Day 9 (28 page)

 

CHAPTER 66

Warpath Journal

Dateline: New Justice, New Mexico

There's almost no time left.

Quincy has crushed my windpipe like a cardboard cylinder, cutting off my breath. The only oxygen I will ever have is that which is already in my lungs.

Which means I'm only seconds away from death. And when I die, the dead man's switch on my wrist will activate the bomb around my waist.

I decide, as the last act of my life, to take as few people with me as possible.

I relax suddenly in Quincy's grip, as if I am already dead. This lulls him just enough that he lets go of my throat.

And then I throw him.

With every last bit of strength I can muster, I buck and twist my body to one side. Quincy's a big man, but I manage to knock him in the dirt.

Choking, I scramble to my feet and run. I try to get as far from Quincy and everyone else as I can.

My head feels light. Dark spots cloud my vision. My arms and legs tingle with pins and needles.

And then I fall.

I land on my hands and knees, but I refuse to give up. I keep crawling forward, putting one more yard, one more foot, one more inch between me and Quincy.

I hear him shouting behind me, and I keep going.

Until I collapse on my belly in the dirt.

 

CHAPTER 67

There was a time when Dunne would have chosen to die. When he'd had nothing to live for, no one who cared, no hope to cling to. When he'd thought he deserved to die for what he'd failed to do.

But that time was over. Day 8 was over.

Dunne half-turned and spread his arms, pointing one pistol toward whoever was sneaking up on him. The other pistol, Dunne swung around to aim at Weed.

Alerted by the sound or movement or both, Weed looked in his direction. Swept the machine guns away from Gowdy and Hannahlee.

Which is when Dunne killed him.

As soon as Weed turned, Dunne pulled the trigger on the pistol. Pulled it repeatedly.

Multiple rounds flashed toward Weed—and three hit him. One in the shoulder, one in the chest.

And one in the face.

Instantly, Weed dropped the machine guns and fell. Dunne didn't watch to see him hit the ground.

Instead, Dunne whirled to face whoever was coming behind him. Started squeezing off shots before he even got a look at who was back there.

His first shots were wild, but they put the attackers on the defensive. The two of them—a Japanese Rainbow Bride and a dark-haired gunman—were running for cover behind headstones.

Dunne was just about to fire more rounds in their direction when he got a surprise. Fresh shots flew from either side of him, picking off the bride and gunman before they could reach cover.

As the bride and gunman dropped, the ones who'd shot them stepped up to stand beside Dunne. He looked left, then right—catching sight of Gowdy, then Hannahlee.

His father and mother, who'd saved his life.

 

CHAPTER 68

 

Warpath Journal

Final Entry

The last beats of my heart are like a handful of glittering diamonds, trickling between my fingers. Falling away into endless depths of black velvet.

How strange it is, I think. How strange to lose this life.

At least I leave it as I started, as Amos. Capable of reflection and remorse. Free of madness.

I hear Quincy's voice, shouting from far away. And then his voice becomes the buzzing of crickets and katydids on a summer night in Ohio.

I am standing in a grassy field back home. The clear, black sky glitters with countless stars, like the diamonds I imagine trickling through my fingers.

Suddenly, dozens of figures emerge from the moonlit tree line, faces glowing. As they approach, walking slowly through the fluttering grass, I realize War was half-right about one thing.

From the start, War had thought that at the end of his warpath, he would be reunited with his brothers and sisters. He was half-right about that.

The ones who approach me now are not
his
brothers and sisters, the imaginary Weeping Willows...but they are
mine
.

Every face from my vision of the bloody church is here. Every face from the Community that will always be my truest home.

I see every elder and child, man and woman, boy and girl. I see my mother and father and brothers. I see my bride-to-be.

All of them stepping silently through the field. Beards and dresses rippling in the gentle breeze. Everyone smiling.

They close around me in a circle, reaching out for me. I feel the warmth of their embrace before they touch me, but I do not fear it. Even though I know they are dead.

Because I am dead, too.

A shooting star flashes across the summer night sky. I smile up at it as their arms wrap around me, weightless.

It is the last

diamond.

 

CHAPTER 69

After War blew up, Dunne found someone who looked like Quincy sheltered behind a headstone.

Dunne called for Hannahlee, who was taking care of Leif, and then he dropped to one knee. "Quincy? Can you hear me?"

The man who looked like Quincy shook his head. "Not...Quincy." He brushed at the shrapnel embedded in his bruised, bloody face. "My name is Knox."

Dunne frowned. "May I talk to Quincy? Gilbert, I mean?"

"Gone," said Knox. "Gone for good."

"Are you sure?" said Dunne.

"He was never here, anyway." Knox coughed. "Gilbert died twenty years ago. Because of me."

"I thought it was the other way around," said Dunne. "Quincy said Knox was the one who died."

"He lied," said Knox. "I lied."

"Oh." Dunne slumped. After all they'd been through together, he'd ended up thinking of Quincy as a friend...but apparently, Quincy was gone, lost in the battle or explosion. A few weeks ago, Dunne wouldn't have believed it was possible, but he was disappointed at the thought of never hearing from the goofball again.

Just then, Hannahlee rushed over with a first-aid kit she'd brought with her from Gowdy's cave. She immediately set to work, pulling antiseptics and bandages from the kit. "You were pretty close to that explosion. It's a miracle you're alive, Quincy."

"No miracle," said Knox. "Quincy's dead."

Hannahlee stared at Knox, fixing him in her fiery green gaze. "Well," she said, "you don't look so hot right now, but I actually think you'll live."

"My name is Knox."

Hannahlee switched her burning green gaze to Dunne. "This might be a case of traumatic brain injury."

"Quincy is gone," said Knox. "But he did leave one last message for the both of you."

"What's that?" said Dunne.

"Something called 'Pornsleeves.' It's his last slashfic filk song." Knox cleared his throat.

Then, to the tune of "Greensleeves," he sang in a cracked, wobbly voice. "Are you going...to have a three-way? Gowdy, Dunne, and sweet Hannahleeee.

"Remember to shoot it...on videota-ape. It's the closest you'll get to a new
Willows
movie."

Knox went on from there, singing more verses, each one filthier than the last.

And Dunne, who once had cringed at Sweet Quincy Windsor's raunchy slashfic filk and everything about that eccentric weirdo, laughed so hard that tears ran down his face.

 

EPILOGUE

Barcelona, Spain - Today

They are the first visitors of the day. They arrive under perfect sapphire skies and wall-to-wall sunshine.

There are three of them: an old man with short, silver hair and red-framed glasses; a woman his age with red hair and bright green eyes; and a middle-aged man with sandy brown hair and a goatee.

I watch them closely. Even as other tourists arrive, my attention does not stray from these three.

The silver-haired man is especially excited. He can't keep his hands off me. The smile never leaves his face.

"I can't believe I'm finally here." His hand shakes as he touches a piece of my Nativity façade. "That
we're
finally here."

The woman touches his shoulder. "I'm glad we get to share it."

"Our first family vacation." The younger man says it sarcastically...but without malice, I think. "Next year, let's take the camper to the Grand Canyon."

Slowly, they make their way around me, lingering at every feature. At the rate they're going, they might spend all day just on the outside of me.

"You were right." The woman smiles and takes the old man's hand. "This place is incredible."

"The
Sagrada
Família
, it's called. The 'sacred family.'" The old man nods at the woman, then at the young man. "You're
my
sacred family."

"Who only just
met
each other three months ago," says the young man.

The old man shrugs. "That's a good thing, isn't it? It means we can't be sick of each other yet."

"You can't just throw people together and call them a family." The young man hangs his head. "You can't replace the families that went before. The ones we've lost."

"We can try." The old man lets go of the woman's hand and runs up to a passing stranger, a teenage girl. Gives the girl his camera and asks her to take a picture of him and his family.

They pose in front of my Nativity façade. The old man wraps his arms around the woman and the young man's shoulders.

"Mom, Dad, and Dunne." The old man smiles wide. "We'll put this one on our Christmas cards this year."

The young man shakes his head and smirks. "You're a real
fomedian
, you know that, Pop?"

"We'll sign it 'the Gowdys,'" says the old man.

And that is when I figure it out. When I realize why these people got my attention.

They are a sign.

They have the same name as my maker—"Gowdy," like "Gaudí." What else could they be?

They have brought me a message from him.

I have often wondered about my maker's plans for me. Why he designed me and set my construction in motion.

He must have known that he would never see me finished in his lifetime. Over one hundred and twenty-five years after my birth, and his successors are
still
not done building me.

Looking back, I no longer think he believed I would relieve his loneliness. I can't imagine he thought I would surpass mankind or take flight or redeem the sinners of the world, either.

I don't think my purpose has much to do with permanence, accomplishment...or enlightenment. I doubt I will ever fully understand my existence.

Perhaps it was just this. Maybe this is all I need.

"Smile," says the girl with the camera.

"Say 'Gaudí'," says the old man, and then he and his family say it together.

I say it with them.
Gaudí
.

And the girl takes our picture. The Sacred Family and the Sagrada Família. Together.

All of us smiling.

Maybe this is all anyone ever needs.

To find each other in a crowd. Kindred spirits coexisting for an instant of time.

To cobble together a family wherever we can. Whenever we can.

To forget the horrors and losses of the past, no matter how painful. To forgive our own mistakes.

To be able to move on.

***

Special Preview:
THE MASKED FAMILY

 

Chapter One

Wheeling, West Virginia, 2010

Though Cary Beacon knew in his heart that heroic measures would soon be called for, he left behind his super-hero costume. After all, it was only the costume of a make-believe hero from comic books and movies. Cary just wore it to make money by showing up at kids' birthday parties or car dealerships.

It had nothing to do with the fact that he was a real-life super-hero.

He laid the blue tights and red cape on the bed and stared at them for a moment. He would just have to be a hero as he was—bony tall body, red hair streaked blonde, beat-to-hell leather jacket and jeans, red t-shirt with comic book sound effect "POW!" in black block letters in a jagged yellow starburst on the chest. He knew it wouldn't matter what he looked like as long as he managed to save his kids.

Cary stopped staring at the costume and went back to packing. If he wanted to save his kids, he had to hurry.

Well, they weren't really his kids, at least by blood. In fact, the people who had taken them were their actual birth parents, their genuine mommy and daddy.

That didn't mean the kids belonged with them, though.

Cary charged through the trailer, gathering up clothes and odds and ends and pitching them in Wal-Mart shopping bags. His ex-girlfriend, Crystal Shade, had taken the suitcases at the same time she'd taken the kids.

Cary shouldered the screen door open, raced down the battered wooden steps, and chucked his loaded shopping bags into the back seat of his taxi. Without closing the car's door, he bolted back inside the trailer to grab a few last things.

He bagged what little food was left in the place, which amounted to a jar of peanut butter, half a loaf of bread, two apples, and three cans of SpaghettiOs. He yanked the sheets, blankets, and pillow from the bed and threw them in the cab, too. Beyond that, Crystal had pretty much cleaned the place out. While Cary had been hard at work driving fares around town, she'd been stealing the kids he loved and everything he owned.

Almost everything.

Kneeling in the rear corner of the bedroom, Cary peeled up the stubbly gray carpet. Jamming the blade of his pocket knife into a crack in the floor, he pried up a square of plywood.

Sweat ran down his back and sides as he reached into the hole and drew out a manila envelope. He undid the clasp and folded back the flap, then pushed his hand inside.

He pulled out a rubber-banded wad of money and dropped it on the carpet, then reached back in to fish out what he really wanted.

As his fingers closed around the familiar shape, he felt a surge of relief. Crystal hadn't taken everything, hadn't even found this hiding place.

Super-heroes need good hiding places because they've got so much to hide.

Crystal didn't even know the Starbeam Ring existed. Cary had lived with her for over a year, and he'd never shown it to her or even mentioned it.

Thank God thank God thank God.

Holding up the ring, he watched the light gleam on its faceted surface. To the uninitiated, it might look like a hunk-a-junk kids' toy from a gumball machine, molded from see-through blue plastic.

Only Cary and the rest of his super-hero teammates, the Nuclear Family, would know better. They would know at a glance that this was a Starbeam Ring, said to bestow super powers on its wearer.

Not that any of them would believe that the ring really did bestow powers...except Cary, that is.

The rest of the Nuclear Family—Cary's brother and two sisters—all had rings of their own. They all agreed that their father, who had given them the rings in the first place, had made up the story of the Starbeam Rings just to stoke their imaginations when they were kids.

"When you need your powers most, they will come to you," their father had told them solemnly, back before the oldest of them had turned ten. "Always remember that when the chips are down, your secret powers will save the day."

The others had stopped believing, but not Cary. He still thought that when he truly needed his powers the most, the ring would activate them. Even though they had let him down before, again and again, he still believed.

Even though, years ago, when he'd never needed them more, they'd failed him...and someone he'd loved had paid the price.

This time won't be like before. Nobody dies this time.

He slid the ring onto the only finger small enough to fit through it—his left pinky. He stuffed the wad of bills, his secret savings, back into the manila envelope, and got to his feet.

Just then, his cell phone rang.

Pulling it from the pocket of his bluejeans, Cary stared at the glowing blue caller I.D. screen embedded in the shell. Instantly, he recognized the number displayed there.

It was the number of the cell phone he'd given little Glo for her birthday a month ago, in case of emergency. The phone he'd made her promise to keep secret from her mother, who'd been starting to make him suspicious.

He snapped his phone open and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?" He kept his voice low so the caller would be the only one to hear it.

"Help." The voice on the line was midway between a whisper and a squeak. "Please help us."

Cary had a thousand questions, but he knew the little girl wouldn't be able to talk for long. "Where are you, Glo?"

"Bathroom." Glo sounded like she was on the verge of breaking into sobs. "At the airport."

Rage swirled deep in Cary's heart. Crystal had planned her escape well. "Which airport?"

"Arizona somewhere." Glo paused, and Cary heard a woman's voice in the background. "Gotta go!" she said. "Mommy's calling."

"Is Late okay?" said Cary.

"Yeah," said Glo. "Bye!"

"Call next time you have a chance," Cary said quickly. "Don't let them find your phone."

He wasn't sure if Glo had heard him, because the call was dead by then.

As he closed the phone and slid it back into his pocket, he wished that Glo had given him more details about her location. At least he knew that she and her brother, Late, were okay.

For the moment, anyway. The key now was to catch up before the monster could hurt them...the monster otherwise known as Crystal's new boyfriend, Drill. He was also her boyfriend from years ago, long before Cary came along.

And he was Glo and Late's father...but no less a monster for having brought such great kids into the world.

Just thinking about Drill and what he might do to Glo and Late was enough to throw Cary into high gear. He didn't even take the time for a last look around the trailer on his way out.

He switched off the lights and darted outside, letting the screen door bang shut behind him. He didn't bother locking the door, because nothing of value was left inside.

Nothing mattered anymore except the kids, and saving them from the bad guys.

As much of a rush as he was in, Cary hesitated once he got behind the wheel of his cab. For a moment, as he thought about the job ahead of him, he felt overwhelmed.

Crystal and Drill had a huge head start. Cary didn't even know exactly where they were. Drill, especially, was tough enough that he'd probably kick Cary's ass if he
did
catch up to them.

Looks like a job for the Nuclear Family.

Unfortunately, as much as Cary would've loved having some Nuclear Family backup, he knew it wasn't coming. His brothers and sisters had abandoned the super-hero life long ago. Cary had held out hope for a reunion longer than any of them, but even he had finally given up on the team.

His brothers and sisters just didn't care about being super-heroes anymore. The fate of Glo and Late was up to him and him alone.

Cary took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel.

Only The Hurry can come to the rescue this time! Don't miss this pulse-pounding solo adventure of the Nuclear Family's own human sonic boom!

With a steely gaze and a grim expression, he threw the cab into gear and stomped on the accelerator. Gravel spun out from under the tires as the car leaped away from the trailer and hurtled off down the road at more than twice the legal speed limit.