Wendy’s sodden hair hung limply from beneath the towel wrapped around her head. Frank sat down next to her. She didn’t look at him.
“How you doin’, little girl?”
“I’m fine, Daddy.” Now she turned to him, her expression twisted. “And I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Sorry.” He smiled, uncomfortable. “I keep forgetting.”
She sounded bored and tired. “And don’t tell me I’ll ‘always be your little girl,’ either. I’m an adult now.”
“Of course you are.”
They sat silently, Frank trying to think of something to say and not wanting to commit another paternal faux pas, his daughter obviously uneasy and tense.
It started with a sniffle, which became a sob, which degenerated into tears. She sat on the edge of the bed crying and hugging herself, and she didn’t object when Frank moved close enough to put an arm around her and pull her gently down against his shoulder.
“I’m scared, Daddy. I want to go home.”
“I know, I know.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We all want to go home. But we’ve kind of got a tiger by the tail and we can’t let go yet. Actually, it’s a Mouse.”
She inhaled and managed to smile at that, and it was easy for him to smile back.
Steven turned from the glass, looking on uncomfortably. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll take care of you.”
One long, last sniffle preceded her reply, which was raspy but full of familiar filial sarcasm. “Oh, that’s great, that’s wonderful! We can all relax now. Steven Mark Sonderberg is on the job!”
The boy shrugged, turned away. “Hey, if you don’t care…”
“No fighting. Not now,” Frank warned them. “And you watch your mouth, litt—Wendy. We’re all having a tough time.”
“Dad?” Steven continued staring out the back window as he spoke. There was no ten-year-old bravado in his voice now. “We are gonna get home, aren’t we?” He sounded very small and alone.
“Of course we are. We’re just”—he hesitated—“taking a little detour, that’s all.”
“Yeah, right. A detour.” The boy brightened at the thought. “Dad, you shoulda seen some of the uglies that were holding us prisoner. They were gross. And that big guy, he was the ugliest one of all. He was bigger even than Andre the Giant!” Frank knew who his son was talking about because it behooved him, as the owner of a chain of sporting goods stores, to know a lot about activities he really cared nothing about. “How’d you make that bomb, huh? I bet Mr. Begay made it, didn’t he?”
“We both worked it out,” Frank replied, slightly miffed.
It went right by his son. “Burnfingers sure knows a lot of stuff, doesn’t he? I wonder if he’s really from Arizona?”
“I don’t know, either, but unless we find out otherwise we have to take him at his word.”
“Sure, I guess so.” When Steven turned back to the glass, Frank glanced down at his daughter.
“You gonna be all right now?”
She nodded, forced a smile as she wiped at her eyes. “I think so.”
“Okay, then.” He rose. “I’ve gotta get back up front and see what’s going on.” He started out.
“Hey!” At the shout he paused to look back at her. “Don’t forget you owe me a new stereo.”
“Don’t worry.” He grinned. “Soon as we’re back in L.A. we’ll go pick out whatever you want.”
“I’m not going to let you forget,” she warned him.
“That’s good.” He didn’t know if she was feeling better when he left the bedroom, but he certainly was.
Flucca was still driving. “I can take over now if you like,” he told the little man.
“Actually,” the dwarf told him reluctantly, “much as I’m enjoying this, I am getting tired.” He shook his left leg. “The cruise control’s no good at these speeds and these straps are starting to bite.”
Alicia was seated across from him. “Do you need any help getting down?”
“Not only do I not need any help getting down,” he told her with a wink, “I never need any help getting up.”
Frank stared through the windshield into the night. “You sure it’s okay to stop here?”
“You bet.” Flucca let the motor home coast to a halt. “I know the whole damn city. Nobody comes here. We’re near the old industrial district. Locals think there are still hot spots out this way, but there ain’t. I used to know a real old guy who had, what do you call it?” His face screwed up in concentration. “A dagger counter?”
“Geiger counter?” said Alicia helpfully.
“No. Something similar, though. He told me this part of town’s been cold for years. But superstition keeps the locals away.” He removed both makeshift stilts and tossed them aside, then slid down off the pile of cushions.
Frank cleared the driver’s seat and settled behind the wheel. In spite of all the heavy driving he’d done lately it still felt good to be back in control again. He readjusted the position of the chair.
And realized he didn’t have the foggiest notion which way to go. This was Salt Lake City, which he’d never visited, on another reality line, which he’d also very definitely never visited.
“Which way’s your Vanishing Point?” he asked Mouse.
“Off this reality,” she told him. “I wouldn’t have come this way at all if your family hadn’t been brought here.”
“Then how do we get back on the right line?”
“You know, I was a cook.” Flucca ignored the threatening surroundings. “Best damn cook in Las Cruces, New Mexico.”
“Really?” said Alicia. “I’m something of an amateur chef myself. Maybe you and I could do some cooking together.” She eyed the now fuelless stove and sighed. “When we get home.”
“I’d enjoy that a lot.” Flucca sounded wistful. “I miss working with real pots and pans.”
“I know a few people in the restaurant business. When we get back I’ll help you find an opening. If you’re as good as you say you are, that is.”
“Better. All I want to drive again are the controls of a gas range.”
“It is good to have goals.” Burnfingers Begay’s eyes scanned the darkness. “However, we should concentrate on the immediate ones for now. Let us begin by leaving behind this city of the dead. Any suggestions?”
Standing on tiptoes, Flucca pointed to his left. “If we go past the pit, I don’t think anyone will try to follow us. The highway out that direction’s still pretty intact.” Frank glanced at Mouse, who nodded her approval.
“It feels right. Or at least, it does not feel wrong.”
