B. E. V. Page 9

  "Now isn't this a mess?" said Kat in disgust. "I don't know which ones are the soldiers, or who the prisoners are, and they all keep moving. How are we going to find anyone?"

  "Gee, I don't know," I answered, searching for something resembling a prison. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

  Kat crossed her arms and legs, tapping her foot in the air. "Well, we can't sit here, we've come this far, we have to do something."

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me think."

  "We going down into the valley of death?" Bev asked. She crept forward to the edge of the tree line.

  "No, better stop here," I said. "Even in stealth mode you're still too big. We can't go down there without leaving a big mess in our wake."

  "Are you trying to say I'm fat?" wailed Bev.

  I gritted my teeth. Bev wasn't making it easy to think.

  "No, honey," said Kat swiftly as she saw my expression. "He means you're too awesome. All those soldiers would watch you and we don't want to be noticed." She gave me a shove. "Right?"

  I saw I wasn't going to get any thinking done until Bev was stroked. "Oh, yeah." I nodded vigorously. "I meant to say you're so popular everyone would want to have a party."

  I heard a sniff. "Thanks."

  "Now the both of you – please, BE QUIET AND LET ME THINK!"

  They simmered down and watched me.

  I sat and thought.

  I had nothing.

  "There's no help for it," I said at last with a grunt. "I'll have to sneak down there and search around."

  "I'm going too," Kat said at once.

  "No, I need you to stay here," I replied. "Someone has to stick with Bev. We can't both afford to be captured."

  "Are you sure?" She hesitated and said, "You know –"

  I waved my palm at her before she could protest. "Piece of cake."

  "Ooh, ooh, I've got an idea, wait!" Bev shouted. Lights flashed on her board. "Rear compartment, lower right-hand drawer. A button. Go get one."

  I walked into the cargo bay and yanked open draws. I found a box marked "Trackers". Inside were black doodads reminding me of bugs. "This it?"

  "Yep. Put it in your ear and we can track you anywhere."

  "Great." I wedged it into place.

  I spent the rest of the time scoping out the area, trying to get a fix where the soldiers kept the prisoners, without much luck. I thought I saw an area, segregated from the rest near the edge of the camp, but it was on the other side of the valley. Still, this was a place to explore, but I'd have to navigate through the whole army to reach there. As it grew dark, small campfires sprang up. I took a deep breath and said, "Here goes nothing."

  Kat said, "Good luck, try not to get killed," and squeezed my arm.

  Bev said, "With your shield or on it, soldier." She added, "You don't have a shield though, do you? I guess we'll have to drag you back here by your feet."

  "Gee, thanks," I replied. "You give me a lot of confidence."

  I made my way to the army, keeping to the bushes as much as possible. Men huddled around the fires, telling rude jokes and laughing among themselves. Trucks and personnel carriers were parked everywhere, and I thought I saw a row of old artillery pieces hooked up to the back of beat-up Humvees. No guards were posted, I guess whoever was in charge figured they didn't need any, and it was easy for me to waltz in as if I belonged there.

  Some of the soldiers stared at me oddly, and I realized most wore some semblance of military uniforms – I was a tomato in a sea of asparagus. I fell back on an old trick I used when I didn't want people questioning me about my leg. Marching straight ahead, not glancing left or right, I pretended I was hurrying somewhere on an important errand.

  "Hey you! Hold it right there." A hand fell on my shoulder, grabbed a bunch of my shirt, and swung me around. I guess I didn't appear busy enough.

  A soldier in a ragged army uniform glared at me with suspicious eyes, three hash marks on his sleeve advertising he must be a sergeant or something.

  "Say you, where'd you come from?" He peered at my face. "We didn't drag any of the youth corps with us."

  I didn't know what a "youth corp" was, but I knew I wasn't a youth. "Ah – I'm a soldier. I'm supposed to be here." I tried to stand taller and threw my shoulders back.

  "You, a soldier? A runt with a bad leg?" he scoffed.

  I thought fast and said, "Uh – hurt it in the assault, sir – What's its name – Paradise Cave?"

  "Paradise Cove," he corrected, nodding. "Yeah, they put up a good fight, got a lot of good stuff from there." He fixed me with a stern glare. "You know yer not supposed to be wandering around, right? We might receive orders to move any time. Where's yer unit?"

  I had him halfway convinced I belonged here. I kept the lies rolling, trying hard not to stare at my feet. "Ah, my sergeant sent me to help guard the prisoners," I said, acting embarrassed and nervous, "but I got lost," I finished lamely.

  "Yer sergeant?" He studied me again. "What sergeant? What's his name?"

  I hadn't thought this far ahead and I was running out of lies. I blurted out the first name coming into my head. "Sergeant Jenkins, sir."

  "Jenkins? Never heard of him," he admitted as he rubbed his cheek. The soldier held me lighter and arrived at a decision. "I think I'll give you an escort so you don't get lost again. Come along, kid."

  The man kept ahold of my shoulder and weaved me around fires, tents, and ground vehicles toward the middle of the encampment until we stopped at a hastily setup chain-link fence. Inside, hundreds of people milled about or squatted in the mud. We followed the fence until we arrived at a gate with a tent set up.

  "Here, I got yer replacement," the soldier pushed me forward into the arms of another man standing out front. "Keep an eye on him," he advised the other man with a knowing wink, "I think he was trying to slack off."

  "Oh, yeah?" This soldier had even more stripes on his sleeve. He checked me over, confused. "We wasn't expecting any relief for another hour," he said, surprised. "What the heck did you bring me?"

  "Don't know," the other said. "Found him wandering around, said he was searching for you. I brought him here, now he's your problem – I have my own men to worry about." The sergeant stalked away without a backward glance.

  The guard watched him go with annoyance and swung around to me. "Well, explain yourself."

  I gulped and stammered, "I don't know about all of this, sir. My sergeant told me to report here." I gave him my best stupid grin, "So here I am."

  "No uniform, and where's yer weapon?" His jaw tightened and he snapped, "You sure your sergeant told you to report here? How are ya supposed ta guard prisoners without a weapon?" He acted more suspicious by the moment.

  "Ah, I was never issued anything," I replied, trying to appear disappointed. "They kept promising me they would, but they never did." I don't know who "they" were but it sounded plausible with so many people.

  I must have hit a nerve because he agreed with me. "Yeah, supplies have been slow. I've been waiting two months for a new pair of boots." He gestured to the prisoners, "Can't wait to get rid of this lot and hit a couple more towns. Maybe I'll scavenge a pair."

  "Wouldn't it be great!" I agreed.

  "Been sending them out in small groups back to Morgan City – not enough trucks either. Nothing works right in this army." He studied me again and cursed under his breath, "and of course they give me a kid with no weapon. Great, but what am I supposed to do with you now?"

  I was taking a chance, and replied, "Tell me to go back to my unit and get some sleep?"

  A short silence followed when I didn't know if he was going to laugh or throw me in with the rest of the prisoners. "No way," he finally chuckled. "I've got you now, and I'll find something or another for you to do. I just have to figure out what." He paused, considering. "Okay," he said in a doubtful voice, "You ain't going to be much use if you don't have a gun. I'm Sergeant Bixby. You stick with me for the time being." He yelled inside the tent. "Gonna walk the perimeter wi
th the new guy – be back in a few."

  I tagged along, trying to keep up while he stopped and chatted with each guard along the fence. I ignored the occasional comments coming my way as, "What do you know, Sarg found himself a lame puppy," and concentrated on scanning the prisoners we passed for signs of anyone I knew.

  Inside the fence was a no-man's land separated by a smaller wooden stockade. Occasional prisoners stared across the gap with vacant eyes, blankets or jackets covering their heads to keep warm, and watched as we sauntered by. A few called out to us, hoping for a handout.

  There didn't seem enough guards for all these prisoners. I asked Sergeant Bixby, "Aren't you afraid they'll try to escape?" They must have a thousand men jammed in this little prison, the reek of urine and unwashed bodies made me retch.

  "Ha!" Bixby pointed to a stern-faced soldier we passed with a laser rifle. "The men have orders to shoot to kill if anyone crosses the wood fence. We nicked a few, shot one. The rest got the message mighty fast."

  "Oh."

  We arrived at a spot were a guard was supposed to be posted. The sergeant stopped and did a slow scan of the area with a scowl. "I'm going to have somebody's hide for this," he muttered, "can't leave when you want to and not let anyone know." He spun around and said to me in disgust, "You stay here until I send someone back."

  "What if they try to escape?" I replied.

  Bixby gave me a sour smirk. "Don't be nervous, kid, they won't, and they don't know you're not armed, but if anyone tries anything, give a yell." He gestured up and down the fence. "People will come a-running to help you. Now stand here, I'll be back in a minute." He stalked off, leaving me alone.

  As soon as he was out of sight, I stepped close to the fence, and started searching the faces, searching for Pop. No one was close and it was too dark to see far. Along the stockade, a figure made his slow way along the line, not venturing too close, occasionally stopping and talking to the guards. When he drew nearer, I saw it was a kid about my own age, a blanket draped over him for warmth.

  "Hey, fella," he whined, "have anything to eat?" Mud plastered his body, and a jagged rip ran down one side of his pants leg. "Come on," he said pleading, "anything, I'm starving. Even a piece of candy, please?" He acted ready to bawl.

  It was Hank Jenkins.

  I checked left and right, and pressed as close as I dared to the fence. "Hank – it's me, Hunter." I breathed.

  "Hunter!" He shuffled up to the stockade. "How'd you get here? Did you come to rescue me? Y – you have to, I'm dying in this place!"

  "I can't," I whispered back, "not right now anyway, and keep your voice down. Do ya want the other guards to hear us?" I checked around to see if anyone was listening. "Have you seen my pop, or Mr. Brennen? Anyone from our town?"

  "Saw Mr. Brennen." He nodded back toward the middle of the prison. "He's in bad shape. Haven't seen your pop, or anyone else I know. We're all jumbled in here – they've got people from different towns all thrown together. Can't make friends either, no one trusts each other, food's short and someone will cut your throat for a piece of bread." He glanced around. "Come on, you got to figure a way to bust me out of here."

  I had to do something fast, Sergeant Bixby might return anytime or send someone to relieve me. "Get Mr. Brennen and meet me here in," I estimated the time it would take to walk back to Bev, "in three hours. I've brought help – maybe I can break you both free."

  Hope flashed in his eyes. "You sure?" He beamed at me. "Gee, thanks!"

  "Try finding my pop, will ya?" I urged. "I can't leave him here if he's still alive."

  Hank nodded in understanding. "I'll try, but, you know, I told you –"

  "Hey, you okay down there kid?" one of the other guards along the line yelled to me. He took a few hesitant steps in my direction.

  "Uh, yeah," I shouted back. "One of these skels asking for a handout, no problem."

  "Well, send him on his way," he called back. "You know the rules, no talking to the prisoners, and no food. They're fed in the morning."

  I whispered to Hank, "I know you'll try. You locate Pop, Mr. Brennan and the others. I gotta figure out a way to sneak out of here myself," I caution Hank. I glanced around again to make sure the other guard hadn't decided to investigate my station. "I'll be back as soon as possible."

  "All right, Skel," I shouted loud enough for the rest of the guards to hear. "Get moving, I ain't got nothing for you. Shove off!"

  Hank nodded he understood and hurried back toward the other prisoners.

  I waited another fifteen minutes and still no one replaced me. I figured this was a good a time as any to escape. I cautiously inched myself backward, pretending to act as if I was still watching the prisoners.

  "Where you going, bud?"

  I stiffened at the sound of the voice. It was another soldier, my replacement arriving, walking down the line toward me. He didn't act happy. "Can't wait to get relieved, huh?" He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "Guard shack's back there."

  "Oh, ah, thanks." The last thing I wanted was to walk into the camp. "But I gotta go," I whined.

  The soldier shrugged and yawned. "So leave, I'm here."

  "I mean, go!" I held myself. "I gotta go bad!"

  His eyes widened and he broke out in guffaws. "Nearest latrines are off this way," He pointed toward the edge of the army by the trees. "Better hurry up, though. Sergeant Bixby is waiting for you to show up."

  "Gee, thanks." I scurried off in the direction of the woods as fast as my good leg would carry me.

  No one else bothered me as I made my way out of camp. I had to circle my way back through the trees to find the place I left Kat and Bev, and nearly broke my neck falling down a hole in the darkness. Every bush had its roots out to trip me, and vines kept catching my leg. By the time I got back, two hours nearly passed. I searched around for Bev, didn't find her, and became more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. I started doubting I was in the right place and was about to retrace my steps, hoping I still had enough time, when I halted and slapped myself in the face.

  I remembered.

  Bev was still in stealth mode. I couldn't see her.

  "Bev?" I groped around in the darkness, hands out, whispering their names. "Kat? Come on guys, it's me, Hunter. Where are you?"

  No answer.

  I became frantic. I wore the tracker – Kat knew I was here. Why didn't they come and get me? I didn't want to yell in case Sergeant Bixby was searching for me, but I had no choice. I took a deep breath, and yelled, "Bev."

  "Halt! Who goes there?" Her voice came from a spot I'd walked through.

  I jumped straight up and swung around. "Bev, cut it out! You scared me to death."

  "I am on guard duty, sur!" she replied in a crisp military tone. Her voice moved as if she were marching around me. "Stand and present your orders of the day."

  "I think you mean password," I replied.

  "Oh, yeah." I heard her giggle. "You're right."

  A light appeared in front of me. Kat hovered in the air framed by the hatchway. "Get in here Hunter, I want to close this door before someone spots us." She reached out a hand to help me up. "What did you learn?"

  "What happened to you guys?" I scrambled into the cargo bay and Bev's door dilated shut. "I've been wandering around in circles searching for you."

  "There was a problem," Kat retorted in exasperation. "Bev doesn't do well in trees, you know, she's, ah, big-boned. We had to take it slow. Every time we got a fix, you'd move. We've been chasing you for an hour."

  I bit back a remark, and brushed myself off.

  "Did you see anyone we know?" Kat said in a rush.

  "Yeah, uh, well no, but I met Hank Jenkins and –"

  "You found Hank? Of all the –" Her mouth hung open wordlessly.

  "Hold on, will ya – Hank said he saw your dad. He's gonna find him and meet us." I jumped into my seat. "We'd better begin rolling, I said I'd meet Hank in three hours, and our time is about up. I became lost."

  Kat
hurried to her chair and strapped herself down. I said, "Bev, were you tracking me?"

  "Sure 'nuff."

  "Then let's go; we're short on minutes."

  Bev took my circular route back to the edge of the camp. We halted out of sight and Kat and I started to argue about how we'd do this thing. Kat and Bev were all in favor of charging straight into the prison enclosure. I thought they were nuts.

  "We march in, bust down the fence, and scoop up Dad," Kat protested when I frowned. "I don't know why you're being stupid about this." She shouted into the air in an encouraging tone, "You'll do it, can't you Bev?"

  "Let me at 'em! I'll show those guys who's boss. Mess around with by BFFs' dads, will they? I'll murder the fence."

  "Yeah, sounds fine in theory," I replied, "but even in stealth mode, they're gonna notice us, and somebody'll shoot back."

  "The fence is going to shoot me?" gasped Bev in dismay.

  "Cut it out Bev, you're not helping matters!" I yelled. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and said to Kat, "We know they have rockets. I think I saw artillery pieces over there too." I hurried on, "I know Bev can take a couple of hits, but do we want to take the chance?"

  "Not on your life, handsome."

  "Then what's your idea, hot shot?" Kat replied, waving her hands in frustration. "We sit here and do nothing?"

  "No, of course not." I racked my brain trying to design a scheme, which wouldn't kill us, and searched the inside of Bev to come up with an idea. I spotted Doc Krumboton's bots scattered in the back of the bay, and decided on a plan – a stupid plan, but a plan, nevertheless.

  "A suicide mission."

  "What?"

  "Not on your life, buddy," scolded Bev. "My name's Battle Evasive, not Battle Dead."

  I ignored her.

  "Listen," I pointed to Doc's bots. "Let's release these guys and create a diversion. Bev," I said, "you're able to send them anywhere to do whatever we want, right? Doc said you control the whole bunch."

  "I suppose I do," she admitted and then gasped, "but they're my brothers and sisters!"

  "It will be their finest hour," I assured her. "Besides, there's plenty more back at the lab. Kat, we'll send them in first; let them bite, snarl, or gnaw on everything and everybody they find and create a diversion. While the soldiers are busy trying to corral them we dash in, grab Hank and your dad, and scoot. Sound good?"