Young Adventurers

by Austin S. Camacho

  “Levi?”

  “Would you believe they came back again tonight?”

  Jack felt his heart rate kick into high gear. “They took the bait?”

  “Hook, line, and sinkhole. Figured since it was your idea, you oughta come see. We got the car. Wanna?”

  “Be right there.”

  He pulled on jeans and a rugby shirt, stepped into his Vans, then unlatched the screen and slipped into the night. Levi led him around the corner to where Elvin and Saree were waiting in the buggy, Saree behind the wheel–no, wrench. Her white hair looked silver in the moonlight. They hopped in and Saree took off without a word. At least she couldn’t stare at him.

  The Pines were practically in Jack’s backyard, but she entered along a path he didn’t know. She made seemingly random turns through the trees but seemed to know where she was going. Finally she stopped in a small clearing.

  “Gotta walk from here,” Levi said, “else they’ll hear us.”

  The four of them hopped out and this time Saree led the way, single file, down a deer path.

  “They fell for it, Jack,” Levi said from behind him. “Just like you said. I never would’ve thought of that in a million years. You got a twisted mind. I like that.”

  Jack enjoyed the praise, but thought the solution had been obvious. Whoever had dumped those barrels didn’t know the Pines, otherwise he wouldn’t have needed to post reflectors. So Jack’s idea had been to move the reflectors off the path to the dumping ground and onto a path that led to the cripple instead.

  He heard angry voices before he saw anyone. Saree slowed her pace and gradually a glow began to grow through the trunks. They crouched as they neared the treeline. Jack peeked through the underbrush and saw a flatbed truck angled nose down into the cripple. Its headlights were still on and its motor running. A blue tarp covered whatever was stacked in its bed. Its front end sat bumper deep in the water and its rear wheels had dug ruts in the soil from trying to reverse its way out.

  One man was cursing and swearing as he stood in the two-foot-deep water and pushed against the front grille while another gunned the engine and spun the tires.

  “Now that we’ve got them,” Jack said, “what do we do with them? Call the sheriff?”

  Levi shook his head. “No way. We bring in some grownups. They’ll take care of them.”

  “Take care of them how?”

  “Piney justice.”

  Piney justice…Jack had heard about that. He was going to say something, but right then the one in the water gave up pushing and slammed a hand on the hood.

  “Ain’t gonna happen, Tony!”

  Tony–dark, heavyset with a thick mustache–jumped out and began kicking the water in a rage.

  “Save it, man,” said the other guy as he splashed past him, heading toward the rim of the cripple. “We’re gonna have to offload this stuff to get outa here.”

  “How’d this happen, Sammy? We marked the trail!”

  “Must’ve made a wrong turn. Or…” He stopped and looked around. “Or somebody moved the markers.”

  Tony stared at him. “Who?”

  “Wise-ass locals, my guess. Probably out there right now having a good laugh.”

  Uh-oh, Jack thought. Time to leave.

  “Yeah?” Tony reached into the truck cab and pulled out a revolver. “Well, laugh at this!”

  He began firing wildly. One of the slugs zipped through the brush between Jack and Saree, narrowly missing them. Jack froze in terrified shock while Saree let out a shrill yelp of surprise.

  “There!” Sammy shouted, pointing their way.

  Levi yanked on Jack’s arm. “Run!”

  Jack didn’t need to be told twice–or even once. The next half minute became a riot of crouched running, snapping brush and branches, darkness ahead, shouting behind, and then a high-pitched scream that brought everything to an abrupt, panting halt.

  “Saree?” Levi said, looking back. “I thought she was–aw, man, they got Saree!” He turned to Jack. “Go with El for help!”

  “You’re staying?”

  He nodded. “Can’t leave her.”

  Jack wavered. Why had he come here? He wanted to be home. Then Saree screamed again.

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “No way. You go–”

  “Elvin doesn’t need help. Saree does.”

  Elvin was already at the car, starting it up. He wasn’t waiting. That settled it.

  “I don’t get it,” Levi said as he turned and started back toward the cripple.

  “What’s there to get?”

  “You don’t owe her. She’s not kin.”

  Jack couldn’t see what that had to do with anything. He wished he’d stayed in bed, but he was here now.

  “We came together, we leave together.”

  Levi didn’t reply. They were almost back to the cripple.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are,” a voice was singsonging. “We got your ugly girlfriend.”

  Jack peeked through the brush. The moonlight and backwash from the headlights revealed Tony standing on the rim of the cripple by the rear of the truck. He had his gun in one hand and a fistful of Saree’s hair in the other. She looked terrified.

  Sammy, standing a few feet to his right, shouted, “The rest of you get out here now. We ain’t gonna hurt you. Just put you to work. You got us into this mess, so you’re gonna get us out.”

  Jack saw three options. Help was on the way, so until it arrived they either could do nothing, find ways to distract them, or show themselves and do whatever they wanted.

  “Get out here or this could get ugly,” Tony said, twisting Saree’s hair and making her wince. “You don’t wanna see how ugly.”

  Jack winced too, and crossed doing nothing off the list. He decided on distraction. He could always show himself if that didn’t work.

  “Stay here,” he whispered. “Gonna try something.”

  “Wait–” Levi grabbed for his arm but Jack pulled out of reach.

  He moved counterclockwise along the treeline, feeling around the ground until he found a fist-sized hunk of shale.

  Perfect.

  He backed up, cocked his arm, and let fly toward the truck. The rock bounced off the tarp with a gonging sound, then splashed in the water.

  “Son of a bitch!” Sammy yelled, flinching.

  “You guys deaf?” Tony shouted. “Remember what I said about things getting ugly?”

  Oh no. Jack’s gut knotted as he saw Tony yank Saree backward. She lost her balance and fell into the water. Tony stayed with her and held her head under the surface as her arms and legs thrashed and splashed. It was only a couple of feet deep, but plenty enough to drown her.

  “She stays under till you come out!” Tony yelled.

  Jack couldn’t take it. Only option three remained.

  “Okay! Okay!”

  His bladder ached to empty as he jumped out of the bushes with his hands raised.

  To his left Levi also stepped out, hands high, saying, “Let her up!”

  As Sammy started toward them, Tony pointed the gun their way and grinned. “When I’m damn good and ready. You kids–aah!” He dropped the gun and released Saree as he grabbed his right hand with his left. “She broke my finger!”

  Saree sat up, choking and gasping and crying. Jack had seen one of her thrashing arms come near Tony’s hand but no way it touched him. She lurched to her feet and staggered away toward dry ground.

  Tony started after her. “You little–my gun!” He turned and bent, feeling around underwater.

  As Sammy turned to look at his buddy, Jack took off toward Saree. He grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her up the bank of the cripple.

  Sammy started toward them. “Hey–!”

  Suddenly he tripped and fell face first into the water. But instead of rebounding to his feet, he stayed down and began kicking and thrashing as Saree had. He couldn’t seem to get up.

  Tony finally noticed. “What the hell are you d
oing?”

  He started toward Sammy but tripped himself. He went down and stayed down too. Were they stuck in the mud? No, their arms and legs were free. It almost looked like they were being held down. But–

  Jack saw Levi on his knees, white-faced, eyes focused on the men in the cripple. As Jack headed for him, Saree grabbed his arm.

  “Leave Levi be.”

  Jack pulled free. As he neared he could see the boy’s lips pulled back in a snarl. His face and hair dripped sweat, his shirt was soaked, and air hissed between his clenched teeth like he was bench pressing twice his own weight.

  “Levi…?”

  He glanced at Jack and just then the two men in the cripple got their heads back above water. But not for long. Before they could draw a full breath they plunged their faces back beneath the surface.

  And then everything seemed to happen at once. Elvin roared out of the trees in the buggy followed by a pickup full of rough-clothed men with shotguns, Levi let out a breath and slumped forward onto his hands, the two men in the cripple got their heads out of water and sucked air.

  When they caught their breath and looked around they found themselves staring into the headlights of the buggy and the pickup, and down the muzzles of half a dozen shotguns. One of the Piney men, tall with a gray beard and features that looked like they’d been taken apart and put back together wrong, had lifted the tarp and was looking at the barrels hidden beneath.

  “Not good,” he said, shaking his head. “Not good ay-tall.”

  “You don’t wanna mess with us,” Tony said, still panting. “We’re connected, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m right sure of that,” the old Piney said. “And we’ll want to know who to.” He swiveled and his gaze fell on Jack. “Who’s this ’un?”

  “Friend of ours,” Levi said, rising to his feet. He’d caught his breath. “He set the trap.”

  “Well, we’re right grateful for that, but he ain’t one of us. Take him back wherever he came from.”

  “What about them?” Jack said, pointing to Tony and Sammy.

  “You forget about them. We’re all gonna have us a nice chat, then we’ll send ’em home.”

  “But–”

  Levi grabbed his arm and pulled him away. “No questions. Let’s go.”

  Elvin and Saree were already in the buggy. As soon as Jack and Levi settled on the rear couch, Elvin put it in gear and they roared off.

  “What happened back there?” Jack said.

  He was feeling weak and shaky. That guy had almost drowned Saree, and he’d never been shot at before–never dreamed it would ever happen and never wanted it to happen again. Ever.

  Levi shook his head. “Nothing. And don’t go yakking about it.”

  “You kidding? Tell my folks I snuck out tonight to see some toxic dumpers we trapped and wound up getting shot at? Yeah, right. Soon as I get home I’m gonna run into their bedroom and blab all about it.”

  Levi laughed. “Okay.”

  Of course he’d tell Weezy. She’d eat it up.

  But Jack hadn’t been talking about the dumpers.

  “I meant you. What did you do to those guys?”

  The smiled vanished. “Nothing.”

  “But I saw–”

  He stared straight ahead. “You saw a couple of guys slipping around on a mucky cripple bottom and getting stuck. That’s all.”

  He was sure it had been more than that. But what exactly?

  Saree turned to face him. “Yeah, that’s all it was, Jack. But what about you? What’s your talent? Is it being able to hide? Is that why I can’t see you?”

  What was she talking about?

  “I don’t have any talent.”

  “Maybe you just don’t know about it yet. You’re hiding something, but that’s okay. You came back for me. I never expected that. I still can’t see you, but I like you.”

  Jack had no idea how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

  They dropped him off about a block from his house. As they raced off he saw their bumper sticker flash in the moonlight.

  Piney Power.

  He had an idea why those kids liked the sound of it.

  4

  “I can’t believe all that happened without me,” Weezy said as they entered Jack’s house though the kitchen.

  He’d waited till after school to tell her about it.

  “Believe me, you were better off at home.” He shuddered at a vision of that Tony guy holding Weezy’s head underwater instead of Saree’s. “While it was happening, I wanted to be anywhere but there.”

  As they stepped into the front room where his folks were watching the 6:30 news, a TV reporter said, “The two bodies found inside those barrels of toxic waste have been identified.”

  Jack stiffened as he recognized the mug shots on the screen.

  “Anthony Lapomarda and Santo ‘Sammy’ Carlopoli have long rap sheets. Their bodies were found outside a South Philly body shop this morning along with two dozen barrels of toxic waste. More waste was found inside the body shop, along with a number of stolen cars. The suspected chop shop–”

  He nudged Weezy and whispered, “That’s them!”

  The old Piney’s parting words came back: We’re all gonna have us a nice chat, then we’ll send ’em home.

  He hadn’t mentioned how they’d be sent home. He glanced at Weezy and found her staring back with wide, dark eyes.

  “Piney justice,” he said, feeling a chill.

  His father looked up. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Dad pointed to the TV. “That’s why we live out here. To get away from scum like that. You don’t have to worry about running into any of their sort in these parts.”

  “I guess not, Dad.”

  At least not anymore.

  In the not-too-distant past, a teenage secret agent in training learns the one thing spies should never do!

  SIDETRACKED

  Jeffrey Westhoff

  January 1985

  The train lurched and so did Sophia’s stomach. She was in the central corridor of the sleeper car with no window in sight, only doorways, so she doubled back toward the connecting door she had just passed through, running against the train’s undeniable forward motion. “No, no, no, no, no!” she said as the train incrementally built up speed.

  Passing through the accordion passageway between the cars, Sophia felt the corrugated iron floorboards shift with the train’s motion. This couldn’t be happening. Why had the train left early? The connecting door slid aside with a pneumatic sigh, and Sophia stepped into the lounge car. She stooped to look through the nearest window and saw Grand Central Station’s cavernous train yard rolling past. Sophia caught her face reflected in the window. Panic filled her eyes. She could hear the increased heartbeat racing in her chest. Sophia looked down at the slim Swatch watch with the plastic lavender band. It said she still had nearly ten minutes before the train’s departure. Then she noticed the second hand wasn’t moving. Her watch had stopped, probably right when she climbed aboard the train. “So much for Swiss goddamned timing,” Sophia muttered.

  This was bad, Sophia told herself, but not disastrous. She simply had to get off the train at the first stop. It would be a suburb in Westchester County, maybe Yonkers. She wouldn’t be on the train more than an hour. She just had to avoid the conductor asking for her nonexistent ticket. She just had to avoid being noticed by Janov.

  She could hear Ms. Chambers’ mantra: “Observe and report. Don’t engage. Never engage!” All right, but Sophia hadn’t engaged Janov. This still counted as observation, though perhaps observation more aggressive than Ms. Chambers would approve.

  Another iron stanchion went by the window. Sophia looked at her face again, pleased to see it had relaxed now that she had an escape plan. A lock of her auburn hair had fallen across her eyes. Sophia pushed it away and used the moment to appraise her features. She wished that her cheekbones were a bit higher, that her lips were a bit fuller, that her nose was a
bit smaller, that her gray eyes were a bit bluer, but she was pretty enough that the boys sometimes turned their heads. She wasn’t a striking beauty, but Ms. Chambers didn’t want striking beauties in the program. They attracted attention.

  For the last four months, shortly after beginning her junior year at the Elleston Academy for Girls, Sophia Layton had spent after-school and weekend hours as part of a secret FBI program of teenage girls shadowing foreign diplomats throughout Manhattan. The diplomats were all possible spies, so the program focused mostly on the Soviet delegation to the United Nations, though Sophia heard a rumor one of the other girls spent two weeks tailing a woman from the Israeli consulate.

  The girls’ administrator, Ms. Chambers–Special Agent Chambers, to be technical–informally referred to the program as her Harriet Brigade, named for the title character from Harriet the Spy. Sophia subsequently read the book and was disappointed it didn’t feature genuine espionage.

  “You won’t be paid much,” Ms. Chambers told Sophia during the interview, “but each member of the Harriet Brigade will receive a letter of recommendation to the university of her choice. The ranks of the FBI are well-stocked with Ivy League alumni.” Sophia smiled hungrily at the offer. Straight As from the Elleston Academy might be adequate enough for Princeton, but straight As plus a letter of recommendation on Department of Justice letterhead should put her over the top.

  Sophia’s parents and friends believed she had an internship in the FBI’s file room at 26 Federal Plaza. That was the position she thought she was applying for when she saw the posting on the jobs board in the guidance counselor’s office at Elleston Academy. Sophia later learned Ms. Chambers recruited exclusively from private girls’ schools because she didn’t want teenage boys in the program. The biggest reason was the maturity factor. “If a boy took this position,” Ms. Chambers told Sophia at the start of training, “he would leave this room pointing his finger like a gun humming ‘The James Bond Theme.’ Then a week into his first assignment he would get bored and quit.” Another reason, also important, was that Ms. Chambers believed girls were more observant. “If your subject changed his haircut or wore a new pair of shoes, you’d notice. A boy wouldn’t,” she said. “More pertinent, you’d notice if your subject was wearing a carnation in his lapel when he usually doesn’t, or was sitting in a coffee shop reading the Times when he usually reads the Daily News. Both could mean he’s signaling a contact.”