by J. P. Castle
“My uncle has cabins on the Ute Indian Reservation south of Durango. I can take half of us there, for now,” said Tracker.
Tracker and her sister Sinew, two Native Americans from the Ute tribe, were highly intelligent. Both always exhibited a relaxed demeanor. They had long, silky black hair with beautiful tan-colored skin.
“They’re gonna kill us ALL. ALL of us, I can feel the rigor mortis stiffening me up already.”
“Shut up, Rani, we don’t need to hear you right now,” said Mazel. Mazel knew all about Rani’s superhuman theatric abilities.
“I’m sorry, where did you come from?” Rani smarted.
“Rani, please,” said Mr. McCrady, turning his attention to a senior named Trent. “It’s a long shot, but Trent, you’ve had your license, for what, two years now? You drive your dad’s horse trailer around. Could you drive the bus to the reservation? It’ll be dark soon, that should provide some cover.”
“I can if I have directions. That’s all I need,” said Trent without hesitation—confident.
“Okay, first, we need to get rid of all these wrist-units, tablets, laptops, licenses, bank cards, and anything else with identifying information on it. Do this while I go back, here’s mine, start with it,” said Bastian. He handed Bryce his wallet. Ledger followed suit, then Caleb.
“Go back? Go back where, Bastian? Did you get a call out to mom or dad?” said Bryce.
“I talked to mom; I’ll explain later. I have to go back to our house to get cash. I’ll have enough for you ‘n the others too, Trent. On the way to Ute, you’ll have to stop, get some new throw-away wrist-units. ONLY Trent keeps a cell for now. Change it weekly. Send me the numbers in an email until I figure this out. Buy a computer at a hub. Set up an email for me ‘n you to communicate [email protected]. We’ll sort out the rest when I return.
“Caleb, Ledger, and I are gonna go back for the cash. We won’t make it anywhere without money. Bryce, go around, collect everything I mentioned. Throw electronics in the lake. Burn the cards, they’ll float,” said Bastian. He jammed a clip into a nine-millimeter gun then stuck it into his pants. Caleb packed a pistol, too.
“Guess all of that target practice at the range with your dad may come in handy,” said Caleb.
“Hopefully, we’ll never have to find out,” said Bastian.
“Bastian,” said Bryce.
“Yeah.”
“Be careful. Watch out for Caleb.”
Bastian almost got the chance to respond when Rani skipped up. She planted a big one on him. “I need you back here safe ‘n sound ASAP Bastian Ballentine,” she said.
Bastian could never remember a time when Rani had ever said anything so caring . . . until she followed up with what sounded much more . . . Rani. “I absolutely can NOT fathom being out here all by my lonesome self—again—tonight.”
Bastian shook his head and turned to Ledger and Caleb. Both gave him a head nod indicating they were ready.
Troian made them each a sandwich. She stuffed it into Bastian’s bag. Rani never would’ve done that, he thought.
“Thanks. It’s Troian, right?” said Bastian.
“Yes, and no problem. Bodies gotta have fuel,” said Troian. Oh my gosh, please don’t let my face turn red. Can’t believe he even knew my name. Bastian knew my name. Troian backed away as Mr. McCrady approached.
“Boys, I can’t help but to say . . . I think this is a bad idea, but I suppose we have no choice, so please, please be careful. We’ll wait for you here and get packed up,” said Mr. McCrady.
THE TRIO LEFT off for the two ‘n half hour hike back to Breckenridge.
“We should be at my house close to dark,” Bastian said. “I didn’t want to mention it to the others yet, but I need to find a file or two my mom told me about in my dad’s office. Mr. McC knows about one of those.”
“It has to do with this?” said Caleb.
“I’m honestly not sure what it is, she did say we’d need them, though,” said Bastian.
“Your dad’s at the CDC, right?” said Caleb. “Does he have any idea what all of this is about?”
“Yes, he’s there, but I haven’t been able to talk to him.”
“You realize we’re wanted Caleb, and you coming along now puts you on the wanted list, too,” said Ledger.
“Yeah, but does it matter. My family’s gone, if what you’re saying is true, and that’s not even processing yet. I mean, less than thirty minutes ago, you basically said the whole towns dead, and we’re now on the lam.”
“Sorry, man, I’m still trying to process it myself. I need to find Brock and get him back. I have no clue where to start. There’s so much we don’t know right now. I hope these files help.”
A little over two ‘n half hours later, the boys came upon the backside of Bastian’s neighborhood. An eerie stillness hung in the night air. Fog from the mountains encumbered visibility.
“You do remember how to work those guns—right guys?” said Ledger.
“Yeah,” said Caleb.
“This ain’t the Greare Country Club firing range out here,” said Ledger.
“I guess you’ve got vast military experience yourself,” said Bastian.
“Now that you mention it, no motocross I don’t, but I did shoot a moose last year to help feed my family. I’m sure you never had to go out and hunt for any food.”
Bastian and Ledger, both juniors, shared a complicated history. Since grade school, they were best friends, or at least they used to be. Both excelled academically and remained equals on the battlefield in any sport.
Bastian used to go over to Ledger’s house until Bastian’s parents found out Ledger’s dad had a problem with alcohol. He was the type of unpredictable alcoholic that, on occasion, tried to clear out the local bar.
By fifth grade, the boys noticed socioeconomic differences between their families. This didn’t matter to them, though, not one bit. They still joined basketball and football at school together.
On the weekends, Bastian competed in motocross events throughout the nation. His parent’s deep pockets knew no limits. He always sported the best dirt bikes and equipment available in the industry.
Bastian’s parents offered to pay Ledger’s way too, so he and Bastian could compete together. But Ledger’s dad wouldn’t allow it. His pride got in the way. He told Ledger motocross racing wouldn’t feed his family in the future—crushing Ledger.
By eleventh grade, Bastian and Ledger had cut all ties, other than being teammates on the school field. Earlier, in ninth grade, a girl named Mary Beth had moved into their school district. Over the summer, a romance blossomed between Ledger and Mary Beth. The two were inseparable.
Not long into their tenth-grade year, Mary Beth went over to Ledger’s house one evening, but he’d left and couldn’t be reached. Mary Beth called Bastian to question Ledger’s whereabouts and said she needed a ride. She explained that Ledger’s mother had asked her nicely to leave, though she didn’t understand why.
Bastian, being close by, offered to pick her up and drop her off at home. On the way to her house, Bastian wrecked his motorcycle, killing Mary Beth. Ledger couldn’t believe his best friend betrayed him like that. His best friend all cozied up with his girlfriend on the back of his bike—now dead.
Ledger told his parents as soon as he found out. Ledger’s dad knocked him around again, blacking his eye, and said, “You see now how stupid you are? I told you a hundred times not to trust those damn Ballentines. Told you they’d screw you over first chance they got. And there you go, Bastian’s out messing around with your girl. You’ll never learn.”
Ledger shut down after that. He refused to entertain any explanations from Bastian. The hurt ran too deep.
THE BOYS WERE in eyeshot of Bastian’s home. “You realize we can’t turn on any lights, right?” said Bastian. The bleak house and the whole empty block sat in silence.
Usually, houses had lights on. People’s televisions glowed through the windows as they sat dow
n to dinner. Others jogged through the park, walked the dog, or worked in their yards. Kids rode their bicycles through Mr. Pittman’s fresh sod while he gave chase across the lawn and sprayed them with the water hose. But, not today.
Bastian started to punch the code into the security alarm, but the alarm panel wasn’t lit up like usual, it was dead. He opened the already unlocked door and turned straight for his dad’s office.
“Someone’s been in here already, it’s a mess,” he said.
“Wow, it’s totally ransacked. Wonder if the jerks found what they wanted?” said Ledger.
The dim light made it difficult to survey.
“Help me move this desk,” said Bastian.
The boys slid the extravagant cherry desk over about four feet. Bastian rolled up the thick European rug to expose a tiny door built into the floor. He searched for a key his dad kept taped beneath the rim of the corner plant.
Caleb and Ledger’s eyes widened when he unlocked the safe. Stacked inside the mini vault—over half a million in cash or more.
“Stay here,” said Bastian. He bolted upstairs and came back with two oversized duffel bags. “Put the money in here. I grabbed us clean clothes for later, too.”
“Thanks, man,” said Caleb.
A file marked ORF sat beneath the money. Mom said the O’s. Could this be the one she was talking about? Bastian snatched up the file. He briefly glimpsed inside, but the dim light made it impossible to read. He crammed it into one of the bags.
“Wait here, there’s supposed to be another file. It must be upstairs,” said Bastian. He darted off.
Caleb and Ledger put the last of the cash into the bags.
A strange voice startled them.
“Freeze punks. Don’t move a muscle, or I’ll blow your heads clean off.”
The boys raised their heads up slow. Two well-armed soldiers pointed their laser guns directly onto their chests.
“You must be Bastian. Been searching for you for a while now. You’ve caused me mountains of trouble, boy. It’s time you joined your brother, my friend.”
Neither Caleb nor Ledger said one word as they traded a fast glance.
“What do we got here . . . oh, haha, came back for daddy’s money stash did ya. Might need that on the run . . . how sweet. You must be Ledger Thomas. Yeah, you’re fit enough to join the test herd, too.”
The strange voices caught Bastian’s attention from the top of the stairs. He froze and carefully set the file down that he’d recovered from his dad’s other secret hiding place. He tiptoed back into his parent's bedroom. Think, think. You’ve got one chance at this.
Bastian sidled down the stairwell wall with two objects he retrieved from his parent’s nightstand drawer. Objects he swore to his parents, he would never touch. But under these conditions, he made an exception. The thick, plush carpet enabled him to sneak up on his prey like a black panther in a jungle.
“Bastian, you are gonna love the new testing lab. And after the hell I’ve listened to about finding you, even threats on my life, I can’t wait to get you there.”
“Actually,”—the soldiers startled at the voice coming out of the darkness from behind—“I’m Bastian,” he said, simultaneously squeezing the triggers on a matched set of his ‘n her taser weapons.
The tasers struck both soldiers in their mid-sections. They charged to raise their guns but lost all muscle control. A single shot rang out. The bullet hit a book on the office shelf. The taser’s fierce electrical grasp seized both the soldier’s ability to move.
Caleb and Ledger vaulted left out of the way to avoid further fire. The soldiers fell to their knees, ending in a nosedive straight onto the hardwood floor.
“Wow, never seen that in person before,” said Caleb.
“No, me either. Pretty effective,” said Ledger.
“Are they out cold?” said Caleb.
“More . . . stunned to the point of immobility,” said Ledger.
“What do we do?” said Caleb.
“Take their weapons,” said Ledger.
“Remove their clothes, too, fast, I’m not sure how long these effects last,” said Bastian.
“Why the clothes?” said Caleb.
“Just hurry, trust me,” said Bastian.
They undressed the soldiers down to their boxers, finding zip-tie handcuffs along the way. Ledger subdued their would-be persecutors, binding the soldier’s hands first, then feet.
“Okay, now what?” said Caleb.
“Here put these sweats on them,” said Bastian.
“What? Why?” said Ledger.
“They’ll freeze outside,” said Bastian.
“Who cares about that?” said Ledger.
“I need them alive,” said Bastian.
“I say let ‘em freeze. They killed our families, had no mercy on them,” said Ledger.
“I understand completely, but I want to question them back at camp. We need to get as much information as we can from these two. We’re also gonna take their truck. Ledger, put his uniform on. Caleb, you’ll ride in the back with them. I’ll wear the other uniform.”
Caleb and Ledger didn’t question Bastian’s decision and went along with the plan. Bastian put on the other uniform then bolted into the garage. He took a roll of duct tape from his dad’s workbench, secured the soldiers again, and added duct tape to their mouths this time. The dazed men began rolling their heads around. Bastian retrieved the second file from upstairs and returned.
“You all ready?” he said.
“Alpha One, this is Blue Beard over.”
“Oh shit, their radios, what do we do?” said Ledger.
“Alpha One, do you copy? Over.”
Bastian picked up the radio to respond. Ledger seized hold of his arm. Bastian’s face tightened as he went to pull away.
“No, stop. Your voice is a little different than theirs, let me do it. I sound more like they do,” said Ledger. He cleared his throat in preparation.
Bastian handed over the radio.
“Alpha One here, over,” said Ledger. Many seconds passed before a response occurred.
“We’re busted,” said Bastian.
A voice finally came back.
“What’s the status on the Ballentine residence, over.”
“All clear, sir, over,” said Ledger.
“Copy that, over.”
“Get them to the truck,” said Bastian. “It won’t take their buddies long to realize these two nimrods are missing.”
Caleb and Ledger loaded the two men, tossed the bags into the back, then jumped into the green military Hummer. Bastian sat in the driver’s seat.
A LOT of gadgets surrounded the dashboard. Ten different buttons for lights, ten more for sirens, windshield wipers, others for road conditions, tire adjustments. The confusing lot may as well have been the cockpit of a jumbo jet.
“Shit man, fire it up, let’s go,” said Ledger.
“Keys, I need keys,” said Bastian.
“Check the pockets,” said Ledger, who found an electronic starter inside of his stolen uniform. “Here, try this.”
“I’ve never driven a stick . . . how hard can it be?”
“Guys, COME on,” said Caleb from the back seat. He kept a steady aim at the two soldier’s heads. “You two might wanna cling tight to that floor down there,” he teased with a half-laugh. “This could get interesting real quick.”
No one shared in his humor right at this moment.
The three knew they’d be roasted ducks if any backup units arrived. Wooun, wooun, wooun, the vehicle jerked, then lurched forward when Bastian let off the clutch.
“This shit sucks,” said Bastian, trying to shift into second.
Grrrrr, grrrrr, the gears cried, grinding, suffering more with each attempt.
“We’re going five miles per hour now . . . be back in no time,” said Bastian in an angry tone.
He fought with the gear shift and wound the tachometer into the red zone, trying to hit third gear. The vehicle
wrenched, then danced forward some more, dying abruptly and jolting them all forward.
“Dude, you let off the clutch too fast,” said Ledger. “Do you need a driving lesson here? Are you sure you don’t want me to try?”
“We’re done for, we’re all gonna be stiffs in a few. We couldn’t even outrun Mrs. Comer’s electric wheelchair right now . . . that is if she were still alive to race us.”
“Shut up, Caleb,” said Bastian.
Wooun, wooun, wooun, the truck bucked forward, a metal bull in a concrete rodeo, then died again.
“What a piece of shit!” said Bastian. He banged his fist down on the dashboard. “Here, I guess you try,” he hopped out to trade places with Ledger.
Once in the driver’s seat, Ledger fired the beast up again. He revved the engine loud two good times. WOOUNE, WOOUNE.
“Sounds sweet, don’t she?” he smirked.
EERRRKKK, the tires spun on the moist pavement, a cloud of smoke gathered behind the vehicle. They made it down the street fluidly, this time. The steel horse—now in capable hands—stopped kicking up its heels. Ledger made a hard right and drove toward the only road leading back to camp.
“How’d you do that?” said Bastian. His competitive nature wouldn’t allow his ego nothing less than a full-blown explanation.
“Look, dummy, all you had to do—flip this switch right here, ‘n it turns into an automatic,” said Ledger. He knew he’d just trampled all over his old pal’s pride, which gave him some momentary pleasure.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“Because you’re the great Bastian Ballentine. You know everything.”
“Bahahaha.” Caleb laughed hysterically in the back. “Bastian, you never get duped, joked, or pranked. Not that time allows for any of this nonsense right now, but this is the best fun I’ve had all day, under the circumstances.”
“SHUT UP CALEB,” said both Bastian and Ledger at the same time.
“By the way,” said Ledger, “thanks for saving our asses back there. That move with the stun guns . . . impressively . . . clever. Couldn’t believe it was you doing it since you’re obviously not as smooth as I am,” said Ledger, stroking one hand down the front of his chest, the other cocked over the steering wheel.
