“Mamie, for someone so sweet and honest, you’re better at this cover story stuff than I am,” I said. “Thanks. For everything.”
Will leaned forward and winked. “I called shotgun.”
I held the car door open for Ella, grinning at him over the top of her head. Will made a good wingman.
“Shouldn’t I be helping you into the car since you got stabbed a few days ago?” Ella asked.
“Nah, I’m good.” I climbed in and showed her my new scar, which had healed into a thin, white line. “See, just a scratch.”
Ella ran her fingers along my side, whispering, “Girls like battle scars…you know that, right?”
I took a chance we weren’t being watched and kissed her. “I was counting on it.”
That night, I ate dinner at home. Mom served meatloaf while arguing with Brent about cleaning up his room. Mamie asked when she’d be getting her own car. Mom wanted all the details about my “ski trip.” Brent talked about the Washington State football training camp he’d go to over the summer. I listened to every word, soaking it all in. I’d never really appreciated how wonderfully normal my life was.
Time to pay more attention.
* * *
Just before school let out for summer break, Colonel Black called to ask if Mamie could drive me to the airport early the following Saturday morning.
“General Richardson, the senior officer for the entire monster program, wants to meet you. He’s coming to Fort Carson this weekend. Think you can sneak away for the day?”
“Of course,” I said.
I knew I should enjoy the slow times. Who knew when I’d get the next timeout in this game of chicken with the forces of evil? The monsters might be gone, but the war wasn’t over, not by a long-shot. Now that Will and I had taken out the last Bear, though, I was antsy for a little action, even if it was only meeting a General. So I flew to Colorado aboard a Black Hawk, laughing when I realized I was bored halfway through the flight. Kind of weird the things I took for granted now.
After I arrived at Fort Carson, Colonel Black brought me into the office General Richardson was borrowing from the base commander. It had dark wood paneling and smelled like forty-year-old cigarette smoke. The general sat behind a huge, green metal desk, chewing on an unlit cigar which added its own aroma to the stale tobacco smell.
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to salute indoors so I just stuck out my hand as he stood up to greet us. General Richardson wasn’t very tall, but his presence more than made up for it. So did his head—it was way too big for his body. He had a big voice, too, and he used it. He pumped my hand harder than necessary, booming out, “Matt Archer! Darn good to meet you, darn good. Have a seat, young man.”
I rubbed my ears, which were ringing from all the bellowing. “Thank you, sir.”
The colonel and I plopped down into dark-red leather chairs with wooden arms that were filled in with matching leather panels, like the ones you see in fancy restaurants. The colonel crossed his legs. I copied him. If I was talking to the brass, I should do things right.
“So, you ever been to the Australian Outback?” General Richardson asked.
My pulse sped up. “No, sir, but I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Thought that might be the case,” the general said. “We need your help. Your mother is going to get a visit next week. One of my people will come meet with her, claiming you’ve been selected for a gifted-and-talented program through the school district, and that you’ve won an all-expense-paid trip to Sydney. Don’t worry, we’ll make it look legit—website, references, the whole bit. We’re pretty good at these things, you know, and the man I’m sending to speak with her can play the part well. I think you know him—Specialist Davis?”
I tried to swallow a laugh and made myself cough. Colonel Black whacked me on the back. “Archer knows Davis, sir. He conducted Archer’s equipment training last fall, and he’s the right man for the job. Thoroughly believable as a straight-laced educator.”
“Complete with the stick up his butt,” I whispered. The colonel gave me a sideways glance and I canned it.
“Anyway, you’ll ship out in July,” General Richardson continued. “We’re planning on a month-long op. The Australian Army will provide some military support, but Major Ramirez’s team will deploy with you, along with Lieutenant Johnson and Master Sergeant Schmitz.”
“And Cruessan,” I said, thinking fast. “Will comes this time. I’m sure Specialist Davis can convince his parents, too.”
He’d earned this trip as much as I had. I figured asking if Ella could come along, sharing my tent of course, would be pushing it. But Will? Will was going, or I wasn’t.
Colonel Black jumped in. “Cruessan has been a very effective assistant to Archer. If we want to finish the Dingoes off fast, then we need everyone.” He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows once. “These boys are a part of my team, sir. Cruessan should go. Besides, it would give us a chance to put him through some formal training, like we did for Archer.”
The general steepled his fingers together and rocked back and forth in his big chair. “All right, I’ll see what I can do.”
I sat up straighter, trying not to whoop and holler. Will and me, in Australia? Hell, yeah! Maybe we could smuggle back a kangaroo. His parents would never notice it hopping around their backyard.
“Thank you, sir.”
The general nodded, bobbing his big head. “Least I can do. In all seriousness, good job out there, son. I’d like to talk about a bonus of some kind. We’ve been holding your pay in an interest-bearing account, but…”
“Wait, my pay?” I asked. What pay? I was a knife wielder; I had a duty. Just like Jorge said.
“Matt, you and Cruessan are military contractors,” Colonel Black said with a hint of amusement. “You’ll be compensated for your time. The problem is your age.”
When I gave them both confused looks, General Richardson said, “You’re fifteen, son…we’re violating a whole host of child-labor laws. We could find ways around that and the tax issues, but we’d rather avoid a congressional audit if we can help it. When you turn sixteen, we’ll turn control of the account over to you.”
I had money in a secret account somewhere? Wow. “Thank you, sir.”
“No, Archer, thank you,” the general said. “But even if we can’t give you the money yet, I think you deserve a bonus for Montana and Peru. I’m close to the President; I’m sure we can work out a gift of some kind. All you have to do is ask.”
Wild visions raced through my head—Ella and the tent at the top of the list. “Anything?”
“Well, don’t ask to visit the International Space Station. That’s not even within the President’s reach.” The general guffawed at his own joke. “But maybe a ride along in a fighter jet during a training flight, or we could let you drive a tank, an Abrams, and shoot the guns. Or an Apache attack chopper. That’s a pretty sweet ride.”
I shrugged. “I’ve ridden in a helicopter bunches of times and I’ve already been in a fighter jet. Not sure I want to do that again anytime soon.”
“And you’ll get some Humvee time in the Outback,” the colonel added. “We can let you and Cruessan both take the wheel some. Not much to crash into out there and those things are practically indestructible for regular driving. Safest Driver’s Ed course you’ll ever have.”
The general looked crestfallen, like Colonel Black had stolen his thunder. “Well, surely there’s something we can do for you. The nation owes you a debt, Mr. Archer.”
Colonel Black smiled and gave me a tiny nod. “We do. Whatever you want.”
My heart skipped a beat or two as I caught on to what he was saying. I could ask for that? “Well, General, there is one thing….”
Epilogue
June
“Matt, stop fidgeting. Pacing won’t make this go any faster,” Mom said. She was as nervous as I was, and she took it out on me by nagging. I flung myself down in a chair next to her.
The ai
rport was quiet this late. The flight from Chicago had been delayed to Billings due to thunderstorms, so we twiddled our thumbs at baggage claim. Only a few other people waited with us. One set was an older couple who had the look of grandparents awaiting the grandkids. The other was an unbelievably hot woman who kept glancing at her watch. She had long dark hair and big brown eyes, and she wore a skirt that showed off great legs. Brent and I took turns checking her out on the sly.
“Would you two stop gawking at that poor lady?” Mamie said.
Mom’s mouth twitched, like she was trying not to laugh. “Mamie’s right. Quit staring; it’s impolite. Besides, the plane’s here.”
Passengers from the Chicago flight came pouring out the doors to baggage claim, looking tired and a little airsick. We jumped to our feet and Mamie held her sign up. She’d made it out of a bright-green poster board with “Welcome Home Uncle Mike” painted on it in glitter and sparkles.
“Think he’ll like it?” she asked.
“Just what a returning war hero needs—glitter and sparkles.” I said, then ducked as she tried to smack me upside the head with the poster board.
“I see him,” Brent said, interrupting the ruckus.
Mamie waved her sign like crazy and Mom stood, a grin spreading across her face. My stomach soared. I’d waited for this day for six months. It was even better that I hadn’t had to wait a year. It had taken General Richardson several weeks to come through on his promise, but here we were. Finally.
Mike pushed through the door. His muscles were bigger than ever and he was darkly tanned, his skin brown against the sand-colored BDUs he wore. He set his duffel bag down and gave us all a long look. He laughed when he saw me.
“Chief, you weren’t lying about getting tall.”
I nodded, not sure how to answer him. Kind of awkward, but what do you do or say after being separated for six months? None of us seemed to know. Mike shifted from foot-to-foot, glancing around baggage claim, as if reminding himself what home was like. Then his eyes fixed on something and he gasped. Before we could ask what was up, he walked away without another word.
All of us turned around, jaws dropped, wondering where in the world he was going. The lady Brent and I had been checking out jumped to her feet, a huge smile on her face. Mike threw his arms around her, leaned her backward and gave her a big kiss.
Mom squeaked out a hysterical giggle.
“Oh, my God, he’s gone crazy,” Mamie whispered. “What’s he thinking, kissing a strange woman in the airport?”
“Mamie, don’t be stupid,” Brent said. He called out to Mike, “Yo, Unc, where did you find a woman in Afghanistan?”
Mike let the lady go. She laughed and cried while trying to wipe lipstick off his mouth. “Um, this is Julie, everyone, Julie Hunter. My fiancée.” He kissed Julie again. “I can’t believe you’re here!”
Mom staggered their direction, us in tow, and said, “You mean there’s a woman on God’s green earth brave enough to marry you, Mike?”
“Yeah, finally.” He wrapped his arms around Julie, looking all gooey. Brent made a gagging noise behind me. I tended to agree. Adult PDA was gross.
Mom wasn’t done scolding yet. Looking a little hurt, she said, “And you didn’t tell us? Michael!”
“I just asked her two weeks ago. By then I was on my way home, so I thought I’d tell you in person,” he said. “I didn’t know she’d be here to welcome me back. Honest.”
Mom gave him “the stare,” then held out her hand to Julie. “I’m Dani, this idiot’s older sister.”
Julie shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Then we all stood there, staring at each other, until Brent said, “Well, that’s enough family togetherness for me for one night. Nice to meet you, too, Aunt Julie. I’m going out to the car.” That made everyone laugh and Brent waved at us as he left the building, phone already out to text his girlfriend.
While Mom grilled Julie about her life history, Uncle Mike pulled me aside. “Thanks for bringing me home, Chief. I mean that. I was shocked when General Richardson’s office called.”
“Well, if I’d known she was waiting for you, I would’ve asked sooner.” I gave Mike the stink-eye. “But Brent’s right. Where’d you find her? If you tell me a dating website, I’m gonna hurl.”
“Hardly. I met her on tour. You know that web conference I had with you and Mamie? Julie’s the one who interrupted us.” He leaned in close and we both stared at his fiancée. She was so hot, it was kind of hard not to. “I was late for a briefing, so she came to get me.”
“Ah, now the flirting makes sense. I wondered about that,” I said. “But what was she doing over there with you?”
He smiled. “She’s Military Intelligence. Desertflower424—remember? The Twitter accounts were her idea.”
“M.I?” I said. “Her? She looks like a supermodel, man.”
“Yeah, but she could also kill both of us with just her thumbs,” Mike said with obvious pride.
I stole another glance at my soon-to-be aunt. She waggled a thumb at me behind Mom’s back, and winked. I got lightheaded. Whether from the idea that Julie could kill me with her bare hands or from her smile, I didn’t know.
“She couldn’t have heard us, could she?”
“She reads lips, Matt. Most spies do.”
“Wait…you’re telling me that you came home to a lip-reading, mutant-thumbed, supermodel spy?”
“Yep,” he said. “I’ve met my match, I’ll tell you that right now.”
“No doubt.” A smile spread across my face. Badass Aunt Julie had a nice ring to it. “Hey, you finally did what I said.”
Mike laughed. “Yeah. I found a wife.”
Acknowledgements
Preparing to publish a novel doesn’t happen in a vacuum, and I’ve been very fortunate to have significant assistance, encouragement and support from a large group of people while bringing Matt Archer to life. I owe my most humble thanks to:
My editor, Cassandra Marshall, for her swift turnaround and keen eye.
My cover, webpage and interior layout designer, Glendon Haddix and the Streetlight Graphics team, for amazing artwork and technical support.
The best group of critique partners a girl could have: J.R. Hochman, Lindsay Buroker, Crash Froelich, Elizabeth Hull, Jeanne Haskin, Liz Coley, Ladonna Watkins, Stefanie DuBois, and Kristen Pham. Y’all read this book, from beginning to end, more than once. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your help, insight and humor.
The Online Writers’ Workshop for Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror and the great readers I met there, including, but not limited to: Gio, Erin, Lisa, Michael, Laura, Brit, Bobbie, Corie, and the wonderful Lorraine McKay, my first workshop friend, who taught me the ropes for navigating OWW as well as how to critique.
My beta readers: Ryan Highley, Arthur Stewart and Kristi McAndrew.
My tween/teen beta readers, who taught me a lot about my target audience: Simon, Eric, Rachel—y’all rock! And Tanner, thanks for being Matt’s number one fan.
My father, for teaching me to love books before I could even read and for helping me bring Matt Archer into the world.
My mother, who we lost much too soon, but not before telling me at the tender age of fifteen that I should write a book. It may’ve taken twenty years, Mom, but the idea stuck.
My sister, Kristi (aka my fiercest supporter), who even asked her book club to read for me.
My children, Tanner and Alexandra, for being so patient and good-natured about seeing their mom roam around the house talking to herself before dashing off to her laptop. Your love and enthusiasm means the world to me. So does your willingness to scrounge for clean socks when I get behind in the laundry.
Finally, my husband, Ryan, who made my dream happen. This book is as much yours as mine.
About the Author
Kendra C. Highley lives in north Texas with her husband and two children. She also serves as staff to two self-important and high-powered cats. This, accor
ding to the cats, is her most important job. She believes chocolate is a basic human right, running a 10k is harder than it sounds, and that everyone should learn to drive a stick-shift. She loves monsters, vacations, baking and listening to bad electronica.
More information about the Matt Archer universe, works in progress and the nature of the Higgs Boson* can be found at www.kendrachighley.com
(*Yeah…not really. We’ll let the scientists handle that part.)
Twitter: www.twitter.com/kendrahighley
Facebook: www.facebook.com/kchighley
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