal studs gave the skinheads a sinister but unreal look, like a tacky horror movie.

  “They move like zombies,” Mandy whispered.

  Luke looked closer. She was right. There was an odd mechanical stiffness to most of them. “Quentin has them mind-controlled,” he breathed. He didn’t know if this made him feel better or worse about Jeff.

  “Strap your packs on,” Quentin ordered.

  They all bent in unison, except for the two meanest-looking boys. Their movements were more natural. No hypnotism needed.

  “They’re squirmy,” the biggest kid complained. The one with HATE scrawled across his forehead. He paused, scowling darkly, one arm through the strap.

  Despite the heat, he wore a long-sleeved black shirt. His arms, boneless, bent oddly. None of the other boys seemed to notice.

  But there was a shiver of tension in the air when he spoke. Everything stopped. The other kids looked expectantly at Quentin.

  Luke felt a quiver of excitement. Quentin was having trouble controlling a group this big.

  In two strides Quentin was in the big kid’s face. “Put it on,” he growled.

  The skinhead, almost half a foot taller, stiffened. Then he ducked his head and shrugged the backpack on. “I was just saying,” he whined. The tension was broken.

  Quentin stepped back, surveying his gang closely. “Soldiers sometimes have to do grunt work,” he said in a flat voice. “But this is the last time. After tonight, you’ll each have more slaves than you know what to do with.”

  Several of the boys grinned back at him wolfishly.

  Luke and Mandy exchanged a horrified glance. A vein in Luke’s head began to pound.

  “Hey, Q, this was a pretty cool idea,” one of the smaller kids said. He wore lots of metal studs, but no tattoos. “Feeding the aliens rats and making them think it’s real food. And they think they’re better than us,” he sneered, looking at the others for approval.

  A couple more boys nodded and spit on the ground.

  But Quentin was not amused. He yanked a fat rat out of the nearest pack. “This,” he said, holding it up, “is an all-organic grain-fed farm-animal. Better food than any of you are used to.”

  Luke held his breath, thinking Quentin was going to make the kid eat the rat. But after a few seconds, Quentin returned it to the pack.

  “He’s afraid to test their loyalty again so soon,” Mandy whispered.

  Luke heard a note of optimism in her voice. He knew that she was grasping for hope.

  “Each of you tie a sack to your belt and fall in,” Quentin ordered.

  There were some grimaces and mutters, but each of the skinheads picked up a sack of roaches as instructed.

  Almost too late, Luke realized they would be marching around the side of the house. Without a second to spare, he and Mandy raced ahead of them.

  They dove behind some evergreens planted up against the front of the house. It was thin cover. Luke’s hand sought Mandy’s.

  The blood in his veins turned to ice as the booted steps approached. The rhythmic noise pounded in his skull. If even one of the skinheads glanced sideways, he and Mandy would be caught.

  The first ones passed. They marched in twos, side by side, faces forward. Their shaved heads gleamed dully in the growing darkness.

  Luke stopped breathing. He hunched in on himself, trying to get smaller.

  Quentin brought up the rear. Mandy gripped Luke’s hand tightly. Surely Quentin could smell their fear.

  But he was concentrated on controlling his “soldiers.”

  The skinheads hit the street. Boot heels echoed loudly on the pavement. A man watering his lawn looked up. He hurriedly shut off the hose and disappeared inside his house.


  Luke and Mandy waited until the group had disappeared around a corner. Then they dashed down the street after them.

  “Careful,” Luke said when they reached the corner.

  “We can’t afford to lose them,” Mandy answered, her voice tight. “This is our last chance.”

  “We can’t afford to get caught either,” he warned.

  Although the night was dark, they would be easy to spot. It was the dinner hour. The few people who were outside retreated into their homes at first sight of the gang of skinheads walking in military formation.

  The menacing chorus of marching boots was the only sound in the still air.

  Avoiding streetlights, Luke and Mandy raced from shadow to shadow. It was soon obvious that Quentin was headed up Old High Street. He passed under the power lines without pausing.

  A short distance later, the group made a sharp turn into the woods. Boots muffled by the soft ground, they instantly disappeared.

  Alarmed, Mandy sucked in her breath. Together, she and Luke broke into a pelting run. Overhead, the power lines buzzed furiously.

  Luke felt his veins constrict as sparks rained down on the road in front of them. But he and Mandy didn’t falter.

  “Was it here?” Mandy asked, searching the ground frantically.

  “No,” Luke said farther along the road. “Over here. They’re headed toward the quarry. I remember this path. My brother and I used to take it years ago.”

  They hurried, going too fast for the darkness and the uneven ground. The path was overgrown. Broken bushes snapped underfoot. The soft ground was churned up by the skinheads’ heavy boots.

  Running, Mandy stepped into a shallow depression. Her ankle twisted. Reaching to catch her, Luke caught his toe on a root. They both went down.

  The noise seemed deafening in the stillness. They froze. But no one had heard.

  Mandy scrambled up. “Let’s go. They’re way ahead of us.”

  Luke saw the wince of pain that crossed her face. The ankle was injured.

  “I’m fine,” Mandy insisted, trying not to hobble as she hurried on.

  But Luke worried. They might need every ounce of speed.

  “Maybe you should stay back, Mandy,” he said as the woods thinned. “If I get caught, you can go for help.”

  She shot him a look. It was too dark to see her face, but he didn’t need to. “We stick together,” she said.

  Soon they were out of the trees. Luke hadn’t seen the back end of the limestone quarry in years.

  “Jeff and I used to play here,” he said. “There are caves just big enough for a small boy to hole up in.”

  In the play of cool light from the crescent moon, the landscape looked desolate and spooky.

  Nothing grew. Rock jutted up in low cliffs, rounded formations, and boulders.

  Nothing moved.

  “Where are they?” Mandy cried softly. “They can’t just disappear.”

  Luke strained his ears while his eyes scanned every shadow. His mind was working at something. Something he’d forgotten.

  “We’ll have to backtrack,” Mandy suggested. “They must have taken a turn in the woods that we missed. Nothing could hide out here.”

  Luke nodded. They started back into the trees. The ground was hard, just a thin layer of dirt over limestone. But even so, they could see that people had passed this way recently.

  Passed out of the woods and vanished.

  Mandy’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

  Then Luke remembered what was nagging at him. “Remember when I found that bit of clear stuff and chased the alien through the woods?”

  Mandy winced. He knew she was recalling how she hadn’t believed him.

  “When the dyzych zapped the evidence, what was left was limestone dust,” Luke said with growing excitement.

  “So you think they’re in there,” Mandy asked slowly, turning to look over the bare rocky terrain, “burrowed into the rock.”

  “There’s got to be an entrance,” Luke said. “No matter how concealed it is, there’s sure to be dust. I wish we had a flashlight.”

  “This place is huge,” Mandy said. She sounded miserable. “Whatever they’re planning, it’s going to happen tonight. We’ll never find it in time.”

  “Most likely, the entrance is near here,” Luke guessed. “Otherwise we would have seen Quentin when we came out of the woods. They weren’t that far ahead.”

  “You’re right,” Mandy said, energy returning to her voice. She started toward the nearest humplike formation. “Let’s hope they all have a nice big organic, grain-fed dinner,” she added venemously.

  “Remember, Luke,” Mandy went on in a different tone, “no heroics. We find the entrance, we get out of here. Get help. We’ll have no trouble being believed if we have an alien spacecraft to show.”

  “Believe me, I don’t want to be a hero,” Luke assured her.

  It was slow going, searching in the dark for a certain pile of rock dust in a place full of rock dust.

  Luke felt agitation building up in his chest. It was getting late. They were going to fail.

  Luke heard a sound. A whooshing noise. Like bat wings, but bigger.

  It flashed through his mind that he hadn’t heard any normal night noises since they’d set out from Quentin’s. As if all the animal life had fled.

  Suddenly there was a flick at the edge of his vision. A dark swooping shadow. A black stain against the rock.

  Mandy. Luke jerked his head. Where was she?

  His pulse began to thrum ominously. “Mandy?” Quietly. Afraid to shout.

  He heard a small noise. A cry. Pain, surprise.

  “Mandy!” This time he shouted.

  His voice bounced among the rocks. He shouted again.

  The night closed in around him, thick as velvet.

  Mandy was gone.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Mandy paused to rub her throbbing ankle. As she bent over, a faint gleam caught her eye. Moonlight was striking something shiny.

  She looked and it was gone. She moved her head slightly, side to side. There.

  Keeping her eye trained on the faint glimmer, she started up a smooth slope. She dropped to all fours so she wouldn’t slip.

  There was a flutter of wings, but it didn’t register. In the back of her mind, she heard a sound like a million soft-bodied moths. But she was intent on reaching the shiny beacon.

  She crawled up to it and put out her hand wonderingly. Her fingers touched a smooth seam in the rock, dusted with fine powder. Almost invisible.

  She stood up to find Luke. She didn’t dare call out. Squinting into the darkness, Mandy felt the pressure swelling in her chest. Where was he?

  A shadow passed. Dropped over her. A pulse of air on her arms. Before she could move, she was pinned. A coil wound smooth and hard around her body.

  “Sorry,” a soft, husky voice whispered in her ear, “but Quentin wants you.”

  Mandy gasped for air, trying to scream. But the coils tightened, squeezing the breath out of her. Nothing escaped but a shrill squeak.

  The rock seam split. Darkness bled up into the night.

  Fury poured strength into Mandy’s muscles. She struggled, twisting and squirming. Her lungs screamed for air. The sinewy coils pressed, crushing muscle against bone.

  Mandy felt something fall, little weights striking her foot, bouncing soundlessly to the ground.

  Her magnets.

  Loss swept through her, sucking the fight out of her mind.

  The rock seam closed. Mandy was inside. A faint light emanated from deep within the rock. The coils loosened.

  “What Quentin wants, Quentin gets.” The soft voice sounded regretful.

  Mandy staggered back and faced Cassandra. The woman smiled crookedly. Her long boneless arms rippled as she drew them in. “They—we—need him, you see.”

  She sounded sorry, which scared Mandy worse than anything. “Why?” she asked.

  Cassandra considered her. “Why do
you care? It’s all over for you. I’ll make your suffering brief.” She sighed. “If I can. Maybe it will help to tell you that your sacrifice may spare humanity from extermination.” She hesitated. “Not Greenfield, but most of Earth.”

  Mandy’s insides turned to liquid. “What have I got to do with it?” she asked, her voice faint.

  “Quentin is the only one who can detect the coming of the Others,” Cassandra said with some distaste. “The dyzychs cannot live on Earth. They only want to enslave its inhabitants, to mine its mineral riches. The Others want the planet for themselves. They intend to wipe out the human population. And the dyzychs, of course.”

  Cassandra lifted a serpentine arm, nudging Mandy. “Come.”

  Mandy flinched away.

  Cassandra laughed drily. “My touch is the least of your worries.”

  Mandy started along the stone passageway toward the light. As the glow grew stronger, the cold knot in her chest drew tighter. The passageway forked.

  Cassandra directed her to the left. Mandy stopped, swaying on her feet. She put her face in her hands, pretending to be overcome. Only an effort of will made it a pretense.

  She dug her fists into her temples. While Cassandra stood patiently, Mandy pulled a few strands of blond hair from her head. She let some fall.

  When the passageway forked again, she did the same. Then a sudden intensity of light blinded her. She had an impression of silvery metal rising high above her. The ship.

  “Ah, Mandy.”

  Quentin’s voice struck like a sharp blow. “I can smell your fear—a delicious aroma,” he added as Cassandra led her through an open hatch into the brilliant light.

  Mandy had expected another lab room, but this was different. It was furnished Earth-style. Dominating the room was a large bed.

  “Welcome to my world,” he said.

  A shudder started deep inside her and enveloped her whole body.

  Quentin’s triumphant stare burned her skin wherever it touched. Something unnameable but powerfully dangerous radiated from him. Mandy felt it dissolving her will.

  Then Quentin switched his attention to Cassandra. Mandy felt weak with relief.

  “Where’s the other one?” he demanded. “The stupid boyfriend.”