His mouth turned down. “Are you sure?”
“It worked before. Come on, let’s go.” As an afterthought, I said, “Hold my hand.” I hoped that would increase his courage a little.
Opening the door wide enough for us to pass through, I peered back and forth.
GO! GO NOW!
I jumped as the voice inside my head sounded again. And though there was no audible sound, I felt like it was shouting at me. I clutched Cody’s hand with mine, and hung on to the pouch with the other. “Here we go.”
NOW!
We shot out of the garage, staying on the sidewalk that paralleled it; our footsteps were barely audible. When we reached the front corner of the garage, I turned sharply left and headed for the equipment shed that was about thirty yards away. So far so good. No shouts. No gunshots. It was working.
The thought had barely formed when a dark figure stepped out from behind Mom’s SUV. He was tall and angular. Doc! I stopped immediately and felt Cody crash into me. Pulling him with me, I shrank back against the garage doors.
“I see you,” Doc cried. His words were followed immediately by the soft pop of a silenced pistol. A bullet tore into the wood about two feet over our heads. “Hold it right there.”
“He can’t see us,” I whispered in Cody’s ear. “Stay with me.” But as I started to move along the door, another shot popped. The second bullet hit no more than a foot in front of my nose, sending splinters of wood against my face hard enough to sting.
“I said,” he snarled, “don’t move. The next one will take your knee out.”
I straightened, holding up both hands.
“I thought you said he couldn’t see us,” Cody said under his breath, raising his hands as well.
I let go of the pouch in disgust. “That’s what I thought too.”
They put Cody and me on the couch between Mom and Dad this time. Grandpère sat on the recliner closest to me. A bruise was starting to show on his right cheek. El Cobra and Doc were in deep conversation in Spanish, but in low voices. El Cobra kept glancing over at me.
I was still reeling from shock. In the attic, my face had been caught squarely in the beam of a flashlight—a large flashlight—that was just inches from my face, and no one had seen me. This time, though he had been at least twenty feet away, and there was only moonlight, Doc had seen me instantly. I was bewildered, confused, almost dazed. The voice had shouted at me to run, just like before. Had I chosen to run the wrong way? Why had the pouch been so insistent that we go now? Or was it even the pouch? Was it because I decided to play Super Chick for my little brother? Maybe it was all just sheer exhaustion. The clock on the wall showed that it was past one thirty. I had been awake for almost twenty-one hours.
I felt a burst of irritation. Come on, Nanny, I felt like shouting. If you can’t help us, at least don’t make things worse.
Nothing.
I leaned over slightly. “Grandpère?” I whispered. “Are you all right?”
El Cobra spun around. “You! Danny Boy! Keep your mouth shut.”
“I’m all right,” Grandpère said softly. His next words shocked me. “And so are you.”
The boss left the others and stalked over to us. The rest of the group formed a half circle around us. All the weapons were up and fully ready. El Cobra stopped in front of me, his eyes spitting fire through the holes in the ski mask. “I was hoping we could keep this simple and uncomplicated,” he said in a tight voice, “but it seems like that’s not going to be the case.” His hand shot out and grabbed me by the chin, jerking my head up to look at him.
“Ow!” I cried. His fingers felt like blacksmith’s pincers on my jaw. “Let me go.”
He did, flinging my head roughly to one side. “You nearly got your parents killed, young lady. Is that what you want?”
“No.” I kept my head up and forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching. I couldn’t show fear. Strange as it seemed, amidst the rage, I sensed a touch of admiration from him.
“Where were you?” he suddenly asked.
“In the attic. You passed right by us.”
He looked at Doc. “I told you so.”
His henchman said nothing, but I sensed that underneath the quiet, he was seething. Two dumb hick kids had made him look like a fool.
El Cobra and Doc locked eyes for several seconds, then the woman stepped up between them. “We’ve been here too long. We’ve got to get out of here.”
To my surprise, she had a British accent to match her blue eyes. Or maybe she was Australian. And she sounded young, at least ten years younger than El Cobra.
Thankfully, her words galvanized him into action. “Right.” He pointed at Doc and started barking commands. “Eileen and I will take the wife and kids with us. We’ll use their SUV. Get the keys out of her purse. Luke and Grandpa will go in the first Hummer with you and Juan Carlos. The rest of you will bring up the rear in the second Hummer.”
He swung back to Doc. “Put cuffs on all of them.”
Doc cleared his throat. “I thought we were leaving Dad and the old man here.”
“That was before. Everybody goes with us now until we get things sorted out.”
He turned to the woman. “You and Lew pull McAllister’s truck behind the barn where it can’t be seen. Anyone comes by, things need to look normal.”
Gordo raised a hand. “But, Jefe, I thought—”
I knew that word. It meant boss, chief, the man in charge. Not a surprise. By this time there was no question who was the boss.
“You aren’t being paid to think, Lew,” El Cobra snapped. “Tomorrow we’ll have our local contact leave a notice with the post office to hold their mail for a couple of weeks. We’ll have him spread the word in town that the other grandpa’s sick, and the family has gone to Montana to see him.”
He swung around and planted himself squarely in front of my dad. “As for you, Luke, I want you to call your buyers and tell them the closing is happening this Friday.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad said, his voice even and calm. “They are the ones who set the schedule. They’re flying into Moab on Saturday afternoon. If they’re on time, the plan was to take them up to the mine site that evening, then take them into it on Sunday. That wasn’t our preference, but they said that’s the only time that works for them.”
“So why close on Tuesday if you finish on Sunday?”
“We probably will finish on Sunday, but we can’t be sure if they’ll want to spend more time at the mine. And once they’re satisfied, we still have to travel to Salt Lake. They’re the buyers,” he said simply. “We meet their schedule.”
“He’s lying,” the woman exclaimed.
Grandpère spoke up. “If your sources are as good as you think they are, you already know all this.”
Dad went on quickly. “We start making sudden requests for changes in what we’ve set up, and it could rattle them.” His head came up. “But you have my word that my father-in-law and I will cooperate fully. We won’t put our family at risk.”
El Cobra glared at Mom. “You better hope he does, señora, because if something goes wrong, you and your kids will be fish food.”
She ignored him.
As for me, his threats made little impression. I was exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. I felt like my arms and legs weighed a hundred pounds each and that my mind—which had been working at warp speed before—was rapidly becoming hard concrete.
I felt a touch on my arm. Mom had reached across Cody to take my hand and hold it tightly. To my surprise, the tears were gone. She was still pale and obviously shaken, but there was no longer the dazed look in her eyes. I could see anger smoldering there instead.
“Are you all right?” she asked in a low voice.
“No touching,” one of the unnamed men barked. Heavy accent. Another Hispanic. He stepped up quickly and jabbed Mom with the muzzle of his rifle.
She pulled back, but continued to look at me.
“I’m fine,” I said
.
As the man stepped back, she looked me squarely in the eye and mouthed, Don’t give up. Then she turned back to Dad as if nothing had happened.
I was flabbergasted. I shifted my weight, trying to get more comfortable, and bumped against Cody. I winced. Something heavy and sharp jabbed into my ribs. As I shifted my body again, I realized that whatever it was, it was in the pouch. I still had the strap over my shoulder, and I wondered if the pouch had bunched up when I sat back down, because it was a hard lump, and it was hurting me.
I reached around with my right hand, then stopped as I saw that the man who had jabbed Mom was watching me closely. I dropped my hand again, then pretended to wiggle my body into a more comfortable position. As I lifted my head, I saw that he wasn’t the only one looking at me. El Cobra’s gaze was fixed on me as well.
“What’s the matter, chiquita?” he asked, coming toward me.
I went rigid, which only made me all the more conscious that there was something hard and heavy in the pouch. “Nothing,” I said. But Grandpère’s words came into my mind, as though he were speaking them aloud: “Never assume the fire is out, just because it is not burning. And don’t assume that something is empty, just because there’s nothing there.”
Suddenly, a tingling sensation coursed through my body again, and I was filled with wonder. The fear was gone, and I felt perfectly calm.
El Cobra stood over me, watching me closely. Then his hands shot out, and he grabbed me by both elbows and pulled me to my feet. He yanked the strap over my head and the pouch off my shoulder. He hefted it once, then again. “What the—?”
The others moved in closer to see what was going on.
“What have you got in here?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “I have no idea.” It was the truth.
He jerked forward, his face close to mine. “You little hellcat,” he screamed. “Don’t lie to me.” He whirled to Doc, raging now. “I thought I told you to search her.”
“I did,” Doc shot back.
El Cobra nearly tore off the button as he yanked the flap open and reached inside. His body went rigid. He looked at Doc again. “You searched her, and you didn’t find this?” He withdrew his hand, and everyone in the room gasped. He held a gun that looked identical to Dad’s.
El Cobra lifted the pistol closer to his face and began examining it more carefully. To my astonishment, he suddenly burst out laughing. In seconds, it was a full-throated roar. We all stared at him like he’d gone mad. Still laughing, he held it up for all of us to see. “It’s a toy,” he cried. “A replica. A child’s plaything.”
He turned the pistol so he could look down the barrel, shook his head, then flipped it around for us to see. “Look. The barrel doesn’t even have a hole in it.”
It was clearly a cheap plastic imitation. It didn’t even deserve being called a replica.
He turned back to me. “What are you up to, chiquita?” he said, his voice low and menacing.
“I didn’t know it was there, I swear. Your guy searched me, and the pouch was empty.”
With a snort of disgust, he tossed the pouch and the pistol on the coffee table.
BLAM! As the gun hit the wood surface and bounced, it blasted off a round. The bullet plowed into the ceiling above our heads, and plaster rained down. The pistol skittered across the table and crashed to the floor. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! On semiautomatic mode, the blasts came in rapid succession. Bullets were flying everywhere. A picture on the wall shattered. The vase that Dad had bought Mom in Paris exploded in a spray of porcelain. The lamp in the corner disintegrated.
BLAM! BLAM! Everyone was screaming and diving for cover. El Cobra dove behind the couch and knocked Dad over. Doc flung himself down and behind across the floor, hands over his head.
And then, through all the noise and the tumult and the chaos, that inner feeling that was as powerful as a shouted command came again.
RUN, DANNI! RUN!
The pistol continued to fire as I reached down and grabbed the pouch. I yanked Cody out of his chair, and before anyone could react, we plunged out of the door into the night.
Part Five: Flight
Chapter 25
Hanksville, Utah
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
There’s nothing like naked fear to give wings to your feet.
Cody and I flew out the door, leaped off the porch, and started across the front yard. Inside, the pistol was still firing, not rapidly, but steadily. Enough to keep them down, I hoped. We were fully exposed by both the yard light and the moonlight as we ran. If anyone looked out the window they’d see where we were going. I desperately hoped that until the pistol stopped blasting away, that thought wouldn’t occur to anyone else. Pulling on Cody’s hand, I turned left, away from the cone of light thrown out by the yard light.
“No, Danni,” Cody cried, jerking his hand free. “This way.”
“Not the barn!” I grabbed for him, but missed. “That’s the first place they’ll look.”
“I have a place,” he called back over his shoulder.
Ready to throttle him, I darted after him. Was it better to stay with him and get caught, or to have at least one of us remain free? It only took half a second to answer that, so I put on a burst of speed and caught up to him as we neared the barn. I threw one arm around his neck and dragged him to a stop. “We have to get out of the light. We can hide down near the river. The barn’s the first place they’ll look.”
He clawed at my arm, pulling it away from his neck, and took off again. “Follow me, Danni.”
I was stunned. This was not like Cody. Then I realized that inside the house the shooting had stopped. I could hear voices yelling and screaming. And there I stood, like some stupid statue in the full glow of the light.
I instinctively clutched at the pouch, seeing if it felt warm, praying that it would take out the yard light like it had the garage lights. Nothing. Le Gardien was definitely falling down on his job.
I turned and ran, my feet pounding across the gravel. As Cody disappeared through a side door into the barn, I heard the front door slam open.
“There they are!” someone shouted. It sounded like Doc. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”
I didn’t think he was bluffing, but I was running on pure adrenaline, and nothing was going to stop me before I got inside. There were three soft plops, and I heard the bullets slam into the barn just left of the door.
“¡Estúpido!” El Cobra shouted. Then followed a string of Spanish which, loosely translated, was, “If you hurt those kids, I’ll feed you to the sharks for lunch.” I say loosely because he included a few more colorful words. As I thought that, I realized with a start that I could understand his Spanish almost perfectly.
The three shots eliminated any further hesitation on my part. I hurtled through the door into the darkness of the barn. As I slammed the door behind me, total darkness enveloped me. I instantly pulled up short. Even though I couldn’t see a thing, I still felt safe. At least for the moment. The smell of hay, horse manure, and oats was something I knew well. We kept our horses stabled here in bad weather, but in the summer they were out in the pasture.
“I’m over here,” Cody hissed. I heard a soft scuffling sound, then he grabbed my hand and started pulling me. “This way.”
We didn’t need to see. We both knew this barn as well as we knew our house. We moved down the central aisle, past the four horse stalls, past the tack room with its saddles and bridles and the pungent smell of leather.
Cody stopped as we neared the east end of the barn where we stored the bales of hay that would feed our stock through the winter. The smell of dried alfalfa was strong. The stacks weren’t as high as they would be later, because we had only brought in the first crop of alfalfa, but they were still tall enough to almost fill this end of the barn, ascending in steps from the floor up to the loft, which was directly above us.
“Hold it,” Cody said, pulling me to a stop. He let go of my hand and moved a few steps away. I cou
ld hear him fumbling among the buckets, boxes, and other stuff in a small alcove next to the last stall. Then, “Got it.” Instantly, there was light. Not much, but enough. Cody held a pocket-sized Mag flashlight. Outside, men were shouting, and I heard the crunch of feet on gravel. We had to get out of sight and fast. I wasn’t about to make the mistake of counting on invisibility a second time.
“Come on,” Cody cried, clambering up the levels of hay bales like a squirrel jumping from tree limb to tree limb. I followed, not exactly sure how this was going to help. Did he think they wouldn’t look on top of the hay? Then to my amazement, he stopped. Holding the flashlight in his mouth, he grabbed the twine of one of the bales and heaved it to one side.
I started to protest, but clamped my mouth shut when I saw that he had just uncovered a hole at his feet.
“Quick,” Cody said. “Inside.” Not waiting for me, he dived into the opening.
I was still standing there gaping when I heard the side door crash open.
“Get down!” Cody hissed, grabbing my foot. At the same moment, he turned out the light.
I went into the hole after him headfirst. I expected to fall on him, but he was already out of my way.
“Help me pull the cover back in place,” he whispered.
Reaching up, I grabbed the twine, and together we tugged the bale back in place. When it was laid across the hole, it completely covered it. As we finished, Cody turned the flashlight back on, covering it with his hand in order to keep the light dim. He flashed it around. I was dumbstruck. There was a whole cave down here, maybe ten feet by ten feet, with the walls, floors, and ceiling made of hay bales. It wasn’t one large open space but two narrow corridors on either side, with “pillars” made of bales which held up the “roof.”
Cody turned the small beam on one corner, revealing overturned cardboard apple boxes which formed a low table. On them were bottles of water and old ice cream buckets filled with bags of Cheetos, granola bars, and candy bars. At my look, Cody grinned. “Remember the Boy Scout motto? Always be prepared.”