RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET

by Palamountain, Pete

  He laughed. "And I feel the same way about you two. But I don't think we define the word the same way he does."

  **

  The next day's class sessions were particularly trying for the three young people. The Prophet and Elder Mobly harped over and over again regarding the Biblical validity of polygamy and the marriage of young girls to older men.

  "The Virgin Mary herself was probably no older than thirteen when she was betrothed to Joseph," said Mobly. "That is our example, our lead, our model."

  The angriest rebellious wife said, "That was a different culture, a different time. Who says we're supposed to copy Mary and Joseph?"

  "God says," the Prophet interrupted. "He has spoken to me personally and has confirmed everything we teach."

  The wife shook her head. "And did He tell you that you can have as many wives as you want?"

  With obvious hatred in his eyes, the Prophet stared at the woman for a long time before responding. It was clear to Justin and the girls that the woman was teetering on the brink of destruction and her destroyer was now in the process of formulating his plans.

  Justin tried to break the spell. "Didn't a lot of the Bible characters have more than one wife, sir?"

  The Prophet turned toward him and smiled. "Yes, yes. We all remember Solomon, the wisest man whoever lived. He had hundreds of wives and many concubines. King David had dozens of wives. And Jacob had Rachel and her sister Leah." At the mention of sisters, he looked at Janie and Rachel and inclined his head slightly as if to say that his intention to include them in his harem was most definitely based on Biblical principles.

  **

  The rebellious wife disappeared that night; and the twins and Justin were subdued as they stood on the back deck, gazing up at the dark night sky.

  "The tracks head up again," he said. "I'm afraid she's at the bottom of the pit with Mrs. Riggs."

  "When?" said Rachel, tears forming in her bottle-green eyes.

  Justin shrugged. "Don't know for sure. I didn't see her anywhere after about three o'clock."

  "Can't we do something?" said Janie.

  "Too late," he said. "And I'm not sure there was anything we could have done even if we caught them in the act. We tried to warn her, to get her to stop criticizing them. But she was determined to have her say."

  "We should have told her about Mrs. Riggs," said Rachel.

  "She probably wouldn't have believed us," said Justin. "Adults don't pay much attention to kids." He changed the subject. "How are you two doing on the list I gave you?"

  "Pretty good," said Janie. "But we need a lot more."

  "Not heavy stuff," he said. "Remember we have to carry it up into the mountains."

  **

  Inside the great room near the side exit, Elder Mobly, J.J. Flack, and two security guards stood talking. Elder Mobly had an anxious expression on his face.

  "We can't keep doing this. Two in less than a week. Someone will suspect. Something will get out."

  "I don't like it either," said the Prophet, "but God has made it clear He won't tolerate scoffers and rebels. We all must follow His instructions."

  The two beefy guards appeared bored, as if matters of conscience were beyond them. They'd been told what to do and they'd done it. Simple. No thought, no worries.

  "Mrs. Riggs was threatening," said Mobly. "I understood your orders with her, but—"

  "God's orders," said Flack.

  "Yes, I know, but today seemed over-the-top, premature. We didn't really give her much of a chance."

  "She wasn't going to change, and she challenged me in front of my new brides…in front of everyone."

  "What about her family?"

  "Long out of touch. She's been buried in the temple for years, and now she's buried in reality." He looked around. "Where are the kids?"

  One of the guards, a thickset, brutish man with no neck, said, "Out on the back deck."

  "Are they being watched? Can they get away?"

  "To where?" said the guard.

  The Prophet nodded. He then said slowly, "I don't trust that boy Justin."

  Mobly said, "He seems to be making a good deal of progress."

  "He's spending too much time with Rachel and Janie. He might turn their heads."

  "They're the same age. It's natural for them to be together."

  "The girls are mine," Flack said, "and I don't want him around them. Besides, God has informed me that the boy's a troublemaker and that we might have to deal with him."

  Mobly's long, thin face turned pale. "Deal with him? How? Surely not the mine. He's too young. We can't—"

  Flack bristled. "He's old enough to distract the twins, and he's old enough to go to the authorities if he's not dealt with….God has a plan, and we can't let anyone or anything interfere with His plan."

  12

  Detection and Disaster

  Much later that night, when the household was asleep and the lone guard was once again snoring beside the fireplace, Justin crept down the stairs and eased toward the kitchen. He was fairly certain the guard was drunk and dead to the world, but he couldn't be sure and he was taking no chances. When he reached a position just behind the guard's head, he stood still, listening to the man's grunts and wheezes. When it became obvious that alcohol had indeed rendered the man unconscious, Justin relaxed and headed briskly into the kitchen.

  He was on a supply mission. He was carrying a small canvass backpack he'd found on a shelf in the upstairs utility closet; and he was hoping to fill the backpack with dry foods, plastic sheets, matches, knives, spoons, and even some cigarette lighters and fishhooks, if he was lucky. The kitchen area had its own lights, but Justin did not turn them on for fear of rousing the guard. It was, therefore, difficult to function in the residual light from the great room. The shadows caused by the flames in the fireplace danced on the cabinets and countertops, and on several occasions he was forced to pause to refocus his eyes. But despite the dim light, he was pleased with the progress he was making. In a top drawer he found a treasure: four cigarette lighters and six matchbooks. From the cabinets he culled beans, macaroni, and an assortment of dry soups in handy little packets. On the counter he found a knife rack from which he drew three long blades, including one with a serrated edge which he knew he could use to cut small limbs and twigs. He wished he could find a chopping instrument of some kind, but he supposed that was asking too much.

  And now it was time to head back upstairs, hide his stash, and crawl back into bed. He would then get up in the morning and act as if he'd gotten a good night's sleep and as if he were a good little boy. As soon as he could, he would tell the girls what he had accomplished.

  Suddenly, the fluorescent lights above his head flickered on, causing him to flinch and to lose his bearings. He dropped his backpack and thought for a moment he might fall to the floor. Instead, he groped for the counter top to steady himself, and when he regained his balance, he whirled to face the doorway. An indistinct shape filled the open space, but Justin couldn't determine who or what he was seeing. He closed his eyes and opened them again, and the shape began to come into focus. It was the massive, bull-like guard who should still be asleep on the sofa by the fire.

  "What're you doing in here, boy? What're you up to?"

  Justin recovered and said, "Looking for something to eat, sir. I got hungry."

  The guard eyed him suspiciously. "Hungry, eh? Then why didn't you turn on the light?"

  "You were sleeping, sir. I didn't want to wake you."

  The guard noticed the backpack on the floor. "What's that?"

  Justin bent and scooped it up. "Nothing, sir, just some books and things."

  "Books? How can you read without any light?"

  Justin couldn't think of a ready answer, and he remained speechless.

  "You'd better give me that bag," said the guard.

  Justin clutched the pack to his chest. "It's nothing, sir. Really."

  "Give me the bag, kid, or I'll take it from you."

&n
bsp; **

  Elder Mobly trembled as the Prophet thundered on about betrayal and lies and traitors in the midst of the Sheba Hill faithful. Mobly tried to interrupt on several occasions, but the Prophet ignored him and continued his diatribe. "I told you we couldn't trust that boy. I told you God had warned me about him." The items from Justin's backpack were displayed on the long table in Elder Mobly's office. Justin was sitting disconsolate in a chair flanked by the two burly security guards.

  "Maybe the boy can explain," said Mobly.

  "More lies," said the Prophet. "Explanations aren't necessary." He motioned toward the table. "Three knives and the rest of these supplies. Was he planning a picnic? The only answer I want from you, young man, is, are the twins involved? Have you corrupted their minds? Have you spoiled my plans for them?"

  "Rachel and Janie have nothing to do with this," said Justin.

  "So you say."

  "What would I do with two girls out there in this weather? I was thinking of leaving and heading back to Alaska. It's what I've always wanted to do, ever since my father and uncle died. It has nothing to do with you, with the temple, or with Rachel and Janie."

  The Prophet stared at him long and hard.

  **

  When Justin didn't appear for breakfast, the twins were immediately concerned. They asked Elder Mobly about it, and his nervous response that Justin was being sent to the Texas facility for more concentrated training caused them to jump to their feet.

  "Why? When? What do you mean?"

  Mobly coughed. "Well, he has a few issues that can best be handled by our people in Texas. When? As soon as this snowstorm ends and the driver can negotiate the road down the mountain.

  **

  In their room Rachel said, "We've got to do something. We've only got an hour and a half before class starts, and the snow is already starting to let up. Wherever they've got Justin, they'll be taking him up the mountain soon. There's no Texas, just like there wasn't any Texas for Mrs. Riggs. There's only the mine and that deep hole."

  Janie's eyes were filled with tears. She was sitting on the bed next to her sister. "But what can we do? What—"

  Rachel said, "I don't know, but we've got to do something, try something. We can't let them murder him."

  "They'll kill us, too," said Janie.

  "Then so be it," Rachel said, taking her sister in her arms. "What better way to die than trying to save our friend."

  Janie wiped her eyes and managed a smile. "Better than marriage to J.J. Flack, I suspect."

  "Anything's better than that," said Rachel.

  Janie recovered her composure and jumped to her feet. "Then let's get busy. Dress as warm as we can—our heaviest stuff. Extra socks, hats, caps, boots—the whole bit. We can't get our packs from the laundry room. The guard's there, a few feet from the laundry room door."

  "I know," said Rachel. "We'll have to go just as we are—except for these." She retrieved a sheathed hunting knife and a small flashlight they had found and had secreted under the shoe rack in their closet.

  "That knife won't be much help against the guards," said Janie.

  "I know. We'll have to think of something else. We'll have to get to the mine before they do. Wait for them."

  "Then what?"

  Rachel shrugged. "I wish I knew."

  "Well, let's hurry!" Janie exclaimed, looking out the window. "The snow's almost stopped. They'll be taking him soon."

  "Down the back stairs and out the back door," said Rachel. "I wish we could get to the laundry room and get our stuff."

  "Me, too, but we have to go now, before they think to guard the back stairs. We've got to try to save Justin."

  13

  The Pit

  The girls kept to the trees for the first mile or so after they left the lodge. They knew they had to stay off the road that led into the higher Bitterroots. With the snow abating, their footprints would be readily visible to the guards who would be driving the SUV carrying Justin to his doom.

  The sky was clearing, but the temperature was falling; and the girls bent into the still howling wind as they left the tree cover and emerged on the powdery snow on the side of the road. They knew they were now making tracks, but they believed that this far above the camp, the guards would not be paying close attention. And besides, the wind was agitating the light powder, making close examination of footprints extremely difficult. They continued higher and higher, always listening carefully for the sound of the SUV that they knew would soon be close on their heels. They hoped that before long they would come to the sign Justin had described, the sign that would tell them to leave the road and head cross country toward the entrance to the mine.

  Janie cried above the wind, "How far? How far have we come? How far did Justin say it was?"

  "About six miles," said Rachel. "I think we've come that far. Keep a sharp eye for a small tin sign nailed to a tree and for the trail through the woods."

  "Why isn't there a road, if it's a mine."

  "Maybe there was a road and it's gone—covered with new growth. Or maybe a road goes to it from a different direction."

  The wind had let up and they were no longer shouting, but suddenly Janie screamed, "Look up ahead, on that tree. A sign, a tin sign. We're there." They raced toward the trail, but before they could reach the cutoff, they heard the sound of a large vehicle chugging up the road behind them.

  "Off the road, Janie, quick—into the trees!" When they were safely out of sight, they saw the dark SUV creep slowly past them toward the sign. It then stopped and its lights went out.

  "We've got to get to the mine before they do," Rachel cried. "We can run through the trees on the side of the trail. They won't be running, and Justin will be fighting them."

  "What do we do when we get there?" asked Janie.

  "We go into the mine from the front corner so we don't leave any obvious tracks and then make our way back to the pit. We've got the little flashlight."

  "What then?"

  "I've got an idea. I don't know if it'll work. But we can try. I'll tell you what I've got in mind when we get there. Let's go!"

  They ran desperately through the trees and brush, knowing they must arrive at the mine before Justin and the guards. Whatever slim chance they had of rescuing their friend lay in getting inside first.

  As they ran, Janie called out breathlessly, "I hope your plan works."

  "It has to."

  **

  The gaping mouth of the mine was boarded over as Justin had told them, but the job had been done carelessly and there was enough room for Rachel and Janie to squeeze through the corner without disturbing the boards. And because the girls had approached from the side and had climbed over the stones piled high near the entrance, they were fairly certain they hadn't left noticeable footprints.

  Once inside, they halted and listened intently for indications that Justin and the two murderous security men were nearing the mine. There was silence outside, so they peeked through the spaces between the boards to see what they could see.

  Nothing. No sights. No sounds.

  "They're taking their time," said Janie. "We couldn't have been that far ahead of them."

  "I'm sure Justin is slowing them down."

  "Let's go," said Rachel. "Get out the flashlight. Let's head on back to the pit. I'll explain what I have in mind."

  **

  Even though his feet were bound about ten inches apart, Justin dug his heels into the soft snow that covered the trail. He also twisted and squirmed and did everything else he could think of to slow his progress toward the mine's entrance. He was determined to make the guards' task as difficult as possible. He had no desire to be a cooperative victim, a willing participant in his own death. He wished he were bigger and stronger so he could put up more of a struggle.

  "Fight all you want, kid," said the bull-necked guard on Justin's right. "It won't do you any good. We'll still get you into the mine, and we'll still toss you into the hole."

  "Doesn't i
t bother you that I'm just a boy?" Justin gasped, still battling with all his might.

  "Why should it bother us?" said the second guard, an unshaven fat man with yellow teeth. "We do what the Prophet tells us. Flack wants you down the hole…down the hole you'll go."

  Justin made an especially vigorous effort to break free and the bull-necked guard cuffed him across the back of the neck. "Cut it out, kid, or we'll deal with you right here and carry you the rest of the way." He chuckled at what he was considering and then added, "But I guess we won't do anything premature. Flack wants you to go down that hole alive. He wants you to suffer—something about God's will for bad boys….But Flack didn't say anything about not causing you some extra pain before we get there. So keep it up, keep fighting us, see what happens."

  The yellow-toothed guard said, "Flack thinks you might survive the fall down the hole. That's what he wants—worse for you down there if you're still breathing. He likes the idea of you moaning and groaning down there. I think he's wrong about the hole. I think you'll die when you hit bottom, but we'll see."

  "Some fine religion you've got," said Justin.

  "God's ways aren't our ways," the guard said, laughing.

  "I can believe it," said Justin.

  **

  Deep inside the mine, near the downshaft, Rachel had finished explaining her plan and now turned to Janie for her reaction.

  "Everything will have to work perfectly," said Janie. "One little hitch or hesitation on their part, or ours, and we're dead."

  "I know."

  **

  After kicking the boards away from the entrance, the guards pushed Justin ahead of them into the long horizontal tunnel that led to the downshaft. Justin's bound feet prevented him from maintaining his balance, and after the push he fell to his knees and refused to budge.

  "Get up, kid, or else," said the fat guard.

  "Or else what?" Justin said. "Or else you'll hurt me? We all know what's in store for me, so do your worst."

  The men exchanged glances and then each reached down and grasped Justin under one of his arms. In this manner they scooped him to his feet and began to drag him forward toward his destruction. The flashlight that Yellow Tooth carried was not much larger than the one the twins had used, and the tunnel was, therefore, poorly lit as the trio trudged deeper into the mine. The shadows on the walls danced high and low in rhythm with the moving light.