Chapter Three
On the way back to the mansion in both the bus and Frankie?s new car (which Frankie decided to drive herself), news came over the bus?s radio about an attack over a military base in western Qatar without warning?no survivors. The news had been delivered by Secretary of Defense, John Keller, who added that the objective of the attack was an attempt to hack the deepest reaches of the military network, and they weren?t sure what information the attackers were after. No one had claimed responsibility?no group, no Internet site, and no country. The only lead they had was the signal that hacked the network.
Feeling as if all that was irrelevant to them, Sean Andrews shut off the radio, just as they had approached the front gate of the
Foster?s mansion. As soon as everyone was inside, they didn?t hesitate to share Frankie?s new car with all of the friends in the house, going as far as bringing them out of the house to see it. For Frankie, it was a little embarrassing, because she told half of the friends in the house that she was getting a sporty new car. And for them to see an old, rusted vehicle sitting there had to have been a huge letdown.
?Just want to let everybody know that I didn?t intend on getting this.? Frankie announced. ?I was actually on my way to get one of the stylin? Porsches at the most famous car shops in town, but??
?Yeah, yeah, yeah.? A small, green, one-eyed, deep-voiced imaginary friend known as Jackie Khones was standing near the front of the car with a few other imaginary friends as he interrupted Frankie. ?Just pop the hood, would ya? I wanna check out the engine on this thing.?
The hood gave a metallic click and swung up to reveal in the fading daylight not the grease-streaked, grime-choked hunk of half-rusted iron most had expected to see but the gleam of polished chrome, serpentine coils of wire-wrapped nonstock hoses, shining cables, and a full panoply of glistening components that were quite alien to some of the
Foster?s residents.
?Whoa?nice headers!? Jackie exclaimed. ?Check out the compression setup. You have a high-rise double-pump carburetor. This has the makings of a stealth street racer. Impressive.? While Jackie was voicing his admiration for the vehicle, he barely noticed that everyone had been staring at him in utter disbelief. Once he had, he just shrugged his shoulders and said, ?What??
Next to Jackie?s vast knowledge of cars, the fact that her beat-up car had such a remarkable engine with marvelous horsepower surprised the heck out of Frankie. She was starting to realize that there was more than meets the eye with her ?new? car.
Late that night, all through the mansion not a creature was stirring. Out near the front gate, the old but brightly colored Camaro suddenly came to life, its engine rumbling softly. The sound was deep enough and near enough to wake the vehicle?s owner. After blinking one and rubbing her eyes, Frankie dashed out of her room and downstairs to the foyer. She looked through the window, seeing past the front porch to notice her now-beloved new car moving away from the front gate of the mansion. Half asleep and half hysterical, she opened the front door and ran past the porch, yelling at the presumed someone in the car.
?Hey, that?s my car.
Thief!?
She went to the bus, which was parked right behind the moving Camaro, and as she hopped into it, she thanked God this one time that the keys had been accidentally left in the ignition again. Immediately starting up the bus, she gave chase in time to see the Camaro heading south. Pulling her cell phone from inside the right pocket of her robe, she dialed with one hand while steering with the other. The response was gratifyingly fast.
?911 Emergency.?
?My car?s being stolen,? she yelled toward the phone. ?Get me some help!?
?Ma?am, ma?am?we?re trying to trace your call. Are you all right? Ma?am??
?Just send some cops!? She barked at the phone before sliding it, still on, back into her pocket. As she had done so, she barely even noticed that she was passing through Mac?s apartment. From Mac?s bedroom, the roaring of the two engines, both sounding very familiar to him, suddenly wakened him.
Sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes, Mac looked out the window to see the two vehicles blazed past his apartment. The sight had confused him quite a bit. It was so puzzling that he jumped out of bed, slipped out of his pajamas, and put on his regular clothes. Afterwards, he dashed out of his apartment and hopped on the new bike that his mom got for him on his recent birthday, chasing after the bus and the Camaro.
The chase led directly into the junkyard near town, as the Camaro busted the lock on the gates to it. Watching the car carefully, Frankie noticed how it entered the yard and finally slowed down, which she did as well. She parked the bus into the shadows and hopped out, following the car on foot. Disappearing briefly behind a slow-moving train, the Camaro emerged a few moments later. For the first time since the car had awakened her and pulled away from the mansion, Frankie had a good look at the front of it.
There was no one in the driver?s seat.
?Frankie!? A voice shouted from behind her, and she turned to see Mac arriving at the junkyard on his bike, which he stowed carefully out of sight once he was near her. ?What?s going on??
She could barely believe that he was even there. ?Mac! Go back home! This is a dangerous situation. Someone has hijacked my new car!? At least, she thought it had been stolen. It took an actual person to steal a vehicle, and apparently, after what she just saw, there was no carjacker involved here. But if there happened to have been one, it was crucial for Mac to get out when he still had a chance. ?Just let me handle this. If I could handle a jerk like my old boyfriend Dylan, then I can??
She stopped once she noticed the odd look on Mac?s face, as he was looking past her at something. Turning her head, she realized how much worse the situation seemed to have gotten when the car, its outline muddled by distance and darkness, appeared to change its shape and
stand up.
?Oh, man.? Frankie thought aloud.
Huddled behind a crate, she and Mac looked on as the dark, now-vertical silhouette removed something from its torso. Without warning, the object emitted a light as overpowering as it was unexpected, temporarily blinding the two humans. Shielding their eyes, they tried to identify the light source. All they could tell was that it had regular, precise outlines. Some sort of symbol?
Before they could get a better look or analyze it further, it leaped upward and vanished into the night sky.
?F-F-Frankie?? Mac stammered with a look on his face that was just as bizarre as when he was high on sugar?which he thought for a moment was why he was seeing what he was seeing. ?Y-Your car?s?a-alive??
Frankie didn?t have the time to give a remark for Mac?s comment. She fumbled wildly for the cell phone. Though she aimed its built-in camera as carefully as she could, it was just too dark and her ?car? too distant and hidden for her to get a clear shot. That didn?t stop her from babbling urgently into the phone, however.
?M-My name?s Frances ?Frankie? Foster. My car?I thought it was stolen, but it?s
alive. Or at least self-animated, or something, I dunno. I don?t know how, but it?s alive.?
Suddenly, there was a sound. Not in front, but behind them. There was nothing of the mechanical about it. It was a long, low growl, mean and ripe with anticipation. Hearts pounding, Frankie and Mac turned and looked behind them.
There were two of the rottweilers, and each looked big as a bear.
?Oh, man, oh, man!? Frankie cried. ?Run, Mac!?
Long chains unfurled like kite strings from the dogs? heavy leather collars. Fortunately, the chains were bolted to a wall. Fortune, however, was not a companion of Frankie and Mac?s that night. With a snap and a bang, first one restraining bolt and then its companion tore free of the aging concrete.
Frankie and Mac leaped onto a pile of crates. The ascent didn?t stop the dogs, but it did slow them down for a moment. So did the barbed wire fence Frankie and Mac scrambled over, ripping their clothes as they cleared it. The dogs tore through a nearby hole under the fence. One was close enough to snap at one of Mac?s ankles. Teeth caught his pants and not his leg, but it was enough to send him sprawling into the dirt.
?Frankie! Help!?
She nearly tripped over herself as she quickly went to save him, her cell phone flying in the process. Before she could even attempt to do anything for the eight-year-old, the Camaro reappeared, spinning doughnuts around the prone Frankie and Mac and honking furiously. It confronted the startled dogs with mass, light, and complete confusion. One tire ran right over the errant cell phone, reducing it to a handful of crushed circuitry. Whimpering now, the dogs turned tail and fled. Scrambling to their feet, Frankie and Mac desired to follow them. But the car was between them and the distant exit.
Red, blue, and white lights pierced the settling dust as the sound of wailing sirens closed on the yard. The police! Pivoting, Frankie and Mac accelerated in the direction of lights and noise, nearly running up onto the hood of an arriving cruiser. Guns drawn, what seemed in the darkness like a whole company of cops had piled out of the arriving vehicles. They held their weapons steady and ready.
And every one of them was pointed at Frankie and Mac.
?Freeze!? One sergeant commanded them. ?Hands! Up!?
Sliding slowly off the hood of the cruiser, Frankie and Mac both hastened to explain, one talking over the other. ?Not us! No! Wrong people! Her car! My car! It?s??
Turning, they pointed at the Camaro. Or rather, they found themselves pointing at the spot where the Camaro had been idling only a little while ago. It was gone, and with it their rationale. They could think of nothing to say as they were spun around and dumped facedown on the same hood they had only a moment ago embraced as a savior.
?I can?t believe I?m going to jail
again!? Mac exclaimed. ?This is ridiculous, I?m only eight!?
?You wanna hear ridiculous?? Frankie uttered. ?This will be my
first time?I think.?
END OF CHAPTER THREE