Witch and Wizard - James Patterson [49]
“It’s okay,” Whit told them. “We’re your friends. You have to trust us, okay? We’re kids.”
Then Whit held me up close to his face. “Are you sure about this?” he whispered. “This isn’t a game, Wisty.”
“Whit, there’s no turning back now. Mom and Dad, and all those kids who could be turned into smoke and ash, are inside. Get these new kids in the van and get them out of here. Pick up Margo and Emmet. Tell them to stay close by. If I can disarm the alarm or the gate, they’ll have to shuttle the escaping kids through the tunnels really fast.”
Whit frowned, and it was so weird—even the creases in his skin looked huge. Even his one zit. “If you see chunks of cheese or peanut butter, like, lying in the middle of a small wooden board, with wire all around it—”
“I got it,” I said. “Drag those sleeping guys into the gatehouse.”
Whit let out a breath, looking extremely unhappy with me. “We’ll all be standing by. I’ll be watching for you, Wisteria.” Which, he knew, was what Dad always called me in times of great stress.
“Okay,” I said. I stared down at the ground, which looked about ten stories away. I closed my eyes and jumped, quite pleasantly surprised when I landed neatly on all fours, ready to run. “See, I didn’t go splat!” I called to Whit.
“You be careful!” he called back.
“‘Careful’ is my middle name!” I looked ahead at the very large, gray prison building. Right away I saw a drain-pipe and headed over to it. Before I actually entered the pipe, I glanced back at my brother, trying not to think this might be the last time I’d ever see him.
“See ya,” I called in a voice he couldn’t possibly hear.
Then I peered up into the darkness of the rusty pipe. I could smell damp air, old leaves, and other nasty things I couldn’t identify. I’d heard mice were excellent climbers.
I guess I was about to find out.
Chapter 80
Whit
I SHUDDERED AND CRINGED as I watched Wisty’s tiny tail corkscrew, then disappear, up that drainpipe. No magic could wipe away the grotesque image of her being crushed under a New Order prison guard’s jackboot.
But my job now was to save the kids who’d just been brought in the van, and then I could get to my parents. The quicker, the better.
“We’re not staying here?” one of them asked timidly as I backed the vehicle out of the gates. “Isn’t that against the New Order rules?”
“No to your first question, yep to the second,” I said, making sure there was no oncoming traffic. “Change of plans. It’s all good.”
I popped the truck into drive and swung out into the street fast, racing to the alley we’d passed on our way in. I rolled down my window and waved.
Margo, Emmet, and the others emerged from the shadows.
“Where’s Wisty?” Margo asked.
“Up a drainpipe. Where else?” I said. “We have to ditch this van.”
“No! We can use it later,” said Emmet, sitting beside me in the front seat. Margo crammed herself in too. “Go up three blocks and take a right at the light.”
Margo reassured the kids as we drove. “You aren’t criminals. We’re taking you to live with us. It isn’t fancy, but it’s better than prison.”
“We’re not going to jail?” one girl asked, wiping her tear-streaked cheeks with both hands.
“No,” said Margo, “we’re going to Garfunkel’s.”
Seeing their little faces relax was incredible, I must admit. I knew they’d have lots of questions, but at least they had hope. They had us.
“This next part gets a little tricky,” Emmet said nervously. “But it’ll get us back to Garfunkel’s without being seen on the main streets.”
“Oh no, not that,” Margo yelped, looking alarmed—okay, make that frightened. “It’s a death trap!”
“It’s the only way!” Emmet said.
“Uh, can we go back to the death-trap part?” I asked.
“Right here!” Emmet shouted suddenly, grabbing the wheel. “Sharp left!”
“There’s nothing there!” I shouted back as the van hopped the curb.
“Hang on, everybody!” Margo commanded. “This could get a little rough!”
I whipped my head from side to side, checking for innocent pedestrians I should avoid mowing down.
“There!” Emmet