Captive! (2 page)

The driver coughed nervously and checked the mirror every few seconds to see if they were being followed.

The bus had been outside the city limits for almost an hour, heading northwest. It
was still quiet. The men barely spoke to each other, and only an occasional tense whisper could be heard from the back of the bus.

The short blond man continued to pace back and forth. Miss Bently had recovered enough to speak quietly to him when he reached the front. “Why are you doing this? These children all have families and homes. They’ll be missed.”

“That’s what we’re counting on, Teach.”

“But the authorities will come after you. You can’t hope to get away with this.”

The man smiled and pulled something out of his pocket—a hand grenade. Miss Bently’s hand flew to her mouth. She drew a sharp breath, and there was a scream from somewhere in the back of the bus. All eyes were on the grenade.

Ripper savored the moment. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll bother us. We left word that if any cops try to come near us, we’ll blow this bus to kingdom come.” He tossed the grenade in the air a couple of times and
then slid it into his pocket. “You see, lady, you and your class are our hostages. You’re our special insurance to make sure my partner and me get what we want.”

“And what is that?”

“Don’t talk to the dress, Ripper.” Spoon glanced up into the mirror. “She don’t need to know nothin’.”

The blond man glared at him. “Shut up, Spoon. I’m running things and I’ll decide who I want to talk to.”

Spoon glared back but didn’t say anything. He waved one hand in disgust and then concentrated on his driving.

Ripper turned his attention back to Miss Bently. “This is how it’s going to work, Teach. I’m takin’ you and your class to a special place out in the desert. It’s so far out in the boondocks nobody could ever find us. After we get you settled, we’ll let the cops in on the rest of our plan.”

“Which is?” Miss Bently asked stiffly.

Ripper laughed a low, deep, satisfied laugh. “Simple. They bring us three million dollars
and an airplane, and we give them back their precious little kiddies.”

“What if they don’t?”

Ripper grabbed the teacher’s face and squeezed hard. “Then they don’t get any of you back—ever.”

The bus gave a lunge and jerked to a stop on the side of the road. Black smoke boiled out from under the hood, and the air smelled like burning rubber. Spoon cursed, threw open the doors, and rushed outside to see what the problem was.

He raised the hood and more thick black smoke came rolling out. Then he raced back inside and whispered something in Ripper’s ear. Ripper quickly followed him down the steps.

“Now’s our chance.” Jeff Dodsen stood up and moved to the back exit of the bus.

Roman had been propped lazily in the corner of his seat as if the whole thing held absolutely no interest for him, but when he saw Jeff reach for the door he grabbed his arm.

Jeff jerked his arm away. “Hey! What are you doing, man? I think I can make it.”

Roman whispered, “The door has an alarm, stupid. You wouldn’t get ten feet.”

Jeff’s face flushed bright red. He sank into the seat across from Roman’s, almost squashing Woody the Worm. “Then what do you suggest, hotshot? Just sit here and let that idiot blow us all to bits?”

Mitch Tyson held a finger to his lips. Then he let his window down so that he could hear the conversation going on outside. “Check it out, guys,” he said in a low voice. “Those two are acting like they’re real bus drivers and trying to get cars to stop and help.”

“Look.” Woody pointed out the window. “That delivery truck is pulling over.”

A man dressed in a crisp white uniform stepped out of the truck and walked back to the bus. They saw Ripper give the man a
toothy grin, shake hands, and lead him off to the side.

Spoon hastily squeezed through the bus doors and climbed the steps. “All right, everybody, there’s been a slight change in plans. I know you’ll be disappointed, but it turns out that some of you don’t get to go on our little field trip after all.” He moved down the aisle, looking at the students. “You.” He pointed at Mitch. “Get outside. And you three in the back of the bus. Get off.”

Roman put his head back and closed his eyes. He let out a deep breath, stood up, and started down the aisle after Mitch.

Jeff grabbed Woody and pushed the smaller boy ahead of him. He whispered loudly enough that Roman could hear him. “Look at the big man. Everybody at school thinks you’re so tough. You’re nothing but a big wimp—a yellow coward.”

At the front of the bus, Miss Bently gave them a feeble smile. “Try not to worry, boys. I’m sure the authorities are doing all they can.” She had tears in her eyes as the four boys moved down the steps and off the bus.

Outside they saw the delivery man lying facedown in the dirt beside the front wheel of the bus. Blood trickled from an open wound on the back of his head.

Ripper growled at his partner. “Get these kids in the truck, Spoon, and make it quick. We’re behind schedule.”

Spoon jerked open the back door of the delivery truck and motioned with his gun for the four boys to get in. He locked the door and headed for the driver’s side.

Roman pulled his jacket around him and sat on the cold metal floor of the panel truck. The other boys crowded near the back and watched out the small round windows as they pulled away and the school bus disappeared from sight.

It was late at night, and in the back of the truck it was hard to see. Just about the time their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they would pass through another small town and the glare of the streetlights would flood in through the circular windows in the back door.

Mitch had discovered two loaves of bread that the delivery man must have forgotten, or hadn’t had time to deliver, and passed them out.

Woody felt around in his backpack and found an apple left over from lunch. “Anybody
want some? I don’t have anything to cut it with, but …”

Roman pulled a knife out of his pocket. “Here, use this.”

Woody fumbled with the knife and managed to slice the apple into four parts. He passed them out and handed the knife back to Roman. “What do you think those guys are going to do to us?”

Roman put the knife in his pocket. “For now … nothing. They need us alive.”

“They obviously don’t intend to feed us.” Mitch bit into his piece of apple.

“I could have been long gone by now,” Jeff muttered. “Next time—”

“Next time we’ll wait for the right opportunity. Not some stupid move that’ll get us all killed.” Roman settled back against the wall.

“Who died and put you in charge?” Jeff smirked.

Roman sat up straight, dwarfing the other three boys. “Look, we’ve all got something to contribute here. Take Mitch. He’s so full of bull, he could talk a bum out of his last dime. And the Worm’s got enough brains to make an
atomic bomb. And if we’re real lucky, we might even find a use for you, Super Jock.”

Jeff’s jaw tightened and his fists doubled. “Oh yeah? All I know is you were the one who wimped out on the bus.”

Roman leaned back again. “Save it, football brain. I’ll be happy to settle the score when we get out of this.”

The truck pulled to a stop, and the boys scrambled to the windows to see where they were. The truck was parked beside some old gas pumps at a small-town gas staion called Freddie’s. An elderly man was on duty. He sat behind the counter, ignoring them, reading a newspaper.

Roman leaned close to Woody. “You got anything to write with in your backpack?”

Woody nodded and took out a green Magic Marker.

“Put it in your pocket. Mitch, the Worm and I need to get inside that gas station. See if you can convince them to let us out.”

“Will do.” Mitch knocked on the wall of the truck. The back door opened a crack and
Spoon snarled, “Keep it quiet in there or else.”

Mitch whined, “We really, really gotta take a bathroom break, mister.”

The door closed and then opened again. Spoon stuck his face in. “Ripper says okay. But only two at a time. Don’t try anything funny or the two left out here won’t last long.”

Roman shoved Woody ahead of him. “You and I will go first.”

Spoon followed them to the bathroom at the side of the station and waited for them outside the door.

Roman locked the door behind them. “Quick, give me the marker.”

Woody handed it to him. “What are you going to do?”

“Watch.” Roman went into one of the stalls and wrote on the wall:

He wrote the date and paused. Woody touched his arm. “Why don’t you put the license plate number? It’s JXY 992.”

Roman smiled. “I knew you were a genius.”

Woody shook his head. “Photographic memory.”

Spoon banged on the door. “Get out of there, you runts, before I blast the door open. Ripper’s ready to go.”

Woody moved to the door and unlocked it. Spoon pulled him out and pushed him toward the truck. “Tell the other two they’re out of luck. Ripper won’t wait no more.”

When they were back inside, Woody looked at Roman. “Do you think it’ll help much?”

Roman shrugged. “Depends. The police are probably trying to get a fix on our location. If somebody reports our message, they might get to us sooner.”

“Big man,” Jeff scoffed. “What would you know about the police?”

Mitch elbowed him. “His dad was a lieutenant on the force. He was killed in the line of duty last year. That’s why Roman’s a grade behind. He stayed home to help his mom.”

“Shut up, mouth,” Roman growled. “You talk too much.”

“I heard your dad was part of a special forces SWAT team,” Woody said. “Everybody says he taught you karate, and that the two of you used to go around the country giving exhibitions at schools and stuff.”

The truck made a sharp left and pulled onto a gravel road.

“This may be something.” Roman tried to listen. “From here on everybody pays attention. Nobody sleeps. I want to know every detail we can possibly remember from the time we left that pavement.”

The truck was steadily climbing upward. They had turned right three times after leaving the pavement. Now they weren’t even sure they were still on a road. The terrain was rocky and uneven, and they could hear tree limbs hitting the outside of the truck as it moved along.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Woody said. “Ripper told Miss Bently he was taking us to the desert.”

“He lied, stupid.” Jeff bounced in the air and came down hard. “Ouch! What do you think, he’s gonna give away the location of his hideout so she can run and tell the police?”

“We could be anywhere.” Mitch sighed and tried to find something to hold on to. “They’ll never find us.”

Suddenly the truck plunged downward and stopped. They could hear the two men get out and slam the doors but couldn’t see anything. It was silent for a few minutes and then they heard Ripper yelling.