“Subject?” Denise repeated. “Guess he don’t have insurance.”
Clementine couldn’t make any sense of the medical gobbledygook. She focused instead on the words she could understand.
“Why they put all the coma patients in the same ward?” Denise wondered.
“Maybe they all got the same thing,” Clementine muttered. “Alkaloids…”
“What?”
Clementine waved the chart at her. “Alkaloids.”
“Like the mint?” Denise asked.
“Those are Altoids,” Clementine said. “Alkaloids are in chocolate…”
That got Denise’s attention. “Chocolate?”
The adjacent patient was a college-age girl who appeared to be in otherwise good health. Clementine grabbed her chart and skimmed it. “Alkaloids.”
“Maybe other kinds of foods got alkaloids in ‘em,” Denise said.
Clementine rifled through the girl’s clothes.
“What are ya doing now?” Denise asked.
“Just cover me.”
Denise cracked the door to keep an eye out for trouble. “Just…Hurry up.”
“Nothing,” Clementine said, and moved on to the next bed.
“Hurry…We’ll be in big trouble if they catch us rolling patients,” Denise whispered.
“Wait…Got something!”
Denise closed the door and took the crumpled wrapper from Clementine’s hand. “These are the same kinda bars we’re selling at school. Wait…They’re allergic to chocolate?”
“Don’t know,” Clementine said. She picked another patient and produced another wrapper.
“They sell these same kinda bars at a lotta schools,” Denise said. “Maybe there was a recall that we didn’t hear about.”
“We woulda heard about a batch of poison chocolate,” Clementine said.
“Maybe this is some kinda serial killer,” Denise said. “Maybe he’s poisoning the chocolate.”
“If he is, then he ain’t any good at his job,” Clementine said. “They’re comatose, not dead.”
“Organs,” Denise said.
“What?”
“Bet they’re harvesting organs,” Denise said. “Bet that’s what they’re doing.”
“Wait,” Clementine muttered, “ya hear that?”
“Hear what?” Denise asked.
“Listen,” Clementine said.
Denise held her breath and listened. “The EKG’s are playin’ to the same rhythm.”
“Weird,” Clementine said. Weirder still were the curious machines bolted to the individual units.
Denise moved in for a closer look. “Turntables?”
They weren’t the same kind of turntables she’d seen club DJ’s embarrass themselves with. Vinyl slugs sat inside a recessed cavity, mounted vertically, not horizontally. The stylus carved channel after channel into the ungrooved vinyl, the spindle arm spiraling further out with each rotation.
“They’re not playin’ records…they’re like recording ‘em,” Clementine said.
“Just ‘cause they look like turntables don’t mean they are,” Denise countered. “Might be some kinda scientific equipment or something.”
Clementine whipped out her phone and started snapping pics.
“What are ya doing?” Denise asked.
“Working,” Clementine said.
Denise cracked the door open and resumed her watch. “Hurry.”
Clementine got what she needed and joined her at the door. “Let’s get outta here before the Blueberry comes back with the correct change.”
***
Parents crowded the train station platform the next morning to bid long, drawn out goodbyes to their kids. The trip to D.C. would be the first time most of them would be away from home, so a little teary nostalgia could be forgiven.
“This is gonna be so much fun,” Hannah said.
“So much fun,” Kelly agreed.
Clementine dropped her bag. “Oh yeah…Totally.”
Neither Hannah nor Kelly had a sister, but they looked alike, which made them want to dress alike. This explained why the stereo blondes wore nearly identical peacoats to the station, but didn’t explain why Denise and Tamara arrived dressed almost the same way.
Clementine looked down at her ski jacket, suddenly self-conscious about her utilitarian choice.
“Love your hair!” Hannah said.
Denise twirled her jet-black braids between her fingers. “My mom did ‘em last night…for the trip.”
“Who ya texting?” Hannah asked.
The corners of Tamara’s mouth rose, emphasizing her prominent cheek bones. “Brian and Blake and ‘em. They scored some EZ8.”
She finished her text and noticed Hannah trying to hide her apprehension. “You never tripped on EZ8?”
Hannah’s dimpled cheeks flushed. “What’s it like?”
“Like floating in an ocean, except there’s no ocean,” Tamara said.
“Then what?” Hannah asked.
Tamara pulled her dense black curls into a ponytail. “Memories. Just trippin’ on memories.”
Hannah’s brows arched in response. “Memories?”
“Like everything you ever did, or ever might do, all happening all at once,” Tamara said. “Kinda hard to explain.”
Kelly’s pale blue eyes flickered with excitement. “This party is gonna be fantabulous!”
Tamara smoothed another layer of balm over her full lips before smacking them together. “Oh, totally fantabulous!”
They checked their bags, giving Denise a chance to pull Clementine aside. “Hey, Nancy Drew…You alright?”
“Just excited ‘bout the trip,” Clementine said. “Heard it’s gonna be fantabulous!”
Denise knew better. “This ain’t about the hospital, is it?”
Clementine paused to collect her thoughts before answering. “How come they didn’t have Mr. Peck registered?”
“Paperwork,” Denise said, “my mom works in a dentist’s office and…”
“I know,” Clementine said, “they’re always losing patient files.”
“Always,” Denise said.
“But what about all those other patients all lying there? And all of ‘em with alkaloids? Just seems…”
“Weird?” Denise said. “It is. But that don’t mean there some kinda evil plot going on. Somebody just messed up at the factory. The lawyers will sue ‘em outta business and that’ll be that.”
“Yeah, guess you’re right,” Clementine said, but her easy capitulation wasn’t convincing.
“Maybe you like it,” Denise said.
“Like what?”
They were both at Bixby when Harley, Donovan, and Ramone disappeared, and rumors of Clementine’s involvement lingered still, even if Denise knew better. “Maybe you like the weird.”
“No, I like the normal,” Clementine said. “And I been practicing.”
“Practicing what?”
“Being normal,” Clementine said.
Denise tried not to smile. “Show me.”
Clementine cleared her throat and wiped the expression from her face. She stood motionless for a few seconds before Denise finally cracked up.
Mr. Dawson took another head count beyond their enclave. “Are we missing someone?” he asked, but kids and parents alike ignored him, which wasn’t easy. The sable hat was a practical choice in the dead of winter, but the leather trench coat remained inexplicable.
He counted again and this time came up with one extra. “Debbie, will ya at least pretend you’re sober and help me out here?”
Ms. Coburn dismissed him with an elegant wave of her hand. The red leather gloves matched the red wool coat which matched her red felt hat, like some kind of post-menopausal Little Red Riding Hood. That’s what he’d thought, though not what he’d said when he got to the station.
“Miss Coburn…”
“Miss Coburn!”
She rolled her eyes, not even bothering to face him. “Jus
t count the damn slips. If all the slips are there, the kids are there.”
Mr. Dawson’s jaw tightened. “Alright kids, if one of you winds up with your face on a milk carton, don’t blame me.”
“Milk carton?” Kelly asked. “What is he talking about?”
“Who knows,” Tamara said. “Where’s Clem?”
“Yeah, where is Clem?” Hannah echoed.
Denise scanned the immediate vicinity but didn’t see her. “She was just here a minute ago.”
***
Newton picked through the candy while trying to keep his eyes from the skin mags on the newsstand’s top shelf.
“Hey Harry Potter,” the greasy clerk grunted, “Libraries are for lookin’ newsstands are for buying.”
Grady laughed. “Harry Potter…”
Newton caught his reflection in the newsstand’s glass case and sighed. He finished the transaction and dragged his bag to the kiosk where Spider waited.
“When do we make our move?” Grady asked.
Newton caught Clementine creeping up behind Spider from the corner of his eye but didn’t let on. “Wait ‘til the conductor sounds the last boarding call.”
She jammed her knee into the back of Spider’s, folding him in half. “Nice mittens.”
Spider recovered and buried his hands in his bulky parka’s pockets. “Already lost two pairs of gloves this winter and my mom wouldn’t let me leave the house no other way.”
“Heard from Drew yet?” she asked, but she could tell by their expressions they hadn’t.
Newton buttoned his duffle coat’s last button. “How’s Mr. Peck?”
“Dropped the card off last night,” she said.
Newton waited for more details but didn’t get any. “And?”
“He’s in a coma,” she said.
“That all?” Spider said.
“That’s all,” she said.
Her reluctance to volunteer anything made Newton curious, but he didn’t say anything.
“What are you doing here anyway?” Spider asked.
“I just came to see what kind of trouble you’re gonna get yourselves in.”
“Dude, we ain’t gonna get in any trouble, ‘cause we gotta plan to find Drew,” Grady boasted.
She plucked an errant feather out of his down vest and blew it away. “A plan?”
“Lazy-Eye Susan helped us figure it out,” Grady said.
“And that worked so good last time,” she said. “So what’s your big plan?”
Grady waved a scrap of paper in her face. “Dude, I got my mom to fill out the permission slip, but I didn’t turn it in. Told the teacher I wasn’t allowed to go.”
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s what we all did,” Spider said. “Teachers will think we’re here, folks will think we’re down there.”
Newton flashed his debit card. “And we got cash for food and guns and missiles and stuff.”
“Missiles?” Clementine said, “ya think you’re gonna find a missile at the pawn shop or something?”
“You know what I mean,” Newton said, “And ‘cause we packed for the trip, we don’t have to go back home for no clothes.”
“So, do ya see ‘em?” she asked.
Grady looked around before answering. “See who?”
“The Odd Botkins,” she said.
“No,” Grady said, “but that don’t mean they ain’t there.”
Newton raised his collar and threw his scarf over his shoulder—again, a nervous tic she’d almost forgotten. “We just gotta remember what Miss Susan told us.”
Spider nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. What’d she say again?”
“Don’t stare at ‘em,” Newton said. “Don’t make eye contact. That’s how the Hypno-Specs work.”
The boarding whistle blew, signaling the train’s imminent departure.
“Guess this is it,” Newton said.
“Guess so,” Clementine said. “Good luck.”
“Yeah,” he said, “Have fun in D.C.”
She watched them filter through the meandering crowd toward the access tunnel, wondering how they’d get by without her. “Take a good look at ‘em, cause they’re probably gonna die.”
She grabbed her bag and caught up with the Janes, who still hadn’t boarded.
“Where’d you disappear to?” Kelly asked.
“Just had to…buy some gum,” Clementine said.
A bottleneck formed at the car’s entrance, resulting in more pushing and shoving than decorum allowed.
“Excuse you,” Denise huffed.
The tall stranger bumped into her but didn’t stop. He kept going, brushing past her like she was invisible.
Denise pouted. “Some people!”
The stranger was no stranger, and Clementine recognized him from the encounter at the bus stop. “Clark Bent…”
“What did ya say?” Tamara asked.
He was tougher to spot on the crowded platform where he blended in just like any other businessman. But he shouldn’t have been there at all.
“They shot him in the chest,” Clementine muttered. But the Botkins looked alike and mistaking one for another wasn’t too far-fetched. She studied him a little longer trying to decide, but there was no mistaking the distinctive stop-motion gait.
She waited for him to recognize her, but he didn’t. “Maybe he didn’t see Newton and ‘em, either.”
Clementine moved with the traffic, shuffling forward while looking back over her shoulder.
“Who ya looking for?” Hannah asked.
“Nobody,” Clementine said. She stepped into the car and watched the Botkin head for the access tunnel.
The door closed, sealing her in…and then opened back up. “Let me out!” Clementine demanded, and pushed her way out of the car.
Denise flattened her face against the car window. “Where ya goin’ now?”
But Clementine was already gone.
CHAPTER 6
They entered the tunnel through the steel ‘DO NOT ENTER’ door and made their way along the track.
“Dude, ya sure this is the right way?” Grady asked.
“The tunnel leads out to the loading bay and the loading bay leads back to Front Street,” Newton explained. “The fewer parents we see the less chance we got of getting ratted out to our folks.”
Emergency lights ran the length of the tunnel, cast-iron fixtures set into recessed cavities every few feet. The lights glowed red when the track was in use, and the track was in use, which made them nervous.
“Tunnel ain’t as wide as I thought it’d be,” Spider said.
“It’s wide enough,” Newton said.
“Yeah, yeah. Wide enough for the train, but not wide enough for us and the train.”
Grady jumped backward, slamming into Spider. “What the what?”
Newton flashed his penlight at the intruder crossing their path. “That’s one big rat.”
The greasy rodent lifted its head in acknowledgement before resuming its routine and leaving the same way it’d come.
Grady laughed. “Bro, either that or Mr. Dawson’s hat jumped off his head and ran away.”
The tunnel curved ahead and they could already see light streaming in through the mouth. They picked up the pace entering the straightaway until Newton skipped to a stop. “Wait…Who’s that?”
The light was to his back so they couldn’t discern any features.
“Be cool,” Newton said.
Grady was anything but. “Dude, we should skate.”
The stranger jumped down to track level and lumbered toward them. Each heavy step crunching the gravel beneath brought him closer and closer until it was too late for them to run.
“Be cool,” Newton repeated.
They recognized the trackwalker’s gray uniform even with his flashlight shining in their faces, though the odd juxtaposition of six-o’clock shadow and the kind of gentle perm not seen outside of 80’s music videos unsettled them at first.
“What are you kids doing her
e?”
“We was just looking for our dog,” Newton said.
“You tripped the sensors,” the trackwalker explained, though with a high voice for a man his size. He opened a channel on his walkie-talkie. “Yeah…this is one-six…Just some kids messing ‘round.”
They listened to him explain the situation to his supervisor before closing the channel. “10-4…Alright you kids, you go on and get outta here.”
“We’re goin’,” Spider said, and started for the tunnel mouth.
The trackwalker stuck his thick arm out like a toll gate. “Not that way, that way.”
“Goin’ out this end is quicker,” Newton said.
They’d reached the limits of the trackwalker’s patience. “You already tripped the sensors comin’ in, if ya go out through the tunnel, you’re just making more work for me.”
Newton didn’t want him calling for back-up, so he started toward the access door.
Grady fell in behind him, contemplating their next move. “Dude, if the Botkins are in the station, they’ll be waiting for us on the other side of that door.”
Spider kicked at the gravel in front of him. “An octopus wouldn’t have this kinda problem.”
Newton tried, but couldn’t ignore his random proclamation. “What?”
“Was watching Discovery channel after we was talking ‘bout monkeys the other day,” Spider said.
“And?” Grady said.
“Couldn’t find nothing on monkeys but caught a show ‘bout octopuses,” Spider said. “Know what an octopus does when it’s in trouble? Just straight up shoots ink at anybody messing with it. Squirts ink and floats away.”
“What’s Portuguese for lizard?” Grady asked.
Spider had to think before answering. “Lagarto.”
“Think I’d go full-on lagarto,” Grady said.
“Lizard?” Newton said, “Like Godzilla or something?”
“No, Godzilla’s unfeasibly large,” Grady said. “And he can’t throw a party without cats like Rodan or Gamera crashing it.”
“Can’t have that,” Newton said. “Then how?”
“I’d be cool about it,” Grady said, “let my tail maybe break off if somebody ever gotta hold of me.”
“What good is that?” Spider asked.
“Dude, I’d just run back to my lair and grow another one,” Grady said. “Come back with my tail all erect and blow everybody’s mind.”
“Regeneration,” Newton said.
“Yeah, regeneration,” Grady repeated. “What about you?”
Newton took a few steps before answering. “I’d breathe fire.”
“Ya mean like a dragon?” Spider asked. “Didn’t know we was counting make-believe animals.”
“Didn’t know we wasn’t,” Newton said. “But yeah, definitely dragon breath. Just open my mouth, and wham! Down they go!”