Unflappable

by Suzie Gilbert

  “That’s true,” said Adam, pulling a topographical map from his inner pocket. “But…may I?” He unfolded it and laid it on the desk. “Here you are,” he said, pointing. “Here, north of you, is a 500-acre parcel. Over here are three houses. To the west is a 150-acre parcel, and here are twelve more houses. I’m thinking I might buy all of it. Some of the owners might not want to sell, but they’d probably change their minds if I offered them six or eight times what their properties are worth. Then I’d have a great big piece of contiguous land for Gladstone Oil and Gas, which I own. As you know, fracking is big around here.”

  Elias recovered first. “You can’t build in there,” he said, pointing. “Those are wetlands, and that’s a protected wildlife area!”

  Adam regarded him with a kindly expression. “Mr. Jenkins,” he said. “Do you honestly think that under this administration, environmental regulations are even worth the paper they’re printed on? It’s a free-for-all. And if you’ve got local opposition?” He placed a finger on the map. “There’s your wildlife area, and there’s your little buffer zone. I can put the drill pad right next to it. You’ll be able to see the lights from your driveway.”

  The room was still.

  “Maybe you don’t know where she is,” said Adam. “But I’ll bet you could find out in, say, two days. If you do, I’ll donate $5 million to your wildlife center. You could save a lot of animals with that. Maybe buy some additional land so you can to protect yourselves a little more. If you don’t?” He shrugged and began to fold the map.

  Celia felt an unexpected surge of fury. She straightened her back and raised her chin. “Get out,” she said.

  Adam tucked the map into his pocket. “All I want to do is talk to my wife,” he said, and Roland pulled the screen door shut behind them.

  The limousine rolled back down the driveway. “I think that went fairly well,” said Adam. “But what the hell is wrong with these animal people?”

  Roland squinted at a patch of blue. Adam followed his gaze and saw a young girl sitting on a rock, her unruly red hair in a braid, her bare legs scraped and dirty below her shorts. As the car approached she scowled, and with a violent motion she lifted one arm and raised her middle finger.

  “Jesus Christ,” muttered Roland, and looked away.

  • • •

  “They’re coming at four o’clock!” said Trish, as everyone scrambled to their feet.

  “Shit!” said Warren. “I keep underestimating him!”

  “We’ve got eight minutes,” said Luna.

  “What are we going to do with eight minutes?” demanded Ned.

  Warren turned to Trish and Angelica. “Get her and the bird into the tunnel,” he said.

  “The tunnel!” said Angelica. “How do you know about the tunnel?”

  Warren scowled.

  “All right! Fine!”

  Luna, Trish, and Angelica hastened from the room. Warren turned to Ned. “If they’re already here, we can’t use the truck. Listen — you’re gonna have to stay here and slow ‘em down.”

  “But how?”

  “Figure it out!”

  He started to leave, then turned back. “There’s a tunnel that starts a hundred feet behind the Bunker and ends near the road. If there’s any way you can get a vehicle out of here — go right out of the driveway, right again on Pine Lane. The tunnel comes out halfway down.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Do your best, man,” he said, and disappeared.

  Ned glanced out the window to where Angelica hurried toward the woods, Trish and Luna behind her carrying Mars’s crate. He spotted something glinting on the floor, so he crossed the room and bent down. It was Luna’s necklace.

  “Oh, no,” he breathed, staring at the broken clasp. He looked past the front door to the parking area, where the Ram, Trish’s Honda, and Angelica’s Jeep all waited side by side. It was eerily quiet. In the distance, he could see a flashing red light. He slipped Luna’s necklace into his pocket.

  The driveway was narrow, flanked by cedars and dense underbrush. Two squad cars made their way briskly toward the house, stopping just shy of where the driveway fanned into the parking area. The first squad car braked, backed up, and stopped sideways, blocking the parked cars. The second one pulled up behind it.

  Gunderman, a police sergeant, and an officer emerged from the first car and walked toward the house. Two more officers climbed from the second car and headed toward the Bunker. The red light continued to flash at the end of the driveway.

  Five of them here, thought Ned, an unknown number out on the road. There was no way to get the Ram out of the driveway. Even if Luna managed to make it to the road, she could hardly hitch a ride accompanied by a giant eagle crate. His gamer’s mind searched for possibilities, and came up empty. There was a heavy knock on the door. “Rock Ridge Police Department!” came a voice. “Open up!”

  “Coming,” called Ned, moving slowly. He swung the door open, and Gunderman and the police officers eyed him steadily.

  “Where are they?” asked Gunderman.

  Ned was silent. A police officer reached for his handcuffs. “Wait!” said Ned, raising his hands. “I want immunity!”

  “What do I get?” asked Gunderman.

  Ned took a deep breath. “They’re still on the property, but they’ve split up,” he said. “I’m reaching into my pocket, okay?” They nodded, and he pulled out Luna’s necklace. He opened the bead, and showed them the tracking device.

  “It’s how the guy helping her knows where she is,” said Ned. “The clasp is broken, so they probably don’t know she dropped it. She can’t get far without him, and it will lead him straight to me.”

  • • •

  Mars waved his wings in protest only briefly before settling down, hopping into the crate, and settling onto his perch. Luna took one side, Trish the other, and they followed Angelica through the woods to an old stone shed built into the side of a hill. “It came with the house,” panted Trish. “I don’t know what they used it for.”

  “We forgot about it,” said Angelica, struggling to open the rusted iron door. “Give me some room, here.” Gripping the door’s heavy handle, she pulled it with all her weight. The door opened with a screech.

  The room was circular, windowless, and cluttered with old metal furniture and gardening equipment. Luna and Trish lowered the crate to the floor. “We haven’t been back here in years,” said Angelica, pulling a stack of chairs aside and revealing a small inner door. Trish yanked it open. There was nothing but darkness.

  “Do you think it’s caved in?” asked Angelica. She pulled out her phone and flipped on the flashlight. The silent tunnel was bedecked with cobwebs.

  “Assuming we can get through it,” said Trish, “what are we going to do once we get to the end?”

  “We’ll figure it out when we get there,” said Luna.

  “Follow me,” said Angelica.

  • • •

  Warren stopped next to a hickory tree and caught his breath. He had jogged through Trish and Angelica’s densely wooded property, hidden by the forest as he scanned Route 72 and Pine Lane for squad cars. There was a cruiser parked on 72, blocking the bottom of the driveway as two officers patrolled on foot. A Fish and Wildlife SUV glided down Pine Lane, but then it disappeared.

  He approached a stream, scooped up a handful of mud, and wiped it over his face and arms. He kept moving until he spotted a pile of boulders leaning haphazardly together. The landform was unremarkable, except to the naturalist or outdoorsman who might suspect the boulders concealed a cave. When Warren happened upon it six years earlier he had entered it, found the tunnel, discovered the shed, and filed it away for future need. The need had arisen the previous evening, hence their flight into Wisconsin.

  He pulled out his tracking device and his face fell. “The hell is she doing?” he muttered, as the blinking red dot placed her at least 30 yards from the tunnel. Pocketing the device he jogged through the woods, all senses on alert. He passed a section of bear
fencing, and saw Ned standing alone.

  Ned turned, and when Warren saw his expression he stopped in his tracks. In a split second, Gunderman and three police officers appeared from behind the trees. Warren spun and sprinted away, but four steps later the ground hurled him upward, rustling and blurring and surrounding him with patterns of dark and light. He fell, bounced, and as the patterns swam into focus he realized he was hanging from Trish and Angelica’s bear net. He raised a hand to cover his face.

  “You want to finish this up?” shouted Ned. “There’s no way he can get out of there, so come on and I’ll show you where she’s hiding!”

  I’m going to kill that guy, thought Warren.

  “All right,” said Gunderman.

  “Stay with the suspect,” said Sergeant Nielsen to one of the men.

  Gunderman glanced at Warren. “The suspect is secured, Sergeant,” he said. “We’re going to need all your men. I’ll take responsibility.”

  The three officers hesitated, and a snuffling sigh emanated from the far side of the double fence. Just visible over the crest of a hill were the head and shoulders of a very large black bear.

  “Right!” said one of the cops, and they all hurried toward the house.

  Warren watched them go. He reached into a pocket, flipped open his trusty Border Guard, and began to saw.

  • • •

  The fourth officer was waiting by the Bunker. “She and the bird are in the basement,” said Ned as he, Gunderman, and the three officers reached the house. He pointed at the guest house. “There’s another guy in there. ”

  “Why are you cooperating now?” asked Gunderman.

  “I didn’t think it would go this far,” said Ned. “I just want to get out of here.”

  The sergeant and one of the men peeled off toward the guest house. Ned opened the front door and led Gunderman and two officers to the kitchen. “I’m not going down there,” said Ned, gesturing to a red door. “There’s a bear. It’s in a cage, but it’s still a bear.”

  Gunderman and the two cops stared at him suspiciously. Ned crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, feeling the throb of his heart, his only plan to stall them as long as possible. “I’ll go down with you,” said one of the officers to Gunderman. “You go first.”

  “Keep an eye on him,” said Gunderman to the second officer, nodding toward Ned, as he led the first officer down the stairs. Ned slumped as the uniformed man stood in the basement doorway, his hand resting on his gun. On his belt hung a radio, a baton, a Taser, a flashlight, a set of keys, and a pair of handcuffs.

  Ned felt a surge of adrenaline. He pictured the three policemen herding Warren toward the net. He stared at the handcuffs, soon to be clasped around Luna’s slender wrists. Last night she had curled against him, trembling and gasping for air.

  Right out of the driveway, said Warren. Right again on Pine Lane.

  Ned launched himself forward and caught the waiting officer off guard. As the man reached for the railing, Ned slammed the door shut and slid the deadbolt home. He stopped, horrified at what he’d done, then he rushed from the room.

  Ned burst through the front door, ran to the Ram, and climbed into the driver seat. As he turned the ignition, he saw the two officers in the doorway of the guest house. The sergeant looked up and spotted him.

  You’re just not a team player, Neddo, said a voice in his head.

  “Yes, I am,” he muttered aloud, slamming it into gear. “I just hadn’t found the right team.”

  The big blue truck roared forward. It caught the first police car dead on, spun it in a half-circle, crunched it into the second one, and shoved them both into the woods. Ned stomped on the gas, aiming for the cruiser blocking the end of the driveway. The two officers patrolling on foot looked up in astonishment, then threw themselves into the ditch as the Ram burst onto the paved road and crashed into the cruiser. Ned yanked the wheel to the right and a shot rang out. Glass shattered and tires screamed as he floored it down Route 72.

  In a hundred yards was the small sign for Pine Lane. He skidded around another turn and there was Trish, waving frantically. Behind her were Luna and Angelica, holding Mars’s crate between them. Ned braked, Trish opened the back door, and they slid the crate into the truck.

  “Will you guys be all right?” cried Luna, as she yanked the passenger door open and jumped in.

  “Go! Go!” barked Trish, waving them on like an air-traffic controller.

  “Easy!” gasped Luna, as the truck lurched forward. “This is too much stress for him!”

  “For him?” shouted Ned.

  “Look!” she said, pointing ahead to where Warren was running out of the woods. “Don’t stop, just slow down!”

  She swung the door open, climbed into the back, and Warren lunged into passenger seat as the Ram passed him. He pulled the door shut, then turned to Ned.

  “Good man!” he boomed, and clapped him on the back.

  Chapter 18

  Ropes of bittersweet and Virginia creeper wound around the abandoned gas station, encircling rusted pumps and pushing their way through the roof of the rotting garage. Shepherd’s purse and wild radish adorned three junked sedans. Pigweed rose from a pile of old tires like masts on a beached schooner.

  There were no cars on the small country road. Luna, Ned and Warren stood behind the garage, all regarding the Ram. Both headlights were shattered, the grill smashed, the sides scratched, gouged, and dented; there was a small oval hole in the rear window, surrounded by a series of radial cracks.

  “Thank you!” gasped Luna, incandescent with exhilaration. “Thank you both for being so incredibly awesome!” She threw her arms around Ned and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then planted one on Warren’s. “They’ll never get us!”

  Ned regarded her, baffled. “Pay no attention to her,” said Warren. “It’s the adrenaline.”

  “Do you know what I just did?” Ned demanded, enunciating exaggeratedly as his composure teetered. “I just pushed a police officer down a flight of stairs! I locked him, Gunderman, and another cop in the basement, and then I destroyed three of their cars! I assaulted a police officer, and another one shot his gun at me!”

  “Wow!” cried Luna, and gave him a blinding grin. “Good thing he was a lousy shot!”

  Ned turned on her, eyes blazing. “‘Good thing he was a lousy shot?’” he shouted. “Are you nuts? You’re endangering the lives of all of us, just for that stupid bird?”

  Luna stopped, her eyes wide, then she rushed toward him and thumped him heavily on the chest. “‘Stupid bird?’” she shouted back. “So that’s what you really think? You were supposed to be gone at the Florida border! Why are you still here?”

  “I was supposed to be gone at Warren’s! And I’m still here because — according to you — you’re my tar pit!”

  “All right, break it up!” said Warren, stepping in and pushing them apart. “And would you keep it down?”

  Warren sat in the driver seat, cleaning the mud off his face and arms with a rag and a bottle of water he found under the back seat. Ned slouched on the passenger side, staring angrily into space. Luna pulled the cover from the crate and addressed the eagle in a husky half-whisper. “It’s okay,” she said, sending an unwanted pang through Ned’s heart. “It’ll be all right.” Mars rattled his feathers, the soft slaps audible through the car.

  “So,” said Warren. “One thing we’re not gonna do is drive around town in a hot truck. Forget the next stop — it’s three hours away, we’ll never get there. Gotta figure out a new game plan.”

  Luna rummaged beneath her seat and retrieved a stack of license plates. “We’ve got Missouri, Nebraska, and Michigan,” she read.

  “Oh, make it Michigan!” said Ned. “Then they won’t even notice the rest of the truck!”

  “Warren!” snapped Luna. “Can we just drop this guy off in …”

  “Knock it off!” Warren growled, a threatening rumble that made all sound in the truck cease. “That’s better,” he
continued pleasantly. “I should call Glenn. Maybe he’s got some guys in the area. Blue phone. Grab my readers, too.”

  Luna reached into Warren’s knapsack and retrieved his phone and glasses. “I left my stuff at Trish and Angelica’s,” she muttered, looking pained.

  “Glenn! Wassup, man. Listen — I know I was going to return your truck tonight, but there’s been a snag.”

  “Where’s my truck?” came Glenn’s voice.

  “I’m sitting in it. It just needs a little TLC, which I will give it as fast as humanly possible. Meantime, you know anyone around Rock Ridge, Wisconsin?”

  “You better watch your back,” said Glenn, then there was a heavy click.

  “Huh!” said Warren. “That could’ve gone better.” He rubbed his beard. “Let me give this one a shot.” He scrolled through his phone, pressed a number, and waited. After a few moments, he disconnected and tried again. When there was no answer, he tried another number.

  “Hello?” came a woman’s voice.

  “Hey Ruby, it’s Warren! How you doing? Sal around?”

  “No.”

  “When’s he coming back?”

  “You tell me!” she said belligerently.

  After he hung up, Warren turned to Luna. “What about you?”

  Luna shook her head. Warren turned to Ned. “You?”

  “Oh, sure!” said Ned, roused from his vision of a furious judge pounding a gavel. “All my best friends live in the backwoods of Wisconsin!”

  “I’m not feeling the love in here,” said Warren, peering over his readers.

  “Wait a minute!” said Luna. “What about Stanley?”

  “Who’s Stanley?” asked Ned suspiciously.

  “He’s the turtle guy!” said Luna.

  Ned turned to Warren. “Didn’t you just finish saying no more rehabbers? Gunderman knows we’re going to rehabbers! What about Stanley’s license?”

  “That’s the beauty of Stanley!” said Warren, scrolling. “He hasn’t got one.”

  “As deeper we sink,” Ned muttered, and leaned his head against the window.

  “Stanley! Wassup, man?”