“Beats being a big ol’ meanie,” I said, but it felt nice to argue with Grace. Normal.
Soon Mary, Grace, and I were alone in the basement, the trapdoor secured from above. I sat against the wall and looked down at the circle of blood that had filtered through the white cotton just above the red heart. The shirt now read, “I ♦ Okinawa.” I peeked down the neck hole. The tape had come off on the bottom. Great. My skin was probably too wet.
Grace had gotten her cell phone and shoes from Mary’s backpack, and sat beside me, playing with her phone, which I felt was rubbing it in. If I’d only given mine to Mary … “You have a signal?”
Grace shook her head. “Mary tried to call her dad, but Mr. Sloan said that those guys picked this place to ship out their drugs because it was deserted. We’re in the middle of a park. Your iPhone might have gotten a signal, though, since they’re so awesome. Too bad you lost it.”
I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes. Must not kill the hater. Must not kill—
“You’re going to sleep?” Mary asked.
I looked at her and shrugged one shoulder. “Might as well. We could be here for hours.”
She nodded and curled up into a ball on the floor on my other side, her hands tucked flat under one ear.
I reached over and slapped Mary’s knee. “Hey. You did really good tonight. Thanks for getting me free. You were like a real spy girl.”
“You’re welcome.” She beamed, and it hit me that she was a very cute girl. Gabe was going to have his work cut out for him.
The three of us stayed put, silent. Mary fell asleep, breathing deeply. I got up to use the bathroom. When I came back, Grace shot me a loathing glare, so I purposely sat on Mary’s other side.
“What’s the matter, Spencer? Don’t you like me anymore?” Grace said, glowering at me over Mary’s sleeping form.
“Never did like you Grace,” I said.
“How does it feel?” Grace asked. “To be the object of someone’s cruel prank?”
“Are you confessing?”
“The twins, Spencer. How does it feel to be used?”
I shot her a dirty look, hoping it was my version of the “dark eyes.” “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“You know. Always being angry at me. Cutting me down. Writing ‘fool’ on my back. All that.”
Her nose and forehead scrunched up in angry wrinkles. “Because you’re a jock.”
“Seriously? You hate all athletes then? What’s your problem with sports, Grace? You are a cheerleader. And you said cheerleading was a sport.”
“I’m a cheerleader because I like gymnastics, and that’s the closest Pilot Point High has to the sport. And I have no problem with sports. It’s the players who think they can do whatever they want, who think they own the school and everyone in it. It’s the players I hate.”
“I guess you’ll just have to hate me then.” I really didn’t care anymore. I was tired of riding this weird emotional roller coaster with Grace. A roller coaster I never asked to ride on.
But she glared at me with tears in her eyes, which flashed my mind back to my vision of her hurt. I was such a sap. I sighed heavily, disgusted with the pity I had for her. “You’re going to cry now? Because if anyone should cry it’s me. You’ve been torturing me since I met you.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.
“I just don’t get why you hate me so much just because I play basket—” I sucked in a sharp breath, furious that I hadn’t thought of it until now. Kip and Desh and the guys.
Grace narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“You’re that cheerleader! The one Desh messed with at the Rock Academy tournament?”
Grace’s bottom lip trembled. Then she buried her face in her hands and a loud wail burst out of her.
Between us, Mary groaned and rolled onto her back.
Wowzers. How had I missed that one? “Grace, I’m sorry. I
swear I didn’t know.”
“Sure you didn’t. You were all there.”
“I wasn’t there! I was sleeping. They asked me to go but I said no. I didn’t want to get in trouble.” I got up and moved over to Grace, squatted in front of her. “Hey, I’m sorry that happened. I really am. Those guys are lousy. They’re—”
“They’re your best friends. Arianna told me.”
“Yeah, but … I-I’m not like that.” I mean, I might have been a total moron sometimes, but there were levels of moron. And I wasn’t that low. “I wasn’t even there that night. I was sleeping. I swear.”
She glared at me.
“Look, I’ll tell you my side of it, okay? I was beat. I’d sprained my fingers bad in the game, and we had another game the next morning. I wanted to make all-star for the tournament, so I went to bed. Kip woke me up and told me they were going to hang with the girls, but I went back to sleep. Next thing I knew, Coach was screaming at us to get up. We had to run lines for an hour in the middle of the night. And I didn’t find out what happened until the next day. Ask Arianna. I told her all about it.”
Grace looked at her hands, her dark lashes nearly closed. “He scared me.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “What he did.”
I grimaced. “Desh … He’s a creep.”
Her face hardened. “Why didn’t you tell him so?”
“You think he listens to me?”
She punched me in the arm.
“Ow!” I cringed, overacting. “That’s my bad arm, Grace!”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, I’m sorry!”
I grinned. “Gocha.”
She punched me again. “Jerk.” She sat silent for a long moment, then sighed. “I just assumed you were with them.”
“I wasn’t.”
She looked at her hands, and I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted to convince her that I was telling the truth, but I was afraid to say anything else.
She peeked at me, then, without lifting her head. “Can we start over?”
“Yes. That would be perfect.”
Grace smiled then, a wide, beautiful smile that lit up her whole face. She extended her hand. “Hi. My name is Grace Thomas.”
“I’m Spencer Garmond.” I shook her hand, and she squeezed. “That’s some grip you got there.” I squeezed harder.
“There’s one thing you should know about me if we’re going to be friends,” Grace said, adding a second hand to the squeezing war she’d started.
“What’s that?”
Her face turned red as she tried—and failed—to crush my fingers together. “I don’t like to lose.”
“What a coincidence.” I squeezed so hard that Grace shrieked and rolled onto her side, giggling. “I don’t either.”
● ● ●
A crash jolted me awake. I looked around the basement, heart racing.
A thud upstairs. A man yelled. Silence.
I shook Grace awake and held my fingers to her lips. Footsteps overhead. I woke Mary in the same way and dragged both girls to the stairs and tucked them underneath, in case someone opened the trapdoor and looked down. There wasn’t enough room for me to hide under the stairs too. “Stay there,” I mouthed, then slipped across to the bathroom and watched through the crack behind the door.
At the top of the stairs, the trapdoor creaked open. A figure dressed in black crept down the stairs and out of my line of sight. I held my breath, hoping not to make a sound.
I shifted but still couldn’t see the intruder. The bathroom door swung back a hair, and a silhouette darkened the wall above the toilet. I shrank back. A foot appeared. I grabbed the door and smashed it into the person on the other side. A heavy grunt. Stumbling.
I darted out of the bathroom and attacked my stunned opponent with an elbow to the gut. The figure crumpled, and I easily subdued him in a headlock on the floor. He was wearing black and a ski mask.
“Tiger …” a familiar voice croaked.
“Beth?” I released her and pulled off her mask. “What are you doing?”
She snatched back the mask and massaged her neck. She was wearing fingerless black leather gloves. “I came to warn you. They’re coming …” She wheezed. “They followed you to base … Decoys didn’t take.”
“What do we—”
She grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the stairs. “We have to go! Now!”
“Mr. Sloan said to wait for him.”
Beth’s eyes pleaded. “I’ve been following Bushi. Mr. Sloan doesn’t know that the agent upstairs is on Bushi’s side. Come on!” Beth sped up the stairs.
“Grace, Mair, let’s go.” I beckoned the girls out from under the stairs.
Beth froze halfway up the stairs as the girls came to stand beside me. “I thought it was just you.”
“I thought you were in a hurry?” I said.
Beth shot me a nasty glare and disappeared through the trapdoor. We climbed back into the main room. Beth closed the trapdoor and covered it with the rug. The Japanese agent lay slumped on the kitchen floor.
I pointed at the guy. “Did you do that?”
Beth shrugged. “He’s just knocked out.”
Japanese voices drifted from outside. Footsteps thudded on the porch.
“Quick!” Beth urged us past the hearth and into the front corner of the room. We pressed up against the wall, Beth closest to the door, then me, then Grace, then Mary.
What looked like two masked ninjas crept inside and went straight for the trapdoor. The first pulled it open and went down. The second followed. Beth rushed up behind them, shut the trapdoor, and latched it. A moment later someone below started pounding on the trapdoor.
“Nice,” I said to Beth.
“You okay?” She pointed to my blood-stained shorts.
I nodded, feeling suddenly like the smallest person in the room. “Hey, Beth. You were right about a lot of stuff. Keiko and Kozue were bad news.”
“Keiko and Bushi have been dating for three years,” Beth said. “He was jealous that she was cozying up to you—probably why he creamed you instead of grabbing you like he was supposed to. His dumb ego likely saved your hide.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go.”
I sandwiched Mary and Grace between us and followed Beth toward the door. But before we reached it, it swung open.
Bushi stood there holding a sheathed katana sword. He pulled it from its sheath, and the eerie sound of steel sliding against wood made me shiver. He held the long, gleaming blade in his grip, pointed right at me.
REPORT NUMBER: 25
REPORT TITLE: I Fight a Samurai Warrior and Live to Tell the Tale
SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond
LOCATION: Japanese house near Suicide Cliffs, Okinawa, Japan
DATE AND TIME: Sunday night/Monday morning, July 12/13, time unknown
I PULLED GRACE AND MARY BEHIND ME and picked up the kettle from the hearth. “Grace, take Mary and get in the corner.” I held the kettle out like a shield. The lid popped off, and a gush of tepid water ran down my arm.
Bushi chuckled. “You all wet, Supensa-san. Where you put Keiko and Kozue?”
Ah, so that’s who those masked ninjas were. “Don’t worry about them,” I said. “They’ll be safe in prison.”
“Ee-ah!” Bushi cut the blade toward me, and it clanged against the kettle, jarring my teeth.
“Hey!” Beth kicked the back of Bushi’s knee. “You’re going to kill someone with that thing.”
Bushi’s legs buckled, but he caught himself in a low crouch. “Not kill, Besu-san. Only let bleed.” He jabbed the sword forward again, and I blocked it with the kettle. “Anya make bleed. Now Bushi make bleed. Hoo-ee!” He thrust the sword out, slashed it sideways. I jumped back.
Beth jumped forward and kicked Bushi’s leg again. This time when Bushi caught himself, he sliced the sword at Beth, who pulled out the desk chair and used it as a shield. The sword cut deep into the bamboo.
I hurled the kettle at Bushi. It hit his head and clattered to the floor.
Bushi gave his head a quick shake. He wrenched his blade free from the chair and sidled back toward me, leering. “Nice trying, Supensa-san. I am karate expert. Body like steel.”
I knew that from personal experience.
Beth came at Bushi from the back, using the chair as her sword/shield. Bushi swung the sword her way again, and she backed up. I pitched the saucers and teacups from the hearth at Bushi one at a time. Some hit my target, others Bushi shattered with the katana blade, uttering a cry with each swipe.
Those samurai cries made him twice as intimidating.
I ran out of tea cups and tossed a few cushions, which Bushi easily deflected. Beth got in another kick to his back that made him turn the sword on her for a few swipes, so I picked up the grill from the hearth and held the heavy iron out in front. Bushi wheeled back to me and dragged the tip over the metal grate. Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack. He smiled wide, then attacked.
The grill stopped all his blows until he slid the blade through the bars and pricked my shoulder. I leapt back and twisted the grill, wrenching the blade, and with it, Bushi. He twisted with his sword but lost his grip on the weapon and his footing.
Yes! Please fall.
But instead of falling, he spun around and kicked the grill. I fell on my rear, and the grill landed on my chest, sending a bolt of pain through my cut and smearing my white shirt with charcoal.
Beth kicked in the backs of Bushi’s knees yet again. He buckled but turned it into a breakfall and bounced right back up like some kind of roly poly toy. Beth came at him, fast. And soon Bushi and Beth were dueling with arms, fists, and feet.
And that ended my visions about Japan.
I pushed the grill off me. Something moved on my left. Mary, out in the middle of the room, picking up the sword.
“Into the corner, Mair.”
Mary took hold of the weapon and scurried back to Grace.
“Ee-ah!”
Snap! A strangled cry. I whipped around. Beth lay on the floor clutching her leg. Bushi stood over her in the pose of a guy who’d just broken some boards.
Maniac! I vaulted the fireplace and tackled Bushi. We rolled for a moment, grappling on the tatami floor. By some miracle, I landed on top. Bushi wrapped his legs around my waist. True, I was in his guard, but I had the leverage, the power, and I was ready to use it.
“Jujitsu for the streets, rule number one, Bushi. Don’t ever get your back on the ground.”
I grabbed Bushi’s shoulders and slammed him into the floor. Bushi gasped for air. I picked him up and slammed him again. Bushi’s eyes rolled back. I slammed him again, and he lay still. “Grace! Unlatch the trapdoor. Mary, be ready with that sword in case those other two try and come out.” I dragged Bushi toward the trapdoor.
The moment Grace pulled it open, one of the twins tried to come up. But Mary held the sword over the hole, and I pushed Bushi’s body down the stairs. Keiko/Kozue—whichever one it was—reached for him and—
Grace slammed the door and latched it.
I breathed out a long sigh, glad that was over.
“Tiger!” Beth’s voice was tight with pain. I ran and crouched beside her. “I think he broke my leg. Can you carry me piggyback?”
“Of course.” A fire burst in my chest knowing that Bushi had hurt Beth the same way he’d tried to hurt me. I helped her sit, then turned my back to her. “Grace, Mair, get outside.”
Beth wrapped her arms around my neck. “I’m just going to let my left leg hang, okay? Don’t try to grab it.”
“Gocha.” I stood and heaved Beth up onto my back. It was awkward to only hold her right leg, but I managed to get her settled.
I carried her outside and found the girls waiting on the porch. Grace had her cell phone out, as if the pale screen was any match for the moon. The thick tropical forest spread out before us, lit by the moonlight filtering through the trees and glistening off the tops of leaves.
Beautiful, amazing moon. I didn’t want to think about h
ow dark it would have been without it.
“Which way?” Mary asked, still holding Bushi’s samurai sword.
“Back toward the water.” I descended the porch to the left and started down the path Mr. Sloan had brought us up. The moonlight lit the path enough for me to see. I could do this.
“No, go the other way,” Beth said. “There’s a boat waiting at the bottom of Suicide Cliffs and gear to rappel.”
Rappel? Down Suicide Cliffs? Talk about a foreboding destination. “How are we supposed to rappel with you hurt?”
“Worry about that when we get there,” Beth said.
I would have liked to have worried about it then, or at least made some kind of a plan. Instead, I listened to Beth and turned around. We passed the house, and the jungle seemed thicker this way. Darker. Waist-high grass and ferns made the trail even harder to see.
The path curved through a cluster of mangrove trees, which completely blocked the moonlight. I slowed, squinting as I weaved around the trees.
Behind me, a girl screamed.
“Spencer!” Grace yelled. “Mary is gone.”
I whirled around. Grace’s face was lit with the bluish glow of her cell phone.
“Mair?” I yelled. “Look for her, Grace. Maybe she fell, twisted her ankle or—”
“Spencer! Again I have found your little friend.” Anya’s voice came from behind Grace, back toward the cabin.
“I’m sorry, Spencer!” Mary screamed from somewhere in the darkness.
Mother pus bucket!
“I know how much this one means to you,” Anya said. Flashlights came on suddenly in the distance, maybe fifteen yards away, obscured by the jungle vegetation. “Come to me, and we will reunite you.”
I ground my teeth. Beth’s breath was hot in my ear. My chest stung. My legs, abs, and feet ached. So did my head. I wanted to go home—America home.
“This girl has found Bushi’s lovely sword,” Anya yelled. “But you’ve already seen it, haven’t you?”
Mary screamed so loudly I could hear her pain.
“Okay!” I yelled. “I’m coming. Don’t hurt her.”
“Tiger, you can’t!” Beth said.
“Well, I can’t leave her.” I crouched to let Beth off my back. “Stay here with Grace. Pray.” Hopefully God answered Beth’s prayers better than He answered mine.
Project Gemini (Mission 2 Page 25