Hurricane Power

by Sigmund Brouwer

  In my mind, I heard Carlos’s words from the hospital waiting room: “You can’t even let anyone know I came to your house. If they find out, they will do terrible things to me and my family. Maybe to you too.”

  “David...David,” I heard. The voice was a low monotone, like a zombie’s. In a weird way, I recognized the voice. It sounded like my math teacher. “David...David.”

  What kind of nightmare was this?

  “David. David.”

  They brought their knives up to stab me. I screamed.

  I threw myself to the side. The floor opened up beneath me. I felt myself falling. Screaming. Falling. Screaming.

  Thunk!

  I landed.

  It hurt.

  I opened my eyes. I was no longer in a hallway trapped by guys with knives. I was on the floor of my classroom. With my desk on top of me.

  I’d been asleep?

  “David.”

  It was my math teacher’s voice. Mr. Johnson was standing over me. I saw his black shoes first and then his black pants. As I looked up, I saw his white shirt and black tie. Then his face. He was rolling his eyes in disgust.

  I pushed myself to my feet. Everyone in the classroom had started giggling. I didn’t dare look around. I hoped Jennifer wasn’t laughing at me.

  “If you want to sleep in class,” Mr. Johnson said, “bring a pillow.”

  “Um. Yes, sir,” I said. “I’m sorry. I was up late last night.”

  “Don’t let it happen again.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  He shook his head sadly. “And David?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Wipe that drool off your chin.”

  Since it was Friday, we didn’t have track practice. Fridays were rest days, according to Coach Lewis. A day off, he said, gave our muscles a chance to rebuild and gave our blood sugars a chance to rise.

  Instead of going to the gym right after school like I’d done since Tuesday, I went to the main office.

  The secretary looked up at me from behind her desk. She had orange streaks in her hair and a round face. Her shirt was purple. She was maybe twenty-five, and she popped her gum as she chewed.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  I pointed at the computer on her desk.

  “I’m wondering if you could print out my registration information for me,” I said.

  “You don’t know anything about yourself?” She popped a bubble.

  “Yes, but I don’t know about what’s in the computer.”

  “You filled out the form when you registered, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but—”

  “So why do you need to see it again?”

  I tried not to make a smart comment. “I just need to see it,” I said.

  “Got identification?” she asked, popping her gum again. She looked like she enjoyed making me work for this. “We have privacy laws, you know. How do I know you’re not trying to find out about some other guy without his permission?”

  I pulled out my wallet. I showed her my identification. She looked it over carefully. She studied the photo. She studied my face.

  Finally she sighed. “All right then,” she said. “It looks like I can’t stop you.”

  You sure did your best though, I thought. I kept a polite smile on my face.

  “Sit down,” she said. “This is going to take a minute.”

  I sat down in the chair she pointed to. I stared at the clock and waited.

  I’d had all day—except for my dumb nap in math class—to think about this. Not that I should have been wasting any of my classroom time, but this whole thing with Carlos was too strange.

  If his family was here illegally, how had he been able to register for school? I remembered all the paperwork I’d had to go through to register and get on class lists. I knew there was something strange going on. And for that matter, why had Carlos’s address been wrong on the computer? How had he known my dad was a doctor? How had he known where to find me?

  Jennifer told me after math class that she had not spoken to Carlos since our meeting in the library. So he hadn’t learned about my family from her. The only thing I could think of was the school computer. Coach Lewis had been able to get personal information about Carlos from the computer. I figured maybe Carlos had somehow been able to get stuff about me.

  This secretary had just answered one of my questions. I’d wondered how easy it was to get at another student’s information. Now I knew she wouldn’t print out the information unless you had a photo ID.

  That meant one of two things. Either Carlos had gotten stuff about me another way, without the computer system. Or he’d found another way to get into the school computer...

  “Here you are,” the secretary said, her gum snapping.

  She looked over the printout before she handed it to me. “You aren’t much of a rocket scientist, are you?”

  I didn’t get what she meant. At least, not until I read the printout.

  What I read first didn’t surprise me. At the top of the printout, I saw my address and what my parents did for a living. That told me that all Carlos had needed was the computer information to know where to find my doctor father and me. But it still didn’t tell me how he had gotten into the computer.

  Halfway down the page, I found out what the secretary had meant by her little insult about me not being a rocket scientist.

  The printout listed all my high school grades. None of the grades were from McKinley; I hadn’t been here long enough. They were all the grades that had been transferred from my old high school.

  And the grades were all wrong.

  I was a B+ student.

  All these grades showed me at D-.

  Someone, somehow, had entered the computer system and changed them.

  chapter twenty

  Ten minutes later, I was staring at a black rose inside my locker, trying to figure out how it had gotten there. That’s when my nightmare began to come true. I didn’t see it coming in time to stop it.

  My locker is at the far end of the school on the second floor. To reach it, I had to go down a narrow hall off the main hallway. Lockers lined both walls. I was completely alone when I found the rose.

  I looked closer. It was a regular red rose, but someone had spray-painted it black and put it inside my locker. In a weird way, it made sense. Whoever had read my computer file could have gotten my locker combination from it too.

  But a black rose?

  Behind me, I knew the narrow hall was empty, just like in my dream. Half an hour had passed since the final bell had rung. The school was like a tomb. Which wasn’t a good setting for a nightmare.

  I heard footsteps, just like I had in my dream.

  When I made myself look up, they were there. The two guys who had threatened Carlos. The two guys with black roses tattooed on their arms.

  Suddenly the rose in my locker made sense. Too much sense.

  They walked toward me slowly, as if they had all the time in the world. Which they did. No one else was around.

  They smiled. Not Welcome Wagon smiles. These were the smiles of wolves checking out a sheep who has wandered into a trap.

  I began to back down the hall, away from them.

  “Not so fast,” the biggest one said. “Look behind you.”

  “Nice trick,” I said. “Like I’m going to fall for that?”

  “No trick, loser,” a voice behind me said. “It’s time to teach you a lesson.”

  I turned my head quickly.

  Two more guys. Big. Leather vests. Ragged jeans. Black rose tattoos on their left biceps. They were blocking my way back to the main hallway. They too were walking toward me, moving slowly, smiles on their faces.

  One of them had a cell phone. The other waved a switchblade.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “How do you guys get weapons into the school?”

  “Easy,” he said, kissing the blade with mock sweetness. “Someone tossed this one to me from outside. All I had t
o do was wait at the window we’d agreed on. Then I just hid it in my locker until I needed it.”

  “Good to know,” I said, trying to sound brave.

  The other guy spoke into his cell phone.

  “We’ve got him here in the A wing,” he said. “We’ll bring him down the back stairs. Meet us there.”

  There were others?

  My face must have shown my surprise.

  “We have guys all over the school,” the one with the knife said, answering my silent question. “Call it a network. A secret network. You can’t get away from us.”

  This is what I knew from a self-defense course: The best time to resist is right away. If someone comes up to you in a parking lot and tries to force you into a car, the first thirty seconds are crucial. Once someone gets you into a car, you’re in more trouble. Once that person gets you out of the city, you’re in even bigger trouble. And so on. Resist loudly and publicly, and nine times out of ten, the bad guy will run away.

  So I screamed as loud as I could.

  Nobody ran away.

  “Security guard’s at the other end of the school,” the guy with the cell phone said. “Someone is watching him and will call me if he gets too close.”

  Oh.

  So I did the next best thing.

  I ran.

  They thought there was nowhere for me to go. But there was one place they hadn’t covered: the open door to a classroom right beside me.

  I slammed the door shut. A desk was nearby.

  In one motion I pulled it toward the door. I tilted it and wedged it under the handle just as they reached the door.

  Through the door’s window, I saw them laughing.

  They weren’t worried that I’d get away.

  I heard the guy on the cell phone tell someone where I was.

  One of the others rattled the handle. The door was stuck. He pushed hard and the door gave a little. I could see that the legs of the desk would probably slip on the waxed floor. I guessed I had less than thirty seconds to do something.

  I ran to the desk at the front of the classroom. There was a telephone that I hoped was connected to the office. And I hoped the gum-snapping secretary was still there.

  I picked it up.

  It dialed automatically.

  It rang.

  No answer.

  Three rings. Four. Five...

  The desk slipped, and the door opened slightly as all four guys pushed.

  I dropped the phone and ran to the window.

  The school grounds were nearly empty. This wasn’t the type of place kids hung around if they didn’t have to.

  I looked down. I didn’t like what I saw. Two long stories down to the bushes that grew along the building.

  But more banging at the door made me act.

  I opened a window.

  I stuck my head out and looked to the right.

  A drainpipe!

  The rusted drainpipe was easily within my reach. Even if I only had time to crawl halfway down, I could get close enough to the ground to jump safely.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  They almost had the door open wide enough to get in.

  I couldn’t wait. I stretched out to reach the drainpipe, hoping it would hold my weight. I got my hands on it and let my body slide out the window.

  It held! So far, so good.

  I began to lower myself, scraping my knees and elbows against the rough sandstone wall.

  Five seconds later, I heard voices above me.

  I expected someone to reach out to try and shake the drainpipe. I was still too far off the ground to jump. All I needed was five more seconds.

  Then I heard the guy on the cell phone.

  “Call them in from all points,” he said calmly from above me. “Get them to the back of the school. He’s climbing down the wall. You should be able to trap him on the ground.”

  All points? How many were there?

  I found out seconds later.

  Halfway down the drainpipe, I looked around. The once-empty grounds outside the school were no longer empty.

  At least a dozen guys were jogging toward me from different corners of the school.

  chapter twenty-one

  I didn’t have much choice. I had to get to the ground as quickly as possible. I scooted down the drainpipe a few more feet.

  I checked the ground.

  I was right above a bush.

  As I pushed off the drainpipe, I caught the edge of the bush and rolled onto the grass. Then I scrambled to my hands and knees.

  It didn’t feel like I had broken any bones. That was the good news.

  The bad news was that three guys were already so close I didn’t have a chance. I couldn’t possibly get up and run before they caught me.

  Then there was the other bad news. It was a smell I wished I didn’t recognize. I looked down.

  Sure enough, my nose had not lied. Half of it was still on the grass beneath me. The other half was smeared on my shirt.

  What was it with Florida dogs? Were they all huge and able to eat like elephants? And do other stuff like elephants?

  I raised my head again. Two guys stood right in front of me.

  I knew a third one was behind me. That wasn’t hard to figure out after I felt him kick me.

  “Get up,” one of them said. “It’s time for a talk.”

  Farther away, I could see that the others had slowed down. After all, now that I was trapped there was no reason to run.

  The guy behind me kicked me again. I didn’t really think they wanted to talk.

  I could think of only one thing to do.

  I really didn’t want to do it. I mean, if I’d had any luck, I would have landed in a place where I could scoop sand or dirt in my hands and throw it in their faces to give me a chance to get away.

  But, of course, there was no sand or dirt. I was on grass.

  That left me only one thing to throw in their faces.

  I brought my hands together as I got ready to stand. My head and shoulders hid what my hands were doing. I grabbed the weapon that the big dog had left me. A scoop in each hand.

  I stood up.

  And I threw with all my might at the two guys in front of me.

  It splattered in their faces, covering their eyes and noses.

  While they were blinded, I took my chance. I bolted forward, hoping to leave them in the dust shouting about what had hit them in the face.

  But the guy behind me managed to get a hand on my shirt. He spun me around and grabbed my shoulders. I stood face-to-face with a wide-shouldered kid with dark hair and angry eyes.

  I reached out, wiping both of my hands across his face, catching mainly his mouth and chin.

  He dropped his hands from my shoulders, gagging and spitting, which gave me some open space.

  I took it.

  My feet still hurt a bit from where the tacks had poked through my shoes, but I hardly felt the pain. I ran at full speed, aiming for a gap that was quickly closing as the others moved to cut me off.

  They didn’t have a chance.

  They weren’t running for their lives—I was.

  The closest any of them came to me was five yards. Then I was past them all, out in the open field. It became a foot race, with me leading about eight or nine guys.

  I headed for the far corner of the grounds, about two hundred yards away. I had seen an opening someone had cut in the chain-link fence. By the time I reached it, my lead had increased to fifty yards.

  I burst through the opening. I had two choices. Right or left. Up the street or down. Up the street toward houses and trees and yards and parked cars. Or down the street toward stores and parking lots and restaurants.

  I decided to head up the street. I hoped the guy with the cell phone didn’t have other people hiding up there.

  I pushed hard, pounding along the sidewalk. The more I ran, the less my feet hurt.

  It was so good to be free, I didn’t even care about the smell that filled my nostrils with
every deep breath I took.

  Now all I had to do was find a safe place to hide. And a place to wash my hands.

  chapter twenty-two

  As I ran, I wondered if I should call the police. The guys behind me were falling farther and farther back. In a few minutes, I would be far enough away to cut into a yard, come out the other side somewhere and disappear. That would give me time to find a telephone.

  But all I’d be able to tell the police was that some guys had been chasing me. “To do what?” the police would ask. “I don’t know,” I’d have to say. “I didn’t let them catch me.”

  “So what do you expect us to do?” the police would ask.

  “I don’t know,” I’d have to say. “Can you ask them to leave me alone?” And the police would laugh at me like I was a little cry-baby.

  I reached a corner and turned hard. I’d settled into a fast jog, and my lungs and legs were getting into a good rhythm. I wasn’t worried about running out of energy anytime soon. I was more worried about Monday, when I returned to school. After all, how often could I escape from these guys? And for that matter, what had I done wrong? And what was this network thing about? Spies everywhere in the school? Connected by cell phones?

  I turned another corner, cut through a yard and jumped a low hedge. It took me into another yard. I saw a hose stretched into a flower bed with the water running.

  I stopped. My chest was heaving for air, but I wasn’t in pain.

  I reached out for the water, scrubbing my hands together, cleaning them as quickly as I could.

  I looked back but saw no signs of anyone. I hoped they had given up, but I wasn’t going to take a chance.

  I put my thumb over the end of the hose to shoot water at the front of my shirt. The water was cold and made me gasp. But I kept spraying, trying to drive off as much of the stuff as I could. I was sure I’d have to throw the shirt away, like I had the other one. But at least I wouldn’t have the stuff clinging to me as I went home.

  Still no sign of anyone. I began jogging again, slipping out the back of the yard and onto a different street.

  As I ran, I passed an old rusting Cadillac parked by the curb. The back window was smashed out. The rear bumper was totally crunched. I remembered it from the night before, when Dad and I had gone to Carlos’s house.