by B. C. Tweedt
He stepped off and plummeted.
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Jarryd gulped and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. He could see the faint outline of the man behind the shower curtain and hear his hands working at the shampoo on his bald scalp. Maybe it was Rogaine. Either way, without much hair, the shower would be over soon. He had to make his move.
Reaching toward the little shelf, he grabbed the smart watch’s band and slowly drew it to himself. Finally, it was his.
And then it beeped.
The man’s humming stopped and the top of the curtain drew back. Suddenly Baldy was looking straight at Jarryd – a look of utter surprise etched on his face. Jarryd was frozen – the watch in his hand.
“Sorry?” Jarryd mumbled.
Baldie’s face turned from surprise to anger in an instant. The curtain ripped from the shower rod as he launched toward Jarryd. But Jarryd was gone, screaming as he bounced off the walls, pulled open the door, and scampered into the hall.
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Greyson hit the trash bags and crumpled into them. The smell splashed in his face, thick and pungent. He reacted fast, before his senses could settle. Pulling himself out, he jumped to the alley and burst toward the street. Men yelled at him from behind and from the roof. Some shouted orders, others obscenities. He anticipated gunshots, but there were none. They wanted him alive.
The street was empty, but someone was pounding at the front door of the church, breaking through the plywood. Whoever it was called for him. “Greyson!”
He ignored it and ran toward Kit. He was barking now, angry but wagging his tail. Greyson snatched his backpack and sped past.
“Come on, boy!”
Together they circled around the house’s backyard, weaved around a sandbox and a birdfeeder, and cut across several more yards. Motion-sensing lights flicked on, but as far as he knew, they weren’t spotted. The shouts grew fainter in the background, but the sounds of truck engines churned by on each side of the block. They would be trying to box him in.
But he only had to break one side of the box to get out.
“Over here!” He waved Kit toward him, cutting behind a fence and heading toward the hills in the distance. He unsnapped his slingshot and fished a ball out of his ammo pouch. As tempting as it was to use the arrow ammunition, he didn’t want to waste the few arrows he had.
Breathing hard, he eyed his surroundings. Decks, lawn furniture, gardens – but no men, yet. But he couldn’t stop. A few more blocks and he could take a break.
Rounding a corner and approaching a road, he put his back to the wall of a shed and listened. A truck squealed around the street and buzzed past, lighting the side of the shed and the houses with its blazing headlights. When it had passed, he snuck a peak. Red Toyota. Three men standing in the bed – armed with rifles.
“Frick.” Maybe they were going to kill him. Fear pricked him and he felt the familiar jolt of adrenaline that swirled through his veins. He’d need it.
He waited another beat and then turned toward the street.
“There you are.”
A slender man with a cut-off, plaid shirt took a step toward him adjusting his denim hat. A handgun jutted from the waist of his jeans and his other hand lingered close to it.
Kit growled at his side, waiting for the command to sic, but it never came.
Before Greyson could even raise his slingshot, a well-built man quietly curled around the corner with his jaw set. The well-built man didn’t waste time. He kicked the back of the slender man’s knee, grabbed him by his collar, and flung him against the side of the shed like a doll. The man watched his victim’s limp body for a moment, making sure he didn’t get up, and then looked to Greyson.
It was Dan. “Are you telling the truth?” he snapped.
Kit growled as Greyson struggled to answer.
“Are you telling the truth?” he asked again, with urgency. “About Emory? Pluribus did the nuke?”
Greyson put his hand behind Kit’s ears as if to hold him back, for now. “Y-yeah. They did. All of it. I was –”
“Then follow me.”
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Jarryd ran, looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Baldy giving chase, but he was alone. His walkie-talkie chirped at him, Nick’s voice frantic, but he ignored it. He turned down one hall and then another, flew up a flight of stairs, until he had to catch his breath in a lobby. Still no followers.
He’d done it.
“You went the wrong way!” the walkie screamed.
Jarryd looked around. Oh, yeah.
In his panic, he’d forgotten the plan. He was supposed to have handed the watch off to Nick. He was supposed to have gone to the elevator where Avery was waiting.
“I thought this way was better! Is he chasing?”
“No. Not yet. But get to our room. Hurry!”
Jarryd breathed hard and put his hands on his knees. He was way out of shape. He wasn’t cut out for this adventure stuff. This was Greyson’s domain. I’m good for moral support, not this James Bond crap.
He took in another deep breath and began his run again, but stopped as soon as he started. A Korean cruise officer was glaring at him, dressed in full white with a black tie and ranking displayed on each of his shoulder’s epaulettes. His nametag read: Suk Toh.
Suk’s eyes latched on to the watch in Jarryd’s hand. And then the officer reached for his own watch and spoke into it. “A boy has stolen a watch. Chubby, buck-toothed. Long, girl hair. Empress Deck.”
Jarryd glared back and raised his walkie. “A man named ‘Suck’ has discovered us. Uni-browed, twig-armed mouth-breather who likes to chase boys. Empress Deck.”
The man sneered and then pounced.
Chapter 38
Huff. Puff. Huff. Puff. Huff. Puff.
Greyson was growing weary and the backpack was rubbing his shoulders raw, but he ignored the pain. He couldn’t show any weakness to Dan, because he was the one doing all the hard work.
“Hold here. Wait for it.”
As he had for the last several blocks, he followed exactly what Dan said. So far they had outmaneuvered the Plurbs several times. It was as if Dan knew exactly what their enemies would do, where they would go, and how fast they would do it.
From across the street, Greyson watched three well-armed Plurbs peer inside windows, run around the side of the house, and disappear behind.
“Quick.”
They kept low and shuffled across the street, careful to avoid the streetlights. Dan had only given commands since his first question: “Are you telling the truth?” He was focused now with steeled eyes and stiff reflexes. It was as if he saw more than Greyson did. Heard more. Had more confidence. He had to have done this before.
They zigzagged through more yards until finally they rested behind a hedge of bushes.
“Your dog. He’s a police dog?”
Greyson looked at Kit. “Uh…no. Well, I don’t know.”
Dan didn’t flinch. “He’s trained. I’m going to need him here.”
He hadn’t really thought too much about who had trained Kit before, but Dan seemed to know what he was talking about. “Okay.”
“We’re going for my truck – outside the book store. Then we’ll see if we can avoid the roadblocks.”
Greyson nodded, trying to fight off the panic. This had gotten out of hand faster than he imagined. Roadblocks? Just for him? It was like a whole army was after him.
“We’re getting my son, and then we’re getting you out of here.”
“On your plane?”
Dan finally flinched, the folds on his large forehead scrunching together. “No. The airfield is miles away. You’re getting out on the train.”
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Jarryd felt Suk gaining on him. The man had longer legs, longer arms, and made a very annoying wheezing sound when he ran. The wheezing grew louder and louder as they pounded through the guest room halls.
Run faster! Faster! Stupid muscular c
alves!
A T-intersection was just ahead. Maybe he could fake him out. He edged to the left, and just as he felt the wheezing on his neck, he turned right. Suk’s arm whisked past Jarryd’s shoulders as he went careening into the wall face-first. The bang was astounding, and the uni-browed man crumpled to the blue carpet.
He had faked him out big time! Must have broken the guy’s ankles! I’m a baller, a scholar, and a…
“You’re welcome.”
Sydney was staring at him with her hands on her hips.
Suddenly it all came together. She had tripped him as he came around the corner. If only he had planned it that way…
“I led him right to you. All you had to do was put your foot out.”
She kept glaring at him until the man groaned and shifted at their feet.
“Quick. Give me the watch! And we’ll split up!”
Jarryd didn’t debate. He threw her the watch and she instantly darted the opposite way. He stood still for a moment and then looked behind. Another worker stood at the far end of the hall. He didn’t look happy.
Jarryd jumped over Suk’s back and pushed off down the opposite hall. He was not only running for his life – he still had to go to the bathroom.
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“Stay boy. Guard. Alert us.”
Dan looked straight into Kit’s eyes as he gave the commands, and Kit looked like he understood. He sat on his haunches on the sidewalk, ears alert like little satellite dishes. Greyson flashed him the stay command just in case.
When Dan gave the signal, they left Kit and made their way across the street to the beginnings of a main street with businesses lined up for blocks on both sides. There was a neon sign with a coffee cup, a small movie theatre, and a barbershop. It was quaint and quiet. It seemed like a place Greyson would like to live – where the neighbors knew one another and cared for each other. A place to raise kids.
But it wasn’t any place for kids right now. Trucks raced about town with men hollering his name and waking the neighborhood. Roadblocks were being set up on the roads out of town, guarded by armed sentries. And drapes were being pulled, lights turned off. At most a camera could be seen in the corner of a window, hoping to catch something worthy to be put on online – to feed the hype on the national news.
When they made it to the bookstore, Dan ran to the truck parked at the curb in front. Asher rolled down the window from inside.
“Got the bag?”
“Yeah,” the boy said, scared.
“Good. Greyson, get in.”
Greyson shot to the door and Asher scooted over. He smiled at him, clutching his backpack as Greyson did his.
Dan swung around to the driver’s door but stopped suddenly. It was Kit’s bark that stopped him. A warning bark.
Greyson examined Dan’s face as it descended into rapid thought. His eyes darted back and forth, from Asher, to Kit, and back to Asher. Greyson didn’t envy his position. For once, he wasn’t the one making the decisions.
The Plurbs’ truck came peeling around the corner, past Kit, who still stood sentry, barking mad and fast. But he stood his ground.
And then the nightmare came flooding in. Instead of Dan, it was Kip, Greyson’s old bodyguard standing at the driver’s door. Two cops pulled up, and Kip trusted them. They fired into his chest, three, four, five times. Over and over. His body fell…
“Greyson! Get down on the floor. Asher, stay where you are.”
Greyson did as he was told, lying at Asher’s feet. Asher’s young face was frozen in fear, and he clutched at the bug-out bag like a giant stuffed animal. Fear was etched on his forehead and his lip trembled.
“And don’t watch, Ash. Greyson, make sure he doesn’t watch.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dan leaned in through the door. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, staring straight at Asher. “Remember who’s with you.”
Asher and Greyson shared a look as Dan walked toward the oncoming truck.
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Sydney sprinted through Central Park, ignoring the winding path and instead jumping over bushes and weaving around the pedestrians who were on their way to the various stores and restaurants on either side. Above and around them were hundreds of balconies, all the way up to the top deck of the ship, where cruisers sat and talked about the beautiful scenery of the park in the valley below.
But Sydney wasn’t taking in the beauty. If she stopped to smell the roses, they would catch her. Her plan was to find a more public place where she could lose them. Though there were many people in the park, there were even more at the Aqua Theatre at the end of the ship. She burst through a set of thick doors and into the sound of the show’s music. Beyond the amphitheater she could see the giant projector screens with the ocean just beyond.
She had almost made it to the first seats when one of the ushers turned toward the park as if scanning for someone. And the usher’s eyes found her. She stopped dead in her tracks.
She could outmaneuver the usher – or kick his groin. But he seemed more athletic than the other ones. What if it didn’t work? Maybe she should scream? Make a scene and hope the guests stop him?
“Sydney.”
It was an Australian voice. When she turned, Sydney saw the Australian it belonged to.
“Give me the watch!” Avery was strapping herself into climber’s gear. Rising above her was one of two giant climbing walls, towering beside the rows of balconies. “Hurry!”
The usher took a step forward, speaking into his watch. Another usher rushed from the side, joining him. Together they advanced.
Sydney eyed Avery and then the ushers. Choices ran through her mind, but she knew better than to make decisions based on petty dislike. She threw the watch to Avery who immediately jumped to the wall, latching on to the fake-rock handholds. In a matter of seconds she was out of reach of the ushers who had raced to her, jumping to grab her feet. One of them tried to climb after her, but was obviously not up to the challenge. Avery was like a monkey on the wall.
Was there anything she was not good at?
But then the ushers headed to the woman who was holding Avery’s rope, giving her slack while keeping a good grip in case she fell. The rope was tied to Avery’s back. It could keep her safe – it could also pull her off the wall.
“Avery! The rope!”
Avery heard the warning just in time. The usher reached for the rope and tugged it hard, but to no avail. Avery had clicked it free from the carabineer. The rope swung free and loose, jangling all the way to the top deck, some twelve stories higher.
But Avery was now climbing without any safety rope, digging into the handholds with her fingers and pushing off footholds with the toes of her sneakers.
Disappearing into the gathering crowd, Sydney made her way to a side door and watched from afar as Avery made it to the side of the wall. With a mighty leap and a collective gasp from the crowd, she flew to the closest balcony, latching onto the railing. She pulled herself up with great upper-body strength and swung her legs up and over the side. When her feet struck the balcony’s floor, she turned with a big smile on her face. With bright eyes and a winning smile, she waved to the crowd and winked at the ushers. As the audience applauded, she vanished into the room.
Sydney wanted to be sick.
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Asher looked sick with fear, but Greyson reached up from the floor and grabbed his hand. He didn’t know what to say – he’d never had a younger brother, or spent much time with younger kids – but he had to do something.
“Just keep your eyes on me,” he whispered. “Okay?”
Asher nodded.
“No matter what you hear. I’m here. Like your dad said.”
The boy whispered back. “He wasn’t talking about you.”
Greyson perked up as he heard a truck pull to a stop next to theirs.
“Hey there, Critter! Whatcha doing?”
“We don’t want any part of this,” Dan responded. “Chasin
g a kid with guns, waking the whole neighborhood…”
“What’s your problem? Huh? Kid’s a liar. A government plant.”
“This is not what we’re about. We don’t silence people who disagree with us – we hear them out.”
“Is that right?” A car door opened and a few footsteps hit the pavement. The others were jumping down from the bed. “Sounded to me like you told the boy to run. Is that what you call hearing him out?”
There was a pause, and a new edge came to the Plurb’s voice. “Are you hiding him, Critter? You find him?”
Asher was shaking. Greyson squeezed his hand and mouthed, “It’s okay. Eyes on me. Eyes on me.”
“No. It’s just me and Ash.”
“Where you headed?”
The voices got closer. They were walking toward the truck. Greyson breathed hard, but silent. Every instinct told him to run or fight. His free hand pulled at his slingshot’s snap.
“My brother’s place. Like I said, we don’t want anything to do with this, so if you’ll…”
“Then you wouldn’t mind if we check your truck. Just to check—”
But the man didn’t finish his sentence. A crack interrupted it and then a fury of sounds followed. Surprised shouts – shuffling feet on asphalt – more cracks – a thud – a gun hitting the street – a body hitting the side of the truck – a groan.
Greyson suddenly bolted up and pushed Asher to the floor. “Sic ‘em boy!”
But Kit was already on his way; a blurry flash of brown leaped through the air and pounded the back of one of the men with all four paws. He went down and the dog followed, ripping at his arm, growling fierce and loud.
Greyson pulled up his slingshot, but there was no need. Dan walked to the man being mauled on the ground, called the dog off, pulled the man up, and put him out with a hard right fist. The other three men were already down.
Suddenly there were no more sounds. The silence sunk in deeply. Only Asher was making a sound, his thin gasps on the edge of crying. Sensing the violence was over, Greyson turned to him and put a hand on his back.
“It’s okay. It’s over.”
Dan opened the door and Kit jumped in after, crowding the space even further. “You guys okay?”