Lindsey and the Jedgar

by Elizabeth Wahn

Illustrated by Ivy Steele

Il Labirinto

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Chapter One: Flight of Fantasy

Lindsey O'Neill had never laid eyes on a plane like her great aunt's King Lear jet. It was electric blue, and the interior was furnished like a living room with a plush sofa and matching chairs, a fake fireplace, and a wide-angle movie screen. It's awesome, a flying sitcom set, she thought, I'm one lucky kid.
She hadn't wanted to go - she didn't even know her Great Aunt Marie - but as the engines began to purr with the promise of freedom, she was suddenly glad she was about to visit the old woman. What a way to run away from home!
    Like Goldilocks poking around the three bears' house, she tested each seat before sinking into a leather easy chair. She opened the instrument panel on the armrest, pressed a button to adjust her position, and felt herself gently rising. Another button swiveled her clockwise to face the window. She pushed a button that said "Rolling Massage" and her seat stretched out and began bouncing. When the novelty wore off, she hit "Halt" and settled into place for take-off.
    A movie with the flight instructions came onto the screen, and then like magic she was airborne, looking down on the dwindling California coastline. As the plane cut through the sky, her spirits soared and her fears dissolved. Passing clouds slipped into gauze, and she could hardly believe that she was twenty-six thousand feet in the air heading to the South Seas.
    The pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Everything all right, Lindsey?"
    "Can I go talk to you?" she asked.
    "Homesick already?" he chuckled. "Come on up."
    The cockpit door swung open. Lindsey sat down beside Captain Friedman. The view of the Pacific Ocean was breathtaking, so bright that it hurt her eyes. Pinpoints of light shimmered like electrified sequins forcing her to lower her gaze. A compass indicated that the plane was heading southwest, and she suddenly realized that every mile was taking her closer to Australia, the land of her dreams.
    It had been over a week since her father had left home on an assignment to study wildlife in Australia, and Lindsey had been praying against all odds that she could go too. Now, with a private jet at her disposal, the dream seemed temptingly within reach, almost begging to materialize. Maybe if Australia wasn't too far out of the way, Captain Friedman could drop her off there. She pictured herself joining her dad on his visits to kangaroo habitats, and her imagination went wild.
    Emboldened by hope, she took a deep breath and said, "I'd like to ask a very big favor."
    "Fire away."
    "Could you please take me to Sydney?"
    "Australia! What's the matter? Cold feet? You're not having second thoughts about going to Pensioners' Paradise, are you?"
    "No," she said. But she could have added, "Not anymore." She was ashamed to admit how panicky she'd been feeling, plagued by a zillion doubts, but that was a mind-frame ago.
With little idea what to expect, she had to admit that Pensioners' Paradise was beginning to seem quite promising, and she now looked forward to spending the summer there. Even though "Pensioners" sounded kind of depressing, "Paradise" raised expectations, and her aunt had assured her there'd be other kids vacationing there. Nevertheless, the choice between visiting an elderly aunt in a retirement community or else taking a safari with her dad in Australia had to be a no-brainer.
    "You shouldn't listen to the things people say about Pensioners' Paradise," said the captain.
    "What do they say?"
    "Never you mind about that."
    "Please tell me."
    "Most people haven't heard of the place. We like our privacy. But it's nothing for you to worry about. You should be pretty safe."
    "It's dangerous?" Once again Lindsey felt torn, wondering what she'd gotten herself into.
    "Now don't go getting all worked up over nothing. Why do you want to go to Sydney?"
    "My dad's there," she said. She was positive he'd be happy to see her. Every time he phoned, he'd say he wished she could be with him. Would he be surprised when she suddenly showed up!
Come on, Captain Friedman, please, please, please say "Yes," she thought excitedly.
    "I've got orders to take you to Pensioners' Paradise. Anyway, we don't have enough fuel to get to Australia."
    Lindsey's expression clouded, and she turned her face away.

*

While the King Lear jet streaked across a sparkling blue sky, on the other side of the Pacific, thousands of miles away, night still girded the islands of Pensioner's Paradise. Wide awake, adrift on a sea of troubles, eleven-year-old Ryan Mandher gazed from his bedroom window at an ocean flat and somber as a gravestone.
    Ryan heard noises. He leaned out and saw two figures, his uncle and another man conversing in hushed tones. When they turned their heads in his direction, Ryan caught the word "helpless" or maybe it was "hopeless." Were they talking about him? As their voices faded, he cast his eyes across the waters to a distant volcano and felt utterly alone.

*

Lindsey inspected the flight panel, dozens of blinking lights and needles swinging back and forth on miniature graph boards. To each side, the walls were plastered with pictures. Colorful snapshots of birds-doves, eagles, vultures, hawks, ravens, mockingbirds, and ostriches-were mounted on every spare inch of space. She spotted a framed photo of Captain Friedman sitting in the pilot's seat with a rooster on his lap. It was autographed "Sam Friedman and his best friend in the cockpit."
    "Now you know why we call it a cockpit," he chortled. "Finest navigator I ever had."
    Very funny, she thought moodily. Directly beneath them an ocean liner looked no larger than a hazelnut pasted on a mat. Only the two parallel white strings in its wake gave a sense of motion.
    "So, you'll be staying with your great aunt?" asked the captain.
    "What's she like?" Churning things over in her mind, Lindsey was beginning to worry that something might be wrong with the old woman.
    "You've never met her?"
    She shook her head. She wished she'd asked her dad more questions. But then, he always thought the best of everybody, even his yucky girlfriends.
    "Pillar of the community. A bit dotty about politics," said Captain Friedman.
    "She's dying?"
    He tossed her a surprised look. "Good grief, no. She's still quite young."
    Lindsey breathed a sigh of relief. "How old is she?"
    "Early seventies, I'd guess."
    "That isn't young."
    "It is on Pensioners' Paradise. How old do you think I am?"
    She looked him over. His face was tanned but not particularly wrinkled. He had a full head of hair graying at the temples. Under his short-sleeved uniform, his arms were lean and muscular.
    "Dunno."
    "Come on, guess."
    She hated it when adults put her on the spot.
    "Maybe thirty-five?"
    Captain Friedman laughed merrily. "I'm eighty-nine."
    "Eighty-nine years old?"
    Whoa! He couldn't be serious? Nobody that old would be allowed to fly a plane-and with no co-pilot? What if he had a heart attack or something? Lindsey had learned some CPR at Girl Scouts, but she doubted she could save a full-grown man, and she certainly couldn't fly the plane. She looked out at the ocean. It was a very long way down.
    "How old do people get?"
    "The last time I checked, the life expectancy was around a hundred and thirty-five, but it's rising every year."
    "You mean some of them are actually a hundred and thirty-five years old?" She gave him a long, hard look, and he nodded complacently.
    "Most are younger. Some older. The oldest person there is Juanita Shringapur. She won't admit it, but she's a hundred and fifty-three. Still a good-looking gal even though she's past her prime."
Lindsey mulled it over and came to the conclusion that he was teasing her - like her sixth grade teacher who used to think he was so clever, always telling tall stories with a deadpan look on his face. In her opinion practical jokers were pretty dumb, but with nobody else to talk to she might as well play along.
    "Why do they live so long?"
    "It's the water. Montezuma's Miracle Mineral water, we call it. It springs from wells deep under the earth's surface. Does wonders. It can make you feel a bit lightheaded, so some people like your aunt prefer to boil it. She's the serious type. Wants to 'age gracefully,' says she."
    "What happens if I drink it? I turn into a two-year-old or something?"
    "Forgot to pack your diapers?" He broke into a toothy grin. "Not to worry. All it does is spry up your body cells. Keeps you right healthy. Ever hear of the Hayflick Limit?"
    "No."
    "It determines life expectancy. It's programmed into your genes just like hair color and all that. You can live on and on if you get around the Hayflick Limit. Montezuma water does that."
Lindsey was far from convinced. She tried to piece together the short conversations she'd had with her aunt - not a whole lot to go on.
    "If she isn't dying, how come she said it might be my last chance to visit her?"
    "How old are you?"
    "Twelve."
    "Well, nobody over twelve or under seventy is allowed on the islands."
    "Really? There's lots of kids my age?"
    "Maybe a couple of dozen summer visitors, but most of them won't be on Elsinore."
    "What's Elsinore?"
    "The capital. Largest island in the archipelago. That's where you're heading."
    Tired of playing games, she dismissed most of his chatter, rubbed her eyes, and yawned.
    "Why not get yourself a little shut-eye?" he said. "We've got a long trip ahead."
    "You're doing it all yourself? No co-pilot?"
    "In the closet booting up for the cruise." He indicated a door behind him. "During the cruise, I snooze."
    Sure, she thought, he's a riot - like that wise crack about the rooster in the cockpit. He probably expects me to open the door so he can laugh his head off. She was curious to take a peek, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.
    "If you want a movie, Alfred Hitchcock's classic "The Birds" is on channel one. My favorite. Thought you might enjoy it. The others are listed alphabetically on the remote. And help yourself to anything you want to eat. Food's in the fridge. Sofa bed's made up, and you'll find pillows in the linen closet, the one with a bluebird painted on the door. I'll call you an hour or so before we land."
    "Goodnight, Captain Friedman," she said even though sunshine was pouring through the window like an omen.
    "Nighty-night," he said, shutting the door behind her.

*

Ryan Mandher hated to admit he was scared, but he was. He suspected that he was the only kid left on the island of Elsinore, and he had to find out what happened to the others.
    Shortly before daybreak, he stole out of bed and tiptoed past his uncle's bedroom, down the staircase, and into the yard, cursing himself for ever having come. For the hundredth time, he asked himself why his uncle had wanted him to visit. The old guy seemed to hate him.
    Behind the garage, Ryan found his bike lying in the shrubbery where he'd hidden it. He pulled it out and pedaled as fast as he could along the deserted streets. When he reached the airport, he looked around furtively and saw nobody.
    Everything was eerily still. The planes, dark and watchful as crows, seemed to stare at him as he picked his way through the shadows to the in-and-out hatch. Finding the door unlocked, he slipped inside and opened the visitors' register. Through the window he spotted the immigration officer strolling down the runway toward him. He'd better hurry before she caught him snooping into her records.
    Ryan's fingers trembled as he thumbed through the pages. In the section marked "July," he found his name in the middle of the list. The names above his had been crossed out with a thin black line - four boys, the ones he'd met the morning he'd arrived. Since then all four boys had disappeared.
    Running his eyes down the page, he discovered the freshly-inked names of four newcomers scheduled to arrive. Much as he needed their help, he half wished he could warn them not to come. But there was nothing he could do, not now. He quickly memorized the names of two boys from Washington, D.C., a girl from New Orleans, and a girl from San Diego, California. With a shiver, he noticed that the girl from California had a question mark by her name.