by Alexa Dare
“Sit back, take a swallow water, and listen.”
Brody squirmed. The uneasy roll in his belly barged into his upper chest. “Don’t do this, Yates.”
The rugged broad-shouldered man got a metal folding chair from against the wall. A kick of his boot spread the front from the rear legs. Chair legs banged as Yates turned it, back toward front. He straddled the seat and propped his lower arms across the back. With his mouth wide and serpentlike, he grinned.
Fear cramped low in Brody’s gut. Even with the electronics and the computers turned off, stifling warmth hung like asphalt fumes in the cabin. Sweat beaded on Brody’s upper lip.
“The military has meddled in our region long enough.”
“You’re going to kidnap kids who’ve already suffered kidnap and trauma, then use them against the group that intends to make them into weapons?” Brody crossed his eyes and stared upward. The ceiling fan blades doubled and blurred in his vision. “Something’s mega wrong about this.”
“You and your brother are two of the chosen. There’s no going back for either of you.”
“The chosen?” His heart banged his ribcage like a sparrow caught in barn rafters. “No wonder Cantrell’s theory chases got out of hand. You’re tossing out conspiracy plots like clover blossoms to a bee.”
“We’ve done our best to utilize your brother’s passion for intrigue. As well as to keep him safe. That’s why he’s kept isolated at the cabin.”
“Not because he’s sick?”
“He’s shut away.” Yates let loose a massive sigh. “We thought he had a contagious disease, but...”
A hit between the eyes couldn’t knock Brody more off balance. “What are you saying?” Had that been part of the plan to distract Brody and the others as well? “Does he have a virus or a plague or not?”
Blankness shrouded Yates’s face.
A knock rattled the door.
“Watch yourself,” Yates ground out.
Once unlocked, the heavy wooden door swung inward. Old Doc Halverson, dressed in a red and black checked shirt and denim overalls, entered the cabin. Like dried wrinkled leather, Doc’s eyelids closed turtle slow. “Seems you fellows have quite a mess here.”
“Doc, you know Brody Thackett. He’s asked you here to check on his brother.” Yates took a roll of paper towels from the tiny offset kitchen and mopped at the slime on the floor.
Doc never aged. Same silver-haired comb-over, chin waddle, and wobbly jowls just like when Brody and Cantrell were kids.
“What’s going on here?” Doc removed the orange hunting cap he wore year-round after he retired. He smacked the folded hat against the outer thigh of his overalls.
Brody tilted his head so Yates and the gross smears stayed out of his line of sight. “Doc, you’ve got to help Cantrell. I thought he caught whatever killed the old couple up on Carver Road, but maybe he’s got the pox. Either way, you can help him, right?”
Doc cast a look at Yates, and Yates’s laser-blues met Doc’s tired, kind gaze. Doc crammed his cap into one of his hip pockets. “Give us a few moments, Yates.”
“Whatever you say, Doc.” Yates marched onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him.
Before the door shut, Brody inhaled to capture as much outside as possible to get him past the rancid stink that fumed and filled the room.
Doc Halverson eyed the closed door for several moments. He groped his overalls bib-pockets. “We’ve known each other a heck of long time, haven’t we, young man?”
“Doc, we have, and that’s why I’m glad you came. We need your help.” Brody gripped the chair bottom beneath his upper thighs. “I mean, I’ve been dragged all over these woods. Abducted. Rescued. Rained on, Frozen and scorched at the same time. Turned over to the bad guys. Took inside Briar Patch Mountain. Suffered damage to my heart. Several times. I was attacked by a tornado. Cut by a piece of tin deep on my foot. Shot in the shoulder and—”
“Hold on, son.” Doc pulled out a lime green sucker-type lollipop on a short white stick. He fiddled with the clear wrapper and popped the sucker in his mouth. With a tuck of the crinkly wrapping in another pocket, he pulled out an orange one and offered it to Brody.
Stomach uneasy, Brody shook his head.
Sadly, the candy went back into the man’s overall pocket.
“You don’t understand. I don’t know how much more I can take. My chest hurts. A lot. The back of my neck itches, and I may have the pox. On top of all of that, Yates tried to feed me vomit. You were there when we were born. You’ve been our doctor all these years after we went to live with Uncle Merv. You gotta help us.”
Doc turned Yates’s chair around, sat, and from around the spread of his mid-section tapped the tips of his fingers on his legs just above his knees, delivering a swish of decades-old aftershave.
“Please, Doc. You’ve known us all our lives. First Yates acted as if they quarantined Cantrell because of some sort of sickness or infection. Then he said my brother might not really be sick. If you could get them to let me see him—”
“In half a shake of a cow’s tail. First off, what was that you said about your possibly having the pox?”
“I’m, uh, upset.” His cheeks heated. “I’m not making sense.”
“Brody Thackett, you never could lie yourself out of a paper bag. Where’s the breakout?”
“No worries.” He lifted his shoulders and ducked his chin.
“Do I need to get that Yates fellow back in here?” Doc crunched. Sweet lime overlaid the puke smell.
An impenetrable swallow wedged in Brody’s throat. Brody’s belly cramped low. “No more Yates, for right now. The itch is on the upper part of my back, sort of between my shoulder blades and up on my neck.”
“Off with your shirt.” Doc pulled a pair of latex gloves from his back overall’s pocket.
Brody tugged the rough military cotton over his head and propped his forehead on the wadded green shirt in his hands. “Doc, I’m too young to die.”
“No matter a body’s age, boy, death tends to show up at an inopportune time.” Doc’s fingers poked around the spot.
The itching bored bone deep, and Brody shivered beneath the scrub of latex.
“What about more vaccine? Is there any left? Is it too late? How long before I— Just promise me if I go first, you’ll take care of Cantrell.”
“What you’ve got is not deadly.” Doc sucked on bits of green candy and clucked his tongue. “Unless a severe poison ivy rash pulls a fast one and kills you.”
“Poison Ivy?”
“Odd place for a breakout though.”
“Cantrell cleared away some ivy plants in the woods. He’s not allergic.” Brody shifted his neck. “He must have touched me.”
“Well, he’s not dying either. Only the little girl’s grandma and grandpa passed from a mysterious sickness.”
“But—”
“No buts, son. He was sick, even showed some signs.” Doc slipped off his gloves and stuck them back into his pocket. No way did Brody want to guess where they’d been before tonight. “But the symptoms suddenly cleared up shortly after your arrival. Like magic, though I suspect they were all in his head to begin with. Now, son, what did you say about your heart?”
“If I told you, I don’t think you’d believe me.”
“Come on, you can share your tale when you talk with Cantrell. What do you say we go check on him?” Doc looped his thumbs in his overall shoulder straps right above the buckles. “How about we strike a bargain? You visit with your brother, and then you give Yates what he wants.”
“Yeah, as soon as the time limit is up. I used a fail-safe, so I can’t get into the computers yet, but yes, sir. No problem.”
“Well, this is one for the boys to talk about. As it is, the fellows will need to decide whether to keep Up-Chuck Boy or to change your nickname to Pox Boy.”
Like a mule kick, reality slammed Brody in the gut. He sucked an inhale and stared at the man’s wrinkled face. “You’re on
e of them.”
“Best get your shirt on. Time’s a wasting.” Doc stood back and stared solid at Brody. “Our cause is worth the effort. That’s why nigh on twenty years ago, your uncle and I started the New Mountain Militia.
Chapter 18
“You’re not so tough.” Hannah’s nose tip aimed at Junior.
“Yep, you’re one to know.” He fisted his hands until his gloves squeaked. A blip of water plopped on the top of his hood, spreading over the top of the hood like a slither of worms.
In the room of tables, right after Nora and the solider man left, the other kids and the guards pegged Junior with their gazes. Only moments before, the guards had taken Vincent to his room, but they seemed unsure what to do with the others and Junior.
By himself at a table for many, he shook his head. A heavy out-of-it thrum behind his eyes dragged as if his brain turned brittle like slate. His knees gave, and he slumped to sit in his chair.
“Enough, Hannah,” said Abe.
“He led them to us.” Hannah sucked in a choppy breath.
“So what if he did?” Abe slipped off his glasses and stared hard at the puddle pooling around Hannah’s feet. “They were going to find us sooner or later. Besides, you were the one who whined about your feet hurting and wanted to stop to rest.”
“I can’t help that I’m upset.” Hannah sighed. “At least the Void Master is gone for now. Geez, what a goob.” Due to Hannah’s emotional upheaval, despite the machine set up to stop them from using their powers, rain showers pelted in torrential sheets.
In the drizzle, Darcy Lynn huddled below her mittened hands.
The soldier men, toward the edges of the room, sort of marched in place. Like they didn’t know what to do with Junior and the rest.
“You can help what you do with the rain, Hannah.” Abe glared even harder at the area near his sister’s feet.
Steam rose from the floor.
“You kids. Stop whatever you’re doing.” A guard raised a pistol. “Now.”
“Better hope you shoot us all at once.” Hannah danced in the sizzle. “Don’t you dare scald me, Abe, you idiot.”
“Stop the silly stuff, Hannah.” Abe lowered his voice. “Now is not the time.”
“Just when is?” Hannah stepped into a chair seat as if the bottom were a high stair step. Hands on hips, she stood on the seat. Anger flashed in her eyes. “You know the way I feel rules the rain.”
Junior took in the drips falling from the rock ceiling.
“Darcy Lynn didn’t need his help. She’s right where she wants to be, or she’d take off her gloves and blow us all out of here so we could get away. They can’t defeat us. Even with the dweeb Junior on our side,” said Hannah, “we can beat them.”
“Sit down and shut your pie holes. Now!” The soldier near the machine that made them feel bad waved his arms.
The other guards hugged the walls and raised their guns.
Abe held up his hand. “It’s okay. She’s just being stupid.”
“I’m no dweeb,” Junior said.
“You’re being mean, Junior.” Darcy Lynn used her thumb and mittened fingers to pull at the straps of her right mitten cuff. She shucked off one of her mittens and wagged her fingers, sending a light breeze shifting over Junior’s face, the only part of him not covered.
“If I’m so stupid, why are you the one who’s all wet?” Hannah smirked.
Right above Junior and Abe, clouds formed and in a stinging rush, rain pounded down.
Junior quickly slipped his foot from his boot. “Stand down,” a soldier shouted. “Don your protective gear. All of you.”
Junior swiped his barefoot along the floor. He sent a rumble along the ground that jarred Hannah’s chair. The seat tilted corner to corner and the legs danced off the ground.
The pistol barrels turned toward Junior. Lips puckered and bowed tight, he lifted his hands, stuck his foot back into the boot, and slowly slid his toes home.
“You didn’t have to come back. Miss Nora’s taking real good care of me.” Darcy Lynn prodded the stuffed animal beside her so the toy swayed on the edge of her big table. “I don’t care for Fluffy Dog. I don’t like the color of the ribbon or him anymore.”
The rain kinked the fur, made the pink ribbon droop, and stirred a wet berry perfume smell.
“You’uns don’t care about me.” Junior shoved both feet, now encased in plastic, against the floor.
“You’uns isn’t a real word.” Hannah rolled her eyes hard enough to twist her eyeballs right out of her head. Pop. “It’s—”
“You tell Nora that I don’t want to stay here anymore.” Junior turned to the guards. Even the upper tips of his ears flared hot and his back molars ached.
The guards cut looks among themselves. Then, eyes wide, one of them ran like a cartoon character for the door and burst out into the hall.
Darcy Lynn wrung her mittens. “Can we eat soon? I want tater tots and mustard.”
Instead of taking the little girl’s food order, the guards edged closer with guns aimed.
Junior, kneeling, leaned down real slow and touched the end of his nose to the floor.
Overhead, for a second, water gushed, then rocks pinched together in a groan, cutting off the groundwater leak.
“Stop,” a soldier man yelled, “or I’ll shoot.”
The last of the water seeped through to drip over Junior’s hood, and the leaks from the ceiling ceased. In a blink, Hannah’s indoor clouds scattered.
“For now, we stay put. Have a seat,” one of the guards said. “No more funny stuff, or else we’ll turn up the device. If that don’t work, we’ll shock you, then pop you with a dart.”
Hannah gave the soldiers a hateful look.
“They’ve not shocked you yet.” Junior grinned as if he couldn’t wait for her to get zapped until her hair curled. With a snort, he plopped his butt back into his chair. “Hurts like the dickens.”
Clouds gathered thick again right over Hannah’s head. Rain drizzled upon her as the weather pouted with her.
At the sign of more rain, three guards rushed over to a corner and grabbed black fobs.
The next second, pain raged inside Junior’s skull.
“We can’t be like little kids right now. Come on, you know good and well that stubborn is worse than stupid.” Abe grabbed his forehead and sat down in his seat so hard the chair frame popped.
The soldier men raised their gun barrels again.
“His fault.” Hannah bent at the waist and the top half of her wilted onto her table, while the bottom half stood upright in a self-made, indoor puddle.
Served her right. The room whirled about Junior.
“Ow. Ow. Ow.” Darcy Lynn pressed the mittens to her head like a cap and muffs.
The stiff plastic suit pinched the back of his knees and the inside of his elbows as Junior folded into himself. His rump slid off his seat. Cooked dirt and scorched turnip stench stuffed his nose as he flopped onto the floor. He muttered, “I don’t need any of you.”
Chapter 19
In the khakis that didn’t hold off the dampness of the caves, Nora rolled her knotted shoulders to ease gathering tension.
Just ahead of her, Ross strode to one of the vacated offices—only a handful of the former staff remained after the pox scare. “With this capture, your mission might be back on track.”
My mission. My project. My command.
“Bring in the prisoner,” Ross barked from the doorway.
The bushy-headed man, hands bound in front, entered the small office with a belly-leading swagger. His too full lips quirked to one side.
The split across the upper bridge of the man’s nose oozed blood. Bruises smeared under his eyes. Rust-colored brown splatters painted the leaf design of his camouflage shirtfront. “Ma’am, you don’t know me from Adam, but if you take me in, I can help you protect yourself from cyber-attacks.”
A tip of Ross’s forehead prompted the guard to hand over his pistol and depart.
<
br /> With a measuring gaze, the color of almond with silver flecks, Ross staked the prisoner in place. “What’s your name?”
“Delbert Applebaum at your service, but most folks call me Del. Nickname was given to me because I when I’m around electronics, I can always compute.” The man, except for having his upper back hunched forward because of his bound wrists, looked at ease. “I was on my way to you when your men found me.”
“Why?” Nora wrung her hands, rubbing leather against leather.
Ross eased into a forward cat-like lean. Raising the Ruger .22 pistol, he aimed the business end at the prisoner. “Answer the lady.”
“No use pointing a gun at me.” Delbert’s chins wobbled. “The head honcho turned on me. Betrayed me ten ways to Sunday. Anyways, he’s got the computer-whiz guy, so the boss man doesn’t need a techno expert like me anymore.”
With a tug at her glove cuffs, Nora bunched the muscles in her lower abdomen, but the nervous flutter barely eased. “Mr. Applebaum, tell me about this computer wizard.”
“Please do call me Delbert, ma’am.” His wide tooth-filled grin revealed unexpected straight bright white teeth. “His name’s Brody Thackett. He’s Cantrell’s brother.”
Nora cut a sidelong gaze at Ross.
“This Brody guy,” Ross asked, “he works with the militia?”
“Once we captured him. Since he showed up, he’s taken over my job and elbowed me out.” Delbert’s lips pressed together and plumped outward. “Acts like he knows all, but he don’t know, sh—, uh, nothing.”
Nora tucked the leather dips between her fingers more tightly against her hands. “How do we know you weren’t sent to spy on or sabotage us?”
“If they ain’t stopped, they’ll overtake this place. They mean to capture and kidnap the children you’ve hidden away. No telling what else they’ll do if they take the little kiddies.” Although his wrists were bound, Delbert’s fingers below his belly spread in wide gestures.
“Nora, we could use other more convincing methods to confirm Delbert here is telling the truth.”
“But—” Spittle flicked from the man’s lips.
“We could, couldn’t we?” Nora removed her gloves in quick motions and placed them on a metal bookcase shelf. “Tell me, Delbert, have you ever known what it feels like for your heart to beat slower and slower, and then stop?”
