The 39 Clues: Rapid Fire #1: Legacy

by Riley Clifford

  Amy curved toward the fence and moved to the side, pushing Dan in through the gap first. He was smaller, and slid through easily.

  Dan turned once he was on the other side and grabbed Amy’s arm. Amy glanced over her shoulder. Though obscured by snow, the three men couldn’t have been more then twenty feet away. Amy tried slipping in through the bars while Dan pulled.

  But she didn’t fit. She was trapped outside with the kidnappers.

  “Oh, no,” she rasped. “Oh, no, no, no.”

  She wiggled around, trying desperately to squeeze through the gap. Dan groaned as he pulled.

  “Come on, Amy!” he said. “Come on!”

  “I can’t!” Amy said in a panic.

  Then, as if just to contradict her, Amy felt her body moving. Before she had a chance to feel relieved, she was suddenly through the fence, crashing onto Dan and sending them both spilling into the snow.

  Amy was up in a flash and searching around the lot while Dan scrambled to his feet.

  “Oh, no,” she said. The lot was surprisingly large, but it had no outlet besides the gate. All the doors to the warehouse were closed and bolted shut.

  “Amy,” Dan said, “look.” He nodded in the direction of one of the doors. Positioned right next to the doorway was a series of five large metal dumpsters.

  “No,” Amy said, shaking her head. “No way.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take those guys to climb a fence?” Dan said. “We have to hide!”

  Dan raced to the farthest dumpster, lifted the lid, and shimmied inside. “Get in!” he hissed, peeking his head out. “It doesn’t smell that bad.”

  Amy whimpered slightly as she put her hands on the metal lip of the dumpster, then scrambled ungracefully in beside her brother, lowering the lid behind her. She had to crouch into an awkward perching position once inside. It smelled exactly that bad.

  “Ugh,” Amy gagged. “This smells worse than the fort in your room.”

  “Shh!”

  They could just make out the sounds of three gravelly voices coming from outside.

  “. . . they go?”

  “Prob . . . to . . . out.”

  “No . . . saw . . . here.”

  There was a loud, metallic noise, followed by the sound of a chain falling away. They heard the gate swing open.

  “What’s going on?” Dan whispered. His voice was shaking, and Amy could feel him shivering beside her. “Why would anyone be after us, of all people?” Amy wanted to take his hand, but was terrified she might lose her balance and make a noise.

  The voices were getting louder.

  “. . . sure these are Grace Cahill’s grandkids?” one of the voices said. “. . . would they be out alone?”

  Amy and Dan stopped breathing. Something was very wrong.

  “Who knows . . . saved us the trouble . . .”

  “. . . Vesper, and get some more people out here. Search the area until you find them. . . . whatever force is necessary.”

  The voices and sound of crunching snow began moving farther away. Soon the lot was quiet.

  “He said Grace’s name,” Dan whispered.

  “They must be trying to get a ransom out of her,” said Amy. A deep, terrible panic was setting in. It seemed to pulse through her like a heartbeat, so intense it made her light-headed.

  “What was that other thing he said?” Dan said. “About a Vespa?”

  “They w-were wearing helmets,” Amy said. Her vision was slowly adjusting to the darkness. She couldn’t see much, but she could see that Dan’s eyes were wide with fear. She had to keep it together for her brother. Amy pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. The light from the screen illuminated the contents of the dumpster around them. It was blessedly un-full, but Amy couldn’t help imagining the vermin that probably made the place their home at night. Under the blue light of the phone, Dan’s face was pale and serious. Huddled up in the corner of the dumpster, he looked as terrified as she felt.

  “I’m calling the police,” Amy said. “Make sure they aren’t right outside.”

  “Espionage is what ninjas do best,” Dan said, with a weak grin. He tried to sound tough, but his voice was thin and shaky. Dan rose up to risk a slow, careful look out from a small hole chewed out of the top corner by rust.

  Two dark-clad figures stood near the entrance to the lot. The gate was wide open now, and Dan could just see that one of the figures had the handles of what he assumed were bolt cutters hanging out of his jacket pocket.

  “Two of them are watching the exit,” he whispered. “It looks like the third one left, the big one with the red stripe on his jacket. These guys really came prepared. They cut open the chain on the fence.”

  “Cut the chain?” Amy whispered. She swallowed, attempting desperately to shove the fear down into some manageable compartment of her brain. She needed to think. She needed to get help.

  “I’m calling the p-police now,” Amy said.

  Oh, no, she thought. Her stammer was starting, as it always did when she was nervous and had to talk to people. And she was more than just nervous now. She was delirious with fear.

  Amy looked down and took a deep breath. Somehow she managed to dial 911 into the phone with her shaking fingers. She placed it to her ear, and was startled when an operator answered after only a single ring.

  “Nine-one-one,” the woman said coolly. “What’s your emergency?”

  “H-hi,” Amy said, trying to remain calm.

  Don’t stammer, don’t stammer, don’t stammer.

  “He-hello, y-yes. My b-brother and I are near H-Hyde Park and these m-men are t-t-trying to hurt us.”

  “Can you tell me where you are exactly?” the operator said, her voice becoming serious.

  “I’m n-not sure,” Amy said. “We got a little l-l-lost.”

  Dan peeked out of the dumpster again, then immediately shot back down. “Hang up, quick!”

  In a panic, Amy ended the call. Seconds later she heard the snow crunch as feet passed in front of the dumpster, then stopped.

  Then the whistling began.

  Amy and Dan sat in silence, not daring to breathe, barely daring to think. Just above them, one of the kidnappers casually and deliberately whistled a creepy old children’s song called “Alouette” that Amy recognized from school. The song was about plucking the feathers from a small bird.

  This was it, Amy realized. They were caught. Dead, maybe. The guy was toying with them.

  They waited for what seemed like an eternity. The whistling sounded like it was right in Amy’s ear. Her lungs burned with the effort of holding her breath.

  Then the song suddenly finished. Amy expected the dumpster lid to go shooting up, to see that terrible black visor staring down at them. Instead, the crunching footsteps slowly moved off.

  Amy breathed in the rank air of the dumpster, and it felt like a miracle. It was all she could do not to break into tears.

  “They’re going to check the dumpsters eventually,” Dan whispered, after a few moments. “And they said more guys were on the way.” His voice was shakier than Amy had ever heard it.

  “What do we do?” Amy said. “I can’t keep calling the police and hanging up. I don’t even know where we are.”

  Amy jumped when she heard a loud metallic bang coming from the far end of the lot.

  “What’s that?” she whispered.

  Dan looked at her with round eyes. “They’ve started,” he said. It was the sound of a dumpster lid being thrown open.

  In the darkness, Amy heard Dan unzipping his backpack. “I have an idea,” he said. “But we have to be prepared to run.”

  Bang!

  “What’s your idea?”

  Suddenly, a light flared in the dumpster. In one hand Dan held a sterling Zippo lighter. In the other was the pack of bottle rockets Amy had gotten him for Christmas.

  “Where’d you get that lighter?” she demanded.

  “Frida,” Dan said, closing it. “She left it behind. Remember how s
he was always talking about camping and outdoorsy stuff? She said she kept a water-resistant lighter on her at all times, in case she needed emergency fire.”

  There was a short beat of silence in the dumpster.

  “Huh,” said Dan. “Except probably now.”

  “Are you s-sure about th-this?” said Amy. “Bottle rockets?”

  Bang! They were getting closer.

  “No,” said Dan. “But we’re out of time. Just get ready to run, okay?”

  Amy swallowed, and nodded at her brother.

  Dan pulled two rockets from the pack. He stood up and peeked out from under the lid. The kidnappers were near the fence, checking a dumpster two down from them. So far so good. He aimed one of the rockets for the other end of the lot, away from both the entrance and the dumpster.

  “Here goes,” he said. Dan opened the Zippo and lit the fuse.

  It hissed for half a second, then the rocket shot screaming away.

  Crack!

  “Over there!” one of the kidnappers shouted.

  Amy started to rise. “Let’s go!”

  “Wait,” Dan said, aiming the second rocket. “It’s a two-part plan.” He lit the fuse and the rocket shot off in the direction of the would-be kidnappers.

  “Auuuurrrrgghh!”

  “Run now!” Dan said.

  Amy and Dan burst from the dumpster and scrambled for the entrance of the lot. Looking behind him, Dan saw that one of the kidnappers was frantically fanning his butt, which was smoking slightly.

  “Part two was completely unnecessary, wasn’t it?” Amy yelled as they ran.

  “Yup!” shouted Dan.

  “There they go!” The kidnappers had spotted them.

  Amy grabbed Dan’s arm and surged forward. They made it out of the lot and turned left, heading back in the direction they’d come from. They ran as fast as they could back toward home, but the snow continued to fall heavily and the pair kept stumbling. Amy looked behind her and gasped. The men were just a few yards away, and gaining.

  “Follow me,” she said, still tightly gripping Dan’s arm. She shot to the right, turning down a small side road. About halfway down, she turned right again.

  “Wait, what?” Dan said. “We’re going back the other way!”

  “Exactly,” said Amy. “It’s unpredictable. Hopefully the kidnappers won’t think we’d double back, either.”

  The street they’d backtracked onto was just as deserted, but Amy spotted a battered plywood fence farther down in front of them. She ducked behind it, pulling Dan with her. After a few seconds, she could hear the slap of the kidnappers’ feet as they ran past.

  It worked, Amy thought. I can’t believe it worked! She pulled Dan in closer to her.

  Suddenly, Amy’s phone started vibrating. She reached into her jacket pocket, fumbling to pull it out. On the screen was the name Grace Cahill.

  Amy hit answer and placed the phone to her ear. “Grace, we’re in t-trouble,” Amy stammered.

  “What’s happened?” her grandmother’s voice answered from the other end, wasting no time.

  “We’re in Hyde Park. These m-men are following us,” Amy whispered as loudly as she dared. “They said your n-n-name and they’re bringing more guys to try and f-find us.”

  “Tell her about the Vespas,” Dan said.

  “Shush!” Amy hissed.

  “What did Dan just say?” Grace said, her voice rising. Amy’s heart almost stopped. She’d never heard her grandmother sound afraid before.

  A voice from their left, getting louder. The kidnappers were returning. There was no time. She looked around her. The place was littered with garbage, including glass bottles, a large piece of tarp, and . . . twine.

  She made a decision. If Dan could be brave in this awful situation, so could she. She didn’t have any other choice.

  “Dan,” she whispered. “Get the bottle rockets out.”

  “Amy, do not engage these men,” Grace said from the phone. “Do you understand me? I’m calling the police.”

  “Grace . . .” Amy sobbed.

  “Amy?” said Grace.

  “We love you.”

  “Amy, no! Do no —”

  Amy hung up the phone. She looked over to Dan, who was holding a fistful of bottle rockets, his eyes wide.

  “I’m going to get us out of this,” Amy said. “Don’t worry, d-dweeb.” It wasn’t exactly comforting.

  Dan was shaking like the last leaf of winter, his face completely serious. “If only you’d brought that book about Chucklesky. That huge thing would scare these guys away for sure.”

  “Tchaikovsky,” Amy said with a small smile. She grabbed one of the bigger glass bottles nearby. “How many rockets can we fit into this?”

  “Five safely,” Dan said. “Let’s try fifteen.”

  “Do it,” Amy said, handing the bottle to him. She picked up a bit of twine from the ground. “Okay, Dan, ready to see what happens when you tie three bottle rocket ends together so they all pull in different directions?”

  Dan looked up at his sister. A huge grin spread across his face.

  Two faceless, black-clad figures stalked back along the side street, methodically searching the area. They kicked over every trash can, crumpled every box, checked every doorway, and smashed in every window. They moved with ruthless precision. The chase had gone on long enough.

  Halfway down the street, one of the figures stopped in place, and motioned for the other to be quiet. His partner slowly lowered the recycling bin he’d been looking under.

  There. Yes. Definitely the sound of whispering. He moved, slowly and silently, to the corner of a side street. Peering around, he spotted a shadow hidden behind a bit of dilapidated wooden fencing. A long section of tarp hung out from behind the fence. The Cahill brats were clearly trying to hide under the tarp.

  The man and his partner sneaked up very slowly to the fence, treading carefully once they were on the tarp. Turning, the man nodded to his partner, who nodded back. They lunged around the fence.

  There stood Dan alone, with a ninja mask pulled over his face. Fifteen hissing bottle rockets were pointed right at them.

  “Screaming bottle of death-jutsu!” Dan yelled.

  The rockets exploded into the air just as the men turned to run. Behind them, Amy burst out from under a section of tarp. She made a noise that was part battle cry and part scream of terror, and pulled hard on it.

  Amy was no Wonder Woman, but the men’s panic and the slick, snow-covered surface of the tarp were enough. The two kidnappers fell on top of each other, under a shower of fireworks. Amy threw the tarp over the kidnappers. Dan lit the bottle rocket daisy chain and tossed it in after them, then tied the ends of the tarp in a quick, messy knot. Inside, there was a series of screeches and cracks, and the kidnappers started shrieking.

  Amy grabbed Dan’s hand and ran.

  “That whole thing would have been much cooler in my ninja costume,” Dan puffed.

  “No, it wouldn’t,” said Amy. She rounded the corner that led back the way they came, in toward town.

  And slammed right into the third kidnapper.

  Things seemed to happen in slow motion. Both Amy and the kidnapper were knocked back. Dan let go of Amy’s hand, and before he even realized what he was doing he charged forward, pushing the off-balance figure with all his strength.

  Somehow the shove worked, and the man fell over into the snow. Dan grabbed Amy, pulling her back into a run.

  But the kidnapper was up fast, and chasing them down. Looking back, Amy realized that he was gaining on them with incredible speed, even in the snow. His shining, blank visor gave no clue as to the person inside, but he was close enough that Amy could see herself reflected in the helmet, running, her face a contorted mask of fear. In the quiet of the snowy street, Amy could hear the man’s heavy, growling breaths under his helmet as he ran.

  Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a gleaming steel knife.

  For a brief second, the blade
caught the reflection of the red stripe in the kidnapper’s jacket, and Amy imagined it covered in blood.

  “No, no, no, no,” she pleaded, straining forward. Though she ran desperately, it was difficult to get any traction in the snow. Her legs were burning, but she willed them to keep going. Snow whipped past her face, but Amy couldn’t feel it anymore. All she could think about was the gleam of the knife and the blank visor of the kidnapper behind her.

  “He’s gaining!” Dan screamed. “He’s got a knife!”

  “I know!”

  Amy didn’t dare look behind her again — he sounded too close. Any second now she’d be wrenched back and feel the edge of that knife pushed against her neck.

  Then she saw it.

  The route she’d taken from the populated street was right in front of them. It glowed with a shifting white and blue light, like some magical pathway home in a fairy tale. And below the noise of her ragged breathing, of the slap of the man’s feet just behind them, she heard a sound more wonderful than all the Tchaikovsky scores combined — a car engine.

  Amy made a hard left turn, practically dragging Dan with her. There, idling on the side of the road, was a police car flashing its lights. Amy had never seen anything more beautiful.

  “It’s them!” said a nearby voice. “The kids who made the call!”

  Two police officers rushed over to Amy and Dan. Huffing and wheezing, Dan turned around to point to their pursuer, but the street was empty of anything except soft, white snow.

  “This can’t possibly all be for us,” Dan said, his mouth hanging open long after he’d finished speaking. The parlor of Grace’s mansion was filled wall to wall with Christmas decorations. Enormous, ornate wreaths hung on the walls, dressed in shimmering white ribbons, and almost every surface in the room was covered in flickering red and gold candles. A warm fire crackled conversationally from the fireplace in the back of the room, where two beautiful stockings were hanging, full to bursting.

  At the center of the parlor, a giant tree towered over piles and piles of gifts in shining red and green wrapping paper, all of which was encircled by what looked like a functioning toy train set. It was as if a city of presents had been built into the side of a jolly green mountain.