by B. C. Tweedt
He opened it. “Balls!”
Jarryd laughed. “Thought you might need them,” he said with a wink. But then he remembered something and jerked to caution Greyson. “But don’t drop them!”
Greyson held one of the ball-bearings up, inspecting it. It wasn’t all silver like the rest of his slingshot ammunition. This one was marbled with black, silver, and white. “What is it?”
“That’s a Magic Hate Ball. Makes you disappear in smoke.”
“No way!”
“Yeah, man. But there’s more. The white one’s magnetized and sends a spurt of energy through anything electronic. Knocks it dead. I call it a PulseyCat.”
Greyson laughed, already starting to arrange them in his combat vest pouches.
“And the red BallBoom – well, it explodes.”
Holding one at arm length, Greyson eyed Jarryd. “Really?”
“Like I said. Don’t drop it.”
Still nervous, Greyson tenderly put it in another pouch. “How long have you been working on this?” Greyson asked.
He shrugged. “A few months. There’s no metal in them by the way. Murray and I 3D printed what we could, then added the other components. He actually came up with the idea for bullets, but I asked for a more rounded version. Didn’t say it was for you.”
“That’s so cool.” He looked at Jarryd, who was looking at his shoes. “I gotta be honest. I never thought that you…well…I thought that you were, a little – what’s the right way to say it…learning disabled?”
Jarryd scoffed. “I know, right? I did, too! But something about the chemicals and the explosives just clicks. It all comes together in my head – and the payoff is like, right away. Boom!”
Greyson gave him a fist pound. “Thanks, again.”
Jarryd lunged at him in a full hug, a huge smile on his face. “No problem, Bro. Had to help.”
After the hug, silence descended as they glanced between the mountains and their shoes. Usually there was so much to talk about, but Jarryd turned quiet. Greyson knew why, but he couldn’t bring it up. Instead, he waited until Jarryd did.
“I dare you to come back.”
Greyson turned to him, though Jarryd couldn’t make eye contact.
“Okay?” Jarryd asked. “Asher’s cool, but he’s like six or something.”
“Eight.”
“Whatever. And Avery’s the best, but she has this thing where she’s like, a girl, and all female.”
Laughing, Greyson set his backpack down.
“So I’m kind of ridin’ solo out here.”
Greyson nodded at him. “I’ll come back, dude. Don’t worry.”
WHUP-WHUP-WHUP-WHUP!
They felt the wind and the drumbeats of the blades before they saw the helicopter rise from below the cliff, Diablo sitting on the edge of the cargo area, his rifle draped across his lap and a judgmental stare within his skeleton mask.
Avery and Asher came running toward the noise with Kit in the lead, barking until he came to Greyson’s side.
“Ready, Orphan?” Forge yelled from the side.
“Just a sec!”
He hugged Avery and smiled at her. There had always been a peculiar tension between them, like they shared something private without knowing what it was. But he didn’t mind. “Be safe,” she said with a smirk.
“Never.” He gave her a second look, finding it hard to turn from her beauty before kneeling by Asher. The first thing the boy did was hold up a red hat. “You forgot this.”
Sighing, Greyson took it from him. “You went in my hut again? I told you…”
“I didn’t want you to forget anything!”
Suddenly he couldn’t speak. Memories swept over him – ones he’d tried hard to hide. Memories of leaving and being left behind. He hated the memories – all of them. The anger rushed to his head, but Asher’s face was hard to be angry at. Instead, he took the hat, straightened it out, and fit it over Asher’s head. “Keep it safe for me?”
It was too big for him, pressing the tops of his ears down. But his smile kept it up. “Sure! You won’t need it?”
He shook his head. “No, I…”
“Take the hat, Orphan!” Forge yelled. “We want them to recognize you!”
Asher pulled it off and set it on Greyson’s head. “Guess you do.” Then the boy hugged Kit and whispered in his ear. “Lick the good ones, bite the bad ones.”
SmokeStack whistled and Kit jumped from the cliff to the inside of the heli. Diablo grabbed his side, helping him in.
WHUP-WHUP-WHUP-WHUP!
Greyson watched as the helicopter continued to hover, picking up his backpack and throwing it to Diablo. The heli’s landing rail scraped along the top of the cliff’s edge, making the jump just a step.
As he stepped on the rail, he turned to Jarryd, Avery, and Asher and waved. “Bye, guys.”
“Bye, G! Have fun in Tex-Sucks!”
Asher took the stance of shooting a slingshot and winked at Greyson. Greyson returned their ritual motion, shooting his love at the kid with a wink.
The heli jerked away and his friends shrunk until they were ants among giant anthills. And then the clouds made them disappear altogether.
WHUP-WHUP-WHUP-WHUP!
He felt his friends’ absence like a sudden jab to his gut. They had been there one moment, like they had been every day for a year at camp, and now they were gone, hidden by clouds and four miles every minute.
It especially hurt to leave the boy.
Had it even hurt my father?
He took in a deep breath and sat with Kit at his feet, just thinking for a good ten minutes before Forge interrupted his thoughts with business. They talked for hours, filling in all the gaps, programming Liam, calibrating his goggles, and sorting the items in his fanny pack and combat vest.
Forge fished through his own pack and came out with a pair of black gloves. He handed them to Greyson. “A little upgrade for you.”
Greyson removed the glove from his scarred hand and traded it for one of the new ones. “Feels good. Thanks.”
“This kind won’t feel good on an enemy. They’re Vulcanz. Place three finger contacts on a man’s body, the other two together to trigger the pulse - the closer to his heart, the more effective it is. He’ll be down for at least two minutes.”
After thanking him, there wasn’t much left to do but watch the landscape ripple underneath.
Eventually dusk snuck over the horizon, and they descended not far above a set of power lines, zooming over rolling hills, low enough to scatter the cattle. Grover took them in a scouting loop before landing in the middle of a field, next to a quaint shed with a hidden fuel tank inside.
Taking advantage of the refueling break, Greyson stretched outside and put on his wingsuit and goggles, reading from his mini-map that they weren’t far from a highway just inside Texas. The others geared up as well, checking and re-checking their weapons.
He hoped they wouldn’t need them, but he knew they needed to be prepared. He did too. He stretched his slingshot’s band and practiced his quickest draw. His scarred shoulder was a little tight – a little weaker than his other, but it was strong. He reviewed his new slingshot ammunition, rotating them around his scarred palm. His hand still didn’t feel right. Maybe it never would.
“A slingshot? Seriously?”
Greyson turned to SmokeStack, who was flicking a lighter on a cigar. “Yeah. So?”
“We aren’t bringing a kid to fight. If it was up to me…”
“Well, it wasn’t.”
A skeptical glint, like the lighter’s flame, shimmered in SmokeStack’s eyes as he lit his cigar, took a puff, and walked away with a scoff.
Grover passed in the other direction and made a tornado with his finger. “Load up.”
Again they were airborne, zooming over the rolling hills of green where billboards rose, pointing at the highway, shooting their messages at defenseless drivers.
&nb
sp; Greyson leaned outside, contemplating the jump that loomed ever closer. It would be one of the most frightening and dangerous things he would ever do. Sure, he was afraid. But there was something dampening his fear.
Rubicon. They were with him. They were on his team and he on theirs. This was new. Past adventures he had been reacting, guessing, hoping he was doing the right thing. But now he was with the best of the best. The bravest. And they were taking the fight to the enemy. Acting instead of reacting. To have Rubicon was in fact turning his fear into something altogether different. He was exhilarated. Happy. And more daring than ever.
No matter what SmokeStack thought – he was ready.
He let the wind push at his goggles and flap the gaiter around his neck. Kit joined him by the edge and together they smiled at the scenery below, ready for the adventure to follow.
But a billboard caught his eye as they gained altitude. It was alone on the top of a terraced hill, rising above a dilapidated wooden fence. Though it was only dusk, the vast red words were lit from underneath. Greyson’s eyes scoured it, even reading the smaller print underneath, saying it was a message from Peace At All Costs.
THERE IS NO SUCH THING
AS A “CIVIL” WAR.
The message was sobering. It was odd to think that anyone needed convincing of its truth. Who was driving on these roads who needed to hear it? But then again, he realized they had traveled into what could very well be ARC territory. In a week these rolling hills could be a different country – an enemy of America.
He read the sign again, a deep sadness sinking to his gut as the helicopter rose higher and higher, leaving the sign below as it headed to Dallas.
Part III
Chapter 28
Sometime in the future
The figure watching the television leaned forward in his chair, putting his elbows on his knees. The boy on the television was also leaning forward on his tree-trunk seat. “Kip was my bodyguard. He stayed…”
“Was he FBI?” asked the gruff voice somewhere off-screen.
“Yeah. He stayed with me and my mom after Morris.”
“He was supposed to protect you, from Emory?”
The boy nodded with a shrug. “That’s what I thought. Turned out I was bait.”
“How so?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. He brought me to the fair. He was hoping Emory would be there and I would…I would draw him out.”
“Did you?”
The boy’s pace quickened to match his thoughts. “Kip was trying to protect me, I think. But I snuck away. I thought something was going on with the tiki torches, and I had to find out what. Then I found him.”
“Emory?”
The boy gave an affirmative nod.
“The most wanted man in the world. You just found him?”
There was a pause, and a breeze ruffled in the camera’s microphone as the boy spoke toward his feet. “Mom said I was like dad.” And then he gazed ahead with surrender. “I have a habit of finding trouble, or it has a habit of finding me.”
Chapter 29
Three hours later
Greyson fell toward the lake of dark clouds and splashed inside without stopping. The clouds wisped around him, churning, parting for his dive until he descended beneath their underside, emerging into a starless sky above Dallas.
The fear and excitement churned inside his heart as his guts sloshed in a panic. But despite the adrenaline, he had to focus on his descent. He was thankful for his HUD’s holographic path-line that appeared to float in air, giving him the perfect trajectory to his target landing. For now, he followed it as it descended in a slope toward the darkened skyscrapers, but he saw where an exclamation point marked the point where he should pull his chute. It was uncomfortably close to the landing.
Diablo’s dark, sprawled shape was below, nearly to the chute deployment. At least he would show him how it’s done.
There was a sudden wetness behind Greyson’s ears, and for a moment he thought it had been the cloud’s moisture; but then he felt the tongue again. Kit’s flopping tongue on his neck.
He tried to turn to see the dog, but he couldn’t. He only felt his warmth against his back, strapped in tight. He knew from their practice runs that Kit looked ridiculous with goggles over his eyes – his doggles, as Forge called them.
“Hang on, boy! Almost there!”
[Prepare to deploy,] Forge said through his earpiece.
Greyson readied his hand on the strap as the exclamation point approached. He watched Diablo pull his chute and swerve toward the landing.
The skyscrapers loomed closer and closer, seeming to grow taller. He eyed his landing zone – such a small area, with no room for error.
He sucked in a gasp of air, waiting. Waiting.
Pull!
He yanked the pilot chute and everything happened fast.
The black chute swelled above him. It yanked on his harness, dangled him in the air and threw him toward the skyscraper.
All of a sudden it was there.
He punched through the escape sleeves and pulled hard on the risers. His hands acted faster than he could control – out of instinct. His path corrected, swerving in line with the holographic path as it lowered to the landing.
But the line descended faster than he was. He was too high. A gust blew up from below. He fought against it as he crossed over the lip of the building, his legs running in air but missing the ground. A panicked glance saw the far edge approaching too fast. He was going to overshoot!
And then something snagged his ankle, pulling him down. In an instant he knew it was Diablo.
Before he could react, his feet were on the ground and his arm firmly in the grip of the soldier. He didn’t even have time to thank him. Diablo was too engrossed in the mission, pulling their chutes in, unlatching Kit, and securing the area with rifle in hand.
Greyson could only breathlessly pet Kit as Diablo disabled the security panel by the roof’s access door. The red light blinked to green, and they were in.
“Stay close,” Diablo said.
Greyson eyed the sky above as his heart pounded, suddenly in awe of what he had just done. There had been no congratulations, no pause to reflect or rest. This was only the first leg of a long, dangerous mission. There was no time for that.
When Diablo disappeared in the doorway, Greyson gave Kit a look, took a deep breath, and followed.
-------------------------------
The headlights swept through the window’s drapes, bright enough to wake the lightest sleeper in Katelyn’s room. But no one was sleeping. Sydney was sitting on the floor with Katelyn behind, braiding her hair. The headlights didn’t affect Katelyn. She kept humming and braiding. But Sydney glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10pm.
“Is that your dad?” Sydney asked.
“Yup.”
“He works this late?”
“This is kinda early for him. But don’t worry, he probably won’t care if you’re here.”
“Probably?”
Katelyn laughed. “What? You scared?”
Sydney was about to reassure her that she had nothing to be afraid of when Katelyn continued, “He’s a teddy bear; but he’s a strict teddy bear. Just stay in my room and he’ll never know you were here. He’ll probably be gone by the time we get up.”
The braids grew longer as Sydney listened to reverberations of the garage door closing. Katelyn hummed along as her fingers played with the strands, but Sydney was listening for the door – for footsteps. But there weren’t any.
“Did he come inside?” she whispered.
Katelyn leaned around to look at Sydney. “You really are afraid of him, huh?”
“I just don’t like breaking rules – and if he doesn’t want me here…”
“You don’t break any rules?”
She fought hard not to look nervous. “I try not to.”
“Good. Me neither,” she snickered.
“’Cept the dumb ones.”
A few minutes later Sydney reviewed her hair in a mirror and smiled. “Thank you!”
A door opened and shut inside the house, and Katelyn laughed at Sydney’s reaction. “He stays in the garage talking on his phone or listening to the radio. I can’t tell which, but he gets all pissy if you barge in on him.” She hunched to whisper in her ear. “Mom thinks he’s having an affair.”
Sydney was lost in thought, and she knew Jeremy and Harper would be on the other side of her ear buds. There was something very suspicious there. And they hadn’t tapped the garage before. It could be what they had been missing.
She had to find out.
“Jordan’s a perv, too,” Katelyn said, undoing her bed. “Sounds like Dad, acts like Dad. Got Dad’s genes for sure. And I think he’s got an eye on you.”
Sydney puffed her pillow and slid inside her sleeping bag. “That’s scary,” she whispered.
“For real,” Katelyn said, crawling under her covers. “He’s a creep. But you’re safe with me. I kick his butt, like three times a day.”
Sydney’s laugh was hampered by her fear. The path to the garage went right by Jordan’s room. It was scary all right, but it had to be done. Greyson was undercover in Dallas and there was going to be an attack soon. If she could find anything out, now was the time.
“Sweet dreams,” Katelyn whispered in her best creeper voice as she reached to the lamp, found the switch, and turned off the light.
-------------------------------
Greyson scooted backward on the tile, pushing broken glass from its place as he planted his back against the wall. The store’s window was broken above him, allowing the armored personnel carrier’s spotlight to pour inside, lighting the diner’s counter and its relics of the fifties adorning its walls. The broken glass rattled on the tile. Abandoned dishware shook in hidden cabinets. And a powered-down Liam wobbled at his feet. Above it all, Greyson’s nerves were rattled.
