by B. C. Tweedt
“Yeah. You?”
Dan nodded grimly. He was barely breathing hard. But Greyson knew that violence left more marks than the visible ones. Still, though, he really looked ok. And he’d just put down three men in twenty seconds. Who is this guy?
“I’m fine. But we gotta go. Buckle in.”
Greyson did as he was told.
Chapter 39
Avery ran through the random guestroom, smiling at the couple watching a movie on their bed, and exited with a little wave. The hall was clear and so was the elevator lobby. She pushed the down button but second-guessed herself. With the elevator, she didn’t have control. If it happened to open on a floor with a Plurb, she was toast. Stairs, though, at least gave her a chance for escape.
She jogged to the staircase, and sure enough, hurried footsteps were bounding up from below. The ushers were coming for her. Up it is.
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The truck blasted through the streets and zipped past house after house.
“Whe’ah we goin’?” Asher asked, still clutching the bag.
“To the hills west of town, where the train tracks cut through,” Dan answered, checking his mirrors.
Worry slipped into Greyson’s mind. “Which way does the train go?”
“It goes away from here.”
“No. Which way does it go? Direction.”
Dan gave him a glance. “West. Why does it matter?”
“I’m going south. I can’t go west. Can’t we get to your plane?”
Dan jerked the wheel, buzzing around the corner, heading toward a factory with all kinds of storage bins and piping piled high outside. Streetlights flashed overhead, one after another, yet sparser and sparser as they neared the outskirts of town.
“Why south? Where are you going?”
“To my dad. He’s in the Bahamas. Nassau.”
Dan’s eyes narrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror. They were being followed. “Hold on.”
Dan hit the accelerator, but the car caught up quickly, flashing its brights.
“Heads down!”
The warning came just in time. Bullets blasted through the back window and smacked the truck’s bed with loud clangs. Greyson ducked, but kept his eyes open and his hands busy with the slingshot. In the shaking side mirror, he caught a glimpse of the gunman leaning out from the backseat with a hunting rifle.
BANG BANG!
Two more bullets hit on Greyson’s side as the car pulled alongside them. Suddenly Dan punched the brakes and swung into the car with a resounding smack and metallic screech. From his window, Greyson could see the driver sneering. The man in the back leveled his rifle.
“Aagh!”
Greyson’s window burst apart, sending shards inside, dancing at their feet.
“Get my gun from the bag!” Dan ordered.
But Asher clutched at Greyson’s arm, digging into his flesh. Greyson pulled free, watching the Plurb car drift a distance away, and made his own decision.
“I got it!”
He had been trading out the bands and loading the steel arrow. Waiting for the car to come back around, he pulled it back as far as he could, turned in his seat and aimed out the broken window.
When it all lined up, Greyson let the bolt-arrow fly.
WHIIIZZZ! BANG!
The Plurb’s front wheel burst into shreds, flopping on the road as the driver yanked on the wheel. The car flung left and then right, turned on its side and then rolled in a spectacular spin, whipping dirt into the sky as it barreled into the ditch with a cloud of dust and debris.
Asher’s face was a mix of fright and amazement, but a smile crept in as he turned to watch the aftermath. “Cool!”
Greyson settled back into his seat, catching his breath and smiling to himself. Asher caught his attention and they shared the smile. Even Dan gave him a look.
But Dan spotted more headlights ahead. Roadblock.
“Not out yet.”
Dan swerved to the right and busted through a chain-linked gate, sending it spiraling through the dirt. Asher watched it, and again he smiled. “Geez, Dad!”
Dan glanced again at Greyson as they buzzed around stacks of pipes, clearly taking a detour. “Sometimes you have to go west to go south.”
Greyson thought hard for a moment, eyeing the dark, rolling slopes ahead. He had gotten his hopes up. The images of a plane flying high above, where he could watch the mountains slide by his window, were now crumbling with every squeak of the truck’s shocks.
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Wayne watched the tiny headlights in the distance veer to the left and bounce through the factory yard. It was them.
“Critter, you piece of…” he muttered to himself, turning to his men. “After them!” He slung his large rifle over his shoulder and jumped in the passenger seat. Their truck took the lead, headed toward the hills.
His phone rang, a flurry of banjo strums in the tune of America the Beautiful, and he cleared his throat. “Yes?”
“Has the FBI plant been captured?”
“Not yet. He has help. One of our own, a lousy turncoat – ”
“He wants him captured. At all costs.”
“Yes, sir.”
“At…all…costs.”
The man hung up.
Wayne thought long and hard, stroking his goatee. He knew where Critter was headed. He knew the costs of stopping them. The boy must be worth the costs. The cost of war is high.
He dialed Humpy. “How many people do we got in Camden? Thirty-six? Get’em all. We’re going to need them. This is it.”
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Nighttime had fallen on the ship’s top deck, but the stars were out in full force, keeping the night bright. Adding their own flair to the stars were the blazing spotlights bouncing around the open-aired dance floor with the beat of the music. The bass was pounding and the cruisers were letting loose under the stars.
Avery cut through the thickest mob of dancers, swinging her arms and twirling with a laugh. She was enjoying this. To her, those giving chase were only cruise workers – not terrorists. If she got caught, she would be chastised and probably grounded, but that would be the extent of it. Or so she thought.
The two ushers pushed through the mob as well, but she was skinnier – much faster through the crowd. She emerged first and checked her surroundings. Sensing their approach from behind, she leapt over a deck chair and bounced on several more, using them as miniature trampolines as the ushers gave chase. They were getting tired and slow, which made the chase almost too easy.
She stopped for a drink, sipping at someone’s soda and thanking them with a smile, but bolted just before the ushers caught up. Another waiter joined them in the hunt, but she spun around him and taunted him for good measure. The cruisers watching were entertained. She liked to please them.
Exiting the food area, Avery slid through the water park, pulling the rope that dumped an over-sized bucket full of water on top of one of their heads. She laughed as he lost his sense of direction and fell into the kiddie pool. The kids liked that one.
The other Plurb almost nabbed her, but she ducked under a slide and headed back to the center of the ship. That was too close.
She couldn’t keep up the chase forever, and she knew exactly how to end it.
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Dan slammed on the brakes exited in a hurry. Greyson opened his door, but hesitated, looking at the trees all around. Here? Where is the train?
“Let’s go!” Dan ordered.
Greyson unbuckled and pulled his backpack on as he jumped to the grass. Kit followed. But as the man and his son ran off, hand in hand. Greyson paused.
Now was his chance.
He could outrun them. Maybe he should. Sure, he would be right back where he started – alone; but at least he wouldn’t be blindly following someone he didn’t trust to some invisible train. There wasn’t any train out here. And even if there were, it would be heading west. Dad was south. He’d always been headed south. W
hy should he be misled now? Why should he trust this guy?
Dan had stopped, holding Asher’s hand. He looked back at Greyson, but didn’t bark any orders. He paused, as if he understood. Greyson shifted on his feet, still unsure. He wanted to be alone, but then again, he really didn’t. It had been nice talking with someone who talked back. He’d forgotten how long he had gone without human interaction.
“You’ll be free of us soon enough. I have friends who will meet you in Camden and take you where you need to go.”
“I need to go to Nassau.”
“You need to get to safety, first.”
“Why aren’t you going with?”
The man paused, still holding Asher’s hand. Greyson tightened his chin to keep it from trembling.
“Because he can’t make the jump,” Dan explained stoically, looking at Asher. “And I’m staying to protect him.”
The jump? What jump? But whatever he meant by that, there was something worse. He was leaving.
It was happening again. They always left. They’d be with him for a while, but then they’d be gone. And Dan was no different.
Headlights flashed through the woods, lighting the sides of the trees. Someone was chasing them.
“Greyson. I’ll come back and I’ll help you. But for now, you have to trust me.”
“You will?” His voice was doing that thing again. Breaking. “You’ll come back?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Greyson fought the lump in his throat and blinked away the moisture in his eyes as he made his decision. He jerked into a jog after them, distracted by the headlights that bounced all around, casting weird shadows in the night. The sounds of tires digging through the terrain below grew louder, but Greyson heard another sound.
Clackclackclackclackclack.
There was a train.
“Hurry!”
He put on speed, ignoring the pain in his side and the chafing of the bag on his shoulders. There was no stopping. Running. Running. Trees whipping by like rungs of a ladder. And the sound of the train’s engine began to thump at his chest. It was close.
A clearing of the trees was up ahead; they’d reached the opposite side of the ridge. Dan stopped first, at the edge of a precipice and looked back at Greyson. The look on Dan’s face made Greyson slow to a walk as he approached.
CLACKCLACKCLACKCLACK!
The next cautious step allowed Greyson to peek over the edge. Train cars rumbled underneath. The vibrations jostled his ribs and teeth. The train was huge and heavy, and rushing past only a few feet below, hugging the ridge as it weaved through the mountains.
Greyson took a step back.
“You’ll have to get a running start.”
Greyson could read the regret in Dan’s voice. He knew it was near impossible. He knew that Greyson could die.
“But…”
“You have to do it. Now. There’s not much train left.”
The fear formed a hard pit in his gut, pressing against his intestines like a bowling ball. He had to take deep breaths just to keep it down.
There was daring, but then there was stupid.
“This is stupid!” Greyson shouted over the sound of the train. “I’m staying with you. We…we can get out together.”
“I don’t know if we’ll make it. But you have to. You’re too important.” He stared Greyson down.
“What will you do? Will you get away? I can help…”
“They’re after you; I can evade them. Now go!”
After a moment’s deliberation, Greyson pointed at him. “Promise me!” he demanded. “Promise me you’ll fly me to my dad!”
Dan scanned the trees. Faint shouts and flashlights were pursuing them. He turned back. “Yes, I promise!”
“And Kit?”
“We’ll take care of him!”
Greyson eyed the train. There were maybe ten cars left. He quickly snapped his hat to his fanny pack, knelt to Kit’s level, and grabbed his face.
“Be a good boy. Sic the bad ones. Lick the good ones.”
Kit licked his face – a goodbye – and Greyson bolted through the trees alongside the train. He ran through the grass and almost slipped off the side, sending a small dirt avalanche onto the train. Regaining his balance, he gained speed. But the train was faster. The third to last car pulled ahead.
Greyson eyed the best portion of the cliff for take off. No trees, no overhanging branches, solid ground. It was twenty feet away. And then ten.
He held his breath, planted his foot, and leapt.
In a blur, the train car appeared under him – a green metal grating zipping by, threatening to tear his legs out from underneath. His feet hit and he fell forward, banging his knees and hands on the grating; and suddenly he had lost control. He lashed out at anything and everything. His fingernails scraped metal, but he couldn’t find a grip. The train swept up his momentum and knocked him to the side; he saw the trees swoosh overhead, the stars in white streaking lines. His body flung over the side and headed for the rocks below.
UGH! Something jerked his backpack; his arms slipped through, but he snagged the strap and held on to it for dear life. As his mind reeled to figure out what had happened, he hung over the side, grasping the backpack’s strap and flailing to get control.
The train chugged on and twisted around each turn, jostling Greyson’s body from side to side, banging his feet against the metal plating. The ground rushed below, but the backpack held strong with one of the straps wrapped over the corner of the top grating.
As Greyson’s body swung less and less, he finally beat the panic. He had screamed when he fell, but now he could only make anguished groans, like an animal begging for its life. And then he heard another animal sound. Sniffing.
Swinging his body around to face the side of the car, he pressed his feet against the wall and grabbed higher on the strap.
Sure enough, Kit was above him, wagging his tail and sniffing at his backpack. He had followed him?
“Little help?”
Kit scratched at the metal grating, as if he were telling him what to do. And he knew it. He had to climb, or his strength would run out.
Placing his feet against the side, he took his first step higher. Another step upward against the side and another grab took him a few inches closer to the top. His forearms were burning and shaking, but he had reached the edge. He pressed his elbows on the grating for leverage; then, with one big push, he rolled onto the top and latched on.
CLACKCLACKCLACKCLACK!
I did it. I’m okay. I’m alive. Somehow.
Kit was already licking him with his thick tongue, forcing Greyson’s lips and cheeks around his face, but he just let it happen. He was too tired.
He breathed in deep and long, closing his eyes as he felt the vibrations of the train on his back. It was horribly uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to move. He was safe.
Eventually tiring of Kit’s licks, he sat up and opened his eyes. The stars were beautiful – as was typical in the mountains – but even more so after a near-death experience. And he hadn’t realized how near death it had been. He was on top of the last car.
Chapter 40
Sydney burst through the door. “Nick! Jarryd!” And then she stopped. They were both sitting on the bed. They had been in the heat of an argument, but were now very happy to see Sydney.
“You got away! Do you still have the watch?” Nick asked.
Jarryd threw in his own question. “Have you seen Avery?”
“Avery has it.”
She turned to check the hall one more time and began to close the door, but Jarryd was suddenly at her side, halfway out the door. “She’s still out there! We’ve got to help!”
Nick shook his head. “No, they’ve already seen you too much. They’ll be looking for you both now. It’s only a matter of time before they track us down. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
“I can’t leave her out there.” Jarryd held the doorknob with one hand, waiting for the go
-ahead.
But Sydney and Nick were dumbfounded. Had he really said that?
“No…” Nick began, still sorting through all the options, “…we have to tell our parents. Don’t worry; they’re not going to kill her – not on the ship in front of everyone.”
“How do you know that?” Jarryd sneered, closing the door.
“They won’t kill her yet. They wouldn’t risk messing up their plan.”
“Oh, yeah? Just because it’s not Wednesday yet? How do you know what Daryl is going to do?”
The sound seemed to be vacuumed out of the room. Nick and Sydney were speechless for a few good seconds, racking their brains to make sense of Jarryd’s questions.
“Uh…what?” Sydney asked.
Jarryd still held the doorknob, but his grip loosened as he thought. “What what?”
“What the heck are you talking about? Who is Daryl?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why’d you say his name – whoever he is?”
“That’s what the message on the watch said. ‘Daryl is expected to arrive Wednesday night. Disembark Wednesday at 4 pm.’”
“Ohhhhh.” Sydney and Nick shared a sigh and a look of wonder. Finally they understood. Jarryd had intercepted a message on the watch.
Though they were both thinking the same thing, Sydney spoke first. “Is that enough information?”
“I think it is,” Nick whispered, still thinking. “It’ll have to do.”
Nodding, as if he understood the other two, Jarryd twisted the doorknob. “Enough talking? Can I go rescue my girl now?”
Nick stood up victoriously. “Yes. Before she does anything stupid, we have to give them their watch back.”
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Sam typed vigorously, the code flying across the screen. Calvin watched, chiming in when necessary to correct or to guide him. Though he was odd and annoyingly paranoid, Sam considered him the perfect tutor. He never pushed him beyond his limits, he gave almost no homework, and he chose what they studied based on his interests.
“Perfect, Samster. Save that program to my thumb drive and pop it over.”
Sam did as he was told and gave the thumb drive back to Calvin.
