by E. A. Darl
She ducked her head under the window and grasped the upper window casing, pulling herself to a standing position outside the window. A metal television antenna ran up the side of the house and she stepped over onto the structure and climbed quickly down, jumping the last three feet to land in a crouch at the base of tower.
“Avalon, get back here!” screamed Alexa in frustration. She stared at the offending tower in frustration and then backed away from the window. The height scared her and kept her confined to the house more than any lecture of Peet’s.
Avalon glanced back up at the window and waved, before vanishing into the bushes lining the driveway.
A curtain parted on the main floor and a pair of anxious eyes watched as Avalon disappeared down the drive.
AVALON RAN DOWN THE driveway, once she was clear of the house and any watching eyes. I don’t want to worry Mitch, he is way too protective of me. I work better alone. I can go places and do things that he cannot. He’s a cop, for god’s sake!
Mitch had been her constant companion for the last several weeks. They met when he arrested her for breaking into a greenhouse. He later freed her from custody, under the condition that she agree to a dangerous mission. The mission involved stealing evidence of a government cover up, one that strangely linked back to her missing parents. Avalon and her sister Alexa had been on their own for five years, ever since the disappearance of their mother and father, two preeminent scientists with a flair for solving ecological issues in the natural environment. But this goes way beyond invasive species management, thought Avalon, as she ducked behind a wooden machine shed at the edge of the driveway.
She ran around to the back to the aging wooden door and yanked it open. It took a moment for her eyes to adjusted to the dimly lit interior, after the brightness of the outside. She pulled the door partly shut and looked around the barn. She had been in the machine shed last week, just poking around to see what Peet kept in the decrepit old building. It was then that she spied the old bicycle, leaning up against the rusting red fender of a long disused square hay baler. Lucky for her, the tires were still fully inflated. She pulled the bike out of the thick cobwebs and rolled it over to the doorway. The bike was baby blue with a purple banana seat, the plastic split in two places. Long curving handle bars put her in mind of a Harley Davidson motor bike. “This will do for transportation,” she muttered aloud, scooping off the remaining spider webs and then rolling it outside. She kicked the door closed behind her and with a running start, hopped onto the bike and began peddling. Beats walking, she thought, as she sped down the deserted gravel lane, a cloud of dust trailing in her wake.
The paved highway was empty when she reached it, for which she was grateful. Peet’s driveway sloped toward the road and as she sped down the hill she gathered speed. Just as she reached the turn off, she braked, squeezing the pedals in reverse to slow her descent. Nothing happened. She shot out into the road at break neck speed and swung the handlebars to the left, dumping herself onto the hot pavement as the bike skidded out from under her. She slid along its surface for a few feet before coming to a bruised stop at the edge of the gravel.
“Oww!” she howled, the palms of her hands skinned and embedded with stones. The cuts welled up with blood and she wiped them on her jeans, wincing at the contact. “Damn, that hurts! Shit!” She puckered her lips and blew gently on the stinging cuts. Her knee throbbed, drawing her attention to a new ache and she bent over to examine the rip in her jeans. “Aww, man! Not my new jeans!”
They were not new jeans at all but the cast offs of Peet’s eldest daughter, now well into her middle years. Twenty years out of date, they were still a wondrous find for Avalon, for they fit her thin torso perfectly. She even liked the bell bottoms.
Avalon limped back to the bike, scowling. She picked it up by the scuffed handles and did a visual inspection, carefully checking it over for damage. It looked to be no worse for the spill on the hard pavement. The chain had sprung off the sprocket and was dragging in the dirt. Avalon put down the kickstand and began repairing the bike. As she fiddled with the chain, an object dropped onto the road with a jingling sound. Surprised, she picked up the object. It was a leather change purse stuffed with coins. She bent her head sideways to look at the underside of the bike seat and that is when she saw it. The seat was hollow, and a little trap door had popped open with her fall. She snapped open the clasp of the change purse and emptied it in her hand. Out tumbled a large number of assorted coins, and a small silver key, but more importantly, a fat roll of bills secured with a rubber band. A low whistle escaped her lips as she slipped the rubber band from the cache of cash. A quick count brought the total to over a thousand dollars. Shocked at her sudden windfall, she stretched the band around the bills and put them back into the bike seat, keeping the change in her pocket. As an afterthought, she put the cuff link in the bike seat too, for safekeeping.
Chain properly seated once again, Avalon straddled the bike and slowly pedaled away, testing that the chain was repaired and operating correctly. This time when she braked, it slowed with no effort at all. Grinning, Avalon sped up, heading toward the outskirts of Solace. Her aches were forgotten in the excitement of her windfall. I can even buy myself lunch when I get to Frankie’s, she thought. Her stomach rumbled in pleased agreement at the thought.
Chapter 2
Plans Within Plans
The door opened and closed. The floorboards creaked as Peet walked down the hallway to his living room where Mitch sat, a glass of neat whiskey in his hand. He frowned down at the book open on his lap. The page was in some way offensive, for his frown deepened as he turned the page.
“She found it,” Peet said, sitting down in the horse hair chair across from Mitch.
“That didn’t take her long,” said Mitch, engrossed in his reading.
“She is a smart one, that girl,” said Peet with a grin. “I like her.”
“Did you really have to slip the chain like that? You could have just told her.”
“Yeah? And have her run like last time? Nope, she is a stubborn one. Best to let her discover things herself.” Pleased with himself, Peet helped himself to a measure of whiskey from the decanter sitting on the table between the two chairs. He took a sip and as he lowered his glass, he spied Alexa standing in the doorway. “Hello Alexa.”
Mitch’s head came up and he smiled at the younger sister, features smoothing. “Come in, Alexa.”
She walked into the room and sat down on a foot stool by the fireplace hearth. The fireplace was empty and cold. Alexa twisted her fingers together and said, “You put her up to this, didn’t you?” The accusation tumbled from her lips in a rush and she felt her cheeks heat. “Why did you have to use her again?”
Mitch stuck a coaster in between the pages of his book and closed it, settling his full attention on Alexa. “I am not using her, Alexa. Avalon came to this decision all on her own.”
“No she didn’t! You are responsible. You said that the restaurant might be where the gangs hang out. You had to say it, didn’t you?”
“Alexa, I only said they might be there. I also said that trying to locate the stronghold of the Firebrand gang is like trying to find a nest of rats in a sewer system. So many dead ends.”
“We need to find our parents!” Alexa trembled, her anxiety spiking with the conversation. “They are the important key, not the Firebrand gang. Who cares about a gang of teenage street rats? They robbed our house after our parents were taken! They are thugs and scum!”
“Alexa,” said Peet, “We are going after your parents, but first we need to figure out where they are. We will find them but it will take time. The S.O.S. might have some information. I am going to start with them. If anyone knows where they might be, it will be the S.O.S.”
“Who are the S.O.S? I know what they are, you already explained that. What I want to know is who are they? If they are so important and smart and all of that, how come the government doesn’t have them under lock and key, helpin
g to solve the problems rather than sneaking around in the dark?”
The S.O.S. were a group of scientists, working in secret right under the government’s nose, to discover the “Seeds Of Survival” in a world where the land was dying. No longer trusting the government to provide answers in time to save the populace, the environmental scientists formed an underground, non-profit scientific brain trust, to explore solutions to the advancing ecological disaster that was unfolding before it was too late.
“They are in hiding, Alexa, because they refused to help the government. The government doesn’t take these things lightly. Its aims are not always aligned with the scientific community.”
“You want to go to scientists who are on the most wanted list and ask for their help against the government? Why would they do that? They are in hiding!”
“They are in hiding as their way of fighting back. I know what they want, Alexa, I am one of them.”
“So if they are so smart, if you are so smart,” she glared at Peet, “why did you have to send Avalon into danger again?” Alexa’s voice rose in anger and she choked on the next words. “She’s the only family I have!”
“Hey, hey... Alexa, we are here. I know you hate seeing her leave, but do you really think we could corral Avalon?” Mitch gathered Alexa into a fatherly hug, pressing her face against his shoulder. “She would have gone anyway, Alexa. She is headstrong and way too used to doing her own thing. We wanted to make sure that if that was the choice she made, that she was set up in an unobtrusive way. We also wanted to make sure she had resources and options. She has cash and transportation and most importantly, she is street smart. She will be fine.”
Alexa pulled away, scrubbing an escaped tear from her cheek. “Why can’t I help? Why does everyone treat me like a child? I hate being left behind. I can help!”
Mitch ran a hand over the stubble of his beard, taking in the stubborn set of her jaw and the narrowed, stormy eyes. His gaze rose to meet Peet’s. He nodded agreement to his unasked question. Mitch sighed.
“You can help.”
“I can?” said Alexa, surprised.
“Yes, you can. Peet would like you to be his spy. Would you like to be a spy?”
Alexa’s eyes widened as her lips wobbled into a half grin.
“A spy? Like in the movies? I can run around and eavesdrop on conversations, and discover secrets?”
Mitch nodded. “Exactly. Adults overlook children, and often speak things in front of them they would never share with an adult nearby.”
“Ok.” Alexa sat up straight and twisted around to look at Peet. “Who are we spying on? When do we leave?”
“Not until the morning,” he said.
“But Avalon got to leave early. She is biking to town in the dark!”
“Well the people we will be infiltrating do not hang around after dark. Most scientists work during the day. We leave in the morning.”
“Alright.” She jumped to her feet and ran out of the room. “I am going to go pack. Do I need a dress?” Her voice floated back to them as she climbed the stairs to her room.
“Yes!” called Peet after her retreating form.
Mitch eyed him for a moment then picked up his glass of whiskey again. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“I guarantee they will not even notice her after a while. She will be safe with me. And as you are leaving, it’s best she is in my line of sight.”
“Alright, we go with your plan. Now, I just have to figure out how to get back into my old job without being thrown into jail. We need access to those police records.”
He watched the amber liquid swirl in his glass for a moment, before downing it in one gulp. Placing the glass on the table, he stood, picking up his baseball cap and tugging it onto his head.
“I think it’s time to pay a visit to another old friend. Take care of Alexa.”
“Will do. Watch your back, Mitch. You cannot know who is involved in this or how far the governments’ reach is. Be careful who you talk to and who you trust when you do.”
Mitch nodded, and left the room. The front door slammed and his steps faded away. A moment later the engine of his ‘69 Mustang roared to life and he swung out of the driveway, leaving the old house in a cloud of dust.
Peet watched for a moment as the car disappeared down the lane, then shut the door and bolted it. He picked up the shot gun behind the door and checked the magazine, then placed it back behind the door. He hoped he would not need it. But one could never be too careful.
Chapter 3
Press Ganged
Dawn was still a few hours away when Avalon came to the sign announcing the outskirts of Solace. She stopped pedaling and coasted to its base, to rest for a moment. She leaned the bike against the signpost then dug into her back pack to retrieve her flash light. The beam of light washed over the sign. It read “Solace - Gateway To The Stars - Population: “The number was erased and spray-painted over with a skull and crossbones. The sign was covered in graffiti and gang slogans, the most prominent of which was the Firebrand gang, with its signature flames making the sign look as though it was on fire. Avalon smiled. Where the Firebrand gang could be found, she would also find clues to her parents’ fate.
She sat down under the sign then dug into her back pack and pulled out an apple, devouring it in three bites. Apples were her favourite. She could never eat enough apples. She reached in for a second apple, eating this one more slowly, pondering her next move. I could head to the ghetto, and check out every place where the brand was spray painted. Someone would know where the gang’s headquarters were in Solace. But making inquiries in that fashion is a good way to be ambushed and beat up pretty badly, especially if it is the Firebrand gang. They like their privacy. They would not appreciate someone asking questions. No, if the Firebrand gang wanted to speak to you, they initiated the conversation. What I need to find is the place where they exchange information, among other things. Their secure meeting place. It dawned on her that they could have more than one, but in Solace, there would be a primary location. She was hoping that Frankie’s Finger Foods would be that place. Avalon plucked the matchbook out of the side pocket of her backpack and flipped up the cover. Inside was small map, and a pointer in the shape of a hamburger pinpointed the location of the diner. It was located on the east side of town, not far from the road she was currently travelling. The hours listed were 11:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m., seven days a week. She planned to be there at 6:00 a.m., to scout around and spy out the lay of the land, see who came and went from the place.
Avalon slid the matchbook into a pocket of her jeans, slipped her arms through the straps of the backpack, and headed off down the road.
Dawn found her in the city proper. The drought was no less severe here, than it was in the country or at home at Gainsborough Manor, for that matter. The difference here was that the pavement increased the temperatures by reflecting it back into the air. By noon great waves of heat would shimmer across the surfaces. The increased heat fed the drought and any patch of grass was a crispy carpet of dried vegetation.
The first buildings she came to were all abandoned, their windows broken out, and by the look of it from the roadway, the doors were missing too. She poked her head in the first couple to confirm her theory and noted that anything of value had been stripped out of the buildings. Soulless plaster shells were all that remained as every ounce of copper or metal or plastic had been scavenged from the bones of the building. The cracked stucco exteriors were tagged with graffiti announcing which gangs controlled the various neighbourhoods. Where the territories of the various factions intersected, the tags changed on a regular basis.
There were no vehicles on the street. Parking one in the area was as good as giving it away. Avalon kept a wary eye as the single family homes became duplexes and then row housing, and the density of the number of structures increased. The units in this area of town were occupied, the windows shuttered and curtains drawn to maintain the privacy of those inside. She b
egan to see people on the street, lounging in doorways or sitting on the steps of the brownstone units. Most were boys, her age or a little older, with tattooed arms and chests, hair shaved or left long as they desired. They watched her cycle past them, following her passage with suspicious stares. Avalon kept her head straight, ignoring them, but secretly watched from the corner of her eye to see if they followed. One group got into a heated discussion over her passing. Hands pointed at her but their leader shook his head, and the group of four boys sat back down. With a sigh of relief, she spotted the street she was looking for and turned the corner. A van parked on the side of the road, forced her bike to move away from the curbside. As she swung out around it, five people stepped out into the road in front of her. Avalon braked hard, and as she did, three more stepped off the curb behind her, blocking her in. Avalon skidded her bike to a halt, apprehensively eyeing the approaching teens. They were a mix of boys and girls, in the vicinity of her age. Her eyes darted around the circle, looking for an escape.
“Why are you here?”
The question came from a tall, sandy haired teen, his face hard and unsmiling. A scar from a knife wound puckered his eyebrow, and slid down his cheek. He wore an eye patch, over the eye.
Avalon stared at him, surprised at the wave of pity that washed over her. Despite the wild thumping of her heart as the gang members closed the noose, something about their leader made her pause.
“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t be?” she said, with a false bravado, glancing around at the shuffling bodies closing rank. She let a knife, tucked up inside the sleeve of her jacket slide into her palm, all without taking her eyes from the advancing teens.
“This is Firebrand territory. Only the foolish would enter.”
“Or the really stupid,” said a girl to the leader’s right. She was also tall, with dirty blonde hair braided into one thick rope and slung over her right shoulder. Her lips were pressed together into a thick flat line that transformed her face from acceptable to ugly. Or maybe it was the possessive stance she took in relation to their leader that made her ugly to Avalon.
