Restoring Harmony Read online

  And oddly enough, I did feel safe with them. The waiting room was crowded with people wanting to board the train when it came in, and we immediately went to work, trying to spread the Word. I had a solid wall of boys around me, though, so I never had to talk to anyone directly. I just carried the Book, still wearing my helmet and keeping my head down. Spill was positive that Randall and his partner didn’t know about the Studebaker and would be checking all the trains into Seattle just in case, and it turned out he was right.

  When it finally pulled in, there was mass confusion as the people in the waiting room pushed to get out onto the platform and the debarking passengers swam upstream to get inside. Four of us jumped up onto a bench, the other three surrounding me, blocking me from view. I had two jobs. The first was to find my grandparents and the kids, and the second was to watch out for anyone I recognized from the Organization. I saw them all at once.

  “They’re right behind them!” I whispered to Brother Samuel.

  “What? Who?”

  “Randall and his partner. They’ve spotted my grandparents, and they’re following them!”

  I pointed them out and a message passed from Brother to Brother. I watched in amazement as first one Brother and then another wormed his way in between Randall and my grandparents. In less than thirty seconds, the gap between them had widened to twenty people. I saw Randall’s partner push Brother Paul out of his way, and I ducked my head and turned my back, just as Randall shoved past our bench, trying to catch up with my grandparents and the kids.

  More Brothers worked their way between them, stopping other passengers and asking to talk about the Lord. By the time my grandparents got to the big front doors, the Brothers had encircled them, and Randall and his partner were being swept away, back towards the train, with the last of the passengers who wanted to board.

  We jumped down off the bench and ran through the crowd after my family. By the time we got outside, I could just see the tops of my grandparents’ heads as they were being pulled away by the Brothers in trailers. I couldn’t see Brandy or Michael, but I knew they must be with them, and I said a little prayer of thanks.

  The mission was a massive Victorian house on the outskirts of the downtown area. All the houses around it looked like they might collapse with the next breath of wind, but the mission stood proudly, painted white with blue trim, in a perfectly manicured front yard surrounded by a welcoming picket fence with an open gate.

  It was run entirely by women, and they ushered us inside. Before I’d had time to do more than hug my grandparents and the kids, the women had us sitting down at the table to steaming bowls of oatmeal.

  “Wait,” I told Brandy and Michael, reaching out and stopping them from digging in. My grandparents never said the blessing, but we always did at home, and I had a feeling that’s why the Matron was standing at the head of the table.

  “Please bow your heads,” she said.

  Everyone at the table did, including my grandparents, and I nodded to Michael and Brandy to follow along.

  “Amen,” we said, when she had finished saying grace.

  “Now you can eat,” I told the kids.

  Spoons clinked against bowls all up and down the long narrow tables. About two dozen people shoveled the food into their mouths without a word. They looked rough and dirty against the spotless floors and shining windows.

  I brought my grandparents up to speed in hurried whispers while we ate. “Spill told the Brothers our whole story,” I explained to my grandparents. “And they decided to help us.”

  “We sure were surprised,” Grandpa said, “to get swept up by them at the train station. We were already in the trailers before we even knew what was going on.”

  “I was standing on a bench,” I said. “You should’ve seen it from there. It was almost like a dance.”

  Before we finished, Michael had laid his head down on the table and fallen asleep. A girl about my age, in a long black skirt and white blouse, took our bowls away. “The dormitories are usually closed during the day for cleaning,” she said, “but Elder Mathew requested that we let you all sleep. I’ll show you the way if you’re ready.”

  “I want to wait for Spill,” I said.

  There was a common room, also closed until the evening, but I offered to clean it in exchange for being allowed to stay in there, and the girl said I could. I took the bucket she gave me, glad to have something to do, and got to work. I had dusted the worn furniture, emptied the ashes out of the fireplace, swept and scrubbed the floor, and cleaned the mirror, and Spill still hadn’t shown up. After that, I alternated between pacing up and down the small room and staring out the front window. Finally, I saw four Brothers riding up on their bikes. I ran out to meet them.

  Spill and Paul weren’t with them, though.

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  One of the boys handed me a note and then they all rode away.

  It said:

  The Brothers will take you to Elliott Bay

  tonight at 10:45. We sail at 11 pm on the

  Marybelle, moored about halfway down dock

  J on the left side. Meet you there. S

  Why hadn’t he come back to wait here? I went to the common room half mad, half worried. I was still there, pacing, when Grandpa came down later in the afternoon.

  “Sit down,” he said. “Try to relax. Have a sandwich with me.”

  “I can’t relax,” I said, still pacing. “I’m just so worried we’re going to end up in quarantine somewhere. We have got to get you home to take care of Mom.”

  Grandpa got up and led me over to the couch. “You’re doing the best you can, Molly. You have to stop being so hard on yourself. We’ll get there. And your mom will be okay.”

  “But what about the diabetes?” I demanded.

  “If your dad has to,” Grandpa said, “he’ll get her to the hospital.”

  “It’s a ferry ride,” I said. “And then twenty-two kilometers away! She can’t travel that far.”

  “Molly . . . all you can do is have faith. That’s how I got through your grandmother’s illness.”

  I hadn’t really considered how hard Grandma’s stroke must’ve been on Grandpa. “Yeah, okay.” I sighed. I knew he was right. “I’m just feeling blue.”

  He put his arm around my shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

  “I’m also worried about Spill. I just keep thinking that because he’s twenty-one they’re not going to give up now. The Organization wants him back, and as Randall says, ‘The house always wins.’ ”

  “Ah . . . Soriano.”

  “What?”

  “The House Always Wins. It’s a famous book.”

  Grandpa took a bite of his sandwich.

  “It is?”

  “Sure. It came out in twenty-nine or thirty. This guy, Soriano, wrote a book predicting that while the Collapse was inevitable, it wouldn’t really affect the rich because the house always wins, or the rich are always rich. The people who run the world, just like the people who run the casinos, always come out on top. Get it?”

  “Yeah . . . ,” I said. “And he was right too, wasn’t he?”

  “Well, he was right about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you want to make a lot of money fast so that you’re one of the rich ones, write a book telling them how to hold on to their money. The ebook was a huge success. It was on the New York Times Best-Seller list for over a year.”

  Something clicked into place in my brain. “And the author’s name was Soriano?”

  “Yeah. I can’t remember his first name. Alfonso? Maybe . . . no, Alfonso Soriano was a baseball player. . . . Hmmm.”

  Grandpa flipped through the pages of his memory, but I wasn’t listening anymore. If my hunch was right, I had all the information I needed. Soriano’s first name didn’t matter because passwords were usually just one word.

  42

  A GROUP OF ABOUT TEN BROTHERS TOOK US TO Elliott Bay, and I gave them my bike a
s a thank-you for their help. “God be with you,” Elder Mathew said, shaking my hand.

  “And also with you,” I answered, feeling a little silly, but that was how the other boys always answered him.

  The five of us made our way down the long dock towards the Marybelle. About half the berths were filled, and even though most of the boats had at least one lighted lamp hanging on them, all the decks were deserted. The Marybelle’s single lantern illuminated the peeling letters spelling out her name. The smell of saltwater sent a wave of homesickness over me.

  Because of the polio threat, boats from the U.S. were banned from going into Canadian waters. The captain of the Marybelle told us as we boarded that the plan was for him to let us out on a deserted beach near Victoria.

  He wore black pants and a heavy wool coat with the collar turned up. His hat was pulled down low, and he had a bushy mustache that flopped around when he spoke. “That guy earlier never mentioned a suitcase,” he said.

  I shrugged and heaved it onto the deck anyway.

  “Cost you extra, that will. It’ll slow us down.”

  “How much?” Grandpa asked.

  “What’s in it?”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Weight.”

  “No gold bars,” I said, “if that’s what you’re thinking. Just personal stuff.”

  “Well, we’ll discuss it when we get there.”

  If we got there. The boat’s paint was peeling and cracked, the sails looked like they were made of scrap paper, and the ladder leading to down below was rickety and shaky. In the hull, Grandpa had to hunch over to keep from hitting his head. There were two tiny seats, kind of like the ones on the airplane, except they had some sort of harness that strapped over your whole front.

  “I’m going to wait for Spill,” I said. I hurried up the ladder before Grandpa could stop me. The boat was barely rocking, but even the tiny bit of motion had sent my stomach reeling.

  I wasn’t sure what kind of a deal Spill had made with the captain, but if it cost more than one piece of gold per person, he was going to make up the difference and my father would pay him back. Before we’d split up, I had given Spill all my gold except one piece, which we’d placed in a tiny secret compartment that Spill had built into the heel of my boot.

  “I’ll be back,” I told the captain.

  “We sail at eleven, with or without you.”

  I jumped onto the dock and ran about halfway towards land. There was a big wooden crate with heavy ropes spilling out the top, and I crouched behind it to wait. I wanted to make double sure no one was following Spill. If someone was, I had Randall’s gun, and this time I could use it if I had to.

  Less than five minutes later, I heard voices, and I could just make out two figures moving down the dock towards me. I watched, and as they got closer, I realized that one of them was Spill, walking on his own, but the other figure was actually two people. Randall had hold of Brother Paul, his arms twisted behind his back and a knife to his throat. I waited until they were about ten yards away and stepped out of the shadows.

  “What’s going on?” My fingers clenched Randall’s gun in my pocket.

  They all jumped. “Jeez, Molly! You scared me!” Spill said. His hair was a mess, and even in the dim light from the closest boat lantern, I could see he’d been hit in the face and a bruise was already coming up.

  “Just the person we wanted to see,” Randall said. He smiled like we were old friends.

  “Why are you holding Paul like that?” I demanded.

  “Because I’m here to make a deal,” Randall said.

  I waited.

  “Robert’s already agreed to come back with me. If you come quietly, I’ll let your grandparents go, and this guy too.”

  “I can’t do that,” I said. Slowly I took the gun out of my pocket and aimed it at Randall. Spill moved towards me like he was going to try to stop me, but I waved the gun at him and said, “Nobody move. Where’s the other guy? Randall’s partner?”

  “I hit him with a piece of metal piping,” Spill said. “He’s in the alley, out cold.”

  Randall laughed. “You shoulda seen Robert. He was like an action hero in the movies.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked Spill, and he nodded.

  “You gonna shoot me, Handsome Molly?” Randall asked. Paul shuddered and let out a little moan. “You didn’t do it last time you had the chance.”

  “I would’ve if I’d had to,” I said, breathing slowly to keep my voice steady. “Or I would’ve tried anyway. I know you let us go. Spill explained about the password.”

  “I can’t let you get away twice, though,” Randall said.

  I stood up straighter. “It’s not up to you this time.”

  Randall laughed. “Am I supposed to be worried that you’ve guessed my password?”

  “I didn’t take you for the book type, Randall,” I said. “Soriano had it all wrong, though. The house doesn’t always win.”

  I saw him blanch, but he kept grinning, and the lamplight reflected off his white teeth.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “You let Paul go, and I’ll give you your gun back so you don’t get kicked out of the Organization.”

  “And what’s to stop me from shooting you and Robert?”

  “Oh, I’m going to stun you first and then we’re going to escape.”

  “That could work. Or I could kill this guy,” Randall said, “and then take you both down anyway.”

  “I guess you could try, but right now I have the gun set on Shoot to Kill and I really want to get home.”

  Paul whimpered again, and I felt kind of sorry for him because he didn’t know what an excellent marksman I was.

  “So let me get this right,” Randall said. “I let the kid go. You stun me. You leave my gun, and you and Robert ride off into the sunset?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “Deal.” In one swift motion he flipped the knife closed and pushed Brother Paul away. “Get outta here!” he said.

  Paul stood there in shock for about a tenth of a second and then he ran, disappearing into the night. I’d had the gun set on Stun the whole time, and I didn’t hesitate. I laid my thumb on the thumbprint pad and fired. A red laser shot out and hit Randall in the chest. He fell to the ground, writhing, and then he lay still.

  “Quick,” Spill said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I laid the gun down on the dock, and we started running for the boat. I heard Randall scramble to his feet.

  “I told you once, Molly,” he yelled after us, “never tell your enemy what you plan to do or they can pretend it worked.”

  “Keep running!” I told Spill.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Spill yelled at the captain as we threw ourselves onto the deck of the little boat.

  The captain had already untied the thick rope, and he flipped a switch, sending a hum through the air, but Randall had caught up to us. Luckily the boat had pulled just far enough away to make it a long jump, and instead of trying it, he stopped and aimed his gun at us. “My suit’s got a lining of HyperFoil,” Randall told me. “Completely stun proof.”

  Spill flattened himself onto the wooden deck and tried to pull me down too, but I just stood there, smiling. “I figured,” I said. “That’s why I had a backup plan.”

  As the tiny boat pulled away from the dock, Randall tried to fire the gun, but nothing happened. We were thirty yards away by the time he realized what I’d done.

  “That’s right,” I called to him. “I didn’t just override your thumbprint, I reprogrammed it to mine. You have to figure out my password now!”

  Randall lowered the gun, and I swore he even laughed, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “Have a good life, Robert!” he yelled. “I’ll miss ya!”

  Spill stood up. “You too, Randall. Thanks for everything.”

  “Here’s a clue,” I yelled. “Eat your veggies!”

  If he answered, we couldn’t hear him.

  “You chose
a vegetable?” Spill asked. “That won’t take him long.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I said, laughing. “I chose zucchini, and I can never remember how to spell it.”

  43

  WE SCRAMBLED DOWN THE LADDER, AND GRANDPA grabbed me in a bear hug before I was all the way into the hull. “Oh, thank God!” he said. “I was afraid he was leaving without you.”

  I clutched his arm. “I don’t have a good feeling about this boat.”

  “Shush,” he said, glancing at the kids.

  “You don’t think we’re going to sink, do you?” I whispered to Spill.

  He laughed. “It’s all appearances, Mol. Relax.”

  But how could I relax? Worrying about ending up in quarantine or worse had wound my nerves up tighter than my curls on a wet day. Now that we were aboard, all my fears of trying to sneak the kids into Canada came rushing back like a tidal wave too.

  “Strap yourselves in!” the captain yelled through the open hatch above us. “Better hold the kids.” And then he slammed it shut, taking every extra scrap of fresh air with him.

  “Seems a bit excessive for a sailboat,” I said.

  “This boat’s a runner,” Spill explained.

  “What’s a runner?” I asked.

  “You’ll see,” Spill said, smiling.

  Grandpa’s eyes lit up. “Really? A runner? I thought those were only for the military.”

  “That’s why it’s disguised as a decrepit fishing boat,” Spill said. He helped Grandpa get into one of the tiny seats with Brandy in his lap and hooked the harness over both of them. Then he strapped Grandma and Michael into the other seat and put my fiddle, our packs, and Grandma’s suitcase in a storage bin and latched the lid.

  “I guess we’re on the bunk,” Spill told me.

  I sat on the edge. “I don’t think I’ll last for two days in here.”

  “Who said anything about two days?” he said. “It’s more like three or four hours.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “I did study geography in school. Sail-boats are really slow, you know?”