by B. C. Tweedt
“Gloria, don’t say anything and don’t be scared, but we’re going to have to run,” he whispered. “Fast.”
She looked to him in astonishment, but didn’t say a word. He grabbed her hand, still striding like a man on a walk with his wife.
“I can’t stay with you. When I shoot, run. Be unpredictable. Find a safe place far away and hide. Got it? For now, keep smiling.” Aside from a few glances and smiles at his partner, his eyes did not stray from the man in front of them. Her eyes did not stray from him.
“Okay,” Gloria said, trying her best not to panic and to smile. “Is it him?”
“I don’t know.”
Gloria’s eyes suddenly registered a fresh wave of fear. “Greyson…”
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“Greyson Gray!”
The boys startled and turned. Everett’s son was approaching them through the crowds, strutting and motioning to all of his friends to do the same. The Plurbs completed the loose circle around them, the redhead licking her lips and caressing the whip at her side. Jarryd gulped.
Greyson eyed each of his friends and then addressed the boy. “What do you want? Just let us leave and we won’t bother you.”
The boy laughed, prompting weird looks from passersby. “And let you tell everyone everything you saw? My dad is foolish.”
“If he gets what he wants, what does it matter?”
“He always wants more.” The boy wiped his hand through his shock of brown hair, looking around. “And besides. I don’t like you.”
Jarryd took a step toward him. “Well he doesn’t like you either, fat face!”
The boy’s smirk flickered into hate and then back again. “My name’s Orion.”
Jarryd laughed. “Where’s your belt? Your fat keep your pants up?”
Orion glanced down at his waist. He was far from fat. He was fit and stood six inches above Greyson. Greyson would rather not let it come down to a fight. He elbowed Jarryd to cool it.
“You guys aren’t going anywhere. Why don’t you come with us to a nice, air-conditioned room where you can wait it out?”
Nick sided up to Greyson and whispered. “Nine minutes ‘til four.”
They couldn’t stay like this. He scanned the concourse to their left. Long crowds of people still crisscrossed the area; tiki-torches were on both sides, between food huts, snaking around sidewalk paths all the way toward the Riley Stage where patriotic music could be heard over the din of the crowd. And they had seen torches being planted inside the animal barns, around side streets, and up to the exits. Whatever they were for, they could go off in ten minutes.
And then the men with guns would come.
Sam wouldn’t stand a chance, and Sydney would be with him.
Greyson glanced at his phone. No message from Sydney. No bars. It had happened already and time was ticking. But he couldn’t panic and rush into something stupid. He had to think.
Again his mind began to spin without finding traction; again he couldn’t keep one train of thought for long without losing it and starting another. Until his darting eyes landed on the boys behind him. His friends. The friends who had always been behind him. Jarryd and Nick and Liam. They were gazing at him, waiting to be of help.
Of course. Am I that blind and stupid? How did I forget my friends? I can’t do everything by myself. I haven’t saved anyone by myself – ever. Why was I trying to do it now?
“We need to discuss it,” he shouted to Orion. “Give us a second.”
He pulled the boys into a linked-arm huddle as Orion and the Plurbs stopped their advance with haughty smirks.
“What do we do?” Jarryd panicked. “We have to get out of here!”
“The b-b-bombs are g-going to g-go off!” Liam squirmed.
“Just wait! Calm down!” he shouted at them, breathless.
“Eight minutes,” Nick said.
Greyson glared at him.
“Just sayin’…” he muttered.
“I need your help,” Greyson said plainly, trying to focus them. “We need a plan.”
“First we run, then we scream, then we hide!” Jarryd exclaimed.
“That doesn’t help,” Nick sighed.
“W-we could s-s-steal a-an am-am-ambulance.”
“Or we could all strip down to cause a distraction and then Greyson runs in…”
“We first have to get away from these jerks…”
“…slingshots the governor so he thinks he’s in danger and gets away…”
“…jack some walkie talkies…”
“Use a h-h-horse…”
“…the SkyRide with a rope…”
“Hijack a tractor-taxi…”
The boys exchanged confident looks and nodded at each other as they threw out ideas, but every passing moment was testing Orion’s patience and tightening the noose around Sydney’s neck, and Greyson knew it.
Greyson shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to take the ideas and make a plan that worked. But the noise and heat were too distracting, and when he opened them a moment later, he was staring straight at Jarryd’s shirt.
Legendary.
Greyson stared at the word written in golden, cursive print. Something about it stuck out to him. The meaning was fantastic. And incredibly ironic. They were in the midst of a living legend. Surrounded by hostiles. Quarantined. About to die.
But it wasn’t just the meaning. It was the way it was written. The cursive looked just like Liam’s handwriting when he had written on their shield at sports camp. They had brainstormed words that stood for what they wanted to be as a group – what would define them. And they had only come up with one.
Daring.
And the word had rung true. It had defined them. It was not just his thing, it was their thing. They had dared to do good, even when it was hard. They had risked their lives for something that seemed impossible, and had nearly lost them.
Something broke through Greyson’s heart and sent a wave of energy to his core. They had to do it again. It wouldn’t – couldn’t be the same, but he – no, they - had to save those they loved. Fate had led them here and Fate would lead them out.
“We’re gonna break this quarantine.”
The boys stared blankly ahead, nodding slowly to themselves as they felt Greyson’s conviction and confidence grow.
“We’re going to have to cause a scene, but Emory still gets what he wants today. The thing is, so do we. He will go down eventually. Trust me.” Greyson put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Get to the SkyRide. I’ll need eyes to get Sydney out of there. Our phones don’t work, so find us some walkies.”
“Got it.”
“Liam, find my mom and Kip. Keep them away from the speech however you can.”
“Y-yeah. G-got it. L-love you.” Liam’s eyes were watery and his chest began to heave.
Greyson leaned in and pressed his head against his. “It’s okay, dude. We’ll do this. I love you, too.” Greyson nodded at Liam and he nodded back, wiping his tears. His focus switched to Jarryd. “We need transportation. Find me something. Anything.”
Jarryd nodded. “Okay. I can go all Grand Theft Auto on it?”
“Absolutely. And you’ll meet me at the speech. Sydney and I will jump on. Nick will lead us out of there, and we’ll meet up with Liam and our families at the campground. We can’t stop this, but we can live to get revenge. Sound like a plan?”
He went around the circle, making eye contact with each one. The boys were thinking, but were on board. After a long breath, he spoke with passion.
“It’s going to be hard. We’re going to be scared. And we don’t know what’s going to happen. But if things don’t go according to plan, we’re going to fight even harder. Don’t ever panic; but think, and then act. Be daring. Be wise.” Then, with eyes blazing with zeal, he muttered his last words of exhortation. “Sapere Aude.”
Jarryd blew out a sigh. “Dang right. It’s the oddest day I’ve every had…”
“No. That’s not what I
said.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “It means ‘dare to be wise’; it’s Latin.”
Jarryd smiled. “Ah. That’s good. But if you say it in English, people will understand it. Latin’s only good for Latino people, and they’re mostly in Mexico.”
Nick looked at his watch and interrupted his brother’s stupidity. “Six minutes.”
“Sapere Aude,” Greyson said one more time, letting it sink in this time. Silence returned to the group as they pondered the dare and the plan.
Greyson took in a deep breath and slowly rose to his feet. He met eyes with Orion. Then, with purpose in his eyes, he reached for his hat and turned it backwards.
Chapter 17
Kip caught the reflection in a camper’s rearview mirror. Another man was joining their walk on the path behind them, boxing them in. He didn’t dare turn around. If he did, they’d make their move. If he didn’t they’d wait for the curve in the road where a large tree jutted out of the middle of the path before the hill, obstructing much of the view. At least, that’s when he would do it.
And then Kip saw it.
Someone was in the tree.
A single leaf had fallen, but it was enough to set him off.
Kip pulled his pistol, put two rounds into the man in front of them and yanked Gloria to the left as a barrage of bangs pounded the air like fireworks behind them. The bullets streaked into the RVs just as Kip pulled the screaming Gloria behind their cover.
The man behind them lowered his automatic rifle and ran after them as the assassin dropped from the tree, knife at his side and smile cracking his face.
It had begun. And it wanted a hunt.
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“How do we break the quarantine?” Nick asked, eyeing the six Plurbs.
“Just run. As hard as you can.” Greyson slowly unzipped his fanny pack, still eyeing Orion. “I’ll take care of it.”
Jarryd, Liam, and Nick shared a look of desperation as if they knew the dam was about to break, holding back a colossal sea of chaos.
“Go!”
And the dam broke.
Jarryd bolted first, and Liam and Nick followed. One shaggy-haired Plurb stood in their way; his eye’s lit up and he bounced in his place, unsure of what to do.
“Stop them!” Orion barked.
Shaggy Hair took a step toward Liam, but something struck him in the head and his knees gave out. His body hit the pavement, out cold.
Liam and the boys sprinted past, zigzagging through a startled crowd with two more Plurbs hot on their tail.
Greyson could hold three ball-bearings in his loading hand at once. He needed two fingers to hold the ammunition pocket, but his other fingers held the next two shots. He shifted the next shot to the pocket, jerked his aim, and let it fly.
Snap! The ball slammed into the tall Plurb’s calf and he sprawled onto the concrete at the feet of a mother with a baby carriage.
Reload – pull – aim – snap!
The short one with glasses fell elbows first, inches from Jarryd. Jarryd turned, took the kid’s glasses and smashed him with his foot. Smiling to himself, he disappeared into the crowd.
Greyson’s right hand slammed into his pack and rounded up three more shots.
“Get him!”
The thicker one with buzzed hair charged him like a bull.
Pull – aim – snap!
The ball pounded into Buzz’s stomach, slowing him down, but not stopping him.
Pull – aim – snap! Just missed Orion’s face as he dodged into the crowd.
Pull – aim – snap! Another one into the thicker one with buzzed hair – this time his thigh.
Reload! The ball-bearings were slippery and his hands were shaking. He got one into the pocket, raised it at Buzz’s head, and…
WICK-CHAP!
The sound erupted next to his ear and his neck burned like it had been doused with hot liquid. He instinctively dropped the ammunition packet and slapped his hand to his burning neck, turning to look for the source. It was RedHead. She had her whip at her side, snaking down to the concrete. Her knees were bent and an evil smile spread across her freckled face. The crowd of people had instantly backed away from them in fright.
Before she could whip again, Buzz slammed into Greyson from behind and wrapped him up in his thick arms. Both of Greyson’s arms were pinned, and Orion suddenly stood in front of him, fist already zipping toward his stomach.
Thud! The bony fist slammed his stomach, punching the air from his lungs and sending saliva with it. The next punch he had time to flex, and his abs took the hard blow with a smack.
Trying to regain his breath, he lashed out with his legs and swiped Orion in the jaw with a crack. It wasn’t a commanding blow, but it stunned him enough to hack out another breath before he came at him again.
But this time, Orion didn’t go for the stomach; he went for his face.
The fist felt like a hammer, striking his cheekbone with cold steel. It rocked his brain, flashing his vision off and on like a television. The second blow sent another bolt through him and he went limp, squirming to get free, but failing against Buzz’s strength.
“You are pathetic!” Orion muttered, pulling back his fist.
“Hey, let him go!”
The crowd of adults had finally taken to what was going on.
“What’s going on?”
“Stop this!”
Orion stopped his onslaught, eyeing the crowd just long enough for Greyson to recollect himself. He stomped on Buzz’s toes and swung his head backward, smashing against his soft nose. Instantly, he was free. He wanted to strike Orion, but he had slipped into the crowd. Instead, turning on his heels, he placed a solid kick into Buzz’s stomach, sending him reeling backward as he held his nose in his hands. He somersaulted to a stop on the hard cement.
Before Greyson could run, adults leaped at him, grabbing his arms and his chest.
RedHead was holding others off herself. Wick-chap! Wick-chap!
But Orion was on the outside, blending in with the crowd, stalking him with an annoyed smirk.
You’ll get yours.
“Let me go!” He lashed out, swinging his arms and legs, and somehow squirmed free. He got three more steps toward Orion, dodged one more adult before another man snagged him and wrapped him up. They were too strong, and too many! But he had to get free. Sydney’s waiting on me!
“What are you fighting for, kid?”
If you only knew… “They attacked me first! Just let me go and I’ll explain.”
The man held both his arms and kept him too close to try anything like he had with Buzz, who was being helped up by another good citizen.
“You’ll explain it to the cops, kid.”
The man threw him over his shoulder and held him tight at the waist. His torso hung over the man’s back. He tried to squirm and kick and hit him in the back; he tried to reach around to his pack, but he was too strong. Nothing fazed him. And as he was being carried off, he could see RedHead still holding off several courageous adults trying to bring her down. She would swing her whip around and around her head and snap it at the closest one. But she was backing herself into a corner. They’d get her, too, but they would take one or two of her painful snaps to do so.
Suddenly he remembered.
The shot he’d taken to the neck was still burning.
He swiped at the back of his neck and came away with a smear of blood. Smiling, he raised his torso up enough for him to reach the man’s face and rubbed his hand across the man’s mouth.
“Ugggh! Oh!”
One of the man’s arms let go of his legs and that was all he needed. He used the man’s head as leverage to bring his knee up into the man’s face and he was suddenly too much of a pain for the man to want to keep close.
He landed on his feet. He was free.
But another man approached as the strong one wiped the blood from his face with his shirt, yelling obscenities.
Greyson checked his surroundings.
They had gained a large crowd, who mostly kept their distance. But several men had joined the scuffle, acting heroes for their wives. They were doing what they thought was right, but it couldn’t have been more wrong.
“Someone call 911!”
“I can’t! It’s not working!”
“Mine, too!”
“Give it up kid!”
He clutched his slingshot and slowly loaded it, backing away, prepared to sprint at any moment. Three shots. He’d get three before they got to him.
Buzz had joined them, his nose still streaked with blood. The short one holding busted glasses and the limping, tall one were approaching him, too. It was only the first Plurb he’d got in the head that was out for good, being carried away toward the first aid station.
He had definitely made a scene. Even a cop, mounted on a horse, had noticed the commotion from afar. He was now on a trot toward them.
“Just put the weapon down. You don’t want to get in more trouble than you’re already in,” the strong man said, still wiping at his face.
“I can’t!” Greyson shouted. “You have to let me go. I won’t shoot anybody if you just let me go!”
He wanted to scream at them, to warn them of what was to come, but Orion was still lurking in the crowd. And something told Greyson that if Emory found out that he’d told, somehow his deal would be void. If he trusted Emory to keep his word, he had to keep his.
“Put it down,” the strong one warned. “Or we’ll force it from you.”
He glanced at his watch. It was almost time. Greyson’s gaze shifted to the torches still surrounding them. At any moment…
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“Ladies and gentlemen! May I present to you, the next President of the United States…”
Sam and his father locked eyes behind the curtain and many words were silently said between them. This was a familiar ritual for them, and Sam loved it. He was the last thing his dad would be thinking about before he had to go win the world over.