The Call (The Magnificent 12 1)

Ayers Rock being Uluru. Same place, different name.

“If we hang out here, we’ll be spotted,” Mack said, shielding his face with his hand as if he were in bright sunlight. (He wasn’t; he was in an airport,

remember?)

“There’s no other way,” Jarrah said.

“Unless we got a private jet,” Mack said.

Jarrah’s father made a dismissive sound. “Those don’t come cheap.”

Mack pulled out his credit card with a flourish. “I got it covered.”

The private jet was extremely cool. Tall leather seats that reclined all the way back. Thick carpeting. An excellent choice of movies. And a small buffet laid out with cheese, crackers, shrimp, some kind of pinkish dip, and sodas.

They left Jarrah’s father at the airport and took off for Uluru.

Mack had intended to keep his eyes peeled for Risky’s creepy flying machine. But it had been a very long and sleepless night. He was more tired than he would have believed possible. Falling from an airplane and landing in the ocean will take a lot out of you.

He woke when the plane started to descend toward a very basic-looking airport. Barely an airport, really. Just a single paved strip and two low-slung buildings surrounded by a vast red emptiness.

It was as if someone had taken a billion red bricks, ground them to dust, and then spread them over a million square miles. There were trees, but they were widely spaced. And just a single road.

It struck Mack that he was very, very far away from home. He’d never been this far from home. He’d stayed with his grandparents in Michigan once for about three days while his parents went off doing…well, whatever it was parents did when they ditched their kids.

He supposed they would miss him. If they even noticed he was gone. The golem wasn’t exactly a perfect copy, but it would probably be good enough to fool his parents.

“I think I’m homesick,” Mack said.

“Of course you are; who wouldn’t be?” Jarrah said.

“I wouldn’t be,” Stefan said. He yawned. “It’s good to get out of the house.”

“It’s not like we’re going to the park to play Frisbee,” Mack grumped.

Stefan laughed. “Yeah, this is way better.”

It occurred to Mack that maybe Stefan’s home life wasn’t everything it could be.

“Looks desolate, doesn’t it?” Jarrah said. She was friendly at least. That was good. If Mack was going to save the world from some evil villain with a very beautiful but crazy-bad daughter, it would be best to have pleasant people along with him.

“It looks a little like home,” Mack said. “I’m a desert rat myself. Arizona.”

“Ha,” Jarrah said. “Your desert’s all full of roads and cities. Civilized, like. The Outback’s a bit different. Emptiest place on earth, you know. Millions of square miles of nothing much.” She glanced over at Stefan. “You two been friends for long, then?”

“Actually, Stefan was my bully. But we’ve moved on.”

Stefan jerked a thumb at Mack. “He saved my life.”

This seemed to impress Jarrah, who gave Mack a long, appraising look as the plane spiraled down toward the tiny airport.

“You don’t look so much like a great hero,” Jarrah said.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not,” Mack said wearily. “My throat is hoarse from screaming in terror. I don’t think heroes have that problem.”

The plane landed without incident. Waiting outside the terminal was a tall, very thin woman with springy black hair and very dark skin.

“Mack, my mum. Mum, Mack. And this is Stefan. Mack’s bodyguard.” Her Australian accent turned bodyguard into bodygaad.