Blue Noon (28 page)

“See you later, Jess,” Beth taunted from the front door.

Jessica didn’t answer, and the door slammed with a booming note of finality. She looked at her watch, her stomach slowly winding itself into knots.

Only five forty-five, and already Samhain was off to a brilliant start.

“Can you still taste him?”

“Relax, Flyboy.” Melissa shook her head. “He’s headed off down Division.”

Jonathan let the car speed up again but glanced in the rearview one more time. Relaxing didn’t seem like such a good idea at the moment. Cops were crawling all over Bixby tonight, hoping to catch Halloween vandals and impose curfew on any kids who’d stayed out late after trick-or-treating. And of course, the sheriff’s department were dying to find whoever had stolen all those fireworks before they were put to use.

The fact that Jonathan’s trunk contained about half of the collection of firecrackers, smoke bombs, Roman candles, sparklers, and rockets of every description certainly didn’t fill him with relaxing thoughts.

“Just let me know if he comes this way again.”

“Don’t worry about the cops. I can taste those rednecks a mile off.”

He leaned forward to look up into the roiling sky, a flicker of lightning illuminating the clouds from within. “What do you figure about that rain?”

“In general, Jonathan, storm fronts don’t have minds. So I have no idea.”

He let out a short laugh, only half sure that she was kidding. Melissa wasn’t usually Jonathan’s favorite traveling companion, but he was glad she was with him tonight. He was too nervous to ride around alone, especially with the police hunting for what was in his trunk.

“All excited about tonight?” she asked.

“Nervous.”

It was Melissa’s turn to laugh. “Jonathan, I know you’re not completely dreading this.”

He sighed. There was no point in bluffing a mindcaster. The night before had been one long flying dream, a half-anxious, half-thrilled rehearsal in his mind.

Jonathan shrugged. “It’s something different.”

“That’s what I like about Bixby: always something different.”

“What about you?” he asked. “A whole day without… what do you call it? Mind noise? Isn’t that your dream?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Melissa said. “But as the rip grows, all those other minds will be sucked in, polluting our
midnight.
Frankly, Flyboy, I wish the secret hour would just stay between the five of us forever.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said softly. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but in addition to all the death and destruction, midnight was about to become something public, something less special. “Me too.”

They pulled onto Jessica’s street, five minutes early.

She was already outside and ran to the car, pulling open the door even before he’d rolled to a stop. She threw herself into the backseat and said, “Okay. Go.”

“Relax, Jess,” he said. “We’re ahead of schedule.”

“I need to get out there early, okay?”

For a moment Jonathan wondered what she meant, but then, slowly but surely, the only possible explanation crept into his mind.

“Beth?”

“Just… drive.”

“She gave you trouble tonight?” Jonathan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, okay? By the time the sun comes up tomorrow, thousands of people will have seen the blue time for themselves. The secret’s over!”

“I know all that.” Her voice was tight, afraid. “But we have to get moving. Beth’s in trouble.”

He put the car back in gear, easing into the center of the street. “She’s not still out trick-or-treating, is she?”

“Much worse. She’s in Jenks.”

“
What
?”

“She’s spending the night with Cassie Flinders.”

Melissa put a hand to her head. “Guys…”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “But that’s right next to the rip!”

“I
know
!” Jessica cried.

“Guys!” Melissa said, her head tipping back, eyes closed. “Shush your minds!”

Jonathan brought the car to a stop at the next light, looking both ways and then into the rearview mirror, trying to think quiet, relaxed thoughts… and failing.

“Turn left,” Melissa suddenly whispered. “Don’t wait for the light.”

Jonathan spun the wheel and accelerated, whipping the car onto Kerr Street.

“He saw us. He knows your car…” She twitched. “Crap. It’s St. Claire.”

Sheriff Clancy St. Claire—Jonathan’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel as he imagined the lawman’s grinning face. The sheriff could recognize Jonathan’s car from a mile away.

“Which way?” he hissed.

Melissa shook her head. “Don’t know yet. Can’t feel any other cars, but he’s calling it in.”

Jonathan breathed through clenched teeth. They didn’t have much time to get clear of St. Claire. Soon there would be another cop car involved in the pursuit and then another—Bixby police never did things in small numbers. By the time midnight rolled around, they’d all be in handcuffs and miles out of position. Totally unable to help Beth or anyone else, for that matter.

“Hang on,” he said, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, speeding down Kerr. A few seconds later lights spun in his rearview mirror, the whoop of a siren splitting the night.

“Oh, no,” Jessica said softly. It occurred to Jonathan mat she’d been taken home by the cops right after she arrived in Bixby—part of her introduction to the hazards of the midnight hour.

“Don’t worry, Jess. We’ll get there.” He spun the wheel again, turning onto a small residential road called Mallard and hoping there weren’t any trick-or-treaters still out. Fortunately he’d flown over Jessica’s part of town dozens of times and could visualize it perfectly from a bird’s-eye view. Mallard took a winding route toward downtown, then branched into two roads a mile before hitting the highway.

If he could just get to the fork before Clancy caught sight of them again, they’d have a fifty-fifty chance of getting away. Which was better than nothing.

They swerved along the winding street, shooting through the narrow straights between parked cars. Jonathan had to force himself to look ahead instead of checking the rearview mirror.

Then—with a sudden
whack!
—something struck the windshield, and Jonathan felt the steering wheel slip from his fingers. Tires squealed for a moment before he pulled the car straight again.

“What was that?” Jessica shouted.

“I don’t…” Jonathan started, then saw a delta of yellowish goo oozing upward on his windshield, spreading wider as it was pushed by the wind of their passage. A tiny white fragment clung to the ooze, fluttering for a moment before it was ripped away.

“Just kids,” Melissa said. “And I think they’ve got a few more eggs for St. Claire’s car.”

Lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating the goo as it crawled across the windshield.

They reached the fork, and Jonathan veered left. Another mile ahead was the highway that led toward Jenks.

“Wait! Stop!” Melissa suddenly shouted.

“Do
what?”

“Pull over and park! Clancy’s backup just turned onto this street. They’re right in front of us!”

Jonathan squashed his foot down on the brakes, bringing a screech from the tires. He swerved the car in behind a camper van and switched off the lights and motor.

“What are you doing?” Jessica cried from the backseat. “We can’t just sit here!”

“We’re not just sitting, Jess!” Melissa hissed. “We’re hiding!”

“It’s okay, Jess. We’ll get there.” Jonathan hoped it wasn’t an empty promise.

He slid himself under the wheel, one hand still clutching the dangling car keys. He wondered how fast he could get the engine started again if the other cop recognized his car.

Of course, if they pulled in behind them, they’d all be stuck here behind the camper van….

“Here they come,” Melissa whispered, huddled against the passenger door.

Jonathan heard the swoosh of tires whipping by and listened for the sound of them slowing. But no lights flashed, no siren sounded, and gradually the car faded into the distance.

“They’re gone,” Melissa said. “And Clancy’s headed the other way. He thinks he’s got us now.”

Jonathan let out a slow sigh of relief, but as he pulled himself back up into his seat, his heart sank.

A few raindrops had already spattered on the windshield. As he watched, they began to fall more swiftly, diluting the egg goo and catching the flicker of lightning like a hundred glowing eyes.

Thunder rumbled again, this time right over their heads.

He looked at his watch. They still had time to get to Jenks, but by midnight it would be raining like crazy.

“Perfect night for fireworks,” he said, turning the engine back on and putting the car in gear.

Rex threw himself at the roof door again, ignoring the horror that trembled through his body at the sharp smell of its bright, unrusted steel. As his shoulder hit, the door pushed outward another few inches.

“Can you fit through there yet?” he asked.

Dess looked at the narrow gap between the door and its frame. “No way.”

Rex stepped back and hissed through his teeth. He and Jonathan had been up here just the night before to dump off most of the fireworks, and this door had been unlocked. Now it was secured with a chain an inch wide and a padlock as big as his fist.

Rex hit the door again, his shoulder banging against steel with a dull thud, pulling the chain tauter and winning another inch of space.

“Still too small,” Dess said.

Rex cursed. The fireworks show at Jenks wouldn’t keep the darklings at bay for a whole twenty-five hours. They couldn’t afford for this part of the plan to fail.

They’d chosen an empty building on the west side of town, tall enough that it could be seen from pretty much everywhere in Bixby. Once the rip reached downtown, anyone who was awake would notice that their TVs, radios, and phones weren’t working. Hopefully when they stumbled out of their houses and into the blue time, they would spot the shower of rockets shooting up from this roof. Anyone who made it here could shelter under the protection of the flame-bringer until the long midnight ended.

But the first trick was to make sure as many people as possible were awake at midnight. And to do that, they had to get out to the roof, where Dess’s makeshift bomb lay hidden.

Thunder rolled overhead, and Rex smelled a change in the air.

“Oh, crap.” He thrust his hand out through the crack in the door, and a few drops struck his palm. “Perfect. It’s raining.”

“You guys covered the fireworks with plastic, didn’t you?” Dess asked.

Rex just looked at her. There’d been so much preparing and planning this last week, rain was one thing that had slipped his mind. The fireworks were on the other side of the door, outside, hidden under some old cardboard boxes. They’d be reduced to a soggy, useless mass if they didn’t get out there soon.

“Didn’t you hear the weather report?” Dess cried. “They’ve been predicting rain all week!”

“I can’t watch TV anymore.” Since Madeleine had unleashed the darkling part of his mind, the clever, human flickering box in his father’s house gave him fits to look at.

Dess groaned.

Rex took a few steps back, as much of a running start as he could get in the small stairwell shed, and threw himself against the door again. It budged outward another inch against the chain. Still not enough gap between door and frame to squeeze out onto the roof.

The rain outside was falling harder now.

Rex noticed that the metal was bending outward from the center, where the chain held it. Maybe if he focused on pounding the bottom half of the door, he could open up enough room to crawl through.

He drew his foot back and kicked the metal, sending another booming sound echoing down the stairwell.

Dess looked down the stairs. “Jeez, Rex. Make some more noise, why don’t you?”

“I didn’t smell anyone on the way in.”

“But if someone locked that door today, they might still be around.”

“So?” he said. “At least they might have the key.”

“They might have a gun too.”

“Humans don’t scare me anymore.” He gave the metal another kick; it scraped outward a little farther. Inside his cowboy boot Rex’s foot stung, but he ignored the pain, focusing on raising up the darkness inside himself.

Black spots appeared in the corners of his eyes, and he felt his body shifting within his skin. Pain turned to anger, and he began to thrash at the door harder and harder, ignoring the damage it was doing to his foot.

Wild thoughts eclipsed his human mind: the flat metal expanse was his enemy, the clever alloys inside it an abomination. He had to escape this human structure and get out under the open sky.

The door buckled and twisted under his assault, its bottom hinges tearing from the wall. Flakes of paint flew from the battered metal, which cried out dully with every kick. Finally the ring that held the chain snapped off, and the entire door tumbled outward onto the roof, like a drunk passing out cold.

“What the hell, Rex,” Dess said softly. “Are you okay?”

Rex got himself under control, letting the darkness fade, taking deep breaths and feeling the pain swell in his right foot.

“Owj” he said softly, turning to the stair rail to peer down. If anyone was in the building, they must have heard that.

But no sound of approaching feet met his ears.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re behind schedule.”

He followed Dess out onto the roof, every limping step pure agony. The cold rain fell on his face and hands, stronger now.

The fireworks were still there under the rain-spattered boxes, still dry. Ignoring his foot, Rex helped Dess drag the whole pile across the black tar and through the door into the shelter of the stairwell.

He checked his watch: four minutes to midnight.

Dess started throwing the boxes down the stairs, clearing some room in the tiny stairwell shed. The bomb sat atop the other fireworks, a paint can with a three-foot fuse protruding from its top.

“There’s my baby,” Dess said with a smile.