We Both Go Down Together Page 6

  Elaine got.

  The backseat was a snug fit, meant more for bags than for passengers. Jonathan hit the gas again as soon as Fran was in the car, and they tore back toward the street at an unsafe speed. “Where did he take our daughter?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the windshield.

  “I don’t know,” said Elaine.

  “Not the Gentling house,” said Jonathan. “Lynn didn’t know, and she’s close enough to returning that she wouldn’t have gone along with it. Not the hospital; there’s no way they could have hidden that many infants inside the building. But they’ll need space, and they’ll need to be on the road, if they’re transporting the babies out of town somehow.”

  Elaine gasped.

  Fran twisted in her seat, aiming her revolver squarely at the center of Elaine’s forehead. “Well?” she demanded. “Where are we going?”

  “The grocer at the edge of town shut down last year,” said Elaine. “Big building. Only two doors. No one owns it anymore—it was given to the town.”

  “Good,” said Jonathan. “Hold on.”

  This time, when he hit the gas, the car moved faster than any of them would have believed it could.

  The shuttered grocer’s stood right at the edge of town, near to the road and as far from the sea as it was possible to get without leaving the city limits. It was a free-standing building, separated from the structures to either side by narrow alleys that were nonetheless wide enough to allow a car to pass through. Jonathan drove slowly around to the back of the grocer’s, looking grimly at the ambulance that was parked there.

  He parked in the shadow of the ambulance, reaching over to grab Fran’s arm before she could get out of the car. She shot him an angry, bewildered look.

  “Let me go, Johnny.”

  “We can’t go in with guns blazing,” he said. “There may be infants in there. Our daughter may be in there. We go quietly and we don’t shoot until we understand the situation. Are you with me?”

  “I want to kill that bastard so bad that I can taste it, but yes, I’m with you,” said Fran, shaking off his hand. “Now let’s go bring our baby home.”

  “Can I stay in the car?” asked Elaine.

  “No,” Jonathan replied, and opened the door.

  The three of them crossed the parking lot as quietly as they could, gravel crunching underfoot with every step. Jonathan and Fran kept their guns drawn and ready, while Elaine looked anxiously around with every step she took, like she was waiting for someone to come and order her away.

  When they reached the back door, Jonathan motioned for the other two to be quiet and stepped forward, testing the handle. It turned easily. He pulled the door carefully open, holding it as Fran and Elaine slipped through the opening. Then he followed, moving from the natural darkness of the night into the more profound darkness of a disused building.

  Voices were coming from somewhere up ahead. The trio moved toward them, finally emerging from the narrow hall connecting the stockroom to the rest of the store and into what had been the main room, once upon a time. Someone had taken the trouble to set out lines of old fruit crates, nestling a baby in each of them like the world’s strangest and most expensive fruit. Angus was on the far side of the room, arguing in a tight, low voice with a grizzled-looking man in a fisherman’s sweater. Elaine gasped. Both men stopped speaking and turned, their eyes going wide at the sight of the intruders.

  “Daddy?” said Elaine.

  “Where’s our baby?” demanded Fran. Her words were accompanied by her revolver swinging into position, and as such demanded the immediate attention of everyone in the room. For a moment, everything was silent.

  Finally, Jonathan spoke. “You’re not armed, or you would already have gone for your weapon,” he said. “You don’t want to harm these babies. What are you doing, Angus?”

  “They deserve better than a short life by the sea,” Angus said. “You, of all people, should appreciate that. They deserve the chance to grow up before they start to lose themselves.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” said Fran, voice ragged from the strain of not opening fire. “Where’s my baby?”

  “I’m not answering because I don’t know the answer,” said Angus serenely. “She’s in one of the boxes. You’ll never figure out which one she is, and I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to. The men from the agency will be here tonight, and they’ll know which one she is. They have their ways. It was just good luck that gave us an early labor. You can’t hurt me. Maybe I’m lying. Or maybe in a year you’ll get an envelope that tells you exactly where your daughter is, which family adopted her, and where you’ll have to go to bring her home. You can’t—”

  Fran’s bullet caught him in the right shoulder. He yelped, staggering backward.

  “Where’s my daughter?” she asked.

  “I don’t know!” he shouted.

  “This time I believe you,” she said, and raised her gun again.

  “Daddy, why are you doing this?” Elaine didn’t appear to realize that she was about to witness an execution, or that half the babies had woken up and started to cry. “I thought you loved it here in Gentling.”

  “I did, until we lost Marie,” he said. “We can’t afford to move. This would have let you start a new life somewhere else. Somewhere far away from the sea.”

  Elaine turned her face away. She didn’t answer him.

  “Well?” demanded Fran. “Next bullet goes in your head.”

  “I don’t know!” wailed Angus. “I took the baby for security, but I don’t know which one she is!”

  “Fran.” Jonathan put his hand on his wife’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Don’t shoot him just yet. We may have a solution.”

  “Shooting sounds like a solution to me,” she said bleakly.

  “I know, dear. Just breathe.” His next statement was directed to the pocket of her coat. “You can come out now.”

  Two small, whiskered heads appeared as the Aeslin mice that had accompanied Fran to the hospital emerged. “Hail!” they greeted.

  “Hail,” Jonathan echoed, with much more solemnity. “You stated your intent to attend the birth. Did you see your new Priestess?”

  “We saw and witnessed,” squeaked a mouse.

  “Good.” Jonathan took his hand from Fran’s shoulder, holding it out for the mice to climb onto. Then he knelt, allowing them to jump down to the floor. “Find her.”

  The mice ran off into the maze of fruit crates and crying infants without another word. Jonathan raised his head to find Angus, Elaine, and Elaine’s father all staring at him in confusion. “That’s one problem solved,” he said. “Now the next arises.”

  “Let me kill them,” said Fran.

  “If only I could,” said Jonathan. “You will meet the men from the adoption agency. You will tell them there are no more babies to be had. Then you, Angus, will step down as Mayor. Go to the sea. Hurry your return. Forget that you ever dared to do such terrible things to your own people. As for you...” He focused on Elaine’s father. “You make me ashamed to be human. Leave tonight and never come back.”

  “I won’t be going with him,” said Elaine. Ignoring her father’s cry of dismay, she continued, “The hospital needs me, and I like my home. I don’t ever want to see him again.”

  “Elaine...”

  “You heard the girl,” said Fran. “I could still start shootin’.”

  The mice cheered. Fran lost all interest in threats. She lowered her revolver and ran across the room faster than Jonathan would have believed possible, dropping to her knees next to the fruit crate where the mice had stopped. Inside was a small, red, wrinkled infant wrapped in a white cloth. Its face was screwed up and angry, and it was crying, although not with nearly as much force as it had been a minute or so before.

  “Is this her?” Fran demanded. “Is this our Alice?”

  “Hail! Hail the arrival of the Remarkably Noisy Priestess!” rejoiced the mice.

  Fran reached into the crate, tea
rs running down her cheeks, and lifted her daughter, and held her close.

  “Are you sure you won’t stay?” asked Lynn, standing on the porch of her family home and twisting her apron between her hands. “I don’t know how to be mayor yet. I need some time.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” said Jonathan. “We want to get home. We’ve had enough of the seashore for now.”

  “I suppose...” Lynn looked past him to the car. Fran was already in the front seat, Alice in her arms. “Are you sure? Are you really sure you have the right baby?”

  “Yes,” said Jonathan. “I have to be, and the mice have never led us wrong.”

  Lynn sighed. “I guess that’s that, then. I...I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for us. I’m sorry about what my brother tried to do to you.”

  “All debts are paid,” said Jonathan, and picked up his suitcase before turning and walking down the porch steps toward the car, where his family and his future were waiting.