Raising Dragons (19 page)
Billy smiled down at Bonnie, and after a warm, steamy sip, she smiled in return. People in the crowd shouted out dozens of questions, and a couple of microphones pushed toward Billy’s face, but he didn’t want to answer right away; he was shaking too hard. For right now, he just wanted to stay with Bonnie and make sure she was all right.
He looked around at the throng of people. “So, where’s my dad?” His voice quivered with his body, and his mouth stung from the fire-breathing episode, so he tried to keep his talking to a minimum.
Several of the search team members stared at one another, and some shrugged their shoulders. Billy tilted his head, confused at the blank responses he was getting. “Bonnie said she heard on the radio that he was down here.”
A patrolman stepped forward. “I can explain.” He put a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, son. We received a faxed photo that proved Agent Devin is really Dr. Whittier, so we made up that story to lure him down from the mountain.”
“Agent Devin? What are you talking about?” The horrible realization crashed onto Billy like an avalanche. “You mean he’s not here? My dad hasn’t been found yet?”
“No, son. But we’re still looking for him. We found your mother. She’s up there with the main search team. She’s fine.”
Billy drooped his head. He felt a cramp in his throat, and he swallowed hard and let out a long relieved sigh. “Thank God for that.” He tried to compose himself and looked up again. “Can I go up there, too?”
The patrolman smiled. “Could we keep you down?”
Billy smiled back, feeling a surge of energy. “No way!” But he paused and turned toward Bonnie. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Can you keep them from examining you?”
She nodded. “I’ll tell them it’s just my knee. That hurts more than anything.”
Walter piped up. “Go on, Billy. I’ll keep an eye on Bonnie.”
Billy beamed at his faithful buddy. “Thanks, Walter. I’m sure glad you came.” The two embraced, patting each other with manly slaps on the back. “Watch out for Dr. Whittier. He’s really out to get us.”
Walter laughed. “Not any more, he’s not.”
“What do you mean?”
Walter posed as though he were ready to swing a baseball bat. “Remember how we used to have a contest to see how big a branch we could bust on a tree?”
“Yeah. I remember.”
“I used Whittier’s head for the tree.” He swung his pretend bat as hard as he could. “Pow!” he yelled, dropping his “bat” and laughing again. “I think I won our contest.”
“Wow! When did you do that? You didn’t kill him, did you?”
Walter shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know if he’s dead or not. I didn’t stick around to find out. Could be, I guess. I really let him have it.”
The patrolman reached for his handcuffs. “You assaulted an FBI agent?”
Walter lowered his chin beneath his coat collar and backed away. “But I saw him . . . uh . . . chasing someone with a sword. I thought he was after Billy, so I had to stop him.”
The officer’s grim face burst into a smile. “Just kidding, son. Can you lead us to where you dropped him?”
Walter let out a loud sigh. “I could find him, but I’m not leaving Bonnie’s side.”
A new voice entered the circle. “So there you are, Mr. Foley! Where have you been?”
Walter grinned and made a half swing with a new “bat.” “I guess you could say that I’ve been out taking batting practice, Mr. Hamilton.” Walter’s eyes brightened when he saw another new face appear behind his teacher. “Dad! When did you get here? Have you heard all the news?”
“I got here a while ago, and the professor filled me in on everything. We were searching in the yellow zone and heard all the buzz on the radio and hurried back.”
Mr. Hamilton surveyed the scene. “Mr. Bannister! Miss Silver! Welcome back!”
Billy swallowed a big gulp of cocoa and wiped his mouth. “Thanks, Mr. Hamilton.” He nodded at Walter’s father. “Hi, Mr. Foley!”
“Good to see you, Billy,” he replied. “You and Bonnie have had quite a night! How did you stay warm?”
Billy glanced at Bonnie, smiled, and turned back to Mr. Foley. “We stayed on the move until pretty late, and then we found a sheltered spot to rest and gathered together a bunch of leaves.”
Walter tugged on the teacher’s coat sleeve. “Mr. Hamilton. Can you and Dad stay with Bonnie while I show the police where Devin is?”
“Yes! Of course! I overheard the part about the branch.” He punched the air with his fist. “Great going, old chap!”
Billy laid his hand on Bonnie’s shoulder. “You won’t leave Bonnie’s side while I’m gone?”
“Not even for a second!” Mr. Hamilton knelt down next to Bonnie and took her hand, clasping it tenderly. “I am yours, fair maiden, your knight in shining armor! My squire and I will protect you from every foul fiend.”
Bonnie gulped hard to keep from laughing, and a radiant smile crossed her face. The patrolman laughed and raised the radio to his lips. “Sky One. This is Caruthers. Come in!”
“Sky One. Go ahead, Caruthers.”
“Meet me at the base field. I have Billy Bannister. Repeat. I have Billy Bannister.”
Caruthers turned back to Billy and put an arm around his shoulder. His voice cracked with emotion. “Let’s go see your mom!”
Billy kicked a pile of snow, scattering it in every direction. He had kicked through a ton of snow already, and he had no idea what he was searching for any longer. The dogs hadn’t been able to find any new trails, he and his mom had picked through the wreckage three or four times, and he had already stacked all the Bibles he could find and covered them with a tarp. He still held a pocket Bible in his hand. He didn’t know why he was carrying it other than it just made him feel better.
He stared gloomily at the twisted metal that was once Merlin. Now he understood the reason for the airplane’s name. Over a thousand years ago the real Merlin had taken away Clefspeare’s ability to fly, but his passion to soar through the heavens and look down over his domain never disappeared. This trusty plane had given the skies back to him, at least in a way.
He looked over at his mother and mentally traced each worry line on her face. He missed her usual shining glow, the smile that burst forth every time her husband walked into the room. Billy caught a glimpse of the old radiance just a little while ago when he and his mom were reunited. Her smile was real, but not quite whole. She needed Dad.
Billy, of course, was exhausted, but he dared not mention it. At least he was warm. On the way to the helicopter a kindly older lady had given him a fresh set of clothes and a heavy coat. They were all a little too big, but they felt heavenly, especially the shoes, a dry pair of mid-top hiking boots that fit pretty well with thick wool socks underneath. After getting his bundle of clothes he saw the lady wheel a wagon toward Bonnie. He guessed she was in for the same treat. Since he still had a blanket draped around him at the time, he changed on the spot, anxious to get out of his freezing, wet clothes.
Up to this point, Billy had bottled up his emotions. He felt them trying to smash through; heart-breaking sadness, self-pity, and anger, especially anger. He thought if he allowed even one tear, everything would burst out at once. It would mean he had given up. It would mean he believed his dad was really gone. After all, if Dad was still alive there was no reason to cry; everyone else was safe, and Walter had probably stopped the slayer for good.
He looked once again at the streaks of blood the investigators had exposed and pictured what might have happened. He imagined where arms or legs might have smeared this line or that line on the cabin floor and out into the leaves. He saw his father’s limp frame stretched out, pale and cold along the horrible path. He cringed, and his whole body shivered at the thought.
Dragged off by some slobbering old bear? He shook his head to sling the image away, but it bounced right back. He pictured a massive, drooling beast crouching in a cave and crunching on his father’s bones. Suddenly a wave of nausea swept over him, and he bent over to heave out all the hot cocoa he had drunk earlier.
His mother limped to his side and patted him on the back while wiping his face with a tissue. “Let’s get you back to the camp,” she said softly.
Billy looked up at her caring face through his tear-filled eyes. “Mom, if Dad’s really still alive, he has to be around here somewhere. I can’t give up. I want to go out with the new dogs when they get here.”
“He’s already here,” his mother replied.
“He? Only one dog?”
A gruff voice with a heavy Appalachian accent made Billy turn his head. “Iffin ol’ Hambone caint find him, ain’t no dog in the world that kin.”
A thin-faced man slouched next to the plane. Through the man’s open coat, Billy saw a flannel shirt, much of the shirt’s tail sticking out of his two-sizes-too-big overalls. In his long, skinny fingers he held a wide leather strap, and on the other end sat an elderly hound. The dog, a bluetick, Billy thought, seemed sleepy but not disagreeable.
The man tipped his greasy baseball cap. “Arlo Hatfield’s the name. Ol’ Hambone don’t like to go out in the cold, but it don’t take ’im long to find a soul.”
Billy stood up and wiped his eyes and nose with his gloves. He stepped cautiously over to the hound, took off a glove, and put out his hand. The dog sniffed it from thumb to pinky. The thin man laughed with a bellow. “Haw! Now iffin you was ever to git lost, ol’ Hambone’d find you! That’s fer shur!”
Billy pulled off his other glove and stooped, petting the dog’s head lovingly with both hands. Hambone’s face perked up. His tongue dangled, dripping through his puffy panting, and his tail jerked back and forth like a high-speed metronome.
Billy leaned over and whispered in the dog’s ear. “Hambone, you’ll find my dad, won’t you?” He looked up at his mother, pouring on as much pitiable sadness as he could muster. “Can I go with him, Mom?”
“Billy, you were throwing up just a minute ago, and you were running soaking wet through the mountains most of the night!”
“I know, but maybe I can help.”
The mountain man spat out a stream of brown juice. “Nope! Hambone and me, we works alone. You’d just be a distraction. We been huntin’ Otter Crick fer years, so we don’t need no help.”
“You heard him, honey. I think we should both go back to the camp and get some rest. We’re just walking in circles here. This man and his dog know the area, and they don’t want us getting in the way.”
A loud voice rang out in the distance. “All ashore that’s going ashore!” The helicopter’s pilot was calling from a clearing. He had just delivered the mountain man and his dog and was ready to go back to base.
Billy’s mother took a step toward the voice, partially turning her body to leave, but she kept her eyes trained on Billy. He gave a reluctant nod and grunted as he rose to his feet, petting Hambone one more time before walking away. “We’re coming!” he called back.
Billy put on his gloves and picked up the Bible again, but finding it soiled from his spell of nausea, he tossed it back into the pile of debris. The two made their way toward the makeshift chopper pad, and Billy kept moving his eyes and head in all directions, trying to get some clue, some sign that might help him find his father.
At the same time, nagging doubts thrust their way into his mind. How could he be alive? He was shot through the heart, the plane crashed, and there’s all that blood. Who could survive that? He had to keep prying his mother for the truth.
“Mom, do you
really
still believe Dad’s alive?”
She paused, and every second Billy had to wait for an answer buried him in more doubts. Finally she said, “I have to believe in him, Billy. He said he wouldn’t die, and he’s never lied to me before.”
“But why should
I
believe in him?” he asked, nearly shouting now. “Up until a couple of days ago, my whole life’s been a lie!”
“A lie? What do you mean?”
“Never mind.” He felt childish after that outburst, especially when Bonnie suddenly came to mind. He knew his own troubles were nothing compared to hers. Still, doubts remained. Even if his father walked right down that mountainside, Billy wondered if he had it in his heart to forgive him. Yet, he knew he still loved his dad. How could he just forget all those years of good times?
A spirit of betrayal stalked his mind. No real father would keep a secret like that, would he? Billy saw a small piece of Merlin’s fuselage and kicked it, making it slide across the snow. He felt like his heart was being torn in two.
As they walked, a shadow passed over them, and Billy jerked his head up to look. A huge vulture circled low, his V-shaped wingspan casting a black stripe on the treetops. Did the bird know something the rescuers didn’t know, or did it just smell blood? The thought of gluttonous scavengers made Billy shudder again, and he folded in his coat and kept his eyes on the ground the rest of the way to the helicopter.
Chapter 15
As soon as Billy stepped out of the pickup truck that ferried them back from the helicopter pad, he scanned the rescue staging area to find Bonnie. He picked up his pace and strode up to her, trying to mask his inner turmoil.
“No good news, huh?” Bonnie asked, speaking softly to keep their conversation private.
“You could tell?” he whispered in return.
Bonnie just nodded, her own face telling a sad story. Although she had managed to sit erect on a lawn chair, her right leg, wrapped ankle to thigh in Ace bandages, was propped on an ice chest, a huge lump bulging over her knee.
The rest of the faces in the huddled group reflected Billy’s gloom—Walter, his father, Mr. Hamilton, and Officer Caruthers all frowning in varying degrees.
Billy’s mother caught up and joined the group. Her shoulders sagged, and dried tear tracks smudged both cheeks. She looked like she could use a three-day nap.
Mr. Hamilton gave them a weary saluting gesture. “Hello, William, Mrs. Bannister. From your expressions, I take it you bear ill tidings?”
William?
Billy thought.
Why is it William all of a sudden?
“Well, no good news. We haven’t found my dad yet.” He looked around at the glum faces again. “What’s everyone so upset down here for? At least everyone else is safe, and we’re all together.”
Walter spoke up. “Devin’s gone.”
“Gone? I thought you said you really decked him!”
“I did. We found the place, and there was lots of blood where I bashed him, and then a trail of blood with footprints. But all of a sudden, the trail ended.”
Billy had tried to keep up a good humor, but the whole world seemed to turn gray and cold. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath. “Let’s just hope old Hambone finds my dad.”
“Old who?” Walter asked.
Billy waved him off. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
Officer Caruthers slapped his thigh and laughed. “Old Hambone is the best hound in the state. It took us a while to convince that hillbil—uh, his handler—to bring him up, especially since it’s so cold. I’m sure they’ll find your father. Old Hambone’s never failed, and the colder it is, the faster he finds his man. He hates the cold.”
Billy stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and bounced lightly up and down on his toes. “Brrr! Then we oughtta hear from them real soon.”
As evening fell, and more frigid air descended, the volunteers dispersed, giving way to professional search crews and their fresh teams of dogs. Billy wanted to stay and find out if Hambone had found anything and why other dogs were coming in, but the searchers persuaded him and his mother to go home and rest. They had to allow the bloodhounds to search that night, and perhaps the next day, without interference. They reluctantly obliged, their weariness overtaking their will to go on.
A rescue volunteer offered to drive them back to Castlewood in his recreational vehicle, promising a ride of comfort with beds and blankets. Billy, his mother, and Bonnie took him up on his offer. Mr. Foley told them to go straight to his house. Mrs. Foley would have hot food and steaming drinks waiting for them, along with a place to sleep for as long as they wanted.
Walter stayed with his father and Mr. Hamilton. He offered to help them clean up the rescue staging site to get his mind off the tragedy. With hopes of finding Jared Bannister fading, the number of volunteers dwindled, leaving only a few to do the dirty work.
After a couple of hours of cleanup duty, Mr. Hamilton asked Walter’s father to accompany him on his walk toward his station wagon. He had parked well down the road due to the large number of cars that had packed the narrow throughway. Walter stuffed the last of the food wrappers and used coffee filters into a garbage can and then followed his father and the professor, wrapping his arms around his coat to battle the freezing temperature. The crisp, cold air made it easy to hear their conversation, even from a dozen or so paces behind.
“Professor,” Walter’s father began, “thank you for all your help and your interest in Walter and Billy.”
The professor walked quickly, forcing Walter and his father to step up their pace. “That’s quite all right, Carl. They’re fine young men.”
“Yes, I know.” Walter’s dad puffed as he pumped his long legs. “I was wondering, though, how much do they really know about you? Do they realize that you’re—”
“No!” The professor slowed down as they descended the last slope, which led to a wider section of road where he had parked. Walter lagged farther behind, wondering if they knew he was listening. He leaned over and tied his shoe but kept his ears trained on the conversation.
The professor stopped and faced Walter’s father. The teacher’s voice lowered, but Walter could still make out the words. “When we visit that issue we tread dangerous ground. It would not help matters if they knew about the Circle, or about my role in it.”
“Matters? What matters are you talking about?”
The professor’s eyes gave away deep concern and more than a little love. “That’s what I wish to discuss. With this mad Sir Devin still about, William and Miss Silver will not be able to attend school safely any longer.”
“Yes. I was wondering about that. Go on.”
“And William’s mother will have neither the time to teach nor the money to hire a tutor. Surely Miss Silver’s foster home is no better equipped.”
“I agree. Exactly what are you trying to say, Professor?”
The professor took a deep breath and exhaled in a cloudy white stream. “Carl, do you remember me mentioning something called ‘The New Table’ back during your Oxford days?”
“It rings a bell. Wasn’t that the weird group that thought they were Arthur’s knights or something?”
The professor sighed. “More than a weird group, I’m afraid. They’re a secret society, powerful and cultic, and they believe they’re the rightful authority in England, the true Round Table of Arthur, or some such nonsense.”
“Okay. But what do they have to do with Billy and Bonnie?”
“I can only tell you that the society seeks to kill them both. Their conspiracy has branches all over the world now, so protecting the children will require my personal attention.”
“Your attention? What are you talking about?”
“I have a proposal to make to you, but if you agree, you must continue to keep what you know about me and my mission a secret. You may, of course, relate to anyone my official capacity at Oxford. There is no need, however, to arouse fears in William and Bonnie, or in Walter for that matter, by reporting my unofficial business. I will reveal what I know over time.”
Walter’s father nodded. “Go on. I’m listening.”
The professor glanced back at Walter and lowered his voice further. Walter could see their conversation in the spurts of white leaving their mouths, but the sound died away. He knew they were leaving him out on purpose, so he walked back toward the camp to find his dad’s car. With every step he wondered about “The New Table” and Arthur’s knights. What could it all mean?
The night grew suddenly darker and colder, and Walter hurried his pace. When he reached his dad’s car he threw open the door and jumped inside. He bundled his coat together and shivered hard.
Billy sat with Walter at the kitchen’s breakfast table. Mrs. Foley had set a fabulous morning meal before them—pancakes with butter and warm syrup, a big slab of ham, steaming hot hash browns covered with a fried egg, a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and a fat blueberry muffin, split from the top with melted butter dripping down the sides. Billy just stared at it, poking at the egg with his fork. He popped the yolk and stirred it into the potatoes.
Walter munched on a huge mouthful of potatoes and swallowed, chasing it with a gulp of juice. “Just because Hambone couldn’t find your dad, it doesn’t mean he’s dead. It just means the old dog ain’t what he used to be. At least he didn’t find a body.”
Billy took one bite of egg and chewed it halfheartedly. “We know something’s up there. Hambone wouldn’t have gone crazy barking at a cave if nothing was around it. We heard that Arlo tripped and broke his foot. Maybe they would’ve found something if he hadn’t gotten hurt.”
Billy dropped his fork on the plate and rested his cheek in his propped up hand, gazing around the large eat-in kitchen and out into the family room of Walter’s house. “I’m glad you have such a big place.”
Walter pointed at Billy’s breakfast. “You gonna eat that?”
Billy shoved his plate toward Walter, who grinned at the sight of another whole meal coming his way. “Ever since my sister moved out,” Walter said while chewing, “we’ve had her room open, and we have the guest room, too. We’ve got lots of space.”
“Yeah, it’s a nice house and all, and it’s a great place to sleep, but I can’t believe Mom’s making us just sit here when we should be up at that cave searching.”
Billy’s mother walked gingerly up to the table. She looked refreshed and clean and smelled like she had just come out of the shower, but her limp proved that her ankle still bothered her. “You know why, young man.”
“I know. I know. Bloodhounds work better when other people aren’t there stinking up the place. But what if Dad’s on his way home? What if he’s hitchhiking back? He won’t even know where to go!”
“Billy,” his mother warned, “now you’re getting irrational.”
Billy sat up straight in his chair, wide-eyed, and he sputtered his words. “Irrational? Has anything
rational
happened the last few days? People setting our house on fire, a school principal with a sword chasing us through the mountains, bodies vanishing at the end of bloody trails, dogs that can’t track anymore, and now we can’t even go to school, because . . .” He wiggled his fingers creepily and imitated a deep radio announcer’s voice, “Who knows where the mad Sir Devin lurks?”
Billy looked into his mother’s sad eyes and felt bad about his outburst. He clasped her hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m really out of it today.” The entire kitchen area fell silent for a moment, and an overall gloom took control.
Walter leaned back and put his hand on his stomach. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, Mom and Dad decided it was okay for me to homeschool with you.”
“Yeah? That’s pretty cool.” Billy looked over at his mother. “So have you decided if you’re going to be our teacher?”
She lowered her head and shook it slowly. “I don’t see how I can. Since we don’t know when your dad’s coming back, I have to run the business by myself. Until the insurance company pays for the house, we’re going to need the money, and the other pilots are counting on me.”
“Well, if you can’t stay home, then who’s going to teach us?”
She looked at her watch and then at the front door. “I hope you’ll find out very soon.”
Billy followed his mother’s eyes to the door, and he sighed. “You went out and hired a tutor?” He covered his face with his hands and moaned. “Oh, no! Some spinster lady who can’t keep a regular job! What else did you do to me yesterday when I wasn’t looking?”
She ignored Billy’s grousing. “Well, I had a long talk with Walter’s folks, and then Walter’s mom and I went shopping with Bonnie while you were napping. Since all our clothes burned in the fire, I had to get at least a few things. You can wear Walter’s clothes, but his mother and I aren’t the same size.”
Billy felt a sudden burst of energy, but he kept his voice under control. “You went with Bonnie? How is she doing?”
“Fine. She was feeling a lot better yesterday, except for the knee, of course. The store had a wheelchair for her, and my ankle wasn’t bothering me much, so we got around just fine.”
“What did the doctor say? If I know Bonnie, she wouldn’t let anyone examine her.”
“Well, she let the ER physician look at her knee. He said there might be some permanent damage, but since she doesn’t want to get an MRI, we’ll just wait to see if it starts healing on its own. For now, she’s crutching around.”
“Who’s watching her? I mean, if Devin knows where she lives, won’t he try to come after her? Since she’s crippled, she won’t be able to . . . you know . . . get away.”
“Don’t worry. The house is under twenty-four-hour surveillance. The police are hoping he does come by so they can grab him.”
Billy looked toward the front window. The drapes had been drawn closed, so he couldn’t see outside. “Why aren’t they watching this house?”
“A police cruiser comes by now and then, but since the Foleys have a fancy security system, they can monitor us remotely. Mr. Foley decided to allow the security company to keep the audio lines open during the day, and when he arms the system at night, they can only listen if the alarm goes off. I’ll show you how to disarm it later so you can go out the door if you’re the first one up in the morning.”
“You mean the security company can listen in right now if they wanted to?”
“Right. So don’t—”
BRAAAAP! Walter’s belch echoed throughout the room, and he put his hand back on his satisfied stomach. “Aaaah! That’ll give SOS Security something to think about!”
Billy was about to bop Walter on the head, but a loud rap at the door grabbed his attention. His mother looked at her watch again. “Yep. The old spinster’s right on time.”
Walter wiped his mouth and stood up. “Come in!”
The door opened and a tall, wild-haired man strode in carrying a large briefcase, his ever-familiar accent sounding out strong and lively. “Good morning, pupils! Are you ready to explore the wonderful world of learning?”
Billy laughed. “Mr. Hamilton! You’re going to teach us?” He passed a plate to Walter, who was stacking dirty dishes on the table.
Mr. Hamilton stepped back and raised his head high. “And what’s wrong with that, young man?”
Billy waved his hand apologetically. “Oh, nothing—nothing at all. But what about your classes at Castlewood?”
Mr. Hamilton pulled off his coat and draped it over his arm. “I resigned, effective immediately.”
Billy glanced at his mom. “But what about your income? I’m sure we can’t pay you what you were making.”
Mr. Hamilton walked slowly into the kitchen and set his briefcase down by Billy’s chair. “My wife passed away years ago, my house is paid for, and my only child is married to a prominent nuclear physicist. I require very little.”