I looked around to see why he cared if I was quiet, and that was when I noticed the hole in the ceiling. The hole that led to the mine, and to the bandits guarding it. I moved to the side of the opening, and Brock and Aaren joined me.
Even though I’d followed right behind them, I hadn’t looked closely at the frames of the guards’ packs. Six of them took off their packs and removed the fabric part that held supplies. The remaining part had two side pieces made of wood that were shaped differently at the top than at the bottom, and three wooden cross pieces, kind of like a ladder. No, exactly like a ladder. The six men each slid the top part of their ladder into the bottom part of another ladder, connecting them. When they were done, it was long enough to reach the hole in the rock ceiling. I guess a few of the guards used their downtime in Browning to invent. It was the kind of thing that would likely win an award at the Inventions Contest.
With the ladder in place, Clive and Lee went up to the surface, while we waited. If the bandits saw our guard first, they could warn the other bandits. Or worse, they could shoot Clive and Lee! We barely breathed as we heard a couple of bandits let out startled cries before their bodies hit the ground. Sounds that told us we could go up the ladder and save our town.
All of the guards climbed the ladder before us except Beckett. I stepped from the top rung onto the floor of the mines, and for the first time since the dark-haired bandit shoved my mom, the responsibility that felt like a schoolbag full of bricks was lifted from me. The worry about everyone was still there, but we had succeeded! We’d gotten help to White Rock. I practically floated through the tunnel to the large room at the opening.
Aaren stooped next to one of the bandits who lay at the mouth of the cave, and fingered a tiny feathered thing that stuck out of the man’s neck. He looked up at Beckett.
“It’s a blow dart,” Beckett said. “They should be out for a couple of hours”—he nudged the ropes that bound the bandit’s feet with his boot—“but they tied them up just in case.”
Aaren, Brock, and I put on our snowshoes. I felt bad that the guards didn’t have any—the snow went past the knees of most of them. With everyone in town trapped, it wasn’t like they had been out shoveling pathways.
The easiest way down the mile and a half to City Circle would have been to follow the tram path nearest the cave entrance. The bandits guarding the community center would have no problem seeing thirty-one of us walk down it, though. Instead, we trudged through the snow behind houses, bushes, and fences.
Stott held up a hand, motioning for us to stop at the edge of the first ring, still half a mile from City Circle and quite a distance from Carina’s home. Aaren, Brock, and I would stay there during the fight. He told us all to hide behind a barn while he sent Lee and Aaren’s brother Cole ahead as scouts to see how many bandits guarded the outside of the community center.
And then we waited.
Fifteen minutes passed before Lee and Cole returned, out of breath. “They’re on their way,” Lee said.
“What?” Stott looked back and forth between the two guards. “It isn’t sundown yet!”
Lee took a breath. “They’re outside the community center, loading food onto horses. The community center’s doors are barricaded—probably so they could get away without anyone coming after them. We overheard the one in charge. He said they should tell every town that they killed four of their kids, because it made them hand over the medicine without a fight.”
The impact of what Lee said hit me. We had played dead at the edge of the Bomb’s Breath when we escaped, but I had told my dad I could go through it without dying. I had assumed that if the bandits told my parents, they would know we were actually okay. I never guessed the bandits would say they killed us. So my dad thought I was dead. All my brothers had died before they were even born, and now my mother thought I’d died, too. Aaren’s parents thought two of their kids were dead. The whole town thought we were dead and didn’t know that help was on its way, so they’d handed over the Ameiphus. I took a few steps forward and threw up into a bank of snow.
“How much time?” Stott asked.
Lee shrugged. “Ten minutes, maybe?”
Cole cleared his throat. “That’s not all—they have hostages. Williams, Newberry …” Cole glanced at Aaren, then back to Stott. “And my mom.”
Aaren stiffened, so I reached out and grabbed his hand. I didn’t look at him, because I didn’t want him to see the panic on my face. I’d never witnessed a battle before—when bandits attacked on our way home from the Planting Festival in Browning, I’d slept in the supply wagon through the whole thing. But it wasn’t hard to guess that hostages could accidentally get shot by either side in an attack. I hoped Aaren would never have to experience what I felt when my dad got shot.
The men gathered around Stott, leaving Brock, Aaren, and me blocked by a wall of bodies. But we heard Stott’s urgent voice: “Beckett, take your team up to the Kearneys’ property. My team, we’re at the top of the Romaneks’. Clive, you’re on the roof of their house. Lee, I want you on the barn roof. When the hostages are in sight, use the blow darts on whoever’s closest to them. No one fires until Clive and Lee give the hostages a chance to run.
“It sounds like they each have a gun, but we don’t know if they all have bullets. Assume they do. Stay behind cover until they’ve wasted as much of their ammo as possible.”
Stott took a deep breath, and his next words weren’t as rushed. “Our primary objective is to take the medicine back. Shoot to wound only, stay alive, and get them to surrender. I want this orderly and neat. Move out!”
Those with bows adjusted their quivers, the few with guns loaded their ammunition, and Clive and Lee readied their blow darts as they moved away from Stott. Once the crowd cleared and Stott could see us again, it was obvious he’d forgotten about us.
“Hope, Aaren, Brock. Forget Carina’s house. It’s still too far away. See the Johnsons’ house over there?” We all turned to look, even though we knew where it was. It was a bluish-gray home a little downhill and a hundred yards from the tram path. Just far enough from the battle to be safe. “Get there and stay until one of us comes for you. Go. Go!”
We ran as fast as our snowshoes would allow and tried to stay behind fences and bushes. Once we reached the Johnsons’ house, we practically fell through the back door and into the kitchen.
“Were we seen?” Brock asked.
Aaren leaned over and put his hands on his knees. “I don’t think so.”
We stood there a full minute before I was so restless I couldn’t stand it. “I have to know what’s happening.”
“Me too,” Aaren said. “My brothers and my mom—”
Brock nodded. “Let’s get on the roof.”
We slid out the kitchen door, and I looked toward the guards. They must have all gotten into position, because I couldn’t see any of them. The grain tram path was just as empty. The air was so clear, I heard the faint murmuring of voices as the bandits came up the trail.
We rushed to the side of the house hidden from the path, took off our snowshoes and tied them to our backs, then climbed up some wooden boxes onto the roof. A thick layer of snow covered everything, so we pushed it off the side and peeked over the edge. I caught a glimpse of the bandits not far from the community center, which meant they were a little less than half a mile from our guard. I counted three horses with them, loaded with food. They were crazy if they thought they’d actually be able to carry that much through the river cave.
The community center was teeny from so far away, but I knew everyone was in there, so I strained to see anyway. Then I noticed two more horses picketed next to the building, knee-deep in snow with no food or water, tethered on short ropes so they couldn’t even move around to get warm. I pointed to them. “Can you believe they just left the horses outside? The stables are right there. Why do they have to make the horses miserable, too?”
“It’ll be over soon,” Aaren said, “and we’ll take care of them. Th
e ones they’re using as pack horses, too.”
I sighed. “I know. I just—” I didn’t even finish my sentence. They knew what I meant. I just wish they’d never come. It wasn’t like wishing changed things, though.
I stared at the spot where I would first be able to see the bandits, right where the grain tram lay wedged in a bank of snow at the side of the path. My stomach muscles clenched as the first bandit came into view. This was an actual life-or-death situation. I’d heard of battles plenty of times in history class, but those were with people long dead. People I didn’t know. People I didn’t care about. With every bandit who stepped into view, I got more and more nervous for our guard. I looked up at the Romaneks’ roofs. Clive was on the house roof and Lee on the barn roof, both lying just like we were, their eyes peeking over the tops of the roofs, the rest of their bodies hidden.
When the bandits walked past Holden Newberry’s house, I saw their faces. The mean, dark-haired bandit who shoved my mom. Gravel Voice. A teenage bandit from the gym. Shivering Bandit. The three men who chased us to the Bomb’s Breath. The shorter, darker-skinned man from the river at the Harvest Festival. A lot of bandits I only vaguely remembered, and the three horses. And of course, Dr. Grenwood, Mr. Newberry, and Mrs. Williams. I didn’t count, but it seemed there were about the same number of bandits as our guard.
Then the last one came into view. Mickelson. The second I saw his wavy-haired head rising above the men around him, I imagined the look my parents must have had on their faces when Mickelson told them I was dead.
Then something white caught my eye. We were almost too far away to see it.
“Aaren,” I whispered. “On Mickelson’s belt. Isn’t that your mom’s bag?” The bag was about eight inches wide, and about that tall after the top was cinched shut. It was the bag Dr. Grenwood carried at her waist whenever she didn’t carry the rest of her medical supplies.
“Yeah,” Aaren whispered back. “I bet the Ameiphus is in—”
Aaren was cut off by shouting from the bandits. We held our breath to listen.
“Footprints! There’s footprints,” one of the men at the front of the line yelled as he gestured toward where we had all stood by the barn.
Since the snow had just fallen, they knew the footprints were from today, but the bandits hadn’t gotten close enough for Clive and Lee to reach them with the blow darts. The bandits moved their line into clumps, drew their guns, and aimed them in the direction our guards hid. From the back of the line, Mickelson gave orders I couldn’t quite make out, and the men moved up the path and searched for our guard.
When they neared the bushes at the end of the Romaneks’ yard, one of the bandits fell to the ground, probably from Clive’s blow dart. Mickelson shouted more orders. Some bandits took shots, others ran for cover, and a group of five rushed toward the Kearneys’ shed.
The twang of bowstrings, the whiz and thwack of arrows, the crack of gunshots, people shouting, and horses whinnying all carried through the crisp air. Men from both sides moved so much, it was hard to tell who was a bandit and who was our guard. A volley of arrows from our guard took down a few bandits, but people fell to the ground everywhere. By the urgency in Stott’s voice, things weren’t going as planned. It was chaos. I couldn’t tell how many men lying on the ground were from White Rock. I couldn’t even tell who was winning.
A movement downhill drew my attention. Mickelson and the other bandit who was always with him were sneaking away from the fight, toward the community center. I gasped. “The horses!” I said as I pointed in their direction. “They’re going back down to the horses to escape!”
The guard and the bandits were so caught up in the battle, no one noticed the two men leaving. I yelled as loud as I could, “Stott! Stott!” But the noise from the battle was too loud, and we were too far away. There wasn’t a chance in the world he’d hear me.
“If they get to the horses,” Brock said, “they can ride up through the woods and take the road to the mines. They’d bypass the fighting and get away.”
“Stott!” I screamed. I stood on top of the roof and waved my arms. “Stott!”
Aaren put a hand on my leg. “They’ll never get to them in time.”
I watched as Mickelson and the other man disappeared behind the tall bushes. Aaren was right. Even if Stott could hear me, the fighting was happening a lot farther up the tram path than where Mickelson and the other bandit were. The guard would never catch them in time. Nothing we had done mattered.
I stood on the roof, feeling more helpless than ever. I’d thought that by going to Browning to get our guard, we’d save our town. But they weren’t saved. Mickelson was still getting away with the Ameiphus.
“We have to do something,” I said as I slid off the roof into a bank of snow. Aaren and Brock scrambled down after me. We all untied our snowshoes from our backs and put them on.
Brock pulled his bale grabber from my bag and said to Aaren, “I saw a bin of coal by the fireplace for your slingshot.”
Aaren took off into the house and called out, “Go! I’ll catch up.”
I ran as fast as I could toward the tram path; then I remembered the grain tram. I’d noticed it was lodged in the snow along the path. It would make getting to the community center a lot faster. I told Brock about the tram as we ran. He said, “Get it unstuck. I’ll be there in a minute.” Then he veered to the left.
When I got to the path, I turned right without even looking toward the sounds of the fight. The battle was the guard’s problem. Mine was in front of me, and he was much farther down the path than I’d hoped. I found the tram a couple hundred yards down, grabbed the platform, and gave it a hard tug. It wasn’t until Aaren’s hands joined mine on the third tug that it came free from the bank and hung from its ropes in the middle of the path.
Brock ran toward us with a coil of rope in his hands that he must have grabbed from a barn. As Brock got closer, I called out, “One … two … three!” We all jumped onto the platform of the tram at the same time, and the sudden weight launched it down the path.
The wind rushed past as we sped along, snow billowing out behind us. I sat with my legs hanging over the short wall in the front so my snowshoes were out of the way, and put my hands on the brakes. We needed speed to catch up, but I didn’t want to hit the ending pole, either.
The bandits pounded through the snow ahead of us, nearing the horses. The sounds of the battle behind us and their running must have covered the sounds of the tram, because they didn’t notice us. We’d been on the path for less than a minute and were already two-thirds of the way down. I leaned forward to make us go even faster.
Several hundred yards ahead, the horses stood to the left of the tram path, in the open space just before the ditch and the shops that circled the community center. If we went as far as the tram would go, it would take us past the horses, the ditch, and the buildings and land us right on the road. I set my sights on the buildings, because nothing else would block us from a bullet. It meant we’d pass by Mickelson and the other bandit, but I hoped we’d go by so fast they couldn’t get us.
As we neared the last upright post before the horses, I positioned my feet on the brakes, but it didn’t matter. The rope for the last section wasn’t tight. The tram sagged and we went slower and slower until it lodged itself in the snow. Unfortunately, the bandit with Mickelson chose that moment to glance back.
“Hey!” the man yelled, and by the look of surprise on Mickelson’s face when he turned, I guessed he actually thought we had died. We jumped off the tram and ran as fast as we could toward the buildings. We had snowshoes, but they had longer legs. We could tell we’d never make it to the buildings, so as soon as we reached the ditch, we dove into it.
It blocked us from them, but we knew it wouldn’t save us for long.
“The guy with Mickelson used all his bullets before they left the fight,” Brock said. “I didn’t see Mickelson, though.”
Aaren pulled his slingshot out of his bag as we
hunched down in the ditch. “I did. He didn’t fire a single shot.”
I poked my head up, then ducked just as quickly when I saw the bandits running toward us, less than twenty-five feet away. “There’s no way he gave all the bullets to his men,” I said. “He has some.”
Brock uncoiled his bale grabber and shortened it as much as it would go, while Aaren gave me his schoolbag of coal and asked me to keep handing him one piece at a time. He stood up and shot piece after piece of coal with his slingshot, faster than I’d ever seen him shoot. I could barely keep up with him. Each shot made the two bandits move away from each other.
Mickelson stayed back, but the other man inched closer, trying to reach us. Brock swung the ends of his bale grabber around and around while I kept handing coal to Aaren.
“Now,” Aaren said, his lips barely moving.
Brock stood up and flung his bale grabber toward the man. The grabber wrapped around his legs, and the man fell to the ground. He cursed as he struggled to free himself.
“Cover me,” Brock said as he grabbed the rope from the ground and ran to the man.
I hesitated, not knowing if I should run forward to help Brock tie up the bandit or continue handing coal to Aaren so he could keep Mickelson away from Brock.
Mickelson stood close enough that I saw a vein in his forehead bulge as he ground his teeth. He had always been so calm and in control. I wasn’t sure which scared me worse—the Purposeful Mickelson, or this Out-of-Control Mickelson.
I should have ducked. I should have run. I should have hid. Something. Instead, I froze like I had stone legs as Mickelson raised his gun and aimed it right at me.
Maybe my entire body turned to stone, because I couldn’t breathe. Or hear the yelling from Brock and Aaren. I just stared into Mickelson’s eyes, petrified.
Sky Jumpers Series, Book 1 Page 15
