COSMOS magazine

Friday, July 4

Disturbed by a yapping dog, Alex sat up, not sure how long he had been asleep. He was still on the porch, head in his mother's lap. "Mom?"

Paul was saying: "But you might be able to win at the final hearing."

"I've already lost! Can't you see? There's no way... Remember the case Carol and I talked about?"

"Where the man gave his son veterinary medication, yeah."

"Mom?" Would they ever shut up and listen to him?

"Yes, but —"

"What's the matter with that puppy? Maybe he's upset about Sitka being killed. What is it, Basil?" Roberta was calling to the puppy.

"Mom!" Alex tugged at Jill's flowered skirt. "They don't want to take me back to Dad's house. The guy in the plane said they're going to take me to some kind of lab. Like Paul's."

"We'll talk later, sweetie." Jill turned back to Paul, but Paul was staring hard at Alex.

"Hang on. How do you know they want to take you to a lab, Alex?" Paul asked slowly.

Alex dug around in his bag and pulled out the radio he'd made from the pieces of old equipment dad had given him. "I heard them talking. I thought they were space aliens in a UFO. But it was the men in the helicopter. They want all three of us, but especially me."

Mom looked like she was really seeing him for the first time. "Oh my goodness! You built that?"

"Did you hear anything else, Alex?" Paul crouched in front of him, very serious, looking from the radio to his face and back again.

Alex thought hard, recalling the scratchy, broken words. "Mostly they were just talking about where we were and complaining about missing a Fourth of July party. There were some other men, they must have been in a different helicopter. Or an airplane. They said to be careful not to damage me because some guy needed me in the lab."

"Dear Lord. They know about the auxosomes," said Mom. "Somehow they know."

"A spy at MTJ?" Roberta looked appalled.

"Or the university." Mom buried her face in her hands, then straightened up. She had that look on her face she'd been getting more often lately; it meant she wasn't going to let anyone push her or Alex around. "We'll go straight to Mexico," she said after a moment. "Should be able to disappear. But obviously we can't use the Humvee, damn it, way too visible."

"They'll have our names on the computers at every border crossing," Paul said.

Roberta broke in, her voice soothing and confident in the dark shadows. "I think I know someone who can help. My housekeeper has family in Mexico. Various members come up here from time to time to work. She knows someone, a local woman, who... arranges papers for people."

"Fake passports?"

The shadow nodded. "From what Maisie tells me, this woman is a real artist. She can come up with anything you need." The puppy's yapping started up again. Roberta stood suddenly. "I think there's someone under the porch."

"Be careful." A decorative iron door was slightly ajar. The dog's barking grew frantic. Roberta leaned down, pulled open the door. Alex found a penlight in his backpack and handed it to Paul, who was peering into the dark opening, then glanced at Mom to make sure she was observing Paul's bravery as he shone the light under the porch.

"Wayne? That you under there? It's okay, man. The police have gone."

A commotion under the porch; Wayne squeezed himself out through an opening so small it looked to Alex like it would've been a tight fit even for him.

"'Bout scared the shit outta me." Wayne leaned against the stone wall, looking pretty sick. "Can you believe it? I got under there and fell right back to sleep. Haven't slept in three or four days."

"That's the regulator kicking in. Think you feel up to staying awake just a little longer? Roberta can get us some passports."

"Is there time for all that bullshit?"

Alex said urgently, "I think I see them coming back." He squinted at moving lights close to the eastern horizon. "More of them this time.

"They'll probably bring dogs to track us." Mom shook her head despairingly. "If there's any way to get Alex to safety..." She stood up shakily. "Maybe I can distract them."

Roberta said, "Pipe down. Listen." Everyone stared at her. "When my grandfather had the original house built during the Prohibition era, he chose the location for a..." She cleared her throat. "A certain convenient reason."

"The bootlegger fortune," Mom said, then looked away, embarrassed.

Smiling slightly, Roberta told them, "We're standing on top of the entrance to a series of caves. Follow me. If the boy is right about the police coming back, there's not a minute to spare." She led them into the house. Alex glimpsed shiny tile floors, brightly coloured rugs, and a huge white wall hung with large paintings. A heavy glass door took them into an open area with an irregularly shaped swimming pool in the centre, shockingly blue, illuminated by underwater lamps.

"Under the water," Roberta said, "you'll find a grate on the northern wall of the pool." She pointed. "Pull the grate off, swim through. Go up the steps you'll find there. You'll be in a small room you can stand up in. The water's only about a foot and a half deep in there. At the end of the room are some more steps. Go up the steps, and you come to a large pump. It looks too heavy to move, but the pump housing will slide forward, enough so you can squeeze through into the cave entrance."

"If they bring dogs," Jill said, "they'll follow our scent to the pool."

"Let me worry about that. Maisie and I have been house-training the puppy, we've got about ten different cans of spray stuff guaranteed to clean up odours. Just get out of here. But please, be careful." Roberta walked quickly back into the house, obviously taking it for granted that they'd follow her instructions. She'd left a couple of things out, though.

"Mute your cell phone, Mom," Alex said.

"What?"

"The phone. If it rings, it'll give us away."

She gave him a respectful look; it warmed him. "Here, hide it in your pack. Got a ziplock bag in there?"

"The pack's water-tight."

Swiftly, she delved into his pack, stowed the muted phone. "Okay, troops, I'll go first," she said.

Paul immediately rose. "No, Jill, I—"

"Let her go," Alex said, tugging on Paul's sleeve. He was still learning this new, tough side of Mom, but he already knew enough to tell that when she got that hard look on her face, it was not a good idea to mess with her.

Friday, July 4

Cutting through the cold water, soaked clothes clinging to her skin, Jill was filled with an old confidence, the way she'd always felt when she was a kid. She found the grate, pulled at it. It failed to budge. I won't panic, she told herself. Resolutely, holding her breath, she found hinges at the top, slipped her fingers through the grate, lifted up, pulled. The grate swung out and up at the same moment she knew her lungs were out of air. Fighting panic, she pushed herself through the small opening. Blackness ahead. Pressure squeezed at her chest.

Friday, July 4

"I can't see her anymore." Alex lay on his stomach, his head almost touching the water. "She's been down there too long. She's drowning!"

Paul realized he was holding his breath, exhaled, forced himself to breathe in slowly, calmly. "Don't worry, Al, she's an expert swimmer, remember? It's our turn now. Let's go, quick." He glanced at Wayne.

"You and Alex go first, then me." Wayne took a step back, away from the pool.

Alex jumped in with a splash, was gone. Paul followed without a pause. Chemical-tainted water stung his nostrils and eyes. By the pale green-blue pool light, he found Alex stuck in the opening and flailing; the bulky pack he still wore on his back had wedged against the grate. Clearly, he'd have to shed the pack. Paul reached for the straps and the boy kicked frantically. His shoe struck Paul's nose. Through blinding pain, Paul could see Jill's hands, trying to pull her son in.

"No!" he tried to shout, but the sound was unintelligible, even to himself. Lungs burned. He grasped one of Jill's hands, moved it roughly to the backpack. She stopped pulling on Alex, pushed him away. Thank God! She had understood instantly. Holding the struggling boy close to his own body, Paul kicked back to the surface. They broke free, frantically gulping air. As soon as his head was above water, Alex stopped kicking. He coughed convulsively, but Paul was relieved to see that his face was a healthy shade of pink.

"Alex, listen to me," he said when the coughing and sputtering stopped. "You're going to have to take off your backpack and let me pass it through to you."

Had he understood? The boy trod water while Paul slipped the straps from his shoulders. "Okay," Paul told him. "You go in first, then I'll hand your pack through and then come through myself." Alex dove, disappeared through the wall. "Come on, Wayne." Without waiting for an answer, Paul let himself sink, speeding his downward motion with his hands. He pushed the heavy pack through the opening, then squeezed himself through.

He searched with his feet, found a floor not more than eighteen inches below the bottom of the opening, pushed, burst up into air. Jill and Alex bobbed close by in the water, illuminated by a small electric light that shone from a ceiling barely six feet above.

"Automatic," Jill said. "It came on when I arrived on this side."

"We need to switch it off," Paul said. "Or the cops'll see it from over there."

"There are steps going up." Alex pointed to the side of the room opposite the opening they had come through.

"Let's go," said Paul. Jill was already kicking toward the steps. She found the switch with uncanny speed, flipped it off. Paul blinked in the dark, waited for his eyes to adapt. The room was not entirely lightless, washed by an eerie green glow from the pool.

"Where's Wayne?" Alex asked, anxious. He was pulling on his pack over his dripping clothes.

"I suppose we have to wait until the bastard gets here," said Jill. "We have to make sure the grate's closed. Where the hell is he? Maybe he's drowned."

"He's afraid of water," Alex told them matter-of-factly. "His little brother Robbie drowned. He's probably too scared to jump in."

"Shit. If the cops find him here—"

Paul said, "I'll go up." He turned back, but the boy grabbed his arm.

"Me. I'll go," said Alex. "He'll come with me. We're partners." He shucked his pack.

"Alex, no!" cried Jill, reaching for him; he thrust the pack into her arms. He was already underwater again, halfway to the opening. She took a breath, clearly preparing to follow him; Paul put a hand on her shoulder.

"If necessary, I can knock our gun-happy friend out and bring him down the hard way."

"Oh shit, Paul. Oh shit." Jill sounded as though she had lost all hope, but she made no move to stop him as he dove toward the opening.