Charlie and Kevin were stretched out on Jack’s bedroom floor, tinkering with his new train set. Everything seemed to be great, but Jack still couldn’t shake the fear they might dump him for being such an embarrassment in the outfield. He couldn’t help looking for telltale signs. Is everything still okay? Are they just hanging out with me because I’m the only one with a train set and none of the other kids will know?
“The Germans certainly know how to make a train,” said Charlie. “The only problem is, you have more track than bedroom. You could use it all if we made a loop run under your bed and out the other side.”
Jack nodded, so Charlie said, “Hand me one of those switches, Kevin.”
Kevin passed it over. “I overheard my dad talking about the Nazis last night. What he said struck me as strange, and at the same time kinda scary. A few weeks back he was off doing something with the German Army. What, I have no idea. Anyway, he went out drinking with a bunch of German officers who were former Luftwaffe officers. I mean, word from the bird, these guys had been Nazi Air Force officers. My dad said something to them about the Germans having such a good Air Force during the war. An old colonel, who was a little drunk, said something like, ‘Give us another Luftwaffe, and we’ll conquer the world!’ His German buddies quickly hustled him out.” Kevin looked at his friends. “Is that eerie, or what?”
Charlie gave an involuntary shiver. “You’re right. Definitely scary.”
“Do you think the Germans are really planning to try and take over the world again?” asked Kevin.
“I don’t know,” said Jack, thinking it over. “It’s possible. Otherwise, why would the younger officers try to shut him up?”
“I dunno,” replied Kevin. “Maybe the guy was just drunk and shooting his mouth off.”
Jack shook his head. “No, something’s definitely going on. I heard something, too.” He relayed his parent’s conversation on the balcony.
“So you’re saying if they come back and attack us, it will be from the northeast?” asked Charlie.
“Dad said, ‘Probably,’ right before he told my mom it wasn’t all that likely.”
Charlie’s knee started bouncing up and down. “Maybe he just said that to calm her down. And what about all the other stuff we’ve heard?”
“What stuff?” demanded Kevin.
Jack related what the older kids said to each other the morning the tanks rolled. Then he told Kevin about the joke they’d overheard at the airport about Hitler coming back to power.
“When we were on the ship coming over,” Jack added, “one of the naval officers told us the American military was in Germany to prevent another war. So maybe we’re here ’cause the Nazi’s are coming back.”
When Charlie told him about The Watcher, Kevin was barely breathing.
Kevin studied his friends and finally took a deep breath. “We need to find that spy. We need to figure out what’s going on with the Nazis.”
“Yeah,” said Jack. “It feels like there’s an enemy empire out there getting ready to crush us. Unfortunately we’re totally in the dark about who they are.”
“Dark is the right word,” Charlie said, grimly. “Boys, we’re up against a Dark Empire. Time to figure out who they are and where they are.
Jack was by himself in his room. Recently he’d been spending a lot of time in there working on his train set. And not just because he liked it. Something about the work helped him think over stuff. Things he’d normally avoid. The work somehow freed his mind to think about Little League, Kerrigan, the Sevens, the Nazis, his shutting down, and even Ingrid.
Unlike the other things, he puzzled over Ingrid because he liked her. The more she became part of their lives, the more intel came his way. For example, he’d made a note that she never got any phone calls. And one time when a letter from his grandma arrived, he realized that Ingrid never got any mail from her family. In fact, she got no mail at all. He logged that in the back of his mind as somehow worrisome. Was she really all alone in the world? Why?
Little League and Kerrigan were the most urgent, and they took up most of his brainpower.
He put a railroad car back on the track but, for the third time, its wheels weren’t lining up correctly. Jack wasn’t concentrating on the task. Instead, he was imagining himself on the Little League bus, isolated and miserable. Even though Charlie and Kevin told him not to sweat it, he still worried he’d lose his best friends over being a klutz at sports.
He blamed his eyes. He hated his eyes. But there was nothing he could do about not having 3D vision. Seeing in 2D was what made it hard to catch. Should he say something to his parents? Forget it. They knew about the problem. His dad would just say to suck it up and move on. Should he tell the coach or the other players? That was never gonna happen! He was already pathetic enough without piling on lame excuses.
So much for processing time—Jack was still in a box.
A week later, Lt. Col. McMasters came home with a giant train board tied to the top of the Roadmaster. It was so large, it took his dad and a huge guy to get it up the three flights of stairs to their quarters and into Jack’s room. What most stunned Jack was the landscape painted on the board. There were big brush strokes of different shades of green and brown showing fields and forests, dark charcoal for the roads, blue and purple splashes making up a stream that flowed across the board into a lake.
“Jack, this is Corporal Harding,” his dad said. “He works for me now, but before he joined the Army, Harding was a professional artist.”
“Your dad told some of his men you got a train set for your birthday,” said Harding. “So, as a favor to the colonel, the men got together and made you this train board and the sawhorses to hold it up.”
“Wow.” It was all Jack could think to say.
Corporal Harding smiled. “Jack, that was all fine and good, but I gotta tell you, once we got it built, the board looked a bit naked. So I decided to whip out my brushes and paints, and see if I could dress it up a little. I hope the landscape I came up with works well for you.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, simply amazed. “You’re a really great artist. It’s perfect. I’m gonna call it Wunderland.”
Corporal Harding’s smile got even broader. “I’m glad you like it. And that’s a swell name. How’d you come up with it so fast?”
“I guess ’cause my sisters and I like Germany so much that we call it Wunderland. That’s the German word for Wonderland. And this board looks just like Germany.”
The corporal knelt on one knee to look Jack in the eye. “I really am glad you like it. I painted this board for you, and for your father, because we Army guys stick together. We help each other out. For me, the Army is my family, and family sticks together. Sound good, Jack?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh, you don’t have to call me sir. I work for a living.” His eye twinkled as he looked up at the colonel, who seemed to be smirking at an inside joke.
Jack didn’t know what the joke was, but he loved his train, and he sure was glad to get the board.
During school the next day, Jack and Charlie had a minor run-in with Kerrigan. They’d been out on the playground and watched as Kerrigan held the attention of a group of kids. Some were older.
“How’s he do that?” Jack wondered aloud.
“What?” Charlie asked.
“Well, the guy’s a psycho, right? He’s definitely not what anyone would call a nice guy.”
“So?”
“So why are they listening? Especially those older kids.”
“Dunno. Let’s wander over there and see what they’re up to.”
As they approached, one of the older kids said, “How much?”
Kerrigan quickly stuffed what looked like a Nazi helmet into his backpack. Then he whipped around and glared at Jack and Charlie. “Get lost, McMasters. I’d spell it out, but I’m n
ot sure you could sound out the letters.”
It took everything Jack had in him to turn away.
Jack and Charlie were almost out of earshot when they heard Kerrigan say to the guys around him, “So, you interested in it?”
Jack and Charlie kept walking. “He’s selling Nazi stuff,” whispered Charlie. “Wonder where he got it.”
“Dunno,” Jack said.
That evening Jack finished the dishes in record time. He wanted more train time to grind on Kerrigan.
How’s he getting kids to follow him? He’s intimidating. He’s mean. He’s violent.
He plugged more track together. Kerrigan’s also smart and good at controlling his gang. He’s helped them believe they’re somebody.
Jack thought back on the scene of Kerrigan coming toward them when they’d been playing Cowboys and Indians at the pillbox. Kerrigan hadn’t just been with kids his age. There had been older kids. He remembered them moving through the forest like a well-disciplined military unit. Kerrigan had been out in front, walking point, leading the squad. He’d just taken a knee and had been passing back hand signals. Kerrigan had real leadership skills.
Everyone, even the older kids, obeyed his commands without hesitation. How’s that possible?
He rummaged through the box for some curved track to route around the pond painted on the train board. And why do the Sevens let Kerrigan hang out with them? He’s two grades younger than they are. Maybe Kerrigan had something they wanted—like that Nazi helmet.
As he snapped two pieces together, something clicked in his brain. Kerrigan and the Sevens aren’t hunting for the Nazis. They’re hunting for Nazi stuff to keep or sell. They don’t want us in the woods in case we find something before they do. . . . Bingo!
By their fifth Little League practice, Jack realized playing outfield had two advantages: few balls reached him, and he had a prayer of catching the ones that did.
He was so far out, it took longer for the ball to arrive. That gave him enough time to adjust his position two or three times as he figured out where and when it would land. One afternoon, Jack actually caught a long bomb, and Kevin gave him an amazed thumbs-up.
After that, Charlie and Kevin started helping Jack catch long balls. They’d practice most afternoons in front of The Glass House. Jack never got great at catching, but his friends did help him improve his game and calm his fears that they would ditch him. Even so, he still wished Little League would just go away.
One afternoon Jack was in the outfield, bored and unfocused. Just when he realized the whole team was yelling at him, a long ball whizzed low over his head. He’d been so lost in a daydream he hadn’t even known the ball was hit, much less in his direction. But he was wide awake for the groans of all his teammates.
Jack had had enough.
He barely held on until the inning ended. He headed for the dugout with the others, but, instead of entering, walked right past and didn’t stop until he was all the way back to The Glass House. He just wanted his old life back, his life before baseball.
He didn’t see Kevin or Charlie until the bus ride to school the next morning.
Jack decided on a preemptive strike. “I’m done with baseball. I hate standing there waiting to make an idiot of myself.”
“But you were getting better,” said Kevin. “I told the coach you started to feel sick and went home. Thought that would keep him off your back.”
“Thanks.” Jack didn’t know what else to say.
For the next two days, when Kevin and Charlie went off to Little League, he stayed home, alone, working on his train set. He accomplished almost nothing.
He had assumed that after practice Charlie and Kevin would come by to play. But they must have gotten preoccupied with other stuff on the way home, because they never showed. Not the first day, and not the second day. Jack dreaded the third.
But Kevin and Charlie did come by after practice that afternoon.
Out of the blue, Kevin said, “We all want to be warriors, right?
Jack sensed a trap. “Yeah. So?”
“Well, don’t you know about the Spartans?”
“I know they were great warriors in ancient Greece.”
“Great?” Kevin said with delight. “They were way better than great. The Spartans were one of the most feared military forces of all time. A Spartan was the M-48 tank of his day, and all he had was a spear, a sword, a shield, and some body armor. One Spartan was worth several men in any other army. That’s ’cause Spartans started military training when they were babies. By our age, their life was focused on two things: war tactics and sports. Spartans believed sports were critical to becoming a real warrior.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Spartans didn’t play baseball.” Then, hesitating, he finally added, “Besides, what’s the coach gonna say if I just show up again?”“We’ve got that covered,” said Charlie.
Kevin grinned. “We’ve been telling him you’re home sick. Didn’t you wonder why he hadn’t called your parents?”
I was too busy wondering why you hadn’t called.
“So forget the coach. Think about the Spartans,” said Kevin.
Jack shrugged. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
Little League practice was just as painful as ever, but a load was off his shoulders, and working on his train set had become fun again. He hurried home to work on the board. Except he couldn’t get anywhere near it. Some days, Rabbit and Ingrid had a parade of stuffed animals marching down the hallway to the bedrooms. Every other day, Queenie, Camila Alvarez, Liz Harrison, and a bunch of other girls were hanging around the bathroom so Ingrid could show them how to do their hair in different styles. Lately, it seemed like all Queenie and her girlfriends wanted to do was hang out with Ingrid.
While Jack had a very low tolerance for this girly, girly stuff, he was still okay with Ingrid. Mainly because she sometimes did things just with him. In fact, one afternoon shortly after he’d gotten his train set, she had taken him along with her to Göppingen. That’s when she’d introduced him to the hobby store where his father had bought his Fleishmann train. It instantly became his favorite place in Göppingen. He bought a dining car that afternoon, but it took him almost an hour to make up his mind; he wanted just about everything in the store.
He especially liked a model of a rock quarry but thought it wouldn’t fit with Wunderland.
Ingrid said, “But it would! Last Sunday, I was out with a guy, and we took a ride up to the Hohenstaufen. At the bottom of the mountain we found a rock quarry like this model.”
“You go on . . . what’s the word in German for when a guy asks you to go out?”
“Auf ein Date gehen? Is that what you are asking?”
Weird, Jack thought. We say ‘going on a date’ and they use the same word in German. I guess that’s one German word I won’t forget. Then, unable to contain himself, he said to her, “Yes, that’s it. So, do you go on dates?”
“Don’t you think I’m pretty enough?” she said, flirting with him.
Jack went red. He had no response in either German or English.
On his second trip to the hobby store, Jack fell in love with an old mill with a water wheel. It came as a kit to assemble with model glue. The problem was he didn’t have enough money to buy it. He finally settled on a small farmhouse, which was half the price.
Jack loved his train set, but he worked on it mostly when he needed time alone. Jack’s train set had become his private sanctuary, his place to think.
He spent the next several days carefully building that farmhouse, while his brain was preoccupied with Kerrigan. As he attached a piece of the model, he examined another piece of intel he had on the guy.
Unfortunately, unlike the model that came with all required parts and specific assembly instructions, it was clear to Jack that he didn’t have all the pieces when it came to Kerrigan. Nor did he
have a clear idea of what Kerrigan was up to. That worried him.
He mentally turned over the pieces he did have. I know he and his gang are out in the woods trying to find caches of Nazi stuff from the war. And I can guess they keep some and sell the rest to make money. I get all that . . .
Jack balanced a tiny, green rectangle on the tip of his finger. With his other hand, he dipped a toothpick into a drop of glue he’d squeezed on some newspaper. Then, ever so carefully, he dabbed the glue onto the green window shutter and placed it beside a window.
But why has Kerrigan hooked up with the Sevens? Why let himself be used to do their dirty work? That doesn’t make sense. He’s too smart to let himself be used by those guys. What’s in it for him?
Jack studied the farmhouse assembly instructions and then broke off the next piece he needed.
Maybe Kerrigan thinks it’s the best way to search for Nazi stuff in what they consider “their woods.” If he couldn’t lick ’em, he’d join ’em.
An hour later, Jack glued the last piece onto the farmhouse.
Ryan Kerrigan, if I know anything about you, you think you’re smarter than the Sevens, even if they’re older. You plan to stay one step ahead of them and to find things first. You’re not being used, you’re using them. And they don’t even know it. You might be a psycho, Ryan Kerrigan, but you’re a clever one.
Jack put the completed farmhouse on the board. It looked great. But it also highlighted how empty the rest of the board was. Clearly he needed a lot more buildings, trees, people, animals. . . . Lots more than he could ever buy with his weekly allowance.
Starting that moment, Jack became a hustler. He left his room to see if his mom had any paying chores. She set him up polishing the silver. As he rubbed her silver teapot, he made a mental list of other adults who might need help.
From then on, he asked every adult he met, “Do you have any jobs you need to have done? I’m desperate for money.” He got all kinds of reactions. Mostly no. But he did occasionally pick up an odd job. Among other things, he became pretty good as a carwash guy. He took every job, and every spare nickel went into his train set.
BRAT and the Kids of Warriors Page 25