by B. C. Tweedt
They shared a smile, suddenly very awake.
Chapter 9
Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep.
His watch alarm chirped at him, muffled underneath his pillow, and he woke with a start. Throwing off his covers, he emerged fully clothed and prepped for the excursion. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he turned off the alarm that had been set for 2 AM and peeked through the slits in the blinds covering the window. Soft, white light from the Christmas lights bathed their camping area and polished the tent Kip had pitched outside between the two campers. There was nothing but darkness and silence coming from the tent. Perfect.
He slipped up to his sleeping mother, kissed her on her forehead and said goodbye, padded to the front cabin, and exited out the driver’s door with a long, pestering squeak of old hinges. Once outside, he listened for sounds of any woken adults, but there were only crickets and rustling leaves that bristled in the cold breeze. It made Greyson shiver and think twice about going back for a long-sleeved shirt, but he just rubbed his arms and decided to keep moving.
“Psst.”
He met Sydney first. She had snuck out in the same way and had wisely donned a dark-colored hooded sweatshirt. Smiling at him from behind a tree, she motioned him over. It had been easy to convince her that sneaking out was the thing to do. None of their parents – or Kip especially – would allow it, but ‘bad guys always did their bad stuff in the dark’, Greyson had pointed out. It was the wisest thing to do. He was just daring to be wise like Kip had said.
Just as he found cover behind Sydney’s tree, the text came in from Jarryd.
At rondayvoo.
“Even spell-check couldn’t help that one,” Sydney scoffed.
He chuckled, and after taking cautious glances all around, scampered between a row of campers toward the fair. Together they weaved through campsites of picnic tables with leftovers of decks of cards strewn about, makeshift patios with American and football-team flags draping over the sides, and quieted radios that had once been blaring the latest country or pop songs.
They peeked at windows and watched their backs, but there were no traces of being watched. Besides the incessant chirping insects, it seemed they were the only ones awake – or alive – in a new sort of ghost town recently emptied of its citizens. Especially cautious in the dark, they had to climb over hoses and electric wires that snaked from each RV to a central unit. One bad trip against the hoses and water and electricity would combine to not only end their excursion, but also their lives.
But they weren’t afraid. They were excited. Greyson couldn’t imagine any world-renowned terrorist trying to attack Iowa – twice. He was long gone, and the kid who had happened to be there when Emory’s brother had died, was long forgotten. The chances of seeing Emory again were so remote that it wasn’t worth thinking about. A remote chance wouldn’t stop him from doing what was right – making sure the fair was safe from Pluribus.
“There they are,” Sydney whispered and pointed. “Hiding behind that fence.”
Greyson spotted the twins’ and Liam’s heads sticking over the top of the angled wood on the hill overlooking the fairgrounds. Nodding at Sydney, he led them across the dirt street, joining up with the boys who had been expecting them.
“Kip didn’t see you?” Nick asked pointedly.
“No. We’re good to go.”
“Great. Take a look.”
Their hill offered a decent view of the east entrance connecting the fairgrounds with the campgrounds. Barbed-wire fencing encircled the fair all the way up to the dark and empty ticket booth, and the pedestrian gate had been padlocked closed.
“Maybe I could pick that lock…” Sydney whispered. In her 4H presentation about escaping abduction, lock picking had been one of her methods of escape.
“Good idea – but look. It’s right under the lights. And then we’d open that huge, creaking gate. Someone would be bound to wake up or see us.”
Sydney nodded. He was right. “Then what?”
“Posh. This will be easy!” Jarryd whispered excitedly. “See that RV there, close to the fence? I don’t think Nick could make that jump, so we might need to borrow one of the planks from someone’s crappy deck. We put that plank from the RV onto the barbed wire and walk across ship-shape. Then we can eat all the food and ride all the rides we want to.”
All except Nick were impressed with his idea.
“That should work. Unless those guys catch us.” Greyson said stoically as he pointed into the fair where two security guards were shining flashlights into alleyways.
The kids examined the men with squinting eyes. Nothing about them seemed out of the ordinary for the type of security guards they would see in a mall or a bank, except for maybe their uniforms being too small for their muscular frames. It also appeared as if they had some weapon attached to their belts, but whether it was a Taser or an actual gun was uncertain. None of them wished to find out.
“W-what do we d-d-do?” Liam asked, watching Greyson’s face scan the area.
Part of him wanted to suggest getting blankets and laying them out on the grass on the hill in order to enjoy a night of relaxing stargazing. They were beautiful tonight, as always, but enjoying them with friends would make them even better.
He shook the thought from his head. He’d never be able to live with himself.
“We wait until they pass and then we get the plank. Once inside, we keep them in our sight the whole time. We can’t let them sneak up on us.”
The others nodded, waiting for his move.
“And once inside, where are we going exactly?” Sydney asked. “Looking for a burial ground? A graveyard of infected skeletons?”
Jarryd smiled, his front two teeth biting over his bottom lip in anticipation. “Heck ya! Then we show the governor and he makes us famous then we get on TV and then chicks will dig us.” He winked at each one of them until he came to Sydney’s glowering face. “Uh…except for you. Sam will dig you – not chicks.”
Greyson frowned. “Sam already digs her. And no, we’re not looking for skeletons. We’re looking for anything suspicious. Any Pluribus stuff or whatever.”
Nick blew out air, obviously frustrated with the lack of clarity in the mission and still irked that Jarryd had supplied the plan. Sydney was still trying to get Greyson to recognize her glare for the Sam remark, but he was focused ahead, purposefully ignoring her. Nonetheless, when Greyson motioned for them to follow, they were right behind, checking their backs as they began their search for a suitable plank.
-----------------
“Easy now.”
Sydney wavered on top of the plank, precariously placed from the edge of the RV to the top of the chained-link fence, pressing the barbed wire down and bowing the fence just enough to make it wobbly.
The RV creaked below the boys’ weight, piercing the night with tiny, squeaking alarms. Luckily, whoever occupied the camper was either away for the night, or slept like the dead. At first, Greyson had scaled it using the handy ladder attached to the rear, and the others had watched for signs of life on the inside. After a few minutes, Sydney had joined him with the same caution. Once their nerves had been settled, Nick and Jarryd had grabbed the plank and passed it to Greyson and Sydney, who positioned it as a bridge and lowered it. It had scraped the top of the RV with an embarrassingly loud grating noise.
They had dropped to their stomachs, waiting for what seemed an eternity to be discovered, but no one ventured from their dens to investigate. Finally ready for the adventure over the wall, Sydney had been first to volunteer.
“What if you get over and something happens and we can’t get to you?” Greyson had complained. “Or if you trip and fall into the barbed wire and no one is there to pull you out?”
Sydney had just smiled, gave him a fake slug on the shoulder, and started on her way. “I’ll be fine. Just keep it steady.”
So Greyson had obeyed, kneeling on the edge of the plank on the RV to steady it, watching Sydney cross, foot in front of foot
, arms outstretched to each side, eyes focused on each step in front of her.
The fence shook as she approached the middle and the boys bit their lips as the plank bowed as if it wanted to snap. Greyson wanted to warn Sydney, but could predict her reacting as if it was a fat joke. It wasn’t worth the risk.
“Doing good. Almost there!” he whispered instead.
Her feet struck the plank where it met the fence and she immediately jumped down to the grass on the other side. Swiping her hair back over her ear, she looked back to the boys with a sly smile and a thumbs-up.
Taking a deep sigh of relief, Greyson eyed the campgrounds and the fairgrounds for any intrusions; finding none, he sent Liam across without event. When Liam landed on the other side of the fence safely, Greyson took his turn on the plank with Nick holding it.
He’d never really been afraid of heights, but this was different. It was dark, he was doing something illegal, and the plank wavered beneath his feet. There were no guardrails, no ropes attached to his belt, and not even a spotter underneath. But the scariest thing was knowing that if he fell, he’d have failed at something that Sydney had done without any problems. He couldn’t let a girl do that to him.
“Almost there,” Nick reported.
And that’s when he saw them. He was about to make the jump when their flashlights began dancing on the asphalt a hundred yards down the street where the little main street stores sold frozen pickles and milkshakes.
As his heart jumped, he did as well, landing with a thud on the grass next to Sydney. He turned just as suddenly.
“Now! Get across now! They’re coming!” he whispered loudly.
Jarryd and Nick saw them from the RV and their eyes lit up. Nick jumped to action, almost jogging across and Jarryd barely had enough time to snag the plank and push it down firmly against the RV.
Nick’s balance was superb and he barreled across, joining them on the other side, but Jarryd was frozen, unsure of what to do. He’d have no one to steady the plank for him.
“Come on! Think how the chicks will dig you!”
“You can do it!”
“I dare you!”
Finally his frozen muscles thawed, his jaw settled into a determined nod, and he crossed the plank with speed and fortitude. Until the very end.
As he made the jump, he pressed his foot against the end of the plank; his weight carried the plank with him, lifting the back end straight into the air above the RV. The kids watched as if in slow motion, their jaws dropping, waiting for it to crash into the top of the RV like a blazing car alarm. There seemed nothing they could do but watch in horror. And they’d be stuck inside the barbed-wire fence.
And then it came down and – stopped, hovering inches above the RV’s roof. There was no great crash, only Greyson’s grunting as he held on to their end of the plank, his body dangling in the air as his weight barely kept the back end from falling. He hadn’t hesitated.
“Little help?”
Suddenly the other kids realized what he had done, rushed to his aid, and pulled the plank across with them. In another moment they were hidden behind a hill, watching the security guards come into view.
After the guards had checked out the gate and gone, the kids exchanged long, desperately thankful looks letting the adrenaline pump from their veins in long thumps of their beating hearts.
Panting, Jarryd sighed and turned to the others. “That was so – ”
“Let’s go,” Greyson interrupted, leaving their hill, crouched and speedy.
“I uh, just thought we could take a little break…”
Sydney jerked Jarryd to his feet. As they followed Greyson into the fair, it only took a moment for them shake off the fact that their night wasn’t over just yet.
Chapter 10
A chorus of animal lullabies punctuated the musty air as the kids crunched slowly through the straw and sawdust strewn about the concrete halls of the swine barn where Greyson had chased the Plurb boy earlier and had confronted the giant ostrich. Not only home to swine, the swine barn was filled with murmurs of goats, cows, chickens, pigs, and even an elk – most of which were asleep.
Sydney and the boys treaded carefully with only slanted rectangles of starlight streaking in from slotted windows to guide them around the crowded stables and pens. Moving from one low wall to another, they hid from any backward glances and far enough away to hide any unintended sounds.
Following the guards had been uneventful, and urges to sleep were beginning to compete with the excitement that had been pumping through their bodies since the first trespass over the fence. The streets and vendor huts had been empty, lifeless, and boring. The carnival had been creepy, but uninhabited and uninteresting. Besides the two guards they had faithfully followed, they had spotted nothing of interest. And their feet were getting sore.
The guards came to the open exit from the barn and turned out of view. As soon as they had left eyesight, Jarryd assumed they were out of earshot as well.
“This is boring!”
“Shhh!” Greyson shushed him.
The group stopped in the middle of the aisle, listening to the men’s faint footsteps on the street and their indecipherable jabber.
“We got to get closer – to hear what they say,” Greyson ordered, taking a step in their direction.
“Wait,” Sydney grabbed him.
“What?”
“I hear something.”
He paused, rolling his eyes impatiently. There were chickens scratching in a pen behind them and a rustling of piglets further back. The breeze would vibrate against the windows and Jarryd’s stomach gargled, but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Until he heard it, too. A digging sound. Scraping against dirt, like a shovel striking the ground. He heard it once and then, after several torturous seconds, a second time – closer.
“Grave diggers,” Jarryd whispered with the voice of a mouse.
“Shhh!” Greyson elbowed him and he squeaked, but it was quiet enough to hear the approaching voices. The voices weren’t those of the guards.
The kids’ eye’s glowed in the yellowish light as they bounced from place to place in panic. And then the shovel stuck again – right outside the barn.
“Hide!”
They scattered in all directions, pushing against and over gates, under railings and through stacks of hay. There was a great rustling, leaving specks of dust and straw floating in a wash of starlight just as the voices entered the barn.
Greyson found himself inside one of the stables and pushed against the side. Spreading some dirty straw from the ground over himself as camouflage at the last second, he held his breath both because of the smell and to cover the sound of his breathing as several pairs of feet shuffled near his pen.
Suddenly the wall of the pen moved, or what he had thought was the wall, rubbing its pig flesh against his cheek. Instinctively he reached out to push it away, but he withdrew when he saw the sticky mess the straw had left between his fingers, which was also now camouflaging his body. It hadn’t been all straw he had grabbed.
Sick! A gag rose in his throat. At least I smell like a pig now, too.
“Right there. Next to that one.”
His attention snapped to the voice. He could barely make out their legs and shoes from underneath the gate, but their voices were a dead giveaway. They were not adults.
“No – that’s that one. This is this one.”
Two boys were rustling with a piece of paper.
“He’s right. Put it there,” came a girl’s voice. “A few feet won’t matter anyway.”
They laughed. “This will be crazy. I’m guessing they just want them here for the fun of it.”
Across the aisle from Greyson, Jarryd watched through a hole in a pen’s wall as a large teenager reached into a cart full of long, slender objects – like small missiles or swords. Jarryd couldn’t quite make out what the objects were through their bodies, but he pressed his eye closer to the hole. Were they shovels? Gravestones? Weapons
?
Something tugged at his shirt. His brother – probably trying to get him to hide better. But he had to see this. This was what Greyson had been wanting to see. And if he got a better look at the tallest one’s face, then he could give Greyson the good news. They had found the boy in the white shirt.
His shirt was tugged again and he whirled around, ready with a serious glare and a backhand, but he was stopped short by the snout of large goat as it lunged for his throat. Its bearded mouth snapped to his collar and latched onto the piece of straw that had landed there. Eyes and mouth wide open and back against the wall, Jarryd let the goat nibble away, unwilling to touch the beast. Just beyond, he could see his brother hiding in the corner, dumbfounded but amused.
As the goat released, still chewing with his bearded jaw working like a broken machine, Jarryd turned back to the hole just in time to see the teenager hold the object above his head and swing it straight toward him.
He let out a faint yelp and fell backward, but the object had merely been placed against one of the stable’s supports and tied secure.
“You scared the goats, you jerk!”
“My bad. They’ll appreciate it tomorrow.”
The teenagers’ laughter echoed through the barn as they made their way down the hallway and away from the hidden kids, dragging the cart full of the objects behind them.
Jarryd sat next to the eating goat and stared at it, breathing hard and recovering from the double shock. When the sounds of the teenagers were far enough away, Nick emerged from the shadowy corner and grabbed his brother’s shoulder.
“You okay?”
“I think so – but this stupid goat thing tried to kill me.”
Nick scoffed. “Oh, be nice. It’s just a kid.”
Across the aisle, Greyson peeked above the gate’s railing to the twins. When he saw that they were safe, he glanced down the aisle to the retreating teenagers. On the back of each one of their shirts was the word ‘Volunteer’. Finally, his eyes landed on the object they had tied to the pen and left. It wasn’t a shovel, a missile, or a weapon. It was just a torch.