Hey, everybody, bork bork! Thanks again for all the support! In this chapter, they actually find some stuff out and the plot gets (hopefully) more interesting! I know there are a lot of people out there that like Riley angst, and I do to, but I really like plot, too, and they're not always one and the same. But there will be plenty of angst later. Trust me. Oh yes.
Supernaturalfreakisabookworm and ancientmaverick - I'm kind of confused with the plot, too… so for the sake of anyone else that may be confused, and for me, who needs to straighten out their thoughts…
RECAP TIME! If you don't need/want a recap… scroll waaayyy down…Sooo, borkbork, they're in the deserts of Utah, for reasons that don't really matter but may be mentioned later anyways. At the beginning of the story, Ben knew that there was a secret organization out somewhere and thought it may be foreign terrorist groups. What he thinks they're doing is trying to kill everyone in the US probably by biochemical means – sneaking weird substances in American products long-term. He doesn't know why they want the US to die. The president of the US was told this by a leak in the secret organization. The president was also told not to tell the secret services, because the secret services aren't so secret anymore – if the pres tried to find out via the secret service what was going on, and try to stop it, then the (what we will presently call the) bad guys will set their chaotic plot into action! What's the chaotic plot? We don't know yet! Well, I do, but you don't. Why will they set their chaotic plot into action if anyone non-bad guy knows? Because they've been working on it for quite a while, and they'd rather execute their unfinished plan, which would still do a lot of damage, than sit there and have their plot foiled.
So the pres told Ben because the pres trusts Ben and thinks that Ben can be sneaky and find out what's really up and possibly figure out a way to stop it. Uuuuunfortunately, Riley has a cluster headache, which is the start of all the fun. They meet Laudes at the rest stop on the way to Henrytown. They meet Blackwell at the clinic in Henrytown. Ben is freaked because Riley having headaches is conspicuous – e.g. what if he needs to be airlifted out/what if he needs a prescription, and that's the beginning of his struggle to find a balance between Riley and the US. Fortunately the doctor is awesome and doesn't make them make a file for Riley. Ben gets across to Blackwell that they're on a very important mission and can't be found by the bad guys, whoever they are. Blackwell lets them stay in the clinic overnight with the oxygen so Riley won't die of headaches before he gets the prescription in the morning. They have the right prescriptions there because there's another clusterhead running around in Henrytown. Important? Why, yes! Blackwell leaves. Riley tells Ben he has mild CFS, and takes atomoxitine for it.
Unfortunately the clinic blows up, and upon exiting Riley gets another headache from the smoke and, although Ben doesn't notice, gets hit on the head with a piece of ceiling. Ben is a hero and saves himself, Riley, and Riley's computer. They go hide in the bushes. Why? Because, firstly, Ben doesn't know if someone just blew up the clinic for fun, or if someone was trying to kill them. Secondly, because if the police saw them the police would want to question them, which would definitely get some conspicuous data online, where bad people could hack in and see it and then know where Ben and Riley are. Although Ben, at this point, isn't even sure anyone knows who/where they are or what they're doing.
Riley starts acting funny and eventually falls unconscious. Ben freaks out and has an intense internal struggle over whether to wait and see if Riley will be ok, or bring him to the ambulance, which sits just a block away (because of the explosion) and possibly save him, and also get his information on record, which is undesirable.
Fortunately Blackwell shows up (what was he doing out there? His clinic just exploded, he was checking it out), tells Ben that Riley has a concussion, and leads Ben and Riley to his house, where Laudes is waiting for them, because Laudes and Blackwell are sibling-in-laws. And Laudes does his gardening. Blackwell brings them there because he knows they can't go to the police
And this is where it gets a bit confusing… After Blackwell sticks Riley with some sumatriptan he conveniently had on hand and Riley's headache fades, Blackwell gets very thoughtful when he discovers that Riley's been taking atomoxitine since he was fifteen. Blackwell starts asking Riley apparently random medical questions, but before anything there can be solved, Laudes bursts in and tells everyone the clinic wasn't your everyday Henrytown explosion – the perpetrator used some pretty high-class explosives. And the Henrytown criminal that likes to blow things up with gas was somewhere else that night. AKA someone was trying to kill Ben and Riley, although she isn't supposed to know that yet. She's just supposed to think that their names are Dan and Ri. How does Laudes know all this stuff about what was happening? You think you know, but you really don't. Unless you're slightly perceptive. Guess you'll find out this chapter.
Then Laudes's son, Jeremy, pops in, being all emo and grumpity. Where has Jeremy been? Not at the town bar, folks. Blackwell doesn't seem to trust Jeremy. Laudes tells Blackwell to go ask the police who blew up the clinic. Now, according to what happens later, she already knew who blew up the clinic, and she was just trying to get rid of Blackwell, but Blackwell doesn't know that. He does want to leave, though, for reasons of his own, which he tells Ben, and wants to take Jeremy with him because he doesn't trust Jeremy in the same house with Ben and Riley, because Jeremy is just suspicious like that. Jeremy says no. Ben goes outside with Blackwell for a moment, Blackwell tells Ben where he's going, Ben says okedoke, then pops back in, and Jeremy is aiming a gun at him.
From what happens in the next few pages, we learn that; Jeremy is part of the secret organization! Is that a coincidence or what? Not really! Why? We don't know that yet either! Jeremy has told his mom some of what the organization is about, (none of which we know yet) and Laudes kind of thought it was a good idea, but she doesn't want Jeremy to kill them, especially Riley, because she thinks Riley can 'become one of them'. She kind of pesters Jeremy and Jeremy shoots her. Riley throws a coaster at Jeremy, Ben and Jeremy scuffle over the gun, a few blows are exchanged, the police arrive at the door (because of the gun shot that was probably reported by the neighbors) and Jeremy runs away via the backdoor. Ben talks to Laudes as she bleeds herself into shock and Laudes tells Ben that Jeremy shot her and not them because 'they were all going to die anyways', and it was kind of a favor. Jeremy was probably going to kill Ben/Riley, but then Ben hinted that he didn't know what was going on. Laudes tells him that the bad guys didn't want to kill Ben/Riley if it wasn't necessary because that would mean a big fuss over their deaths and huge investigations, because they're famous. Laudes infers that what's going to happen isn't going to affect just the US. Then she dramatically mumbles 'ghost dance' while the police barge in and Riley and Ben are forced to exit quickly, because they still don't want to get caught and questioned.
Ben has a small panic attack outside the house as he tries to decide where to go. Blackwell's wife prances conveniently out of the woods and tells them exactly what to do and that she'll rescue Riley's computer. Which she does. On the way to getting picked up at the intersection, Jeremy, now in his car, makes a last-ditch effort to kill them by running over them, but they evade that. Jeremy keeps driving because he's being chased by the other police car. Why did Jeremy try to kill them then when he didn't seem to want to in the house? Because Jeremy is one sad, confused little man. Ben no longer has any idea what's going on. We don't yet know why Laudes and Jeremy are in on it, how they knew who Ben and Riley are, and why Blackwell knew Ben's name.
And then they load into the car and drive happily into the sunrise. The END! So far. Sorry that was such a long recap but… whatever… Did I miss anything? Is anyone still confused? I'd be happy to make a pathetic attempt at clarifying anything anyone wants clarified.
Pretty sure none of the medical stuff in this one is correct in any way. I tried to link them together somehow but, really, if you were to go research this, these are some pretty loose ties.
And if anyone sees something wrong with my little history lesson, let me know.
And Ben and Riley aren't mine.
"You called me Ben, Blackwell."
The sun was finally rising and the clouds were clearing rapidly. The thunderstorm was retreating, moving towards the mysterious snow-capped mountain. It was all lit up with blue and pink and light yellow and it was sure a sight for sore eyes.
"Benjamin Gates and Riley Poole?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the road in front of him. I was fairly certain we were going twenty miles over the speed limit. What now? Why did he know our names? Our last names? He really was going to dump us in a ditch and shoot us, wasn't he? I worried that, even though, given the circumstances, that made no sense whatsoever.
"Well, yes, I can't really deny that anymore. How did you know?"
"You're famous, aren't you? Riley, you even wrote a book. I bought it when I was in Salt Lake City a few weeks ago. You don't really look like your picture so I didn't recognize you at first." I glanced at Riley, who looked rather pleased, despite not looking like his picture.
"When I left you at the clinic I had my suspicions, went on the internet and looked your picture up. There you were." I laughed at myself. I always forgot we were famous. The answer was so obvious.
"So you aren't going to dump us in a ditch and shoot us. Good."
"Are you kidding? After sacrificing my entire clinic and my career for you? Of course I'm just going to dump you in a ditch." I should have smiled but that reminded me of something else he'd sacrificed for us. And he didn't know it yet.
"Blackwell…" I began, as soberly as I could, maybe trying to prepare him.
"Jeremy shot Laudes back there. In the shoulder. She was going into shock when we left her." Blackwell didn't respond immediately. I wished he would. I almost expected him to suddenly crack and blow up in my face.
"Shots to the shoulder aren't usually deadly," he told himself quietly.
"I'm really sorry."
"Wasn't your fault."
"I'm really sorry about everything. You're going through so much trouble for us."
"What you're doing has to be more important than anything I've ever done."
"Well…" I wanted to deny that, on instinct, but I really couldn't. What was it Laudes had told me in those last few moments?
"Riley, I picked up your prescription," said Blackwell, tossing a little white paper bag into the back seat.
"You're a god," said Riley, opening the stapled bag.
"Riley, how are you feeling? You have a concussion and your head just got slammed into the ground," I reminded him.
"Yes, Ben, thank you, I remember that part vividly."
"Concussion must not be that bad," said Blackwell. I was still looking at Riley expectantly. He sighed, resigned.
"I have a mild headache, it's not a cluster, kind of feel nauseous, have a headache, my head hurts, I'm tired, I'm dizzy, and my head kind of hurts."
"Well, for a concussion, you sure are lucky, Mr. Poole. Seems as though you slipped through that one without any serious damage."
"I liked Riley better."
"Alright, Riley. Can you get the internet from here?"
"If my computer turns on, I can get something like the internet, yes." Mrs. Blackwell handed Riley's computer back to him and I watched him wipe the mud away and turn it on. Miraculously, it still worked. While it booted up I tried to remember any questions I wanted to ask Blackwell, tried to pull them out of the fuzzy last few hours.
"So Jeremy blew up the clinic, right?"
"Yes, I believe he did. I think Laudes didn't call the police, I think she called Jeremy."
"You don't seem too disturbed by the fact that your nephew and your sister-in-law are part of a very evil organization behind your back and are trying to kill us all," stated Riley. I wanted to ask the same thing but I just didn't have the guts at the moment. It could be a sensitive question. Leave it to Riley to deal with those.
"I've never been close to Jeremy. He's a mystery to me, and I always suspected he was up to no good. Didn't think he'd involve himself in something this big, but I'm not surprised. As for Laudes… she's overly fond of the boy." Boy? Jeremy had to be at least twenty-five years old. Although Riley wasn't that much younger and we still called him a kid sometimes. "She'd follow him to hell and back. I've never been too fond of her, either. I mean, sure, for a sister-in-law, she's great." He seemed like he wanted to continue but he stayed silent.
"Alright, doc, what do you want looked up?"
"Atomoxitine."
"What? Why?"
"The other clusterhead in Henrytown has ADHD." This was met with blank stares from the other three in the car.
"Aaaaaand so you think I have ADHD?" Riley apparently didn't know how to connect the dots.
"No, he thinks cluster headaches are a side-effect of atomoxitine, right, Blackwell?"
"Not… really. Riley, it doesn't matter whether you have CFS or ADHD, but-"
"Now hold on!" cried Riley, sounding upset.
"Why don't you guys trust me when I say I have CFS? I know I seem a little too neurotic for that, and it's suspicious that I'm taking atomoxitine and everything, but obviously I'm not going to be chronically fatigued, because I'm taking atomoxitine. Why can't you guys just believe me? I can tell you anything you want to know about CFS and I won't know a thing about ADHD. Seriously, ask me anything."
"Riley, we're sorry, we believe you," said Blackwell, sounding a bit exasperated, "but it really doesn't matter. What matters is that you're taking atomoxitine. Do you know the contents of atomoxitine?"
"No," Riley replied miserably. I could tell he wasn't listening to the next few moments of what Blackwell was talking about, and neither was I, because as much as I'd been trying to follow all the medical stuff being thrown around, he was basically listing off the ingredients of atomoxitine, and I really didn't think I'd ever remember, or need to. Riley looked pretty upset, and I thought I understood why. No-one seemed to believe him about his medical history. That would sure annoy me. Knowing that my best friend didn't trust me enough to believe me when I said I had CFS, not ADHD. And I knew Riley would trust me if I told him my natural hair color was blonde. The guilt started settling into my stomach as I tuned back into what Blackwell was saying.
"So there's nothing in atomoxitine that would trigger a headache. Right?"
"Right," I replied, feeling like I was back in school.
"Not in normal atomoxitine anyways. Riley, I'm guessing you got your first atomoxitine at a QuinceDrug?" Riley's eyes screwed up, trying to remember.
"I don't remember that far back."
"But about eighteen months ago, you switched drug stores, right?"
"Well, yeah, it… what? How did you know?"
"And you got your newest prescription of atomoxitine from another QuinceDrug?"
"What the heck, are you psychic? Do you have the shining?"
"In Henrytown we get our medications delivered from the QuinceDrug in Salt Lake City." The gears in my head were turning but nothing was coming out… something was skipping along the very edge of my mind. Like a mosquito.
"Um… ok?" Riley apparently wasn't getting it either.
"Riley, see if you can't hack into some QuinceDrug files and find out where they get their atomoxitine."
"Okedoke," he said, relieved to be doing something he knew how to do instead of trying to figure out the mysteries of the universe. Unfortunately I was still stuck trying to figure them out. Nothing was coming to me but I sensed Blackwell was about to tell us something very unpleasant.
"QuinceDrug…" Riley muttered, staring at the screen. "Atomoxitine shipments… I don't see how this could possibly be relevant to anything at all… from a place called Good Earth Medicine in Des Moines, Iowa. Ok. Now what?"
"Do some looking into this Good Earth Place."
"What am I looking for?" he asked, frustrated.
"Anything about atomoxitine." Riley kept clicking and typing, looking troubled. I was pretty sure I knew what was going on, and I wasn't really surprised, but it did make me feel kind of sick to my stomach.
"Ok, I've… wait, there's a password." Clickclickclickclick. Tap.
"Alright, here's the ingredients."
"See anything suspicious?"
"Aha, how would I know what's suspicious? You think I can remember all that stuff you just named off?"
"Ok… do you see anything about steroids or corticosteroids?"
"No."
"Anything about dipsogen, oligopeptide, or aldosterone?"
"Um…"
"Nitroglycerin, histamine-"
"Wait wait wait, slow down. Ummm, no, no, no… nitroglycerin, no, histamine, no. There's a little asterisk next to something called 'ethanomine', though."
"Well, that's it. That's exactly it," Blackwell said, emphasizing his point by slapping the steering wheel.
"What?"
"Ethanomine is a histamine."
"And so…"
"By nature, when you put histamines in with the main ingredients of atomoxitine, any patients taking it with heart disease, high or low blood pressure, or lung disease are at great risk." Blackwell sounded as if he was reading from a text book. Riley looked mildly impressed, and more than a little thankful.
"Well I sure am glad I don't have heart disease, high or low blood pressure, or lung disease. Why don't they just not give this stuff to people like that?"
"Listen. Ethanomine shouldn't be in there. It doesn't need to be, it's got no use."
"Then why don't they…" Whatever had been prancing around at the edge of my perception decided to start falling through the roof. Riley looked at me.
"Then Good Earth Medicine is one of those places… that put stuff in stuff… that kills people…" said Riley in a very 'Ooooohhh, I get it now' voice. Curiously, he turned back to Blackwell.
"Holy cow, you're like Sherlock."
"Riley, histamine is one of the triggers of cluster headaches. You started getting clusters when you were sixteen, right?" Riley didn't respond. He was thinking. I understood though. This division of the organization was poisoning a whole branch of people, killing them, and giving the ones that weren't already unhealthy but had a very specific neurological make up, that was just waiting to burst into pain, cluster headaches. Like Riley. My best friend. I expected it to dawn on him any second now, and when that happened I thought maybe he'd get really moody, maybe sad, maybe angry.
He smiled.
"Are you freaking kidding me? Are you serious? Wait, wait, hold on, let me get this straight. I get cluster headaches… because of taking atomoxitine from QuinceDrug?"
"That's about the gist of it, yes," responded Blackwell, sounding slightly concerned.
"So… if I stop taking atomoxitine from QuinceDrug – or any other drug store that gets their atomoxitine from Good Earth Medicine – I… will… stop… getting headaches?"
"Ahhh… you should, yes."
"YES!!" His shout equaled the intensity of the collapsing building.
"I LOVE you guys! Especially Blackwell! I'd hug you but I'm way back here and you're driving!"
"Riley, it could be a few weeks yet. Have you taken your Verapamil?" Riley shut up for a moment to take the pills. The sun was rising and painting the monoliths on either side of us bright, fiery orange, I was in the car escaping with my best friend who would soon meet the end of his cluster headaches, and one of the kindest and smartest men I had ever encountered, and his angelic wife. And we were escaping. I didn't know exactly where we were going, but there was still no-one following us. I allowed myself a small smile. Were we actually going to get out of this one alive? Had it actually been less than a day since this whole thing had started? Yes. Yes it had. So much had happened.
Riley still had a grin splitting his face in half.
"You want to look something else up for me?" I asked.
"Yeah, sure."
"Look up 'ghost dance'."
Blackwell slammed on the breaks. The car stopped. He put it in park. He turned around and looked at me.
"Did you just say 'ghost dance'?"
"Yes...Last two words I heard Laudes say before we had to leave." Blackwell settled back into his seat, let out a whoosh of breath. Now what? I asked myself. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. I didn't know what 'ghost dance' was but apparently it wasn't anything good. Blackwell started driving again. Mrs. Blackwell turned around to look at us for the first time since entering the car.
"You kids ever remember studying the Wounded Knee Massacre?"
"Well, yes… In high school, a little in college. It was a long time ago, though," I responded. Riley just shook his head in bewilderment. Mrs. Blackwell continued.
"Probably the most publicized event relating to the Ghost Dance movement."
"What is that? What's the Ghost Dance movement?"
"Bastards," muttered Blackwell under his breath, as Mrs. Blackwell opened her mouth to answer. I wonder who were the bastards, this secret organization, or the members of the Ghost Dance movement. Actually, most likely, they were the same. Maybe he was calling us bastards for our ignorance.
"In the 1890's, the United States government had established American Indian reservations across the country. In that century, though, conditions had worsened a lot for the Indians, and many were starving. They didn't understand why such terrible things were allowed to happen. Sometime around then an Indian by the name of Wovoka pronounced himself the messiah, told all Indians that would believe him that if they followed his practice, all white men would be buried under a new Earth that would descend from the sky, along with all of their dead and honored Ancestors. Earth and the people would be renewed. And it would all be done without violence – it was a message of peace."
At this point I was feeling especially awkward. I don't believe that right now in the continuum of time everyone has forgiven everyone else for what their ancestors have done. Just look at Wilkinson. One tiny example. Although I believe it's completely irrational of me, I still feel a pang of guilt when I hear about the African American slavery, or the way the white man treated the American Indians, just two of many, many examples. And here was this sweet looking old Indian lady telling me, a white guy who happened to be hopelessly ignorant on this topic, about how my ancestors had, well, made her ancestors miserable. But she looked completely blameless. I felt no guilt because of the way she told the story or the way she looked at me.
"So naturally, under the given conditions, the people were willing to do almost anything to improve what their lives were then. And they were told that the way to stop the white man's trespassing on the native land was to learn the Ghost Dance and the songs that went with it. And they did. They fervently believed in this new religion, and so the movement became more widespread as more people heard about it, more groups started practicing the Ghost Dance." She stopped. Was she done? She looked done.
"That's the Ghost Dance." She turned back around in her seat. Riley poked his finger in the air, as if he had a question. He quickly realized she couldn't see him and so spoke up.
"Um, Mrs. Blackwell, what happened? To the Indians?" She turned back around, shadow of a smile on her face. Riley could have easily looked this all up on the internet, but he would rather hear it from her, I knew, because I felt the same way.
"Tatanka Iyotaka, Sitting Bull, a leader amongst the Sioux, led his people to follow the practice. But in 1890 the white man had broken a land treaty with his people, and so great bitterness existed between the white people and the Sioux people. The white man saw the Sioux dancing the Ghost Dance and they took it to be a prelude to war, which it was for the Sioux. The white man became terrified with the fervent nature of the dances. So in December of 1890 Tatanka Iyotaka was killed, and his followers joined with the people of one of his relatives." She paused, looking almost hesitant.
"The rest isn't important. It doesn't have anything to do with this." We continued to stare at her. I knew how this ended, the story was coming back to me. Riley turned his gaze from Mrs. Blackwell to me. Apparently he had no idea.
"And so we tracked down the group of Ghost Dancers at Wounded Knee Creek. And we killed them," I muttered. I was quite suddenly disturbed by my use of 'we'. It most definitely hadn't been me that had done that.
"I think, however," said Mrs. Blackwell, turning back to us, "that you might try to look up something called millenarianism." Millenarianism? What the heck did that mean? Both of the Blackwells were like geniuses. Riley tapped away at his computer.
"Ok, I've got it on Wikipedia… dadada… oh my. It says, 'millenarian groups typically claim that the current society and its rulers are corrupt, unjust, or otherwise wrong. They therefore believe they will be destroyed soon by a powerful force.'. Aaaand, here it mentions the Ghost Dance, says the movement was a 'prominent example'. Wow, look at all these – al-Qaeda, Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormons, Rastafarians, shakers…" I cut him off.
"So what we're dealing with here is a… a group of Indians who are continuing the movement underground, kind of? They haven't forgiven the whites from taking their land yet?" Blackwell's response was terse.
"No. They can't possibly think they're following in the footsteps of their ancestors. Dancing and praying is one thing, putting poison in people's medications and rendering thousands of people miserable is completely different. If this is an Indian group, they're definitely a very radical and very angry bunch of people."
"Wait a minute… Laudes told me something else… she said something like these people are anyone who… believed. That they're from everywhere. And she said…" She'd said something that had seemed darned important at the time. I wracked my brain.
"She said it wasn't just the US. It's everybody." Riley looked at me, Blackwell glanced at us in the rearview mirror. I continued slowly.
"And that Jeremy shot her to do her a favor…and that kind of infers… that these people expect to die, too." The vehicle was quiet and I suspected everybody was in deep thought. Again. Riley even looked a bit panicked. He shut his computer.
"Blackwell," he asked, a note of anxiety in his voice. He dumped the contents of the paper prescription bag on the seat between us. "How do you work this sumatriptan?"
Blackwell slowed and stopped. By the time he'd gotten the syringe in his hand Riley's eye was once again teary, face a familiar shade of pain. I looked away as Blackwell did the job quickly, then got back into the car. I ventured a glance to Riley's arm and grimaced inwardly – it was bruising already. I was suddenly very grateful for my lack of conditions that would require subcutaneous control. I didn't know how I'd deal with that kind of treatment. Riley was trying his best to hold back the outward symptoms of torturous inward pain, and was doing a pretty decent job… that is, until he kind of started sagging onto the seat between us.
"Riley? Are you ok?"
"I, uh… feels funny… ow…" It was as if he had been shot with a tranquilizer dart. All the color had drained from his face, and his visage shut down to a blank stare.
"Riley!" I exclaimed. "Blackwell, he just… I think he just fainted." Mrs. Blackwell glanced back at him, concerned. Blackwell himself just sighed.
"Check his vitals. Is he breathing?" I put my hand in front of Riley's face.
"Faintly, yes."
"Check the pulse." I took Riley's wrist in my hands and searched for the pulse, finding it quickly.
"Still beating… feels kind of fast."
"Eyes." I peeled Riley's lids back. The pupils seemed to be nearing the same size.
"They look a little better."
"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do, then, he'll have to wake up in his own time. Heart rate went up when the headache started, was too much for the concussion. He should be fine." Anger started bubbling around in my head. Probably irrational, but Riley was unconscious, for heaven' sake, that wasn't good. Didn't Blackwell want to check Riley out just in case?
"I don't mean to alarm anybody," said Blackwell calmly from the front seat, "But there seems to be a string of cars approaching us from ahead…" I sat straight, looked through the windshield. There were six of them, all different kinds, rapidly approaching. Blackwell must have been able to see them minutes ago.
"I'm just going to keep driving. Ben, you duck." I ducked, leaning over Riley's body. There were a few moments of silence and I prayed we would pass them by, they would keep driving. I wondered how far away they were now. And now. Had we passed them yet? Blackwell was being awfully silent, but the car was still going the same speed…
He slammed on the breaks, cursing in a language I didn't understand. Mrs. Blackwell gasped. The car stopped, screeching loudly. I heard doors slamming around me, shouts, lots of shouting, all of it angry sounding.
"Well…" said Blackwell, "I think we should get out." I peeked above the door and my heart sunk to my stomach. We were surrounded by six carloads of people wielding guns. One man stepped forward a bit, out of the crowd. The rest of the people hushed up.
"Get out of the car, now. Stand in front of it." His voice was firm, no-nonsense. So was his face. His skin was bronze, cheekbones wide, short hair straight and black… and his eyes were like almond-shaped slits, slanting inwards. This guy wasn't an American Indian. He had the accent to prove it. He was Chinese.
I pulled the computer off of Riley's lap and shoved it under the seat before crawling out of the car, hands up, following what the Blackwells were doing. They were going to kill us now, I knew it. I'd been in a lot of situations… well, at least two… when there'd been a gun aimed at my head. But never before had I been so sure that I was going to die. They had no reason to let me live, did they? I didn't know anymore but I knew they were ruthless. They were willing to kill. Were these the so-called Ghost Dancers?
What about Riley? I was almost grateful he was out. If we were about to be killed, he would never know. That thought saddened me and almost brought tears to my eyes. That would mean that for all intents and purposes, he was already dead. He had seen the last of his conscious moments. Riley was already gone.
The Chinese man stepped forward, still aiming at my head.
"Where's Riley Poole?" So they knew who we were. I didn't see why I should tell him, if he was just going to kill us anyways. I stayed silent. The man walked up to me and swung the butt of the gun at my temple; I ducked swiftly, but he was too quick - knocked me in the head on the upswing of his next aim. Once again, I was seeing stars as pain overwhelmed my head, blossoming rapidly from the point of impact, I could feel the sensation crawling into all of my nerve endings. I couldn't hear anything for a moment, it felt as if cottenballs had been shoved in my ears. The pavement tilted upwards until it was parallel to my body and slammed into me. I held onto it – it felt like the only solid thing at the moment. The sensation of the warm pavement under my clothing and skin, so solid and immobile, felt comfortable, and in my state of brief deafness and fuzzy vision, everything was slow and dreamy… I wanted to sleep…
A large black shoe was approaching rapidly and I felt the impact in my abdomen, rendering me breathless, pulling me out of the trance-like state I had been in. I heard a gunshot, as if from a distance, muffled shouting, a car door opening. My hearing was slowly coming back, a funny ring in my right ear. Vision was clearing. I still felt like I'd just stepped off of the Tilt-A-Whirl of Doom and couldn't quite bring myself to rise from the ground. An oddly-shaped blob was cutting across my vision, must have been a person a few yards away. They looked like a hunchback. No… two people. A man with another slung over his shoulder.
The man was carrying Riley.
Towards one of the cars.
Well, that just wasn't acceptable. The Chinese man seemed to be instructing the Blackwells about something or another but I didn't really hear them. I pulled my head off the ground, feeling like my skull and the pavement were magnetically attracted. Chinese man was walking to one of the cars. Got my chest off the ground, arms underneath me. I could do it. Riley wasn't in a car yet, the man hadn't arrived at the right one… One knee under me, Chinese man disappeared. Where was everybody else? Two knees. Where was Riley? Gone already? There he went, shoved like a stuffed dummy into that little green Focus. I made myself tall again, tried to stilt towards them on impossibly long legs, what was wrong with me, I couldn't focus on anything. The cars were started up, some were moving. Blackwell? Yes, in the background, telling me to stop. I knew something he didn't, though, I had seen them take Riley. In that Focus. Driving away. I'd just have to run after it, then. I lunged forward and once again the ground was tilting up to meet me face-on. It must have been conspiring with the Ghost Dancers. Black pavement obscured my vision and for the brief second before I lost consciousness I wondered whether I was being buried alive by the new Earth.
If you find anything about this still unclear and want an answer, just ask away, I'll try to clarify.