“I need to call mom,” Evan said after a few minutes of silence.
“Okay. The code is 992-996, and then wait for the dial tone,” Creed called to Evan who was seated next to his sister again.
“Thanks.” Evan picked up the phone and dialed as instructed. It only rang once before he heard his mother’s familiar voice.
“Hey, mom. It’s Evan.”
“Evan, is everything okay?”
“We’re fine mom. We’re on schedule to arrive at nineteen-hundred hours.” Evan and Alik had decided not to worry their mother about the low fuel issue, so they hadn’t told her. There’s nothing she could do about it and they had already made up their minds to turn back anyway. She had enough to worry about as it was.
“Meggie? How are her stats?”
“Stable, thankfully. She’s been stable the entire flight.”
“Listen, Ev. It’s malaria. Not any of the normal species of parasite, but Paulie’s sure it’s malaria. He thinks Williams tipped the dart with some super mutant species he created. We’re trying to figure out if any of the known treatments will work on this strain.”
“Mutant Malaria? Doesn’t this man have a life outside of his evil science? What’s next? A new plague? Mind-controlled gorillas? Flesh-eating tomatoes?”
“Evan, calm down.” Margo had to remind herself sometimes that he was just a thirteen-year-old boy, however intelligent. And sometimes he was going to have age-appropriate reactions under extreme stress.
She heard him take a deep breath and exhale.
“Better?” she asked.
“I guess I have to be,” he resigned.
“How’s Creed? Can you tell if we have his allegiance or is he still on the fence?
“No, he’s a good guy now. He threw his lot in with us the minute he told the pilots to turn the plane around. There’s no turning back for him now.”
“Good. I thought that’s what happened, but I wouldn’t have put it past you and Alik to have duct taped the boy to the wall if he tried to stop you from bringing Meg home,” Margo only half teased.
“Duct tape probably wouldn’t have held this guy, mom. He’s incredibly strong. Let’s just say I’m glad he’s on our side now.” Evan looked over at Creed and smiled into the phone. “Williams is going to be livid when he finds out.”
“Speaking of Williams, how do you guys plan to get back into the house safely? That female meta is still outside waiting for a target, right?”
“Yeah, that’s really the reason I called. I need you to make us one heck of a smoke screen.”
“Excellent idea.”
“Yeah, I was thinking you could make the kind out of instant cold packs and newspapers. Remember when we did that back at the ranch?”
Chuckling Margo said, “Oh, yes. I remember that mess! The breeze blew all the smoke right into the house!”
“Yeah, those were some good times.” Evan was grinning widely.
“We’re going to have to time it perfectly,” Margo said.
“Make as many as you can, mom. Smoke grenades may come in handy later, too.”
“Will do. I’ll get Theo and Cole to help me.”
“Okay, I’ll call in thirty minutes to check in. I love you, mom.”
“I love you, more, Evan.”
Click.
Evan didn’t hang up the phone right away. Instead he held it to his forehead, thinking. He was trying to remember everything he ever read about malaria.
“That’s the plan?” Creed asked. “Smoke bombs?”
“Sometimes the simplest tactic is the best.” Evan looked up, and shrugged at Creed.
“Ever heard of K.I.S.S.?” Alik interjected. He had been drawing a schematic of Paulie’s house from memory and didn’t look to have been listening to the conversations going on around him.
“Kiss?” Creed blushed as his eyes darted involuntarily toward Meg.
“No, not ‘kiss,’—K.I.S.S. It’s an acronym for Keep It Simple, Stupid.” Alik smiled widely at Creed before returning to his drawing.
“Oh, right. K.I.S.S.” Creed murmured as though he knew it all along.
“Sometimes the more elaborate the plan, the more room for errors. See what I mean?” Evan said.
“Yeah, that’s a military tactical maneuver we were taught at the Facility. One of many. It just wasn’t called that,” Creed thought back to his life on the campus and shook the memory from his head.
“How do you know about ammonium nitrate bombs? That’s not exactly common knowledge to American kids, is it?” Creed asked.
“Not much about our childhoods could be considered ‘common.’ Mom taught us how to make different bombs when we were little kids,” Alik answered. Evan was still listening to the conversation, but had stepped over to the gurney and was retrieving a new bag of I.V. fluids for his sister.
“How did she know about bombs?”