As soon as his back was turned toward the door, I saw a movement by the corner of the building that housed the bathrooms. A slight man or boy, dressed all in black, poked his head out from around the corner. He placed a finger to his lips, or where his lips would have been if I could see them through his ski-mask. Then he was gone, vanishing back around the corner so quickly I almost questioned whether I had really seen him.
“You have until I count to three,” the soldier said, banging on the door once more. “After that, I will come in and help you finish up, if I must.”
“You bloody ...” Ben started to say, but Luke and I quickly stepped between him and the soldier.
“That won’t help, Ben,” I said. “It’ll just get you beaten up like Luke and me.”
“One ... two ... thr-”
The soldier suddenly stood straighter and cursed in Chinese. He grabbed the back of his neck, pulling something out of it. It looked like a long, sharp needle with a spongy ball at one end.
“What ...?”
Before he could finish his sentence, he crumpled and fell to the ground.
I walked over to the prone form and bent over him awkwardly, twisting to try and grab his knife with my tied hands. “Help me get his knife,” I said to Luke. “We can cut our wrists free and get the hell out of here.” I knew the person in black had done this, but I had no way of knowing if the ‘enemy of my enemy’ was my friend. If we could get free and get the truck, we might not need to find out.
“Um, Isaac,” Luke replied, looking over my shoulder and not moving.
“What are you waiting for? Hurry,” I said.
“Isaac, there are two guys dressed like Ninjas right behind you.”
“Yes,” Ben said, stepping up next to Luke. “And they aren’t the turtle kind.”
I spun around and saw the black clad person I had seen before and a taller man, dressed identically. They weren’t dressed as Ninjas, I realized; they were in black Kung Fu gear with black ski masks. The taller man was holding a sort of tube thing in his hands and I realized it was a blowgun. My friend Tommy used to have the NERF version of one. We’d played with it the last time I had seen him.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Cut them free,” the taller figure said to the shorter one. “I’m going to go see if Allie and Arthur have secured the truck.”
“That guard said there was another one around the back of the building,” I said.
“Already taken care of, before we got your friend out through the bathroom window,” the tall man said, as he walked away.
“So Brooke is safe?” Ben asked the shorter one.
“Well, as safe as can be expected,” the shorter Ninja said, coming forward with a pocket knife. “Now, turn around so I can free your hands.” He quickly cut us free and pulled his mask off to reveal a teenage face framed by shaggy blond hair. With the ski-mask off, he looked more like a surfer than a Ninja.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m Isaac, this is Luke and Ben.”
“I’m John,” he replied. “Follow me. Sonny wants us to gather at the truck.”
“What truck?” Luke asked.
“The one you came in. Come on.”
We followed John back to the truck, where we found two more ‘Ninjas’ along with the taller man. Two more Chinese soldiers were laid out next to the cab; neither appeared to be breathing. As we reached them, Brooke and another girl dressed all in black walked out from behind the bathroom building. The tall man turned to us and removed his hood. He was Chinese.
I must have flinched, because he immediately burst out laughing and said in his perfect American accent, “Don’t freak out, dude. I’m not one of them, but luckily I have their genes or I’d have been dead meat when the Flu hit. I’m Sonny Li.”
Within a few minutes, we had our backpacks back, and, happily, also our weapons. They had been confiscated by the Chinese back at Will’s and had been loaded into a cargo trunk under the side of the truck. Obviously, the Chinese didn’t allow Will’s group to keep more weapons than necessary.
Sonny offered us refuge with his group and, in return, we had told him about the radio message and the prospect of a safe haven in New Hampshire. Before we left, he changed into the uniform of the soldier closest to his size. We climbed into the truck for the trip back to Worcester, where Sonny and his group were from.
The pit stop had come at the first rest area on the freeway between Worcester and Boston. We were joined in the back by four other teenagers, John, Allie, Karen, and Arthur, while Sonny drove the truck.
It turned out Sonny was a Chinese-American, born in China less than a week before his parents had come to live in the United States. Sonny had no memories of his homeland. He barely spoke Chinese as his father had been adamant that he be raised as an American. The only place where this didn’t apply was in martial arts, where Mr. Li had made sure his son was well-trained in traditional Chinese arts, such as Tai Chi and Wing Chun Kung Fu.
Sonny had apparently taken such training to heart. The others explained he’d won several martial arts tournaments as a teen and young adult and, when the infection came, a 28-year old Sonny had been the Sifu of one of the most popular martial arts academies in Worcester.
Arthur, John, Allie, and Karen were what remained of his students, along with Mark and Samara who had been left back at their base of operations. I didn’t let on about my own Kung Fu experience just then; I didn’t feel it was necessary. Besides, I still wasn’t sure of the group yet and felt it might be better to keep my cards close to my chest, especially given what had happened when we trusted Will and his group.
After a quick stop at a department store to load some supplies into the back of the truck, we were soon on our way to the martial arts academy where Sonny and his students had been staying.
11
Sonny parked the truck in the underground parking garage next to the academy, and we helped them unload the supplies they had picked up. The academy took up the whole ground floor of a low rise building. It was carpeted and tidy with equipment and gear stowed neatly on shelving against the wall. There was also a rack of assorted hand weapons that took my interest.
When we were done, I asked how safe he felt driving the truck. Sonny responded that the Chinese marked their trucks with a special paint on the top to identify them to their satellites, so until the truck was reported as overdue, Chinese monitoring would not identify the truck as a threat.
“We can’t keep it very long though. Tonight, after dark, we’ll drive it to a different parking garage and burn it,” Sonny said. “This will make the third truck we’ve commandeered from those bastards ... the first one that had prisoners in it, though.”
“Third?” I said. “And they haven’t changed their routines or sent an armed response?”
“They probably think it’s just a group of kids, not worth their time to send in the cavalry. There is a lot of helicopter activity the day after a truck goes overdue, but it dies down again pretty quick,” he said. “We have a radio from the soldier in the first truck, so we listen in on their chatter now and then, although I’m the only one here that even partially understands it.”
“They’re probably speaking Mandarin, while what little Chinese you know is likely Cantonese,” Brooke said.
“That’s right, how did you know?” He looked impressed.
“They call you Sifu,” Brooke said. “That is a Cantonese term. In Mandarin, the term is Shifu, a subtle but tell-tale difference.”
“You speak Chinese?” Sonny asked.
“Just a little,” she replied, blushing faintly. “I’ve had a year of Mandarin, and Mr. Wong, the teacher, often likes ... liked to point out the differences between Mandarin and Cantonese.”
“Do you or any of your blokes know Morse code, by any chance?” Ben asked, stepping up beside his sister and placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I think Arthur and John have a handle on it,” Sonny said. “They were both Boy Scouts.”
“Do you h
ave a normal radio with AM reception?” I asked. “It would be great to get the message written down so we have more to go on.”
“Of course, although we haven’t turned the radio on in over a week now,” Sonny replied. “I didn’t even think of trying the AM channels.”
Sonny took some time to check over our injuries. My head still smarted from the rifle butt to the forehead, and my arm and shoulder had come out in a massive purple bruise where the rubber bullet had hit me. At least the new injuries meant I barely even felt the muscle I had strained in my thigh anymore.
Luke’s ribcage was in a similar state, and he was lucky that none of the hits he had taken had broken ribs or done more damage. He didn’t show any signs of concussion when Sonny looked into his eyes and neither did I. Apparently, the Chinese soldiers had been quite skillful in disabling us without doing too much damage. When he was done, he looked us over.
“You guys look beat and, after what you went through, who can blame you? Go ahead and take a load off. The practice mats make excellent beds. I’ll wake you if we learn anything new.”
That is exactly what we did, and you know something? He was right, the practice mats for the academy made quite excellent mattresses to sleep on. Luke and Ben were asleep almost as soon as they lay down; Brooke followed soon after.
It took a while for me to get to sleep. I was thinking about how lucky we were to be here. Lucky that our captors had chosen to stop there, lucky that Sonny and his group had been out that particular night on one of their ‘missions’ to harass the enemy. Maybe our fortunes were turning.
I also thought about Sonny. He had been born in China, but raised as an American, and he had a rage inside of him that scared me a little when I heard him talk about the Chinese that were invading his ‘homeland.’
He seemed competent at leading his group of students and, if the trophies in the case by the front doors of the academy were any indication, he was probably capable of kicking a tremendous amount of butt. I worried though, what would happen to him and his wards if the Chinese military decided to launch a strike on Worcester to stop the truck disappearances. I did not want to be here when that went down.
A few isolated patrols without support were one thing, but I somehow doubted that Sonny’s ‘Ninjas’ would be up to taking on a larger group of Chinese soldiers dedicated to hunting them down. I decided I would do my best to talk them into coming with us to the safe haven. They would certainly be an asset to our little group. Lying back, I closed my eyes and fell asleep before I knew it. Since the Flu, I rarely remember my dreams, but that day I dreamed of Sarah and our group playing Monopoly by the fire.
It was late afternoon before Sonny woke us up. He said both Arthur and John had listened to the coded message, and confirmed it was the same message repeated over and over, switching frequencies every other time. He worried that it might simply be automated, with no living person behind it. Excited, Luke and I rushed to the kitchen where Arthur and John sat by the radio.
Arthur slid the writing pad to me.
Safe haven NH. Look for the dragon on the White Mount.
“So, there is no actual location? This is not much more than we already knew,” I said.
“No,” Luke replied. “They can’t be too detailed; it has to be cryptic in case the Chinese come across it. I don’t even know if they use Morse code, but if they do, the message is backwards and only contains clues. It’s pretty clever really. Let me get my atlas, now that we have light and my fingers aren’t numb from the cold.” He rushed out of the room.
“When we decide to go, are you going to come with us?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Sonny replied. “We have it pretty sweet here at the moment, but who knows how long that will last?”
“True. And think, even if we don’t find any other survivors there, it’s going to take the Chinese longer to colonize the mountains of New Hampshire than it is here,” I said.
“That’s likely true,” he replied. “I’ll have to think on it, and run it by the others, see what they think.”
Luke hustled back in, slamming the atlas on the table and pouring over the map of New Hampshire. I looked over his shoulder as he ran his finger over and around the part of the map showing the White Mountains National Forest. His hand froze after only a half a minute and he pressed his finger into the page hard enough for the tip to go white. He looked at me with a triumphant smile. I looked down and saw the words ‘Drake Mountain.’
“What?” A few of the others had joined us and all crowded around, our heads bumping together as we leaned in to get a closer look.
“Read it!” he said.
“Drake Mountain? What about it?”
“Drake! Drake is another word for dragon! Dragon on the white mount!”
“I’ve been there! My parents took me to the Drake Mountain Ski Resort two years ago!”
I looked around; it was Allie who had spoken.
“Well done, Luke!” said Sonny, clapping him on the shoulder. My friend looked stoked and for the moment we were all happy, the woes of the world forgotten at this little beacon of hope.
After we had all calmed down a little, we talked through what we had found out. “So, it’s close to Lincoln, on the southern edge of the White Mountain National Forest. That’s about 150 miles from here to there. Not a fun trip and especially now that the weather looks like it’s turning for the worse,” said Sonny.
“He’s right, about 150 miles from here to Lincoln,” Luke said, after a quick flip back to the Massachusetts’ page. “That’s a hell of a walk, man.”
“I’m hoping we don’t have to.”
“To what?”
“Walk,” I said with a smile. “Sonny’s shown us the way. We commandeer a Chinese patrol truck and drive it there; 150 miles shouldn’t take us longer than, what? Three or four hours? We can do that well before it’s reported as overdue, if we have any luck at all.”
“I’m not sure I’d count on our luck, dude,” Luke said, shaking his head. “It seems to be running both ways lately, and no telling whether it’s good or bad at the moment.”
Later, when we were alone, Luke and I ran through our options.
“We have a while to decide on the exact plan,” I said. “We’ll have to lay low for a few days at least, to allow the uproar over the missing truck to die down.”
“We gonna stay here in the meantime?”
“If Sonny will let us. He seems like a straight up guy,” I replied.
“I could deal with a few more nights sleeping on those mats,” Luke said, his face splitting into a smile. “After the beatings and rubber bullets, my body needs a recharge.”
“Yours and mine both,” I said.
A couple hours later, Sonny invited us along while he took the rental truck to a different parking garage about a mile away to get rid of it. Luke and Ben both decided to stay behind, so it was just me, Arthur, and Karen that went with Sonny.
Arthur and Karen were both about my age. Karen was a redhead with a bit of a temper and Arthur was tall and muscular, with a shock of brown hair and a nose like a knife blade. It was obvious to my eyes they were in love, despite their occasional bickering. We took two five gallon gas cans and a single 20 pound portable propane tank.
“Get the propane and gas out of the back,” Sonny said to Arthur as he parked the truck in the different underground parking garage. Arthur jumped to it and we soon had the propane canister sitting on the floor of the cab beneath the dashboard. “Spread the gas in that can around the cargo area of the truck.” Sonny instructed and Arthur proceeded to dump the contents of the other gas can in the cab, making sure to get a nice puddle around the propane canister. Sonny handed me a road flare.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asked.
“I’ve seen it done,” I replied.
“Light it up and toss it in the back, all the way to the far end so that Arthur has time to pull the door shut. I’ll do the same up here. We’ll make sure that the Chinese
never use this truck again, even if they do find it.”
We did as instructed, and smoke began filling the parking garage as we walked up the stairs to street level. Karen pointed out a sprinkler system mounted on the rafters of each floor but, of course, with no power there was nothing to trigger them. About the time we got to the street, there was an echoing boom behind us. The propane canister had blown.
It was a clear night, a welcome respite from the snowy, overcast weather of the previous couple of days. There was a full, silvery moon, and it caught our attention. It looked so big I felt if I reached out I could almost touch it. With no cloud cover to help hold in the heat though, the night was extremely cold and I was shivering despite my heavy parka as we walked the mile back to the academy.
Along the way, Sonny mentioned a local street gang that had been moving out of their normal territory since the Flu. I have to admit I wasn’t really paying that much attention to him. I was more worried about a Chinese military patrol happening upon us at any moment.
We stayed four days at the academy, and would have stayed more if fate hadn’t conspired to force our hand. Well, fate, dumb luck, or whatever you happen to believe in.
Sonny had been correct. The day after we burned the truck, there was a lot of radio activity from the Chinese, along with helicopters buzzing above the city. From the little that Sonny and Brooke could understand from the radio chatter, a sweep through on Worcester by the military seemed imminent. With all that going on, laying low seemed like the thing to do. Besides, Sonny had still not decided whether he and his group wanted to come with us or not. Giving them more time to decide seemed like the right thing to do.
Aside from the constant worry that the Chinese might discover us, it was a great few days. We were able to recharge and recover from our injuries. I finally let on about my Kung Fu experience and, for the first time in over a month, I was able to practice and spar.
Sonny’s crew were good, especially Arthur, who I could tell was on par with my own skill, possibly better (although I wouldn’t admit it). I had a few sessions with Sonny, and he was way out of my league, on another level completely, in fact. But by the fourth day, I was managing to hold my own against him, defensively at least.
The After Days Trilogy [Books 1-3] Page 10