When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [55]
Luckily, Kit was stronger than most men, and he was that one man in a hundred who seemed to know his own strength. He subdued the girl without hurting her. She was strong, but I wondered if she was also light—for flying. I wondered if she had hollow bones?
I jumped right in there and hit her with the needle. The drug dropped her like a lead weight. Her piercing shrieks were still bouncing off the mountainsides, hanging in the air, but they were getting weaker.
And then she was out.
I didn’t know she’d bitten Kit until I saw him squatting with his right hand tucked under his left armpit. That wasn’t good; it could be very bad, in fact. I grabbed his hand and looked at the bite mark. She’d left a perfect impression of uppers and lowers—but she hadn’t broken the skin, thank goodness. Had she held back from hurting him? If so, why?
“You don’t look so good,” I told him.
“I’m okay, Frannie. Take care of her.”
I took a deep breath and began to work. We got most of the net off the little girl, and I took her pulse. It was a normal sixty-four beats a minute. She was sleeping soundly, but for how long?
I moved long, wet strands of hair off her face. There were dark blue circles under her eyes and her lips were dry and cracked. Again, I was visited with an eerie feeling that this child had been physically abused. It turned my stomach.
“How long will she be out?” Kit asked.
“I’m not sure, but if she metabolizes at the same rate, say, as a large dog, she’ll be out for a couple of hours. Oh hell, who knows?”
He nodded and the two of us continued to watch the girl in silence. We couldn’t help ourselves. I wondered what Kit was thinking about, what he knew. He was lost in thought, or maybe awe. I put my hand on his shoulder.
“Let’s get her down off the mountain,” I said.
I was having a powerful Sunday-school fantasy: perhaps this little angel was a messenger from God. But if she was, what was the message? And who was it for?
Chapter 55
HARDING THOMAS was furious, absolutely enraged. He kicked hard at the mound of ashes heaped in the campfire. A gray cloud of soot rose from the ground.
The fire was cold, and there was no telling how long ago it had burned out, or who had been there.
Except that he’d found a long white feather nearby on the ground. She had been right here, and not long ago.
He turned to Matthew, his bait, only that plan didn’t seem to be working out so far. “She’s losing her precious feathers.”
“Like hell,” Matthew sneered, but there was fear in his eyes. He knew. “She’s smarter than you, times a hundred.”
“Maybe so, but we’ll find her soon. She’s not far from here.”
Thomas put the white feather in his cap band and removed a cell phone from its leather pouch on his hip. He didn’t want to make this call, but it had to be done. It was his duty. He tapped out a few numbers and was connected.
The reception was as clear as the mountain air. He weighed and measured each word as he spoke to the person on the other end.
“She’s still out here, not in plain sight, but we’re very close. Unfortunately, she might be getting help. Someone may have found her in the woods, or maybe she found them. No, I don’t know that for certain, and I don’t know who the hell it is. Maybe campers, or backpackers. We’ll soon find out. Unlucky sons of bitches, whoever they are.”
Chapter 56
THE DOSE OF KETAMINE had worn off and the girl was literally bouncing off the walls. My cabin was too far from anything for anyone to hear her violent pounding and loud thumping, but I could hear her. Kit could hear her. We weren’t concerned about the noise. We were afraid she would hurt herself.
I sat beside the door to the spare room. I talked to her through the door, soothingly, I hoped.
Of course, I had no idea what to say, where to start, or even how to communicate with her. But I knew, I thought, this would probably be the most important conversation