by Chad Morris
“When I sensed that things were getting dicey,” Ms. Entrese continued, “I made up an excuse to quit. I was a lower member of the team, not essential. He let me go without question, but I believe I am still being watched, especially since I ended up teaching here.”
“Have you told my grandfather any of this?” Derick asked.
“Yes,” she said. “But I had no evidence, just suspicions. When Mr. Cragbridge hired me, he advised me to be cautious. In fact, it was his idea that I teach English so it would look like I was no longer interested in science. And he suggested that I put on an act—that I be distant and even critical of him and those most supportive of him.”
“That’s why you were mean to my sister,” Derick suggested.
“Yes. My actions and attitude would keep anyone from thinking that I consorted with those who may oppose Muns. And yes, I believe Muns has people who report to him, even here.”
That was nothing new. Derick knew someone had been trying to stop them—someone working for Muns—but he had thought it was Ms. Entrese. “But when your sister was in the Chair in my class, I saw her picture a locket. I had seen one before; I noticed it on someone here at the school that I’m sure your grandfather trusts. I knew that they must be important somehow, part of some sort of contingency plan. But I thought Abby had only mistakenly seen one while with your grandfather.
“I became extra vigilant, walking the grounds, looking for anything suspicious. I don’t want Muns to succeed in whatever he is planning. I started working for him to discover something amazing, not to hurt people or steal secrets.”
Was she telling the truth? All her information seemed to fit. And she had tipped them off to Muns.
“Then I saw the avatar climb into Watchman Tower,” Ms. Entrese continued. “Knowing Rafa was the teacher’s assistant, I confronted him.” She looked over at Rafa. “He was very loyal to you. In fact, he covered up quite well. But I hounded him. Eventually, I told him that if this had anything to do with the lockets that whoever was behind it needed to know about Muns. I told him of my suspicions that Muns was behind the kidnappings, and I asked him to warn whoever he needed to that Muns would oppose whatever they were planning. I had already warned the other professor I had seen, and sent an anonymous tip to the police. But I expected Rafa would be warning another teacher, not kids.”
No one ever expected kids. But Grandpa was different. Derick thought back to how Grandpa had trusted him with a locket. He felt stronger, almost bigger somehow, thinking of the amount of trust his grandfather had in him. But he was still confused. He looked at Rafa. “So, why is she here?”
“We need a way off campus, and teachers can come and go as they please,” Rafa said.
“Are you willing to help us?” Derick asked.
Ms. Entrese covered her eyes with her palms then rubbed her temples. “Doing so will show my hand to any of Muns’s men watching me. It will be clear that I’ve sided against him—very dangerous. But if he has threatened the lives of Oscar Cragbridge’s son and daughter-in-law, and is holding him captive, I don’t see how I can turn a blind eye and live with myself.”
“You can get us off campus, but how are we going to take care of any men guarding my grandpa?” Derick asked. “And that’s assuming we find the right place.”
For one of the first times, Derick saw Rafa smile.
• • •
Abby stepped into the simulator determined and terrified. She had to do this, and she had to do it soon. She just hoped it wouldn’t be a bear. She wanted to close her eyes, but was too scared.
In an instant, she was sitting in a canoe, floating down a river. Grassy mounds surrounded the water, with wildflowers scattering color through the view. Rocky mountains weren’t far away, and trees poked out of the ground in groups.
She floated for a while, staring at the beautiful countryside. How could such a place be the environment for a trying situation? Was this what Derick had seen before the bear attacked him? Probably not. Unless a bear caught her by surprise, she would probably be able to get away.
Abby heard someone close by clear their throat. She whirled around to see someone else in the canoe with her! She almost sprang into the water before she realized that the man was gazing at the surroundings too. He must be her traveling companion.
“Falling asleep up there, Colter?” he asked.
Colter? Who was he talking to? It took a second for Abby to realize that in the simulator, she must be standing in as someone named Colter.
“Yeah,” she said, sure he’d be surprised by her girl voice. But the man didn’t seem to even notice. Maybe that was part of the simulator. Abby tried to think of something a mountain man would say. “Fatigue got the best of me. Won’t happen again.”
The man laughed. “You act like we haven’t been traveling together since Lewis and Clark.” He cleared his throat. “Now let’s check for more beaver.”
Abby looked at the floor of the canoe, where several dead beavers lay. Apparently, she and her friend were checking their traps.
A noise echoed along the river. It sounded like hundreds of animals trampling through the wild. This had to be it—her terrifying moment. Abby looked in every direction, but she couldn’t see anything other than the tall banks beside the water.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said, knowing that something terrible was coming, or she wouldn’t be there.
“Why? Because of a few animals? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a coward,” the man said.
“I’m not a coward, but sometimes it’s wise to get away.” Abby looked around carefully, her heart beating faster. She craned her neck, trying to survey the land. She noticed every tree that swayed, every shrub that shook. In only moments, she saw an arrow pointed at her through the trees—and a Native American behind it.
Abby pointed at the Native American as if to warn her companion, but she didn’t need to. She saw another native and another. They came out of hiding and lined the banks, all at the ready to attack.
Her companion cursed and then mumbled, “Blackfeet. Been wanting to get them back since our injuries at Fort Raymond. But it looks like today is not my day.”
The tall banks gradually leveled out to a landing where grassy mounds and rocks approached the river. Brave after brave arrived at the shoreline—hundreds of them, all threatening. Abby felt lightheaded and started to breathe faster. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths to calm down. This wasn’t real. She could leave at any time. But she had to keep going to find her parents and Grandpa.
Several Native Americans made large, arching gestures with their hands, urging Abby and the man to come ashore. Abby didn’t know what else to do, so she paddled toward the army of Blackfeet.
The first brave to meet Abby pointed his arrow in her face and gestured for her to step out of the boat. She obeyed, her legs trembling, and stumbled onto the grass.
The braves also motioned for the man behind Abby in the canoe to come ashore. He didn’t budge. They motioned several more times, but the man held his gun and pushed the canoe back into the water. Abby heard the whiz of an arrow; it lodged in the man’s shoulder.
“Colter, I’m wounded,” he cried.
“Come back in,” Abby said, gesturing for her friend to row back to shore. He refused and instead aimed his rifle and fired back. A brave fell to the ground.
Abby turned to look at the dead brave as she heard countless swooshes cut through the air. She didn’t turn back to the water to look, but heard a thunk. She knew the man on the boat had been riddled with arrows and had fallen hard against the wood canoe. Her heart felt heavy and seemed to pull at her throat. Her stomach churned inside her. The man had to be dead. She looked back. Colter’s friend lay lifeless in the canoe.
Abby always knew things like this had happened, but she’d never realized how hard it would be. It was dangerous and heart-wrenching. She wondered why the man wouldn’t come ashore. He said that he had fought the Blackfeet before. Had he kno
wn that something worse than arrows was waiting?
Abby felt arms grab her thick coat. They pulled her farther inland and threw her to the ground. The hands pulled her pouch and canteen from her shoulder and waist. They yanked the coat off her shoulders. She felt her hardened leather boots pulled from her feet. She rolled over only to see more arrows loaded in taut bows.
Abby sat on the ground feeling terrified and exposed. She watched as several braves counseled together. They had to be discussing what to do with her. Though she couldn’t understand their words, she was able to piece together that some of them wanted to set her up as a target and let the braves see who was the most accurate. She imagined what it might be like for hundreds of arrows to hit her all at once. But the man who looked to be the chief walked over and lifted Abby up off the ground.
He spoke loudly and with authority. He seemed to be speaking something close to English, asking her a question, but Abby struggled to comprehend it. The only words she understood were run and fast. She shook her head no. She’d run track for several years, but she wouldn’t consider herself that fast, especially running from a group of warriors.
The chief cocked his head to one side, and Abby thought she saw the hint of a smile. The chief turned to the party and made some kind of announcement. Abby heard the word run again. The braves took off their pouches and canteens. They set their bows and arrows on the ground and picked up spears. The chief held up his hand for them to stay where they were.
He led Abby forward. The men who had been guarding her joined the others. The chief walked with Abby over the hard soil for another three or four hundred yards. She was glad her feet felt calloused, at least somewhat prepared for the terrain.
Finally, the chief stopped. He looked Abby in the eyes and spoke slowly. Somehow, Abby could understand nearly every word.
“Run. Save yourself if you can.”
The chief pounded his staff on the ground and gave out a shrill holler, and Abby heard a cacophonous roar—the screams of hundreds of braves. The war whoop echoed through the area, but Abby didn’t dare turn around. She took off. She had no idea where she was going, other than away from the hundreds of braves chasing her. She could hear the muffled thunder of their feet.
Abby pushed over the hard ground, trying to find her stride. She hit something prickly with one foot. It felt like several wasps had stung her foot at once, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop; she ran for her life.
When Abby raced during school, she used to imagine that she was running in the Olympics, or that some little girl was secretly watching and wanted to be like her. If her imagination was vivid enough, she could find energy she didn’t know she had. She had no need to imagine anything now.
If she got out of this, from here on, she would just have to picture this moment to spark that extra length and speed out of her legs.
She knew the braves were coming up on her, and she knew what they would do if they caught her. But if she died in the simulator, would it mean she’d forfeited her opportunity to finish her grandfather’s challenge? It had to. She’d let down her parents and her grandfather. She couldn’t do that. Abby pushed forward, wanting to scream, but not daring to spend the energy. She willed her legs to push harder off the ground, to propel her forward a little more, a little faster.
Abby watched the brush go by, surprised at how fast she was able to go. She dared hope that her effort would be enough. Whoever the Colter guy was, he’d survived this. It was possible; she just had to figure out how to repeat it.
After nearly half a mile across a plain, she hazarded a glance over her shoulder. She felt both relief and panic at the same time. The hundreds of braves running behind her had scattered, many falling behind. She’d outrun the majority. Maybe she could survive.
But one brave, moving fast and clutching a spear, was no more than a hundred yards behind her. He was gaining on her.
Abby concentrated, pushing herself harder. Her legs screamed as she went forward. All at once, she tasted something salty, something wet. There it was again. She lifted her hand to her mouth and pulled it away—blood. She’d pushed herself too hard, and her body was letting her know it. Abby didn’t want to look back—the brave would be closer. She was already at her peak and didn’t know how long she could keep it up. She spat blood to the side as she strode on.
Colter had survived. Whatever he did had worked. What did he do? If only she knew his history. But maybe she could guess. He must have run, and he must have pushed himself so hard that he would have started bleeding too. It was his pain she was feeling, right? He was a big mountain-man type. He was strong and bold. Maybe he could last longer than she could. Abby pushed forward. Blood dripped onto her shirt.
She ran and ran. She must have been nearly a mile away from the river, and had she been a little more relaxed, she would have realized that it was her best sprinting time ever. Of course, had she been a little more relaxed, it wouldn’t have been her best time.
Then Abby heard the last sound she wanted to hear: footsteps. The brave was near. She expected to feel his spear drive into her back at any moment. She glanced over her shoulder. The brave was less than twenty yards away, spear raised.
28
The Finish Line
Rafa and Derick pushed a large box on a dolly toward the elevator chute. Derick could already feel the strain on his muscles, though they had only pushed the box down one hall and into the next.
“What are you moving, boys?” a voice called out.
Derick turned around to see a group of girls following them down the hall.
“Nothing really,” Derick said.
“Really?” another girl asked. “Why are you struggling so hard to push ‘nothing’?”
“Yeah,” another agreed. “You’d think ‘nothing’ would be really light. Plus, why don’t you use a robotic dolly? Then you wouldn’t have to work at all.”
“We wanted the exercise.” Derick was secretly glad for the work. He had a good excuse for his heart to be racing. Otherwise, his hammering heartbeat might have given him away. If anyone discovered what he was smuggling in the box, it was all over.
“Can we see this ‘nothing’?” a brunette asked.
“No,” Derick said.
“Sorry, meninas,” Rafa said. “We’re kind of in a hurry.”
“You might be able to refuse them, but not me,” a deeper voice said. It was a woman Derick hadn’t seen before, but by her professional pantsuit and hairstyle from 2052, he knew she was either a teacher or an administrator. “It is rather odd that two boys are pushing a box this size through Cragbridge Hall at this time of night.”
Derick and Rafa both stopped cold. Derick spoke up. “We’re just moving some things for Ms. Entrese. You know, trying to give back for our great educational opportunities here.”
The teacher opened the top of the box and looked inside. She then looked back at the boys, and into the box again. “Why are you moving a huge box of hardbound books?”
“Ms. Entrese wants to take them home,” Rafa explained. “She’s checking out a van now, and we’re supposed to meet her behind the building.”
“I think she wants to see if she can auction them off online—get some extra cash or something,” Derick said. He felt grateful that Ms. Entrese shared his grandpa’s love for actual books and had them around for an occasion like this.
The administrator looked at the boys one more time. “Are you two serving detention?”
Rafa and Derick looked at one another. Derick tried to look guilty, which wasn’t hard—he felt guilty.
The girls laughed.
“Hurry along, then,” the teacher said. “I’ll open the back door for you.”
He was sure she wanted to check out their story with Ms. Entrese. Derick and Rafa pushed the box farther down the hall. The girls followed, probably waiting to see the boys get busted.
As they approached the back door, the administrator raised her hand to the scanner, and it opened.
“Oh, Vice Principal Fowers,” Ms. Entrese said, looking the administrator in the face. “I see you’ve found my two detention slaves.” Derick was impressed; she didn’t look suspicious at all.
“I see you’re maintaining discipline as well as always,” Fowers said. “But you may want to reconsider selling these books. Perhaps one of those museum/libraries would want them.”
Ms. Entrese flicked her finger, and the back door of the van opened. “I haven’t decided what to do with them yet,” she said. “But I’ve got to get them out of my office. It’s getting too cluttered in there.”
Derick and Rafa pushed the dolly down a ramp. Both grunted as they lifted the box into the van.
“Now go get the second box,” Ms. Entrese said. “And I purposely made it several times heavier than the first.”
Fowers smiled. “Carry on, Minerva.”
Derick walked by Rafa as he pulled the dolly back up the hall. The girls giggled as they passed. One of them said, “Enjoy detention, boys.”
Neither Derick nor Rafa minded at all.
• • •
The brave would launch his spear soon—and guessing how much practice Native Americans had hunting, he probably wouldn’t miss unless Abby did something drastic.
Another stream of blood hit her chin and dripped down her neck. She must look terrible. But it gave her an idea.
It was insane, but it was all she could come up with. Abby stopped running and turned around. She wanted to be able to see the spear coming, or at the very least, fight the brave one on one. Maybe she’d have Colter’s strength.
The brave’s eyes went big. He must not have expected his prey to stop so abruptly—and he probably didn’t expect her to be splattered with blood, either. She might even be intimidating. Abby threw her arm forward as if she, too, had a spear to throw. He veered to one side to dodge what he thought was an attack. But as he shifted his weight to one side, the mix of momentum, exhaustion, and surprise threw him off balance. His spear drove into the ground as the brave fell, and it snapped in two against his body.