Red Shirt Kids

by Bryce Clark

  Ben stopped at the edge of a creek. He looked down at the map in his hands, illuminated by the moonlight that streamed through the clouds and cast an eerie glow on the town. Taking a mental picture, he folded up the map and tucked it into his back pocket. Ben took three steps back and prepared to jump as far as he could over the creek.

  “Where are you going?” asked Kathy.

  Ben kept his eyes on the creek. “To find your kids.”

  Ben took off running toward the stream. He planted his foot and then jumped, sailing high into the air and clearing the stream by twenty feet. He landed with a thud and fell on one knee to regain his balance. “Whoa!” Ben looked behind at Laura, David, and Kathy, who were now tiny specks across the stream.

  Ben turned and ran into the forest, a wide grin spreading across his face. Each step propelled him ten feet through the air. He gained speed with every step and soon became a glimmering red blur.

  34

  BEN FLEW THROUGH the forest, streaking past trees. He had never felt so free. He bounded up to the remains of Francis’s destroyed home and looked around but saw no sign of the other kids.

  Ben kicked the dirt, frustrated. He was sure this was the place they were going. He looked down and saw little drops of glowing amber glistening in the moonlight. They formed a trail leading into the thick, dense foliage. Ben took a deep breath and ran.

  Sam helped Diane to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I—I think so,” said Diane, still disoriented.

  Darren pulled off a small antenna from his red shirt, which had been stuck to the shirt by the amber. He reached over and pulled off Diane’s, as well. They were now free from Francis’s machine.

  Sam’s sweatshirt floated in the air, and suddenly Mike appeared wearing it. “Amy!”

  “Get me down!” yelled Amy.

  “Can you get her down?” Mike asked Sam.

  “I can’t reach her.”

  Diane stepped forward. “Yes, you can,” she said.

  Diane raised her hands, and Sam began to levitate off the ground. “Whoa,” said Sam, his arms stretched out for balance.

  He floated up to Amy. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked with a grin.

  Amy smiled despite herself. “You know, just hanging around.”

  Mike gagged dramatically. “Sam, get her down fast. I think she’s cracked.”

  Sam gingerly pulled the amber from Amy’s legs. This time, it didn’t stick but fell away like limp lettuce. Sam grabbed the amber around Amy’s arms. “Put your arms around my neck when I get this stuff off,” Sam said to Amy. “So you don’t fall,” he added quickly.

  Amy nodded, and Sam ripped away the amber that was trapping her arms. Amy fell into Sam and wrapped her arms around his neck. Their faces were almost touching. Sam’s neck felt hot. “I’ve go-got her,” stammered Sam.

  Diane lowered her hands, and Sam and Amy floated gently to the ground. Amy held onto Sam’s neck for a moment longer. “Thank you,” Amy whispered. She stood on her tiptoes and pecked Sam quickly on the cheek.

  “Yes!” Sam yelled, as he highfived Darren and everyone erupted into giggles. It was Amy’s turn to blush.

  The celebration was erupted by an almost inhuman scream. “Nooooo!” Francis writhed on the ground as he came to.

  Francis glared at Sam and focused his eyes, but nothing happened. Francis tried it again—nothing.

  Darren cocked his head and stared. “Something not working?” He asked sardonically. Darren smiled then fired a concentrated stream of red heat from his eyes. It blasted into Francis and knocked him out of the room into the outer chamber.

  Ben bounded to the base of a gigantic spruce tree where the trail of amber went cold. He walked slowly around the tree, his hand fingering the bark, searching for amber. Suddenly, he heard a sound from inside. It sounded like yelling. “It can’t be,” Ben whispered. But then he heard it again—it was definitely yelling. He pushed against the tree with all of his strength and scanned the tree, trying to find any way in.

  “Maybe the opening is somewhere else,” he thought. He walked into a nearby gathering of brush, pushing branches and leaves aside, and saw a huge rosebush that looked out of place. He tried to move it but cut his hand on its thorns. Recoiling in pain, he shook out his hand and inspected the bush. He found a thorn-free section and pulled the rosebush aside. Hidden behind the rosebush was a wooden door.

  35

  FRANCIS LAY ON the floor of the outer chamber. The chandelier’s strobe-like explosions continued, as sparks rained down upon him. Amy, Sam, Mike, Darren, and Diane stared at Francis. “Is he dead?” Amy whispered. Darren shook his head.

  “Nah, I didn’t hurt him—just got him out of the way.”

  “He looks dead,” Sam said matter-of-factly.

  Mike bent down to get a better look. Suddenly, an amber stream torpedoed from Francis’s bony finger and encircled Mike’s neck.

  “Help me!” Mike choked.

  Francis sprang to his feet and pulled Mike toward him, the amber noose tightening around his neck.

  “Stay back or I’ll strangle him,” Francis warned.

  The chandelier’s exploding lights cast eerie shadows, making the expression on Francis’s scarred face even more horrific.

  Sam looked down and saw a huge chunk of the doorway that Francis had blasted apart. He caught Amy’s eye and looked at the ceiling. She nodded in understanding.

  Amy dove to the ground and tried to kick Francis’s legs out from under him. Francis grabbed Amy’s shirt and lifted her up with one hand. Malice glowed in his eyes. Sam picked up the doorway and flung it at the chandelier with all of his strength. The lights exploded, sending fire that hurtled toward the ground. The antenna on Francis’s shirt glowed red hot, and he screamed, dropping Amy. The amber noose around Mike’s neck loosened, and Mike retreated behind his very strong friend. Francis yanked the antenna off his shirt and stared at the five Red Shirt Kids, poised to fight. He screamed in frustration and stumbled to the wall. Molten amber dripped from his fingertips as he placed his hand on the wall and a wound-like hole opened, giving the children a glimpse into another chamber alight with fire.

  “What in the world …” Mike’s voice trailed off as he and the others watched Francis slide into the hole.

  “This isn’t over,” Francis cackled. “I’ll be seeing you all again. Very soon.” The hole closed with a great sucking sound. Another huge explosion rocked the chamber, hurtling the movie marquee to the chamber floor and blocking the entryway.

  “Look out!” Mike shouted as Amy jumped away just in time.

  “We need to get out of here!” shouted Darren.

  “How?” Diane shouted back. “The entryway is blocked.” Sparks fell like hailstones as they ducked for cover. The chamber rumbled again, and the stairs to the second floor crumbled. “And there goes our chance to use another door.”

  The group watched the scene before them with heavy hearts. Lights exploding, sparks flying, amber burning, and escape routes crumbling before their eyes left them little hope for survival.

  “After all this way,” Amy sighed softly.

  “Hey, don’t give up,” Sam chided. “There’s got to be a way out.”

  Suddenly, a doorway on the second level opened, and Ben stepped inside. He jumped from the second landing to the ground, sailing through the air gracefully before landing on the main floor. His red shirt shimmered.

  Ben’s eyes widened as he stared at Diane and Darren. “You guys are okay!”

  Diane and Darren just stared back at Ben.

  “Ben?” asked Mike. “I didn’t know you—”

  “Come on,” Ben said. “This place is about to implode. There’s no time to talk.”

  “Wha—” Mike began.

  “I’m very, very fast,” he said. “And lucky for you, I can jump. Come on!”

  One by one, the Red Shirt Kids jumped on Ben’s back, piggyback style. Ben bounded up to the second-floor landing with each one, sailing throug
h the air as easily as if he were walking.

  “Kid can jump,” Darren nodded, impressed.

  The chamber’s rumbling increased as Ben jumped for the last time to the landing. Sam looked slightly queasy as he climbed off Ben’s back.

  “Dude, you’re solid,” Ben bent over, wheezing.

  Amy watched the lights shaking ferociously. “We’d better get out of here!” she yelled over the din of the collapsing tree. “Come on!”

  With Ben leading the way, the group of five ran through the tunnel toward the pinpoint of light. The incline was steep, but they could feel their strength increasing with each step.

  “Hurry!” Sam yelled, bringing up the rear. The heat behind him was intensifying, and he could see fire licking the sides of the tunnel behind him.

  “Everyone, hold hands!” Ben yelled as he took Amy and Diane’s hands in his. With every last ounce of his strength, Ben pulled and ran as fast as he could.

  The team of six tumbled out of the passageway and ran for cover as a backdraft shot through the tunnel and out into the forest night. The tree shuddered and exploded as fire and electricity ignited the branches and shot high into the air. Ben, Mike, Amy, Diane, Darren, and Sam collapsed onto the wet, cold ground.

  36

  POLICE SIRENS RANG out along Shayler Lane. The front door of Diane and Darren’s house opened, and Frank and Sarah, Diane and Darren’s parents, stepped outside in their pajamas, rubbing sleep from their eyes. They stared ahead as four police cars rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of their house. Sarah fell to her knees, fearing the worst. Frank put his hand on her shoulder. Neighbors opened their doors and walked outside, congregating in small groups. Ben’s father stood silently in front of his house, watching the commotion. One of the police car doors opened, and Darren and Diane rushed out of the car and headed for their parents. Frank’s mouth hung open in shock, and Sarah’s tears flowed freely, as Diane and Darren tumbled into their mother’s embrace. Frank dropped to his knees, and his large arms encircled them all. Other police car doors opened, and Mike, Sam, Amy, Ben, Laura, Kathy, and David stepped out. Ben’s father rushed to Ben’s side but then stopped hesitantly. Ben looked up at his father, whose eyes were brimming with worry.

  “Are you all right?” Ben’s father asked.

  Ben nodded, and his father put an arm tentatively around him. Ben leaned into his dad for the first time in years.

  “I was, um, worried about you,” said Ben’s father, trying to hold back his tears.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” said Ben. “Let’s go home. I just need to do one thing first.”

  Ben strode over to Mike, reached into his pocket for the voice distortion toy, and placed it in Mike’s hand. Mike looked down at the toy, then back at Ben, and offered a sheepish smile.

  Sam’s grandma was watching the news in her hospital room. The news reporter on the scene in front of Diane and Darren’s home was talking into a microphone.

  “This, folks, is just amazing. After several months of searching, the children have been reunited with their family. Details have yet to be released, but talk concerns Francis Mayfield, a descendant of the Falton family thought to have died in a fire that consumed his house years ago.”

  The television showed viewers a picture of Francis before he was burned. Grandma stared at the image, and a lone tear dropped from her eye. The glimmer of her red shirt peeked out beneath the fabric of her robe.

  37

  DAVID CREPT INTO the kitchen. He opened the fridge and looked around stealthily. He took out a slice of chocolate cake.

  “Busted,” said Mike’s voice.

  David dropped the cake to the floor in his surprise.

  The lights flicked on, and a flannel shirt floated in the air. Mike suddenly appeared wearing it.

  David shook his head and then laughed as Laura and Amy walked into the kitchen.

  “It was you, David?” asked Laura.

  “It wasn’t just me,” David protested.

  Mike grinned. “It was mostly me, but I knew I hadn’t taken that many pieces!”

  Laura smiled softly then straightened. “Well, come on. Let’s all get some sleep,” she said briskly.

  “The police really believe that we just found Darren and Diane wandering in the forest?” asked Mike.

  “When we called them, we decided to leave out the part about the red shirts,” Laura smiled knowingly. “If that’s okay with you. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about your, um, talents tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” Amy stopped in her tracks. “Does that mean you want us to use them?”

  Laura looked at David. David shrugged. “Maybe. Just look at what you were able to do,” said Laura.

  “We helped bring them home,” said Mike. He glanced at Amy, who nodded and smiled.

  “But there have got to be some rules,” insisted Laura.

  Amy and Mike looked at each other and laughed. “We know!”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A WRITER SITS alone at work, but his journey is never a solo job. I couldn’t have written this book without the support of many people. I have to start with my father, who came up with the Red Shirt Kids stories when I was a kid. Along with my mom, he always supported my dream to be a writer. I hit the jackpot in the parent lottery. My wife, Steph, has also been incredibly helpful—often shaking her head as she watched me stare off into the distance, lost in my stories—always encouraging me to keep going, to keep trying. I shaped the story for this book when I began telling my kids the same Red Shirt Kids tales that my father had told me. They were great listeners and enthusiastic participants, especially my three oldest, Spenser, Maddy, and Parker.

  My siblings, Erin, Jonathan, Andrew, Michael, Jennifer, and Julia, are co-conspirators as the original Red Shirt Kids audience. They’ve all been hugely supportive. My brother Mike and his wife, Hannah, author of the book Cobbogoth, read the book and helped me get it into better shape. Their backing was crucial. I also have to give a special thanks to Jonathan, his wife, Deborah, and their son, my nephew, Isaac. They introduced Isaac to an early draft of this book, and Isaac’s continued enthusiasm motivated me to keep trying—and helped me believe that maybe I could actually do this. Thanks, buddy.

  I was very fortunate to get the book into the hands of Amy Cook of Sourced Media Books. Her support and enthusiasm helped carry this book into publication. She also edited the book, and her talents have helped make the book a better read. My business partners, Justin Lyon, Richard Bennett, and Jason deVilliers, have also been great allies. Justin was the one who got the book to Amy, and he’s been there every step of the way helping me prepare for publication. Rich and his wife, Amber, read the manuscript, and their support was great. Rich and Glen Edelstein also designed the cover for the book, which I love. My sometimes collaborator on screenplays, Gabe Martinez, read the book and said, “Dude, this is like an actual book.” That was great.

  Finally, I began writing stories (in screenplay form) over eighteen years ago. I’ve lived the Malcolm Gladwell adage of 10,000 hours—except, in my case, it was more like 15,000. Along the way, I had many points where I almost gave it up; but, I got support and advice from many people who helped me keep going, who gave me enough encouragement to hold onto this dream of being a professional writer. It may have just been a brief sentence of encouragement, but when you’re an unproven writer, those small sentences are manna from heaven. Each of the following helped in some way to keep me on the writer’s journey: Ethan Vogt, Mark Schmitt, Joe O’Donnell, Lew Hunter, John Whittington, John Davis, Ken Lipper, Bill Block, Bret Wunderli, James Huntsman, Brad Williams, Jason Ipson, Jaime Burke, Cathy Tarr, Danielle Sterling, Sandy Climan, Eric Young, Ben Banks, Phil Tuckett, Ben Braten, Brad Thomas, Amelia Lyon, Kelly deVilliers, Matt Funk, Brian Bradford, George McPhee, Marci McPhee, Krista Iverson, Mitch Ashby, Colby and Shana Ashby, Jake Moffat, Bruno Tremblay, Manda Salls, Travis Ashby, Carla Tishler, Glenn Beck, Wendy Guild Swearingen, Chris Saul, Mischa Barton, Cyle West, Alex Beh, Kim H
uffman, Melora Hardin, Jory Cordy, Bob Gay, Dave Owen, Zach Thomson, Paul Garner, James Clarke, Amy Sobo, Jane Sobo, Jonathan Braun, Dave Braun, Kelly Crabb, and many, many others. Thank you for your support and for keeping the Red Shirt Kids dream alive.