Wheels (32 page)

There was no use checking the contents, she had no idea what Hayes carried in it. Happy she could at least return it to him, she slipped it over the back of her chair and turned toward the chest.

Though the chest was just as Soliis said it would be, McKenzie couldn’t bring herself to feel grateful. He had led them straight into a trap, all for a bag of cobaca froot.

A trap!
McKenzie suddenly noticed how quiet it was. Wells was expecting her. Had he forgotten? Was she too late, or….

Quickly, she rolled over to the window and cracked open a shutter. The room was uncomfortably stuffy and warm, and for a second, she was glad simply to take in a breath of fresh air. “Yuck!” Except it was anything but fresh. The same too-sweet smell she’d noticed while traveling through the forest with Pietas and Hayes was stronger here, like a candy factory gone bad.

Holding her breath, she cracked open the shutter a bit more and peered out. Nothing stirred, not even near the forest’s edge. The compound looked abandoned. “
All clear on the western front!”
Her dad always said that right after knocking on the door of a public rest room.
Why did I have to think about him?

McKenzie closed the shutter and moved back to the chest. Soliis said he had once sensed the cortext inside. “Once,” meaning, before he’d become addicted to cobaca froot. Now she closed her eyes to see if she could sense it too. But with her heart pounding nervously and her mind alert for sounds of Wells and the Tsendi’s return, she decided it would be quickest to simply look.

The chest was primitive, no lock or springs. Even the hinges were wooden. Why would someone like H.G. Wells, who once made a living writing science fiction, choose to live with Tsendi over Circanthians? The Circanthians were obviously more advanced. Was he afraid of particle-weaving? McKenzie frowned. In the past, people had been afraid of witches.

Will people be afraid of me?

Brushing the thought aside, she opened the chest. On the very top was a notebook. McKenzie had seen similar notebooks, dozens of times, in dozens of stores on Earth. It had to be Hayes’ notebook. She picked it up, ready to stuff it into his backpack, then paused. It wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek.

She smiled, recognizing many of the faces. Hayes had a knack not just for capturing features, but personalities, too. Quickly, she flipped through the pages curious to see how Hayes had drawn his girlfriend, Joanne. So she was surprised, and more than just a little embarrassed, when she found herself staring at a picture not of Joanne, but of herself.
He made me look pretty.

McKenzie shut the notebook and stuffed it in Hayes’ backpack. She didn’t need a mirror to know she was blushing.

The rest of the chest was stuffed to the brim with feathers and rocks, pieces of cocombaca wood carved into animal shapes, and all sorts of useless and crudely made trinkets. It was like digging through a child’s treasure chest. She examined a carving of an animal resembling a spiky hedgehog with long floppy ears, then tossed it onto the bed along with the rest of the contents.

There were a couple of large eggs, one blood-red, the other speckled blue with bright orange splotches; several pieces of black pottery; a number of animal skins and… “Ahhh,” she murmured, “coraltea!”

She examined the cup, more orange than copper, but definitely made from some sort of metal. A pattern of intricately engraved flowers and leaves encircled the rim. It was beautiful and so well made it was hard to believe the creatures who’d created the pottery and carvings could have had anything to do with it.

Unfortunately, none of the treasures remotely resembled the item Pietas had described as the cortext. McKenzie looked at the pile, unconsciously tracing the outlines of the patchwork quilt they were spread upon. Gingerly, she found herself lifting a corner of the bedspread, holding it up just long enough to confirm what she must have already feared: it was made of poonchi skins. Dozens of their little hides sewn together to make Wells’ bedspread. The soft white fluff on the other side confirmed it. She dropped the corner and backed away. This wasn’t helping.

Once again, McKenzie closed her eyes and tried to empty her thoughts. If Soliis had sensed the cortext, so could she. Squeezing her eyes tight, she prayed,
Help me, Mom
.
Help Dad. Help Hayes
… and a rush of warmth washed over her. McKenzie took a deep breath, wiped away a tear and…the pounding, pulsing sound she’d heard in Principal Provost’s office, a vibration so faint she hadn’t noticed it before, pierced her senses.

 Grabbing the side of the chest, she leaned over and reached in. Leaning farther, straining against her belt, McKenzie pushed against the bottom board. It was loose!

Quickly, she scanned the room, looking for something to pry up the false bottom. Just a few more minutes, McKenzie thought. And that’s when the whooping and hollering erupted, as if someone had thrown a switch just waiting for her to think about it.

Chiding herself for not noticing in what order she’d taken them out in, McKenzie tossed everything back into the chest, closed the lid—
time to greet old, Uncle Wells face to face
—and rolled out of the room.

Chapter 38

FBI TRANSCRIPT 21211

Agent Wink Krumm and Miracle Madison
Wednesday, June 3rd

KRUMM
: How are we feeling today?

MIR
: I don’t know about you, sonny, but I’m feeling old, fat, and gaseous.

KRUMM
: Your granddaughter, McKenzie, she has—

MIR
: Not an ounce of fat on her.

KRUMM
: Yes, well, she has something that belongs to me.

MIR
: She’s a good girl. Plays piano, you know. I’m hoping she’ll play for our anniversary.

KRUMM
: Your anniversary?

MIR
: Philip and I are having a party to celebrate our one-year anniversary.

KRUMM
: Philip is your…

MIR
: My husband, silly.

KRUMM
: But your husband is...
never mind
. I suppose you don’t know anything about a diary.

MIR
: My diary?

KRUMM
: The diary of Julianne Wells. I have reason to believe your granddaughter may have it.

MIR
: My granddaughter? Why, I’m not even married. Oh dear!

KRUMM
: What now…

MIR
: Philip and I are eloping today and I have nothing to wear.

KRUMM
: Right. Never mind, never mind…oh dear.

***

WHEN WOMEN KNEW THEIR PLACE

Wednesday, March 18th
Tsendi Outpost

M
cKenzie inhaled sharply and sent up a quick “thanks” to the great beyond. A few inches more and she would have rolled into two Tsendi guards. Positioned on the porch above everyone else, she could see the backs of what looked like a hundred or more Tsendi, H.G. Wells and—
Holy Cow Pies—
over the bouncing, bobbing mob, at the edge of the forest, Hayes!

Only one Tsendi faced in her direction, the only Tsendi she knew by name, Abacis. With his attention focused on Wells, he hadn’t noticed her. Hayes knelt in front of him, body slumped forward, arms bound behind his back—tied to the hideous Tsendi like a beast on a leash. McKenzie considered her options. The goal was to grab Hayes and particle-weave the heck out of there. But not only was Hayes surrounded by Tsendi, he was tied to Abacis. She would have to break that link or Abacis would follow them through the portal.

Snaps!
Abacis had seen her. His expression must have alerted Wells for he turned, and like one mound of hideous fake fur, the rest of the Tsendi followed. The bumbling guards in front of her were the last to realize something was amiss. And, by the look on their faces, they were too afraid of McKenzie to be of much use.

“You’re late,” said Wells, striding through the rapidly parting crowd like Moses crossing the Red Sea.

McKenzie glanced at Abacis. While everyone else focused on her, he was talking to someone in the forest.

“Untie him,” she said. “We had a bargain and I’m
not
late. I’ve been waiting in your room for the last hour.” Wells’ eyes widened and McKenzie felt a jolt of triumph.

“SO!” He said, “You’ve come to rescue the boy.”

“Untie him,” McKenzie repeated. Hayes was looking up now. Funny, she thought, he doesn’t look afraid; in fact, it looks as if he’s trying to tell me something. “We uh…uh…”

Wells started to turn his head.

“We had a deal,” she shouted. “Untie him. NOW!”

“All in good time, my dear.” Wells eyed her curiously. “First, however, I believe you owe me something.”

With all her scheming to get into Wells’ private chamber and find the cortext, McKenzie had neglected to plan for this. Once again, proving she was unfit to bear the responsibility of a savior.
What now?
Hayes would have known what to do.

McKenzie stared at her great-great-great Uncle, needing to see something—anything that would make her feel better about being related to him, but saw only a pompous old weezbag who enjoyed wielding power over the pathetic Tsendi. She shook her head and looked across the crowd to Hayes; either she had to find someway to convince Wells to untie him or risk dragging Abacis along through the portal.

Portal!
McKenzie had an idea.

“Of course,” she said, speaking to the weezbag, “you want my Gate. I’ll show you how it works.” McKenzie patted her wheelchair. “They’ve improved the design you know.”

Wells laughed. “My dear, I invented The Gate!”

McKenzie frantically searched her memory for one of the longer, more confusing technological words her father often used. “Then you know how to program a quantum crystalline nano-processor?”

“A qua…?” Wells’ mouth hung open.

McKenzie held her breath and tried not to grin.

“Alright,” he muttered, running a hand through his thick, wavy hair. “It might be of some small interest to see what they’ve done with my invention.” He motioned two Tsendi guards to follow him and began walking up the steps.

McKenzie opened her armrest and whipped out her iPort. “Not-so-fast!” she said, flipping it open, punching the laser pointer and brandishing it in the air.

The guards on the porch dropped their spears, jumped over the side of the porch and disappeared into the forest. Wells stopped in mid-stride, and his guards backed up.

“Now, now my dear…”

“I’m NOT your dear!” McKenzie focused her laser pointer on Wells. “I’m McKenzie Wu, and if you want my Gate, I suggest you untie my friend—NOW!”

Wells shielded his eyes. He seemed to be having trouble breathing. “Such-such-such insolence!” he shouted.

McKenzie closed her eyes, took three deep breaths and—

“In my day, women knew their place!”

Disappeared!

Chapter 39

FBI TRANSCRIPT 21206

Agent Wink Krumm and Professor R.
(*The identity of the individual being interrogated remains in question, whether it is Prof. R., Petré Revolvos, Joe Roony. Or, if they are all, in fact, one in the same.)
Thursday, June 4th

PROF. R.*
: You promise Joe donuts.

KRUMM
: Joe…
not
Petré?

PROF. R.*
: Petré? Oh, yes, yes. Joe my nickname.

KRUMM
: So you are, in fact, the elusive Professor R.: inventor, private investor, and owner of several high profile companies both in the U.S. and abroad?

PROF. R.*
: I am Professor R.

KRUMM
: And your assistant, Joe Roony, of whom we can find no record, has…
disappeared
. After sixty years of faithful service?

PROF. R.*
: Yup.

KRUMM
: And yet, according to James Wu, Joe Roony is the owner of Sphaera Technologies. I was certain he looked much…
different
than you.

PROF. R.*
: I like Joe Roony so much I use his name.

KRUMM
: I see…or rather I don’t. But let’s move on. It has come to our attention that you transferred the ownership of all your American companies to James Wu. According to our records, Mr. Wu is not related to you. What’s more, he has been in your employment for less than a year.

PROF. R.*
: He very good friend of my assistant.

KRUMM
: The same assistant who is nowhere to be found?

PROF. R.*
: Yup! Now, how ‘bout dem donuts. Running big companies is hard work.

KRUMM
: Right.

PROF. R.*
: Sounds like you could use a few too, hey Krumm.

KRUMM
: On the contrary…I seem to have lost my appetite.

***

LOST IN SPACE

Monday, March 16th through Thursday, March 19th
Somewhere in the universe

“
B
ewfordios!”

“Quiet, Professor. I’m concentrating.”

“Wh-Wh-WHERE’S my body? What’s going on? WHAT was that—that golden thing? WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING?”

“Pull yourself together, James.”

“Together? TOGETHER! How the heck am I supposed to pull myself together when I’m scattered all over the universe?”

“Listen up James, we’re on our way to Circanthos. Bewfordios seems to have gotten us—”

“WHO IS SPEAKING?”

“It’s me, James, Professor Revolvos. Now please don’t—”

“Professor R.? Yes, I guess I knew that. I mean, WOW, I can read your mind!”