Return of the Jed (9 page)

“Then we have to make sure to get him before they see him, right? That means moving. Now.”

“My arms.”

“In time,” Luke said, giving me a push. “Tread first. My Mexican-prison phobia is really kicking in.”

We tiptoed to Kennel 206, conveniently located very near the key room. Tread dropped to all fours when he saw me, going into a whine that said “Where the heck were you, and why did you let them do this to me?”

I lowered on one knee, putting my nose through the chain link. My dog’s zombie-enhanced sandpapery tongue ran across it, making it tickle. I reached up to scratch before realizing my hands weren’t there.

“Luke, turn around real quick,” I said. He pivoted, and I rubbed my nose along the index finger of my right hand, the one with the longest fingernail. Ah, that felt good.

“Thanks, now let’s get Tread out of there.”

“Got it covered,” Luke said. “I already found the key labeled 206. I deserve a pat on the back for that.” He hopped, my hands slapping his shoulders.

“Funny. Can we get on with this?”

“Let’s do this.” He slipped the key into the padlock and twisted. The lock sprang open, and Luke slipped it from the latch.

Tread burst out and would have jumped into my arms, if I had any. I leaned my face into his neck, feeling his cold breath on me.

“Luke, grab his tail,” I said, nodding toward the ratty snake-thing in the middle of the kennel. Luke shrugged off the backpack and stuffed Tread’s tail inside.

“Let’s get out of here.” I stood, looking left and right. “Do you remember the way out?”

“Yeah, hang on.” Luke put his head down, so I assumed he was thinking hard. It was odd because thinking hard was not something Luke normally did. “I memorized the map as if it were to Pine Hollow, with the exit as the cafetorium, providing the necessary motivation. Let’s see, it was Biology to Social Studies to the gym to the cafetorium and lunch. Follow me and please keep up.”

I lost track of the turns and soon was lost, hoping Luke really knew the way out. Or to the cafetorium, whichever way worked.

“Turn this corner, and first door on the left should be the way out,” he said. We stayed with him and sure enough, there was a large metal door looking very much like the one we’d entered. I prayed it was not locked.

Luke twisted and knob and pulled.

It opened, letting in a blast of hot air that was refreshing and stifling at the same time.

I burst through, relishing the night air with the freedom that came with it.

“
¡Pare ahora! ¡Manos arriba!
”

I have no idea what he said, only that there was a lot of anger for a quick shout. I looked toward the voice but saw only two beams of light that were about two hundred feet away and bouncing closer.

“Luke, do you have any ideas where—”

“Guys, over here, quick.”

I knew that voice. The girl from the break-in. Luke and I peered into the darkness where the voice came from. We saw a faint light. A lighter? No, a glow stick. It was across the parking lot, in the opposite direction from the approaching flashlight beams.

The angry voices screamed again. “¡
Alto, alto
!”

We were between a rock and a hard place.

We chose the hard place, since I was pretty sure it was the one that did not include Mexican prison.

But I never would have guessed what it did include.

“Go toward the light,” I told Luke, chest-bumping him toward the glow stick. He stiffened and stared at me.

“I thought it was always a bad idea to go toward the light, especially for you, being dead and all,” he said.

“What are you talking about? We have to move.” I chest-bumped him again. “Now!”

He spun, and I followed on his heels, focusing on the ground where chunks of asphalt waited like land mines. If I tripped on one and went down, I wouldn’t be getting back up until the guys with flashlights stopped laughing and hauled me to Mexican prison. I’d never see my arms again.

Luke and Tread raced across the parking lot while I stepped quickly as if in a bit of a rush. The slightest misstep and I was a dead man, so to speak. I’d never been to prison, but I had been in a seventh-grade locker room filled with close-minded bullies, so I had a pretty good idea of what life would be like.

I glanced over my shoulder and saw those bobbing flashlights were much closer than I thought. I kicked my pace from a “bit of a rush” to “in quite the hurry.”

Focusing in front of me, I found the glow and made a slight course correction, my right foot disappearing into the world’s deepest pothole. I went down, hard. I’d fallen and wasn’t getting up anytime soon.

The little air in my lungs sputtered out in a death rattle when my chest hit the ground. My forehead quickly followed, the asphalt scoring a major victory over my skull.

I had just enough consciousness left to know what I wanted more than anything right now. Arms and hands. They were not just for reaching things and scratching stuff anymore. They were also great at breaking falls.

Prison wouldn’t be bad. Probably like Pine Hollow Middle School, but with better food. And more attentive supervisors.

My vision began to cloud, and all I wanted to do was sleep. Night-night.

“Dude, wake up.”

Luke?

A slightly damp piece of sandpaper rubbed across the back of neck. It came with a slight stink of death. There it was again, this time across my right ear. A tongue? I turned my face to the right as far as I could.

“Luke, remember, mouthwash is your friend.”

No, wait, I knew that smell.

“Tread, move.” Luke’s voice again, from far away.

Tread. My faithful dog had come to fetch me. But it was too late, boy. Save yourself. I was headed to a land of rigid bedtimes and strictly enforced dress codes. And it would only be for twenty years or so. At least I could learn a second language.

“Too late to mess around, so we’re going to do it my way.” Yes, that was definitely Luke.

Suddenly I was floating. Now this was something I could do just fine with no arms. Everything was so peaceful.

Until reality came knocking in my brain. Not floating. I was doubled over something uncomfortably narrow. I bounced gently, yet painfully.

I did not like this, not one bit.

“Jed, we’re almost there, and you need to snap out of it.”

“Huh?”

“Jed, you hear me? Jed? Jed!”

I opened my eyes to see ground passing quickly under two quickly scissoring legs. Tilting my head up as far as it would go, I got a glimpse of a galloping fur ball.

Tread. It was Tread. And I was riding atop Luke’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Luke, what—”

“Good, you’re back, because we seem to be almost there.”

Almost where? Wait, the light. Held by someone who might or might not want to help.

We stopped. Shadows flickered on the ground, as if cast by …

A glow stick.

“Once we’re on the other side, they’ll never catch us.”

That wasn’t Luke’s voice, unless he’d taken a hit of helium, which he loved. This was so not the time or place to be playing with helium.

“But first we need to get your friend and his dog over.” A girl. Not just a girl. The girl from doggy jail.

“Tread’s easy,” Luke said. I felt myself lowered to the ground, at the base of a stucco wall that looked a mile high. There, near the top, was Tread, being pushed by Luke. Someone else was straddling the wall. He grabbed Tread, and with a high-pitched yip, my dog disappeared.

“Easy,” Luke said. He looked at me. “Ready to go for a ride?”

“That would be fun,” I said, because I had no idea what he was talking about.

I lifted from the ground like a rocket, thrust provided by the many hands gripping my legs and butt. It was a perfect launch, reaching escape velocity in seconds. It was so beautiful.

But re-entry? Not so much.

A pair of unfamiliar arms lifted me to my feet after my hard landing.

“That is some serious disability,” a girl’s voice said. “But look on the bright side. When you start driving, you’re going to get the best parking spots.”

“I have arms. Just not with me.” And I planned to reattach them as soon as we were safe.

“Time to shut up and follow.” So much for small talk.

We dodged through low brush, moonlight just bright enough to make out the landscape. I picked up the pace to stay closer. Out of the corner of my eye, I picked out a shadow low to the ground, moving alongside me.

Tread kept up easily, which I expected since he’d only lost his tail, not half his appendages.

“Almost there,” the girl said as we raced through the desert. For me it was more of a hurried gait, but the girl was kind enough to let me stay within fifteen feet or so.

Until she disappeared. I had no idea where she went, or where I should go, so I put my head down, leaned forward, and went from quick walk to jog.

That’s when the ground disappeared. As gravity pulled me down, my mind rushed to explain this particular dilemma. Did the earth just break up with me? Or had I simply left solid ground in my other pants?

My chest thumped hard against dirt and dust.

There it was.

The world spun around me, my legs flailing in ways suggesting they would soon depart. When the world finally stopped, my view was filled with stars.

Thank goodness they were real stars, not the fake stars generated by severe head injuries. And they were beautiful. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Kid, hey kid.” The same voice, more annoying this time. “Snap out of it.”

Something was in the way of those stars. A fuzzy blob. Move, you stupid blob, you’re blocking the view. I pushed at it but it stayed there, being a jerk.

I kept shoving but it refused to move.

“I’m not sure what all that wriggling means,” the girl said. “But I wish you would stop because it’s kind of freaking me out.”

My eyes focused on the blob. A face. Right, I was running and everything just collapsed.

I fell. That’s what happened. Then I tumbled about a mile into the deepest canyon on the face of the planet. I lifted my head to see two things: how far I’d fallen, and if I’d retained the more valuable portions of my body.

I could barely make out the top of the cliff in the moonlight. By my foggy-brained calculations, I had fallen at least six feet. Maybe seven. Or about five thousand feet fewer than it felt like.

Now my body. Torso? Check. Legs? Check. Feet? Check. Though the right one was turned backward. Arms? Dang they were still missing in action.

The blob said something again. “I, uh, …” My brain wasn’t ready for a conversation.

That voice was becoming clearer. And more annoying. It was the girl.

“You back?” she said. “Because I have some really bad news, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

Once again, hands dug under my shoulders and lifted, helping me sit up.

If I had hands, I would have pressed them to my skull because I had such a headache. So I was not happy when someone lucky enough to be hand-enabled chose that moment to slap me across the cheek.

First thing I was going to do when I got my arms back was rub my butt because it really throbbed after that fall. But then I was going to punch someone because I was so tired of being abused, even in a misguided attempt to snap me out of it.

I came around enough to notice a second person staring at me as if I were a zoo animal. And not a cool animal like an elephant. It was more of a “What the heck is that?” look a mole rat would get.

He spoke. “Marisa, I don’t think you should be slapping someone who’s disabled. The Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Double Amputees is going to be all over you for that.”

“He’s not disabled. He’s undead. Big difference.”

Finally, a familiar voice, which brought me around faster than physical abuse.

“Luke,” I said. “Where were you?”

I felt a cold breeze against my neck, then the familiar scent of decay. I knew it was Tread before I felt his rough tongue scrape my chin.

“Tread took off in another direction so I had to chase him down,” Luke said. “I knew you’d miss him a lot more than these.”