Saving Sky Page 8
“I don’t know. For quite a while, I’d imagine.”
Over in the far corner, near the door, a girl started sobbing. It was sudden and uncontrollable, and within seconds hysteria began to spread through the room.
“Boys and girls!” Ms. Golly shouted. “Calm down. It’s not that bad! I don’t like this any more than you do, but people have done without electricity for thousands and thousands of years. Socrates did it, and Galileo, and Shakespeare, and George Washington—they all managed just fine. You can, too.”
“No! That’s not it!” the girl wailed. “It’s all these attacks…. Why are there so many? They just keep coming….”
“I know, I know. It’s scary.”
Heads nodded all around the room.
“But you need to keep telling yourself, this is temporary. And I don’t just mean the power outage—I mean the war itself. Wars don’t last forever, and this one’s been going on for a long time. Eventually it has to end. And…well, this is just my own personal theory, but I’m going to share it with you anyway.
“You’ve all watched fireworks on the Fourth of July, so you know how it goes. You’re sitting there on your lawn chair, or lying on a blanket, and the fireworks start. The rockets go shooting up into the sky one or two at a time and go boom, and then a few seconds later here comes another one. It goes on like that for about half an hour. Then suddenly they start coming thick and fast, booom, boom, ba-boom-boom-boom-boom, boom-boom! Right?”
There were a few giggles. The boom, boom, ba-boom part was kind of funny.
“And that’s when you know that the fireworks are almost over. It’s the big finish.”
Now there was absolute dead silence in the room.
“As I said, this is just a theory, but it makes a lot of sense. The terrorists have to be running out of people who are willing to give their lives to do such horrible things. Frankly, I think it’s amazing that they’ve kept it up this long. So I think what we’re seeing now—all these attacks, one after another, so close together—I think this is their big finish.”
Ms. Golly paused for a moment.
“I think it’s almost over, guys,” she said.
20
A Perfect Day
“KAREEM,” SKY WHISPERED. “WAKE UP.”
“What time is it?”
“I don’t know. I was so excited I forgot to look.”
He turned to face the back of the couch and put the pillow over his head.
“Come on, Kareem. There’s something I need to show you.”
“It’s the middle of the night, Sky. Why aren’t you asleep like everybody else?”
“It was too quiet. It woke me up.”
He removed the pillow and sat up.
“The quiet woke you up?”
“Yeah. Listen.”
They did.
“Okay, so it’s quiet. But it woke you up?”
“What can I say? It did.”
“Sometimes you can be really strange, you know?”
“Yeah. People tell me that all the time.”
Muddy awoke from whatever luscious dog-dream he’d been enjoying. He looked around, a little confused by the lateness of the hour and the undeniable fact that people were in the room, awake and talking. Time to go to work, then, never mind how dark it was. He hoisted his arthritic frame from his sleeping spot and began his search for a likely object. At the foot of the couch he found a shoe and trotted over to offer it to Sky.
“That’s a good boy,” she crooned, then handed the shoe to Kareem. “I believe this is yours.”
“Why does he keep doing that?”
“He’s a retriever. It’s in his blood. He can’t help himself.”
Kareem groaned. “I live with crazy people who have crazy dogs.”
“Just one dog. You awake now?”
“What do you think?”
“Good. Then you have to come see.”
She offered him her hand and he took it. Then she led him over to the window, where they stood side by side, gazing out.
“Now, isn’t that something?” she said.
The snow had been falling for hours already—fat, heavy flakes, coming straight down, with no wind at all. It had transformed the familiar landscape into a vision of white perfection, the edges smoothed out, the shapes simplified, and everything glowing in the light of the moon shining dimly through a veil of clouds and snow.
It was like the world had just that minute been created, and no one had touched it yet.
“That’s the best thing I ever saw,” Kareem said.
“I know. Isn’t it amazing? And guess what else.”
“What?”
“Do you know what day this is?”
“Sunday?”
“It’s the eve of the winter solstice, Kareem. A very special day. The exact moment when the earth begins to shift from darkness to light. And after all these months without any snow—and here it is December, and we usually get our first winter storm in October—then here comes this huge, gorgeous, perfect snowfall. And it arrives on this particular day. It has to mean something, don’t you think?”
“Mean something?”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s like Ms. Golly said—about the war and everything coming to an end. Remember, I told you? About the fireworks and all?”
He nodded.
“Well, what if the season for killing and hating is over? And the world is moving on to something new, moving toward the light. And the snow—it’s a promise. A blessing.”
“I don’t understand the logic of that, but it’s a really nice thought. I hope you’re right.”
“I think I am. And you know what else?”
“I never do, Sky. Just tell me.”
“This is going to be a perfect day.”
21
The Sled
AND IT WAS.
By early afternoon the clouds had vanished and the sky had turned a deep, winter blue. The sun, so intensely bright in the thin mountain air, made twenty degrees feel warm. And all around them in that dazzling light, the crystalline snow sparkled like glitter.
They had finished all their chores by then. Luke had twice gone up on the roof to sweep the solar panels clean, while the kids shoveled the walkway. The horses’ drinking trough was clear of ice, and the roofs of the greenhouse and the chicken coop had been knocked free of snow. Now it was time to play.
While Sky was out in the barn saddling Blanca, Luke went to the toolshed for the blue plastic sled and a length of nylon rope. He fed the line through the pull-rope in the front, making sure both sides were of equal length. Then he set it in place with a knot. When Sky brought out the horse, Luke began attaching the loose ends of the rope to the saddle, one on each side.
“Ever ridden on a sled before?” he asked Kareem. He was tugging hard, making sure his knots were secure.
“He’s never even seen snow before!” Mouse said.
“Ah. Well, now’s his chance.”
Kareem made an inscrutable sound—sort of I’m not sure mixed with I don’t think so.
Luke responded with a quizzical lift of the eyebrows.
“I’ll watch,” Kareem finally said.
“That’s fine. But there’s nothing to it. All you have to do is hold on.”
“I know.”
“It’s easy,” Mouse said.
“I know.”
“And really, really fun!”
“He knows!” Sky said. “Shut up, Mouse, and let him be.”
She shrugged. “Fine. Then I get first dibs.”
“Okay,” Sky agreed, “but I want to drive. Can I, Daddy? Please?”
Luke didn’t answer. He just looked at her, thoughtfully.
“I know how.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
“So?”
“No funny stuff?”
“Absolutely.”
“Positively?”
“It’s a promise.”
“All right.”
Sky climbed up into
the saddle, while Mouse settled herself on the sled and grabbed the handles good and tight.
“Are you ready,” she asked.
Ana came out of the house just then and stood on the portal, watching. “You girls be careful now!” she called.
“We will!”
And off they went, down the snow-covered drive, rapidly picking up speed. When they reached the front gate, Sky turned off to the right and up a shallow slope, then made a wide loop around a clump of trees, wound through the orchard, and headed back up the driveway again, moving at a good clip now.
“Rock and roll!” Mouse shouted.
“No.”
“Please!”
“No!”
“Please!”
“Daddy’ll kill me.”
“Come on, Sky. Please!”
“Oh, all right.”
Sky turned to the left, then to the right, then to the left again. Mouse went sliding all over the place, narrowly missing a tree, some brush, the dog. She squealed and shrieked with joy.
Sky turned and looked back at her sister. “Dump and thump?”
“Yes!” came the answer.
Just short of the house, Sky made a sharp turn. The sled tipped over, and Mouse went rolling off, laughing hysterically.
It was a huge mistake, of course. Sky had known this even while she was doing it—only she’d been swept up in the moment, and Mouse was having such a good time.
“Get down!” Luke roared.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” Mouse said, brushing herself off. “It was my idea. I asked her to.”
“She begged me to.”
“It’s fun!”
“It’s dangerous,” Ana snapped.
“I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“That’s true,” Luke said. “You won’t. Hop on down, now.”
“Daddy, please?”
He gave her the famous look, and Sky dismounted.
“See,” she hissed at Mouse. “What’d I tell you?”
“You said he’d kill you.” She shrugged.
“I didn’t mean literally, you dope!”
“That’s enough,” Luke said. “Kareem? Want to try it? A better driver this time?”
He shook his head. “I’ll go next.”
“Can’t say I blame you, after that. Sky?”
“Okay,” she said, a little sullenly, and took her sister’s place on the sled. Luke waited while she arranged herself, feet braced, hands gripping tightly.
“You all set?” Luke asked.
She nodded.
“You sure?”
“Yes!” she crowed. “Let’s move this thing!”
“All right, then. Watch, my children, and ye shall learn. This is how it’s done.”
He urged the horse forward till the sled was directly behind him and both ends of the rope were pulled taut. He gave Blanca a nudge and they moved slowly down the drive, advancing to a fast walk, then a trot. Luke looked over his shoulder at Sky.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
“All righty, then!”
Blanca took off, nostrils flaring, hooves pounding. Snow flew into Sky’s face; the wind blew it away. Muddy loped along beside them, barking joyfully. And Sky could feel the ground beneath the sled, and the thrill of going fast and of not being quite in control—and she felt a wild rush of perfect happiness.
“Turning now,” Luke called; and she leaned into it, feeling the sled rise up as it left the drive, out among the trees, toward the barn, around it. They circled the casita and the big clump of junipers—heading straight for a small mound covered with snow.
“Daddy, no!” she screamed. “The manure pile!”
Luke laughed, skirting the mound gracefully, then headed back down the driveway again.
“Want to go faster?”
“Yes!”
He gave Blanca a good kick, and she broke into an easy canter. They were racing along, Sky almost blinded by the flying snow, when Luke reined in the horse and slowed her to a trot. Muddy dashed between the horse and the sled—a narrow, terrifying miss—and ran, barking wildly, toward the gate.
“Be right back,” Luke yelled, and waved his arm. Then he made an abrupt turn around a copse of piñons and cantered back up to the house.
Sky had been looking straight ahead. It helped her maintain her balance and gave her warning of what was coming next. But when the dog ran off, and Luke shouted, she’d glanced over at the gate.
It was only a flash, but she was sure of what she’d seen. A silver van, parked at the entrance. And a man in a dark coat, with a shaved head, his hand on the buzzer.
22
A Few More Questions
“THEY’RE AT THE GATE.”
Luke dismounted quickly and handed the reins to Mouse.
“The agents?” Ana unconsciously put her hand to her heart.
“Yes. Get Kareem into the hiding place, fast. Girls, unhitch Blanca and put her away. I’m going back down there to let them in.”
With nervous hands, Sky began untying the rope on one side of the saddle while Mouse worked on the other. The knot was tight, and Sky was trembling; she couldn’t seem to control her fingers. She made a growling sound of frustration.
“What’s the matter?”
“Shut up, Mouse.”
Finally the knots were undone. While Mouse went off to put away the sled, Sky led Blanca back to the barn.
Kareem was already in his hiding place. The panel was closed, and Ana had shoved the blanket box up against it. Now she was wiping out the drag marks with her feet.
“You missed a spot,” Sky said, pointing.
“Thanks.” Ana made another pass.
“Mom?”
“What, honey?”
“You won’t forget our story.”
“No.”
“’Cause they might split us up, you know. Question us separately. And if you say one thing and I say something different—”
“I remember, honey. We’ve been over this already.”
“Okay.”
From inside the wall, Kareem coughed.
“Shoot!” Ana said. “It’s the dust. Sky, get those cough drops out of the tack room. Quick as you can! They’re coming.”
By the time she was back, Ana had pulled the chest out from the wall and the panel was open a crack. She could see Kareem’s face in the shadows. Sky handed the box to her mom, who shook five or six jewel-like hard candies onto her palm.
“Here,” she said, giving them to Kareem. “Put these in your pocket. Keep sucking on them if you need to.”
He nodded and pushed the panel shut. Sky heard the bolt slip home.
“Give me one, too,” she said.
Ana looked surprised, but she fished one out and handed it over.
“They smell, Mom. Like cherries. If the agents smell it on me, then they won’t be curious about it. We’ll leave the box on the shelf, in plain sight, and I’ll cough a lot.”
“Smart girl,” Ana said. “Now give me a hand.”
They slid the blanket chest back into place and skated around the room, scuffing the floor, erasing footprints and drag marks again.
A car door slammed outside, then a second and third one followed: two agents plus Luke, who had ridden back to the house in the van. Mother and daughter exchanged a look of sudden panic. They scanned the room for anything that might be amiss. But there was nothing.
“All right,” Ana said. “Go get Blanca unsaddled. I’m heading back to the house to work on dinner. We’ll just try to act normal.”
“Okay.”
Sky removed Blanca’s bridle and replaced it with a halter. By the time Luke came into the barn, accompanied by one of the agents, she had the horse tied up in the breezeway and had put the bridle away.
“Sky,” Luke said, “this man wants to speak with you. He’s an agent with Homeland Security.”
It was the one with the mustache and the meaty hands.
“I met you before.”
“
Yes,” he said. “Last month, at your school. I have a few more questions to ask you.”
“Okay.” She continued unbuckling the girth on Blanca’s saddle. She really didn’t want to stand there looking the man in the eye.
“We’re fine here, Mr. Brightman. Thanks.”
“Pardon?”
“You can go on inside.”
“Sorry, but if you’re going to question my daughter, I insist on being present.”
“Hold on just a minute,” Sky said. She carried the saddle into the tack room and set it on the saddle stand. Then she came back for the blanket.
“Sorry,” she said, disappearing into the tack room again, returning this time with a towel and the grooming bucket.
“Are you finished?” the agent asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “For the moment. Go ahead, ask.”
She set to wiping Blanca down, moving around the horse so she’d be out of view as much as possible.
“All right,” he said. “When we spoke to you before, you said you left class to go use the restroom. Then you came back and said Kareem’s mother had arrived to take him to the dentist. You were gone for ten minutes according to your teacher—yet you still hadn’t made it to the restroom. See, I’m wondering about that. Seems like kind of a long time for what had to be a short conversation. What else were you doing?”
“I was talking to my mom on the phone.”
The agent looked startled, as well he might. This was a totally different story from the one she’d told at school. But Sky knew what she was doing. She was spinning her new time line, the one she’d spent hours working out that night after the family meeting. It explained everything—the phone calls, Ana’s absence from the hospital, even the reason why she’d lied.
“Really?” the man said. “That’s not what you—”
“She called to say I’d left my arts paper in the car. I gave it to my sister to read, and then when we got to school, I forgot to ask for it back. Mom noticed it when she got to the hospital and was getting her coat out of the backseat. And it’s a lucky thing, too, because the paper counts for a third of our grade, and Mrs. Cunningham hates excuses. It was really good, too. I got an A on it.”
“That’s not what you told your teacher, Sky. You said you were going to the bathroom. You said the same thing in the principal’s office, too. Want to explain that?”