24. Seeking Security

SEEKING SECURITY

MADDY

As the paramedics take Grandfather Aims out on a stretcher, and Andrew goes with them, I simply sit crossed-legged on the floor. I think my legs have gone to jelly. Dimly, I hear voices around me.

"This is horrible," I say. "I gave up my scholarship, and ran all the way out here to California. I thought if we lived quietly, Paul and I would be safe. Instead, we've led the old monster here so he can hurt everyone."

"Shush, shush," Kate says, sitting beside me, and wrapping an arm around me. "It is not your fault."

"Isn't it?" I ask, twisting toward her. "I should have packed up Paul and run the minute I recognized Andrew. Instead, I worked with him, half hoping he would remember me, and half terrified that he would. I think I should have been more terrified than I was."

Kandis folded down into a fashion model kneeling pose beside Rylie. "No, you didn't," she says. "We all made the mistake of not taking Aims more seriously. We wrote him off as a sick old man who no longer had any power. We forgot that even an aging viper still has plenty of venom."

While I am trying to catch my breath, someone escorts all the armed men out of the room. Andrew, Leland, and Austin enter from the same door the band had used. They are accompanied by three large dogs, and several security guards.

Andrew comes straight to me, kneeling in front of me. "How are you, Maddy?" he asks, concern clear in his voice. He looks sad and tired, as if he is the older brother, not Leland.

"Tired," I reply. "Scared. Will he live?"

He wraps one long-fingered hand around the back of my neck in a gentle caress, and rests his forehead against mine. "For a while," he says. "Hopefully, long enough for me to dismantle the worst of his extensive criminal domain and convert what remains into legitimate businesses."

"Is that safe for you?" I ask. "Doesn't it put you in danger of criminal charges?"

"I'll help," Richard says, pulling up a chair. "I've got experience with cleaning up the shady side of a business. And I've a good stable of lawyers."

"I have political connections," Charles adds, bringing another chair and settling in beside Richard.

"As do I," an older gentleman says, standing beside the two younger men. "I feel a certain responsibility for all of this, since it was started through my desire to have a good marriage for my daughter. Matchmaking is a tradition in Ildogis." This must be Tulok, I realize.

"Would you like to go home?" Andrew asks me. "There will be much to be done, but I think it will go better after some sleep."

Austin broke in. "For tonight, I'd like to take everyone up to the Bunker."

"Are you sure?" Charles Emory asks.

"Yes," Austin says firmly. "As it is right now, my guys are spread thin, trying to cover the clinic, the orchards, the pack-up of the fair grounds, and five different family homes."

"But . . . the wine tasting," Mimi Quinn says. "It's a tradition."

"One that I think we had best skip this year," Pops Quinn says. "I'll make an announcement. Meanwhile, I like the idea of getting everyone into one extra secure spot. I've had an itch between my shoulder blades all week."

"Moving again," I murmur.

Austin says, "No, I hope not. Think of this as a giant sleepover. We can pack up the wine, I think most of the tasters are family, and we can have a giant party." He grins like a Cheshire Cat. "It will be fun!"

In just a few minutes, we are packed into big, comfortable buses, and headed up the hill to Freedom Mountain. The children and the people caring for them have joined the company. By mutual consent, Andrew and I share a seat with Paul wedged in between us. Neither of us want to let him out of our sight.

We sit quietly for a few minutes while the bus rumbles along. Then Paul breaks the silence. "Is this like a bus for soldiers to ride on?" he asks.

Andrew and I exchange a glance over his head. "No," Andrew replies. "More like a tour bus. Although I believe Charles and Austin have a fleet of them, and they do use them for moving workers about."

"Will you have buses like these?" Paul asks. "Cause you are inheriting your Grandpa's business, right? That's what Aunt Rylie said when she came to get us."

"I'm really not sure," Andrew says. "You know how you start a new class in school, and you aren't quite sure how it will go?"

Paul nods.

Andrew looks over at me again. "It's kind of like that. I know I will have things to do, and learn, and probably a lot of changes to make. But right now, I'm not even completely sure where the school is."

Paul giggles. It's a tiny little, nervous giggle, but it lets me know that he will be alright. "I know how that is. I've had three different schools because we move around a lot."

I look over at Maddy, and she is suddenly extremely interested in a broken piece of upholstery on the back of the seat ahead of us. "I should have come back when Dad asked me to," Andrew says.

"Judging by today, I'm not sure it would have been better," I say. "Mostly the moves were upgrades, as I got promotions and better salaries. But I felt better if we moved every now and then. It seemed safer."

Andrew stretched his arm along the back of the bench seat, just above Paul's head. His hand is open, inviting but not demanding. "Maddy . .." he says.

"You didn't know," I say, reaching across my body to place my right hand in his. "You don't need to keep apologizing. We need to go forward. What happens now?"

He gently tightens his fingers around mine, as if my hand might be a lifeline. "I find where the bodies are buried, and how many doors the threads of Grandfather's machinations run under. I won't tell you that it will be easy or safe, but I will do the best I can for you."

Paul looks up at me big-eyed and serious. "Bodies?" he asks.

"Figure of speech," I tell my son, before addressing Andrew, "Although I thought your father was dead, because that's what his grandfather told me."

Andrew smiles thinly."Probably what Grandfather meant was that I was dead to him because I didn't stay and help run his petty kingdom. Although my people did set about the rumor that our whole team was dead at one point – we were safer that way."

Paul looked up at us, first at me, then at his father. "You look pretty alive to me," he says. "Unless maybe you are a zombie. Could he be a zombie?" he asks, teasingly, but perhaps a trifle serious.

"No," I say. "Zombies are a made-up scary thing, just like BigFoot, or jackalopes."

Andrew laughs. "There was a guy in northern California that made unicorns."

"You are kidding," I say.

"Nope," he says. "He took baby goats, treated their horn buds so they moved together in the center of their heads, and twisted their soft baby horns together."

"Yuck!" Paul says emphatically.

"You said it," Andrew agreed. "And this was from a dude that claimed to love nature. He was a decent musician, but not an especially nice person."

"Did you meet him?" I ask.

Andrew shakes his head no. "Just read about him. One of those weird factoids I picked up in my teens."

The bus pulled into a large parking lot, well-lit by giant LED flood lights. Solar panels and windmills seemed to blossom beside the lights.

A large, glass fronted building rose out of the earth like a small hill. Security personnel buzzed about. Austin climbed the steps into the front of the bus. "Come on everyone," he said. "I've called ahead, and the staff are getting rooms ready. Each family unit will have a suite, and there is a buffet being set up in the main lounge. You can eat there, or take food to your room."

"What do you want to do?" Andrew asks, standing up, and creating a blockade in the aisle so Paul and I could get out.

Suddenly, I feel very tired. "Rooms and bed, I think," I say, "Unless there is some reason for us to mingle."

Andrew looks toward Austin. "None that I know of," Austin replies to the look. "You've got to be tired."

I nod.

Andrew places his hand on my shoulder, and gives it a squeeze. "How about you, Paul. Are you tired?" he asks.

My son yawns. "I could sleep," he said. "Do you think there is pizza? We don't have pizza often."

"Probably," Austin says. "I'm not sure what got thawed out. It's kind of short notice."

He backs down the steps, and everyone follows. We are surrounded by uniformed security. Austin isn't taking any chances.

Inside, the Bunker turns out to look like a posh hotel. The rugs are thick and deep, conversation seating arrangements are scattered around. A grand escalator scrolled its way to upper floors, while elevators stood at one side for the timid.

A wide door leads to a dining area where tables covered with white linen are set up. All the family members and friends troop into that area. Attendants are handing out boxes for anyone who just wants to pick out their food and go to their rooms, while finding seats for those who want to socialize.

We opt for boxes. None of us want more excitement. I let Andrew and Paul make the food selections. I take charge of drinks, making sure that there is milk and juice for my son.

Our rooms are magnificent. More of the deep pile carpets, two large bedrooms and a huge bath. In one corner is a wet bar furnished with nearly any type of drink you could possibly imagine, plus a cabinet stocked with non-perishable snacks. Next to it is a table covered with a snowy, linen cloth.

Angel and Carousel wait for us. I am glad to see them. I am suddenly ashamed that I had not even thought about the animals.

We put the food on the table, and Paul immediately begins to chow down on a huge slice of pizza. "Can I have soda, Mom?" he asks. "Please?"

I shake my head. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't get any. But they had kiwi-strawberry juice."

My son looks a little disappointed. "Pizza and root beer go good together," he says. But he accepts the juice with reasonably good grace. I don't ask where or when he had root beer and pizza. I feel as if the whole world is sliding out of my grasp.

I sit down at the table, not eating, trying to get a grip on my emotions.

I hear Paul and Andrew say something to each other, then Paul puts an arm around me. "Love you, Mom," he says. "We'll take care of you."

He sounds so grown up, it nearly breaks me. This is my baby, but he is well on his way toward becoming a man. I hug him back. "Love you, too, punkin. Sleep tight."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite," he says back to me. And just like that, he's my boy again, with years of growing yet to do.

"May I tuck him in?" Andrew asks.

Paul laughs. "I don't need tucked in. Night, Mom. Night, Andrew."

Then, it was just the two of us alone in the room.