Sleepers (The Blue Planets World series Book 1) Page 21

  But this was a seasoned soldier, one of Tizzalura’s best. He heaved upward and flipped Captain Hill over his head. The rogue ELLIS Forces officer landed with a thud on his back, but instantly rolled, a good strategy since the Colonel was already up and aiming a kick at Captain Hill’s head.

  Meanwhile, Dayexi tried to stand, unsteady, having to stop and balance herself a couple times before finally pushing upright. She, too, had been trained in hand-to-hand combat. Watching the men maneuver, she looked for an opening.

  Captain Hill stepped closer to Colonel Lett and raised his fists in a boxer’s stance. Colonel Lett aimed a kick at Captain Hill’s face, but as his leg came around, Captain Hill caught his heel and thrust upward. Lett tumbled askew. If he hadn’t been injured already in the car wreck, he would’ve caught himself and recovered quickly. Now, though, he lay still.

  Dayexi stepped in behind Captain Hill and stomped on the back of his knee, making him fall forward. But Captain Hill caught his fall, spun, and whipped his leg around to knock her off her feet. She fell heavily, dizziness washing over her again.

  Rough hands jerked her up, dragged her, and shoved her in the back seat of Captain Hill’s car. Head still spinning, she couldn’t fight. Using plastic zip-ties, Hill strapped her hands and feet, and then buckled her seat belt, immobilizing her. He cut off any screams by slapping a strip of silver tape onto her mouth.

  Captain Hill returned a moment later with an unconscious Colonel Lett. Again, he tied hands and feet, buckled the man into the back seat, and taped his mouth. Lett’s head slumped awkwardly, and Dayexi could only hope that he was still alive.

  Now, Captain Hill looked straight at her.

  She could only raise an eyebrow in question: Why?

  He understood. Eyes glaring, Captain Hill spit out the words. “Killing you is too easy; I want you to suffer. You’ll die here on Earth, all alone, in a volcanic eruption created by your technology. They’ll find your body with incriminating evidence and blame the Sharks for the eruption; that will seal the fate of your people. YOU will be responsible for killing all of Rison. And Swann Quad-de will finally know our wrath.”

  The Baby Shark

  Wednesday morning dawned grey and foggy. Jake had stayed up late with Dad the night before, rehashing everything and deciding nothing. Dad had left at dawn to report back for duty. He’d meet with officials all morning and go back to Seastead that evening. Sir and Easter insisted that Jake go to school for half a day before it let out for Thanksgiving holiday. That afternoon, they argued, Jake could take an afternoon ferry across to see Em in the hospital. Groggy and anxious to be anywhere but school, he pushed into the dark hallways.

  He missed going by Em’s house; he missed listening to her chatter as they walked to school; he missed the excitement of brushing her hand when he took her gym bag. He groaned. How much had she heard in the hospital? He had to talk to her soon.

  Walking into civics class, he cringed at the sight of Coach Blevins. Jake expected Coach to dissect the girl’s state swim meet. Jake and his family had left early to follow Em to the hospital, so they hadn’t seen the final results. But the TV news had reported that Bainbridge High had come in second by only one point. Coach would spend the entire class period complaining. Jake steeled himself to stay calm when Coach griped about Em’s performance.

  Instead, Coach was passing out a stack of newspapers with a huge grin. Handing a newspaper to Jake, Coach said, “Exciting news. They got him.”

  “Who?” asked David Gordon.

  “The Risonian ambassador’s kid. They got a photo of the She-Shark and the Baby-Shark.”

  Across the room, newspapers rustled.

  Bernie, the class nerd, called, “Jake, this looks like you.” He held up a paper and glanced from the front page to Jake and back again.

  Jake grabbed the paper away and shook away the cobwebs in his head. The picture was poor, blurry at best. It showed a woman and a teenage boy, that much was clear. Jake recognized the house on Hood Canal where he’d been with his parents that weekend. With a sinking heart, realized that it was indeed a photo of him.

  In a too loud, sarcastic voice, Jillian said, “I could take a better photo with my cell phone. This is so blurry, you can’t tell a thing.”

  Jake appreciated Jillian’s attempts to throw off the others. Maybe it would work.

  But Coach Blevins walked toward Jake, the newspaper in hand.

  Coach held the paper up to Jake’s face, while Jake cringed. He couldn’t look away, or Blevins would really get suspicious. Besides, it was an awful photo. The Ambassador was recognizable, just because you knew it was her. But the kid was a blur, half hidden beside her. Still it was a photo of Jake, and he was furious that the photographer had gotten that close to them.

  Blevins’s dark eyes were wrinkled, but his stare was intense. Suddenly, he sucked in a breath. “Stay after class. We’ll talk.”

  The rest of class was a blur. When the bell rang, David stopped to murmur, “You need me to stay with you?”

  Jake shook his head, no. Even if Coach discovered Jake’s identity, they still needed to protect the identities of David and Jillian.

  “I’ll wait outside,” David said.

  Jake stayed in his seat until the room was empty. Blevins pulled a student’s desk around to face Jake and sat heavily. For a moment, he looked back and forth between the newspaper and Jake. Finally, he said, “I know you. You’ve always looked familiar. You were there the day I went to beg your father to not ruin my life. You came up out of the water.”

  Jake shivered. This was the worst that could happen. He played the only card he could. “And I know that you’re Yarborough. You’ve had plastic surgery, and you’ve buried yourself here on this island, but the world will still remember who you are.”

  It was a standoff. They both had information that the other wanted to remain quiet. Or so Jake hoped.

  But Blevins just smiled, showing his teeth. “It doesn’t matter now. Mt. Rainier will be the end of Risonian’s hope.” He added under his breath, “And of that She-Shark.”

  “What does that mean?” Bewildered, he demanded, “Did Captain Hill do something to her?”

  “You don’t know, do you?” Coach Blevins said.

  Jake gripped the desk so hard that his knuckles turned white. Tersely, he shook his head.

  His voice quavering with controlled anger, Coach Blevins said, “After Swann Quad-de made such a big stink about my research papers, I had to go into hiding.” He gestured to his face. “I had a nose job done. Grew a mustache. Threw away my contacts and used heavy glasses. But the worst was changing my name. I was raised to be proud to be a Yarborough. Raised my son that way, too.”

  Jake studied the Coach’s face and thought about the man in the black-and-white photo shaking Swann’s hand. That had been a happy and confident man. The man in front of him was bitter and angry.

  But Coach wasn’t finished. Now his voice was softer. “Cyrus Yarborough is my son’s name. But after that mess with Rison and changing my face and identity, well—Captain Cyrus Hill is my son.” Coach stood taller, his face hardening into a defiant glare. “Hill was my wife’s maiden name. My son—Cyrus—he’s ashamed of the Yarborough name. Ashamed.” He ran a hand across his face. “When I had the nose job, we went to our cabin on the upper peninsula of Michigan and stayed there while I recovered. For a month, every time he looked at my new face, my son cried. The last day, he told me he was changing his name to Hill and joining ELLIS.”

  Jake stared in sudden understanding, and he froze, fear gripping him hard. “Oh.” It explained Hill’s anger and desire for revenge.

  “Yes. Oh,” sneered Coach Blevins. Eyes wide, his lips twisted in a cruel smirk, Blevins looked half-crazy. He spat out the words: “When’s the last time you heard from your mother?”

  “What does that mean?” Jake shoved back his chair so violently that it tipped and fell with a loud bang. Jake’s insides quivered in fear. What had this man and his son do
ne?

  Coach Blevins rose sedately, turned his back on Jake, marched out the door and into the teacher’s lounge across the hallway, where Jake couldn’t follow.

  As his words sank in, Jake’s stomach turned cold and hard.

  Mom had told him over and over, “Think before you act.”

  Not this time. He turned and ran.

  Chase

  It was dusk when Dad’s SUV spun gravel and jerked to a stop in front of Captain Hill’s family cabin on the Cowlitz River. Jake and Dad were desperate: Mom had to be here.

  Jake, David, Dad and Commander Gordon had talked it over and over, and this was the only logical explanation. Mom had never made it back to NYC; once they realized she was missing, the Embassy was frantic with worry because there had been so many death threats. Dad had thought she was just busy and didn’t have time to call him; the Embassy thought she was stealing an extra day or two of family time for Thanksgiving. Instead, Dad’s Navy sources finally talked to the police and found a report of the Embassy’s SUV abandoned not far from the airport. When Jake reported what Coach Blevins said, they surmised that Mom had been brought here to the Hill’s cabin. The Gordons would investigate other angles while Jake and Dad drove frantically to Mt. Rainier

  At the last minute, Gordon said, “Blake, you’ve got to take the TAG-GIMS and a drone. If everything works out, you’ll need to try to deploy it.”

  “You’ve studied it long enough? You have all the info you need to replicate it?”

  Gordon nodded, “And improve on it. We just need to know if it will work.”

  Dad held out a hand for the lightweight package. Grimly, he said, “It had better work.”

  Then Dad and Jake sped toward Mt. Rainier, breaking almost every speed limit in sight. Mom might not even be there, but it was their best guess. It was a gamble that Jake hoped worked out.

  Jumping out, Jake wanted to run around the cabin to the front door that opened on the river’s side and charge in. But Dad put a finger to his lip and motioned him to stay back. Instead, they crept along the cabin’s south wall, skirting the stone fireplace, and Dad peered around. He nodded at Jake, and they walked quietly toward the steps in the middle of the porch. At the far end, Captain Hill sat slumped in a rocking chair, apparently napping.

  Dad waved his hands toward the door, so Jake tiptoed toward it.

  But Captain Hill either woke up or hadn’t been napping. He bellowed, “Stop!” Jerking up out of the chair, he started for them.

  Without hesitation, Dad charged into Captain Hill, and they crashed against the railings. Captain Hill cried out and shoved Dad backward into the cabin’s wall. Dad shook his head, bent low and charged again, this time getting under Captain Hill and throwing him off the porch.

  Pretty evenly matched, Jake thought. He wasn’t needed, so he turned back to the doorknob, which opened smoothly.

  Inside, he found a light switch and had to pause to let his eyes adjust. The cabin was neat and clean, if a bit sterile. It was furnished as you might expect for a log cabin, with leather couches and stuffed deer or elk heads on every wall. Downstairs was a big open room for the kitchen and living room. Jake jerked open doors: a bathroom, a closet, and a pantry. No hidden rooms or doors to a basement. He raced upstairs, taking the steps two or three at a time. Three bedrooms. Empty closets. No one under the beds.

  Mom wasn’t here!

  Where had he taken her? His heart pounded with anxiety and fear. Had Hill hurt her?

  Jake raced downstairs and burst out the door, just as Dad slammed into an SUV, probably Captain Hill’s vehicle. Dad arched his back and instinctively reached around for his spine.

  Captain Hill stood back and taunted, “You won’t find her. She’s here to get what she deserves.”

  Jake gritted his teeth and felt the anger burn in his gut. This man, this human, this stupid Earthling—where was Mom?

  Captain Hill put his hands up like a boxer and threw a punch toward Dad’s face. Still weak from being slammed around, Dad barely managed to raise an arm in self-defense.

  Jake looked around for a weapon, something, anything. A fallen branch caught his eye. Snatching it up, he darted toward Captain Hill and crashed it over his head. Captain Hill staggered back, shook his head and looked around. Seeing Jake, Captain Hill must have decided he didn’t like the two-against-one odds. Suddenly, he darted toward the river.

  Jake rushed to Dad, “You okay?”

  Dad wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. It was bloody.

  “Okay,” he mumbled. “You find Mom?”

  Jake shook his head. “Not in there.”

  Dad nodded and straightened, his face streaked with dirt and blood, but his eyes glinting with anger. “Where’d he go?”

  By now, Captain Hill had clambered down the riverbank and stood looking back at them from the water’s edge. He turned and raced south along the riverbank. His khaki camouflage was harder to track than Jake would’ve believed; it was only because he was in motion that Jake could follow Captain Hill’s progress at all.

  Dad nodded toward the river. They scrambled through the weeds and slid down the bank. Running was awkward because, although the stones were polished smooth by the water, they were uneven sizes, a jumble. Ahead, Captain Hill stumbled and fell. He stood, grabbing his right knee, and hobbled onward, but slower, so that Jake gained ground.

  Dad stopped and leaned his hands on his knees, panting and breathing heavily. “Go on! Catch him! I’m coming!”

  Jake concentrated on his footing, glancing up now and then. Captain Hill was heading toward a shallow ford, and Jake thought he might be able to catch him before he got there.

  Still limping, Captain Hill sped toward the shallows.

  Jake put on a burst of speed, afraid that he’d fall but determined to catch Captain Hill and make him tell where he’d stashed Mom.

  Captain Hill splashed into the water, and Jake leapt for him, catching his back and knocking them both into the stream. Cold water made Jake catch his breath, but he had no time to worry about water temperature. Captain Hill stood and faced Jake. The older man had a couple inches reach on Jake, and twenty or thirty pounds. Jake would have to be fast to avoid getting hurt.

  Captain Hill advanced and swung.

  Jake ducked, danced forward, and punched Captain Hill in the stomach. But it was a lightweight punch; Captain Hill barely paused before he struck downward toward Jake, hitting just below the shoulder blade. Jake collapsed, face first into the water. Captain Hill grabbed the back of Jake’s shirt and dragged him toward deeper water. Jake kicked and struggled, but he couldn’t get his footing. Captain Hill shoved his face into the water, holding him there, trying to drown him.

  Fortunately, the water was deep enough that Jake’s underarms—and his gills—were submersed, too. Jake pulled his legs under him until he felt the creek bottom. Suddenly, he shot upward in a tremendous thrust. Captain Hill staggered and turned loose.

  Jake slung water from his hair and clothing, shaking like a dog.

  When he finally cleared his face, Captain Hill was already across the water and jogging along the opposite shore. Dad was beside Jake, saying, “You okay?”

  It was Jake’s turn for his eyes to glint in anger. “Let’s get him.”

  Together, they forded the river: Dad slipped once, but Jake supported him and as the water became shallower, they ran faster and faster.

  “Where’s he going?” Dad asked.

  “Marisa’s house,” Jake nodded to the distant A-frame. “Maybe Mom is there.”

  Saving his breath, Dad just nodded and sped up.

  From somewhere inside, Jake found more energy to push harder and faster. A brisk wind was rapidly cooling his wet clothes, but his magma-sapiens blood kicked in to keep him warm, and he barely noticed.

  Ahead, Captain Hill was already climbing up the embankment toward the Tullis’s house, using his hands to help pull him upward. He disappeared over the top.

  Dad panted, “Careful. Migh
t ambush us. Careful when we climb that bank.”

  Jake glanced around and nodded. “Look. I’ll climb up there.” The spot was in a slight curve, and Jake thought it would be hidden from the house. “I’ll crawl through the bushes, keeping low. It’ll surprise him.”

  Dad had never looked more military than when he sized up the situation, looking from the river to the house and back to the bank where Jake had pointed. “Good idea.”

  Jake almost expected him to add, “Good idea, soldier.”

  Instead, Dad reached inside his shirt and pulled out—

  “What’s that?” Jake gasped.

  “A Sig Sauer P 226.”

  “A gun?” Jake’s breath caught. This was escalating too quickly.

  Dad nodded. “Navy issue.”

  That’s right. Dad was a military man, and he knew what he was doing. And they had to get Mom back from this lunatics. Dad bent and picked up a couple fist-sized rocks. “If I need a distraction, throw these and break a window or something.”

  Jake stuffed them into his t-shirt, against his belly, and tucked the t-shirt into his jeans to keep them in place. In one of those odd moments where you remember something that’s totally not important, he realized he’d forgotten his jacket back in the car. Jake gritted his teeth and said, “Let’s roll.”

  Dad kept low, below the edge of the bank, and dashed toward where Captain Hill had climbed up.

  Meanwhile, Jake shinnied up the steep bank and crouched low. He’d remembered correctly: small shrubs and grasses were scattered about, so he could stay out of sight.

  Ahead, Dad climbed up the bank.

  Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, echoing from the mountains. Coach Blevins shouted, “Don’t come any closer!”

  Shock and disappointment ran through Jake. It wasn’t just Captain Hill; his father was here, too. He must’ve left school immediately and come to warn his son. That’s why Mom must be here and not at Hill’s cabin.

  Three more rapid gunshots rang out, punctuated by another yell, “Stop!”