The Path of the Templar

by W. Peever

  "Let's give him ten minutes. That's enough time for him to check out the old man and get back here."

  "And after that?" Mick asked of his leader and best friend.

  "Then we go after him, Mick." Charlie peered out from behind the rack of novelty cakes at the girls. "We're not going to leave a member behind. We'll find him, or… we'll find something else." He'd struggled for the right conclusion, and was aware the one he'd come up with was not all that inspiring.

  Mick vacantly nodded tentative approval, and the two of them turned to tell the girls their decision. It wasn't much of a plan, and Charlie was sure anyway Bailey would object to them separating. But they couldn't risk the astrolabe. Someone would have to stay behind and protect it. She'd understand that. As the yellow cloud of packaged creamed-filled deliciousness passed the boys' vision yet again, it occurred to Charlie that foregoing Twinkies was one thing; sacrifice might become a word with a much deeper meaning to all of them in the near future.

  Surreal didn't quite cover it—describing the scene that greeted them, of the two girls laughing up a storm. Was it hysteria from the tension? The boys looked past them to see a bright red convertible coming to a screeching halt outside the store—one of those cars you see at the end of a Fourth of July parade. Lounging in the driver's seat, in dark glasses for effect, was Colin.

  "Well mate, the boy has style," said Mick. "And he's solved our transportation problem."

  Colin waved for them to join him. Tillie was already bursting through the door and landed in the front seat, draping her long arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek—not to give him too much of a good thing. The others, taking the couple's lead, were consigned to the back. "Buckle up, we need to get out of here!" yelled Colin, taking off the shades and all business. In one last gesture of teen rebellion, he gunned the engine and caused the tires to scream loud again as the reunited fivesome took off into the warm summer night.

  "So enlighten us," Charlie instructed a little coldly, more than a little miffed at developments in the front seat. "What happened? The old man okay?"

  "Do you see him here?" Colin snapped back, revolted by the gruesome vision of the real Armest that reappeared. "Never mind—not your fault. We're in more trouble than we thought."

  Bailey rolled her eyes. "Ya think?"

  "No. I know. And it's no time for your childish eyerolling either—if that's what you're doing as usual." All saw that this was a rapidly matured Colin who commanded respect. "The old man that took us in was no Knight Templar—no white knight of any kind."

  The four, bewildered, waited in spellbound silence for him to go on.

  "I found a Templar in the apartment. He was old, yes —but a different man and he had the genuine tattoo. He was dead, all bloodied—slaughtered." Colin's words stuck in the back of his throat. "Seems obvious he was murdered by that other old guy, if he was really old—spry enough to overpower and torture…" Colin stopped himself before going into detail for the younger kids' sake, and to save himself re-experiencing the whole thing. The added hurt of what had happened to a fellow Templar was almost too much to bear. "He killed the real guard of the Path, whatever his name was."

  Tillie put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It must have been horrible. I'm so sorry, Colin." She turned behind her and glared, as if it was all Charlie's fault.

  Colin continued almost unaware of Tillie's comforting, fixated on what lay ahead. "It means they'll stop at nothing to get to what's at the end of the Path— absolutely nothing."

  All sat in thoughtful silence but for the hum of the engine and the tires ticking over on the road. Moments lengthened into a dull nothingness that threatened to lull them into a quietly despairing paralysis.

  "The question is," said Mick with unbridled optimism, like trying to solve a riddle in a puzzle book, "why didn't they—he or them—just kill us when we were showering and eating? Why let us live?"

  "They don't have the astrolabe. They might not even know that it exists!" answered Bailey, impatient again with her big friend, whom she rated clumsy in more ways than one. "I bet they found out about the Tower, tried to find the runes, maybe even found them. But they have no idea what to do with them."

  Bailey's reasoning gave everyone renewed hope.

  "Right," said Colin, as if confirming his leadership over Bailey and the rest. "But right now we need to find a gas station, fill this cab up and get a map."

  "Great plan but, if you didn't notice, we don't have any money." Bailey wasn't giving up her brains-of-the-outfit role.

  "I found a wallet in the Templar's bedroom—credit cards and a lot of cash." Colin sounded dismissive as new, young leaders whose power goes to their heads are apt to.

  Bailey wasn't through being helpful. "Let's get new clothes, food and water, gas up the car, and a road map to find out where we're going. I'm guessing this astrolabe acts like a compass, so if we line it up with the compass rose of a map we should discover the location."

  A summer evening breeze blew against their faces in the convertible. The green smell of the countryside rested them from the hectic pace of the past few days. Darkness closed in on this country highway, Route 295, broken only by sporadic lampposts on alternate sides. After a while townhouses began to materialize more thickly around them.

  Colin slowed the car. "Keep your eyes open for a shopping center that we can blend into and get the supplies we need."

  "How about this?—I can see a Home Depot sign," offered Mick.

  "Let's try it," responded Colin cautiously, reading the neon signs as they got closer. "Dunkin' Donuts—might be a good idea to caff-up if we're driving overnight. We need to make this fast."

  Colin pulled into the parking lot, narrowly missing a bright orange carriage with the unaccustomed length of his new car. "Let's split up: Bailey with me to the hardware— rope, flashlights and the rest; Mick, sporting goods and freeze-dried food; Tillie and Charlie, coffee, donuts, sandwiches. Everyone clear?"

  Reacting to Colin's tone of command, the kids leapt to it. Charlie felt exhilarated hopping the door, like in The A-Team or some other ubercool 1980s movie. Bailey did an eye-roll.

  The automatic doors opened with a whoosh of freshcut wood and wet paint. Colin, intent on business, took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair absentmindedly. It amazed and annoyed Bailey that even after all the blood, sweat and smoke, he still had nice hair. A small part of her would have liked to feel her fingers in it… she broke out of the trance by forcing herself to say something mundane.

  "So, what do you want me to pick up? I see some self checkouts, so we could buy almost anything without getting carded and caught." She was feeding Colin the seed of an idea.

  "Why not get a whole lot of stuff," he said out loud to himself. "Let's grab a couple of carts—each take a credit card and get loading."

  Colin grabbed three shovels at his first stop, a pickaxe and other digging tools. Bailey was at the saws when some coveralls caught her eye. Their cloaks were warm and practical, but not for what could turn out to be an archeological dig. She pictured Indiana Jones—a weak 'Mick' moment—and collected thickly padded pants, coats and work boots in a variety of sizes.

  Colin looked into her basket. "Well done—we might blend in with the general populace done up in all that."

  "My thoughts exactly," Bailey agreed, glad of the appreciation.

  Mick was indulging his spirit of adventure. The difference between life and death in the Australian Outback was a water bottle, a knife and iodine tablets to kill any greeblies in river water. He guessed there might be raccoons in these parts. They did unthinkable things in lakes and rivers, and you'd end up doing unthinkable things for a week. He took three blue bottles for the boys and two pink ones for the girls, grinning in anticipation of the stink Bailey would kick up. He was sure to end up with a pink one, but it'd be worth it. Now, iodine tablets, freeze-dried food… these Yanks and their conveniences—individually packaged beef stroganoff, ch
icken primavera, bean enchiladas, apple pie, lasagne, turkey a la king. "Oh, can't forget the Astronaut ice cream— the last but not least of all the essential food groups," Mick told himself, pleased with his judicious choices for wellrounded meals.

  Back at the car early, Tillie and Charlie were stymied by one awkward moment after another between hopeless stabs at stilted conversation. It seemed to Charlie everything had been going so smoothly for the two of them until Colin arrived on the scene. All he did now was listen to Colin, and do whatever he said. The more he thought about it the madder he grew till finally erupting like a volcano holding back its molten insides to the last minute when the pressure was irresistible.

  Charlie could almost feel himself melting inside too. "So, what did I do wrong?" he heard himself shouting. "I mean…you kissed me when we left school…you envisioned me in my underwear…well sort of, in that vision…was was that?"

  Tillie placed her hand on his mouth to stop the torrent before he said something he couldn't take back. "I'm sorry, Charlie. I should have been honest when it happened…I had two visions today, one with you in your boxer shorts, and the second of you lying, dead—so much blood, so much…if I allow myself to get close…" Tears welled up in her eyes as she held Charlie's shoulders at arm's length. Charlie reached out to enclose her small frame, his fingers tangling in her golden curls.

  Charlie shook his head, "I would never hurt you, Tillie. I…"

  She pushed him back gently. "When I was five my aunt and uncle adopted me. My parents died in a house fire…and a part of me died that day. My mother's twin sister and her husband, I love them like parents. They gave up having children so I would have everything I wanted. But I always felt empty…if I lost you I'm not sure I could recover. I'm afraid the emptiness would just consume me."

  As Mick bounded towards the car, Tillie turned her back to dry her eyes.

  "Hey!" called Mick, oblivious. "Did you know they can fit a whole apple pie into a tiny plastic bag that weighs less than four quarters? Can't wait to see how it tastes."

  "Did you get the map?" asked Tillie, eager to make conversation about everyday things and rummaging through the bags as if nothing had happened, but careful to keep her head down until her red eyes had recovered.

  "Ya, it's in my back pocket, with a compass just in case." Mick sounded proud of using his initiative.

  "You know how to use a compass?" Charlie asked, with a hollow laugh.

  "Took a course in the mall once," he shrugged back.

  "What's taking the others so long?" Charlie said quickly, as if suddenly anxious to move on, maybe even start a new phase of his life. "Let's get going!"

  "Maybe all that crap." Tillie laughed, almost too loudly, as she saw two huge baskets full, trundling towards them. "Looks like they bought out the store," she added in a tone sounding somewhat sardonic, so different from her usual self.

  "Makes sense if you think about it," replied Mick. "I would've got a whole lot more if I had a credit card."

  Tillie got out to help Colin pile the goods into the car. "Better get going," said Colin.

  "Yeah, that's just what I was saying," Charlie chipped in quickly. "But our leader wasn't here."

  Bailey peered at Charlie and saw a strange look on his face, one she'd never seen before.

  "This could be the first place they check, now that they can't track us." Colin went on, unaware. "I say we get some space between this burg and us, stop for a grub break and take a look at the map." Without waiting for any approval, he pulled back on to the highway. "Everything all right?" he asked Tillie as an afterthought. "You look…tired, I guess."

  "Oh…it must be this wind blowing in my eyes."

  "I'll roll the top up," said Colin, thinking to solve a small problem. Women, even little girls, took so much attention.

  Chapter Eleven Bumps in the Night

  The dotted yellow lines on the highway passed by them in a blur, only the rhythm of road-thumping tires disturbing the silence. There was something freeing in the warm evening air rushing by them. If it wasn't for the palpable hush among the five friends it would have been perfect. Colin glanced over his shoulder.

  "That's fifteen miles. Has anyone seen any signs, or have a clue where we are?"

  Charlie made sure he chipped in first. "We must still be in Rhode Island. There's been no Welcome-toMassachusetts sign. You don't know where we are?" Charlie asked a little petulantly, hoping to show Colin up. Bailey looked at her best friend, confused by his new attitude.

  "Route 295's turning east here, and we need to keep moving north," Colin replied, gesturing to the dashboard compass.

  "Rhode Island's a tiny state—its roads need to be windy so it can fit them in," Mick offered unhelpfully, half because he sensed his closest mate, Charlie, was trying to get at Colin; half to try and defuse what seemed suddenly an edgy atmosphere.

  Colin wasn't put off. "We need to take a look at the map, but I don't want to stop anywhere on the main highway in case the Vanari are tracking us."

  A sign appeared in the headlights indicating a turnoff on to Route 146. Charlie pointed it out, getting the drop on Colin. "Let's turn here, and find a place to eat." The others stayed quiet, trying to ignore the subtle points-scoring. Colin exited.

  Passing a couple of unpromising coffee shops, they were in lonely country by the time Bailey, anxious for a break from Charlie's self-induced claustrophobia, spotted something.

  "There, look!" she shouted, pointing wildly at a neon sign that advertised the best pizza in the tri-state area. "We can sit down, have a slice…"

  "Or three," Mick suggested. "Bob and Timmy's Pizza! Sounds good—not very Italian, but I'll settle," Mick added, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.

  Colin pulled up to its brick facade draped in an awning of Italian flag colors, more in hope than conviction. "All your American pizza joints look the same," complained Colin. He shook his head.

  "Mmm, must try that Scottish pizza," Charlie said, hoping the sarcasm wasn't lost on Colin.

  "Yeah, with the tartan flags outside our pizza places," Mick added, supporting his friend.

  The five of them took a seat at one of the long booths while Charlie, showing conspicuous leadership, strode up and ordered two large cheese pizzas. Mick had seen that walk, the whole attitude, somewhere before—in the old western movies where the gunslinger sidles up to the bar and demands rotgut whiskey from the barkeep.

  "Traditional or wood-fired?" enquired a guy who must have been either Bob or Timmy.

  "One of each. Make mine a double cheese," demanded Charlie with a wry smile and a crisp fifty dollar bill.

  The man smiled and gave Charlie a slip of paper with number 24 on it. Charlie nodded his thanks, and would have tipped his Stetson if he had one, before sauntering—a little bowlegged, Mick thought—back to the table where Bailey had laid out a map of New England. "Okay, we are here." She pointed to a red line named Route 146. "In between Globe and Forestdale. Hand me the astrolabe, Charlie." Brought down to earth, Charlie fumbled in his pocket and yanked out the bulky instrument, looking like a huge, ornate pocket watch. Bailey placed it directly below the spot she had pinpointed on the map. The astrolabe's arrow spun and then rocked back and forth till it came to rest almost dead north. Bailey used a menu as a ruler and drew a line on the map following the arrow.

  "Okay, so that's the direction we need to follow," said Charlie superfluously, just applying his leader's stamp of approval.

  All heads turned as the bells above the restaurant door tinkled and two men in black entered and sat at a booth near the door. The taller one hung up their long coats and ordered. The other glanced sharply over at them.

  In a quieter voice Charlie continued. "If my math is right, the astrolabe says we have about thirty miles to cover."

  Bailey checked the map's legend and spanned her fingers on it as a scale to determine where that was. "It looks like Upton, Massachusetts." She was too loud for Charlie, too late slapping her arm and motion
ing his head toward the newcomers.

  "Their faces are buried in menus and they've already ordered." Tillie observed, though not wanting to awaken herself to the implications.

  "Pizza to go, anyone?" asked Colin rhetorically, fully aware of the danger. "Let's pack up and get out of here— find a safe place to camp."

  "Camp?" said Tillie almost mortified.

  "Quickly." Colin countered.

  The five headed out while staring hard for any reaction from the men. There was none, but neither had they touched their meal. Colin's car peeled off from the curb as soon as everyone was in, throwing the occupants around without warning or apologies. If they could get out of sight fast, their followers had no way of being certain which turnoff they might take, or even if they were hiding to double back later. In quicker time than anyone knew they were welcomed across a state border and to Upton. The town center was quaint Massachusetts Midwestern: two white steeple churches, a post office near the central rotary, diners' spots.

  Bailey pointed to a large green area on the map. "Off to the left there's a state forest or something, and it's in the general direction we want to head."

  "No turnoff here," said Colin, pulling the convertible skillfully in one motion around to the back of the church adjacent, He jerked on the brakes in the shadow of a giant pine tree. "Grab the gear and let's hike it out."

  Colin grabbed a map from the trailhead kiosk. "No sense looking for the next clue till morning…okay, we walk a half mile into that pine grove and pitch the tent."

  The others, including Charlie, were not inclined to argue at this point. All recognized that, in a squeeze, Colin was the decisive, authoritative one. Besides, it just came instinctively to follow someone older.

  It was cooler under the pine canopy, though the tall tree trunks created a spooky effect that enfolded them. Each crunch of their feet on brittle pine needles only heightened their senses to imaginary dangers. Soon they came to a place that Colin deemed the right one. Five nervous kids crammed into a two-person Coleman tent, and were glad of the closeness. If anything threatened one of them it would have to take on all of them.