They made it back to camp a few hours later, but it was more than a week before they got to go home. When they arrived back in town, Brent demanded that they go to a hospital and get checked out, even though Maggie insisted that she was fine and had never actually felt better.
It turned out that going to the hospital was a mistake. The doctors there had lots of questions. Once they started answering them, they never stopped coming up with more. Maggie said very little about their rock-throwing contest, or how they had been able to hike through the desert for hours without getting tired. The two of them had agreed that whatever had happened to them, however they had changed, they should probably keep it to themselves as much as possible.
Soon enough reporters started coming around, well-dressed, very nice people who wrote down everything the two kids said. After that a man in a dark blue suit arrived. He sent the reporters away. His name was Special Agent Weathers, he told them, and he was with the government.
"Can I see some ID?" Maggie asked.
Weathers frowned, but then he took an FBI badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. Brent had never seen one before and asked if he could take a look, too.
Weathers had a lot of questions, and they were very similar to the questions the kids had already answered. "Where exactly was this cylinder located? Could you find it again if we took you out there, or at least show me its location on a map? Did you hear, see, or feel anything unusual when you were inside? Please tell me again, exactly how your father died. Please tell me one more time. I just want to be clear, exactly how it happened, exactly how your father died."
He asked that one so many times even Brent looked like he couldn't stand it.
"That's enough," Maggie said, finally. "You're going to make my little brother cry."
"No he won't!" Brent said.
"Alright, never mind. I think I understand, anyway," Weathers said. "I have a team of scientists out there right now looking for this place. When they find it we'll try to recover your father's body. Then you can have a funeral and this will all be over."
"No it won't," Maggie said. "I know exactly how this works. You're going to watch us from now on. You're going to have people watch us for the rest of our lives. God, I hate this."
"Mags, take it easy," Brent said. "He's trying to help."
"Help? By asking the same question over and over, like he's waiting for us to catch ourselves in a lie? We didn't do anything wrong!"
"No one said you had," the FBI man told her. He looked like he was afraid she was going to get violent. "Just take it easy. We're not in the habit of watching American citizens twenty-four seven like that, that's just something from the movies - "
Maggie grabbed the arms of her chair. She didn't trust this guy - hadn't, from the first second she saw him. Brent had, of course. Brent trusted everyone.
"You think," she said, very slowly, "that we're making this all up. You think we killed him and we invented this story to cover it up. Don't you?"
Brent stared at her as if she'd gone crazy.
Weathers, however, just settled back in his chair and wove his fingers together. "In a case like this," he said, "it's our official policy to investigate the last person who saw the deceased alive. It's just routine. Whatever I may or may not think is immaterial."
"We loved him," Brent said, very loud. "We would never - "
There was a loud splintery snap as the arms of Maggie's chair snapped off in her hands. She hadn't realized she'd been squeezing them so hard. She held up the two pieces of wood and stared at them.
Weathers reached up and loosened his tie. Then he pointed at the pieces of wood Maggie was holding in her hands. "Do you want to talk to me about that?"
"No," Maggie said. "I want you to leave."
The agent stood up slowly from his chair. He was kind of fat and he grunted every time he stood up or sat down. The top of his head was shiny where he was going bald. These things made Maggie strangely happy. They made her want to grin wickedly and laugh.
But then he spoke again and her blood ran cold.
"I know you came back from that desert... changed," he said. "The doctors saw some things. Well. They saw you doing some things that children like you should not be capable of. Do you understand me?"
Maggie bit her lip. She didn't look at him, but she nodded.
"If this is real, if you have... new powers. That's going to need to be handled very carefully. I'd like you to not talk to the media about this. Alright? At least not until we know what we're up against."
"I really want you to leave," Maggie said, but he ignored her.
"We're going to need to do some tests," he said instead. "Now would be the best time, actually, while you're still in the hospital. I'd like to do some stress tests, maybe put you two on treadmills and see what your endurance is like. If you - "
Someone had come up to stand in the doorway. It was a little old lady, no more than four and a half feet tall, with silver hair parted severely on one side and thick glasses over her eyes. "The young lady told you to go," she said.
"Hi, Grandma," Brent said weakly.
Grandma scared Brent. There was a good reason for that. Maggie knew she wouldn't scare Weathers. At least not yet. He didn't know her secret.
"Hello, ma'am," the agent said. "You must be Mrs. Reynolds, the children's guardian, is that correct?"
"I'm seventy-one years old, young man, and it seems I have better hearing than you do. Get out. Now. Or I'll call the police."
Weathers tried to smile. "Ma'am, I am a law enforcement officer."
"Then I'll call your boss and tell him you were harassing a senior citizen and a tax-payer of over fifty years. I would imagine they frown on that sort of thing where you come from, hmm?"
Weathers' smile disappeared. "Very well," he said. He glanced over at Maggie. "We'll talk again. Count on it. But for now, just try to keep a low profile, okay?" Then he left.
"Good, he's gone." Grandma came hobbling over toward the two kids on her cane. "I imagine you two are surprised to see me here. I was very surprised when they told me I was now your official next of kin. I've come to take you home. I'll be moving in with you since you don't have anyone else to look after you."
Maggie nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "But, honestly, we can probably look after ourselves. I mean, I know how much you enjoy your time in Florida - "
Grandma came closer and reached down to put a hand over Maggie's. "Margaret Reynolds Gill, your eighteenth birthday isn't until next July. When that day comes, I give you my full permission to tell me to go to hell. Until then, you will do as I say. You will do exactly as I say. And if you try to argue with what I say, I will give you the back of this hand across your cheek. You'll notice I'm wearing my diamond engagement ring, the one your mother's father gave me forty-nine years ago. I put it on today extra special because I knew I was coming to see you." Grandma turned her head to the side. "Hello, Brent, dear," she said.
"Um, hi," Maggie's brother managed.
