for Kim, whatever remained of her, surpassed my curiosity.
“Okay, we’re good,” Ellie said finally, opening her eyes. She sprang up from the pavement and grabbed my hand, pulling me along. “Walk and talk, girlie. You too, commando Joe. We need all hands on deck now.”
“What’s going on?” I hazarded a question as we ran toward the hangars.
“Kreios was here,” Ellie said.
“What?! When?”
“Day or two at most.”
I wanted to skip for joy. We were getting close. I wondered why I couldn’t feel him, couldn’t reach him in my mind. It annoyed me that Ellie could and I couldn’t, but should have been able to.
Ellie continued to drag me along; she was faster than she looked. Michael was falling behind, though he was sprinting and trying his best to keep up with us. “Hey,” I said, “wait for Michael. Hey!” The pace wasn’t slowing. “Hey, Ellie, where are we going?”
“I’m looking for a tool!” she shouted at me, exasperated.
We ducked in and out of open doors, around corners, looking for this tool, whatever it was, in every shed and hangar in the area. Occasionally the odd mechanic or private pilot would look up at us as we sprinted from one place to another, popping our heads into and out of doorways.
Finally, around the back of one of the hangars, there was a small shed rotting away in a state of rusty dilapidation, its corrugated metal sides and roof evoking something out of a role-playing video game. Ellie, still grasping my hand, gave a final burst of speed for the structure and kicked the door down. “There!” she shouted in triumph.
I didn’t get it at first. I was looking for some kind of hand tool, falling for, as Ellie had put it earlier, basically whatever my mind expected to find. I didn’t understand fully until Michael finally caught us up, panting furiously.
He placed one hand against the doorframe and looked into the darkness within the shed. “Whoa,” he said hoarsely, “A Bowler Wildcat!”
CHAPTER XV
LIKE I HAD ANY idea what a Bowler Wildcat was. Boys and their ridiculous off-roaders. And of course it was looming hugely in the shed, unmistakable had I known we were looking for a racing truck.
But I found out soon enough that it was indeed a tool. A tool for seriously fast going on any terrain. How did I find that out? Easy: Five minutes after we found the thing, we were racing east across a bumpy field of volcanic rock like it wasn’t even there.
Since it was a two-seater I had to sit on Michael’s lap the whole time, and contrary to what I might have thought, it wasn’t even close to fun. My head banged against the roll cage and the windows, my butt banged against his lap, my head pounded with the noise, and Ellie never slowed down through all of it.
“You’re a crazy driver!” I shouted at her. But I endured it for the possibility of being able to help Kim.
All Ellie did was drop the hammer, accelerating across the rocky undulating hills until it felt like we were either flying or sailing; I couldn’t tell which.
“So where are we going?” Michael asked, his voice cracking against the noise and heat of the cramped enclosed space.
Ellie pointed straight ahead and straight up. “There! Green Mountain! That’s where Kreios was and that’s where the Bloodstone is!” The racing engine roared even louder and we were gone in a cloud of dust.
Schipol, Amsterdam, present day
Schipol airport in Amsterdam was one of the busiest air terminals in Europe. Flights came in from and departed to nearly every continent. Great walls of steel and glass enshrouded it in a shrine to the sleek and modern. People from every tribe and nation walked its corridors every day.
Among them were two men lately of America, specifically Boise, Idaho. They walked and talked. Their layover would last only about one more hour, then they would have to board their plane for Cape Town via Johannesburg.
“You know, at some point I’m going to have to use the restroom,” Harry said to his companion. “What will you do then?”
“You wanna go? Let’s go.”
“What, together?”
“Certainly. Might as well get it over with.”
Harry shrugged and kept walking toward the sign for the men’s room. “What’re you gonna do? Lend me a hand as well?”
“You’re not funny at all,” Airel’s father said.
“I think it’s a fair question, since you’re nannying me.”
“No, Harry. You’re a big boy. I trust you not to soil yourself.”
Harry grinned a little at the