Rewrite Redemption (30 page)

A bath would be a good idea
, I thought.

After about twenty minutes my legs began to cramp. I stretched out slowly, trying to change positions without making noise. A stick cracked and I jerked reflexively. Joe and Edgar stopped talking for a moment. I held my breath, waiting.

Then buzzzzzzzzz!!!! 

Oh, no, no, no…! Lex’s phone alarm!
I jerked and knocked my head against the rock, lurching for the backpack. Ignoring the pain, I frantically rifled through the pack, grabbed the phone, and hit off. The abrupt silence was more startling than the alarm.

I heard them scuffle, probably going for their guns. “What the heck?” one of them hissed. “What made that racket?”

“Over there,” said the other.

I clutched the backpack, frozen with fear. I had no way to explain the phone. In movies, when people got caught with tech from the future, they always got burned at the stake—especially if they had red hair. My hair wasn’t red, but it was auburn—close enough. A particularly gruesome scene flashed through my mind. Shaking uncontrollably, I flung the pack out of sight in the bushes. Then I inched back between the rocks as far as I could squeeze. I dropped my face to my hands, and waited, holding my aching head.

I heard a cackle and then a grunt. “Well, looky here,” one of them said.

When I looked up there were two shotguns pointed my way.  

This wasn’t a movie. This was real.

Once again, we walked in silence. What we had to say was too important to be said on the run, as though the air had ears and could carry our words in the wind. We shared a secret that was so big; we were instantly connected. When we reached the car, she got in beside me and laid her head back against the seat with her eyes closed. I just drove and let her have her space. We reached A.J.’s place in record time.

She didn’t seem to notice that I knew the way.

The old Victorian was shabby in the harsh, noonday sun. Apparently, no one had been to the front door in years; the path to the porch was completely grown over. Only the side path showed signs of regular traffic. I pulled up in front.

Lex opened her eyes when I stopped. She looked out the window, and then she looked over at me. “Been here before, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, hoping she didn’t get pissed off. Why play games? It would all come out at some point anyway. We got out and headed for the back.

“I suppose you have a good explanation?”

“I do,” I said. “At least I think it’s a good one. I didn’t mean any harm, if that matters.”

“It does,” she said, “elaborate.”

“I just needed to know where she lived…long story.”

“Let’s get inside,” she said, pushing open the gate.

In the dark, the tree house had impressed me. In daylight, I was blown away. The place was incredible. Lex eyed the back door warily as we tramped through the yard. Watching for A.J.’s dad, maybe? She scrambled up the ladder, motioning me to follow. We stepped up onto a porch, and she pulled out a key and unlocked the door. “A.J.?” she said softly as she pushed it open. She let out a loud breath when there was no answer.

We walked inside, and she dropped her stuff on a coffee table made of some kind of exotic wood. She stood there for a moment, watching me look around. “New Guy,” she said, “I want answers. But first I really need to pee. So get your oohs and awes over with, and I’ll be back in two minutes. When I do, be prepared to spill.”

“This place has a bathroom?”

“I wish,” she as she walked out the door and across the bridge.

I tossed my backpack in a corner. I was prepared for the thrill of being in A.J.’s space no matter what it looked like, but the inside blew my mind. The room was split in two by the trunk which acted as a kind of room divide. To the left was a brown, leather sofa. A big TV hung on the wall across from it. Above the sofa, books traversed long, inset shelves that reached to the ceiling. The floor was polished hardwood, worn smooth from use. The whole place had a really comfortable vibe.

The other side had a kitchenette across one wall. Opposite that were a long, built-in desk, three chairs, and three computer stations. Shelves and cupboards were built in everywhere. Like a high-end, yacht galley, no space went unused.

The planked walls and floors were old and worn with a soft sheen like finished mahogany. There was metal worked into the wood in really artistic ways. The room was a piece of art. I ran my hands down the doorframe, unable to keep from touching the wood. Silky smoothness, like polished petrified wood or glass, but warm like you’d imagine the skin of a marble statue come alive. A rush rippled up my fingers and arms and enveloped me—pure tree bliss combined with a strong jolt of A.J.’s energy added in for spice—
whoa
.

The whole tree house was alive.

For a moment I forgot everything but that soul-soothing current of calm. I sucked it up greedily. I floated on power, rejuvenating, revitalizing, reenergizing.

Suddenly, I felt a strange sensation. The tree pulled on me, as if it was calling me to jump. My signature was blocked—no way should that be happening. You have to
initiate
a trip; it doesn’t come out of nowhere. You have to connect to the right ring. You have to adjust your vibrations to the patterns of the time frame. This was like the TV playing without a power source.

The pull was strong, enticing, compelling. Reluctantly, I pulled my hands away, shook them, took a breath, and tried again. The pull was stronger still. It reached down inside me and swirled around my core, compelling, enticing…
commanding
. Okay, there were things going on there I didn’t understand. Maybe it had something to do with the melding.

Now I was the one wanting answers.

 “Whadda we have here?” asked the one called Joe. He spit a wad of brown goop at my feet and leered at me.

I flinched and pulled my hat tighter on my head. The big one grinned and gestured at me with his shotgun. “Who are you, boy? Whadaya doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

 I looked up at them without answering. My head throbbed from knocking it on the rocks, and I felt a little dizzy. I wasn’t exactly seeing double, but I was having a hard time focusing. I didn’t know if I could get up without falling over. And besides, it all seemed so surreal, like I was in some Nick at Nite cowboy movie. I didn’t really know how to respond.

 “Hey, boy, I’m talkin’ to you,” Joe snarled, nudging me with his toe. “How’d you make that racket?”

What do I do now, guys?
I asked in my head to Lex and Ipod—neither of whom seemed to have anything to say. My mind was blank. I swallowed and tried to speak. “I—”

“Give him a minute, Joe. Can’t you see he’s about to piss his pants?” said the big one.

Joe hooted and then reached out and grabbed me by the arm. “Come outta there, boy.” He pulled me to my feet and out of the rocks, looking suspiciously at my clothes. “Skinny little thing, ain’t he? How’d you make that noise?”

 The big one spoke. “Where you from, boy? Whadaya doin’ out here by yourself?”

 “Umm CCColorado,” I stammered, clutching my hoodie tight around me. I searched frantically for the Indian, but couldn’t see him anywhere.

“CCColorado? You ever heard of that, Joe?”

“Nope.” Joe yanked me by the arm out into the open. “Why you dressed so funny?” he asked suspiciously. “Looky this, Edgar. Feel this. Ever feel anything this soft?” They both fingered my hoodie. “Ever seen buttons like that? Whadaya think they’re made of?”

“Don’t rightly know.”

 “Look at the tiny stitchin’ on this thing,” Joe said. “Never seen such even stichin’. This has got to cost a pretty penny. This is some kind of fancy boy. Whatdaya doin’ out here, fancy boy?”

“Leave me alone!” I growled. I scowled, wrapped my arms around myself, and backed up a few steps.

“Whoa, spunk! Come back here, boy,” said Joe.

I didn’t move.

“I said, come here, boy,” Joe snarled, glaring at me and chewing on his mustache.

I inched forward, wobbling as I held my hand to my head.

He grabbed my arm again and dragged me, stumbling, back to the campsite. He shoved me against a large cottonwood, making my head scream with pain. “You stay put while we have a little powwow,” he ordered. “Don’t even think a runnin’.”

They walked a few yards away and began talking animatedly, keeping their voices low, probably figuring out what to do with me.

Free for the moment, I turned to the tree. I grabbed on to the trunk, hugging it tight, connecting with its energy. I soaked it up fast, pulling as much power as I could while I had the chance. The dizziness passed. The pain faded and my vision cleared. Halfway myself again, I looked over at the two men.

Apparently, they’d come to some kind of decision, because they were nodding their heads and grinning. “What’s yer name, boy?” the big one asked.

My mind went blank.

“Hey, Edgar here asked you a question!” Joe growled, starting towards me. “You need to show a little—”

“Elmo,” I blurted out, grabbing the name from
Sesame Street
.

“You got family nearby, Elmo?” Edgar asked.

I didn’t know what the safest answer was. I decided on yes. I nodded.

“Where they at, then?”

“Umm, hunting,” I answered, “but they’re coming back soon.”

“Take a look around, Joe,” Edgar said.

Joe climbed up the hill and scanned the horizon.

“Don’t see nothin’,” he called as he slid back down. “Looks like we got ourselves a prize, eh, Edgar?”

“Looks like,” agreed Edgar, grinning.

“So Elmo, we been thinkin’ how nice it would be if we had ourselves a cook…someone to clean up, brush down the horses, gather wood, and make camp. We wuz thinkin’ about gettin’ ourselves a squaw. But the injuns don’t like parting with their squaws…take real offense at it, they do. So maybe you might do just fine instead,” Joe smirked. “Whadaya think, Edgar?”

“Just fine,” Edgar answered.

“So you stay put, boy. No way can you outrun us, and there’s nowhere to go. We got horses, and you’re on foot. We got guns, and I have myself a mighty fine whip. Don’t you go makin’ us use them,” Joe said, lifting the whip off his saddle. “You hear me, boy?” He flicked the whip out and snapped it back with a loud crack.

I nodded and huddled against the tree. Fear kept my breathing shallow and erratic. They sat down by the fire, chugging on a whisky bottle. I leaned against the tree thinking hard. The pepper spray was in my back jeans pocket. Surreptitiously as I could, I pulled it to the front. I checked for my knife, which was a joke. What was I going to do, knife fight a couple of men? As if. I waited…anxiously.

Finally the Indian strolled back into camp holding a couple of fat, brown rabbits by the ears. He glanced at me, lifted his eyebrows slightly, and sat down on a log as though he’d seen nothing unusual.

“Look what we found, Chief,” Joe cackled.

“We got ourselves a prize,” Edgar added, grinning ear to ear—which, I might add, was not a pretty sight. He shuffled around in his pocket and pulled hunk of something black. He hacked a chunk off with his knife, stuck it in his mouth, and began to chew. Could he be any more disgusting?

The Indian just grunted and took his knife to a rabbit. It took him less than a minute to lop off the head, scoop out the guts, and whip off the skin. I shuddered. I didn’t know that you could just peel a whole hunk of skin off like that. My scalp tightened and I swallowed hard.