“Good night,” Roberta called after her. “I’m beat, too. Beat and bummed. I’m going to bed.”

  “Me, too,” Johnny said, getting to his feet.

  “I’m going to sit on the porch awhile,” Mollie told them. “See you in the morning.”

  Mollie walked out to the porch. The sky was pitch black. There wasn’t a single star in sight, and clouds completely covered the moon. Suddenly, the sky opened and a torrent of rain fell. Mollie settled on the swing at the far right of the porch. She sat for about ten minutes, thinking about Jaime. What if he was out there, alone or hurt in the rain? He could get sick. Or sicker than he might already be.

  The sound of ice clinking in a glass made Mollie jump.

  “It’s just me,” Johnny said, coming out onto the porch, holding a glass of water. “That attack made you real jumpy, huh?”

  “It was really scary,” Mollie admitted as Johnny sat down beside her. “I thought you were going to bed.”

  Johnny shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out here freaking.”

  “I’m not freaking. Not exactly. But I am pretty worried about Jaime.”

  “Jaime can take care of himself,” Johnny insisted.

  “Is that supposed to be comforting?” Mollie bristled. “We all can take care of ourselves until we’re overwhelmed by forces too great to overcome. And then we can’t take care of ourselves anymore.”

  “Okay, okay,” Johnny said. “I’m simply trying to stay positive.”

  “Sorry. This whole thing just has me so bugged. Why does Dayton Hughes’s name keep popping up all the time? What are we getting into here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure what I mean,” Mollie admitted. “Don’t mind me.”

  “Well, I can’t stop thinking about that wallaby,” Johnny said, putting his arm around Mollie. She snuggled closer and let her head rest on his shoulder. “How can two guys go out and find the wrong one? The odds favoring that have to be extremely small. Wouldn’t you say?”

  “Maybe you think that because nobody in California has ever gone out searching for wallabies before,” Mollie said, smiling. “Maybe there’s only, like, four places in the whole state where you might find a wallaby. But in those four places there are hundreds of wallabies just waiting to be found.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. It was kind of a nice image, though—all those wallabies just hopping around the vineyards. Or maybe you have to believe in wallabies to see them. Like with the fairies in Peter Pan.”

  “You’ve been hanging around Mrs. Santos too long.” Johnny laughed. “You’re losing it.”

  “Could be,” Mollie said. “I’ve probably just been in Lost Camp too long.”

  “Well, maybe I’m going bonkers, too, but listen to this idea. What if someone went out and bought a second wallaby to get the five-hundred-dollar reward?”

  “Wallabies probably cost more than five hundred dollars,” Mollie pointed out.

  “You’re right. Why, last week I saw them on sale at the supermarket for nine hundred dollars.”

  “I don’t mind eating them, but I hate cleaning them,” said Mollie. “Maybe you’re onto something, though. It could be that somebody bought the second wallaby to stop everyone from looking for the first one.”

  Johnny’s eyes lit up. “Like because somebody doesn’t want people prowling around Hierro Canyon. The same way somebody didn’t want Jaime prowling around.”

  Lightning flashed in the sky. A clap of thunder was close behind.

  “That’s got to be it,” Mollie said, sitting up straight. “We have to go back to Hierro Canyon.”

  “We’ll have to wait until morning,” Johnny said. “We won’t find a thing in this storm.”

  Mollie nodded. “Let’s go to sleep now and get up at dawn.”

  “Does this mean we’re not going to sit on the swing and make out and listen to this incredibly romantic thunderstorm?”

  Mollie stroked Johnny’s cheek and kissed him. “We both need to sleep,” she said softly.

  Johnny kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. “Are you sure? If you ask me, this is better than catching a few Zs.”

  Mollie wove her fingers through his hair. She kissed his lips. “Maybe we can sit here a few minutes,” she whispered as a second lightning flash lit the sky. “Just a few more minutes.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “Oh, gosh, I’m not sure,” Mollie said. “Turn left here. No, right. No, left.”

  “Mollie!”

  “Left. Left. Definitely turn left.”

  Johnny leaned to the left and steered his motorcycle around the turn. Mollie held on tight to his leather jacket, praying that this really was the right way to the airstrip. When Golly had been driving, she hadn’t paid very close attention to the directions.

  They came to another intersection. “Now what?” Johnny asked, idling by the stop sign.

  “Ummmmmm,” Mollie stalled.

  “Rrrrrrrrr,” Johnny growled.

  “You don’t have to be so grouchy,” Mollie snapped.

  “Grouchy! Can you blame me? You stop in the middle of a great kiss and say we have to get our sleep. So I go to bed. I toss and turn and toss and turn and turn and toss—”

  “Okay!” Mollie interrupted.

  “And turn,” Johnny went on. “When I finally get to sleep, you come wake me up because you’ve had a dream that told you we need to fly! In the middle of the night! Like, right now! Mollie, this is stupid!”

  “It’s not stupid. Einstein came up with his formula for E equals MC squared because of a dream,” Mollie defended herself.

  “Well, you’re not Einstein!”

  “Don’t shout!” Mollie shouted.

  “I’m sorry,” Johnny said. “It’s just that I’m tired. And I’m especially tired of being lost. If we take one more wrong turn, I think I’m going to lose it.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” said Mollie. “But I know we’re doing the right thing. The dream was so real. I was flying over trees. I looked down and I saw Jaime, and he was calling to me to help him. His grandmother had a vision about flying, too.”

  “Which is probably what was on your mind, which made you have the dream,” Johnny pointed out.

  “I don’t think so,” Mollie insisted.

  “Why couldn’t it have waited till the morning?”

  “Because in the dream everything was pink and gold.”

  “Oh, sure,” Johnny said. “That explains it.”

  “I mean it was daybreak in the dream. So we have to be in the air by dawn.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Mollie, sometimes I think you are the most logical, sensible girl I’ve ever met. And then other times I think you’re a total nut! I guess that’s part of your appeal. We can go right or left here. Would you like to toss a coin? Or consult your horoscope? Maybe you have a pack of tarot cards on you that might reveal the way to the airstrip?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mollie said. “I’ve just had a vision of a mystical sign. It’s telling me the way we must go.”

  Johnny rolled his eyes. “You mean like the holy spaghetti sign?”

  “No, like that sign over there,” Mollie said, pointing.

  On the other side of the road, its letters slightly luminous, was a rectangular sign saying: AIRSTRIP TWO MILES. An arrow under the words pointed left.

  Johnny revved the engine and turned.

  In a short while they were pulling up in front of Golly’s house behind the hangar. Suddenly the porch light came on. Mollie jumped as the snap of a bullwhip cracked the air. “Get back, you scum! And I’m not fooling!”

  Charlie Cannales stood on the porch dressed only in pajama bottoms. He twirled the formidable whip over his head wildly. “I know how to use this thing, and—” He stopped and squinted out into the darkness. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, and this is my friend, Johnny,” Mollie said, coming toward the porch. “Who were you expecting?”

  “I heard the motorcycle pull up, and I thought it was one of those greaseheads looking for trouble,” Charlie explained.

  “What’s going on?” Amel asked, rubbing his eyes as he stepped out onto the porch. “Hi, Mollie.”

  Mollie introduced Johnny and asked if they could speak to Golly. “He’s not here,” Charlie said. “He went to Los Angeles to get that kitchen stuff for the owner of the Sportsman, but the shipment was delayed or something. He had to wait for it. He said he should be back first thing in the morning.”

  “That’ll be too late,” cried Molly.

  “What’s up?” Charlie asked, yawning.

  “I wanted to look for my friend Jaime.”

  “We can take you,” Amel volunteered.

  “What about Orville?” Mollie asked. “Don’t you have to watch him?”

  “Un-uh,” Charlie said, getting up. “Dad took Orvie. He doesn’t trust us to take care of him.”

  “Yeah, just because one time we hung Orvie on the clothesline out back,” added Amel. “It was for his own good. So he wouldn’t get hurt while Charlie and I went flying. I mean, nothing bad can really happen to you while you’re hanging on a clothesline.”

  “You wouldn’t believe what a cow Dad had when he got home,” Charlie said, going back into the house. “It wasn’t like we hung him from his neck or anything. We strung the line through the sleeves of his shirt. No big deal. Wait for us a minute. We’ll be right back.”

  “These are the aces who are going to guide us through the skies?” Johnny asked when both boys had disappeared into the house. Mollie noticed a slight crack in his voice that she’d never heard before.

  “They’re great flyers,” Mollie said. “I’ve seen them.”

  “We’re ready,” said Charlie, hurrying back out onto the porch. He was dressed in a baggy palomino-print jumpsuit and wore a cowboy hat. Fat dark goggles covered most of his face. A helmet was tucked under his arm.

  “This does not give me a good feeling,” Johnny muttered under his breath.

  In the next instant Amel emerged wearing a baseball cap, a long white scarf around his neck, a Grateful Dead T-shirt featuring a skull, and baggy brown pants. He wore identical goggles and carried the same helmet as Charlie. “Ready for mission instructions,” he said cheerfully.

  “All I want to do is fly over Hierro Canyon,” Mollie told the boys. “I especially want to see the area where Joe Gemulka and his merry band of dirtbags are hanging out.”

  “No problemo,” said Charlie.

  Johnny and Mollie trailed behind Amel and Charlie as they ran exuberantly toward the airstrip. Johnny stopped when he caught sight of the two ultralight planes. “Those … those little toy planes are what they fly?”

  “Yep, they’re really neat. If the engine cuts out, they can glide.”

  “Glide,” Johnny repeated. “Why does that word suddenly make me nauseated?”

  “Johnny,” Mollie said kindly, “if you don’t want to come, I understand. Really, I do.”

  “No, no,” he said. “A tough guy like me should be able to handle a simple thing like flying … with two maniacal munchkin twins … who fly little, teeny, tiny twin planes made out of balsa wood.…”

  “They’re graphite fiber,” Mollie corrected. “It’s stronger than steel.”

  “Whatever,” Johnny said. “I can deal … I mean, I didn’t really want to live that much longer, anyway.… My best years are already behind me, if you think about it.…”

  Leaving Johnny rambling to himself, Mollie caught up with Amel. “What’s with the goggles?” she asked. “They look sort of dark.”

  “They’re army surplus,” Amel explained. “They’re for night vision. Dad uses them when he crop dusts before dawn.” He handed her a helmet. “This is for you. Charlie has one for your friend. The helmet has a little radio inside it so you can talk from plane to plane while we’re in the air.”

  “You mean we’re not all going in the same plane?” Mollie asked.

  “No way,” Amel said. “These babies are two-seaters.”

  “Well, with two planes I guess we’ll be able to cover twice as much ground,” said Mollie. “I hope Johnny doesn’t freak.”

  “Scared, huh?” Amel said. “What a geek. You should find yourself a real man.” Amel’s broad smile indicated that he believed he was just the man.

  “Just ask Charlie to go easy on him, okay?” Mollie requested.

  “All right,” Amel agreed, sighing. “Women! I’ll never understand them.”

  When they reached the planes, Mollie waved good-bye to Johnny, who was still muttering to himself. Once inside the ultralight, she put on the helmet and tested the radio.

  “ … Hey, and this kid looks capable.…” she heard Johnny still babbling to himself over her radio. “The cowboy hat is a nice touch … very reassuring … and I’m sure this helmet will really protect me if we crash.… Crash? … No, I didn’t mean to say that word.… I meant cash … we’ll probably find lots of cash.…”

  “Snap out of it!” Mollie scolded.

  Silence. “Thanks, I needed that,” Johnny spoke after a moment, sounding more like his old self. “I didn’t know you could hear me.”

  “You can still bail out if you want to,” Mollie said.

  “Did you have to use the expression ‘bail out’?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Ready for takeoff,” Amel said.

  “Hang in there,” Mollie whispered into her headset.

  “Hey, kid, how do I shut the door?” Mollie heard Johnny ask Charlie. “What do you mean there is no door?”

  Mollie sighed. It was nice to know Johnny had a vulnerable side—but she wished it had come out at another time.

  “Mollie! Did you know there are no doors on these things? Is that why you told me to hang in there?”

  “Just an expression,” Mollie said. “Over and out.”

  “Over and out, my butt,” Johnny said. “I want you talking to me.”

  After a smooth takeoff, they were soon soaring through the sky. Mollie couldn’t believe how silent the motor was, even though Amel informed her she was practically sitting on top of it. It was part of the military design, a way of moving soldiers behind the lines unseen and unheard.

  “It’s so beautiful up here,” Mollie sighed as the first rich blue light of dawn cracked open the black sky. The light show put on by the sunrise continued as they flew. Brilliant streaks of deep pink, lined with shimmering gold, illuminated gentle puffs of bluish clouds, which wafted by sleepily.

  “We’re over Stanley Gemulka’s trailer right now,” Amel informed her.

  “Johnny—we’re over the canyon. The trailer is below us.”

  Mollie picked up a pair of binoculars from beside the seat and looked down. A metal hangar and several barrackslike buildings had been erected a few yards away from the trailer. “What are those other buildings?” she asked Amel.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “They’ve only been there a couple months.”

  “Can we go lower?” Mollie asked.

  “Sure.” As the ultralight flew lower, Mollie continued to look through the binoculars. She saw motorcycles, tents—and then she gasped. Yolanda Santos’s red pickup—the one Jaime had been driving—was parked under a skimpy tree.

  “Can you land this thing without making a lot of noise?” she asked Amel.

  “No sweat.”

  “Great,” Mollie said. “Take her down.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Yuck! Mollie thought as she tiptoed around a snoring biker with a bottle of tequila cradled in his tattooed arms. All around her were strewn empty liquor bottles and junk-food wrappers. Here and there a filthy, passed-out biker dotted the disgusting landscape. Must have been quite a bash.

  The biker snorted and turned on his side, muttering.

  Mollie held her breath, praying he wasn’t about to awaken.

  When the biker settled back down, she continued on across the field of glass and paper. She spied two sleeping pit bulls, one tan, one black, huddled together near one of the tin barracks buildings. She hoped they were far away enough not to hear her.

  Her destination wasn’t far. She’d already decided on it before Amel landed. Just behind Stanley Gemulka’s trailer was a fairly large tent. A sleeping biker with a shotgun lying across his lap guarded it. Or should have been guarding it. Mollie’s guess was that Jaime was in that tent.

  Looking quickly to the sky, Mollie saw Charlie and Johnny silently circling. Johnny had radioed her not to go down; he was in favor of going back for the police. But Mollie had to go—she had Jaime’s insulin. The vials clanked softly in the inside pocket of her jean jacket.

  She neared the sleeping guard. He sputtered as she quietly moved past him. This is why I had to be here by dawn, she realized. The dream had been right.

  It was a funny thing about dreams. Were they psychic messages from some unknown messenger? A peek into the future? Or was the brain merely putting pieces together in a different way than it did during the day?

  At the back of the tent Mollie managed to crawl under the bottom flap.

  There, handcuffed to a rusty cot, was Jaime. Except for him, there was no one else inside. Barely daring to breathe, Mollie hurried to the cot and clapped her hand tightly over Jaime’s mouth.

  Instantly Jaime’s dark eyes opened in alarm.

  “It’s me, Mollie,” she whispered urgently, her mouth next to his ear. “Don’t make a sound.”

  “Wow! Mollie!” Jaime whispered as she lifted her hand. “How the hell did you get here?”

  “It’s a long story. Are you okay?”

  “Okay enough.” He shook his head. “Are you really here? Or am I dreaming?”

  Mollie smiled. “You’re not dreaming.”

  “You shouldn’t have come. These guys are animals. And they said they’re going to let me go tomorrow.”

  “I kind of doubt that,” Mollie said. “What’s going on here?”

  “I’m not sure,” Jaime said. “It has something to do with drugs. If I knew more, I’d probably be dead already.”

  “Have you got insulin?” Mollie asked.

  “Just a little left.”

 

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