Running Out of Time (8 page)

Jessie stopped grinning. She counted the rings. Eleven, twelve .. . twenty . . . twenty-five. ... Still, no one answered. Jessie waited longer. The ringing began to hurt her ears.

Finally Jessie eased the phone back in its cradle. She tried to remember if Ma had said anything about this. Yes: "You may not reach Mr. Neeley at first. He may not be home to answer. If that happens, you'll have to wait and try again."

Slowly, Jessie put the phone's club-thing back in its cradle. She could wait if she had to. But could Katie and the other sick children?

Jessie stood next to the phone, trying to decide how long she should wait before dialing Mr. Neeley's number again. And then she felt the bump from behind. She half turned and saw a man slipping. His limbs jolted outward; his left arm brushed the note from Ma and knocked it to the ground. The force of his fall brought Jessie down, too.

"Oh, excuse me," the man said. "You aren't hurt, are you? I'm so clumsy. Looks like I haven't broken in this new pair of feet yet."

Jessie scrambled to her feet and looked at the man suspiciously. His fall reminded her of the way Chester Seward and Richard Dunlap sometimes acted during recess at school, knocking down girls "by accident" so they could look up the girls' skirts. But this man was an adult, and Jessie was wearing pants like a boy.

Then the man picked up Ma's note and looked at it.

No! Jessie wanted to scream. What if the man was from Clifton? Should she run? But she couldn't get help without Ma's note—

"This must be yours," the man said casually, handing the scrap of paper to Jessie. "I am so sorry. Are you done with the phone? That was really why I walked over here, not to put you in traction. You are all right, aren't you?"

"Y-yes," Jessie stammered, clutching the note.

The man turned away, took out a notebook from his jacket, and seemed to be writing something down. Then he picked up the phone.

Jessie backed away from the man, her thoughts jumbled. The man couldn't be from Clifton, because he would have captured her right there. Wouldn't he? But why had he knocked her down? Why had he looked at her note? What had he written?

Jessie wanted to believe the man had nothing to do with her or Clifton. Still, she couldn't shake her fear. Blindly, she turned and ran.

Risking one glance over her shoulder, Jessie saw that the man was still talking on the phone. She kept on. The man had acted so strangely and was dressed so strangely—he wore a blue shirt with an odd strip of flowered cloth hanging down from his neck. But everyone seemed odd to Jessie outside Clifton. . . .

Panting, Jessie slowed down. She couldn't run forever. And she had to keep looking for a phone. Now that she knew they had blue signs above them, she would surely find another one soon. And then she'd get help for Katie and the oth

ers, and she wouldn't have to worry anymore about whether the strange people she saw were or were not on Miles Clifton's side.

But Jessie walked miles without seeing another one of the blue phone signs. She wondered if she should have stayed by the phone at the Stopping Point, in spite of the strange man. She worried about the puzzle even Ma didn't understand— why did anyone want the children of Clifton to die of diphtheria? Mrs. Spurning, the guide for the tourists back at Clifton, had said Clifton residents got modern medical care, so the tourists must not care if Clifton was totally authentic. How could anyone want Katie—sweet little Katie—to die? Or Betsy Benton? Or any of the Clifton children?

Jessie blinked back tears and walked faster. She had to find a phone. When she got hungry again, she didn't stop, but pulled a hunk of bread out of her pack and ate while she walked. She paused only for a moment to gulp down the last of the papaya juice. It left a too-sweet taste in her mouth. She longed for ordinary water. But the fat environmentalist's warning about poison water made her leery of drinking from any of the streams she crossed. Anyhow, there wasn't time to stop.

Jessie passed woods almost as dense as those around Clifton, and felt slightly better because that meant the Clifton woods weren't the last in the world. After a few miles, though, the landscape flattened out, and there were no more trees or hills to remind her of home. Except for the ditches on each side of the big road, the land was almost perfectly level. Long fences marked off enormous fields. Jessie recognized small corn plants growing in even rows in one of the fields. She marveled at the farmer who could plant so much. Mr. Atkins, who had the biggest fields in Clifton, only planted twenty rows of corn each spring, and bragged about it. This field had hundreds. And then there was another field just like it.

People must work really hard out here, Jessie thought. She hated hoeing just the little field that Pa kept.

Jessie's legs felt rubbery, just like they did after a long day of hoeing corn. She was sure she'd been walking for hours. The sun was sinking low in the sky now. In Clifton, school would have been out long ago, and all the children in the village would be doing their chores. Jessie wondered if Hannah had to do Jessie's and Katie's chores as well as her own. Bet she was complaining!

Jessie grinned at the thought of Hannah having to do everything. But Hannah wouldn't be any good helping Ma on her sick rounds. Hannah didn't even like to hear someone sneeze. Ma would probably run herself ragged tonight trying to help all the sick children. But from what Ma had said, she couldn't do much. She was counting on Jessie to bring the cure.

Jessie looked around, frantically searching for one of the blue phone signs. What if she didn't find a phone and reach Mr. Neeley before dark? What if she had to walk all the way to Indianapolis?

To distract herself, Jessie tried to remember everything she knew about the state's capital. Reverend Holloway had been there, and sometimes talked about what a sinful place it was. It was founded on a lie, he said.

When he wasn't around, though, Pa and some of the other men in Clifton laughed about how the settlers near

Indianapolis had tricked the state. About fifteen years ago, not long before Clifton was founded, the state decided the capital should be in the middle of Indiana, not down by the Ohio River in Corydon. So the state officials sent scouts up, and the settlers around Indianapolis told the scouts what a great place Indianapolis was, because it was easily reached on the White River. Except—boats couldn't go that far up the White River. You could only get to Indianapolis by stagecoach, and everyone knew that was hard.

"Well, those settlers fooled the state, but now we're stuck with a capital that'll never amount to anything," Pa always said when the others laughed too hard.

Jessie tried to remember what else she'd heard. It seemed there wasn't anything in Indianapolis except the legislature building and a couple others. Maybe there were more now. Or—maybe there were fewer. Ma hadn't said whether Indianapolis was still the capital in 1996.

Jessie kept walking.

Soon she could tell from the angle of the setting sun that the road was turning more to the east. Was that a problem? Ma had said this road went all the way to Indianapolis, but that had been years ago and maybe they'd moved the road or—

Jessie rounded a curve and saw an odd set of lights hanging over the road. While she watched, a green light at the bottom went out, and was replaced by a yellow light above it. Then the yellow light went out and a red light came on. The cars that had breezed by Jessie screeched to a stop before the red light.

Jessie stared. Now, how did that work? There didn't seem to be anyone around to change the lights. Looking around

curiously, Jessie saw a sight that made her forget the lights. Off to the left, just beyond the road, was a cluster of about thirty houses and other buildings.

Jessie must have walked farther than she thought. This had to be Indianapolis.

Jessie was so excited, she didn't see the brown car until it was almost beside her. It was going the wrong way, backward. A boy with greasy hair sprang out.

"Get in!" he yelled at Jessie.

Jessie was too stunned to do anything but stare. The boy had a gold loop in one ear and Jessie thought instantly of pirates. The car shook beside him. Jessie saw a gaping hole surrounded by rust at the bottom of one door. The car wasn't shiny like the ones she'd seen back at Clifton. But what if the boy worked for Miles Clifton? Or—she'd heard one man back at Clifton talk about a prison—Jessie could believe this boy had escaped from a prison.

"I don't, I mean—" Jessie tried to sound calm, but her voice shook.

The boy laughed at her confusion. So did the driver of the car. All Jessie could see of him was a leg covered in ripped blue jeans.

"Hear that, Tol?" the boy said. "We back half a mile down 37 to pick up this hitchhiker and she don't even say thanks. Where you going, sugar?"

Jessie had never heard of a "hitchhiker." And she had never been called "sugar" before. Both words were ugly the way he said them.

"I'm going to Indianapolis," Jessie said. "It's right up there, so 1 don't need a ride."

She gazed longingly at the cluster of buildings near the odd green-yellow-red light. Was that?—she thought she saw a blue sign outside one of the buildings. So even if she couldn't find Mr. Neeley's house, maybe she could find a phone. If only she could get away from these boys.

The boy cackled. Jessie calculated that he was too close— if she tried to run, he could grab her instantly.

"You think that's Indianapolis?" he asked, pointing at the village ahead.

"Isn't it?" Was he trying to trick her?

The boy doubled over with laughter.

"Can you believe it, Tol?" he said. "She thinks that's Indianapolis!" He turned back to Jessie. "What planet were you born on, sugar? Let me clue you in to some Earth info— that little dump over there is Waverly—how many people you think live in Waverly, Tol?"

"Fifty," came from inside the car.

"Okay, fifty," the first boy said with a smirk. "And, see, no skyscrapers—big, tall buildings, you know? Indianapolis is about fifteen miles thataway, as they say in the movies, and a million people live there, and they have lots of skyscrapers. But don't worry. We'll take you there. Now, get in!"

He reached for Jessie's wrist and she pulled back. Maybe Indianapolis was still fifteen miles away. But there was no way she was getting in the car.

The boy lurched unsteadily toward her, and Jessie stepped back again. Despite her fright, Jessie thought maybe she understood something. The boy smelled like—was that alcohol? Not many men in Clifton drank—certainly not near any females—but Reverend Holloway waxed poetic on the evils associated with "likker." This boy might do anything. Or— he might be drunk enough Jessie could fool him. If she could just figure out what he was talking about.

"You thought I was a, uh, hitchhiker?" she asked, trying to make her voice sound as though it was a ridiculous idea. Whatever it was.

"Quit playing dumb," the boy snapped. "Tol and me don't want to wait. Oh—and we've all got to get to In-di-a-nap-po-lees."

He said the last part in a sticky-sweet voice. Jessie didn't move. The boy grabbed for her elbow. She jerked away. The momentum almost toppled the boy and he fell back against the car. Jessie couldn't help laughing.

The driver got out of the car. He had on a black T-shirt with his ripped jeans, and for a minute Jessie thought he might be the Megadeth boy from the Stopping Point. But his hair was long and stringy like his friend's, not cropped.

"Come on," he said smoothly. "Don't mind Ray. You should come with us before—before someone comes along who might hurt you. A little girl like you shouldn't be out hitchhiking. All sorts of dangerous people are out on the road. Get in the car and we'll protect you."

"Stop it, Tol. You're killing me!" Ray said, leaning on the car, laughing.

Tol circled the car toward Jessie. Jessie backed up. Tol didn't seem as drunk as Ray, but she couldn't be sure. Really, she couldn't be sure of anything. She'd never seen anybody actually drunk, except the pig when Andrew gave him too many rotten apples. And the pig was stupid enough beforehand.

"Now, Ray, you're scaring her," Tol said, giving Ray a mean look. Slowly, without seeming to, he took another step toward Jessie.

Jessie took another step back. In a minute, she'd be in the ditch, and the ditch here had water flowing in it. Her heart pounded. She might have been able to outrun Ray, but not Tol. Think, she told herself. You have to outsmart them.

Tol moved closer to Jessie. In a second, he'd be able to grab her.

"I'm not really going to Indianapolis," Jessie lied. "And I know where it is. I live over there in, uh, Waverly. I'm just taking a walk to—"

She paused, then remembered the fat environmentalist.

"I'm just taking a walk to lose weight."

Tol stopped.

"You're not fat," he said.

"Well—" Jessie watched him edge closer to her. "You leave me alone or I'll get my pa!"

"Pa?" By the car, Ray shrieked. "Pa? I haven't heard that since my little sister watched Little House on the Prairie."

"My pa's a big man," Jessie said. But her voice sounded uncertain even to her. What should she have called her father?

"Urn—right," Tol said. "He'll be glad me and Ray are taking care of you."

His grin was too much. Jessie was so dazed by it that she didn't see his final step. A second later, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist.

"Leave me alone!" Jessie screamed. She couldn't control her panic anymore. She yanked her arm away, turned, and ran.

She expected Tol to grab her again immediately. She was sure he was following her. Her wrist burned where he'd touched her.

"Help! Pa!" she screamed for effect. Then, because it felt good to call for Pa, even if she knew he couldn't hear her, she screamed again, "Pa! Pa!"

Still, no arms grabbed her. Jessie glanced over her shoulder. Ray and Tol were still standing by the car, watching her uncertainly. Maybe they did believe she lived in Waverly.

A fence separated the big road, 37, from the houses, and Jessie didn't want to slow down long enough to climb it. She turned by the green-yellow-red light and ran into a building that said KFC on the outside.

Shaking and panting, she paused just inside the door. She looked out the long wall of glass, but couldn't see Ray or Tol or their brown car anywhere. Had they left? Would they come back? Did they work for Miles Clifton?

"It's okay, it's okay," Jessie repeated to herself. "Oh, please, God, make it okay."

There was another door leading into the building, and Jessie finally pushed her way on in. She found herself in a large room full of tables and chairs and the tantalizing smell of cooked chicken. It_was some sort of restaurant—Jessie had heard of such things, but she thought they were only in cities. Evidently she was wrong about something else. Once, she

would have been fascinated—and hungry—but now she was too scared to care. She huddled against the wall for a long time before she got the nerve to walk over to a long silver counter. A woman about Ma's age stood there watching Jessie.

"Are you all right, honey?" the woman said.

Her sympathetic tone almost made Jessie cry. But she just shrugged. Maybe she couldn't trust this woman either.

"Is this Waverly?" Jessie asked.

"Yes," the woman said.

So Ray and Tol hadn't been lying about that. The disappointment hit Jessie like a wave.

"Is there a phone here?" she asked.

The woman pointed to a door opposite the one Jessie had used.

"Thanks," Jessie mumbled.

Jessie found the phone in a small entryway between doors. Her legs still shook, and she felt more like sobbing than talking. But she put her quarter into the opening at the top and punched the buttons like before, this time remembering the 1 first. Then, when asked, she put in more money.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

And then there was a click.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" Jessie said, almost daring to hope. "Is this Mr. Neeley?"

"Yes. Who is this?"