Jack looked at Günther and whispered, “We’re outta here.”
In the alley, they talked over everything they’d heard. Jack wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
“That all seems pretty strange,” Günther said. “Why would that guy know so much about what is going on at the Army base? And who were they talking to?”
“No idea,” said Jack. “But keep it under your hat till we can figure it out.”
When they caught up with Hans, his face was unusually tight. “Sorry, Jack, I could not see his face. I do know he is much bigger than Stein.”
“Hair color?” Jack asked.
“Blond or maybe gray. Very short, like Kevin’s. Sorry I couldn’t see more.”
“You did great. First, you got us in. Second, we confirmed it was Stein. And third, we learned someone else is in on it with him.”
“Let’s get away from here,” Jack said as they rejoined the others.
“Was it Stein?” asked Charlie.
“Definitely.”
“And?” Queenie asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Something isn’t right. I don’t know what. But he is not like the guy we know.”
“You keep thinking. I can manage this,” said Queenie. In a loud voice, she yelled, “Come on, people. Time to go home.”
For once Jack was glad for his bossy sister. He did need to think.
Weird. I only saw the back of the guy for a split second, but that was enough to tell me he was a cop or a military guy. How’d I know that? Then he turns around—and it’s our nobody janitor. The whole thing just doesn’t make sense. It was definitely Stein . . . and he wasn’t alone.
The stones in his rucksack shifted, banging his lower back.
Why would those two be talking about new tanks and tanker trucks? The big one talked about the usual phone number . . . like they use it to report in all the time. It’s like they’re relaying intel on 4th Armored. The thought shook him. Could they be Communist spies—like the ones Ingrid talked about? This is bad. We can’t keep this to ourselves.
He picked up his pace so he could talk to Charlie and Kevin. They were with the German guys, talking about World War II.
He listened for a minute but then cut in. “We’ve been over this before. The Nazis are a thing of the past. Today America and Germany need to team up against the Communists. The past hasn’t kept us from being friends; it’s the future that counts.”
“Ach, I think that makes good sense,” Günther said.
Jack said, “What do you know about the Communists?”
Again, Günther spoke up. “Our parents hate the Communists. The Communists want to destroy our way of life. But our country was cut in two just before we were born. Suddenly there was East Germany and West Germany. If you were in the East, you became East German and that country was run by Communists and Russians.”
Hans said, “We had the good fortune to live here.”
Günther nodded grimly. “We hate the Russians and the Communists, but we feel sorry for East Germans who got stuck siding with them. We know friends who have cousins and grandparents in East Germany.”
Hans jumped in. “Do you see? We hate the East German Communists, but they are still Germans just like us. It’s hard.”
“Wow, that would be kinda tough to sort out in your brain,” Charlie said.
Jack nodded. “You have your East and West. America had a war between our North and South. Even brothers were on different sides. Lucky for us, that war ended a long time ago and we’re still the United States.”
“I wish we had one Germany,” said Hans, “but a free one, not Communist.”
“And there are Communists who want one Germany, too. But they want you not to be free,” said Jack. “There are over three thousand Communist tanks on the other side of the Iron Curtain. They’re pointed at us both—West Germans and Americans. So if you stand with us, against them, we will have a solid friendship. But if one day you side with the East Germans against us, our friendship will be over.”
Günther shot out his hand to shake Jack’s. “We are with you, Jack. Just like we were with you today in that bar.”
Jack shook his hand. “That’s great, because I am convinced Herr Stein and his buddy are spying on our tanks to see if we’re strong enough to defeat the Communist tanks. But getting anyone to believe us might be very difficult.”
Kevin’s shoulders hunched over. “Especially without telling them where we were today and how we found out.”
“Well,” said Hans, “no matter what, we are with you.”
Jack could feel it; their friendship was being cemented against a common enemy. For the first time since seeing Stein, Jack felt hope.
35
Resolution
At The One-Way Street to America, Jack made sure he was the last in line to climb back on base. As he waited, he turned to Hans and Günther.
“Thanks, guys. You were a big help getting Jayla—and all of us—to the mountain.”
“It became our adventure, too,” said Günther.
“I’ll let you know if I figure out a plan about Stein. And especially if you can help.”
Hans nodded gravely. “Make an excuse to telephone my house. It’s our fight, too.”
When the brats came off Black Squirrel Crossing, Jack knew they were back in Sevens territory. He considered deploying security, but didn’t have the heart to make his exhausted crew walk point or take up flanking positions. They all just shuffled along in a clump.
Tired as he was, Jack’s brain kept circling back to the bar. What if we hadn’t run across Stein today? What if we’d never overheard their conversation? But we did! What do we do?
Then his brain drifted. . . . He imagined that instead of dragging his body through this forced march, he was lounging in comfort with his buddy, Alex, on the Upshur. They were having their best conversation—the one about Jean-Sébastien. Then Alex searched Jack’s face and said, “When the time comes, will you be ready?”
That shook him. The time has come. My time. Jean-Sébastien met the Panzer Lehr, that elite Nazi tank group. I met Stein. Both simply happened. But once Jean-Sébastien knew what it meant, he had the guts to stay involved. I know this means trouble. I have to stay involved, too. I have to tell Dad. Is there any way to say it without explaining where and how I found out?
Even though it was twenty minutes to six, they had to stop and rest. Within sight of the Nazi pillbox, they collapsed on the forest floor. Queenie looked more tired than Jack could ever remember, but that didn’t keep her from pushing for more details about the bar. This time Jack didn’t hold back. He unloaded all his worry about Stein and the other guy possibly being spies.
“They have to be spies,” said Kevin. “Why else would they be relaying information about tanks and fuel trucks?”
Charlie lay there, looking asleep, until he piped up, “This whole thing reminds me of The Watcher.”
Jack swallowed hard. “The Watcher had military bearing, just the way Stein had today on the phone. Maybe The Watcher’s been cleaning up after us at school, and we just never knew it was the same guy.”
“Now that you mention it, I think you could be right,” said Sam.
“We have to stop them,” Jayla said. “What’s our next move, Jack?”
“We need to make sure Stein and this spy ring gets busted,” he said. “But this is bigger than just us. For once I think we need help from our parents.”
“Whoa!” Queenie said. “They’ll go nuts if they find out we were up at the Hohenstaufen.”
“And if they find that out, they’ll also want to see how we got off base,” said Kevin. “There’s no way we can let that happen.”
“Not to mention they might find out about Black Squirrel Crossing,” said Charlie. “And they’d probably make us take it down.”
“How’s that possible?” Queenie asked.
“I’m the only one who actually overheard them. That makes me the one to talk to my dad. How, I don’t know, but I’ll come up with something.”
They resumed the trudge home, heads down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Jack’s back was killing him. The rocks in his rucksack had smashed a dent near his spine. For about the tenth time, he thought, I’m gonna stash them here and come back for—
Out of nowhere a large group of Sevens sprang up.
Everyone froze.
Where’d they come from? There must be fifteen of ’em! Why didn’t I deploy security?
B-Ball Head came sniffing around, a smirk on his face. “What you got there, Carron? Is that a Nazi canteen I see? Where’d you get it?”
“Got it from a German kid,” Charlie mumbled defensively. “I traded him for it.”
“BS, Carron. That’s just BS,” B-Ball said. “It’s ours. Ya see, Carron, there’s a new rule around here. Any German stuff found in these woods is our property.”
“Yeah. Hand it over,” demanded Snot-Nose.
“Consider it a tax,” said B-Ball. “You hand it over, and just maybe we give you guys a pass.”
Queenie leaned toward Jack and whispered, “Should we make a run for the ravine? Try to ditch ’em?”
“Or give them the canteen?” Sam asked. “He said they might let us go.”
Jayla’s eyes darted for a way to escape. “What do you want us to do, Jack?”
He knew they were waiting for his call. Maybe, if they were rested, they could have defended themselves. But they could barely stand, let alone fight.
Ryan Kerrigan suddenly emerged from a clump of trees.
For once, instead of shutting down, Jack filled with cold determination. His exhaustion gave way to exhilaration.
“No,” he said, loudly enough for even the Sevens to hear. “This ends now! We do not run! And we do not give them anything! This is where we make our stand.”
Kerrigan stopped about twenty yards away. “I hear you been looking for me, McMasters?”
“And I hear you’re gonna pound my little sister. Big mistake, Kerrigan. Time for you to stop picking on people.”
“You gonna make me?”
Jack said with a certainty none of them had heard before, “Right here and right now.”
“Slow down,” interrupted B-Ball. “Before you two scrappers have at it, gimme that Nazi canteen, Carron.”
“B-Ball, shut-up about that canteen!” Jack snapped. “This isn’t about stupid Nazi stuff.”
Then, turning back to Kerrigan, he said, “Just you and me. None of your little friends. And none of the Sevens. Just the two of us. Understand?”
Jack didn’t bother waiting for a response. He tore off his web gear and handed it to Queenie. As he stared down Kerrigan, his fingers formed a Spartan square.
Jack advanced on him while his crew slowly edged toward each other.
“Put up your dukes, Ryan,” Snot-Nose shouted with delight. “Give us a good show.”
Kerrigan smiled over at the Sevens. “This shouldn’t take long. McMasters is a complete weenie.”
The taunts didn’t faze Jack. He got into a fighter’s stance, his feet beginning to dance lightly as he circled Kerrigan. He reminded himself, Patience. Let him come to you.
It took a minute, but Kerrigan finally took the bait. He closed in with a right to Jack’s face.
Jack blocked it with his left, immediately noticing Kerrigan was holding his fists high, trying to protect his own face. He was holding them a little too high. Jack unloaded a quick right and left into his ribs. He made solid contact.
Backing away, Kerrigan gasped for air.
“Come on, Kerrigan, show us your stuff,” yelled one of the Sevens. “Take this pretty dancer out.”
With lightning speed, Kerrigan came in low. Jack fought back, but in a series of punches, Kerrigan finally landed one on his right cheek, knocking him off his feet.
Kevin yelled, “Get up, Jack!”
Jack knew Kerrigan would start kicking any second. He scrambled back onto his feet. Before Kerrigan reacted, Jack attacked, landing another hit to the ribs and one to his mouth.
Jack could see it in his eyes: Kerrigan felt pain and increasing frustration. Jack was supposed to be an easy target. It wasn’t working out that way.
For the next few minutes, both fighters kept giving and getting, but neither was gaining the advantage. The Sevens were growing impatient.
Someone yelled, “Come on, Kerrigan. I thought you said this guy was a weenie.”
Another chimed in, “You’re not makin’ it look like he’s much of one. In fact, I’m beginning to believe he’s gonna take you.”
“I thought you said you were good, Kerrigan,” shouted Snot-Nose. “Now! Finish this guy.”
With the back of his hand, Kerrigan wiped blood from his lip. A crazed look came into his eyes.
Jayla yelled, “Watch for it, Jack.”
Kerrigan let out a blood-curdling yell and charged. Arms outstretched, he sprang into a flying tackle.
To Jack, Kerrigan seemed to be floating toward him through the air. Kerrigan’s head was coming at him just the way a baseball did. Jack could sense the moment that head would sail over home plate. At just the right moment, Jack’s feet glided sideways. Kerrigan’s outstretched hands sailed past him. Jack hit Kerrigan’s head with all he had.
Kerrigan went down. Kerrigan went down hard. He didn’t get back up.
The fight was over.
Jack knelt down next to Kerrigan. Once he was sure the guy wasn’t seriously hurt, he whispered, “You ever touch any of us again . . . you touch anyone I even know . . . you and I will be doing this little dance again.”
Getting to his feet, he saw his friends positioned just the way they’d practiced. Jayla, Kevin, and Queenie in the middle. The others around them. Before the Sevens had time to react, Jack moved in, taking his place in the circle.
B-Ball turned away from Kerrigan, who still hadn’t gotten up. He glared at Charlie. “I want that canteen now, Carron.”
The Sevens began to advance on them.
“I don’t think so,” Jack said. “Our woods. Our stuff. You back off.”
“Jack, Jack, Jack, you’re dreaming,” B-Ball sneered. “You can take Kerrigan, but you can’t take all of us, now, can you?”
Jack just said, “You want the canteen? Come and get it.”
It was obvious this wasn’t the answer the Sevens were expecting, but at a nod from B-Ball, two Sevens immediately attacked the phalanx. Neither managed to penetrate the circle. One got his face scratched by Karen. The other was clobbering Charlie until Queenie reached through the circle and smashed the guy’s foot with a quartz chunk someone had dropped. The guy fell backward, grabbing his foot and screaming in pain.
“Stand your ground,” Jack commanded.
B-Ball came at Sam. He grabbed her by the arm, trying to drag her out of the circle. As she stiffened and fell forward, Jack yelled, “Advance on Sam.”
The entire phalanx moved as one. The circle opened, enveloping both B-Ball and Sam.
B-Ball now found himself alone in the middle of the phalanx.
As Sam scrambled out of the way, Queenie yanked B-Ball’s right arm, pulling it back. Kevin and Jayla unloaded a volley of punches into him.
The giant of a kid, knowing he was in serious trouble, and desperate to get away from them, used all his weight to break out of the circle.
The phalanx immediately closed up—ready for the next assau
lt.
Jack spotted Snot-Nose standing back, assessing. Kerrigan would be okay, but he was still down. One Seven had scratches, another couldn’t walk, and B-Ball wasn’t looking too good. Snot-Nose sneered, “Enough with the stupid canteen. We’re out of here.”
And, amazingly enough, no one argued with him.
As the Sevens left, Jayla walked over to Jack. “You were right. We didn’t have to beat them; we just had to keep the Sevens from beating us.”
Victorious, but considerably worse for wear, Jack and Queenie walked into their quarters at 6:39 p.m.
Lt. Col. McMasters was pacing—obviously agitated. The minute he turned toward them, Jack saw the angry glint in his eye.
“Where the hell have you two been!” he exploded.
“Sorry,” Jack said, staring down at his muddy pants.
The colonel’s voice went deadly. “You look me in the eye, and you address me as sir when you are speaking to me, young man.”
Jack’s head snapped up. He straightened his shoulders and locked eyes on his father. “Sorry, sir.”
“Sorry? Sorry is for losers!” the colonel snapped. “Speaking of which, just look at you two. Dirt from head to foot. You’re a complete mess. And your shoes are a disgrace!” With an eagle eye, he inspected both of them for additional infractions. “I see somebody’s smashed up your sorry-ass face again. Looks like once again you failed to deal with your problems.”
Jack stammered, “Dad, it wasn’t—”
“Don’t you dare say it wasn’t your fault, you miserable excuse for a boy.”
Jack flinched. “I was just trying to say today wasn’t about me.”
“I don’t give a shit who—”
“Dad, you’ve got to listen!” Queenie shouted in frustration. “We’re late, but it could have been a lot worse. The fight today wasn’t about Jack. He was protecting Rabbit. What he did was great.”
“What?” demanded Mrs. McMasters, entering the living room at the mention of Rabbit. “Hold on a moment, John. What’s this about Rabbit needing protection?”
BRAT and the Kids of Warriors Page 38