Michael Vey 3 ~ Battle of the Ampere

by Richard Paul Evans

“The road goes to Paucartambo,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a small village.”

  “Does the army know about this road?”

  “They wouldn’t be much of an army if they didn’t.”

  “But you felt safe enough to hide here.”

  “They weren’t expecting us.” He turned his head to look at me. “You don’t really think you can escape, do you? They’ve plastered your pictures on newspapers and handbills everywhere. The whole country is looking for you.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to do our best to not let them find us,” I said. “Come on, guys.”

  “Wait. You’re not just going to leave me here like this. . . .”

  “No,” I said. “Ian, add another pair of handcuffs. And if he gives you any trouble”—I looked at the guard—“leave him on the anthill.”

  *

  We checked the other three guards for money, then added handcuffs as well. We ended up with more than two thousand seven hundred soles, which Ostin said was more than a thousand dollars. A half hour later I approached Jack, who was sitting on the ground next to Wade’s grave.

  “We’re ready.”

  He stood. He was no longer crying. His emotions had turned. His face was steely with anger.

  I handed him the truck keys. “We’re in the blue truck. The guard told us that the road goes all the way through the jungle. We can make it to Cuzco by night.”

  He nodded, then walked past me to the truck.

  Taylor, Ostin, McKenna, and I rode in the truck with Jack, while Zeus, Tessa, Abigail, and Ian rode in the other.

  The dirt road continued on for ten miles, opening to an abandoned logging site, then carried on west for another forty miles until, by late afternoon, we emerged from the jungle into Paucartambo, a village nestled between the green slopes of two mountains.

  The ancient-looking town was bigger than I thought it would be. The buildings had weathered plaster exteriors with terra-cotta tile roofs and the streets were crowded with people on foot, many dressed in bright Quechuan costumes with ponchos and bowler hats.

  As we entered the town, a herd of llamas crossing the main street stopped us.

  “Llamas are so funny looking,” Taylor said.

  “Technically,” Ostin said, “they are vicuñas.”

  “They look like llamas to me,” Taylor said.

  “ ‘Llama’ refers to the whole family of domesticated South American cameloids,” Ostin said. “Like we call horses, horses, but they might be quarter horses or Clydesdales or any other kind. Vicuñas are smaller than most other llamas and their fur is more valued than even the alpaca. It’s illegal to try to export them.”

  “I wasn’t planning on bringing one home,” Taylor said.

  “You know, llamas are descended from the camel.”

  “How did camels get to South America?” McKenna asked.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Ostin said.

  “I’m not,” Taylor mumbled.

  I lay my head against the window and looked out. I was glad to hear Ostin spouting off again. I wanted to think about anything except Wade. Somehow, Ostin’s biology lesson made things seem normal even though they weren’t and never would be again.

  After the herd had passed we drove slowly around the town.

  “Look,” Taylor said. “A street market. Can we stop?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said.

  “Maybe they have something to eat,” Ostin said. “I’m hungry.”

  “Me too,” McKenna said. “And thirsty. Can we stop and get some water?”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” Taylor said.

  “They don’t have toilets,” Ostin said. “Just squatters.”

  “What’s a squatter?” she asked.

  “It’s just a hole in the ground. And they probably won’t have toilet paper.”

  “Lovely,” Taylor said. “I should have gone in the jungle with McKenna.”

  “All right,” I said, pointing to a dirt field at the end of the road. “Let’s park over there.”

  Jack pulled off the road into the vacant lot and put the truck in park. Zeus pulled the other truck up to my side and rolled down his window. “What are we doing?” Zeus asked.

  “We’re stopping to get something to eat,” I said.

  He looked back, then said, “All right.”

  Ostin and I opened the doors, and everyone climbed out except for Jack. Zeus parked the other truck in front of us, and everyone else got out.

  The place made me nervous. “We better not stay too long,” I said.

  Abigail walked up to Jack. “Are you coming?”

  “No. I’ll wait here.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Abigail touched his arm. “I’ll see if I can find some pastries or something.”

  The street market was swarming with people and our presence did not go unnoticed. We were the only foreigners on the street, and the natives were not shy about staring at us, which made me very nervous. I held Taylor’s hand as we walked through the square.

  “I wish Idaho had street markets,” she said. She stopped to look at a colorful poncho, holding it up to her chest. “How do I look?”

  “Native,” I said.

  There was a small mart with a refrigerator near the door. “Hey, they’ve got Inca Kola,” I said “Want one?”

  “Sure. Maybe they have a bathroom inside,” Taylor replied.

  The mart was narrow, no more than ten feet wide but three times as long. Colorful packages of snacks with Spanish writing hung on the walls. I lay our things on one of the small wood tables against the wall.

  “I don’t see a bathroom,” I said. “I wish Ostin was here to translate for us.”

  “Wait, I remember the word for bathroom.” She walked up to the dark-featured man at the counter. “Excuse me. Do you have a baño?”

  I doubted he understood anything but the last word, but he pointed toward the back of the store. “El baño, sí.”

  “Two years of high school Spanish just paid off,” Taylor said, looking back at me. “See you in a second.”

  While she was gone, I bought two colas and some bottled water, and brought them over to the table. The table was dirty, but there were napkins so I wet one with a bottle of water and wiped it off. Taylor returned about five minutes later.

  “That was gross,” she said. “There were flies everywhere.” She sat down and I handed her a bottle of cola.

  “It’s warm,” I said.

  She frowned. “Don’t they have a refrigerator?”

  “Yeah. Just no power.”

  “Why don’t they have electricity?”

  I cocked my head. “I think that’s our fault.”

  “Oh, right.”

  I took a swig of my tepid soda. “So when did this thing with Ostin and McKenna start?”

  “I think it began back in Idaho,” she said. “When McKenna melted through her bands in the truck? Ostin was all goo-goo eyed.”

  “He did always have a thing for Asian girls. Remember that night at Maddie’s party when he just stared at Angel until she freaked?”

  “Yeah. Then he told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world.” Taylor nodded. “Maybe he’s not as dumb with girls as we thought.” She took a drink of her cola. “Actually, I think it really started after we lost you in the Starxource plant. I freaked out and blamed Ostin for leaving you behind. I said some pretty mean things. McKenna stood up for him.”

  Just then two soldiers in camouflage ran past the grocery store.

  “Did you see that?” I said.

  Taylor turned back. “What?”

  “Soldiers just ran by. We’ve got to go.”

  “We’ve got to find the others,” Taylor said.

  We left our drinks and walked to the door. I looked for more soldiers but didn’t see any. Across the street from us I could see Abigail, Zeus, and Tessa trying o
n hats. We hurried over to them.

  Tessa looked up at me from under the brim of a straw hat. “What’s up?”

  “Soldiers,” Taylor said.

  “Where?” Zeus asked.

  “Two just ran past us,” I said. “That way.”

  “Toward the trucks,” Zeus said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where’s everyone else?” I asked.

  “The last time I saw Ostin and McKenna they were at that table over there,” Abigail said. “By that fruit cart. They were buying ponchos.”

  “And Ian?”

  “He decided to hang back with Jack,” Tessa said.

  “You guys head back,” I said. “Taylor and I will find Ostin and McKenna.”

  While they walked back up the road, Taylor and I headed back toward the fruit cart.

  “There they are,” Taylor said, pointing. “At that puppet show.”

  We ran down to them. They were both carrying bags with colorful ponchos and hats.

  I grabbed Ostin’s arm. “We’ve got to go.”

  “Wait,” Ostin said. “It’s just about over.”

  “Now!” Taylor said. “We just saw soldiers.”

  As we hurried back up the street toward the trucks, we noticed a large crowd had gathered near the end of the market adjacent to the field where we had parked the trucks.

  Suddenly, Ostin grabbed McKenna’s arm and pulled her into a small bakery. He shouted to us, “Guys!” He frantically motioned for us to follow.

  “What?” I said, walking into the bakery.

  “That’s not a crowd, it’s a mob. I heard someone shout ‘Death to the American terrorists.’ ”

  Just then the baker behind the counter pointed at us, “Terroristas!”

  Taylor rebooted him. The man put his hand up to his forehead. He looked confused and lost. He spotted us and said, “A la orden, amigos?”

  “Pastel de canela, por favor,” Ostin said, pointing to a pastry. “Eso.”

  “Muy bien,” he said, lifting out a bun sprinkled with cinnamon. “Hablas muy bien el español. Un sol, porfa.”

  Ostin handed him a coin.

  “How can you think about eating?” Taylor asked.

  “It’s a distraction,” Ostin said.

  “For him or for you?” Taylor said.

  “Ask him if there’s a back way out,” I said.

  “Hay una salida atrás?” Ostin asked.

  “Sí. A través aquí.”

  “Gracias,” Ostin said. He turned to us. “There is.”

  “Let’s go.”

  The back door opened out into an unpaved alley. Fortunately there was no one there except a beggar who had fallen asleep against a stucco wall.

  “This way,” I said.

  As we got to the top of the passage our hearts froze. “You gotta be kidding me,” Ostin said.

  In the dirt field there were two army jeeps with mounted machine guns, a large transport truck, a police car, and a crowd of Peruvians who had surrounded the vehicles. Jack and Ian were nowhere to be seen.

  “Do you think they caught them?” McKenna asked.

  “I’m betting that Ian saw them coming and they ran.”

  “What do we do now?” Taylor asked. “They’ve surrounded the trucks.”

  “They’re no good to us now anyway,” I said. “We’ve been identified. Everyone will be looking for them.”

  “Then how do we get out of here?”

  “Look over there,” McKenna said.

  To the south of the lot was a crowd of several hundred Peruvians. They had surrounded Zeus, Tessa, and Abigail.

  “This is bad,” I said.

  “This is going to be ugly,” Ostin said. “It’s a freakin’ lynch mob.”

  “Except with Tessa next to him, Zeus could easily kill them all,” I said.

  “That’s all we need,” Taylor said. “A massacre by the American terrorists.”

  “I have an idea,” I said. “Ostin, we need your ponchos.”

  He handed over the sacks. I gave one of the ponchos to Taylor. “If we can get close enough to them, Taylor could reboot the whole crowd.”

  “I can’t reboot that many people,” she said.

  “You can with Tessa’s help,” I said. “That’s why we need to get close.” I pulled the hat on, lowering its brim to conceal my face. “How do I look?”

  “Native,” Taylor said, putting on her own hat.

  I turned to Ostin. “We need a diversion. Blow something up. Just not the big army truck.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s what we’re taking out of here.”

  “Got it,” McKenna said.

  Taylor took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  Taylor and I shoved our way through the jeering crowd with our heads down as she rebooted everyone in our way. One man grabbed my arm, but I immediately pulsed and kept walking. When we got near the center, we saw rocks and fruit around Zeus and the girls. Zeus was bleeding and three Peruvians were lying facedown on the ground. There were machetes on the ground near two of them.

  The girls stood behind Zeus, who had his hands up, electricity sparking between them. The people didn’t dare get any closer, so they had resorted to throwing things at them. Near the front, a man cocked his arm back to throw a brick. I shocked him, dropping him to the ground. I walked into the clearing with Taylor following behind me.

  Zeus held his hands out toward us. “Stop!”

  I kept walking.

  “I said stop!”

  Then he fired at me, which is what I wanted. The electricity filled my body with even more strength, something we’d need if Taylor couldn’t reboot them all.

  When I didn’t fall, Zeus looked panicked. When I was ten feet from him I tilted my hat up. “Need some help?”

  He groaned with relief. “Michael.”

  “Tessa, enhance Taylor.”

  “Got it,” Tessa said.

  I looked at Taylor. “Now.”

  Taylor took off her hat and concentrated. Suddenly the entire crowd silenced. A few of the older people collapsed to the ground.

  “Wow,” Taylor said. “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Hurry, let’s get out of here,” I said. We walked in a single-file line with me in front, Zeus taking the back, and Tessa in the middle to enhance all of us. “Have you seen Jack and Ian?” I asked.

  “No,” Abigail said. “I’m hoping Ian’s seen us.”

  Suddenly there was a loud explosion near the market and black smoke began to rise above the buildings. As I had hoped, it drew the crowd’s attention away from the field.

  “What was that?” Zeus asked.

  “McKenna and Ostin,” I said. “Tessa, stay close to Taylor. Keep rebooting.”

  We might as well have been invisible as we walked through the crowd. The townspeople just stood around us in a stupor, looking like they all had migraines. After the supercharge I got from Zeus, I was feeling pretty electric, and people’s metal objects kept sticking to me, which I had to pluck off.

  “You’ve got a machete stuck to your back,” Tessa said, pulling the knife off of me. “And three earrings.”

  As we got near the army truck, Taylor rebooted the crowd standing around it. Then I walked to the driver’s side of the truck and pulsed, knocking out the driver and passenger. Zeus and I pulled them out.

  “I’ll drive,” Zeus said.

  “There’s Jack and Ian,” McKenna said, pointing toward the east. “They’re running toward us.”

  Jack and Ian were at the far side of the field, running at a dead sprint in our direction.

  “They’re being chased by soldiers,” Abigail said.

  There were at least a dozen soldiers behind them. Then one of them dropped to his knee and raised a gun.

  “Zeus!” I shouted.

  “I see it!” Zeus said. He reached out and fired a wide bolt, dropping the entire group like bowling pins.

  I began waving toward Ian and Jack, which was moot sinc
e Ian had already seen us. They reached us seconds later, panting and out of breath. “Thanks for the assist,” Jack said to Zeus.

  “Always my pleasure,” Zeus said. “Get in back.”

  Zeus and I jumped in the front seat, and Zeus started up the truck.

  Taylor, Abigail, and Tessa had already climbed into the back of the transport, and Taylor waved to Jack and Ian.

  I parted the screen that divided the cab from the back. “Ian, where are Ostin and McKenna?”

  He looked around for a moment. “They’re over there,” he said, pointing.

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Wait for it.”

  Just then Ostin and McKenna came running out of the bakery and back up the alley. “Zeus, they’re over there,” I said. “Let’s get them.”

  “Got it,” he said. He shoved the stick shift forward, and the truck sluggishly ground into gear, then lurched forward. “This thing’s a whale,” he said.

  He turned the truck around as tightly as he could, then drove through a ditch, which tumbled everyone in back, and into the road. I hung out the passenger window, waving Ostin’s poncho to get their attention. McKenna saw us first.

  “Get in back!” I shouted to them.

  Zeus stopped the truck, and Jack and Ian pulled them in. Taylor pounded on the metal side of the truck to signal us. “They’re in! Go!”

  “Which way?” Zeus asked.

  “That way,” I said, pointing to the town’s only stoplight. “Take the highway east to Cuzco.”

  We drove around the outside of the town, onto the highway. I kept waiting for someone to come after us, but no one did. As the town fell out of sight, Taylor stuck her head up into the cab.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Never been better,” I said.

  “Good,” she said, nodding. “Cute little town.”

  *

  The one good thing about our brush with danger and narrow escape (other than that we did escape) was that it temporarily took our minds from the grief we were all carrying—though I’m not sure if trading fear for pain is such a bargain.

  From Paucartambo we drove to the ancient Incan hill town of Pisac, but for obvious reasons, we didn’t stop. From Pisac it was only thirty-five more miles to Cuzco, which was a pretty straight drive except that the bridge over the Urubamba River was washed out and the temporary bridge allowed only one lane of traffic, so we had to wait a long time to cross.