The Keystone: Finding Home

by Seren Goode

  “But… well… yes…but not my fault,” Cambridge sputtered and yelled. “I didn’t know Stringham had a secret room in his home.”

  “All these weeks since you killed Stringham, you have been looking for the artifacts and the journals, and these children found them in a couple of hours,” the man in the suit ground out.

  “Agent Dawes.” The voice over the phone had turned icy. “An invasion could be imminent. Those kids must know something. They just don’t understand the potential of the stone yet. We need to get to them quickly, before the government does. When you get them, find out what they know, then do the same with them as you did with Amé Thompson. And Dawes”—she paused— “take care of Cambridge.”

  “With pleasure,” the agent replied.

  ∞

  I was hanging half out of the vent when a piercing siren blasted through the sheet metal. I had spent the last twenty minutes trying to move quietly backward through the duct when I heard the alarm and Shim’s whispered, “Hurry, go faster!” Wriggling the last few feet, I birthed myself into the room and landed in a sprawl. Shim slid more gracefully out but landed face first on the epoxy floor.

  “Get your shoes on fast. We need to get out of here.” I had one shoe on and grabbed the other off the floor.

  “Jaxon? What is happening?” Shim shouted through the stones. He worked to get his shoes on, awkwardly lacing them while keeping his one hand clenched around the stone.

  “Don’t know. They are searching for something, maybe the badge? I don’t think they know where you are.”

  “Okay, you need to get out of there,” Shim encouraged.

  “I’m not leaving you.” Jaxon was outraged.

  “You have to,” Shim explained. “Do you want them to catch us all? You have to go quick and help get Breeze and Skylar out of the area before they start looking outside.”

  “Damn it,” Jaxon shouted. “All right, but you better make it out, Shim, or I’m coming back to kick your ass.”

  I missed the rest of the conversation. I pulled my hand off the stone and grabbed the knot of laces Shim had made trying to tie his shoe one-handed and quickly unraveled and tied them correctly.

  Finishing, I rose and approached the door. “Did they find us?”

  “Wait,” Shim whispered. I heard a pair of footsteps passing outside of the door, heading the direction we had originally entered. “Okay, it should be clear now. Jaxon’s not sure what’s going on, but he gave me an alternate route out. We need to hurry. If our access card still works, we might make it.”

  “Is he going?”

  “Yes.” Shim looked grim. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

  We exited the room in a cautious run. I kept an eye out behind us while Shim followed a set of intricate instructions Jaxon had given him, cutting through rooms and down empty halls. We finally came to a door that required the badge.

  “Here goes nothing.” Shim pulled the badge out of his pocket and swiped it. We both waited.

  Click! Shim looked shocked when the light blinked green and the mechanism on the door unlatched. I turned the handle and opened the door.

  Thump, thump, thump. Footsteps pounded down the hall toward us. Shim shoved me through and pushed in behind me, shutting the door. Automatic lights blinked on as they had in every room we had entered. But this was no room. It was huge, about the size of a high school gym with the same tall ceilings. The walls were the stark white cleanroom plastic we had found in the rest of the building, and it reflected row after row after row of metal racks stacking the full length of the room and towering above us. Crates filled the racks, most sealed, but a few on their sides with the contents on display.

  “Are these…” I drew closer, reluctant to touch the rack but curious to categorize what I was looking at, “…guns?” I examined something that looked like a shotgun nestled in a fitted foam pad. It was the right shape, except for the bulbous head at the beginning of the muzzle and it was all white. “I don’t know anything about weapons, but aren’t they usually black?” Shim hadn’t heard me. He had wandered down another row, and I hurried to catch up.

  “Logan used to take Jaxon and me out shooting. He had a friend who was a big collector. Had a little bit of everything. None of it looked anything like this. These are like a cross between a handgun and—a Star Trek phaser?” He was leaning in to examine the object but, like me, not touching it.

  “Do you think all these crates hold weapons like these?”

  “Yeah, I do. There must be thousands of them.” He pulled out the burner phone and started taking photos.

  “Should you be doing that?” I asked. It felt dangerous.

  “If we get caught, we are in trouble either way, and this is something. I don’t know what, but it’s important.”

  We walked aisle after aisle.

  Shim pried the lid off one of the larger crates that took up a whole pallet. I peeked over the rim. “Whoa.” It was full of neatly stacked hand-sized weapons. Using his elevated position, Shim took a couple photos of the inside of the crate, then one along the row to show the dozens of similar boxes.

  “Look at this.” He spread his arms and waved at the room. “It’s huge. If these are some type of hybrid weapon, why do they have so many?”

  I thought back to the conversation we had overheard. “Director Koch said an invasion could be imminent. Maybe they’re preparing to repel an invasion?”

  “Or preparing to invade,” Shim added.

  I shuddered. My stomach felt ill, and the AC was giving me the chills. I was ready to be done with this place. Instinctively clutching at my necklace, I pulled him along. “Come on. We need to get out of here.”

  Shim snapped a few more photos as we crossed the room quickly and swiped the badge on the other side to exit. As we left the room, I touched the stone at my throat and heard Breeze’s shaky voice.

  “Grace, Shim, Stars, will someone answer! Grace, Shim.” Over and over again, it went through my head. The stones! We hadn’t checked in. Maybe they got caught.

  “We are here. Are you okay? Did you get away?”

  “GRACE! Yeah, we are gone. Back up by the cave and heading out the way we came.” Breeze’s voice was shaky.

  Shim saw what I was doing and tuned in. “Is Jaxon with you? Did he make it?

  “Yeah, he is here.”

  Shim sagged beside me. “Make sure you aren’t being followed.”

  “Look, the guys can’t respond. They are driving. I’m behind Jax. Before we left, he took your bike down and left it by the original door you tried to get in. He says that’s where you should exit. He didn’t know if you would be able to make it up the hill.”

  I heard footsteps approaching on the epoxy floor. Shim grabbed my hand and pulled me several yards along the hall to a door. Shoving it open, we exited the sterile environment and were engulfed in heat and a blinding light. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, I saw Shim’s bike propped up next to the door.

  “Got it!” Shim pulled on the jacket, slammed the helmet on his head, and jumped on. I clambered on behind him, struggling to pull my arms through the sleeves and just getting the zipper half-way up before squeezing into the second helmet. As he started up the bike, I tried to figure out where to put my arms. “I have to let you go. I can’t hold onto Shim and the stone…wait. If something happens, if we get lost or something, we will try and contact you on the hour. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Her voice sounded like a sob in my head. “Grace, be careful. You and Shim…just be safe.”

  I was going to respond, but Shim took off like a shot. I flailed on the back of the bike, then grappled for a hold, clutching fabric, and finally got my arms locked tightly around his chest.

  We wove through the legs of the solar stands, wheels sinking into the soft sand as we started up the embankment. When I heard a shout behind m
e, I didn’t dare look back. I didn’t think my heart could race any faster. Then, near the top, there was a loud pop, and the sand flew up beside us. I was wrong.

  “Shim,” I shouted in his ear, my scream muffled by the helmet. “They are shooting at us!” He put on a burst of speed, and we soared over the top of the ridge. The bike landed with a hard thud, knocking the air out of me. Shim immediately leaned into a hard turn to follow the path we had taken earlier back to the cave. I glanced over my shoulder and could see guards on foot chasing us up the hill. Just as the mammoth white building disappeared from view, I saw a vehicle race around the corner to follow us.

  “Jeee-e-e-e-eep.” We hit a series of bumps, and the word vibrated out of my mouth. I tried again. “Jeep, there is a Jeep following us.” I felt Shim stiffen under my hands, then he relaxed back into his form and put on another burst of speed. He’d heard me.

  Chapter 30

  Road Race

  When I saw the jeep, my stomach bottomed out. I knew, alone on the bike, Shim could out race a Jeep, even a rig set-up for dune bashing. But with me on the bike, using the passenger pegs, we were going to be slower.

  Shim pushed the bike harder, roaring through the turnoff we had taken earlier that day to the cave. The tires broke through a crusty patch of dirt and sank to the soft sand below, spinning and spewing a spray of it out behind us. As we started our descent, Shim looked back. The dunes probably blocked his view of our pursuers, but over the high-pitched buzz of his engine, even I could hear a faint roar. With momentum carrying the bike down, he whipped his head back forward, pushing for the dirt road.

  As soon as his tires cleared the shrub lining the track, he lit it up. Leaning forward, he laid on more power and picked up speed. I followed his example, plastering myself to his back as he made tight turns on the switch backs to keep our speed up. I winced as we hit a hard bounce, and my stomach flew up through my head then slammed back down on my tail bone.

  The dirt path ended at a paved mine road, and Shim made a sharp turn onto it, heading toward the city. At the turn, we could see the Jeep exiting the dunes and hitting the dirt road, tearing it up as it roared toward us. It was an off roader, and it looked fast. I bet it would be hard to beat in the sand and even harder on the highway.

  The engine screamed as Shim revved it, pouring on even more speed. He fought to keep the bike stable and pushed it to its limit. Soon, we came to the freeway and turned toward the city. Shim flew past a car, the first we had seen on the road. Other cars began to pass us going the opposite direction as people exited the city, probably heading for the lake. The cityscape came into view, like a mirage in the distance, floating on the sizzling waves of heat. The road picked up more traffic, and Shim zoomed past cars, weaving in and out.

  I was a mess of rolling emotions. I could feel the Jeep behind us. It made every inch of my skin crawl like live wires were attached. My hands cramped as I clenched at Shim’s abs and risked a look back. The Jeep was about two-hundred yards aft, weaving through the cars and growing closer. Oh Stars. I screamed, “They are coming,” in Shim’s ear. The sound was probably faint through the noise and the helmets.

  He heard. Shim risked a quick glance back, then revved the engine.

  The two lanes turned into four, and the desert gave way to cement and suburbs. Concrete barriers lined the freeway, blocking avenues of escape. An engine roared behind us, and I glanced back again in time to see the Jeep edge around an SUV, cutting it off. When the SUV pushed back, the Jeep rammed it. The driver of the SUV lost control, and his vehicle pinwheeled, its tires leaving a circle of black tread marks. Surrounding cars weaved, some slamming on brakes, some crashing into the center barrier. The wave of chaos briefly pinned in the Jeep until it started ramming the car blocking it.

  “Faster, Shim!” I screamed in his ear. I could hear the feral cry of the engine and the steady hiss of tread tearing up the road at our back. Unable to resist, I looked behind me. I met the eyes of the Jeep driver, and he bared his teeth and accelerated. Just before the Jeep smashed into us, Shim swerved. I swung my head forward, nauseous, and decided I’d rather not know when it was going to happen. The bike vibrated as he crossed the rumble strip.

  Fifty yards further, and Shim slammed on the breaks. The Jeep shot past us.

  What was he doing? We slowed to a roll, and Shim put his feet down. There was a two-foot wide break in the concert barriers of the center divide. He stopped completely and threaded his front wheel through the break.

  We emerged on the other side—facing oncoming traffic. I beat at his chest and screamed as a double semi-trailer truck flew just inches past us, a roar of hot air pushing us back.

  Shim’s feet slid, and he bore down until we stopped.

  We were blasted with a symphony of horns. Mindless of the sounds, Shim picked his feet up again and rode slowly up the median strip, against the stream of oncoming cars, being careful to not brush them. It was several tense minutes of cautious driving, my hands clamped to his chest so tight I’m sure I was cutting off his breathing. Suddenly, there was a break in the traffic. Shim pointed the bike into the road and pushed to the opposite side of the freeway.

  Shim screamed a roar the whole way across, and I helpfully screeched along with him. When we reached the other side, he laughed like a lunatic. Loosening my grip, I started beating him on the chest, cursing when I heard his laughter. Still racing against the grain, it felt oddly safer on this side.

  On the opposite side of the freeway, running parallel to us, the Jeep was still ramming its way through traffic, staying even with, but unable to reach us.

  “Grace,” Shim shouted. “Watch for another opening in the barrier, we need to get off the freeway.” I nodded against his back. Shim watched the road while I looked for our escape route. We were drawing closer to the city, and I worried, once in the city, without the divided freeway, the Jeep would be able to catch up with us. Suddenly, I saw it. I tapped his chest and pointed up ahead to the left. There was the gap in the concrete barrier we needed.

  Shim slowed to a stop and indicated I should jump off. I did, and my legs collapsed under me. I clung to the barrier while Shim jumped off the bike and pushed through the narrow gap. I tested my jelly legs and decided I didn’t have time to adjust. I let go and, with trembling muscles, helped. We were getting off the freeway, but there was no frontage road on the other side, just a narrow shoulder before a steep pitch drop down a gravel bank. Shim flipped up his visor.

  “You doing okay?”

  I nodded. “Breeze contacted me as we were leaving, I let her know we got out okay. Shim, we can’t lead them back to the others.”

  “I know. I have an idea…you aren’t going to like it.” Shim snapped down the visor and hopped back on the bike. When I was safely fitted behind him again, he gunned the engine and sped up the freeway shoulder, still heading for the city.

  Chapter 31

  The Tunnels

  I always wondered about the idiom “my life passed before my eyes.” I mean, really, it’s the middle of a crisis and you’re going to sit back and watch a movie of your life? As Shim crossed into oncoming traffic, I had a sudden flash, and things that were important clarified: my mom, my dad, my newfound family of Breeze and Skylar, Jaxon, and Shim. Shim. Shim, Shim, Shim, Shim. Things that weren’t important: my insecurities, self-doubt, body image, fears—they just faded. And the things I hadn’t done created a pang of sadness and regret, along with a promise I would do them all if I just had the chance.

  My hands hurt, cramping from holding tight to Shim. But his plan worked. The Jeep could see us, but there was no way it could reach us. Shim traveled up the gravel shoulder, dodging the posts for road signs. We had entered the outskirts of the city, and the area was a mix of desert brush, abandoned concrete pads, low flat buildings, and miles of blacktop.

  I glanced back onto the freeway. The jeep was running parallel to us on the opposit
e side. Looking forward again, I screamed.

  “SHIM!”

  Shim slammed on the breaks. We skidded for several yards, the back tire sliding sideways until we came to a stop perpendicular to the freeway, inches from a drop off. I swung sideways, almost off the back of the bike, and was staring down into the wide, empty, concrete canal fifteen feet below. I screamed again, beating him on the shoulders. Even though I knew there was nothing else he could have done, the adrenaline coursing through me demanded a release.

  Shim grunted and dropped back his head as he sagged in the seat.

  I spotted the Jeep as it exited the freeway, crossed an overpass, then diverted down a service road that took them to the opposite side of the canal from us.

  “They’re coming,” I cried.

  “Hold on,” Shim shouted back. “We are going down there.” He pointed to the bottom of the dry canal, then torqued the throttle. We took off with a jolt. The bank of the canal was deeply angled and way too steep to descend. That left us traveling away from the freeway and along the top of the sloped embankment with the Jeep racing parallel to us on the opposite side of the canal. The Jeep pulled ahead as the angle of the decline flattened out. It jumped the edge and crossed toward us. At the same time, Shim slammed on the brakes. I held on tight as the back of the bike spun 180 degrees, then he jumped the embankment too. Riding at an angle down the side of the canal, he headed back the direction we had come and toward two great gaping holes under the freeway.

  The tires of the bike chewed up the concrete, but the Jeep was faster, eating up the advantage Shim’s stunt had given us. The Jeep roared behind me, then I felt a bump. We wobbled, and I clutched onto Shim harder as he struggled to control the bike. I didn’t think it would be possible to be more terrified than I had been when we were on the freeway. The synapses in my brain narrowed down into two thoughts: hold on tight to Shim and don’t die.

  I heard the engine roar again. Shim hunched down farther, and I followed him till we were lying flat on the body of the bike. With the bike going all out, we pulled ahead of the Jeep.