SIX
Viola’s Christian Home for Children
2066. December 31st.
It was getting late. Shawn and Viola Dybek were outside under the lamp-light, romping on the play-set and around the yard with their children one last time before bed. The children weren’t born to the couple and they wouldn’t be theirs once they were adopted, but for now, while they were at the Home, they were theirs.
It had been about six months since the two had married. Viola Chassidy, the woman he had saved as Shadowstar, the woman he had been lucky enough to meet again after going back to God’s Love Church, had lovingly accepted his proposal after a full year of dating. After the proposal came several months of wedding planning along with planning to start their ministry.
Viola’s Christian Home for Children had opened less than a month ago. It had been Viola’s dream since entering the social work field, and Shawn felt as if he was doing something useful again since laying down the pastoral robe and then the ninja suit.
The Home was completely supported by donations, many of the donors being members of God’s Love Church, and Shawn had purchased the property for the Home himself out of his ‘savings,’ otherwise known as The Drug-Money-He-Had-Confiscated-From-Criminals-While-Beating-the-Crap-Out-of-Them Fund.
But Viola had no idea where he got the money, nor would she. From what he told her, it was inheritance money from his parents.
They had five children in the Home now, ranging from five months to eleven years and they couldn’t wait for God to bring them more.
Halfway through another round of tag, Viola stopped, listening to the timer going off inside the house. Lydia, a five-year-old blonde ball of energy, saw Viola’s hesitation and took advantage of it, running, full force into her.
“Got you!” she giggled.
“Aww, man!” Viola joked. “Okay, go get the other kids!” Lydia sped off toward Liz, an eleven-year-old, and Viola called out to Shawn. “Going to get the cookies!”
“‘Kay!” Shawn acknowledged.
As Viola entered the house through the back sliding-glass door and stepped into the kitchen, she noticed a naked toddler boy walking across the tiled kitchen floor toward the living room. Staring after him for a moment, she confirmed that, indeed, she did not know who this boy could possibly belong to. She quickly turned around toward the back door.
“Shawn!” she called. Shawn, along with the children, immediately stopped their game and turned to face her. They could all hear the excitement in her voice and knew that she had something important to show them.
As a group, they all walked into the kitchen and stopped when they saw the new boy coming toward them from the living room.
“Aw, look, he’s…Chinese!” said Liz.
“Asian of some sort,” Viola confirmed. Stooping down and reaching her hand out toward the boy, she said, “Hi, little fella! Come here. Can you come talk to me?”
Then, with a small squeak, the boy’s eyes suddenly got wide with excitement as he came running into Viola’s arms.
Around the block, Bobby Fraley pulled a piece of paper out of his file folder and placed a check mark next to Number Ten’s picture.
Viola, carrying the new toddler upstairs, told him, “We’ve got to find you some clothes. Well, better get a bath first.”
Shawn, following right behind, said, “I’ll call LandForce. We need to make sure he wasn’t kidnapped or something.”
In the bathroom, Viola set the boy down, and he immediately started reaching back up to be held by her again. Viola bent down and gave him a hug, but then turned to the tub. She keyed in the temperature she wanted, and the water began to flow.
Turning to the toddler, Viola saw that he was staring at the outpouring water and slowly backing out of the bathroom. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “It’s all right.” She reached her hand into the water and pulled it back it out to prove her statement. “See? It’s only a bath. It’s nothing to worry about.”
But Number Ten had his back pressed against the bathroom door and refused to come any closer. He instinctively trusted Viola, but he did not trust the flowing water behind her. It reminded him too much of the River in the LifeSpace and what had happened to two of his companions.
Behind him, the bathroom door started to move, pushing him toward the water! Terrified, he hurried to move away from the door’s influence.
Coming into the room and seeing the boy running across the floor to the sink, Shawn asked, “Everything all right?”
“He doesn’t want to get in the bath,” Viola explained as she went to comfort the boy from his scare.
“A lot of kids don’t like to take baths,” Shawn said. “Just put him in there.”
“Shawn, we have no idea what he’s been through,” Viola argued. “Maybe he was abused or something. Maybe his parents put him in hot water or held him underwater or…maybe he almost drowned once; I don’t know.”
“Or maybe he just doesn’t like to take baths.”
“Fine. Maybe. But I’m not going to do anything to upset him until he gets to know us a little better. I can just sponge him down for today.”
“Okay,” Shawn agreed. “I called LandForce, and they want me to send them a picture.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and held it up to his eye. “Smile, little man. Time to get your mug shot.” Shawn took the picture and sent it as Viola brought a wet washrag over.
After the boy’s scrub down, Viola wrapped him a soft, clean towel and carried him downstairs. The rest of the children were enjoying their evening snack of cookies and milk around the dinner table.
Viola set the new toddler down in one of the free chairs and Shawn slid a plate with a large cookie on it over to him. “Wayne,” Viola said to a four-year-old boy, “do you think our new friend here can borrow some of your clothes for tonight?” Wayne had warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie crammed in his mouth and spread half-way across his face He nodded vigorously while reaching for another cookie, happy to help. “Thank you, Wayne.”
“Uhh-ayhh!” Number Ten exclaimed when he tasted the cookie. Everyone laughed, and Shawn said, “I guess that means he likes it.”
“I guess so,” Viola agreed and left to dig through Wayne’s dresser.
When Viola returned with an outfit for the boy, she saw everyone bending down and looking under the table. All of the younger kids were laughing, but she couldn’t see Liz, Shawn, or the new boy. “What’s going on?”
“He. Is. Peeing! Under the table!” five-year-old Lydia declared before erupting into laughter again.
“What?” Viola asked, but then she saw Shawn, Liz, and the oriental boy crawling out.
“I told him not to, but I don’t think he understood,” Shawn said. “I think maybe he’s deaf.”
“Where’s he going now?” Liz wondered as Number Ten wandered back into the kitchen.
“He’s looking for more cookies!” Wayne yelled, and all of the kids began laughing again.
Viola and Shawn followed Number Ten into the kitchen. “Do you think he could be deaf?” Viola asked.
“I don’t know,” Shawn answered. “He seems to look at you when you talk to him, but he never says anything back. He just makes those little noises.”
Viola nodded. “Or maybe he’s a slow learner. Maybe no one ever worked with him to teach him. He could have been severely neglected up to this point.”
Half an hour later, all of the Home’s kids were in bed, and the house was quiet. Viola was tucking their new arrival into his new bed, next to the crib in the nursery, and thinking about how much more energy she was going to need to take care of him. She bent down and hugged him. “Good night,” she said and kissed him on the forehead. Then, she walked out the door.
She turned around one last ime, but instead of seeing the boy in his bed, he was right behind her. She picked him up, carried him back to the bed, and turned to leave again. Again, he got right back up and followed her. She took him by the hand, pointed at the bed, and being careful to speak loudly and distinctly, explained, “It’s time to go to sleep now. Night-night.” She pressed her hands together and set them against the side of her head, closing her eyes. “This is your bed. You sleep here, okay?”
But no matter what Viola did, Number Ten would not stay in bed by himself. In the LifeSpace, all the kids had slept together, cuddled up around each other in a big pile, and there was no way he was going to be able to sleep in a bed all alone. In the end, Viola had to take him to her bed, and he slept happily, nestled between her and Shawn all night.
2067. January 25th.
A month later. Bobby Fraley watched as Viola drove off. A little while later, Shawn did the same. The Home was empty now except for Miss Ayla Woods, the Dybek’s day help, and whatever children were too young to go to school. Number Ten, or Ling – that was the name Viola had given him – would be among them. Bobby had been busy over the last couple of weeks. Ever since he had learned what Sammy Auger, he had been going back down his list and re-collecting all of the children he had placed for the Doc. Ling was the last one.
Bobby knew that the Home had keycards and cameras and a fenced-in playground, but all of that was normal and shouldn’t be a problem for him. All he had to do was get Miss Woods to open the door, knock her out so she couldn’t call the Force, grab Ling, and get out. Easy-peasy.
He pulled his skin-mask down over his face and got out of the van. A few seconds later, he was at the door, ringing the bell. He turned around so Miss Woods would only be able to see the back of his head through the peep-hole and heard the door unlocking. So far, so good, he thought. Now for the action.
“Can I…?” Miss Woods began, but the next instant, Bobby pulled his gun out from the back of his pants, spun around, and smashed it into her face. The young caretaker crumpled and hit the floor. That takes care of the nanny.
He stepped over her, closed the door, and headed to the living room. There was a baby lying on a blanket in the middle of the floor with Number Ten staring down at her. “Just stay calm,” Bobby ordered, walking toward the three-year-old toddler. “No reason to get excited.”
Ling regarded the man with mild curiosity and did not resist when Bobby picked him up and slung him over his shoulder.
The masked man turned back around and saw that Miss Woods was up and moving toward the front door, blood running down her face from the cut he had given her under her eye. Where had she been? He had left her lying at the door not a minute before. “Stay there!” he barked, pointing his gun at her.
But Miss Woods didn’t stop. She walked straight to the door and stood in front of it.
What does she think she’s doing? Does she think she can block me? He walked up to within a few feet of her, leveled the gun at her chest, and said, “Open it.”
“No,” Miss Woods said, shaking her head slightly.
“Get out of the way!” he yelled, trying to push her aside. Miss Woods fell sideways but didn’t go all the way down. Still, Bobby could reach over to grab the doorknob. He pulled on it, but it didn’t budge. It wouldn’t even turn.
Miss Woods stood back up and said, “I already hit the alarm!”
She’s bluffing! When would she have had time? Maybe when I turned to pick up the boy?
But, no, she wasn’t lying because there were the Force sirens. Gotta get out! But she hit the alarm, so the building’s on lock-down. Only one way out and it’s gonna hurt.
He pushed Ling into the teacher’s arms – the kid would only slow him down now – and ran for the large bay window he had seen in the living room. With no time to think of anything else, he turned and launched himself at the window, back first, hoping he wouldn’t get cut or stabbed too badly.
Something hit him hard on the back of the head, probably the window frame, but the glass broke, and he landed with a thud on the grass outside. Besides his head, nothing hurt too badly. He got up and started running.
A few minutes later, Deputy Jim Slate was talking to the caretaker. “Miss Woods –“
“Ayla,” she muttered. She was sitting on one of the child-size tables, holding a gauze-covered ice-pack over her cut and shaking from adrenaline.
“Ayla,” Jim said, “that was a brave thing you did. Can you tell me anything about the man?”
“He…he was wearing some kind of mask. And he wanted Ling.”
“What kind of mask?”
“…I’m not sure. It was like fake skin or something. I don’t know.”
Jim’s mind went immediately to the man at the bank, the one who had taken Auger. “And which one is Ling?” Jim asked, glancing over at the baby and the toddler.
“The older one,” Ayla said, pointing at the boy.
“Do you know how Ling came here to the Home?” There had been a lot of adopted children kidnapped over the last couple of weeks. It made him afraid for Eric, his own recently adopted son. Sammy Auger had been adopted. If it was the same man in the mask that had tried to take Ling today as had taken Auger, then he might be the same one who was taking all the other kids. But why? Did Ling and all these other adopted kids have the same kind of ability that Auger had?
“No. The Dybeks said someone just dropped him off, but the cameras didn’t get a good shot of him. Do you want me to call them?”
“Please do. I’m going to need whatever medical records they’ve got on him.”
Shawn and Viola rushed home and arrived at almost the same time about ten minutes later. Viola was visibly shaken and kept crying in short bursts while Shawn just looked angry. They made copies of all the information they had on Ling and gave it to the Deputy. Viola had taken the boy to the doctor’s and had him examined physically as well as mentally the week after he was dropped off. Unfortunately, nothing abnormal could be seen in the records, not even in his DNA analysis. Nevertheless, Jim was certain that the kidnapper was the same man who had placed Auger at the bank.
2068. August 19th.
A year and a half later. Upstairs in his room, Ling was excitedly showing five-year-old Gretchen, for about the twentieth time, his collection of Forcepeople action figures. Shawn and Viola thought that Ling was probably about four and a half or five by now. He had progressed rapidly in his time with them, which was unusual for a child showing such strong signs of neglect when he first came to the Home. He was now able to sleep in his own bed and was speaking nearly as well as any other child of that age. “This one is my favorite!” Ling explained. “His name is Machine Gun, and see; he came with a big machine gun that you can pull the trigger, and it sounds like a real-life machine gun!” As Ling pulled the trigger on the miniature gun, it gave out a quiet, rapid clicking noise, not at all like a real-life machine gun. When he had finished, he gently set the prized action figure down, last in the growing row of Forcepeople now lined up on the carpet.
As Ling turned, digging in his tote for another action figure, Gretchen picked up Machine Gun and his miniature weapon for further inspection. Gretchen Davis and her little sister, Jenny, had been at the Home for almost a year now, having been brought here by Peggy Kines after their parents were arrested at Mercy First Hospital with Cruise in their system.
Gretchen tried to put Machine Gun’s weapon in his hand, but it wouldn’t fit. The gun’s handle seemed slightly too big for the cupped hand, but she knew it would fit. She had seen Ling put it in a dozen times. After a moment of trying to fit the gun in, Gretchen brilliantly realized how she could remedy the problem. She bit down on Machine Gun’s hand, intending to pry it further open with her teeth.
Turning back around, Ling was horrified by what he saw her doing, “Gretchen! No!” He reached to take the action figure away from her. “I told you that was my favorite one! You’re going to break him!”
But Gretchen struggled to keep the toy in her mouth until she had finished her task. As Ling grappled with her, she accidentally bit down too hard and felt four out of five of the action figure’s fingers go down her throat. Instantly, Gretchen stopped fighting as she realized that she couldn’t breathe. The piece of plastic had gotten stuck somewhere on its way down.
Ling retrieved his toy and was anguishing over the man’s severed hand. “Gretchen!” he complained, tears welling up in his eyes. Then he heard the girl gasping for breath. “Gretchen? Gretch, what’s wrong?” Gretchen’s eyes were starting to bulge out, and her face was getting red. “Gretchen?” Then he realized what must have happened.
Instinctively, Ling stuck his forefinger down Gretchen’s throat and swept the piece of plastic free. Gretchen began to breathe again. She was coughing and still crying, but she was okay.
Weeping himself now, Ling walked Gretchen down the stairs and into the kitchen. “I saved her!” he cried proudly. “I saved her!”
“What?” asked Viola, going to them. She and Shawn had been busy cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
“I saved her! She was choking – got this stuck down her throat –” he showed her the severed action figure’s fingers, “and I saved her!”
September 7th.
About three weeks later. Viola was sitting on the edge of Ling’s bed, reading him a bed-time story. “And when the large fish had spit Jonah out, God again commanded him, ‘Go preach My message to Ninevah!’” She had made her voice sound deeper for this last part to sound more like God, but Ling did not laugh as he usually did. Looking over at him, she saw that he had already fallen asleep. Good, she thought. We can read the rest tomorrow.
Getting up, she put the book down on Ling’s end table and quietly walked toward the door. She had just finished dimming the lights when she heard Ling say, “You can turn ‘em off all the way. I’m not afraid.”
Viola looked back at Ling. His eyes were still closed, but he was grinning. “You tricked me, didn’t you?” Ling grinned even broader, and Viola pounced on him. “Tickle monster!” she yelled as she began tickling the little boy all over.
“Stop!” Ling laughed. “Stop!”
After a few more seconds of making the boy squirm and laugh uncontrollably, she did stop and waited for him to catch his breath. Then she said, “Okay, I forgot you’re not afraid of the dark. You’re braver than a lot of kids about that.”
Ling smiled. He had never been afraid of the dark. The lights in the Isolation Room and in the LifeSpace had been turned out every night.
“You know,” Viola continued, “I used to be afraid of the dark when I was little. It seems silly now, but I used to think that when the lights went out, these little, green goblins would come out. And if I stuck any part of my body out over the edge of the bed, they would cut it off! Pretty silly, huh? I don’t know why I thought that, but I did. Then, one night, I decided that I didn’t have to be afraid of that anymore. Well, good night,” and she leaned over and kissed him on his forehead.
That night, Ling lay awake for quite a while, pondering the possibility of those little green goblins Viola had talked about.
Ling woke up a couple of hours later with a full bladder. He kicked the covers off and swung his foot over the side of the bed. Then, catching himself, he quickly brought it back into the safety of the bed. How careless could he be? It wasn’t light out yet, and the goblins could have cut his foot right off!
Again, he lied there, silently debating the existence of the green goblins. He knew he had to make a decision. Should he risk getting out of bed to go to the bathroom? Should he call for Shawn or Viola to come turn the lights on for him? No. If he did that, they would think that he wasn’t brave anymore, that he was like all the other kids. And what would the goblins do if he called out? Would they jump up and try to make him be quiet? He didn’t know.
September 8th.
The next morning, Viola came in with Jenny to wake Ling up for breakfast. “Stink!” Jenny announced, pinching her nostrils together.
“You’re right,” Viola said. “Ling? Ling, sweetie, wake up. What’s that smell?” And then she found it. On the corner of Ling’s bed was a dark, wet stain.
Ling woke up. He did not look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he said ashamedly.
“No, Ling,” Viola laughed. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have told you about those silly goblins. We’ll leave the night-light on tonight, okay? I’m sorry. Now go on downstairs – you too, Jenny – and eat your breakfast. I’ll clean this up and then we have to go to the doctor’s, okay?”
An hour later. “Dybek, Davis” the nurse called.
“Okay, c’mon, kids,” Viola said, standing up in the waiting area. She took Jenny by the hand, leaving Ling to follow them.
“Good morning,” the nurse greeted sourly, holding the door open for the three of them. “Welcome to GenRes. I’m Nurse Mills. We’ll be down in Room Five today.”
Viola sat down with the kids again once they had entered the room and tried her best to answer Nurse Mills’ questions. She had a lot of them since this was the first time Viola had brought any of the Home’s kids to this particular doctor. She and Shawn had gotten a letter from the owner of the company, Dr. Temlane, offering free pediatric care to orphanages and adoption agencies. Shawn wasn’t sure if they should bring the kids here – he said that the company didn’t have a very good reputation – but since the Home was run primarily on donations, they agreed to take advantage of the offer, provided that they were cautious in doing so.
After a few moments, the Doctor himself walked in. He went straight to Viola and stretched out his hand. “Hi!” he said cheerily. “I’m Doctor Luca Temlane! Nice to meet you!” He then shook Ling’s hand. “You must be Ling! You’re a big boy, aren’t you?” Then, turning to Jenny and taking her hand, “And you must be Jenny! Are you ready for me to examine you? You’re not afraid of doctors, are you?”
Jenny looked up at Viola and then shook her head.
“No, I bet you’re not! You look like a brave girl!” Dr. Temlane then picked her up and sat her on the table.
Viola came over and helped Jenny undress. “I want to thank you for seeing us, Dr. Temlane!” Viola said. “We very much appreciate what you’re doing for the kids here!”
“It’s the least that we can do, Mrs. Dybek. This city has been so good to my family and me over the years that we want to do everything we can to help. Okay, Jenny, open wide!” Luca methodically checked the little girl’s tonsils and the inside of her mouth, then her ears, eyes, and scalp. He examined her all over, pressing here and there, looking for any abnormalities. He listened to her heart and lungs. Finally, he announced, “Well, everything looks good to me! How about you, Mrs. Dybek? Have you noticed anything I should be aware of? Anything unusual with her Down’s Syndrome?”
“No, no. I’m not an expert, of course, but from what I’ve read, she’s doing fine.”
Luca nodded. “Okay, great! Let’s get Ling up here and then we’ll take a blood sample from both of them, and we’ll be done. Sound good?”
“Sounds good.” Viola helped Jenny down and was going to lift Ling up, but he grabbed onto the examining bed and pulled himself up.
“I’m strong,” Ling informed the doctor.
“I can see that,” Luca agreed.
“And he’s the picture of health too,” Viola put in. “We’ve had him for a year and a half, and he’s never had so much as a cold. And you’d think he would, being in the house with all those other kids all the time!”
“Well, I guess he has a good immune system, huh?” After he had examined Ling, Luca said, “Okay! It was nice meeting all of you. Thanks for coming in. I’ll let Nurse Brandie take that blood sample from the two of them, and I’ll see you all next time, okay?”
“Thank you, Dr. Temlane.”
“Bye-bye now.” And with that, Luca left the room.
Nurse Mills rolled over to the examining table on her stool. “This might sting a little,” she told Ling. “But it’ll all be over soon so don’t worry.”
Ling winced a little when the needle went in, but then it was over, and he jumped down.
Next, it was Jenny’s turn to get back up on the table. Nurse Mills stuck the needle into Jenny’s arm. And then stuck it in again. And then again. “Blast!” the nurse said under her breath. “I’m sorry, Jenny,” she said. “I’m going to have to do it again. Your veins keep moving on me.” She missed again.
By this time, little tears had started to well up in Jenny’s eyes. She was trying so hard to be brave and not cry, but she wasn’t going to be able to keep it in much longer. Her mouth, nose, and brow were scrunched into a frown. Her bottom lip was trembling. Her eyes were begging Viola, or even Ling, to help her.
“It’s okay,” Viola assured her. “You’re a big girl.” But a second later, after the nurse had missed again, Ling, rather than Jenny, began crying. Then Jenny broke down as well. “What’s the matter?” Viola asked Ling in surprise.
“Make her stop, Mom!” Ling pleaded. “She’s hurting her! Make her stop!”
“Got it!” Nurse Mills announced. “Sixth time’s a charm!”
A moment later, the three were walking back to their car, the two kids grasping lollipops firmly in each hand.
While back in Room Five, “Blast if that little girl didn’t have some rolly veins!”
“What about the boy?” Luca asked. “Could you get him?”
“Not very easily,” Brandie admitted. “His veins weren’t moving like hers, but I had to push real hard to get the needle in. He didn’t seem to notice though.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’s strong, remember.”
October 14th.
Five weeks later. “Watch this, watch this!” Ling exclaimed. He and Gretchen had led Jenny into the Home’s living room with proud smiles spread wide across their little faces. “Go ahead, Jenny; tell ‘em what you want for dessert!”
On cue, Jenny began swaying her hips back and forth and waving her hands, first out to one side of her body and then to the other in imitation of Hawaiian dancers. In a sing-song voice, she said, “Sherbert, sherbert. Sherbert, sherbert.”
Shawn and Viola started cracking up and, encouraged by their response, Gretchen and Ling joined in with her. “Yeah, we want sherbert, sherbert. Sherbert, sherbert.”
When Viola was able to breathe again, she got all of the kids a big bowl of sherbet, even if they didn’t know how to pronounce the word correctly.
October 15th.
The next morning. It was Sunday, and Shawn was sitting in the driver’s seat of the Home’s van, waiting for Viola and Miss Woods to help all of the children into the back. It was a quick trip to God’s Love church. All Shawn had to do was tell the car where to go, and the satellite navigation system steered him there at speeds of over a hundred miles an hour. Still, Shawn did have time to think.
He thought about Gretchen and Jenny sitting on the bench seat behind him and about how they’d be going back to their parents tomorrow morning. It was always hard to say goodbye to the children, especially after they had been at the Home for as long as these two girls had. They had been with them for over a year now and it was especially difficult to let them go, knowing that they were going back to an unwholesome situation. He hadn’t met Marshall and Lucy yet, but he knew that they had been arrested for doing Cruise, the drug that had already done so damage much in Base City.
Shawn used to take a stand against Cruise as Shadowstar. Maybe he should again? But he couldn’t be as…brutal…as he had once been. Viola had shown him that. If he was ever going to go back out on the streets, he’d have to be a kinder vigilante.
It was something to think about. It was always in the back of his mind. But for now, he only knew that he didn’t want to hand Gretchen and Jenny back over to their parents. Yes, the Davises would have gone through the Rehabilitation Program, but how often did that work? Druggies usually turned back into druggies fairly quickly. Shawn knew that there were exceptions.
He had heard testimonies from former users about how God had changed their lives and broken their addictions, but those cases were rare and, as far as he knew, Marshall and Lucy Davis had not experienced salvation while in Detention.
Wouldn’t it be better if the kids stayed with him and Viola at the Home? That way they could take care of them and raise them right, or at least see that they were adopted by a good couple.
But, as the van pulled into the church parking lot, Shawn knew that wasn’t his choice at the moment. The Davis children were under the authority of the County via Peggy Kines. And Shawn had faith in Peggy. He felt sure she would keep an eye on the girls.
Two hours later. Shawn’s throat was getting dry. He, along with the rest of the 362 God’s Love worshippers had been talking non-stop now for about thirty minutes, ever since the 12 terrorists had broken into and taken over their service. A few people escaped out the side exits, but then the shooting had started. Fortunately, no one had been hurt. Shawn thought that they had probably been warning shots meant to intimidate the rest of the crowd into staying where they were, and no one had a made a move since.
The terrorists had come in near the end of the service, and so all the younger kids were still either in the nursery or in Jr. Church He hoped they were all okay, hoped they weren’t too scared. And if any of them has been hurt…, Shawn thought angrily, picturing what he would do.
The terrorists’ leader had handed the audio-visual guys in the back a cd and ordered them to put it in. It was a slideshow of the entire Koran, and the men had insisted that the whole congregation read it together out loud with Pastor Frank leading them from the pulpit.
And so they had been reading. And waiting. Waiting for LandForce to come rescue them.
But Shawn was getting impatient. Why isn’t LandForce making their move? They haven’t even tried to make contact with the terrorists yet.
And the question was, What would happen when the Force did make their move, and the terrorists realized they were out of time? Most likely, they’ll start shooting their hostages, and I’m not going to let that happen.
The leader was starting up his aisle again. He had been walking up and down every aisle, inspecting the congregation, making sure they were all reading.
“I’m gonna do something,” Shawn said, staring straight ahead at the projection screen, but saying it loud enough for Viola and Ayla to hear.
“What?” Viola gasped, turning her head toward him and then quickly facing front again.
“Don’t worry,” Shawn assured her. Then, nudging Ayla with his foot, he motioned for her to step back. He didn’t want her getting in the way when he made his move getting out.
Ayla stepped back as far as she could against her chair as Shawn glanced behind him and saw that the terrorist leader was almost to his row. Any second now, it would be go time. Incapacitate the leader, take his gun, and go from there. That was the plan.
But then there was the sudden sound of shattering glass and something whistling through the air.
The leader spasmed, threw his hand to the back of his neck, and collapsed. The same was happening to the rest of the terrorists all around the sanctuary.
A second later, Deputy PG Jim Slate, along with a company of Forcepeople and Emergency Rescuers, stormed in the back door. “It’s all right, everyone!” Jim announced. “You’re safe now! Stay calm, and we’ll get you all outta here as soon as we can!”
Shawn felt relieved and disappointed. Relieved because everyone was safe but disappointed that he had waited too long to make his move. He had lost his chance to be the hero.
2071. August 31st.
Three years later. Shawn and Viola walked into the Health Quest Gym, followed by seven-year-old Ling. All of the other kids were back at the Home with Ayla, but Ling liked to come along to watch Shawn and Viola play in their league’s volleyball matches.
They hadn’t been able to play last week because of the Chinese attack. Now, as the family walked onto the court, the mood was suspiciously tense. Rick, Shawn’s friend who had invited them to join his team in the league, was quietly arguing with the opposing team’s captain. Viola thought that maybe the guy’s name was Jack something – Jack Crisp? – but she wasn’t sure. She mostly remembered his face and remembered the fact that she didn’t care for him because ‘Jack’ had made some racial comments about her, Shawn, and Ling the last time their teams played.
“Go have a seat,” Viola said, pointing Ling over to the row of chairs on the sidelines, as she and Shawn slowly walked toward the group of players.
“But, Mom,” Ling protested, “I have a booger!”
Viola looked down and saw Ling with his finger halfway up his nose. “Stop picking your nose!” she laughed. “Nobody wants to see that.” She was opening her purse to dig out a Kleenex for the boy when she noticed Jack’s voice getting louder. She looked up and saw Jack pointing right at them.
“I’m not going to play with them!” Jack yelled.
Viola had feared something like this would happen. All week, it seemed as if she had been getting dirty looks from people whenever Ling was with her. But this was the first time she actually heard someone say something.
“Then you’re not going to play,” Rick told Jack, “because they’re on my team and we’re not playing without them. He’s a kid. You gonna blame him for what happened?”
“Mom, I gotta booger!” Ling whined.
“Then forget you, Rick!” Jack yelled. “We’re outta here! We’re not gonna play with a bunch of nigger gook-lovers.” Jack pushed Rick out of his way as he walked past him.
Now, Jack was walking toward the Dybeks and Ling on his way out of the gym.
“Mom!” Ling began again.
Viola leaned down quickly to the boy and snapped, “Be quiet!” in as quiet and as commanding a voice as she could. When she stood back up, Shawn had stepped out in front of Jack and was holding out his hand to halt his exit. She didn’t know what Shawn was going to say to the guy, but the next second, Jack had popped Shawn in the mouth and was already walking past him toward the door.
Shawn was bent over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “Shawn!” Viola cried, and bent down with him.
Rick ran over. “Are you okay?” he asked.
Shawn stood back up. His lip was puffy and there was some blood there, but not much. “I’m fine,” he said brusquely. How’d that guy hit me? Shawn wondered. I must be seriously out of practice.
“Listen, that guy’s a jerk,” Rick said.
“It’s fine,” Shawn said, turning to walk out. “There’s always gotta be some.” I just don’t know how he landed that punch. Is he a trained fighter?
“Shawn!” Rick called.
But Shawn, followed closely by Viola and Ling, kept walking away. Shawn called back without turning around, “We’ll see you next week!” I have got to start training again.
As they walked out the door, Viola handed Shawn a tissue out of her purse to dab at his lip. Then, she remembered that Ling had also needed a Kleenex and tried to hand him one as well, but he waved it off.
“It’s okay,” Ling said. “I put it in my pocket.”
2072. October 14th.
A year later. “You know you’re going to have to eat that one,” Shawn told his wife as he stirred the giant spaghetti pot.
Viola was carrying two cookie trays over to the oven. In the middle of one of the trays lay the most misshapen sugar cookie either of them had ever seen, caked with enough icing to give its eater a sugar rush for a week. “I know,” Viola answered, smiling. The cookie had been made by Ronnie, a three-year-old who had repeatedly told Viola that he was making it for her.
Just then, they heard a loud thump coming from the living room and a small voice starting to cry. “Uh-oh,” Viola said, not sounding very worried. She had learned over these last five years that kids fell or bumped themselves all the time and that it usually wasn’t a big deal.
Going out into the living room, Viola saw that everyone and everything was well, so she didn’t bother to ask what had happened. What she did say was, “Get your jacket!” when she saw Ling opening the front door to go outside.
“I don’t need a jacket!” Ling protested.
“You put a jacket on, or you’re not going outside.”
“Okay.” Ling sighed as he turned toward the closet.
Outside, the leaves were turning colors and falling. Ling was going to make a pile of them and then jump in. He grabbed the rake off the porch and was getting started when a car stopped at the curb. The car window rolled down, and the man inside called out, “Hey! Ling! Come here a sec!”
Ling wasn’t sure if he recognized the man. He thought it might be the guy who lived across the street a few houses down, but he couldn’t be sure. Ling decided that was who it must be and walked to the car.
“How ya doin’, Ling? Lingo, ol’ pal.” Bobby Fraley asked. “Listen; I lost my dog. You haven’t seen him, have ya?”
Ling shook his head. He still wasn’t convinced that the man was who Ling thought he was.
“Well, why don’t you get in the car here?” Bobby asked, pushing the passenger door open. “You can help me look for him. How does that sound?”
Ling didn’t move.
“C’mon, Ling! Don’t you want to help me find my dog?”
“I’m not allowed to talk to strangers,” Ling informed him.
“What? Ling, c’mon, man, don’t be like that, huh?” Bobby reached for the handle of the driver’s side door and pulled it. Without another moment of hesitation, Ling turned around and started walking hurriedly toward the house.
“Ling!” he heard the man call.
Ling glanced behind him. The man had gotten out of the car and was walking after him. Ling started to run and heard Bobby’s footsteps quicken as he began to run after him.
Just then, Viola threw open the front door and was yelling for Ling to hurry.
When Bobby saw her, he immediately stopped and turned back to his car.
Viola brought Ling inside as Shawn ran past them. “Hey!”
The sound of Shawn’s voice put Bobby’s feet to running. He got in the car, closed the door, and was just pulling away when Shawn caught up to him. Jumping onto Bobby’s car, Shawn spread himself out over its roof and held on.
“Shawn!” Viola screamed.
With speeds of over a hundred miles an hour, Shawn knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold on for long. He had to make the car stop, and there was only one way to do that. He had to get something in front of the car that would signal the satellite system to halt traffic. But what could he use? The satellite system wouldn’t stop for anything less than twenty pounds, and he didn’t have anything on him except for his clothes. Maybe he could smash out one of the side windows and crawl inside the car?
But Shawn’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gunshots and the sudden sight of raised dimples in the car’s roof. The man inside the car was shooting at him through the roof! With no armor, no weapons, and no way to stop the car before one of those bullets broke through the roof and found him, Shawn did the only thing he could. He rolled off the roof of the car and hoped to make a good landing.
He bounced off someone’s lawn and rolled. He came to a stop a second later and looked behind him. The car had stopped, too, only a few yards down the road! Viola or someone who had seen them driving by must have called LandForce.
The car’s door opened, and the man got out, running across the street and through someone’s yard. Shawn tried to get up, tried to go after him, but he couldn’t move. The impact of his landing had knocked the wind out of him.
If Shawn had ever gotten a good look at Bobby, he would have remembered following him to a drug deal once.
Half an hour later, when Shawn had finished giving his statement to the LandForce officers, Viola came and picked him up. He got into the car and Viola, refusing to look at him and with ice in her voice said, “That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
No, Shawn thought angrily, what was stupid was putting my armored suit away in the first place. If I had been equipped properly, that guy would’ve never gotten away.
2073. June 30th.
Ling, nine and a half years old now, was outside on the cement driveway, dribbling one of the Home’s basketballs. Shawn had set up a junior-size hoop for the kids.
Ling jumped and shot the ball, but it bounced off the rim. He ran for it, but then stopped when he saw a sleek, black dog running across the yard. Ling watched as the dog threw himself down and happily began rolling in the freshly cut grass.
A few seconds later, Ling saw a man with no shirt on come running toward the dog from the same direction. The dog didn’t see the man coming, and the man jumped on the dog before the dog could avoid him. The man held the dog down by his throat as he began to beat the black canine hard with his fists. Thump! Thump! Thump!
The dog struggled to get up, to get away, but couldn’t. The man was too strong, and the dog was trapped. Ling watched the man hit the dog until he couldn’t stand to see it any longer. It was like the man was going to keep hitting the dog forever! He wouldn’t stop!
Crying, Ling ran into the house, calling, “Dad! Dad! There’s a man beating his dog! He’s going to kill him!”
Seeing the distress on Ling’s face, Shawn ran outside with him, while everyone else in the Home hurried to get a view from the windows. The man was still beating his dog! “Hey!” Shawn yelled at the man. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The shirtless man turned, his hand still tightly wrapped around the dog’s throat. It was the first time the man had noticed anyone else around. “It’s my dog,” the man panted. “He ran away. I had to run to get him.”
“You ran to get him so you could kill him?” Shawn questioned. “Might as well have let him run away. You know what I mean? Dead dog doesn’t do you any good.”
“Nobody asked you!” the man snapped.
Shawn had been trying to stay calm but was getting angry now. He raised his voice, saying, “You asked me when you ran into my yard and started beating that animal in front of my kids!”
The man saw Ling’s tear-stained face, looked at the kids in the window, but didn’t say anything. Shawn continued, “Next time you need to collect your dog, that’s fine, but don’t beat him like that again.”
Getting up, the man took hold of the dog’s collar and walked off, dragging the beaten animal after him. When he had gone, Shawn knelt down in front of Ling and hugged him. Then, pushing Ling back so he could look at him, Shawn said, “You’re a good boy, Ling. You know that? You’re a good boy.”
2077. May 2nd.
Three years later. “Guess you lost!” Jason sneered.
A group of kids arriving at school had gathered around, and Ling didn’t know what to say. The big news all over the TV last night was that after six years of fighting, the war was over. The Chinese had surrendered, and the U.S. had possession of the alien ship.
The thing was that Ling knew he was Chinese. He looked Chinese, at least. He had a Chinese name. But, at the same time, Ling felt more American than Chinese. He knew he had been brought to the Dybeks’ when he was little. It was possible he had been born in China, but he had lived here for as long as he could remember.
“We should prob’ly send him back to China!” Keith said.
“Yeah!” Jason said. “Send the Chinaman back where he came from.”
“Shut up!” Ling said, moving to break out of their circle. He wanted to go home, but knew he couldn’t. His next desire was for the bell to ring so class would start. Then they would have to leave him alone.
“Why?” Jason said, following him. “You gonna cry? You gonna cry because you lost?”
“I didn’t lose!” Ling shouted, whirling around and punching Jason in the mouth. “I wasn’t even there! And neither were you!”
A second later, their teacher, Mr. Finer, had a hold of them both, walking them toward the principal’s office.
Ling, crying, said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit him. He just made me so mad.”
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