It Happened on a Train

by Mac Barnett

  “What?” Claire said.

  “Wooden Horse, take two,” Steve said. “They’re going to steal the Phoebus right now. That’s our ticket out.”

  “I’m not getting in the trunk of a car,” Claire said.

  “Not the trunk. The backseat. Come on.” The men were pushing the second Phoebus down the ramp.

  Steve led the way as they raced across the warehouse floor, keeping to the shadows. They reached the car. The lamps came on. Yellow light flooded the room.

  “Hurry,” Steve whispered. He gently opened the driver-side door. It clicked softly. Dana got in first, then Claire. They disappeared under the white cloth in the backseat. Steve got in last. Softly shutting the door behind him, he pulled the sheet over his head.

  They all made themselves as small as they could, packed into the backseat of the Packard. Steve slid his arms under the driver’s seat. Claire did too. It was hot under the sheet, and hard to breathe, but something smelled like watermelons. Steve figured it was Claire.

  Steve listened to the men’s voices, to loud thuds and occasional clangs. They lay huddled there awhile. Steve’s legs began cramping. He wondered whether he was right—were these men not going to steal the Phoebus after all? Claire fidgeted a bit next to him. Steve elbowed her to tell her not to move. She elbowed him back. Annoying.

  The driver’s door opened. Steve froze. He felt Claire tense next to him. Someone sat in the driver’s seat—the cushion sagged, and Steve felt the weight against his forearms. He did not move.

  The Phoebus started. Its tires squeaked on the cement floor. They were moving.

  CHAPTER LXIII

  STOWAWAYS

  THEY DROVE FOR A WHILE on what felt like winding roads. Steve was thrown against Claire, then Claire against Steve. Steve couldn’t decide whether he’d rather be next to Claire or have more room, like Dana. They drove for more than twenty-five minutes before the car’s horn honked twice and stopped. The engine was still running. There was the sound of a large metal door opening, and the car drove inside a building.

  The car stopped. The engine died. The driver exited the Packard. There was the sound of receding footsteps, and then of the big door clanging shut.

  All was quiet. Still Steve didn’t move. Neither did anyone else.

  For ten minutes they lay huddled in the backseat of the Phoebus. Then Steve whispered, “Okay.”

  They tore the sheet off themselves. Steve took a deep breath of cool air. He looked around.

  “Déjà vu,” Dana said.

  They were in a small warehouse surrounded by six beautiful old cars. At first the setup seemed almost identical to the last building, but there were differences. The upper halves of three of the walls here were large glass windows. Through them Steve could see palm fronds blowing softly in a breeze. There was another difference that boosted Steve’s heart rate: In addition to a metal loading door, there was a regular wooden door on the windowless wall.

  “Come on,” said Steve. He dashed toward the door. They would have to risk setting out on foot.

  Steve, Claire, and Dana gathered in front of the door.

  “Wait. What’s going on?” Claire asked. “What is this place?”

  “Someone has been stealing Mrs. Vanderdraak’s cars and replacing them with fakes. This is where the real ones are.”

  “Why? Who would do that?” Claire asked.

  Steve grabbed the door handle. He turned and smiled at Claire. “Who do you think? Mr. Vander-draak.”

  “Why?” Dana asked.

  Steve sighed. “I’ll explain later. We’ve got to get out of here first.”

  He opened the door.

  They were bathed in the high beams of a car parked just outside.

  “Well, well, well,” said Mr. Vanderdraak.

  CHAPTER LXIV

  TROUBLE ON THE BEACH

  “THIS IS PERFECT TIMING, ISN’T IT, CHUY?”

  The two men got out of the car. Steve squinted. It appeared to be a lime-green dune buggy.

  “I was just coming by to see the latest addition to my collection. Chuy, you didn’t tell me we had guests.”

  “I didn’t know they were here, jefe,” Chuy said, surprised. Steve shielded his eyes with his hands—he wanted to see Chuy’s face.

  “Here,” said Mr. Vanderdraak, leaning into the buggy and turning off the headlights. “That’s better.”

  In the moonlight Steve saw that they had exited onto a beach. The buggy was parked on a sandy road that curved and ran uphill to their left. On their right the surf broke gently on the shore.

  “Now, children, it’s delightful to see you again.”

  “Don’t play nice, Mr. Vanderdraak,” said Steve. “We know what you’re up to.”

  “We do?” Dana said.

  Mr. Vanderdraak laughed. “What am I up to?”

  “You know your wife has been stealing your cars, so you’re stealing them back.”

  Mr. Vanderdraak’s smile disappeared. “Well, I guess you do know what I’m up to.”

  “That’s right,” Dana said.

  “But here’s what I don’t get,” Steve said. “Why go through all this trouble? Why not just report your wife to the police?”

  “Then she’d go to jail,” Mr. Vanderdraak said.

  “And the insurance money,” Claire said.

  “What?” Steve asked.

  “The insurance company made him hire my uncle,” Claire said. “He’s basically getting these cars for free.”

  Mr. Vanderdraak smiled. “A clever girl,” he said.

  “So you don’t care about your wife going to jail at all,” Dana said.

  “Oh no. I do care. That wouldn’t be any fun,” said Mr. Vanderdraak.

  “Fun?” said Steve.

  “Oh, yes. Fun: Alice thinks she has one up on me, but of course I have one up on her. She doesn’t realize that Chuy came to me as soon as she proposed he steal my Shelby. And so I hatched this plan: I had Chuy make a replica of the car—he’s very good with bodywork—and we swapped the real thing for an ersatz version. You should have seen her when she pretended to console me: I could see she was just reveling in outsmarting me. I’ll admit, it was hard pretending to be maudlin when I was enjoying myself so much. You have no idea how fun it is, watching her think she has everything figured out. That’s why I invited you onto the Medea—to watch her squirm while her perfect plan was disrupted.”

  “But you guys are crazy,” Claire said. “I mean, what if she figures out you’re stealing the cars back from her?”

  “Oh no,” said Mr. Vanderdraak. “She doesn’t have any idea where this warehouse is. Our estate is huge.”

  “But that’s exactly what she said about her warehouse, and you!” said Claire. “This could go on forever.”

  Mr. Vanderdraak looked momentarily concerned. “Hmm,” he said. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I really don’t see why you two don’t just talk about these cars,” Steve said.

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you, Steve?” Mr. Vanderdraak asked.

  “He hasn’t,” Dana said.

  “Why does everyone keep saying that? I think I have a good point!”

  “Me too,” Claire muttered.

  “I mean, wouldn’t that be better than committing all these crimes?”

  “Crimes?” said Mr. Vanderdraak. “What crimes? My wife and I both own the cars. We’re just moving our property back and forth across the estate.”

  “What crimes? Are you joking me?” Steve said. “Insurance fraud. Framing Claire’s uncle. Trying to burn me in the sauna. Assault with a lead pipe. Kidnapping two kids. All of you are going to jail.”

  “Two kids?” asked Mr. Vanderdraak. “There are three of you.”

  “Yeah, your wife only kidnapped Steve and Claire,” Dana said. “I snuck down here.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Vanderdraak, “we’ll have to make it three now. Chuy, you grab the boys.”

  CHAPTER LXV

  SEASIDE SET-TO
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br />   WHAT HAPPENED NEXT HAPPENED FAST.

  Mr. Vanderdraak lunged for Claire, who reached up and grabbed him by the ears. She pulled down hard. Vanderdraak howled. As he doubled over, Claire kneed him hard in the solar plexus.

  Steve watched, captivated, and so forgot about Chuy until the big man was lifting him off the ground. His arms pinned in Chuy’s bear hug, Steve kicked—mightily, but pointlessly.

  But then Chuy stumbled, and now Dana was on his back, grabbing a handful of Chuy’s hair. Chuy shouted, and Steve didn’t need to know Spanish to know Chuy was not happy. Steve kept kicking and wriggling like a caught salmon. Dana dug his knees into Chuy’s side. The mechanic stumbled for what seemed like yards, reaching back to swat at Dana with his left hand. Steve struggled but still could not get free.

  And then Claire was there, below Steve, pulling on Chuy’s right arm.

  “Stop kicking for a second, Steve!” she said.

  She grabbed Steve’s legs and yanked down on them hard. Steve felt his knees pop; then, freed from the man’s grasp, he fell a few feet, face-first into sand.

  Chuy, with both arms free now, reached for Dana. Steve pushed himself up and, teeth grinding on sand, kicked him in the shin. Chuy swiped at Steve, who dove for the ground, and Dana took the opportunity to spring off Chuy’s back.

  Steve watched his chum take off down the sand. Chuy looked down at Steve and then turned to chase Dana instead.

  Steve rolled over, relieved, and turned to see Mr. Vanderdraak coming up behind Claire. He reached with his right hand, digging his fingers deep into the beach, and flung a fistful of sand up at Vanderdraak’s face.

  Claire saw the sand coming and started to duck, but it was no use. The sand spread everywhere as it flew through the air, and a lot of it ended up in Claire’s face. Steve felt bad about that, but Mr. Vanderdraak was reeling backward, wiping his eyes. Steve stood up, ready to charge him.

  And then there was a terrible noise, an explosion, and the sound of shattering glass.

  CHAPTER LXVI

  DESTRUCTO

  STEVE BRIXTON LOOKED UP from where he lay on the beach, his hands still covering his head.

  Through the glass walls of the warehouse he saw orange and black flames licking at the building’s ceiling. The whole thing flickered. The smell of gasoline was all around, and Steve’s throat burned.

  Mr. Vanderdraak stood facing the warehouse, stunned, slowly rubbing at his eyes with his right hand.

  Chuy came running up the beach behind Steve. Steve watched him throw the door to the warehouse open, disappear inside, and then come out, seconds later, coughing.

  “She burned them!” he shouted. “She blew them up.” He dropped to his knees, coughed some more, and shook his head. “Estos maridos están locos,” he said.

  Mr. Vanderdraak still stood there.

  Then Dana was pulling on Steve.

  “Come on, come on,” he said. “Let’s go. Before they remember we’re here.”

  Steve felt like he was just waking up. He stumbled to his feet. Claire was there beside him too. He shook his head to clear it.

  “Follow me,” Steve said. He flew off in a straight line toward the ocean, stopping when a wave broke over his ankles. “Stay in the water,” he told Claire and Dana. “It will hide our footprints.”

  Now, north or south? Steve’s first instinct was to go north, toward California. But then that’s probably exactly what they’d expect him to do. So south. Unless they figured he’d know they’d think he’d go north. In which case he should go south. Unless …

  Steve felt like his brain was folding in on itself. He was thinking like the Vanderdraaks. He needed to make a decision. To trust his gut.

  South.

  “This way,” he said. They ran.

  Steve took one last look over his shoulder, back up the beach. Silhouetted against the flames in the warehouse’s doorway were a man and a woman—Mr. and Mrs. Vanderdraak. From where Steve was, it looked like they were holding hands.

  The trio escaped while the warehouse burned.

  CHAPTER LXVII

  A FINAL RIDDLE

  DANA LED THE WAY, followed by Claire, then Steve. It was hard running. Steve’s feet sank deep every time they hit the sand, and every few seconds a wave would catch him around the calves. His wet socks squished inside his shoes. Soon Steve was out of breath.

  Steve paused, hands on knees, then started up again. His chest hurt. His right side radiated pain. He couldn’t let them get too far ahead.

  This was bad. They were hemmed in—the ocean on the right and sheer cliffs to the left. If the Vanderdraaks came after them in the dune buggy, there’d be no place to hide. Steve kept checking for a break in the rocks, or even a place that wasn’t too steep to climb. But there were only tall palm trees with bushy trunks that looked like fur, and behind those the cliff side rising up into blackness.

  They needed to get off this beach as soon as possible. But there was no way out.

  Maybe they should have gone north. It was too late to turn back now.

  The group slowed down to a jog, and then a walk. After a while Steve noticed that birds had begun singing in the brush beside the beach. The sky, still mostly black, was beginning to glow. Soon the sun would rise. They’d be spotted easily in the daylight.

  Dana and Claire stopped. Steve caught up.

  “Where are we going?” Dana said.

  “I don’t know,” said Steve. “But we’ve got to put as much distance between us and them as we can.”

  “We could get lost and die out here,” Dana said.

  Steve shook his head. They’d be caught first. “Let’s just keep going,” he said. “As soon as we see a way off this beach, we take it.”

  Claire nodded.

  It was windier now, blowing offshore. The palm trees rustled noisily. Out to their right, tall waves broke in a long clear line.

  “I need to take a break,” Claire said. Steve was grateful. He was exhausted.

  A faint, lonely cry came from some rocks jutting out in the water.

  Steve looked out to sea. “Is that some kind of bird?”

  “I think it’s just the rocks,” Dana said. “That happens sometimes—there are holes in the rocks like a flute.”

  They stood in the water, listening to the sound.

  “It’s a perfect C,” Claire said.

  Steve registered her sentence. He took a sharp breath. “What?”

  “The note the rocks are making. It’s a perfect C.”

  Steve chewed his thumbnail. He smiled, then started walking in a circle.

  “What?” Claire said.

  Steve was reaching in the pocket of his cargo shorts and pulling out his notebook.

  He flipped through it.

  “Uh-oh,” Dana said. “Guys. Headlights.” Steve turned around. Far down the shore, two yellow circles were coming down the beach. It was the dune buggy.

  “Let’s get moving,” Dana said. “Find someplace to hide.”

  “Hold on,” Steve said. “Wait.”

  He was looking in his notebook again.

  “Are you crazy?”

  Steve opened to some notes he’d made last Wednesday night. He lit up the face of his calculator watch so he could read the page.

  Turn west at the south pole,

  go down, then climb over the

  old man who sleeps on the beach.

  Turn right and then walk

  to the place where the

  sea sings its own name.

  “The sea is singing its own name,” Steve said. “C. Sea. I think this might be Danimal’s secret spot.”

  “What’s a Danimal?” Claire asked.

  “What are you talking about, Steve?” said Dana.

  “Guys,” said Steve. “I think I can get us out of here. We just need to reverse the directions.”

  “What directions?”

  “His grandfather’s directions. We should keep going down the beach.”

  “I really think we
should find somewhere to hide,” Dana said.

  “Look around,” Steve said. “There’s nowhere to hide. We’re totally exposed out here. Trapped.”

  Their only hope lay in the darkness ahead.

  The headlights were getting closer. The buggy’s engine was now audible in the distance.

  “Come on,” said Steve. “Let’s run a little farther. I think the old man who sleeps on the beach might be up there.”

  “What does that even mean?” Dana said.

  “I have no idea!” said Steve, sprinting down the shore.

  Steve ran, not knowing how long he needed to run or what he was looking for. But his stomach cramp had been replaced by the warm glow of a hunch. He hoped he was right: This could be the lucky break that made a good sleuth a great sleuth.

  “They’re getting closer,” Claire yelled from behind Steve.

  The engine was louder now, but Steve didn’t look back. His eyes were focused forward, looking for the old man. The sky was gray, and it was getting easier to see. That was good for Steve, but also good for the Vanderdraaks.

  “Steve!” shouted Dana. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Dana was not happy with this plan. Steve kept running.

  Then, suddenly, Steve stopped.

  “There,” he said.

  He pointed to a large rock that abutted the cliff side.

  “What?” said Dana.

  “The old man who sleeps on the beach!”

  “That’s a rock,” Dana said.

  “Yeah, but it looks like an old man lying on his back. See, there are his feet. There’s his beard, and there’s his nose.”

  “I don’t see it,” Dana said.

  “I guess I kind of see it,” Claire said.

  “See?” said Steve.

  “I think it looks more like a dragon’s head,” Dana said.

  “Oh, come on. A dragon? Are you serious with this?”

  “Oh, I kind of see the dragon,” Claire said. “Like, there’s his snout.”

  “Yeah,” said Dana.

  Steve looked behind him. He could see a greenish dot now. Soon—very soon—the Vanderdraaks would be close enough to spot them.