Part 6 (1/2)

Proteins and Periodicity

”Where are we?” Abbey scanned the horizon for anything other than dunes. But every way she turned she saw the crescent-shaped rising curves and more angular slip faces of an Aeolian desert. They were smallish for dunes, just a bit taller than she was, not like the seven hundred-foot dunes they'd climbed at Great Sand Dunes National Park the summer before.

”This can't be the same place we were yesterday.” Abbey placed one toe so it was touching the edge of the stones. Then she unzipped her raincoat and tied it around her waist.

Caleb and Simon similarly disrobed. Simon's pale face looked stark in the sun. The light sliced angles into his features as Abbey's eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness.

”Maybe it's a different part of the same place,” Caleb said, squinting. He bent down and let a handful of golden sand sift through his fingers.

”I dunno, but I don't like it.” Simon scowled. ”We better go back.”

”But Mantis could be coming up the hill. He could be looking for us,” Abbey said.

”Or he could show up here any second and then he'd have us where he wants us. Miles of sand, no witnesses. All he'd have to do is run us away from the stones and we'd die of thirst before we ever found them again,” Simon said.

Abbey pressed her foot harder against the stone.

”We could go hide behind one of the dunes. Wait for a bit to make sure he doesn't come through and then go back,” Caleb suggested.

”How will we find the stones again? The sand will cover them. All the dunes look alike,” Abbey said, trying to shake off the creepy feeling of Mantis's pincer-like arms on her shoulder.

Caleb ran his hand through his hair. ”Maybe we could mark them. Put something into the sand. A stick or something.”

”Do you see a stick anywhere?” Simon said.

”Empty your pockets. Someone has to have something.”

The contents of their pockets were turned out. All three had house keys. Abbey had a pen, cell phone, and her plastic pocket periodic table. Simon had his iPod and headphones, several quarters, and the crumpled email from the previous day. Caleb had a chocolate bar wrapper, an old movie pa.s.s, his list of clues, and some lint. None of them had their backpacks. Simon had already dropped his off at the house, and Abbey's and Caleb's sat in Mark's bedroom.

Caleb surveyed the supplies. ”Okay, we stick the pen in the sand by the stones and then just go hide behind that dune there. Wait twenty minutes and then go back.”

”We better not push it, Cale. In this heat with no water, we're gonna be toast pretty soon, literally,” Simon said.

They drove the pen as deeply into the sand as they dared, wanting it to still be visible, but not wanting it to fall over and be buried. Abbey looked over her shoulder every few seconds as they scaled one of the dunes and settled behind it. The pen was still visible, curls of sand weaving around its base. An electrical charge held the sand there, just centimeters above the dune, like a magical suspended carpet, marking their way home-a trick of the quantum world. Sand blowing across sand steals loose electrons, creating a static force field. Time travel was also possible in the quantum world, but only backward, and only by electrons.

Simon and Caleb settled themselves into a crouch behind the dune. Abbey sat. Caleb poked his head up every few minutes to see if anyone had come through the stones. Drops of sweat ran down Abbey's back and legs. The heat, initially welcome after the chill of the forest, saturated her skin, insinuating itself into her system. It had a suffocating effect, slowing the movement of her limbs, her breathing, and her thinking, making everything seem slurred and disa.s.sociated. The sand scorched her hands and her throat ached for moisture. She swallowed and closed her eyes against the glare, which slivered into her corneas, threatening to fracture them into a thousand pieces. She wrapped her hoodie around her head and pressed her forehead against her knees.

Abbey jumped when Simon poked her. ”Give me your cell phone,” Simon said. ”I want to check something.” She screwed up her nose but pa.s.sed it over. He slid his fingers over the screen to activate it and then stared. Then he looked at Abbey and Caleb.

”It's picking up a signal.”

”What?” Abbey asked.

”It's picking up a signal. A cell phone tower signal.”

”Try calling someone then, or check Google maps,” Caleb said.

Simon's brow furrowed. ”Who would you suggest calling? Mom? Our coverage is limited to local calls and data, and somehow I don't think we're local right now.”

Caleb lifted his shoulders slightly. ”I dunno, but it's worth trying something. Call four-one-one, or nine-one-one. Those are supposed to be free calls. See what happens.”

Simon didn't move. Drops of sweat had appeared on his forehead. Patches of wet stained his underarms. He thrust the phone at Caleb. ”You do it.”

”No prob. You really need to work on your phone phobia, bro. How are you ever going to get a date?” said Caleb.

Simon glared and then looked away out over the dunes. ”It won't work anyway,” he muttered as Caleb punched in numbers.

Simon's fingers closed around Abbey's arm. ”What's that?”

Abbey whirled her head in the direction Simon was pointing. Had Mantis found them? Caleb hit cancel on the phone.

A golf-cart-like vehicle moved toward them over the dunes. As it crested each dune, it rose up out of the sand, first its red roof, then the gla.s.sed-in compartment containing what looked like a man, and finally its s.h.i.+ny, candy-red body and bulbous, black tires. Then it sank, bit by bit, back into the next golden mound, only to rise up again a few seconds later, getting closer each time. The man driving it appeared to be normal-two eyes, albeit hidden behind dark gla.s.ses, two ears, and a nose-all in the right places. He wore some sort of white Middle Eastern garb on his body and head. And he appeared to have seen them, as he waved occasionally and drove straight toward them.

”What do we do?” Abbey asked.

”I dunno,” replied Caleb. ”He looks friendly. We could ask him where we are.”

”Are you daft? Do we really need to have another conversation about stranger danger?” Abbey's voice came out as a croak. ”We need to get home. We can't be out in this heat much longer. I don't feel so well and it's getting hard to breathe.” Her rubber boots felt filled with pools of sweat.

”Ab's right, Caleb,” Simon said. ”We can't stay here.”

Caleb darted another look at the approaching vehicle. ”What do you suggest?”

”Go back through the stones,” Abbey said.

Simon suddenly shoved them both down into a crouch, pointing over the dune to the stones.

Abbey stared.

Mark was standing on the stones, rotating slowly to look in each direction. He had an expression of utter dismay on his face and a kitchen knife tucked in his belt.

”What's he doing?” she mouthed to her brothers, hunching even lower.

”Maybe he's with Mantis,” Caleb said.

Abbey shook her head. ”Mark seemed afraid of Mantis.”

Caleb gave a noncommittal shoulder twitch. ”Why was Mantis at the Forresters' house though? And what's up with the knife? The bottom line is we can't trust Mark. I say we take our chances with Golf-Cart Guy.”

Mark bent and extracted their pen from the sand. He stared at it as if he wasn't quite sure what it was. Then he put it in his pocket.

Simon tightened his lips. ”If we're going to go with Golf-Cart Guy, we'd better go before he comes over one more dune, or Mark will see him.”

Before waiting for Abbey to say anything, Simon and Caleb took off in a crouch down the dune and over the next. Abbey ran after them, sweat running down her almost-shaking body, calling as softly as she could, ”You idiots. How are we going to find our way back to the stones?” But it was too late.

The man in the cart put on the brakes as soon as they reached him. The frames of his sungla.s.ses contained a thick slab of plastic.