Scott Westerfeld - Blue Noon

The fact that Jonathan’s trunk contained about half of the collection of firecrackers, smoke bombs, Roman candles, sparklers, and rockets of every description certainly didn’t fill him with relaxing thoughts.

“Just let me know if he comes this way again.”

“Don’t worry about the cops. I can taste those rednecks a mile off.”

He leaned forward to look up into the roiling sky, a flicker of lightning illuminating the clouds from within. “What do you figure about that rain?”

“In general, Jonathan, storm fronts don’t have minds. So I have no idea.”

He let out a short laugh, only half sure that she was kidding. Melissa wasn’t usually Jonathan’s favorite traveling companion, but he was glad she was with him tonight. He was too nervous to ride around alone, especially with the police hunting for what was in his trunk.

“All excited about tonight?” she asked.

“Nervous.”

It was Melissa’s turn to laugh. “Jonathan, I know you’re not completely dreading this.”

He sighed. There was no point in bluffing a mindcaster. The night before had been one long flying dream, a half-anxious, half-thrilled rehearsal in his mind.

Jonathan shrugged. “It’s something different.”

“That’s what I like about Bixby: always something different.”

“What about you?” he asked. “A whole day without… what do you call it? Mind noise? Isn’t that your dream?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Melissa said. “But as the rip grows, all those other minds will be sucked in, polluting our midnight. Frankly, Flyboy, I wish the secret hour would just stay between the five of us forever.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said softly. He hadn’t thought of it that way, but in addition to all the death and destruction, midnight was about to become something public, something less special. “Me too.”

They pulled onto Jessica’s street, five minutes early.

She was already outside and ran to the car, pulling open the door even before he’d rolled to a stop. She threw herself into the backseat and said, “Okay. Go.”

“Relax, Jess,” he said. “We’re ahead of schedule.”

“I need to get out there early, okay?”

For a moment Jonathan wondered what she meant, but then, slowly but surely, the only possible explanation crept into his mind.

“Beth?”

“Just… drive.”

“She gave you trouble tonight?” Jonathan shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, okay? By the time the sun comes up tomorrow, thousands of people will have seen the blue time for themselves. The secret’s over!”

“I know all that.” Her voice was tight, afraid. “But we have to get moving. Beth’s in trouble.”

He put the car back in gear, easing into the center of the street. “She’s not still out trick-or-treating, is she?”

“Much worse. She’s in Jenks.”

“ What ?”

“She’s spending the night with Cassie Flinders.”

Melissa put a hand to her head. “Guys…”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “But that’s right next to the rip!”

“I know !” Jessica cried.

“Guys!” Melissa said, her head tipping back, eyes closed. “Shush your minds!”

Jonathan brought the car to a stop at the next light, looking both ways and then into the rearview mirror, trying to think quiet, relaxed thoughts… and failing.

“Turn left,” Melissa suddenly whispered. “Don’t wait for the light.”

Jonathan spun the wheel and accelerated, whipping the car onto Kerr Street.

“He saw us. He knows your car…” She twitched. “Crap. It’s St. Claire.”

Sheriff Clancy St. Claire—Jonathan’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel as he imagined the lawman’s grinning face. The sheriff could recognize Jonathan’s car from a mile away.

“Which way?” he hissed.

Melissa shook her head. “Don’t know yet. Can’t feel any other cars, but he’s calling it in.”

Jonathan breathed through clenched teeth. They didn’t have much time to get clear of St. Claire. Soon there would be another cop car involved in the pursuit and then another—Bixby police never did things in small numbers. By the time midnight rolled around, they’d all be in handcuffs and miles out of position. Totally unable to help Beth or anyone else, for that matter.

“Hang on,” he said, and pushed the gas pedal to the floor, speeding down Kerr. A few seconds later lights spun in his rearview mirror, the whoop of a siren splitting the night.

“Oh, no,” Jessica said softly. It occurred to Jonathan that she’d been taken home by the cops right after she arrived in Bixby—part of her introduction to the hazards of the midnight hour.

“Don’t worry, Jess. We’ll get there.” He spun the wheel again, turning onto a small residential road called Mallard and hoping there weren’t any trick-or-treaters still out. Fortunately he’d flown over Jessica’s part of town dozens of times and could visualize it perfectly from a bird’s-eye view. Mallard took a winding route toward downtown, then branched into two roads a mile before hitting the highway.

If he could just get to the fork before Clancy caught sight of them again, they’d have a fifty-fifty chance of getting away. Which was better than nothing.

They swerved along the winding street, shooting through the narrow straights between parked cars. Jonathan had to force himself to look ahead instead of checking the rearview mirror.

Then—with a sudden whack! — something struck the windshield, and Jonathan felt the steering wheel slip from his fingers. Tires squealed for a moment before he pulled the car straight again.

“What was that?” Jessica shouted.

“I don’t…” Jonathan started, then saw a delta of yellowish goo oozing upward on his windshield, spreading wider as it was pushed by the wind of their passage. A tiny white fragment clung to the ooze, fluttering for a moment before it was ripped away.

“Just kids,” Melissa said. “And I think they’ve got a few more eggs for St. Claire’s car.”

Lightning flickered in the distance, illuminating the goo as it crawled across the windshield.

They reached the fork, and Jonathan veered left. Another mile ahead was the highway that led toward Jenks.

“Wait! Stop!” Melissa suddenly shouted.

“Do what?”

“Pull over and park! Clancy’s backup just turned onto this street. They’re right in front of us!”

Jonathan squashed his foot down on the brakes, bringing a screech from the tires. He swerved the car in behind a camper van and switched off the lights and motor.

“What are you doing?” Jessica cried from the backseat. “We can’t just sit here!”

“We’re not just sitting, Jess!” Melissa hissed. “We’re hiding!”

“It’s okay, Jess. We’ll get there.” Jonathan hoped it wasn’t an empty promise.

He slid himself under the wheel, one hand still clutching the dangling car keys. He wondered how fast he could get the engine started again if the other cop recognized his car.

Of course, if they pulled in behind them, they’d all be stuck here behind the camper van….

“Here they come,” Melissa whispered, huddled against the passenger door.

Jonathan heard the swoosh of tires whipping by and listened for the sound of them slowing. But no lights flashed, no siren sounded, and gradually the car faded into the distance.

“They’re gone,” Melissa said. “And Clancy’s headed the other way. He thinks he’s got us now.”

Jonathan let out a slow sigh of relief, but as he pulled himself back up into his seat, his heart sank.

A few raindrops had already spattered on the windshield. As he watched, they began to fall more swiftly, diluting the egg goo and catching the flicker of lightning like a hundred glowing eyes.