Movieland

Chapter 20

I woke up fully clothed and sprawled on the opposite end of my bed. Thunder cracked outside the window. I rolled off a pool of drool and caught the bedpost with my cast hand. The pain hit like a hammer. I dropped onto a pile of dirty clothes.

My phone rang faintly. I dug underneath me.

"Hello."

"Paging Max Magee. Paging Max Magee. There's a telephone call for you at the front desk."

"JP, my head feels like Rocky after Drago pummeled him."

I put him on speakerphone and ground my palms into my eyes. Rain hit the window like a war drum cadence.

"We already did the heavy lifting. I'll be there in thirty."

I sat up. "What time is it?"

"5:30. In the AM. No rest for the wicked. Over and out."

A poster of Mel Gibson in Mad Max stared at me. He faced the camera and walked down a deserted highway with his hand reaching for his holstered pistol. A dog walked by his side.

Dad bought it for me as I headed into Freshman year. "It's going to get harder before it gets easier," he said, hanging it on the wall. "This Max knew that. Now you do, too."

I rushed through a hot shower and rehearsed a quick speech. My hair was still wet when I ran through the rain into JP's car. Carolina sat shotgun. I hopped into the backseat. She handed me a granola bar and a bottle of water.

"Eat up. I don't know how long we're going to be in there. There's more where this came from." She patted her backpack.

I ate it and took another one. "As long as it takes. You have the tarp? Antennae?"

"Check and check," JP said, steering through sheets of rain. Early morning was dark and the storm darker. "Walkies. All set. How's that hand?"

I flexed it. "Still a bit stiff. You sure we need all this stuff? Quick in and out. Right?"

"We could be in there for months for all you know," she said.

Our wardrobes were designed to blend in. We all wore jeans. Carolina wore a thin green hoodie. JP had a blue long-sleeved shirt. I considered a red puffy vest but didn't own one and didn't want to risk jokes about life preservers. I went with a light brown jacket over a t shirt.

We curved around the tree canopied entrance to the lab. Once inside the tunnel of darkness, the rain stopped, and we all breathed deeply. JP drummed lightly on the steering wheel. This was happening. One way or another, Frankie was coming home. Hopefully.

We exited the tree tunnel and stopped at the security gate.

"Just let me talk," I said.

I rolled down the window. The security guard was face down on his desk next to a box of Sour Patch Kids. Gremlins played on the small TV on his desk.

"Be careful," JP said.

I mimed zipping my lip and slipped out of the car. The gate button hung on the wall inside the office. The guard's arm sprawled underneath the button like a pack of sleeping piranhas. If anyone woke him from his slumber it'd be the intensifying rain, not my arm stretching through the window. I clenched my teeth and held my breath and watched Gizmo bat his eyes.

I snickered.

The guard opened his eyes. They stared at me blankly. He was asleep. The lids slowly closed.

I waited a beat and pushed the button. The gate lifted. I hopped back into the car.

"Guy breaks his wrist twice and thinks he's a hero," JP said.