It was heading toward nine when they set off down the path, the sun falling rapidly, even as the thunder caps rolled toward them, ominous in the darkening sky. Dan had cleaned and patched Ted’s chest wound to the best of his limited ability, while Jim organized
the frightened boys, and built a rough but sturdy stretcher from two metal tent poles, a length of rope, and the nylon canvas of the two-man tent. Jim and Dan carried Ted, cushioned with sleeping bags and blankets, while Mark and Kris took the lead positions, lighting the path with their flashlights.
It wasn’t a pleasant trip. They had to move quickly, covering as much ground as possible before the sky started lighting up and the hills began to rumble. Ted moaned quietly. Even though Jim and Dan tried their best to carry him smoothly, he was jostled back and forth as they raced toward shelter.
Luis, the smallest of the campers, spotted the house first. “Look!” he shouted. “I see it!”
He led them down the deer trail until it met the gravel drive. “No lights,” Jim murmured to Dan. “What if nobody’s home?”
The sky above them lit up with sheet lightning, and Jim whispered, “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi...” He reached five, and thunder rolled, echoing like cannon fire against the hills.
“That’s more light than we need,” Dan replied tersely. “We have to get under cover, and we need to do it fast.” He lowered his end of the stretcher carefully, until it was resting on the ground. “Boys!” he called. Six pair of eyes stared at him. “Ranger and I are going to check out the house. Stay here with Ted. We’ll be right back.”
Standing on the dark porch, the lightning flashed again, the resounding thunder a mile closer than before. Jim knocked. Nothing. He rang the bell. There was not a sound from behind the door. Jim tried the door handle, but it was locked. Another flash; a closer rumble. Jim looked pointedly at Dan, who closed his eyes in resignation, and sighed. “Get them up here. I’ll get us in.” He disappeared around the back of the house, digging for his pocketknife as he left.
With Kris and Mark carrying Dan’s end of the stretcher, Jim drove the boys toward the front door, wincing as the lightning and thunder grew nearer. As the front door opened, revealing Dan, the lightning flashed at almost the same instant as the thunder roared, and hail began to rain down upon them, sharp and icy, despite the humidity. Dan reached for the stretcher, helping the boys pull Ted inside.
Shaking off the ice, Jim looked around the dark room. “Lights?” he asked.
Dan shook his head. “Power’s out. Or off. I’m guessing out, because it looks like someone does live here. I haven’t tried the phone yet; I wanted to get you all inside first.”
“Good idea.” Jim moved his flashlight over the room, searching. Finding the telephone on a table next to the couch, he picked it up. “Dial tone,” he said, relief evident in his voice. Punching 911, he waited. “It’s ringing.”
“911. What’s your emergency?”
Nothing had ever sounded so sweet. Jim felt his shoulders relax, as he spoke. “Sir, my name is Jim Frayne. I’m a counselor at Camp Kensey. My partner Dan Mangan, our six campers and I are in need of help. A man named Bill Murdock shot our head counselor, and may be looking for us. We’re near the forest service road on the north side...” A huge bolt lit up the whole house, and the telephone went dead. “Hello? Hello?” Jim fought the desire to rip the telephone out of the wall and hurl it across the room. His fingers tightened on the receiver, and he fought to release his grip. Forcing himself to speak calmly, he said, “Well, I guess that’s that.” Jim carefully replaced the receiver and faced his comrades. “I’m guessing we’re here until daybreak. Let’s try and get some sleep.”
“I...I...” Sam swallowed hard. “I’m hungry.”
Jim bit back a sigh. “Thanks for letting me know, Sam. Anyone else need food?”
“I do,” Mark answered almost defiantly, moving until he stood shoulder to shoulder with Sam. “It was a long hike, Ranger.”
“You’re right,” Jim agreed. “We definitely need to keep our strength up.” Using his flashlight, he made a quick search of the kitchen. Opening cupboards, Jim searched for food. In a hanging basket over the sink, he found four apples. Next to the silent refrigerator, he found a box of granola bars. Using a knife from the dish drainer, Jim sliced the apples in half, giving them to Sam to pass around. As he gave each boy a granola bar, he added, “But we also need to be well rested if we’re going to make it all the way out tomorrow, so eat up and then bunk down. Cowboy?”
Dan turned from where he was kneeling over Ted. “There’s room enough in the hallway. Just stretch out on the floor, and I’ll see if our unknowing hosts have some spare blankets.” He turned his attention back to his patient. “How you doing, Ted?” he asked quietly.
“I’m okay.” Ted forced his eyes open. “I’m...tired. Are...the kids...?”
“They’re doing fine,” Dan assured him. “Jim tried to call for help, but the phone went dead. We’re bedding them down in the hall, just in case...well, just to be safe. Would you like some water?”
“Please.”
Dan lifted Ted’s head and held the canteen to his lips. Water sloshed forward, a good portion running down the man’s chin, but enough getting inside his mouth. Lowering him back down, Dan pulled the slightly damp blanket more snugly around Ted. “Hang on, Ted,” he whispered. “We’ll get you out once the sun comes up.”
“Bill?”
“I don’t know,” Dan admitted. “He went over the embankment, and we didn’t bother to check on him. I don’t know if he’s okay or not, but either way, he’s at least an hour or more behind us.”
Ted gestured, and Dan leaned closer. Ted’s words sent a chill straight through him. “Bill...has the...quad.”
“Well, that’s a complication we didn’t need.” Jim ran a hand through his hair. “How fast do those things go?”
“Faster than we can walk,” Dan told him grimly. “The Quad-runner’s only been out a year, but I think it does twenty pulling the trailer; without the trailer...” He shrugged.
“Great. Now what?” Jim shook his head, answering his own question. “We need wheels. I don’t suppose there’s a bus parked out in the garage?”
Dan hesitated. “I came in through the garage. No bus--but there is a pickup truck.”
“That’s great! We can borrow it to get us to the nearest town.” Jim blew out a relieved breath. “We’ve got about five hours before dawn. Do you want the first watch, or the first sleep?”
Dan looked at him doubtfully, his dark eyes troubled. “Jim, I’m not sure we should count on the truck. First, I don’t know if it runs--I barely looked at it, and what I saw, looked old. Second, if we end up taking the truck...Jim, I’m in enough trouble if anyone finds out how I got us in here. You might call it ‘borrowing’, but I’ve already got a history of that. Taking a truck would be a serious violation of my probation. I...I’m just not sure.”
Jim worried his lower lip with his teeth. “Okay. I see your point, but we have to get out of here. If we could just wait to be rescued, that would be great, but we can’t. We have to get Ted to the hospital, and we have to keep the boys safe.” He rubbed his head. “No matter what,” he told Dan with complete sincerity, “I’ll take responsibility. If there are keys to the truck, I’ll take it. If not...well, I can’t do what you can, but no one has to know that. I have a past, too, Dan. Who’s to say I can’t hot wire a car?”
“Anyone who has ever seen you try to change the oil?” Dan grinned at his less than mechanically inclined friend.
“True,” Jim grinned back. “But nobody in this part of the country has witnessed that.”
“Good point.”
“So, what do you say?”
“I say you take first watch. Wake me up in a couple of hours and I’ll go take a look at the truck.” Dan picked up the blanket he had obtained from the bedroom at the end of the hall, and wrapped it around his shoulders. He concealed himself on the floor behind the couch, a few feet from where Ted rested fitfully on the stretcher, and within spitting distance of the boys lining the hallway. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on putting his mind and body to rest.
Jim took his place in the chair he and Dan had moved into the kitchen. From the side window, he could see the whole driveway and most of the porch while remaining hidden behind the relative safety of the wall. Focusing his gaze outward, he watched and waited.
Jim didn’t have to wake Dan; the refrigerator did it for him. As his watch hands crept towards three in the morning, the power was suddenly restored. The whir of electricity rushing into the appliance woke Dan immediately from his uneasy sleep. Rolling to his feet, he quickly checked on the boys, before turning his attention to Ted. The wounded man was restless, his skin hot to the touch.
Moving into the kitchen, Dan told Jim the news. “The boys are still out, but I think Ted’s running a fever.”
“That’s not good.”
“No.” Dan ran a hand through his slept-in hair. “Have you seen anything, yet?”
Jim shook his head. “The lightning was kind of fun to watch, but it only lasted an hour. Until the porch light came on, it was just a whole lot of dark.”
“Porch light?” Dan asked, his shoulders tensing.
“I turned it off within seconds,” Jim assured him. “Even if someone saw it, I don’t think it was on long enough to give us away. Phone’s still out, though. I checked.” He yawned.
“Why don’t you catch a couple of hours? The sun will be up by five, and I’d feel better if we were on the move by then.”
“I will.” Jim covered another yawn. “But I’d like it if you checked out the truck first. I’ll sleep better if I know whether we have transportation or not.”
“I’ll keep watch.” Mark appeared silently in the shadows. “Then Ranger can sleep and Cowboy, you can make sure we’re ready to go.”
“You should get some sleep,” Jim quietly told the eleven year old. “Let us handle this.”
“I’m awake,” Mark countered. “I’ve had more sleep than either of you, and I’ll be fine.” He stepped closer, and Jim could see lines of worry etching his otherwise smooth face. “I want to get my brothers safe.”
“Brothers?” Jim asked, shooting a look at Dan. Dan nodded.
“Yeah,” Mark said. “My brothers. If Billy’s out there shooting at people, I want to get them safe. I don’t want him shooting nobody else.”
“Okay. Me either.” Dan placed his hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I’m going to be right through that door,” he pointed across the kitchen. “If you see or hear anything, you get me right away, understand?”
“Yes.” Mark sat down on the chair that Jim had vacated, his eyes focused on the world outside the window. “You’d better get some sleep, Ranger, ‘cause I don’t know how to drive.”
Jim had to smile. “You’re right, Mark. Thanks.” He shared another look with Dan, and then crossed behind the couch to wrap himself in Dan’s discarded blanket.
Dan risked turning on the garage light, after a quick but thorough sweep with his flashlight showed blinds down on all three small windows. He stood staring at the pickup truck; checking each visible part. It was clearly a restoration project, currently somewhere in the last third of the process. The frame was straight, the lights and tires new, and the body partially primed for a new paint job. Opening the hood, Dan was relieved to see an engine safely encased inside. It too, was shiny and clean, and he began to feel hopeful. He walked around the back, shaking the rear end to make sure it was firmly attached.
The interior was tattered, but the steering wheel was clean and tight, and the instrument panel seemed intact. The bill of sale in the glove box marked the truck as a 1954 Ford 250. Dan had been interested in classic cars from infancy, due to his father’s love of them --Ford and Chevy brands in particular. He racked his brain, trying to remember any information about this particular model truck. In 1954, the inline six was upped to 223 c.i. and put out 115 horsepower. The 239 V8, called the ‘Power King’ ramped up with 130 ponies. Or was that in 1956? No. That was definitely a V8 under this hood. Muttering to himself, Dan slid out of the cab to check the engine again. He knew he was stalling. It didn’t matter what size engine the truck carried, if he couldn’t get it started.
Methodically, Dan began to search for a key. The best-case scenario was clear: He would find the key, and Jim would drive the truck to civilization. The worst-case scenario was more likely; there was no key, he would have to hot wire the truck, and would be arrested for grand theft auto once they reached civilization.
Dan searched for an hour. The sun was beginning to streak the sky, and his watch read half past four, when he finally gave up. Wherever the key to the truck was, it was not here in the garage. Creeping back into the house, Mark gave him a thumbs up signal, and a questioning look. Dan returned the gesture, adding to it his own crossed fingers.
Quietly waking Jim, Dan filled him in. “It looks like it will run,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to risk starting it, because the muffler is shot to hell. The engine is new, but I don’t think the guy who owns it has worked on the transmission yet. I didn’t find any keys either, so unless they are stashed somewhere in the house, I’m going to have to give you a crash course in starting-your-car-without-a-key-101.”
“Is it difficult?”
Dan shook his head. “No. At least, not for me.” He chewed on his lip. “God, I hope I don’t regret this.”
Ted moaned, and Jim grabbed Dan’s arm. “I’ll look for the key while you get the kids in the truck, but we don’t have any real choice, do we?” Dan glanced at the wounded man, and shook his head again, but his eyes were bleak. Jim swore his oath again. “I’ll make it work, Dan; I promise. I’ll use every ounce of power my father has to make sure you don’t get blamed for anything, but we have to do this.”
“I know.” The words came out in a half-sigh. “So, I’ll stop whining about it. Let’s get the boys up, and get going. We can make a bed of sorts for Ted, but if I’m driving, you’ll need to ride in the back with him.” Dan cast a worried look at Ted. “He’s not doing so well, and I don’t think the kids... especially the little ones...well, just in case...”
Jim nodded, understanding perfectly what Dan couldn’t bring himself to say. “Brady and Denis can ride with you and help navigate. The fire road looks wider than the trail, and I put it at about twenty-seven miles before it meets up with the highway. After that, it’s another fifteen miles, give or take, to Deer Park. Once we hit Deer Park, we should be able to get help.”
“Okay. Let’s get them loaded up.”
Dan rose to his feet, just as Mark hissed, “Something’s coming!”
Dan hit the floor again, crawling quietly toward Mark. Pulling himself up to peer out the window, he spotted headlights moving up the drive. “Get the boys up and keep them in the hall,” he whispered to Mark. “Tell them no noise, no matter what happens.” Mark nodded, scampering off silently on his mission. Dan turned his attention back to the lights approaching the house. They were close together and low to the ground, and as the vehicle came closer, Dan recognized the low whine of the Quad-runner motor. Billy was back.
Dan quick-crawled back to Jim, as the motor stopped and footsteps were heard on the wood floor of the front porch. Jim had moved next to Ted, one hand gently across the injured man’s mouth. Dan nodded his approval, and mouthed, “Stay down.” Jim returned the nod, his attention focused on Ted. Dan flattened himself into the carpet, and inched his way to the hall.
The doorbell rang. Once. Twice. When that elicited no response, the caller punched the bell several times in rapid succession. Then the pounding started. Jim huddled behind the sofa, watching Dan’s slow journey to the boys, one freckled hand ready to still Ted’s unpredictable moans. He breathed a sigh of relief when Dan reached the hall, only to hold his breath again as Billy began beating on the door.
“Hey!” The voice was familiar, sending a chill down the spines of the two teenage counselors. “Let me in! Hey! Open up!” Dan, with Mark’s help, kept the terrified boys still and silent, while Jim tended to Ted. The yelling and pounding continued for several minutes, ending with a series of curses as the frustrated man kicked at the door. The bottom of the door cracked, but it remained firmly locked to the frame. As Billy stomped back down the steps and restarted the quad, those hidden in the house released their collective breath, and the house itself, seemed almost to sigh.
They stayed in place, quiet and unmoving, until the sound of the engine had disappeared into the distance. Jim left Ted and crawled to the window. Only the tracks of the quad and a faint trace of dust remained. “He’s gone,” Jim said. “We should do the same.” He stepped into the kitchen and started opening drawers.
“What are you doing?” Dan asked, as he helped Brady fold up the blankets they had borrowed.
“I’m looking for keys,” Jim replied.
“Don’t.” Dan handed his folded blanket to Brady and moved to stand in front of Jim. “I’m okay with this; you get the boys ready, I’ll get the truck set up. We need to be quick, because I don’t think Billy-Boy has really given up.”
Jim stopped in the middle of ransacking a drawer full of sandwich bags. “You’re sure?” Dan nodded, and Jim closed the drawer. “I meant what I said,” he whispered. “I’ll make it right.”
“I know.” Dan’s voice was quiet, too, and for the first time in a while, his eyes were without apprehension. He grinned. “I trust you. You trust me. That’s how it works, right?”
Jim nodded. “Yeah. That’s how it works.”
“Then let’s blow this pop stand.”
It was nearly six in the morning by the time they were really ready to leave. The campers were quiet, frightened by the direction in which their camping trip had turned, but working together with a determination driven by the serious nature of their dilemma.
Jim had assigned each boy a specific task, and they had each responded accordingly. Mark and Kris had built a pallet of blankets in the bed of the truck, and Ted was ensconced there. Luis and Sam had gathered food and refilled all of the water bottles. Brady and Denis, bouncing between fear and excitement, huddled in the cab of the truck, scouring the map. Dan located two plastic gas cans, and poured the contents into the tank before getting to work on starting the truck. Lifting the hood, he ran a wire from the battery to the solenoid. Checking his connections and offering up a prayer, Dan crossed the wires, grinning with relief as the engine started.
“You have the door?” he asked Jim over the roar of the truck.
Jim nodded, shouting over the noise, “Yeah. Just make sure you slow down long enough to let me in.”
Dan nodded as he climbed up into the cab, reaching for his seatbelt automatically, and shaking his head when his hand hit the metal frame. Turning to Brady and Luis, he shouted, “Hang on guys! Here we go.”
Jim hauled up the garage door, and Dan pushed in the clutch to put the truck in gear. The pedal went down halfway, and caught. He raised his foot and tried again. Again, it stopped. Leaning down, Dan worked back the floor covering and reached under the clutch. With a look of minor disgust, he pulled out a hand full of dusty fluff, lint and scrap fabric, all coated with dried mouse droppings. He deposited the nest material on the garage floor, and reached in again. Three more handfuls, and the clutch depressed fully. Dan closed the truck door and tried again.
This time, he was able to get the truck rolling out of the bay. He stopped to let Jim close the garage and leap into the back of the truck, before shifting into gear and heading for the fire road. Finally.
The roar of an engine startled Bill as he lurked in the woods. He knew his prey was hiding in the house he had been watching, but they were supposed to be on foot. Creeping from his hiding place, he was shocked to see an old, beat-up truck slide out of the attached garage. He watched, open-mouthed, as the tall redhead closed the door and jumped into the back, and the truck headed off in the opposite direction of his current position.
Where are they going? As the truck disappeared, Bill shook himself back to reality and ran for the quad. It didn’t matter where they were headed. He would get them.
