What happened next caught me by surprise. In the blink of an eye, sheer chaos erupted. Motorcycles began crashing into trees. Others plowed into briar bushes. Riders screamed as the thorns ripped into their faces. Still others whipped around and slid sideways in the dust. Two bikers, trying to avoid a collision, veered off the trail and hurtled right off a cliff. Others rode headlong into boulders, catapulting their bikes high into the air. As the howling operators became separated from their bikes, they slammed into fellow gang members roaring in behind them.
It looked like a game of high stakes dominoes as a dozen vehicles and drivers collided. It was sheer pandemonium. I couldn’t believe it. No one was left upright. All I could see was a heap of spinning wheels, smoking engines, and . . . and some very angry demons.
That’s right. From the top of that rocky hogs back, I watched the bikers tear off their helmets. The grotesque monsters underneath shook me to the core. Some had warts, some were covered with hair, others looked slimy with either spots or stripes. Some of them stood upright while others crawled on all fours. One had a tail like a scorpion and so many legs it resembled a centipede. Others had huge horns and weird tumors growing not only out of their mouths and heads but from their appendages as well. Several faces sported pig-like noses and large fangs that jutted up from their lower jaws.
And gaudy. I had no idea that demons came in such ghastly colors, some red, others blue, purple, chartreuse, and even fushia.
True to their kind, they were all very angry. They roamed around groaning and cussing as they picked themselves up out of the dirt. They didn’t know what hit them. A little bit of dirt and in ten seconds they are a pile of junk. The truth was, I didn’t know what happened either. I had just pulled off a blitzkrieg and didn’t have a clue how I did it. But you have to know, I was definitely relieved.
“Oo-yeah!” I squeaked, punching the air with my fist. Then, without warning, Dave Dimmerwitz appeared roaring full blast up the side of the bluff straight toward me.
“Dang, you rat! How could the dust have missed you? And you were the main target.” I retreated to the back side of the bluff and slid down the slope. But the moment my feet hit the grass, I heard Dave’s bike sputtering around the rock to meet me. I looked frantically for a place to hide.
Then from behind me, a large sweaty hand clamped over my mouth. A second hand wrenched my right arm behind my back. Then my feet got kicked out from under me and I was hauled behind a clump of bushes into darkness.
CHAPTER 30: THE HIDE-OUT
“Secrets between friends should remain just that: secrets” ~Martin Moonglow I could neither move nor speak. Dazed, I listened to my captor’s heavy breathing while the sound of the motor bike faded into the distance.
Then a muffled voice growled in my ear, “You should’ve come alone, Barry.”
It was Chad. I recognized his voice in an instant. I struggled to get away but Chad’s grip was strong. Then I remembered a move he taught me. I forced myself to go limp. The weight of my body broke his hold just long enough for me to roll forward and away from his grasp.
I leapt to my feet and backed away.
“Of all the . . . !” I choked out. “Of course I came alone, Dork-brain! What-a-ya take me for? How was I to know Dimmerwitz and his thugs were in the neighborhood?”
“That was Dimmerwitz?” He sounded surprised. “Well! Then I probably just saved your skinnyhide. He’s always had it in for you, hasn’t he?”
I dusted myself off. “Yeah. But why do you always have to be so physical? You could have just whistled or something.”
Chad kicked a rock. “Sorry, ‘kay? I had to act quick. Didn’t want to take any chances that the guy on the motorcycle would see where our cave was, that’s all.”
I looked around. “But this isn’t our cave,” I said. “Where are we?”
“It’s a new entrance I just found,” Chad said. “I was exploring it when I heard all that rumble from the bikers. I didn’t know those guys were chasing you until I heard you yell. Follow me. I’ll show you where it leads.”
As I dusted myself off, Martin spoke in my ear. “Master Barry, that was impressive. How did you do that?”
I let Chad go ahead of me enough so that I could answer Martin. “I dunno,” I whispered. “Pretty weird, huh? It’s like that dust blinded them or something.”
“More than just ‘something,’ Barry,” said Martin. “That dust you tossed made something a whole lot bigger happen.”
“Maybe,” I said under my breath, “But here’s the kicker. I sawthe demons that controlled the gang. I mean, what’s that all about?”
“We need to talk,” said Martin.
“I know, but not right now, okay? Chad will think I’ve gone whoop-de-doo if he catches me talking to thin air,” I whispered. I started to walk more quicklyto keep Chad’s flashlight beam in sight along the twisted passageway.
“True,” said Martin. “We’ll talk later.”
Making my way along the tunnel, I saw a second light up ahead. It was the hideout cave. Today, Chad had a hurricane lamp burning in it. Somehow, entering from this new angle made the cave seem bigger, more open.
It was clear to me that Chad had put some thought into his stay up here. Besides the lamp, he had a small cooler with food and soda pop, a lawn chair recliner, a sleeping bag, extra blankets, even a pillow. His clothes were tucked into a carry-all in the corner. All would have looked quite homey if it hadn’t been for the Glock 19 lying on a box near the door. The sight of the gun turned my stomach.
“Chad, what’s going on? This is crazy!” I said.
“You’d do the same if you found out your dad was a spy,” said Chad, his face sullen.
“Chad . . . .” I threw up my hands. “I can’t believe you would ever use a gun on your dad.”
“No, but I might on the guys that are with him.”
I shook my head and sat down on a rock. “So, how much do you know about your father?”
“Enough.”
“Right. So you know more about him than the military does, is that it?” I asked. I hated to pick a fight with my best friend, but I didn’t know what else to do.
“The militarydoesn’t know diddly-squat,” muttered Chad.
“What level clearance does your dad have?” I queried.
“I dunno.”
“You don’t know!” I croaked. “Chad, even a non-military person like me knows that the rank of colonel in any unit must have a security clearance up the wazoo!”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Chad. “He’s still a spy.” Then he turned on me and shouted, “I can’t live under the same roof with an enemy of the state!”
“Whoa, Chaddo! Why are you getting’ sore at me?” I chided. I was so bummed out that I just sat there for a full minute. Talk about enemies. You are your own worst enemy, Chad.
Then I had an idea. “Look, Chad,” I said, “Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that your dad really is a spy. Mind you, I don’t buy it for a minute, but let’s think this through. If your father is a spy, shouldn’t he be watched carefully? Shouldn’t you get as close to him as you canso you can follow his every move?”
As Chad stared into the fireplace, he reminded me of a wadded up T-shirt. He took a deep breath and said. “I hardly ever see my dad. You know that. How can I follow his every move if I never see him?”
“You’re smart, Buddy. You’ll figure out a way.”
“Yeah? Well, I feel like an idiot right now,” he mumbled.
I rolled my eyes. Yeah-huh. Chad the ignoramus—with a 4.0 average nearly every quarter.
“Look,” I said. “You’ll bounce back. You’ve just had a big shock, is all. ”
Chad sat there sullenly. “If my dad really is a spy, I don’t think I could stand it!”
“Look, Chad,” I said. “You’re not the first kid who suspects his dad is working on the wrong side of the law. But look around. You’ll never find out one way or the other if you’re holed up here in this mountain. Man, you don’t
even have a computer.” Chad didn’t answer. Then I added, “Chad, your country needs you. You’re a wizard at surfing the web. You can find out all sorts of things. Your dad won’t be able to hide everything from you forever. Sooner or later he’ll make a mistake. Either way, you gotta get out and face it like a man.”
Chad stood up and started pacing the cave, dust kicking up from his boots. “I guess you’re right. But why did it have to be my own father?” I took a deep breath but this time I held my tongue. I didn’t want to overplay my hand.
Chad stopped pacing and looked at me. “You got any bright ideaswhat I’m going to say to him?”
I thought for a minute then said, “Chad, secret agents have to play many roles in order to get information. In your case, you’re just going to have to pretend to be an obedient son so your dad doesn’t get suspicious. Think you can do that?”
He pulled at his lip several times, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”
I looked around the cave. “I think we should just leave this stuff for another day. Maybe we can pack it out this weekend. We need to get off this mountain before the sun goes down.”
“Yeah. You’re right,” he muttered.
With that decision behind him, Chad found his voice again. “Man, Barry, you wouldn’t believe how creepy it was up here last night. It was really cold and . . . and all kinds of weird noises. Nothin’ like our nights up here last summer.”
I stared at Chad and, from my ear, Martin spoke. “That’s what I mean, Master Barry. Something evil is afoot up here. You’ve got to get Chad off this mountain, and it needs to be right now.”
“Okay, Martin,” I answered in a low voice. “You lead the way.”
CHAPTER 31: OUT OF THE FRYING PAN . . .
“There are times when a gift feels more like a liability.” ~Martin Moonglow We plunged down the mountain not even trying to stay on the trail. We had long discovered that by sliding down embankments and slicing across the switch backs we could cut our descent time in half. So in no time we emerged onto the road. I ran ahead to Lupita’s house, hopped up the steps, and knocked on the door. Mr. Sanchez answered it.
“Yes? May I help you?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. My name is Barry Klutzenheimer and this is Chad Sorenson. We go to school with Lupita. We were wondering if we could use your phone for a few minutes.”
“Sure t’ing! I ‘member you, Barry,” said Mr. Sanchez, beaming. “B’ery sad to hear about your papa. Use the phone? Si! No problema! Lupita, she tell me you might come by sometime. Come in, come in!” He waved us inside.
We were greeted by two dogs, three cats, and a wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen.
Lupita ran into the room. “Hi Barry!” she said with her bright smile. Nodding to Chad she added, “Right this way. The telephone is in the kitchen.”
When I saw steaming food on the table, I realized that we had interrupted the family dinner hour.
“Oh. Sorry to bother you at meal time,” I said. “As soon as we make this call we’ll be out of your hair.”
Lupita went over to a little round woman standing by the kitchen counter. “Barry, this is my mom,” she said. “She doesn’t speak a lot of English, but she’s the best enchilada cook in the world. You should try some!”
“Well, thank you,” I said, “I need to make this phone call first, though. Okay?”
I dialed Chad’s home number and Colonel Sorenson answered. “Mr. Sorenson? Chad’s here and he’s ready to come home now.” The colonel asked for the address, and hung up in less than thirty seconds.
Lupita repeated her invitation. “Come on and eat dinner with us,” she said. “There are lots of enchiladas. My mom always cooks for an army.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Chad drooling over the delicious smelling food.
“Well, if you’re sure your folks don’t mind,” I said.
“I’m positive. We’re used to lots of people around the table. In my family, we always have a couple of cousins or uncles staying with us at least half the year. I don’t think my mom knows how to cook for less than ten.” She laughed. At that moment, Mr. Sanchez came into the kitchen and waved us to take a seat.
“Sit, sit! We eat, si?” When Chad and I pulled our chairs up the dining table, Mr. Sanchez smiled with satisfaction.
“I’m afraid we don’t have a lot of time,” I said. “Chad’s father is coming to pick us up in about fifteen minutes.”
“That’s plenty time to have at least four enchiladas!” Lupita said, sitting across from me. Again, I found myself staring at her. I was so deep in la-la-land that I almost stuck my finger into the enchilada dish.
A wave of panic swept over me. I gotta get out of here! This girl is turning me into a total goofball.
But the enchiladas were heavenly. The truth was, we were famished. I had worked up an appetite after my harrowing experience that afternoon and Chad—Chad was just plain hungry.
“I’ve decided I’m a lousy cook,” he whispered to me. We grinned at each other. It was good to be enjoying a meal as friends again. But when a horn honked from out on the street, I looked over at Chad. His fork was frozen in mid-air, his eyes glassy. Good grief, Chad, you are really messed up.
I squeezed his arm then pushed myself away from the table.
“Thank you for the enchiladas, Mrs. Sanchez,” I said as I stoodup. “They were super good.” I grinned using what I hoped was my killer smile. “I hope you will excuse us,” I said to Lupita. “That’ll be Chad’s father so we have to go. Enjoyed seeing you, again, Mr. Sanchez,” I said. And your daughter.
Chad and I walked out to the car where Colonel Sorenson was waiting. Chad tried to get me to sit in the front seat, but I shook my head.
“Remember. Face it like a man,” I whispered.
“Yeah, right,” Chad muttered. “Captain America. That’s me.”
We settled into our seats expecting immediate words from the colonel but he was quiet for several minutes. After taking the car out onto the highway, he said, “Good to have you back, son. You gave us quite a scare.”
Chad gulped. “I know, sir. Sorry.”
There was more silence. Then the colonel spoke again.
“Still think I’m a spy, Chad?” he asked.
Chad stared straight ahead. “I don’t know, sir.”
The colonel nodded his head. “That’s a start.” Then as much to me as to Chad, he asked, “Are you boys hungry?”
“We just ate some enchiladas at the Sanchez house,” I answered.
Colonel Sorenson caught my eye in the rear view mirror. “Does that mean that you don’t even have room for ice cream?”
I grinned. “I don’t know about Chad, but I’m always ready for ice cream!”
With that, the colonel pulled into the closest dairy freeze shop. In no time, all three of us were tucking into hot fudge sundaes.
The conversation was bland for a while, until the Colonel asked, “You boys going to tell me where Chad’s been holed up all this time? Your mom was fit to be tied, son. You know how strung out she gets.”
Chad looked over at me and back to his father. Pursing his lips, he shook his head. “We can’t tell you sir,” he managed to squeak out.
The colonel studied him for a minute. Then he nodded. “All right. I can accept that. I can give you the benefit of the doubt there. In return, though, you might consider granting your old man the same favor.” I noted that Chad kept his eyes down.
The colonel went on. “Chad, there are many things about my job that I cannot tell anyone. It’s as much for your safety as it is for the security of my men carrying out the missions. The less you know the better. We all need to show some trust, don’t we?”
I watched Chad meet his father’s eyes for a brief moment. His wistful look tore at my gut. When we reached Chad’s house, his mother rushed out to wrap him in her arms. I knew he must be embarrassed with me standing nearby.
Then Mrs. Sorenson came over and gave me a big mushy hug too. �
�Oh, Barry! I can’t thank you enough! You brought my boy back!” I caught Chad watching me with sucked in cheeks and I felt my face go hot. I rolled my eyes.He’s wiggling his eyebrows at me, the renegade!I’ll pound him for this.
“Now you boys come on in,” Mrs. Sorenson said. “We have a visitor that Chad will remember from Hawaii. We just found out that his mother is a professor here at the same university where Barry’s dear father taught, God rest his soul.”
About the time we entered the family’s living room, my keeper, Martin, began talking really loud inside my ear. “Master Barry, just remember that evil spirits cannot read your mind. Keep that smile on your face at all costs.” I wiggled my finger inside my ear. Martin, you can be such a busybody at times.
When we entered the family room, Chad’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Daniel! How’d you get here!” he exclaimed.
A tall man strode over to Chad. He wore a multicolored shirt—obviously from Hawaii—open at the neck and khaki slacks neatly pressed. His hairstyle was the bed-head look with a slight Mohawk upsweep. With his cool, expensive looking watch he looked like he stepped out of a catalog. Add his bronze skin and handsome rock-star face and he reminded me of a walking, talking mannequin.
“Oh, I just stopped by to see my mom on my way to New York. Then I remembered that your family lived here in the same city.”
“Barry, come over here!” said Chad. “This is Daniel Marek, the neat guy we met in Hawaii. Daniel, this is my best friend, Barry Klutzenheimer. So, did you bring your wine colored BMW back with you?”
“Nope,” said the man. “Too much trouble to transport. When I got stateside, I just bought a new one. It’s the same color, but a newer model.” Turning to me he said, “What did you say your name was?”
“Barry. Barry Klutzenheimer,” I said.
“No kidding? I knew a dude in high school named Barry. Super name,” he said, reaching his hand out to me.
“Thanks,” I said.
But when I took Daniel’s hand, I found myself clutching instead . . . a massive dragon claw!
The Blood Jewel (The Shomara Diaries Book 1) Page 16