Nightrise

spots of bright red blood on his white shirt.
    "Was he with her?" one of the paramedics asked. The boy looked as though he was in shock. Maybe it was his mother who had been killed.
    "No," Nathalie replied. "He's with me." She turned to Jamie. "We have to get him out of here," she said.
    "Scott!" Jamie crouched beside his brother. Scott had blocked him out before but if he saw him, if he heard his voice, maybe it would be different. "It's me…Jamie. It's all right now. Nightrise is finished.
    They've closed Silent Creek. I've been looking all over the place for you but I'm here. Everything's going to be okay."
    Something passed very briefly through Scott's eyes — perhaps a flicker of recognition. He opened his mouth and tried to speak but no words came. Jamie turned to Nathalie Johnson and there were tears in his eyes. "What have they done to him?" he cried. "What have they done?"
    Between them, they helped Scott to his feet and carried him along with them. He moved like a sleepwalker, not resisting but seemingly unaware of where he was going. Alicia was waiting for them at the bottom of the bleachers with Daniel. She hadn't been able to come any closer. She couldn't expose her eleven-year-old son to the sight of the dead woman.
    "Jamie! Scott!" She didn't know what to say.
    "Are you Alicia McGuire?" Nathalie asked.
    'Yes."

    "It's all right. I'm a friend. John told me about you."
    "Who are you?" Alicia asked.
    Nathalie looked around her. The streets were emptying rapidly, people scattering in all directions. Soon there would only be policemen left. "We can't talk here," she said. "We have to get these boys on their way."
    "On their way where?"
    "Alicia…!" It was already too late. Jamie pointed. The policeman with the moustache was striding purposefully toward them. He had unfastened his holster and his hand was on his gun.
    "Tyler." The single word was an accusation. The policeman stood with his legs slightly apart, like a cowboy in an old film. "Jamie Tyler. Right?"
    "No." Jamie looked him straight in the eyes and pushed. "Jamie Tyler was here but he's gone. You've missed him. And now you've got to help all these people. You're not interested in us."
    The policeman frowned as if he hadn't quite heard what Jamie had said. Then he relaxed. 'You're right, I've got to help these people…" He turned around and walked away.
    Nathalie Johnson stared, not sure what she had seen. But Alicia understood. Jamie had done the same thing when they were trapped in Don White's house in Sparks. Even so, she shivered. She couldn't imagine what it must be like for a fourteen-year-old to have so much power.
    She turned to Nathalie. "Listen to me," she said. "We're not going anywhere until we know who you are."
    "I'm Nathalie Johnson."
    The name meant something. Alicia had seen it in the news. "Computers?" she asked. "Are you that Nathalie Johnson?"
    ''Yes."
    ''You helped the senator. You did a couple of fundraisers last year…"
    ''Yes. But that's not why I'm here." Nathalie stopped. The policeman with the moustache had disappeared but she had no doubt that others would soon arrive. They had been lucky that he had decided to make the arrest on his own — but he would surely have put out an alert before he moved in.
    "I have a car very near here," she said. "Will you come with me at least that far? I'll tell you the rest once we're on the way."
    Alicia nodded. She couldn't take her own car. The police were certain to be guarding it, waiting for her to return. And anyway, they would have circulated its plate number.
    They hurried around behind the bleachers and down toward the statue. Nathalie first. Then Jamie and Alicia, guiding Scott between them. Finally Daniel. As they went past, Jamie glanced one last time at the statue. He felt a strange mixture of emotions, looking at the craggy face, doomed to kneel forever with the dusty highway in front of him. The prospector had traveled a long way to deliver his warning. At least Jamie hadn't let him down.
    Nathalie's car — a blue Mercedes — was parked nearby in a spot reserved for VIPs. Normally, she would have had a chauffeur, but today she had decided to drive herself.
    'You can take my car," she said. She handed Alicia the keys. "The best way I can help you is to make some calls."
    "Where should I go?" Alicia asked.
    "Give me a minute. You need to get to an airport. I'm just trying to think which one."
    "An airport?"
    Nathalie sighed. "I know this is difficult for you, but you