by B. C. Tweedt
Pushing himself to his feet with a groan, Greyson gasped for breath, jogging and staggering toward the accident. Above him, Sammy and Nick were cheering and hugging – until Nick realized what he was doing.
But Jarryd was not cheering. He knelt over Oscar.
“No, no, no! Oscar, buddy, don’t die on me.”
The Russian’s bullet had left a red stain on the white bird’s feathers. Its eyes were blinking with pain, its beak squeaking a mournful squawk.
“No, no, no!” Jarryd leaned over the bird and hugged it close.
Greyson glanced back but felt no sympathy for the bird. It had served its purpose. He was on a mission, digging into the wooden mess covering the SUV.
“Sydney! I’m coming!”
He threw board after board away listening for signs of life over the sound of the still-humming engine.
“Greyson! We have to hurry,” Nick warned. “There’s more coming!”
-----------------------
The Russian had taken the unconscious Agent Murray’s radio and called in the last of their reinforcements. He then tried his crumpled door, but it was jammed against the debris. Turning to the kids in the back, he watched them try the door handles again – as if they would suddenly work. They feebly pounded on the windows and screamed for Greyson.
But when the boy in the red hat found them, they would be dead.
If he could only find the rear window control…
Chapter 24
Greyson could hear the pounding and muffled screams. She’s in there, alive! Working even harder, he climbed over a mound and pulled at the half-crumpled door. It opened an inch.
“Greyson!”
He could barely hear her over the sound of the water pouring over the broken mill.
“Sydney! I’m –I’m digging. I’ll get you out of here! Hold on!”
He pulled at the debris with ferocity, but there was one large beam that had fallen from the rafters and lodged itself against the door. Greyson yanked on it – it barely wiggled. He would have to clear more of the debris around it.
From the corner of his eye, Greyson saw a man climbing over the pile of debris toward them. It was Kip. He slid down to the car and instantly sided up to Greyson.
Pausing, a flood of anger boiling inside of him, Greyson could only manage a dripping accusation. “You used me. As bait.”
Seemingly ignoring him, Kip pulled at the rubble and grabbed the beam. “Wasn’t my choice, Nolan. Now we have to hurry. Ready?”
Greyson stiffened his lip, made sure Kip felt his glare, then snapped to the beam.
“Pull!”
With a mighty yank, Kip and Greyson pulled the beam a few more inches. Sydney could see out. She pushed at the door with both feet.
Soon, another person slid down next to them.
“C-c-can I help?” Liam asked, grabbing the beam.
Before they could try again, Jarryd also climbed down the pile of debris toward them, slipping on his butt as he did so.
“I think a nail just went into my left cheek, but I’m okay,” Jarryd said sarcastically. “At least my ostrich didn’t die; then it would be a lousy day.” He rolled his eyes.
“Pull, everyone, on three! One, two, three!”
With their combined strength, the beam barely budged.
“We need one more.”
“No, we don’t.”
Greyson turned to look at Jarryd. He pumped his chin at him. “Get ready for this.”
He climbed over the beam, set his back against the SUV, and propped his feet against the side of the beam. He was going to push with his legs.
“Gotcha. Alright. One, two, three!”
The four of them grunted and groaned. The beam creaked against the metal and the rubble shifted slightly – but it wasn’t enough.
“And…calf press!”
Jarryd screamed and the beam shifted six inches. His scream turning to a soft whine, Jarryd fell to the ground. “Blue…frickin…ribbon…baby!”
I love you, Jarryd.
Greyson flashed him a quick smile, but lunged for the door and was able to reach through the narrow gap. Sydney pressed herself into the gap, but she was still stuck.
“Kip, help!”
But Kip had left. He was scrambling around to the other side of the vehicle.
Sydney twisted and grabbed Greyson’s arms, and he yanked at her.
“Push!”
“Pull!”
“Ugghhh!”
Suddenly she popped free and fell into his arms.
For a moment they stared at each other, the pain and worry escaping their lungs, giving them a sudden peace. Breathing hard, it was all they could do to resist.
“Well, we are in Ye Old Mille.” She lunged for him and pressed her lips to his. His eyes lit up in a startle, but closed to relish the feeling. He never wanted it to stop…
“Help!”
Sam’s voice.
He’s in there?
“He’s got a gun!” Sam shouted.
Greyson peeked through and saw the window that separated the front and back seats slowly lowering. The Russian, with a wicked smile on his face, pressed the gun through the widening crack.
Greyson scrambled for his pack, but Sydney was on top of him. He shoved her off and grasped for the last ball. He can’t kill Sam! I need him! But he was too late. The Russian leveled the gun at the boy as he tried to press through the opening.
BAAAM! BAAAM!
NO!
The sound echoed in the enclosed place and Sam fell through the door’s opening onto Greyson. His eyes shown in panic and fear, glazed over from the gunshot.
Greyson kicked the door closed, pulled himself free from Sam and searched his shirt.
“Where were you hit? Where were you hit?”
The dress shirt had no holes or blood. Sam himself looked too stunned to answer. “I-uh-I don’t know. I don’t think I am.”
“Come on!” Kip yelled, suddenly coming up from the other side of the car with his gun drawn. “They’re both gone now. But there’re more coming.”
Kip killed them both.
Sam looked at Greyson, relieved. “Well, I guess your bodyguard could kill my bodyguard,” he muttered.
The group of them climbed out of the Mill’s debris and up to Kip’s SUV just as Sammy and Nick came sprinting around. “Must go faster!”
Suddenly more gunfire erupted.
“Get in!” Kip yelled as he ran to the front hood and leveled his gun toward the main concourse where the final white moving truck had emptied its troops. Some of the terrorists were rushing to take up position against the incoming police cars, whose sirens were getting louder; others were firing directly at Kip’s SUV, pelting it with lead.
Greyson shoved Sydney in first and then Jarryd and Liam. Sam tried to climb in next, but Greyson grabbed him and pulled him to the side. Not you.
Nick gave Greyson a skeptical look but climbed in next. Sammy was last, still holding his nut bag like a small child.
“What are you doing?” Sam asked as Greyson pinned him to the side of the vehicle.
“Get in!” Kip shouted, firing two more shots into a terrorist attempting to flank them.
Greyson glared at the boy, again confronted with two options. Could he salvage the mess he had created? Could he still give Emory want he wanted or was the deal broken beyond fixing?
“Greyson.” Sydney scolded from the inside. “He’s the key.”
Greyson sneered at him, taking one last moment to think.
He was the key. Whatever the terrorists were up to, they needed Sam to do it. But Dad…
“Greyson! Now!”
Fine!
“Get in!” He pulled on Sam’s shirt and pushed him inside; then he opened the front passenger door and swung himself in.
Kip fired a few more shots and then sprinted around to the front of the car. He pulled open the driver’s door just as bullets smacked into its metal.
Two cop cars came flying in from a
side street and the officers jumped out, guns drawn. Kip eyed them, then, deciding they were friendlies, fired his last rounds at the terrorists.
But those are the same cops…
“Nooooo!”
The cops opened fire on Kip. The impacts pounded his body, flinging him against the driver’s seat. His gun dropped from his hand, and he fell to his knees on the concrete outside.
“Kip!”
For a moment, Kip’s dazed eyes landed on Greyson’s. And in that moment, he wanted to tell Greyson so much – to ask for forgiveness and to tell him how proud he was of him. And what he knew about his father. But most of all, to apologize for his mother. But he only had one last breath. He had to make it count.
“Go!”
Kip slammed the door shut and collapsed to the ground.
More bullets hit the window, shredding it into cracks.
Greyson hesitated, the emotion welling in him. He heard himself screaming, but the screams of his friends shook him into action.
“Go-o-o!”
“Get us out of here!”
“They’re coming!”
He scrambled into the drivers’ seat and turned the keys in the ignition. The engine started, but Greyson eyed all the levers and buttons with a frantic, failing memory. What do I do?
“Reverse! Reverse!”
Sydney reached from behind and pushed the door locks just in time. The cops tried the door, and failing, backed away, plastering the car with more bullets.
BAMcrackBAMcrackBAMcrackBAMcrack!
Greyson found the gear stick and pushed at the button as he pulled it toward the “R”. It didn’t budge.
“Hit the brake!” Nick shouted.
His short legs stretched for the pedals and pressed. The engine roared to life, but they didn’t go anywhere. Wrong one. He tried the other pedal just as Nick reached up to pull the stick into reverse. The gears clunked.
BAMcrackBAMcrackBAMcrack!
“Now hit it!”
The SUV jerked backward and flew. Too fast. It was headed straight for another building.
“Brake!”
Greyson slammed on the other pedal, and they skidded to a stop. Now the cops were in front of them, reloading.
And then he saw them. The four remaining Plurb children were behind the cops. They had exited from the back of the police cars.
Orion walked over to where Kip was lying on his side. His legs were still moving. He seemed to be reaching for another gun he kept by his ankle.
But Orion had seen it. He stood over Kip and drew the pistol. Glancing toward Greyson’s vehicle – he smirked and fired.
Kip’s body went limp.
“Forward! Get out of here!”
The cops fired again, this time aiming at the tires.
BANG! Hissssssss.
The front left tire burst and the second followed.
Nick slipped the gear into drive and Greyson punched the accelerator. The massive vehicle wasn’t the easiest thing he’d driven, especially having to stretch for the pedals, but he managed to swing them around, avoiding the debris of the first white moving truck, and sped toward the campgrounds. The flat tires pulled him in every direction as he gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, but they were on their way.
As the violence grew softer behind them, the sound of the slapping tires thunking on the street grew rhythmic, the only sound besides their own thoughts.
Those in the back watched the sirens fade behind them, the adrenaline still flowing through their racing hearts.
Nick crawled up next to Greyson. “Keep going, man. Doing good.”
Greyson nodded, but the sobbing was choking him. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. Kip. Why Kip? No. No!
“We can’t think about it right now, okay?” Nick said calmly. “They’ll still be after us. We’re almost safe, but not yet. Get us safe, first, okay? You’ll take your first right after the gate.”
Taking a deep breath, Greyson focused on the road. Nick is right. He couldn’t think about it right now. Put Kip out of mind. Put everything out of mind until they are safe.
“Okay. Thanks,” Greyson said, sniffing and trying to breathe normally. “First right. We have to get out of here.”
“We have to find our parents,” Jarryd demanded.
“We can’t,” Greyson replied, taking deep breaths. “The terrorists will be after Sam. He’s the key. Wherever we take Sam, they will go. We can’t bring the terrorists to our parents.”
Greyson mentally slapped himself, his lips tense in self-hate. I should have left him behind. They’d have what they wanted and we’d be free to go. But again, he’d waffled – hesitated, and it could cost them everything.
Jarryd eyed the rest of the group, huddled together in the back. “Then what do we do?”
Greyson shared a look with Nick. “I…I’m working on that.”
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Orion watched the SUV shrink toward the campground entrance with mixed emotions. They’d let them get away, but they would have sweet revenge soon enough.
“Get in! You’re under arrest!” The cop laughed and pressed Orion’s head down as the last of the Plurb children were put into the cop car. The sirens of the real police were blaring as they cautiously approached. They were coming from all directions now, but they had better things to do than to check for fake police. They’d get out just fine. As for the others dressed in ridiculous camo and ready to die for the cause…
“They won’t get far,” Orion assured the others. “Not on those tires.”
“Right,” Buzz agreed, gingerly touching his red, swollen nose. “But why aren’t we chasing?”
“It’s best we all just get out of here. We start chasing with all these real cops around, someone might catch on to us. But my Dad will get ‘em.” He turned and smiled toward the campgrounds. “Besides. Where can they go? He’s got a stinking tracker in his back.”
Chapter 25
With one last turn, the kids had made it out of the maze of motor homes, trucks, and emergency vehicles. The metal wheels of what had been Kip’s SUV were grinding on the street, loud and obnoxious. Grinding on the dirt roads had not drawn much attention, but now every head turned to see them bleed into the side streets of Des Moines, on the vehicle’s last leg.
People had flooded out of their homes – whether motorized or not – to watch the refugees pour from the fair. Some people offered immediate assistance, taking victims into their homes and giving them water and medical attention, and some had rushed into the fairgrounds to help those who hadn’t escaped. It wasn’t pretty or the least bit organized, but the people were doing their best.
Their vehicle had crawled through the thickest part of it with them gaping out their windows and honking their horn to get the crowds to disperse. They’d even seen the destruction of the bathhouse. It was near their assigned plot, but they had hoped their families’ RVs were too far away to be involved. Greyson couldn’t help but to fear that his mother’s or Sydney’s parents RV had been similarly attacked.
But why had the terrorists attacked out here? It didn’t make any sense. Perhaps the collapse of nine RVs had been a terrible accident.
Liam sat quietly in the back, eyeing the wreckage. Several firemen and civilians were searching for victims underneath the tangled rubble, but Liam knew that at least one hadn’t made it. He had run across Kip as he found her.
He couldn’t tell Greyson yet. This is not a good time. He saw a body being pulled from one of the RVs and an amateur photographer taking snapshots of it. But when will be a good time?
“We have to find somewhere to hide, and quick,” Greyson said as they continued to send sparks from their wheels like some war-torn Fourth of July parade float.
The kids scanned the quaint suburban neighborhood lined with small homes with tiny, green yards. During the fair, some families had converted their yards into makeshift parking lots, their signs stuck into the ground advertising parking for fifteen or twenty doll
ars. The parking lots had been partially emptied, but stragglers were still showing up looking for their cars like long-gone sojourners returning home. Now, outside every home, someone had stepped out into the street or porch to take a peek at the smoke rising from the fairgrounds.
It was too busy for them to hide here.
Jarryd leaned forward and tapped Greyson on the shoulder, near where he remembered the tracker to be. “You remember this thing, right? Maybe we should go faster.”
Greyson nodded. “I remember. There’s something we got to do first.”
“There!” Nick shouted, pointing. “One block down! It’s a ‘For Sale’ sign I think. If the house is for sale, maybe it’s empty!”
Sure enough, Greyson saw it, too. “That would work.” He turned for a second toward the others behind him. “Hey!” he shouted, startling the stunned load of kids from their shell-shocked daydreams. “Anybody’s cell phone work yet?”
Those that carried them checked.
“Uh…nope.”
“Not yet.”
“Negative.”
“No bars.”
“Alright,” Greyson said pulling into the driveway and shifting it into park. He paused for a second, thinking to himself. His conscience was still battling with his logic, but it was losing. Licking his dry lips and taking in a deep breath, he turned to the group.
Their downcast, dirty faces made him pause. Rubbing his eyes and taking another breath, he gave them a moment to come to his attention. “Listen. This is how it’s going to work,” he started calmly. “Sam, you’re coming with me. Everyone else, stay in the car. If you see them coming, Nick, you walkie me, then you all split up and run. Anywhere, everywhere – in all directions. They’re not after you. Got it?”
The boys nodded, admiring the bruises and streaked soot on his face. Sydney arched her eyebrows. “But Sam…”
“He’s the key, Sydney. We’re hiding him. Just like at Morris.”
And with that, he opened his door and ran to the house. Sam and Sydney shared a look, but Sam nodded. “I think he’s right. I’ll be okay.”
His door closed behind him before Sydney could respond.
The house’s front door was locked, but the side door was out of public view. Greyson took a step back and kicked it open. Satisfied, he gave a sly smile to Sam.