No Passengers Beyond This Point(56)

Uncle Red.

“Finn.” Uncle Red smiles as if he wants to say something important but doesn’t know how to start. “I don’t have kids. I didn’t know myself how much I wanted them till I started talking to your mother about you all moving up here. It means a lot to me to have this chance to be a part of your lives.

“I’m looking forward to you and your sisters living up here more than I’ve looked forward to anything in a good long while . . . and I’ve been trying to figure out how to make you feel welcome. Got a hoop up already. The regulation kind. Your mom let me know you were particular. Talked to the school about getting you on the team too. The coach said he might have a spot . . .”

“Finn! Finn!” Mouse shouts. “C’mon! We’ve got to go.”

When I look up, I see three Falling Bird security guys in their midnight blue uniforms running toward us.





CHAPTER 32

PROPERTY OF FB

I’ve gotten pretty far, but now I’m not sure whether to stay on the main road, which is smoother, so I can get the cart going full speed, or go on the side roads, where I’ll have to go slower because of the bumps.

I’ve just decided to play it safe and take the side road when the radio buzzes.

“Two-oh-two, come in two-oh-two.”

My eyes find the registration for the cart while still holding tight to the steering wheel. The road is full of potholes. It’s hard to keep in control bouncing over them. The registration has that girl Pamela’s picture and the vehicle number 202. Pamela was really into that Jack dude on my wrist screen. I wonder if she even called in her missing cart. I’m guessing she didn’t. Should I answer and pretend to be her?

I grab the radio, take a deep breath, and push the receiver button. “This is two-oh-two,” I say.

“Francine here. Our board is showing you’re taking the vehicle out of your designated area.”

“Oh yeah, um . . . I’m having mechanical difficulties . . . with the brakes . . . they aren’t, um, working.” Screwed to the dashboard of the cart is the same brass plate that is in the feather cabs. Property of FB, it says.

“And you didn’t call in?” Francine’s tone is suddenly suspicious.

“I’m going too fast. Can’t take my hands off the wheel.”

“Oh, of course.” Francine’s voice softens. “I’ll patch in Mechanical Group,” she says.

Wait. What did Chuck’s note say? Wasn’t he talking about that dispatcher dude? “Is Sparky there? He’s helped me with this, um, problem before,” I say.

“This isn’t Sparky’s area, Pamela. You should know that,” Francine snaps.

Oh great. I blew that. How am I going to get her to put Sparky on?

What would a Falling Bird person do, I wonder, and then all of a sudden I know. I clear my throat. “Code eight-one-seven-two, Francine. Type two mechanical problems go to Sparky,” I bluff, and then I hold my breath.

“Eight-one-seven-two. Who even reads the eight thousands?” Francine grumbles.

“Rules are important, Francine,” I tell her.

“All right, all right. I catch your drift. I’ll put him through, though there are probably three people in all of Falling Bird who have read the eight-thousand codes.”

Mom, if you could only see me now. Mouse is not your only smart daughter!

“Sparky here.” A man’s voice comes on as my cart hits a rut, jerks left, and teeters precariously, almost flipping over.

I gasp.

“Sure you don’t want me to call Mechanical Group?” Francine’s voice again. Man, does she have to stick her nose in everything?

“Sparky, the brakes don’t work. Remember how you helped me with this before?”

“I’ll give you three minutes, then I’m patching in Mechanical,” Francine says.

Her radio clicks off. I take a deep breath. “Sparky,” I whisper. “I’m India Tompkins. Chuck said you would help me.”

The line crackles with static. I hold my breath.

“Pamela, yes. Been tracking you and the others. Slip it in neutral, pull the emergency, and give the accelerator a whack from the side. Remember how we did it before?”

He’s covering for me. He’s going to help.

“I’m with you, Pamela,” he says.

“Where are the others?” I ask as I maneuver the cart around a huge pothole and over a rocky patch, the steering wheel vibrating in my hands.

“Don’t panic. Get the vehicle under control, then you can double back.”

Double back? Wait. Is this a trick? Chuck said to trust this guy, and Chuck stuck his neck out for us. But still, double back?

“For the others?” I whisper.