When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [118]
Meanwhile, we’re out here in the woods. We’re far, far from the civilized world. I suppose it’s like a witness protection program, only it’s much better for the witnesses, much better for us, anyway.
The kids love it, and so do Kit and I. The fresh air, the sprawling blue skies, our favorite swimming hole, the natural beauty of the land, the freedom to be ourselves without any scrutiny. You can’t beat it.
But then somebody found us, of course.
Chapter 127
IT WAS A BRIGHT, sunny, hopeful Saturday afternoon when we arrived at the army base in North Carolina where the surviving “experimental” children were being kept.
The base was located on over 40,000 acres of woods, which were perfect for army training exercises, as well as for hiding the children away from the press and others.
We got there at 1200 hours, and were due at the general’s quarters by 1400. Everyone at the military post was extremely nice, the MPs, the general’s adjutant—a lieutenant colonel named James Dwyer—the soldiers themselves.
The children were allowed to go to the affair in casual clothes, which they loved. I wore a beige cowl-neck sweater and blue jeans, while Kit had on khaki pants and a blue blazer. We were incredibly nervous and jumpy as the momentous hour approached, and so were the kids. This would be the biggest day in their lives.
At 1400, we pulled up in front of a large, plantation-style house on a tree-lined road. Up and down the neat, pretty street were magnolias and pines, as well as several large brick houses. The general’s house was the most impressive, the handsomest, the obvious choice for the upcoming event.
“We’re in the army now,” Matthew sing-sung a little ditty as we climbed out of the military base’s khaki-green van.
General Hefferon and his wife came out to meet us in the driveway. The Hefferons had warm, friendly smiles, but several of the MPs were holding M-16 rifles and that brought back bad memories.
“Flying is probably forbidden here,” Max turned and said to me. “I don’t feel so good about this place anymore. It’s creeping me out.”
“Give it a chance,” I whispered to her. “This is a good idea, Max.”
“People are already gawking,” she said.
“That’s because you’re so beautiful.”
Just then, the front door of the house opened wide. Several men and women walked out onto the porch single-file. They stood there looking stiff and uncomfortable, nervous and afraid. I couldn’t help thinking that they mirrored our own body language.
“Let’s go up to the house, children,” the general’s wife suggested.
Each of the children was given a name tag and pinned it on. I helped Peter, who was being a little pill, and Kit assisted Icarus, who seemed the most nervous of all the kids.
“Let’s go up to the porch,” I said. “Be good now.”
The children started to walk across the manicured front lawn. They were quiet and subdued. They had never met their birth parents before.
As we got closer, I could see that the men and women assembled on the porch wore name tags, too. They stood in distinct pairs inside the larger group. They fidgeted and didn’t know what to do with their hands. They were trying not to stare at the children.
“Here’s your mom and dad,” I whispered to Peter and Wendy, who were trailing close behind me. I almost started to cry, but I held the tears back somehow. I felt as if something were about to break inside of me.
“This is Peter, and this is Wendy,” I said.
“We’re Joe and Anne,” the parents introduced themselves. The woman’s lips were quivering. Then they broke down. Joe was a large, generous-looking man and he bent low and put out his arms, and choked on his own tears.
Wendy surprised me, and ran right to her dad. Then Peter did the same, flinging himself into his mother’s arms. “Mommy,” he cried.
Just about the same thing was happening with the other children and their birth mothers and fathers. The kids had been wary and even cynical as we traveled to the army base, but all that was behind them. The army,