by Inmon, Shawn
“I guess I missed them,” Dominick answered.
“Will,” Michael hissed. “Run toward us, now!”
He didn’t need to say it twice. Will sprinted toward the rest of the Turtles, the safety of the forest. He was not the fastest runner, though, and the older Hawks closed the gap between them quickly.
Michael saw that everything was moving too fast. They would never be able to stop the older boys at the speed they were running, especially since there were four of them instead of only two. They would just blow right through the Turtles, run Will down, and strip him of his flag. So close, and yet so far.
Will ran right past them, just like he was supposed to. The Hawks were only a few yards behind, just enough distance that Michael had time to throw his body across the trail. The first Hawk never saw him, stepped onto the small of his back, twisted his ankle, and went flying off into the bushes. The second sensed a commotion and tried to slow, but it was too late. He tripped over Michael and went sprawling onto the path. The third and fourth boys did the same.
“Dom, get ‘em!” Michael hollered.
The Turtles jumped on the boys and stripped them of their flags.
When they sorted out all the arms, legs, and torsos, all four Hawks were without their flag. Michael untangled himself, stood up, and started to give an order, when one of the Hawks held his flag aloft. For the purposes of the game, Michael was dead.
Dominick and Michael exchanged a glance. Michael had gotten them this far, now it was up to Dominick to take down the strongest and the fastest.
Michael and the vanquished Hawks walked out of the woods and across the track toward the library. Dominick hunkered down with the remaining Turtles.
“We’ve got them outnumbered pretty badly, but we still want to be cautious. If we rush them, Andy will just outrun all of us, and I’m not sure we’ll ever catch him. That will make for a long night. Everyone surround Will, so if they jump us, they’ll have a hard time getting to him. Follow me.”
Dominick turned his flashlight on, using the single beam to illuminate the path that wound through the woods toward the front of the school. When he saw the lights around the flagpole, he switched it off.
The two older boys were still standing in the middle of the great lawn, where it was impossible to sneak up on them. Dominick tapped his fingers against the flashlight, thinking.
How the heck do we use our numbers to beat their strength and speed? Maybe I’m just making it too complicated.
Mind made up, he turned to the fourteen remaining Turtles and said, “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Pretend there’s a big clock face covering the lawn ...”
Five minutes later, the Turtles were in place, hiding in as many locations surrounding the lawn as was possible given the cover, with Will Summers left behind in the forest. Dominick whistled once - sharp and short. The Turtles emerged from their hiding spots and walked slowly toward the two older boys at the flagpoles.
This is it. This is their chance. If they run right now, they’ll break through us easily, and we’ll be hunting them all night.
The Turtles approached slowly, but methodically. Dominick had guessed that if they came out of hiding and rushed at the Tenth Years, it would have spooked them. Instead, they moved simultaneously at a half-march, which ended up confusing the older boys.
The boys from the opposing team didn’t run, but instead stayed in place, turning this way, then that, watching the jaws of the trap slowly close around them. Bob Morgan was caught in a web of indecision, unable to decide whether to attack, or flee. In the end, that indecision made either impossible.
The noose of Turtles closed around them until there were no gaps to escape through. Finally, Andy Tanner said, “I’m gonna make a run for it,” and ran straight toward the woods. That was where Dominick had placed himself. He wasn’t fast enough to keep up with Andy, but he was good at judging distance, speed, and velocity.
Andy juked left, then right, but Dominick stayed focused on his mid-section. Just when it appeared Andy might slip away, Dominick launched himself at Andy’s feet. Andy jumped, trying to hurdle him to freedom, but Dominick’s shoulder caught his feet and the older boy tumbled to ground. The Turtles on either side of Dominick jumped into action, and jumped on Andy, pinning him to the ground before he could escape.
Dominick recovered his balance, rolled over and pulled the flag from Andy’s belt.
The 50th annual Hartfield Game was over, and the Turtles were the victors.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dominick and the rest of the Turtles followed the defeated Badgers into the library. The door swung open and the room hushed. When everyone inside saw the expression on Bob and Andy’s face, a buzz started at the front and spread.
Michael Hollister stood and looked at Dominick, who smiled widely and threw his arms up in a sign of total victory. Michael and the other captured Turtles erupted in a cheer, and soon there was a circle of jumping, yelling Turtles celebrating while the other classes looked on.
“Settle down now, cadets, settle down,” Commander Hartfield’s voice rang out. The Turtles quieted down, but stood together, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, grinning like drunken fools.
“Come in, Turtles, come in. Have a seat here at the front table. It is reserved for the victors.”
The Badgers had already been gathering there, expecting the inevitable victory, even when outnumbered so badly, and now they moved away, clearing space. The Turtles sat down, Michael in the middle, with Dominick and Will on either side.
Commander Hartfield cleared his throat, and all cadets turned toward him. “It’s been a momentous day, hasn’t it? Congratulations to all the cadets, from the first captured to the final ones standing. You fought with honor, and that is the most important thing of all.”
Captain Peterson, standing at the back of the room, applauded, and with seeming reluctance, the rest of the cadets joined in.
“And in the end, there were only Turtles standing. In the fifty-year history of the Hartfield Game, no team competing in their first year has ever won. Hell, let’s be honest: none has ever come close. All rise, please, and salute the victors!”
The rest of the cadets shuffled to their feet, faced the Turtles and snapped off a salute.
“As is our tradition, I’ve had Lieutenant Ignovich make a feast worthy of the day. Please proceed to the mess hall.”
The feast turned out to be worthy indeed. Roasted turkey with dressing, and both pumpkin and apple pies for dessert made for a Thanksgiving celebration a month early.
It wouldn’t have mattered if they had served Meals Ready to Eat from the supply closet, as far as the Turtles were concerned. It still would have been a meal of celebration. They had done what had been thought to be impossible.
As Michael tucked in to his dinner, Dominick leaned over and said, “The Turtles are great, but we never would have come close without you, Genius.”
Michael’s cheeks turned a little red, but he just turned to Dominick and said, “This is cool, but we’re going to have to get everybody back to the barracks soon. Reveille still sounds at oh six hundred, no matter how late we stay up.”
I swear, you’re an old man in a child’s body. When are you ever going to learn to relax and soak in the moment?
After the meal, the Turtles headed back to their barrack at Michael’s encouragement and within minutes were stripped down and on their bunks. The exertion of the day, combined with the emotional victory and the tryptophan in the turkey, quickly knocked them out.
Dominick and Michael laid on their bunks, quietly dissecting the strategy of the day and talking about a plan for the following year’s Hartfield Game. They were just discussing whether it would be possible for them to win every Game they played in, when Billy Guenther, whose bunk was at the front of the room, shouted, “Officer present!”
All Turtles, even those who had been dead asleep a moment before, scrambled to their feet and did their best to stand at attention. C
aptain Peterson said, “At ease,” then walked straight to the back, where Dominick and Michael were.
“Cadets Hollister and Davidner. Get dressed immediately.”
Dominick and Michael scrambled for their clothes and threw them on. As soon as they slipped their boots on, Peterson said, “Follow me.”
Dominick looked a question at Michael, who only shrugged in return.
Gotta be something pretty bad to yank us out of bed at lights out, especially after the day we just had. If something had happened back home, though, why would they have needed Michael too? I guess all will be revealed shortly.
Peterson led the boys into the main hall and ushered them into Commander Hartfield’s office.
Inside, there were three Badgers: Doug Brant, their prefect, along with Bob Morgan and Andy Tanner. The three of them were held at attention.
Hartfield indicated two chairs opposite his desk and said, “Sit down, cadets”
Michael and Dominick sat, appearing very small in the chairs in front of the massive desk.
“I have a few questions I’m going to ask you, but before I do, there are a few things we need to talk about. What you boys accomplished today was remarkable—something to be proud of. However, if you look at our flag,” he nodded his head toward the Hartfield flag displayed behind him, “you’ll see there are three words on it: Honor. Brotherhood. Duty. ‘Honor’ is the first word, because without our honor, there can be no true victory. If we lose our honor, we lose ourselves. Understood?”
Michael and Dominick nodded.
This feels bad. I think it’s a setup.
“Good. Now. These three officers of the Badgers have come forth with a serious accusation, and it is important that you tell me the truth. If you do, there will be repercussions, but the situation will be salvageable.” Hartfield glanced down at a folder in front of him, then said, “The Badgers are maintaining that the Turtles won by cheating today.”
Michael nearly jumped out of his chair. “Bullshit!” he said.
Hartfield fixed him with a gaze as calm as could be. His voice remained steady. “This will be your only warning, Cadet Hollister. You will sit and listen, and you will not speak unless I ask you a question.”
Michael sat back down, but Dominick could feel the steam coming off him.
At the side of the room, Bob Morgan smirked.
There’s our perpetrator, then. The man with the plan.
“Now, the Badgers are claiming that the Turtles stole their strategic planning guide and used it to win the war. What do you say to that, Cadet Hollister?”
Keep it together, Michael. Losing your cool now won’t do us any good.
“Sir, we did not cheat in any way. We never saw their guide.” Michael looked directly at Bob Morgan. “Think about it, sir. Their strategy was to put the fastest cadet in the school in the middle of the biggest cadets in the Game and then stand by the flagpole. I didn’t need to steal anything to unwind that particular mystery.”
Morgan’s cheeks turned red, and Dominick almost thought he heard Captain Peterson stifle a laugh behind them.
“True enough. However, if you had taken their guide prior to the Game today, you would have known just how ham-handed and strategically inept their plan would be.”
Hartfield turned his attention to Dominick. “What do you have to say, Cadet Davidner?”
“We didn’t cheat, sir. We didn’t need to. Michael had been planning this for years. We didn’t rely on being bigger or faster, we just relied on being smarter than them, which we were.”
“Based on the outcome, I tend not to disagree with that, cadet.” Hartfield turned sideways in his chair and stared at the three Badgers standing against the window. “What proof do you bring? I’m not going to convict these cadets of cheating on your word alone.”
Morgan coughed slightly, then said, “Lieutenant. Brant, the Turtles’ prefect, brought this to my attention, sir.”
Hartfield focused on Brant. “Cadet?”
Brant looked like he’d rather be in line for a proctology exam, but said, “Yes, sir. After lights-out last night, I was doing my final check, and when I passed Cadet Davidner’s bunk, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under his mattress. Initially, I was concerned it might be some type of contraband, so I looked closer and saw that it was just a few sheets of paper. Technically, I knew the cadets should not stash anything under their mattress, but it was a minor point, so I let it go.”
“And ...” Hartfield said.
“And, that was it. Until tonight. After the Game was over, I skipped dinner and was first back into the barrack. Something about what I had seen the night before stuck in my head. I went to Cadet Davidner’s bunk, lifted it up, and found this, sir.” Brant reached in his back pocket and pulled a sheaf of folded pages. He took two steps and handed them to Hartfield.
Hartfield accepted the pages, unfolded them and smoothed them out on the desk in front of him. He glanced up at Michael and Dominick. “This is, indeed, the strategic plan for the Badgers.” He looked at Morgan again and added “Such as they are. Cadet Davidner, what do you have to say?”
“Sir? I don’t know, sir. I have never seen that before in my life. If it was under my mattress, I have no idea how it got there.”
“Cadet Hollister?”
“Sir, I have never seen that, either. I think it’s a setup. I think they didn’t like being beaten by a first-year team, and this is their way of getting back at us.”
“Those are serious accusations, cadet, as is the one facing you. Captain Peterson, do you have the records of Brant, Tanner, and Morgan?”
Captain Peterson said, “Of course, sir,” and disappeared into the outer office. He reappeared a moment later and laid three file folders on Hartfield’s desk.
Hartfield never seemed to be in a hurry, and this occasion was no different. He took his time reviewing each file. The room remained dead silent, watching the Commander slowly turn and read page after page.
Wonder what would be on my file? “Sent to Hartfield Academy for breaking a boy’s arm and stealing his father’s car?” That might not play so well with someone like Hartfield.
“All three of these cadets have been here since first year. None of them have any black marks or honor issues.” Hartfield sighed, tapping one finger against the top file. “I don’t like to delay decisions like this, but I need to contemplate what is right. Cadets Hollister and Davidner, I will see you back here at oh-eight-hundred.”
Outside Hartfield’s office, Michael put a hand on Dominick’s arm, looked meaningfully at him and raised his eyebrows.
Dominick met Michael’s eyes and shook his head resolutely. “Nope. It’s a setup.”
“Right. I don’t get it. The Academy preaches honor, honor, honor. So, why risk so much for so little gain?”
“I have no idea. It doesn’t make sense.”
Back at the Turtle’s barracks Brant had made himself scarce. The room had come back to life since Dominick and Michael had left. As soon as they walked back in, everyone gathered around them.
“So, what’s up? Are they building a statue of us out front or something?” Will asked.
“It’s not good, guys,” Michael said. “The Badgers are accusing us of cheating. They say we stole their strategy essay.”
The barrack exploded in indignant questions and cries of “Come on!” and “No way!”
“We didn’t need their stupid strategy,” Will said. “You had it all figured out, Michael.”
Michael held his hand up to quiet them down. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. We told them the truth. We didn’t cheat. It’s up to Hartfield now. He’ll either believe us or he won’t. Either way, we know we didn’t do anything wrong. We know we won fair and square. That might have to be enough.”
After lights out, Dominick could hear Michael tossing and turning on the bunk below him, but relaxed and laid back with his hands under his head.
We told the truth. We didn’t do anything
wrong. Everything will be okay.
Two minutes later, he was fast asleep.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Michael and Dominick decided to skip breakfast the next day. Neither of them felt like eating. They were standing outside Peterson’s office when he arrived at 7:45. Peterson unlocked the door and let the boys into his office, which served as the outer office for Commander Hartfield. Fifteen minutes later, Peterson opened the door to Hartfield’s office. He was already sitting behind his desk.
Holy crap. Does he live in here? Have like a secret Bat entrance? Slide down a fire pole?
“Cadet Davidner. Refresh my memory. How was it that you came to be with us here at the Academy?”
Oh. Okay. I can see which way this is going to go.
“I stole my dad’s car and crashed it into our neighbor’s shed.”
Hartfield nodded. “This car of your father’s—did you have his keys?”
“No sir.”
“How did you manage to start the car, then?”
“I hotwired it.”
“Hotwired it.” Hartfield’s mouth twitched. “Nine years old, unable to see over the steering wheel and reach the gas pedal at the same time, but you knew how to hotwire a car. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How did you gain this unusual skill so early in life?”
Dominick shrugged. “I guess it’s just part of what we learned in the neighborhood.”
“I see. Does this neighborhood education extend to an ability to pick locks at a young age, as well?”
Dominick held Hartfield’s eyes for a long moment, then broke off and looked back out the window.
“Yes, sir, but—“
“Peterson,” Hartfield called, interrupting Dominick in mid-sentence.
“Yes, sir?”
“Where do you keep the strategy reports that the boys turn in ahead of the Game?”
“Locked up in my desk drawer, sir.”
“And the outer office door is always locked when you’re not here, is that correct?”
