Sanctuary 1-4

by Meg Cabot

  Chick let out a stream of very colorful expletives that I was just barely able to hear above all the explosions. Then he darted around to the pickup and hauled a protesting Dr. Krantz to his one good foot.

  "Sorry, girlie," Chick yelled at me, as he dragged Dr. Krantz around the truck and started stuffing him into the passenger seat. "But you gotta get these folks outta here before all hell breaks loose."

  "Before?" I couldn't believe any of this was happening. "Um, correct me if I'm wrong, but from the looks of things, I think it already has."

  "What?" Chick screamed at me, as the sky was lit a brilliant orange and red.

  "Hell," I yelled back. "I think we're already in it!"

  "Aw, this is nothing." Chick slammed the door on Dr. Krantz, then hurried around to make sure Rob was secure in the cab bed. "Kid," he yelled at Seth. "Get in here and make sure this guy don't slide around too much. And shield him from that crap flying around, would ya?"

  Seth, white-faced but resolute, did as Chick asked without a single question. He climbed into the back of the pickup and knelt down beside Rob … after giving Chigger a few wary looks, that is.

  Then, taking me by the elbow, Chick pointed down the hill, into the thick black copse of trees that separated Jim Henderson's property from the county road far, far below.

  "You just head straight down," he yelled, as, up by the ranch house, what I could have sworn was machine-gun fire broke out. "So long as you're going down, you're headed for the road. Understand?"

  I nodded miserably. "But, Chick," I couldn't help adding. "The snow—"

  "Right," Chick said, with a nod. "It's gonna be more of a slalom than a drive. Just remember, if you get into trouble, pump the brakes. And try not to hit anything head on."

  "Oh," I said, bitterly. "Thanks for the advice. This may not be the right time to bring this up, but you know, I don't even have a driver's license."

  "That guy's leg ain't gonna wait," Chick told me. "And Wilkins won't last long out here, neither." Then, perhaps noting my nauseous expression, he slapped me on the shoulder and said, "You'll be fine. Now get going."

  Then he hoisted me in the air and set me down behind the wheel, beside a panting, sweating Dr. Krantz.

  "Uh," I said, to Dr. Krantz. "How you doin', Doc?"

  Dr. Krantz gave a queasy look.

  "Oh," he said. "I'm just great."

  Chick tapped on the closed window between us. With some effort, I managed to get it rolled down.

  "One more thing." Chick reached under his leather jacket and drew out a stubby black object. It took me a minute to realize what it was. When I did, I nearly threw up.

  "Oh, no!" I said, putting out both hands, as if to ward him off. "You get that thing away from me."

  Chick merely stuck his arm through the open window and deposited the object on my lap.

  "Anyone comes near you or the truck," he said, not loudly enough for Dr. K to hear, but loudly enough for me to hear him over the sound of gunfire behind us, "you shoot. Understand?"

  "Chick," I said, looking down at the gun, and feeling sicker than ever. It had been one thing when I'd try to blow Kerchief-Head away. That had been in the heat of the moment. But this …

  "Hey," Chick said. "You think Henderson's the only crazy in these woods? Not by a long shot. And he's got a lot of friends. You just drive, you'll be all right. Only shoot if you have to."

  I nodded. I didn't dare look at Dr. Krantz.

  "Remember," Chick said through the driver's side window. "Pump the brakes."

  "Sure," I said, still feeling like throwing up.

  Chick smacked the rusted hood, knocking off several inches of snow, and said, "Get going, then."

  Fighting back my nausea, I rolled up the window then glanced through the rear windshield and yelled to Seth, "You ready back there?"

  Seth, his arms around Rob's shoulders, nodded. Beside him, Chigger sat with his tongue lolling, happy to be going for a ride.

  "Ready," Seth yelled.

  I looked beside me. Dr. Krantz did not look good. For one thing, he was in a pretty awkward position, with one leg stretched out at an odd angle in front of him. The lenses of his glasses were completely fogged up, he was almost as pale as the snow outside his window. But he was still conscious, and I guess that's all that mattered.

  "Ready, Dr. Krantz?" I asked.

  He nodded tensely.

  "Just do it," he rasped.

  So I put my foot on the gas. . . .

  C H A P T E R

  17

  Once when we were little, Ruth had a birthday party at the Zoom Floom. The Zoom Floom was located on the same hillside as Paoli Peaks Ski Resort. It was a water slide that only operated in summertime. The way you went down it was, you laid down on this rubber mat, and an attendant pushed you off.

  Then, suddenly, you were plummeting down a mountain, with about fifty billion tons of water pushing you even faster downward, and when you opened your mouth to scream, all of that water got into your mouth, and you went around these hairpin curves that seemed like they might kill you, and usually your mat slipped out from under you and you were skidding down the slide with just your suit on. And the surface of the slide was rough enough to take the skin off your hipbones, and with every second you were certain you were to going drown or at least crack your head open, until at last you plunged into this four-foot-deep pool at the bottom and came up choking and gasping for air, only to be hit in the head by your mat a moment or two later.

  And then you grabbed your mat and started up the stairs to go again. You had to. Because it was so freaking fun.

  But sliding down the wooded hill from Jim Henderson's militia compound? Yeah, so not fun.

  And if we lived through it—which I doubted we would? Yeah, so never doing it again.

  I realized pretty early on as we plunged straight at the pine trees that formed a thick wall around the True Americans' compound that Chick was right about one thing: The plows certainly hadn't been near Jim Henderson's place. I found the road pretty quickly—or what passed for a road, apparently, in the opinion of the True Americans. It was really just a track between the pine trees, the branches of many of which hung so low, they brushed against the top of the cab as we went by.

  But the snow that lay across the so-called road was thick, and beneath it seemed to be a real nice layer of ice. As the truck careened down the hillside path, branches whipping against it, causing Seth and Chigger, in the back, to duck down low, it took every ounce of strength I had just to control the wheel, to keep the front tires from spinning out and sending us—oh, yes—into the deep ravine to my left. A ravine that I was quite sure in summertime made a charming fishing and swimming hole, but which now appeared to me, as I barreled alongside it, without even a token guardrail between it and me, a pit to hell.

  All this, of course, was only visible to me thanks to the moonlight, which was fortunately generous. I had the truck's brights on, but in a way that only made things worse, because then I could plainly see every near-catastrophe looming before us. I probably would have been better off just closing my eyes, for all the good my jerking on the wheel and pumping the brakes, as Chick had suggested, seemed to be doing me.

  None of this was helped by the fact that all the jolting seemed to have brought Dr. Krantz out from his state of semi-consciousness. He was awake, all right, and hanging on for dear life to the dashboard. There were no seatbelts in the cab—apparently, passenger safety was not of primary concern to the True Americans. Dr. Krantz was being jounced all over the place, and there wasn't a blessed thing I could do about it … or about Rob and Seth, in the back, who were receiving the same nice treatment.

  I have to admit though that Dr. Krantz wasn't helping very much by grabbing his leg with the tourniquet on it and sucking air in between his teeth every time we passed over a particularly large rock in the road, hidden beneath all that snow. I mean, I know it must have hurt and all, but hello, I was driving. I kept glancing over to make sure the
tourniquet was still tight. I had to, since he hadn't let me torque it off.

  I was glancing over at Dr. Krantz's leg when I suddenly heard him suck in his breath, and not because we'd gone over a bump. I quickly glanced through the windshield, but could see nothing more horrifying that what we'd already encountered, treacherous drop-offs and looming trees. Then I heard a tap at the back window, and turned my head.

  Seth, white-faced and panicked-looking, pointed behind him.

  "We got company!" he yelled.

  I glanced in the rearview mirror—then realized that, disobeying one of the first rules of driving, I had not thought to adjust my mirrors before I put my foot on the gas. I couldn't see squat out of them, thanks to their having been tilted for a much taller person than me.

  Reaching up, I grasped the rearview mirror and tried to adjust it so that I could see what was behind us, while at the same time navigating a ten-foot dip in the road that sent all of us airborne for a second or two. . . .

  And then I saw it. Two True Americans barreling after us in a four by four. A pretty new one, too, if you asked me. And these guys seemed to know what they were doing. They were gaining on us already, and I hadn't even noticed their headlights, which meant they couldn't have been behind us for all that long.

  I did the only thing I could, under the circumstances. I floored it.

  This strategy, apparently, was not one Dr. Krantz seemed prepared to fully embrace.

  "For God's sake, Jessica," he said, speaking for the first time since being put in the cab. "You're going to kill us all."

  "Yeah," I said, keeping my eyes on the road. "Well, what do you think these guys are going to do to us if they catch us?"

  "There's another way," Dr. Krantz said. "Give me that gun."

  I nearly cracked up laughing at that one. "No freaking way."

  "Jessica." Dr. Krantz sounded mad. "There's no alternative."

  "You are not," I said, "starting a shootout with those guys with my boyfriend and Seth in the back there, completely unprotected. Sorry."

  Dr. Krantz shook his head. "Jessica, I assure you. I am an expert marksman."

  "Yeah, but I'll bet they aren't." I nodded toward the rearview mirror. "And if they start aiming for you, chances are, they're going to hit me. Or Seth. Or Rob. So you can forget"—We hit a particularly large bump in the road and went flying for a second or two—"about it."

  Dr. Krantz, it was clear, wasn't about to forget about it. Fortunately, however, that last bump sent him into paroxysms of pain, so he was too busy to think about the gun for a little while. . . .

  But not too busy to see, as I soon did, the horrifying sight that loomed before us. And that was a large portion of the road that had disappeared.

  That's right, disappeared, as if it had never been there. It took me a minute or two to realize that what it was, in fact, was a small wooden bridge that, undoubtedly due to rotting wood, had collapsed under the weight of all that snow. Now there was a six-foot-wide gap between this side of the ravine and the far side … the side to medical care for Rob and Dr. Krantz. And to freedom.

  "Slow down!" Dr. Krantz screamed. I swear, if his leg closest to me hadn't been all busted up, he would have tried to reach over with it and slam down the brakes himself. "Jessica, don't you see it?"

  I saw it all right. But what I saw was our one chance to get away from these clowns.

  Which was why I pressed down on that gas pedal for all I was worth.

  "Hang on!" I screamed at Seth.

  Dr. Krantz threw his arms out to brace himself against the roof of the cab and the dashboard, as the ravine loomed ever closer. "Jessica!" he yelled. "You are insane—"

  And then the wheels of the pickup left the ground, and we were flying. Really. Just like in dreams. You know the ones, where you dream you can fly? And while you're in the air, it's totally quiet, and all you can hear is your heartbeat, and you don't even dare breathe because if you do, you might drop down to the ground again, and you don't want that to happen because what you are experiencing is a miracle, the miracle of flight, and you want to make it last as long as you possibly can. . . .

  And then, with a crash, we were down again, on the far side of the ravine … and still going, faster than ever. Only the jolt of our landing had sent all of our bones grinding together—I know I bit my tongue—not to mention, it seemed to blow the shocks out of the truck. It certainly blew something out, since the truck shimmied all over, then made a pathetic whining sound. . . .

  But it kept going. I kept my foot to that gas pedal, and that truck kept on going.

  "Oh my God," Dr. Krantz kept saying. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. . . ."

  Cyrus, I knew, was gone. I dared a glance over my shoulder, as the truck ground up a steep incline on the far side of the ravine we'd jumped.

  "You guys okay back there?" I yelled, and was relieved to see Seth's white face, and Chigger's laughing one, right there.

  "We lost 'em!" Seth yelled, triumphantly. "Look!"

  I looked. And Seth was right. The four by four had tried the same jump we had, but hadn't been able to get up as much speed as we had. Now it lay with its crumpled nose in the creek bed, the two men inside struggling to get out.

  Something burst from within me. Suddenly, I was yelling, "Yeehaw!" like a cowboy. I never lifted my foot off the gas, but it was all I could do to stay in my seat behind that wheel. I wanted to jump out and kiss everyone in sight. Even Dr. Krantz. Even Chigger.

  And then, without warning, we were bursting through the trees, and sliding onto the main road. Just like that. The moon was shining down hard, reflecting off the snow carpeting the barren fields all around us. After being so deep in the dark woods, all that light was almost blinding … blinding and the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen. Even as I was slamming on the brakes and we went sliding across the icy highway, I was smiling happily. We'd made it! We'd really made it!

  When the truck finally slid to a halt, I risked a glance at the wooded hill behind us. You couldn't tell, just by looking at it, that it housed a bunch of wacko survivalists. It just looked, you know, like a pretty wooded hill.

  Except for the smoke pouring from the top of it out into the moonlit sky. Really. It kind of looked like pictures I'd seen of Mount St. Helens, right before it blew up. Only on a much smaller scale, of course.

  I looked around. We were in the middle of nowhere. There wasn't a farmhouse, or even a trailer, to be seen. Certainly nowhere I could make a phone call.

  Then I remembered Dr. Krantz's cell phone.

  I glanced over at him, but the guy was out. I guess that last burst of speed did him in. I leaned over and pawed around in his coat for a minute, then finally located the phone inside a pocket that also contained a Palm Pilot, a pack of Juicy Fruit, and a lot of used-up Kleenex. I helped myself to a piece of the Juicy Fruit, then opened up the rear window and passed the pack, along with the cell phone, to Seth.

  "Here," I said to him, as he took both. "Call your parents to let them know you're all right, and that they can pick you up in five minutes at County Medical. Then call the cops and tell them what's happening up at Jim Henderson's place. If the fire department's going to get up there, they'll need to bring a plow." Then I remembered the blown-out bridge. "And maybe a road crew," I added.

  Seth, after stuffing the Juicy Fruit in his mouth, eagerly began to dial. I turned back to face the road. My arms ached from my battle with the steering wheel, and despite the cold, there was a ribbon of sweat running all up and down my chest. But we had made it. We had made it.

  Almost.

  I committed twenty-seven traffic violations getting Rob and Dr. Krantz to the hospital. I went thirty miles over the speed limit—forty outside of town—went through three stoplights, made an illegal left-hand turn, and went the wrong way down a one-way street. Not that it mattered much. There was practically no one out on the streets, thanks to all the snow. The only time I ran into traffic was outside the Chocolate Moose, where a lo
t of kids from Ernie Pyle High hang out. It was after eleven, so the Moose was closed, but there were still kids around, necking in their cars. When I blew past them, I laid on the horn, just for the fun of it. I saw a number of startled heads lift up as I flew by. I yelled, "Yeehaw," at them, and a couple of irritated jocks yelled, "Grit!" back at me. I guess because of the truck. And maybe because of the yeehaw. And quite possibly because of Chigger.

  But you know what? They couldn't have called me something that filled me with more pride.

  When I swung around the entrance to the hospital, I saw that I had a choice of two entrances: the one for emergency vehicles only, and the one for general admittance.

  Of course I chose the one for the emergency vehicles. I figured I'd come skidding to a halt in front of it, you know, like on The Dukes of Hazard, and all these emergency room personnel would come running out, all concerned about hearing the brakes squeal.

  Only it didn't happen quite like that, because I guess most emergency vehicles don't go skidding into that entrance very much, and even though it had been plowed and salted, there was still a lot of ice. So instead of skidding to a halt in front of the emergency room doors, I sort of ended up driving through them.

  But hey. All the emergency room personnel did come running up, just like I'd thought they would.

  Fortunately the emergency room doors were glass, so crashing into them really didn't cause that much damage to my passengers. I mean, once the front wheels hit the emergency room floor and got some traction, the brakes worked, so Seth and Rob were fine. And Dr. Krantz was unconscious anyway, so when his head hit the dashboard, it probably didn't even hurt that much. It was more like a little tap. I know that's how it felt when I was flung against the steering wheel. Fortunately the truck was so old, it didn't have air bags, so we didn't have to deal with that embarrassment.

  Still, the people in the emergency bay were surprisingly unsympathetic to my predicament. I mean, you would think that after what I'd been through, they'd be a little more understanding, but no. They didn't act at all like the emergency room people on that show on TV.