The dark shape on the far side of the car began to move. Peter saw a flash of blue jeans and an older, white face as the figure moved across the headlights toward the woods.
“I’m sorry if I scared you, kid.” He walked closer to Peter’s hiding place. “I just saw you run back away from the road and thought maybe you might need some help. Are you in trouble? You can tell me, and I’ll do whatever I can to fix it. It’s not safe for a kid to be out here all alone.”
Peter’s right knee began to ache from the effort of crouching down in the hiding spot. He didn’t understand why this guy was so eager to help and, more importantly, why Orb was so insistent that he hide. Wasn’t the whole point of being out here to get a ride?
Almost as if he were responding to Peter’s questions, Orb murmured softly in Peter’s head, “Stay still. Help is coming.”
Peter wanted to ask who exactly was coming when the thought was broken by the sound of a large truck quickly approaching. Peter could just make out the headlights of what was likely one of the eighteen-wheelers that ran up and down the main highway at all hours of the day. When the wind was right, Peter could hear the obnoxious sound of one of the huge trucks braking from all the way at the farm—a sound quite the opposite from the pleasing burble of the river.
The man in the car had turned to look at the truck as well. As its square headlights grew closer, Peter heard the sound of the engine brake being applied on the truck, which slowed considerably. In the wash of the approaching headlights, Peter could now better see the scowling face of the man. The light revealed stubble from several days without shaving and deep lines, almost crevices, around his mouth and eyes. The man did not look helpful. He looked angry.
The big truck pulled up just behind the parked car, creating another series of loud noises as it came to a complete stop on the gravel. The big rig seemed larger than life, which made it all seem even more strange when the door slammed shut and a small, thin figure crossed in front of the tall headlights.
Peter was still trying to figure out what this small driver looked like when a powerful flashlight clicked on and pointed its round beam directly at the driver of the car. The driver of the car held his palm out in front of his face, trying to shield his eyes from the flashlight’s beam.
“Good morning. Saw you pulled over and wanted to make sure you didn’t need some help. I’m Ellie.”
There was a pause. In the mix of the murky natural light offered by the first glimpse of sunrise, the headlights, and the flashlight, Peter saw the small woman, Ellie, extend her hand to the driver of the car—who made no effort to shake and continued to shield his eyes.
“I’m fine, thanks,” the driver of the car mumbled with no thanks in his voice. “Just stretching my legs a little. Would you mind getting that flashlight out of my face?”
Ellie immediately lowered the flashlight, but kept it trained on the car driver’s legs. “My apologies, friend. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and it’s not too smart to walk around this road in the dark these days. Lots of bad eggs out here.”
The car driver lowered his hand, ignored her still-outstretched hand, and again scowled. Peter did his best to slow his breathing as he hunched down in his hidden vantage point. The driver of the car seemed focused on Ellie’s large, metal flashlight—the kind of flashlight used by police—the kind of flashlight that could also be used as a heavy club.
The car driver mumbled only, “Um.”
Peter sensed that the car driver was nervous, perhaps even scared, of Ellie. She looked to be almost a foot shorter than the driver of the car, but something about her seemed much larger. She had a presence; an aura that exuded confidence.
“Where ‘ya headed, friend?” Ellie asked.
The car driver ignored her question and stared again into the woods. Peter felt his gaze and shivered again as his knee continued to register its complaints about all the crouching. The car driver shook his head slightly, then turned back to Ellie. “I’m just headed down the road a bit. I’m fine. You can go ahead and get going. I’m sure someone is waiting on whatever you’re hauling.”
“Oh, I made pretty good time last night, so I’m in no rush. I might stretch my legs for a bit too while I’m stopped.”
The flashlight showed the car driver shifting his weight from foot to foot, pondering his next move. Nothing was said for several awkward seconds before the foot shuffling ended and he started walking back to his car.
“I guess I’ll be going,” the car driver said loudly, frustration in his voice, and walked away.
“Okay. You have a nice day!” replied Ellie, as the beam of her flashlight followed him, then sat trained on what Peter could now see was an old green Chevy Nova. The driver got in, fired up the engine, and sped off down the road, bits of small rocks from the shoulder tossed about in his wake.
Both Ellie and Peter watched the car’s tail-lights rapidly disappear. Peter, from his spot in the woods, realized that he had been holding his breath and exhaled loudly—so loudly that Ellie turned and trained the beam of her flashlight on the woods that concealed him.
“You can trust her,” Orb said calmly.
“What was wrong with the other man?”
Orb did not immediately respond, as if he were gathering his thoughts. “That man, Earl King, travels up and down highways looking for people, especially children, that he can kidnap.”
Peter whispered, “Kidnap? He sells children back to their own parents?”
Ellie’s flashlight moved away from his clump of trees and then clicked off. She continued to look about the area as she went through a series of stretches.
“What he does is considered so vile in your culture that I do not believe it appropriate to speak of it.”
Peter thought about pushing for more but it did not appear that Orb would be willing to answer. Instead he thought of another question. “How do you know all of this?”
“I do not share your sensory perception limitations. I was able to review Earl King’s history by researching his license plate, which gave me his driver’s license information, which ultimately gave me access to all of his Internet search history, phone records and e-mails.”
“Did you actually download everything on the Internet?”
“Yes, though absorbed is probably a more accurate description.”
Peter shifted a little to get a better look at Ellie, who was grimacing her way through a series of deep-knee bends. “And she is okay?”
“Better than okay. She is exactly what we need. Please go to her now before she departs.”
***
A few minutes later, Peter adjusted the seat belt, which missed his chest completely and instead ran across his neck. He struggled against the strap to look out over the door frame but saw only clouds in the soft morning light.
It was all more than a little odd. Ellie, who called herself “El,” had not seemed surprised at all when he emerged from his hiding spot and announced that he needed help. She had bought his somewhat true cover story—he was going to stay with his aunt as his father had been locked up for protesting the damming of the river and his mother had passed away—and she had not seemed concerned about the fact that he was hitchhiking alone. Peter guessed Orb was probably responsible for her easy attitude, but he could not exactly whisper him a question at the moment.
“Would you like to listen to something else?” El asked as she studied Peter’s face.
Peter listened to the droning commentary of something called Sports-Talk 950. All the people on the radio were talking—or rather arguing—about who was the greatest quarterback of all time. Peter did not care about sports and did not know most of the names being mentioned. Big Ed might have an opinion, but Peter did not.
“No, ma’am. This is fine.”
El laughed. “Call me El, remember?”
She looked over at him briefly, then smiled as she turned back to watch the road. She sat on a cushion that gave her the height she needed to see over the large
dashboard, but there was no doubt she knew her way around a big rig as she shifted smoothly through the gears. “I don’t know why, but you don’t strike me as a big sports guy.”
“No, ma’am—I mean, El—I love being outside, but I don’t need a bat or a helmet to have fun.”
She smiled as she smoothly changed lanes to pass a slower car. “My two boys are all grown up now, but I can remember how much they loved to play in the woods around our place.”
Peter stared at El. He wasn’t sure what he expected a truck driver to look like, but El was not it.
“Have you always been a truck driver?”
El laughed and reached over to the round knob to turn down the radio. “Heavens no. My husband was the truck driver. I just retired early from my job with the school district and thought this might be a good way to see a little more of our country. Besides, I didn’t like sitting around the house alone with nothing to do.”
“Your husband is…?”
“My Cal is with your mother up in heaven, Peter. I lost him about two years ago.” She smiled sadly as she stared out the windshield.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too, Peter, me too.”
Peter felt like he should say something else. He barely knew El, but he didn’t like to see her sad. “You were a teacher?”
El immediately grinned and leaned over a bit as if sharing a secret, her eyes never leaving the road. “I was a principal, actually. I’ve always loved kids, but I found that I didn’t have the patience for a classroom full of them.”
Peter smiled. He was a kid and he frequently found that he did not have the patience to deal with a classroom full of children. Orb had been right about El, she was great. He wished she had been the principal of his school instead of Mr. Edwards—whose only contact with students was when he yelled at them to stop running in the halls.
A strange look passed over El’s face. “Has your aunt already dealt with getting you into a school in Hewlettsville? She has your transcripts?”
Peter’s stomach swooned; his happy thoughts disappeared as quickly as they had come. El seemed like the kind of person who could smell a lie a mile away. He was not changing schools, and he had no aunt in Hewlettsville—it just happened to be the town off the main highway closest to the cave where Orb needed to go. Every second he did not answer felt like an eternity. He finally blurted out, “My dad worked it out. I think my old school mailed the information to her.”
El’s eyes narrowed, and she turned again to stare briefly at him. “Hmmm. Well, if I was your aunt I’d be worried about you, and I can probably help answer any questions she has about getting you set up in your new school.”
El nodded her head toward her black cell phone perched in the cup holder on the dash. “Maybe we should call her to let her know what time you’ll be there, and I can talk with her a bit about the school stuff.”
Peter opened his mouth to speak but had no idea what to say. This was going downhill fast. “I, uh, don’t have her number. She works at the post office and I’m supposed to go meet her there.”
El checked the small amount of traffic briefly and then turned to look at him. “You’re traveling most of the way across the state by yourself, and you don’t even have your aunt’s phone number?”
Peter froze and all the saliva in his mouth left to find someplace in his body less nerve-racking. Orb had told him not to worry—he would handle the hitchhiking and the details. Peter had no idea what to say. Orb was hearing all of this. Where was he?
As if on command, Peter felt a warmth in his pocket and, even with the added layer of thick jeans wrapped around him, Orb’s red glow seeped out. Peter quickly shifted his hand to cover his pocket, but it wasn’t necessary. El’s frown suddenly departed, and she once again smiled at the windshield.
“Well,” El said, “I’ll drop you off in front of the post office. I’m sure your aunt will be glad to see you.”
Peter held his breath for a moment longer then, when it was clear that Orb had done something with El to end her questions and concerns, slowly let it out. “Thanks, El. I sure do appreciate it.”
She nodded. “It’ll be good to get you off the road. A lot of creeps out there, like that guy that was pulled over where I picked you up. I don’t know why, but I think he’s up to no good. I’m glad I happened by, Peter.”
Peter smiled back at her. “Me too, El. Me too.”
***
Peter waited until a count of ten, then opened the door of the post office and waved heartily at El, who was sitting in the cab of her truck parked sideways across the street.
El immediately waved back, then pulled on the air horn, which emitted a blast so loud that Peter took a step backwards. She shifted the idling rig into gear, released the brakes, and slowly moved forward.
Peter took another step backward, let the door close, leaned against the wall and silently counted to thirty. The next part of Orb’s plan had the most potential for problems or failure. Peter was supposed to get a ride from Hewlettsville to the Warbird Caverns—thirty miles south.
As Peter’s count hit twenty, he silently pondered how he was going to get a ride to the caverns, which were well off the main road. Hitchhiking along the main highway was bad enough. At least he had El’s number on the note she had insisted he take just in case things really went wrong. He already missed El—
A loud voice broke in. “Young man? Can I help you with something?”
Peter looked and saw that question had come from the older man behind the counter. The man scratched at his neck in irritation, his mostly white, wildly uncombed eyebrows arched upward in a perpetual question.
“No, sir,” Peter quickly replied, “I was just resting for a second. It’s hot out there.”
“Nicely done,” Orb’s voice boomed in his head, “now leave!”
“This isn’t a shopping mall, son. You can’t just come in here and lay about whenever you want.”
The old man definitely wasn’t a fan of visitors, or perhaps he just didn’t like kids. Or both.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Peter opened the door again and, after a quick check to make sure that El was completely out of sight, stepped back out onto the sidewalk.
“Go to the corner and make a right turn,” Orb said.
Peter absently put his hand on the lump in his pocket that was Orb and found it to be bigger.
“Where are we going?” Peter whispered. “And did you just grow or something?”
“Please move, Peter. Time is of the essence.”
Peter walked to the nearby corner, dodging small holes in the old sidewalk, then turned right at the sun-washed, slightly rusty stop sign mounted on the corner.
“Good. Keep going, Peter.”
Peter felt a strange sense of pride from Orb’s praise, but also recognized he had not received an answer to either of his questions.
“Please,” Peter whispered, “tell me what we’re going to do, and why you seem so much larger.” Peter again patted the lump in his pocket, avoiding eye-contact with a woman who had overheard him and had given him an odd look. Peter just smiled and kept walking.
“If we are fortunate, we are going to find our ride. I am now larger due to my proximity to the others, which accentuates my power and stretches the limits of my receptacle.”
Peter tried to digest that information as he walked, but he found that Orb was speaking at a level significantly higher than that used by thirteen-year-old boys. He again whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“The closer we get to the others, the bigger and stronger I become.”
“Ah,” whispered Peter, “why didn’t you say so?”
Orb did not reply, and Peter kept walking in silence until he reached the next corner.
“What now?”
“Straight ahead—two blocks farther.”
Peter quickly looked both ways before crossing the empty street. The big stores out on the main highway had all been packed w
hen he and El had passed, but downtown Hewlettsville looked like a ghost town. He walked past an old building with large windows that were now covered by newspaper taped to the inside. One yellowed section that contained the day’s comics—from two years ago—caught Peter’s eye.
While Little Rock was entirely too big a city for Peter’s comfort, he did enjoy occasional trips into Beeville (which was about five miles from his farm) to see what was new in the small number of stores. Since his family rarely had much in the way of money, these trips were infrequent—largely inspired by Big Ed’s need for parts for his tractor, or his truck.
Peter looked around Hewlettsville, taking in the empty streets and square, vacant buildings, and decided that even if he had money there was little for him to buy here. The scenery here made him sad, uncomfortable. The town was dying, almost dead, but it did not yet seem to realize it.
As he approached the next corner, he finally saw signs of life in the form of a Chinese restaurant.
“Do you see the white truck?” Orb asked.
Peter stared across the street at the lot. There were a number of trucks, but his eye was drawn to a large, four-door truck parked at the far end of the lot. The truck’s white paint gleamed from what must have been a recent wash. The owner of the truck had backed it in such that the tailgate was facing the street.
“Yes,” Peter whispered as he again looked both ways before crossing the street.
“There is a tarp inside the bed of the truck. Get under the tarp and be still.”
Peter warily looked around the lot as he got closer to the white truck, but there was little to fear. No one getting in or out of a car, and the restaurant had an unusual, solid brick front with no windows. If it were not for the sign declaring it to be a restaurant, Peter would have mistaken the building for a storage facility.
“Quickly,” Orb added. Peter walked as fast as he could without running, looking to his left to see if anyone across the street could see him—and finding only other closed storefronts.
Peter reached the truck and noticed the “Warbird Caverns” sticker stuck to the otherwise shiny, chrome bumper. He grabbed the top of the tailgate with both hands and, using the bumper as a step, swung himself up and into the bed. As promised, there was a heavy, dirty canvas tarp partially folded up in the bed. The spare tire lay across the bottom to keep it from flying out. Peter slid under the tarp and, fighting against the weight of the tire, tried to pull it up so that it covered him.
The Promise of the Orb Page 4