“Did you see––”
He didn’t get any further because the exasperated guard pointed and said, “They went that way.”
“Call for backup,” Ryan barked at the man, and then he pelted forward into the cemetery, the others following.
They bypassed the Visitor’s Center, a colonnaded, colonial-style building with an enormous glass dome on top, and raced down the nearest pathway.
“Reyna,” Ryan breathlessly called as they ran, “do you have them on your phone?”
Sprinting beside Esteban and Justin, Reyna slipped her bow over her shoulder and opened the home screen on her phone. A map of Arlington appeared, exactly the same as the one on Techie’s computer. The two dots could be seen moving away from them, weaving back and forth along Roosevelt Drive heading east.
“I got ’em,” she shouted. “Follow me!”
And everyone did.
†††
Lance and Ricky were winded and tired and, though neither would admit it, terrified. They pelted and kicked their way along the concrete path, drawing angry glares from tourists who had to leap out of their way. But that was nothing to the screams they heard punctuating the normally reverent silence of the cemetery as the cyclists bore down on the same tourists waving their nail guns threateningly.
Plunk!
A nail struck the grass just past Ricky’s feet.
Pling!
Another struck a gravestone and chipped off a small chunk of the masonry.
Lance began to panic. That one almost got Ricky in the back! They had to get to cover, some place they could turn and fight. But where? There was a path just to their right and Lance swerved onto it. “This way, Ricky!” he shouted.
But in his panic, Ricky kept going, missing the turnoff and continuing to rattle straight along the other pathway. Lance stopped. “Ricky!”
But Ricky couldn’t stop now. The cyclists bypassed Lance and roared after the other boy. Lance’s breath nearly stopped. Frantically, he looked ahead and saw another path not far from this one, going in the same direction. “Ricky, take the path to your right! Hurry!”
And then he unslung his bow and whipped out an arrow faster than most cops could pull their guns. He raised his arms and fired at the cyclist closest to Ricky. The arrow bounced harmlessly off and clattered to the roadway, only to be crunched beneath the wheels of the next cycle. “Shit!” They must be armored up, he realized, desperately thinking of how he might stop them. Then, for some reason, he thought of Achilles, the unstoppable guy in The Iliad whose only weak spot was his heel. He eyed the cyclists moving away from him only a moment before taking aim and firing at the first guy’s heel. The arrow pierced his boot and sunk into the flesh and the man screamed in pain. His cycle spun out from beneath him and the cyclist following crashed right into him, sending both bikes and riders sprawling onto the grass to strike hard against a gravestone.
That was when Lance heard the approaching horse hooves pounding along the path and glanced up with relief to see Dakota and Kai bearing down on the other two cyclists. “Go for their heels!” he shouted as the boys galloped past. Then Lance spotted Ricky on the parallel uphill path. “C’mon, Ricky, I’ll meet you at the top. I got you right here!”
He punched a fist against his heart and saw Ricky grin with gratitude. Then he turned and kicked his board forward as fast as he could. His mind flashed back to the last frantic run he’d made on a skateboard, the one that had saved his Dad, but had gotten him shot in the process. This time he had to save Ricky. He had to!
Panting and heaving, he made his way to the top and found himself at the gravesite of President John F. Kennedy, with its eternal flame burning, and a gaggle of tourists ogling him with a mix of fear and wonder.
He was higher than Ricky, and looked out over a gigantic sloped plaque engraved with words from Kennedy’s most famous speech. The cyclists continued firing nail after nail at Ricky, who’d abandoned his board and now sprinted across the grass in between the gravestones. Nails struck the masonry of these stones and sent chips flying. Lance held his breath, praying and hoping.
“Run, Ricky, here!” he shouted desperately. “You got this!”
Just then the galloping Dakota let loose an arrow. Lance leaned over the small promontory and saw the arrow strike home in the heel of one cyclist. Almost simultaneously, Kai took out the last one in the same manner. Both cycles careened off amongst the gravestones, sending their riders sprawling. The Indian boys raised their bows and war whooped with abandon, and Lance was about to join them when suddenly, from around the trees came a helicopter with a long rope-like grapple device dangling beneath it. And it bore down on the sprinting Ricky.
“Ricky, run faster!” Lance shrieked, his heart in his throat. But he knew it was too late.
Ryan and the others spotted the mayhem as they sprinted down the walkway and split up. Ryan took off after Kai and Dakota and sent the others up the shorter path to Lance. Ryan had his gun raised, but his chest hitched and there was a painful stitch in his side. I’m getting too old for this shit, he thought for the umpteenth time. He saw Dakota and Kai take out the last two cyclists and stopped his forward run with a relieved sigh. But then the helicopter thumped its way around the trees, and his blood ran cold.
Reyna, Justin, and Esteban joined Lance beside Kennedy’s grave and watched in horror as the copter closed in on the pelting and weaving Ricky with a singular purpose. His breath on hold, Lance realized that they planned to capture Ricky, not kill him. And that could be worse. They’d torture him and…
His heart hammered as the swinging grapple unit, which resembled something he’d seen on construction sites, but made of hard plastic, not metal, swooped down on Ricky, clamped itself around his torso, and easily snatched him up off the ground. His legs still ran, but his feet no longer touched the grass.
The unit held him firmly by the waist and around his upper torso as the copter rose and made its way to where Lance and the others stood. Reyna turned to the tourists. “Get out of here, now!”
They scattered.
Ricky struggled and fought, but could not loosen the restraint. He cast a desperate look down in Lance’s direction. “Lance, I can’t get loose!”
Reyna raised her bow to fire, but Lance pushed her arrow down. “No way. You might hit him.”
He surveyed the copter whup whup whupping its way in their direction, and then the angle of the plague proclaiming the slain president’s famous words.
Yes, he could do it.
“Get ready to take down the copter after I get Ricky,” he ordered and ran back a ways from the sloping plaque.
The others looked at him aghast.
“What are you gonna do?” Reyna asked, her eyes wide with fear.
Lance looked at her a moment as he tossed his bow to the ground, his green eyes blazing with intensity. “I’m saving my boy,” he announced with resolve. “Now be ready. You’ll know when.”
And then he launched himself forward along the concrete surrounding the president’s grave. He kicked and pounded harder than even that night a few years back when he’d saved Arthur.
The copter rose higher and higher, but the dangling weight of Ricky slowed its assent, and the struggling boy was only a few feet out, and nearly over the president’s speech.
Lance leapt onto the plaque and sailed upward, launching out over empty space. The board dropped from his feet, but he didn’t care. The momentum had been enough. He slammed into Ricky hard and grabbed onto the boy around the waist. Ricky looked down at him with breathless abandon, but Lance wasn’t done yet. He clambered up, using the claw-like pincher device for leverage, until his face was right up against Ricky’s.
Their eyes locked a moment. “I got you,” Lance whispered, “and I’m never letting you go.” Ricky grinned, despite his heart-pounding fear, and then both turned their heads as the copter rose above the heads of Reyna and the others and continued to rise higher and higher in an attempt to clear the roof of the
three-story Arlington House further up the sloping hillside. Once the home of General Robert E. Lee, the stone house with its six-column portico loomed huge in Lance’s vision as the copter dipped and then rose, and dipped again. It was not a large chopper and apparently hadn’t planned on two boys as captives.
Lance looked up into the cockpit of the helicopter and saw two men, one struggling with the controls to keep the machine steady. Lance lowered his eyes as the house rose grand and spectacular before his eyes. The copter began rising higher and cleared the roof. Now was his chance. Lance knew once they got out over the river they’d be lost. And his arms were already tiring as they dangled and spun in the wind.
“Grab an arrow from my quiver,” he hissed at Ricky, his eyes flicking downward at the steep pitched roof of the house just below them. Ricky instantly snaked one arm around and snatched out an arrow, handing it silently to Lance. Eyeing the approaching roof, Lance said, “Get ready. On three. One, two, three!”
They were right over the pitch where the two sides of the roof came together in a point when Lance used the arrow tip to slice through the rope holding them up. They plummeted downward at an alarming rate, and the sharp pitch of roof rose up to strike at them like a spire from hell.
The moment the boys dropped, Reyna yelled to Esteban and Justin, “Now!”
Three arrows launched simultaneously, and then they whipped out a second and fired even as the first ones struck the copter. The distance seemed too great to do any real damage, but Reyna hoped to at least distract them. It wasn’t working. The pilot obviously knew they’d lost the boys and swung the chopper back around toward the house.
Lance and Ricky plowed into the pitch of the roof with bone-crunching intensity, nearly knocking the wind out of them both. But they landed together and managed to turn on their sides to soften the impact. Unfortunately, that set them to rolling… right toward the edge! The claw arm had disengaged itself once they landed and Lance snatched it from around Ricky even as they rolled, and shoved it in the direction he thought a chimney to be. The device swung around the chimney and Lance held fast the rope, his other hand scrabbling for Ricky. But the other boy was pitching headlong toward the edge and Lance wasn’t close enough. With a cry of fear, Ricky slid over it. He flung out a hand and just managed to grab the rain gutter as he fell, and dangled helplessly by one arm, his shoulder nearly wrenched from its socket and shooting spasms of pain throughout his entire body.
As the chopper swung an arc back toward the boys, the D.C. Metro police arrived on foot. The panting officers began firing at the approaching chopper. Between the arrows and the bullets, Reyna figured the pilot must have had enough, for the copter banked sharply back over the Arlington House and whupped its way out over the Potomac. The cops spotted the boys on the roof and started running in that direction.
Lance’s fall had been slowed by the rope around the chimney, but not enough. He whipped around and yanked an arrow from his quiver and shoved it as hard as he could into the roof shingles. The sharp point dug in and held, and his precipitous slide halted with a jerk to his shoulder. Terrified for Ricky, Lance swallowed his fear and carefully eased his legs up and behind him, rolling onto his stomach and wrapping his feet around the arrow. Then he inched closer to the edge and gasped in terror at the sight of Ricky dangling from one hand, three stories off the ground.
Heart hammering, Lance flung his hand over the side. “Give me your hand!”
Ricky swung slightly, his heart thumping wildly with fear, and threw his free hand upward, but Lance swiped at it and missed. “Again!” Lance shouted breathlessly. Frozen with fear, Ricky hesitated. “Ricky!” Lance shouted desperately. “Give me your hand!”
Ricky swung again and this time Lance was able to clasp his hand around that of the other boy’s. “Now . . . ugh . . . pull . . . up!” Lance grunted, the pain in his shoulder hot and stabbing, as Ricky struggled for some kind of traction. But even his wrestling days had never prepared him for that kind of hand and arm strength, and he couldn’t do it. His wide, brown eyes gazed up at Lance hopelessly. He saw Lance sliding. They were both going to fall.
“Let me… go, Lance,” Ricky begged, almost without breath. “If you… don’t––” He gasped for breath, his voice straining as he fought to hang on. “––we’re both… gonna fall!”
Lance shook his head emphatically, even as he slid closer to the edge, his feet slipping from around the arrow under Ricky’s extra weight. Lance locked his eyes on those of his other half. “You go… I go,” he croaked, his voice barely able to function from the pressure against his chest and lungs.
Just then he heard, “Lance!” and looked to his right to see Kai scrambling up onto the roof from the adjoining wing beneath the twin chimneys. Kai grabbed the claw device from around the chimney and tossed it up and over the pitch of the roof, holding on to the rope as he did. Once he felt the rope grow taut, he ran across the steep sloping roof to Lance’s feet and tied the rope around them.
Lance had never been so happy to see anyone in his entire life. With the rope around him, his sliding motion ceased. Lance glanced gratefully at Kai easing himself carefully down onto the slope behind him. But then Ricky suddenly lost his grip on the rain gutter and swung wildly out over the drop, with only Lance’s hand holding him. And Lance’s sweaty grip was slipping.
“Kai!” he shouted.
The Navajo boy scooted as fast as he could down the steep sloping roof and peered over the edge. “Oh, shit!” he muttered, and then carefully stretched himself out onto his stomach so he could reach over the edge for Ricky’s flailing hand.
“Lance!” Ricky screamed. “I’m gonna fall!”
The pain in Lance’s shoulder was excruciating, but he fought it back. “Like… hell… you… are!” he asserted breathlessly and squeezed Ricky’s hand with all his waning strength.
“Give me yer other hand!” Kai shouted, his head over the edge and his right arm flailing about for Ricky’s free hand.
Ricky twisted his body and made a grab for Kai’s hand. He nearly missed, but the Indian seemed to sense where the hand would be and snatched it from the air and clamped onto the wrist.
“Pull!” Lance called to him, and the two boys struggled to pull the flailing Ricky up and over the edge. But the slope was too steep and even with Lance’s feet secured, Kai’s weren’t, and there wasn’t enough purchase.
Suddenly, Lance heard galloping horse hooves and glanced down in shock to see Dakota pelting toward them on his horse. Only he wasn’t sitting on the horse––he was standing on it! The saddle was gone and so were Dakota’s boots. Lance’s mouth dropped open, and he could hear a gasp of surprise from Kai beside him. Still holding the reins, the bare-footed Dakota stood atop the horse like some kind of circus performer and brought the mare to a stop directly below the dangling Ricky. He whipped his head around to Esteban.
“Este!”
The man didn’t hesitate. He pelted forward across the grass to gape in awe at Dakota standing atop the horse.
“Climb up and get on my shoulders,” Dakota said calmly.
Esteban’s face registered momentary shock, and a trace of fear at the prospect of clambering up onto the enormous animal. But as he realized what Dakota was suggesting, determination to save his carnales won out, and he held out one hand. Dakota grabbed it while Esteban awkwardly swung a foot into the stirrup. With a forceful pull by Dakota, Esteban was up and onto the back of the horse. Eyes wide with fear, Esteban glanced back at the terrified face of Reyna. She blew him a kiss and that strengthened his resolve.
He marveled at Dakota’s strength as the smaller youth practically yanked him to his wobbly feet atop the horse. Then Dakota squatted down for Esteban to clamber up onto his back. The Indian boy’s footing never wavered, as though standing on horses was a daily ritual.
Shaking with uncharacteristic fear, Esteban climbed up Dakota’s back to his shoulders. The Indian remained rock solid beneath him, impressing Esteban beyond words, when
he wasn’t thinking about falling. Holding Dakota’s head, Esteban placed first one foot and then the other on each shoulder. Dakota’s hands flew up and Esteban felt the Indian’s iron grip encircling each ankle. Then Dakota rose to his full height, and a quaking Esteban gingerly rose to his.
“We’ll push and you pull!” Dakota shouted up at Lance and Kai, who’d watched in stunned amazement the prodigious strength and courage of their two brothers.
Before either boy on the roof could react, Esteban reached upward cautiously for Ricky’s dangling feet and, still standing atop Dakota’s rock-steady shoulders grabbed one of Ricky’s shoes in each hand and pressed the boy upward, lifting almost all of Ricky’s weight above his head. Lance and Kai were both so flabbergasted that they momentarily forgot to pull, but as Ricky’s weight went from dead to supported, and his head got closer to the roof edge, both boys pulled with all their might.
Below, Reyna, Justin, Ryan and the cops stared in openmouthed astonishment as Esteban lifted Ricky all the way up to his arms’ length, like a cheerleader at a football game. For his part, Dakota’s feet never wavered, and the horse beneath them seemed to sense the need for stillness and didn’t move a muscle.
Lance and Kai hauled upward, sweat pouring forth and soaking their tank tops like they’d been swimming. But with Esteban pushing from below, Ricky was able to fling his elbows and arms up onto the roof. With his free hand, Lance snaked back to snatch another arrow from his quiver, thrusting it into the shingles near the edge for Ricky to have something to grab onto. Ricky did, and pulled himself up. He felt Esteban’s hands disappear as first he threw one leg up onto the roof and then the two boys pulled him the rest of the way.
The three terrified, sweaty boys flopped exhaustedly back against the sloping roof, their heads aimed at the peak, panting and heaving as their hearts pounded frenetically. They were alive! Every muscle in his body ached, but Lance had never felt so relieved. He reached out one hand and found Ricky’s. They locked eyes and smiled tiredly, thankful beyond measure. Then Lance swung out his other arm and found Kai’s hand, taking it gratefully in his. He turned his head toward the other boy and grinned, mouthing a wearied, “Thank you.” The panting Kai grinned right back.
And The Children Shall Lead Page 30
