Sky Jumpers Series, Book 1 (15 page)

“Aaren! Brock!” I screamed. “Bandits!”

Brock flung the front door open as I ran toward it. In the doorway, Aaren tugged Brenna’s second glove on her hand and grabbed his slingshot, shoving it into his waistband, then we all ran.

“Up the hill!” I yelled. “They’ll have a hard time following on the horses. We have to get to the orchard!”

We pounded across the packed snow of the road as the horses neared my house. As soon as we reached the snow-covered rise leading up to the fourth ring, Brock lifted Brenna and placed her on the hill as high as he could and shouted, “Go! Go!”

We didn’t even try to walk up the steep incline—we
climbed, our hands and feet slipping in the deep snow as we struggled upward. We half pulled, half pushed Brenna as we went.

“Get them!” a bandit shouted just before he grabbed my ankle. Brock clambered past me and jerked Brenna out of the bandit’s reach while I scraped my boot against my other ankle to shove the bandit’s hand off. The yelling of the men, the neighing of the horses as their hooves beat against the hill, and Brenna’s screaming all fueled my climb. I dug my fingers into the snow, grasping for any handhold that would help me get farther from them. One of the horses behind me rose up on its hind legs. I screamed and yanked Aaren to me just as the hoof came down, almost landing on his leg.

We scrambled the rest of the way up the hill as the men gave up trying to climb the hill and rode their horses away from us, toward the road a half mile back that led up to the fourth ring. When we reached the top of the hill, the men were already on the fourth ring, racing toward us.

I knew Brenna wouldn’t be able to move fast enough, so I picked her up. The sound of my heart thundered in my ears, and I thought my lungs would burst before we made it to the orchard, but somehow we kept running, even after we reached the first trees. About ten rows in, I
fell to my knees and Brenna tumbled to the ground. My lungs and my legs wouldn’t let me take another step.

The horses stopped when they reached the edge of the orchard and reared anytime they neared the low, close branches.

“Should we go in?” One bandit’s voice carried through the crisp air.

“No. This place’s too big. We’ll wait for them to come out.” Then the bandit yelled, “You have to come out sometime!”

True, but at least I could catch my breath first.

I hadn’t noticed how light it had become until the sun poked over the mountains and glittered on the snow through the trees. Brock pulled me to my feet and we walked through the orchard, thankful the trees had kept so much snow off the ground. Without discussing it, we all headed toward the big shed full of baskets and ladders at the end of the orchard that marked our usual path into the mountains.

Sometimes, when we headed home after sky jumping, the orchard felt five miles wide, even though it was less than one. Today, though, with the bandits constantly on the border of it, shadowing us, the end of the trees came fast. When Brenna said she was too tired to go any farther, we stopped to rest and get drinks of water. The bandits stopped, too, at the spot where we normally exited the
orchard, the horses scraping their hooves impatiently on the ground. We were close enough that we could see their breath in the cold air.

Aaren put his water skin back into his bag. “How are we going to get out of here?”

“We only need to make it to the Bomb’s Breath,” I whispered. “They won’t follow us through it.”

Aaren nodded. “We need a distraction.”

“I’ll distract them,” Brock said as he looked toward the men. “You go. Don’t stop until you’re past the Bomb’s Breath.”

Brock wasn’t going to be the distraction. It was bad enough I brought more people than just myself on this trip, and I wasn’t about to put any of them in extra danger.

“If I was the bad guys,” Brenna said between drinks of water, “and I saw we didn’t die in the Bomb’s Breath, I’d still chase us. ’Cause I’m brave.”

“Yes, you are.” I looked at Aaren and Brock and raised an eyebrow. Brenna had a point.

“So we die,” Aaren said simply.

I almost choked on the swig of water I was swallowing.

Aaren crouched down. “Brenna, when we get past the Bomb’s Breath, do you think we can pretend to be dead and fool the bad guys?”

“I’m good at playing dead!” Brenna fell to the ground,
her eyelids fluttering and her tongue hanging out. Then she jumped to her feet again. “See?”

“Yes, you are good,” Aaren said. “Um … when we fall to the ground, let’s turn our faces
away
from the bad guys, okay?”

Brenna nodded like playing dead was the most exciting thing to happen to her all day.

“You ready?” Brock asked as he put his schoolbag strap over his head. His eyes were focused on the edge of the orchard, where he planned to create the distraction.

“Almost,” I said. “Brock, will you help Brenna with her schoolbag?”

As he bent to pick up the bag, I stepped toward Aaren and whispered, “Get them to the Bomb’s Breath.” Before he could react, I grabbed the slingshot from his waistband and ran.

I hoped Brock wouldn’t try to stop me from being the distraction. I was sure Aaren wouldn’t—he knew me well enough not to try. I veered to the right to draw the men farther from where Brock, Aaren, and Brenna needed to exit the orchard. As I ran, I kept my eyes on the base of the trees, where there was almost no snow. Every few trees, I spied a leftover apple from autumn and picked it up. By the time I reached the edge of the orchard, I had four.

The bandits could tell I was trying to distract them, and they weren’t buying it. Only one of the men rode down the edge of the orchard to deal with me.

He stopped twenty feet from me and lazily sized me up as I stepped out from the trees. I loaded a half-rotted,
frozen apple into the sling. The bandit smiled like he knew the apple wouldn’t hurt him.

But it wasn’t meant to hurt. And it wasn’t for him—it was for the horse he rode, Chance.

I pulled the apple back in the sling. The handle didn’t feel right, and the band didn’t stretch the same as mine at home, but at least I had a big target. I let go, and the apple sailed across the space between us. It wasn’t a shot to win contests, but it hit Chance on his left shoulder. He reared, bucking the bandit right off his back before galloping away.

Normally, I hated that Chance would run off and leave his rider in a heap on the ground, and I refused to ride him if any other horse was available. Today, though, I wanted to kiss him.

The bandit stumbled to his feet, saying a bunch of words that would have made my mom cover my ears. By his limping steps in Chance’s direction, I could tell that something hurt. Probably his tailbone. The man pulled out his gun, aimed at Chance, fired a shot, and missed. Chance ran without breaking stride, and the bandit yelled, “Miserable horse! You aren’t worth the bullet I spent on you!”

I didn’t hang around to see if he had another bullet to spend on me. I kept as close to the trees as I could, so he’d believe he had no chance of hitting me. As I ran along
the edge of the trees toward the other bandits, I picked up five more apples. The others saw what had happened to their friend, so they held their reins tight and braced themselves. The one farthest from me was in charge, and gave the closer man orders to keep me in sight while he maneuvered nearer to Aaren, Brock, and Brenna. The three of them had stopped three rows in, unsure of what to do.

The closer man rode my favorite horse, Arabelle. I knew my apple wouldn’t hurt, but I still felt bad. I took aim and hit her flank. She sidestepped. When I hit her with a second apple, though, she reared. The bandit slid off, landed on his feet, and grabbed Arabelle’s reins to calm her. I hit her two more times quickly, and she ran. Her rider chose not to run after her.

Instead, he ran after me.

I cut back into the orchard. When I neared Aaren, Brock, and Brenna, I yelled, “Get to the Bomb’s Breath!” I was so glad they had put their snowshoes on. At least they’d be able to escape quicker. As Brock and Aaren ran toward the fences, with Brenna on Brock’s back, I ran alongside the edge of the orchard, slowing enough to take aim and shoot at the third rider’s horse, even though it wouldn’t make a difference. He rode Jack, the most even-tempered horse in White Rock, the one little kids learned to ride on.

When the apple hit, Jack flicked his tail but stayed calm. The second apple hit him in the leg, and he snorted but his rider soothed him by patting his neck and speaking softly. I figured Jack wouldn’t run off, but at least I’d distracted his rider long enough for Aaren, Brenna and Brock to get to the fence. The man looked back to them just as they climbed over the warning fences, then he looked at me. By the expression on his face, he knew he couldn’t go after all of us, but if he caught me, the others would come back for me.

He was probably right, which meant I couldn’t get caught.

I slowed long enough to aim my next apple at the rider himself. He didn’t stay as calm or as quiet as Jack did, but he didn’t leave his horse to come into the orchard, either. The footfalls of the bandit chasing me sounded too close, so I didn’t shoot my last apple. His legs were longer than mine. I needed an advantage over him and the guy on the horse.

The shed
.

I ran like my life depended on it, which didn’t take a lot of imagination. When I reached the edge of the orchard, the running bandit was so close I could hear his breathing, and the man on the horse closed in on me. The fifteen feet of open space between the orchard and the shed
felt like a hundred as I ran. I flung the shed door open and made it inside moments before the rider and the running man caught up.

Apple boxes and baskets lay stacked and randomly strewn next to ladders, tree trimmers, and shovels. I knocked the stacks over as I ran to the opposite end of the shed, where shelves completely covered the wall except for the shuttered window you could prop open for sunlight.

The bandit behind me swore as he flung baskets and boxes against the wall, while the bandit on the horse yelled from the doorway, “Get her!”

The shed was dark enough that I doubted they knew the window was there until I climbed the shelves and threw open the shutters. I had planned to gracefully jump out of it, but when the bandit grabbed at my leg, I tumbled out and landed facedown in the snow.

I struggled to my feet and ran toward the warning fences. As I climbed the horizontal logs, I glanced over my shoulder. Both bandits chased me—one on foot and the other on horseback, and it was obvious he intended to jump the fence. I almost felt bad for the guy. Sure, his horse was the one most immune to slingshot apples, but Jack was meek in every way, including doing anything daring. Like jumping fences.

I had just made it past the bush we normally hid our
schoolbags under when I heard one bandit curse Jack’s incompetence. Then fence boards creaked under the men’s weight. Twice.

My lungs ached from breathing in the cold air while running. The snow was deep, and every step took so much energy, I wished I’d had time to untie my snowshoes from my back and put them on. Aaren, Brock, and Brenna plodded through the snow a hundred yards ahead of me, almost to the Bomb’s Breath. I scrambled up the steep part and managed to yell between panting breaths, “They’re coming!” I risked one look back at the men, even though I could hear their heavy breathing. The closer one wasn’t more than a dozen feet behind me, and the two who had ridden Jack and Chance were not much farther behind.

When Aaren, Brenna, and Brock neared the Bomb’s Breath, they sucked in a huge breath; then Aaren and Brock picked up Brenna and tromped up the mountain.

The Bomb’s Breath was fifteen feet thick if you measured it straight up—like against the wall of the cliff we jump off. But when you climb a mountain, you don’t go straight up, you go on an angle. So it was more like twenty-five or thirty feet. That isn’t too far normally, but when you’re trudging through a couple of feet of snow and can’t take a breath, it sure is. When Aaren, Brenna, and Brock reached the boulder that meant they were beyond the Bomb’s Breath, they fell to the ground.

I didn’t think the bandits would have any trouble believing they were dead. They even looked dead to me. I let myself believe it long enough to yell a pained “No!” Then I filled my lungs with air and trudged through the Bomb’s Breath. I’d never had such a hard time not breathing. With each clomping step in the deep snow, through pressurized air that took more energy to walk in than normal air, after running so long to get away from the bandits, I needed to breathe even more than usual.

When I finally reached the boulder above the Bomb’s Breath, I felt like I was going to die.