Was it really the steady, relentless footfall of hundreds of soldiers? Marching on my street in perfect unison?
My street wasn"t close enough to the center of town to be on any holiday parade routes, much less to have armed men in combat fatigues coursing down it in the dead of night.
I shook my head and bounced up and down a few times kind of like I do in my warm-ups. Wake up, Whit. Wake up, Whit. I slapped myself a couple of times for good measure. And then I looked again. I slapped myself a couple of times for good measure. And then I looked again.
There they were. Soldiers marching down our street. Hundreds of them as clear as day, made visible by a half-dozen truck-mounted spotlights. Hundreds of them as clear as day, made visible by a half-dozen truck-mounted spotlights.
Just one thought was running laps inside my head: This can"t be happening. This can"t be happening. This can"t be happening. This can"t be happening. This can"t be happening. This can"t be happening.
Then I remembered the elections, the new government, the ravings of my parents about the trouble the country was in, the special broadcasts on TV, the political pet.i.tions my cla.s.smates were circulating online, the heated debates between teachers at school. None of it meant anything to me until that second.
And before I could piece it all together, the vanguard of the formation stopped in front of my house.
Almost faster than I could comprehend, two armed squads detached themselves from the phalanx and sprinted across the lawn like commandos, one running around the back of the house, the other taking position in front.
I jumped back from the window. I could tell they weren"t here to protect me and my family. I had to warn Mom, Dad, Wisty - But just as I started to yell, the front door was knocked off its hinges.
Two.
WISTY.
IT"S QUITE HIDEOUS to get kidnapped in the dead of night, right inside your own home. It went something like this.
I awoke to the chaotic crashing of overturning furniture, quickly followed by the sounds of shattering gla.s.s, possibly some of Mom"s china.
Oh, G.o.d,Whit, I thought, shaking my head sleepily. My older brother had grown four inches and gained thirty pounds of muscle in the past year. Which made him the biggest and fastest quarterback around, and, I must say, the most intimidating player on our regional high school"s undefeated football team. I thought, shaking my head sleepily. My older brother had grown four inches and gained thirty pounds of muscle in the past year. Which made him the biggest and fastest quarterback around, and, I must say, the most intimidating player on our regional high school"s undefeated football team.
Off the playing field, though, Whit could be about as clumsy as your average bear-if your average bear were hopped-up on a case of Red Bull and full of himself because he could bench-press 275 and every girl in school thought he was the hunk of all hunks.
I rolled over and pulled my pillow around my head. Even before the drinking started, Whit couldn"t walk through our house without knocking something over. Total bull-in-the-china-shop syndrome.
But that wasn"t the real problem tonight, I knew.
Because three months ago, his girlfriend, Celia, had literally vanished vanished without a trace. And by now everyone was thinking she probably would never come back. Her parents were totally messed up about it, and so was Whit. To be honest, so was I. Celia was- without a trace. And by now everyone was thinking she probably would never come back. Her parents were totally messed up about it, and so was Whit. To be honest, so was I. Celia was-is-very pretty, smart, not conceited at all. She"s this totally cool girl, even though she has money. Celia"s father owns the luxury car dealership in town, and her mom is a former beauty queen. I couldn"t believe something like that would happen to someone like Celia.
I heard my parents" bedroom door open and snuggled back down into my cozy, flannel-sheeted bed.
Next came Dad"s booming voice, and he was as angry as I"ve ever heard him.
"This can"t be happening! You have no right to be here. Leave our house now! now!"
I bolted upright, wide awake. Next came more crashing sounds, and I thought I heard someone moan in pain. Had Whit fallen and cracked his head? Had my dad been hurt?
Jeez, Louise, I thought, scrambling out of bed. "I"m coming, Dad! Are you all right? Dad?" I thought, scrambling out of bed. "I"m coming, Dad! Are you all right? Dad?"
And then the nightmare to start a lifetime of nightmares truly began.
I gasped as my bedroom door crashed open. Two hulking men in dark gray uniforms burst into my room, glaring at me as if I were a fugitive terrorist cell operative.
"It"s her! Wisteria Allgood!" one said, and a light bright enough to illuminate an airplane hangar obliterated the darkness.
I tried to shield my eyes as my heart kicked into overdrive. "Who are you?! you?!" I asked. "What are you doing in my freaking bedroom?" my freaking bedroom?"
Witch & Wizard.
In stores December 2009.
About the Authors
JAMES PATTERSON is the author of the highly praised Maximum Ride novels and of bestselling detective series featuring Alex Cross and the Women"s Murder Club. His novels have sold more than 170 million copies worldwide. He lives in Florida.
NED RUST lives in Croton, New York, with his family. His writing has appeared in Rolling Stone Rolling Stone and McSweeney"s Internet Tendency. and McSweeney"s Internet Tendency.