by B. C. Tweedt
But if he didn’t find his dad, this trip would be in vain, and he would have ruined a couple’s phones and tire for nothing.
He had to make it.
He picked up the pace, eyed them over his shoulder one last time, and set out for the tree line with his shoulders back, chin up, and eyes forward.
Chapter 13
Sydney threw her clothes from a trash bag into the bottom drawer of her new room’s dresser. She was angry. This house smelled like mold and the wallpaper looked moist. But that was minor. The majors were two things. One, the FBI hadn’t let her call anyone since Greyson had left. They’d even destroyed her phone. And two, her parents were just lying down and taking it all from the FBI like submissive little dogs with tails between their legs. Why couldn’t they just tell them they didn’t want protection, like the twins’ parents had?
“It’s for the best, honey,” she mocked under her breath now that no one was around. “They’re looking out for us, honey. They’ll find him, honey.”
After Agent Gavin had died trying to save Greyson from his captors (that was the story the FBI was going with, for now), the FBI had driven them in seemingly random directions for a long hour to escape any terrorists who may have followed. Once satisfied they weren’t being tailed, the agents had been given directions from their superiors. They were to relocate. Again.
At least she had that in common with Greyson. Now no one would know where either of them were.
After sleeping in the new house with borrowed pajamas and toiletries, her possessions had come packed ever so nicely in trash bags. They’d even thrown the picture frames in with the clothes to protect them.
Sydney rolled her eyes, but then jumped when the door opened.
“What?”
The agent held out a phone to her. “For you.”
Skeptical, she reached out for it, half-expecting him to pull it away and laugh. He didn’t.
“Hello?”
“Sydney. This is Sam.”
“Sam!” She probably sounded too excited.
“Hey! How are you doing? You know…considering.”
Sydney eyed the FBI agent who was watching her. She shooed him away and he obeyed with a condescending smirk. “I’m okay. New place sucks. But they haven’t let me call you; do you know – ”
“I’m here on speakerphone with my dad, Syd.”
Then came the Governor’s voice. “Hello, Sydney. I apologize for the place…and for everything. It – it really is unconscionable that we failed to protect you, Greyson, and your family after you’ve done so much for us. I just talked to your parents and expressed my deepest regrets.”
“But it was the Feds’ fault,” Sam added. “Dad’ll fix them when he gets elected.”
Sydney smiled. It was good hearing his voice again.
“Sam,” Governor Reckhemmer sighed. “It won’t happen overnight. So until then, I wanted to ask you, Sydney, if there is anything I can do to – ”
“Tell me about Greyson,” she blurted. Suddenly she realized what she had done. “S-sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Oh, well, I understand your concern. What do you know so far?”
She had to be careful not to indicate Sam’s help in Greyson’s escape. “Nothing, really. That they took him.”
“Syd – he got away,” Sam interjected. “He was on a bus, but he ran from some police in Illinois. Then someone reported that they had picked him up hitchhiking, with a dog.”
Her breath caught in her lungs as the sensation of relief traveled to her shoulders and her smile. He’d made it out. But what had happened? Why had he hitchhiked? Had he run out of money already? He had a dog with him?
“He punctured one of their tires, stole their keys, and ran,” Sam concluded.
“That was this morning,” the Governor added. “There’s been no sign of him since. His transponder was found on the side of the road half a mile from your old residence.”
Sam was excited. “Nothing on security cameras, credit cards – nothing.”
Sydney took in a deep breath, trying to put it all together.
The governor sighed as well. “We’re trying to understand why he’s still running. Perhaps he thinks Pluribus is still chasing him.”
Sydney imagined Sam playing it cool, trying to avoid eye contact. “Yeah. I bet that’s it. After having that tracker put in him, he’s been a little paranoid ever since.”
“I understand that. He’s probably skeptical of the FBI as well.”
Had she said too much? “Yeah, I bet.”
There was a brief pause on the other line. “Sydney, did you happen to notice a red backpack go missing from your things before Greyson was taken?”
The air sucked from her lungs. She had to respond quickly, or risk being suspicious. “Uh…no. I have one, but I just got my things today. I can look for it.”
“No, no. Just wondering.”
“Okay.”
Another pause. “The FBI will keep looking for him, but their resources are spread thinner than they’ve ever been. He should show up soon. I’ll make sure you know as soon as I do. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Nodding to herself, she worked up her courage. “Yeah. Could I get another phone?”
The governor laughed. “Oh, they took that from you? Hard to be without one of those nowadays. I feel naked without mine.”
“Dad!” Sam moaned.
Sydney laughed, too, mostly at Sam.
“Sure thing,” the governor agreed happily. “And you know what? I’m going to step out of the room here and let you two catch up. It was nice talking to you. Again – anything you need.”
“Thank you, Governor!”
“You’re welcome. Take care.”
She listened for his footsteps and the closing door. When the sound came, there was a pause. “Just a sec, Syd.”
As Sydney waited, she knelt by a trash bag and began taking her picture frames out one by one, laying them carefully on the stained carpet. There were several pictures of her with her mom and dad and one of her friends – though these friends were from her old school and would never be her friends again. The next picture was the one of Greyson she had kept by her bed.
“Line’s secure.”
“That was close. Think he knows?”
“That he ran away on purpose? No. But they still don’t know how he got the bus ticket.”
“What is Greyson doing? Has he tried to get ahold of you?”
“He got robbed. They caught some of the robbers, though they wouldn’t admit to it.”
“Geez.” Sydney’s shoulders slumped as she held the broken picture of Greyson. The glass was cracked over Greyson’s face, like he’d been caught in a spider web. But he was still smiling that perfect smile. Her mother had taken the picture the first day of the fair, before it had all gone wrong.
She stood up, carrying the frame to her new bed, which creaked under her weight. “We’ve got to help him, Sam.”
“With helicopters, drones, and all, I think they’re going to find him. I don’t know what else we can do.”
----------------
The moonlit trees hurtled past to the left and right as he weaved between them, sprinting as fast as his lumbering backpack allowed. His breath came out in cold, airy gasps, filtering up into the orange and yellow leaves where he imagined the helicopter hovering in the night sky.
Greyson could hear the whupwhupwhupwhup of its blades, but he’d lost track of its spotlight. He had panicked when he’d seen it – which had been almost a full minute after he’d heard it.
Kit had been walking beside him in the field at the edge of the trees, and they’d begun to get complacent, hours after escaping from the couple in the car. They were just beginning to look for a place to hunker down for the night when Kit’s ears had perked up, near-perfect triangles of antenna-like radar. Before long he’d heard it, too, and they were off, trudging through the field and into the trees.
“Here, boy! In
here!” Greyson knelt at the roots of a tree that hung over a dried riverbed, eroded beneath except for the roots that kept it upright. Cowering within its roots, he hid within the small dirt cave.
Kit ran to him and Greyson pulled him closer. If he was as scared as Greyson was, he didn’t show it. Kit even gave him a lick and watched him while panting, as if they were just taking a break from a game.
WhupwhupwhupWhupWhupWhup!
Greyson clutched Kit closer, suddenly afraid that he’d dash away, chasing the helicopter like it was the mail truck or a rabbit.
It’s the government, right? The Plurbs didn’t have helicopters. If anybody caught him, it was best the government be the captors. They’d take him back and never let him go; but at least they wouldn’t kill him or torture him like the Plurbs would.
But then again, maybe the Plurbs did have helicopters. If they could get an atomic bomb, they could get a helicopter.
WhupWhupWhupWHUPWHUPWHUP!
The spotlight found their hiding place.
Chapter 14
The helicopter’s spotlight beamed through the gaps in the leaves above, a golden-white glow – like a sudden, piercing gaze of the sun. Greyson pushed himself deeper into the dirt and the roots, letting them hang over his shoulders and around his knees. For a moment they felt like snakes, but he shrugged off the irrational fear and hugged them tight.
Kit growled at the spotlight as it jerked through the trees further along the riverbed and away from their little cave.
WHUPWhupWhupWhupWhupwhupwhupwhupwhup.
Only after the last sound of the blades had echoed away in the night was Greyson able to breathe fully with a sigh of relief. Exchanging a look with Kit, he released the roots and snuggled closer to him.
From his vantage point at the edge of the creek bed, he scanned the dark trees that stretched for miles as a boundary between two empty fields, like a reef in an ocean of dirt. And he had fallen in.
Mud streaked his face and clotted in his hair. He swiped at his arms and then his hair and face, but that only made it worse. Only after wiping the mud from between his fingers, using the inside of his hoodie, was he able to feel clean enough to pet Kit again. Together they listened to the night, reluctant to move from their cave.
--------------
Sydney lay down on her bed, determination seeping into her eyes the more she looked at Greyson’s picture. “Sam. Find us a way to the Bahamas.”
Sam scoffed into the phone and laughed a little to be more polite. “Vacation would be nice, but I’m pretty busy.”
“Then just me. And maybe the twins and Sammy. We can all go – even our parents.” Her eyes lit up as the idea implanted itself. “Vacation is exactly what we need.”
“Well, that would be nice, but – ”
“Your dad said I could ask for anything, right? What’s the difference between waiting for the terrorists to find me again in Iowa, and waiting in the Bahamas?”
“Well, I don’t think – ”
“Can you ask him, Sam? We’ll meet Greyson there and help him find his dad.”
There was a long pause. Part of Sam didn’t want to get interrupted again, and the other part didn’t want to disappoint her. “I’ll ask. But it won’t happen overnight.”
She nodded at his governor-like response, turning over on her stomach with the frame on the pillow. She would have to replace the glass somehow. “Thanks.”
“But you’ve got to do me a favor, then.”
Sydney smiled coyly at his suggestion, imagining his dimples as he smirked. “Okay. What?”
“Tell me about yourself. Honestly.”
Her brow furrowed. “Huh?”
“I want to know you better. Without talking about terrorists or running away.”
Her smile grew and her worries were replaced with a kind of curiosity. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“Well, let’s start easy. What’s your favorite color?”
Red. But she couldn’t say that. “Yellow. Yours?”
“Red, white, and blue together.”
“So, is that like brown or something?”
He laughed generously. “Your turn.”
“Uh…what type of music do you listen to?”
“Classical mostly.”
“Yeah, right.”
“No, really!”
“Why?”
“Because I like it. And it gives me a better ear. I play piano and violin.”
“No way,” she whispered, as if it were a secret. “For real?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. For real. I take lessons and stuff, but I’m not going to be a professional or anything. Dad said it develops the mind and gets the ladies…uh…”
“The piano does? Maybe if you played the guitar…”
They laughed together and her bed squeaked.
“What was that?” he asked.
“The bed. It’s got to be thirty years old.”
“Yikes. Can I see it? Want to switch to video call?”
Sydney looked at what she was wearing. “Uh…sure. Call me back?”
“Yup.”
She ran to one of her trash bags, found a better shirt and changed quickly. When the phone began to buzz, she jumped back on the bed stomach-first. The picture frame with Greyson’s picture fell from the pillow and into her hands. Using the spider-webbed glass as a mirror, she tidied up her hair.
But she stopped. She looked beyond the cracks to Greyson’s face.
Guilt gnawed at her heart as her phone continued to buzz.
He left me. It’s okay. He’d want me to have another friend – to be happy.
I’m tired of pretending to be okay. I need someone, too.
She swallowed the guilt and put a strand of hair back in place.
Satisfied, she put the frame facedown on the bedside table and answered the call with a beaming smile.
-----------------
Greyson began to shiver even though he was huddled with Kit. Now that he was fully satisfied the helicopter hadn’t spotted him, the cold finally motivated him to move.
Pulling his backpack out of the root-cave, he tried to wipe some of the mud off its exterior, but it was futile. Instead, he zipped it open and fingered through the contents.
Where’s the blanket? The answer dawned on him and he shook his head in disgust. He dug in deeper and frantically searched, but came up without a flashlight. Really? What else did she take out?
And then he found the can of creamed corn.
He looked at Kit and showed him what he had found. Kit cocked his head and Greyson cocked his as well. “Exactly.” At least she hadn’t grabbed his extra underwear. That would have been awkward. Though he would trade all his extra underwear – even the ones he had on – for a blanket.
At least she had the blanket and a warm house. At least one of them was comfortable and safe.
Shivering and rubbing his arms, Greyson thought through his options. Being so tired, and still a little worried there were more helicopters out looking for him, he decided to stay. Putting on every piece of clothing he had, he began constructing a makeshift shelter over the root-cave.
Not really knowing what to do, he found a few fallen branches long enough to lean against the overhang that formed a little roof. He then weaved a few more branches horizontally through the longer sticks. Finally, he gathered what leaves he could find on the ground and piled them inside the cave.
Greyson rubbed his hands on Kit for friction. He supposed he could start a fire right now, but it wouldn’t be smart. What if he had started a fire before the helicopter had flown over? He’d have been spotted and nabbed before he could have put it out.
Alternating feelings of despair and exhilaration bit at him like the chill. Shivering, he crawled to his leaf bed, called Kit to him and snuggled into his fur. Though it felt frigid outside, it only had to be about fifty degrees. What if he had waited a few more weeks to leave? What if he had taken Sydney with? Would they have been robbed? What if he had not told Ki
t to stop attacking the boy? Would Kit have killed CheekBones? What if Dad is in Nassau, like Emory said, but he isn’t alive?
Another chill shook the thoughts away. He could ask himself a hundred ‘what if’ questions, but not many would help. What mattered now, right now, was getting some sleep.
And for that end, he quickly took the hat from his head and found his multi-tool in his fanny pack. After a few delicate slices, he had freed the picture from the pouch sewn into his hat. It had been folded and pressed against his scalp for more than a month – ever since Kip had told him and his mom to burn any belongings that could help the terrorists trace them. Together they had burned album after album, but this picture he had kept hidden.
Now, staring at his dad’s face, he felt guilty. He hadn’t looked at it since he had hid it away. Part of him had begun to forget what he looked like. It only took a second to rearrange the picture he’d had in his mind to match the picture, but it had taken a second still.
He took another few seconds looking at him. They shared the same wide smile – the same bold, green eyes – and the same thick brown hair, though Greyson’s was now matted with mud. He smiled at him, imagining them together. He slid the picture into a groove in the stick wall.
Desiring even more company, he searched the front pocket of his fanny pack and unraveled a folded photograph. Shivering, he held the Polaroid into a stream of moonlight, admiring her smile next to his dad.
“Good bye,” he said softly to Sydney. “And good night.” Then, kissing her photograph, he folded it back up and stored it away safely.
Chapter 15
Three days later…
Kit nuzzled closer to Greyson’s sleeping frame. The boy’s eyelids fluttered and his brow creased with intense concern. Sensing his distress, Kit whimpered and pawed at his side.
The mushroom cloud towered overhead, blinding Greyson and scorching his clothes. He felt his skin burning, sizzling, and pain tore through him in jagged, metal waves. But just as he felt he would burn to ash, Orion punched him, and he was powerless to defend himself. Emory laughed from behind, approving Orion’s work – immune to the blast still roaring on the horizon, toppling trees.