CHAPTER 8
Laura leaned against the rough bark of the palm tree, watching the boys mill around. The short turf grass left this area less muddy than the surrounding ground, but water still squished between her toes, a welcome distraction. They were on a small knoll to the right of the main hotel, waiting on transport to the airstrip. Or at least that was what everyone else was waiting on. She was waiting on a signal from Joe.
The remaining men in the lobby had been loaded into a bus and driven back toward town late last evening, leaving the group of women and children to doze on the lobby floor as best they could. Laura had listened to the sounds of people squirming, frightened tots being shushed, a few sniffles. The occasional yell or gunfire sounded from the remainder of the building, leaving her to wonder if any of it was Fenton.
Closer to her, she had seen more than heard Joe talking to himself, turning every possibility over in his mind again. He stiffened when the soldiers hauled Frank away; knowing any attempt to intervene would simply get his brother killed. Biff stared at the ceiling, looking uncomfortable flat on his back on the floor, but a boy of about three had appropriated his knee as a pillow. Chet had finally drifted to sleep, his congested snoring settling into a wheeze.
Daybreak found them herded outside, standing among the palms in a steady drizzle. An old bus finally chugged its way into view, the labored motor noise gradually overriding the breaking waves as three more vehicles followed suit. There were relatively few guards assigned to the group. After all, this bunch was being sent home, back to their safe little lives well away from political intrigue, away from a militia more than willing to kill them. Not like any of them wanted to stay.
Joe shifted closer to the edge of the clearing, noting that the manicured hotel gardens quickly gave way to dense vegetation. He didn't risk a direct look at Biff or Chet, but he knew they were doing the same. Laura observed the motion as well, leaving the palm, but lagging to the back of the crowd now wearily boarding the buses. She dipped her head in a tiny nod at her son.
Joe saw the nod and ran his fingers through his hair; the first three subtly higher as he pulled them though tangled waves. His ring finger folded, followed at a second's interval by the next two.
Laura drew a deep breath, gathering all the fears she'd been hiding the last twenty-four hours until Joe let his hand fall to his side. He was ready. She allowed herself another second staring into those intensely blue eyes before that breath came out again as a shattering scream.
"Fenton! FENTON! My husband! I can't leave him, I won't! FENTON! No! Oh my God, I can't! NO! FENTON!"
"Ma'am! Mrs. Hardy. Be quiet!" One of the soldiers charged at her, caught unprepared as she collapsed against him, noisily sobbing. "Mrs. Hardy, stop that and be quiet!"
"I c-c-can't. Ohh, I just c-can't. F-Fenton! I won't leave him, I-I n-need him so much! You have to let him g-go. You c-can't hurt him, you j-just c-can't! I w-won't leave him here. F-Fenton! FENTON! FENTON!"
Rao jogged over to his younger counterpart, determined to stop the racket. "Stop it!"
"Oohhh, I c-c-can't. FENTON!"
Rao winced at the sheer volume of the shrieks, noting the other soldiers had largely stopped in their tracks. "Keep getting these people on the buses!"
"F-FENTON! NO! I WON'T LEAVE HIM! NO! FENTON!"
"I SAID SHUT UP!" Rao's backhanded slap sent the slim blonde flying, landing in a crumpled heap on the sodden lawn.
Laura stayed down, shoulders trembling, the rain providing the wet trails down her face that her eyes had not. The side of her face stung, prompting a few real tears to join them. What little she could see provided no glimpse of Joe. "F-Fenton?"
"He's not here, you crazy broad. I didn't hit you hard enough to be confused…yet. Now, stop it!" Rao's face came into her field of vision, fetid breath an inch from her nose.
"Ohhh, Fenton, I can't l-leave y-you! I c-can't…." Although softer, Laura's beseeching ramble continued.
Rao grabbed her elbow and a fistful of hair, yanking her to her feet. "You can, and you will!" A pair of hard slaps punctuated his statement, only the grip in her hair keeping her upright. "Quiet, right now, or I'm shooting that brat of yours!"
Rao turned to the underling that had initially caught her. "Get her son over here."
Laura shuddered in his grip, murmuring her husband's name over and over, trying to ignore Rao's obviously increasing temper at her manufactured hysteria.
"Sir? I can't find Joe Hardy or his friends anywhere, sir."
"What?!" Rao released her, propelling her into the younger man. "Crap. Put her on the bus." He turned his focus back on Laura. "And you stay there and shut up!"
Laura's head rang from the slaps and she could feel a trickle of blood at her lip. Even so, she had to hide the satisfaction in her suddenly calm voice. "Of course."
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"There! On your left!"
Biff nodded, acknowledging Joe's harsh whisper, too winded to do anything more. They'd have to stop running soon. Closer to the hotel property, the rumble of the buses combined with the surf to camouflage their departure, but as they ploughed further into the undergrowth, only the softer sound of vegetation diffused rain covered their flight. Admittedly bare feet didn't make that much impact on drenched topsoil, but the pell-mell disruption of foliage was another matter.
The thin break in plant growth to the left wasn't much, but Biff and Chet followed Joe that direction. Joe slowed slightly as the tree trunks drew closer together, ducking vines and lower branches, falling to one knee a dozen times. He wished he had some way of knowing what had happened back at the buses. His Mom's frantic wails had been lost in the overall noise almost as soon as the trio sprinted from the clearing. While Joe was convinced Rao wouldn't kill her, not being absolutely certain gnawed at him.
Unfortunately, Laura being the distraction was the best plan he had. Rao wouldn't have hesitated to murder any of the young men, and if they had found some way not to involve his mom, she would have tried to help anyway, or the soldiers would have pulled her into it as leverage. There was also every chance he would need both Biff and Chet to help find Frank. Still, Joe knew he had broken a bit of a family taboo to directly place his mother in the thick of this. He could only hope his father and brother survived to give him hell over it.
Joe held up a hand, skidding to a halt as the vegetation again separated.
Chet dropped his hands to his knees, hanging his head to pant. "What?"
"The animal trails split. We're leaving a distinct trail. Good chance to change that." Joe and his swollen nose might be breathing a little easier than the congested Chet, but his sentences were to the point. Anyone following them would have little difficulty tracking the broken stems, even once the rain erased the footprints. Now that a pursuer would have to choose among paths, it was time to be more cautious. Joe selected a direction, slowing to a walk and keeping his feet to the patches of flat ground cover as much as he could. It wasn't moss exactly, but similar enough. He felt other feet replace his at each step.
An hour later they found a section of hollowed bank, the earth having slipped from beneath the roots of a large tree. The resulting depression was about four feet high and a couple of feet deep, but with enough leaf litter pulled about, it might make a passable hiding spot.
"Anyone else need a breather?" Biff kept his voice low, unsure if anyone else had entered the forest.
Joe nodded, watching as his friends squeezed among the exposed tree roots. He followed them in, grateful a few loose vines draped the entrance. Positioning a few larger leaves, he settled back in the damp dirt, stretching a cramped leg in the tight dark space.
"Umpphh." Chet's grunt was barely audible.
"What?" Joe didn't see any particular problem. Well, not as long as you didn't consider the whole in the middle of a revolution running from gun happy pseudo-soldiers angle.
"Your toe's in my ear."
"Oh." Joe tried to reposition with limited success.
"You're one to talk, Morton. You think that soft spot you're sitting on is the ground?"
"Sorry, Biff."
"Likely story. You…"
"Shhh." Joe interrupted the already muted conversation.
Chet tapped his shoulder, the unspoken inquiry evident.
"Think I hear something." The three fell silent, straining to listen for anything suspicious. The dripping of the rain droned on, interspersed with almost mournful birdcalls.
Biff finally risked a comment. "You really think they'll come after us, Joe?"
"Yeah, I do. Doubt they'll put much effort into it, though."
"Why not?" Not that Chet wanted a lot of effort put into his capture, but he was curious as to why Joe thought that. Maybe the back of his mind just wanted some reassurance against the fear building there.
"Look at the way we had to leave. No water, no supplies, unfamiliar with the area. We don't even have shoes. Either we'll die out here, or we'll have to seek all those things. The guards would probably like to capture us, but they'll know that they don't really have to come after us. Sooner or later we'll have to go to them."
"Pessimistic much?" Biff sadly agreed with the assessment.
"Just realistic." Joe dropped his volume again, reminding himself to keep it down. "We talked about all that yesterday, remember? I'd just rather that finding other people is on our terms. Unless either of you is secretly Tarzan? 'Cause those are skills we could use…"
"Nah, not me. Biff's more the vine swinging type. Gonna need an extra long leopard skin though." Chet tried to lighten the mood a little, even forcing a chuckle. Unfortunately, the chuckle disintegrated into a coughing fit.
Chet desperately tried to stifle the noise as Joe thumped his back, all of them aware that they actually did hear distant footsteps in the brush now.
"S-sorry." Chet gulped another mouthful of air, choked tears streaming from his eyes.
"Not your fault." Joe couldn't be sure his friend had heard the whisper.
The soldiers made no effort to hide their approach, fanning through the trees and calling out to the youths.
"Come on out! We know you are here."
Well that's original… Joe shifted, wishing this was one of thousands of hide-and-seek games he'd played with Biff and Chet on the Morton farm years before. Yeah, Frank always found them. But then again, Frank never planned on shooting them.
Chet buried his face in his shoulder, frantic to stop the hacking as it resumed.
"Cara ini! We hear you. Come out!"
The approaching footsteps stopped as Chet did, unsure of the direction without the coughing to follow.
Chet turned to face Joe, dim light hiding his expression. "Go."
"What do you mean, go?" Biff peered into the gloom.
"I'm getting sick again anyway; I can't run anymore. You two can get away and find Frank." Chet completed his thought with a barked sneeze.
Biff emphatically shook his head. "We're not leaving you out here."
"Hey, not like I'm wild about it, Biff, but either I get caught alone or we all do together. I'm not seeing a third option."
"Chet, that's nuts. Stop talking and we'll be fine."
"N-not…" Cough, "talking…" Cough, "that I'm worried about." Chet gave up and relinquished himself to the fit, curling around his knees. "Go."
"We should stay together." Joe wanted that to be true, but he knew it wasn't.
"Chet-" Biff found himself interrupted by Joe.
"They're getting closer. You sure, Chet?"
"Joe!" Although still low in volume, Biff nearly hissed.
"No, he's right, Biff, much as I hate it. At least we'll have a chance to come back for him this way. There's more chance of this working if we stay and you go, though."
Chet considered that and nodded. He'd certainly be easy to track and could lead the troops away. "Okay."
Joe frowned, aware no one could see it. "Chet, if we're looking at this strictly as a plan, it's our best shot. Looking at this as a friend, say the word and we all do this together."
Chet shook his head.
"I know I already asked once, but, well, you sure?" Joe wished he could see the older boy's expression. "Hey, never mind, ok? Stay here and we'll figure something out." Joe felt Chet tense, getting ready to move. "You really want to do this?"
"Not even close." Chet shrugged out from under the hand Joe had placed on his shoulder and darted out of their shelter, hesitating about five feet away. "Find Frank. And happy birthday, Hooper."
Joe and Biff listened to their friend retreat, footfalls staying as quiet as possible until he was well away from the dugout, then beginning to run. The rapid pace started the cough up again, rendering it impossible for the militia not to find him.
"Are we doing the right thing?" Biff's question hung in silence a moment before Joe answered, both contemplating charging after him.
"I wish I knew."
"Ha! Found you!" The accented call came from a distance. "Stop running boy!"
The crashing through the foliage continued.
"Stop!"
"Stop!"
A shot rang out and the noise was gone.
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to be continued...