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Post by bretf on Nov 12, 2019 7:49:08 GMT -6
Chapter 7
The first week of school seemed to fly past. Brian decided time was passing in relation to the amount he had remaining; the less he had, the faster it went. As it flashed by, he was no closer to a solution to his problem. The pressure to find respite intensified with every new digit that appeared on the clock.
During school, he caught Jennifer looking at him several times. Most times, she’d smile and look away. On one occasion, he was standing at his locker and she stopped. “I’m looking forward to hearing your report about summer, Brian. I’m sure it’ll be good,” she said and walked away while he stammered to find an answer.
Summer. All he wanted was to forget all about it, to do what he’d been ordered and treat it as if it’d never happened. Instead, he was dredging it all up, writing down notes and putting together an outline. Since he had to write it up, he might as well make it as accurate as he could.
He wasn’t going to let Jennifer or anyone else consider him a slacker; he refused to give that impression. It drove him on, consequences be danged. Then again, what would everyone think of him afterward? Whatever, he wouldn’t be like Billy, come what may. So, he worked on his paper every evening, trying to capture the story just right. Each night when he was finished, he brushed his teeth, dressed in his pajamas, and crawled into bed. And then the summer returned in his nightmares: the horrible crash, Agent Roberts, the prison cell, the oppressive heat, and Agent Roberts’ parting words.
On Friday, Mrs. Bird had everyone draw a paper out of a coffee can. Each slip of paper had a number printed on it, numbers one through twenty-five. The numbers would determine the order in which each student would give their oral presentation. Brian drew number twenty-five, the last number. It made him feel even worse. If he had to do it, he wanted to get it over with. Instead, he’d have to sit and listen to the other kids talk about their fun and exciting summers. Certainly, they’d talk about vacations to Disneyland, cruises, fishing in the mountains, swimming in the ocean, big-league baseball games. The list running through his head was endless. They were all things he wished he could’ve done instead of . . . He shuddered.
During Friday’s math class, he didn’t follow what the teacher talked about and diagrammed on the whiteboard. Instead, he did his own math. He couldn’t imagine anyone’s presentation would be as long as his. Suppose the average was five minutes. Some were sure to go longer, but not all. That would give him until Wednesday at the earliest to make his presentation. If, against the odds he came up on Tuesday, he’d let Mrs. Bird see his paper and explain he would need more time to present. Seeing the paper should convince her he wasn’t just trying to put it off.
Four days, he had four days of freedom remaining. Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. When would Roberts show up to haul him away? Would he take him at school or wait and snatch him off the street? Maybe he’d take him at home. Wherever the agent chose, he had limited time. It was too bad he’d have to spend so much of it writing.
Brian spent the better part of Saturday working on the assignment. He fleshed out his story, adding every detail he could remember. Well, most. Some details were too personal to share. He reread and edited his paper until he was satisfied. With it as polished as he could get it, he walked around his house in a daze, noting all the things he was going to miss. It was nearly dark, but he went outside and wandered the neighborhood, feeling morose.
When he returned, his mom noticed how down he was. “Brian, why don’t you call your friends and set up something for tomorrow. I can take you to a movie, an arcade, out for pizza, whatever you choose,” she said.
Pizza, he thought, the last dinner for the condemned prisoner.
After talking to his friends, they decided on pizza, followed by a movie. Sam was included. He’d assimilated into the group as if he’d been with them for years. Brian pondered calling Jennifer and asking if she’d like to join them but didn’t. Although her presence would be exhilarating, it might also be embarrassing.
Brian was able to dismiss his troubles as the group hung out together. They ate their fill and clowned around until it was time for the movie. It was a good flick but was over all too soon. He was even more down-in-the-dumps as the credits scrolled up the screen. It was the last time he’d be able to hang out with the guys. At least he’d take good memories with him.
They exited the theater and Brian checked his phone. “Huh, I got a text from Mom. Something came up and she asked if we’d be fine for an hour or so,” he said.
“Sure, we can find something to do,” Tommy said eyeing the candy store.
“So, since we have time, how about I tell you all about my summer. It’ll be easier doing it without all the other kids around. Besides, it’ll all come out in a few days anyway.” And if Roberts was watching and listening, he’d get out of giving his presentation in class.
“Yeah, good idea,” his friends said in various forms.
“Okay, let’s find somewhere a little more private,” Brian said.
He led the way to the nearby park and sat on a bench. His friends gathered around and he studied the park searching for Agent Roberts. When he didn’t see the fed, he told his story.
When he was finished, Jackson said, “Wait a minute. How can you be gone that long and your ‘rents never noticed? I know your dad can be scattered sometimes, but a full month and a half?”
“I guess it was perfect, or rather, imperfect timing,” Brian said. “See, Dad finally got his trip to Antarctica two days before it happened. And Mom—”
“Whoa, back up the bus,” Sam said, “Antarctica?”
“Yeah” Mike interjected. “Brian’s dad is a scientist. If you go over to his house, that’s all he talks about, going to Antarctica and conducting some kind of research.”
“For real?” Sam asked. “That’s cool.”
“Actually cold, really cold,” Mike said with a grin. “So, he finally got to go, huh?”
“Yeah,” Brian said.
“But what about your mom? And Billy?” Tommy asked.
“Again, imperfect timing. The exact morning, Mom got a call. Grandma had a stroke so Mom needed to go to San Diego to get her set up in a new place with assistance and all that stuff. She wanted me to go too, but I told her how important it was that I stay. She checked in with Billy, he was in his cave, of course. He never even paused his Xbox game or took his headset off. ‘Oh yeah, I’ve got this Mom,’ he told her without even knowing what was going on.
“So, Mom said she’d just gone to the grocery store and we were all stocked up, including two cases of ramen noodles. She wrote down her debit card number in case we wanted to call out for pizza or Chinese or something. She said she’d call every day to check in and then she was off.”
“Okay, but what about Billy?” Jackson asked.
“The idiot thought I was with Mom,” Brian said.
“What? Are you sure he thought? I’m not sure your brother is capable of thinking,” Tommy said. “And I gotta tell you, if he told this story, I’d think it was from one of his games.”
“I hear ya,” Brian said. “So, it took a lot longer with Grandma than Mom thought it would. She decided she needed to totally move Grandma, including selling her house to afford the new place. She packed all the important stuff, got rid of tons of stuff, and put the house on the market. The way she described it, it was grueling and I felt bad I wasn’t there to help her. If I would’ve been, none of this would’ve ever happened. It just happened that I got home an hour before she did. I never talked to Billy, so he still thinks me and Mom were together.”
“Dude, your brother is such an idiot,” Tommy said.
“Well, you told her what happened, didn’t you?” Jackson asked.
“No, man, I was scared to. Roberts said he’d send me back if I told a soul,” Brian said.
“But you just told us,” Mike said.
“You needed to know,” Brian said. “You’re my friends.”
Sam shook his head and asked, “Does this kind of thing happen a lot around here? I mean, aren’t the casinos run by mobsters so people disappear all the time? Maybe my dad made a mistake moving us here.”
“Not at all,” Mike said. “That’s Vegas, not Reno.” He looked at Brian and said, “Man, that’s bad stuff. I’m glad you told us. Now if you disappear again, we can raise a stink about it.”
“Yeah,” the other friends agreed. “And I’ll tell your mom everything, too,” Tommy added.
“Thanks, guys. You’re good friends,” Brian said.
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Post by bretf on Nov 12, 2019 7:52:39 GMT -6
9idrr, thanks. And to answer your questions, yes, no, maybe so. Or something in between.
Tex, thanks. And you give me too much credit. I only know what Brian tells me and he's playing it pretty close for now.
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Post by texican on Nov 12, 2019 12:57:02 GMT -6
9idrr, thanks. And to answer your questions, yes, no, maybe so. Or something in between. Tex, thanks. And you give me too much credit. I only know what Brian tells me and he's playing it pretty close for now. bret, You do know that JD Black will losen up Brian or the brain if taken regularly.... Texican....
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Post by bretf on Nov 12, 2019 18:34:08 GMT -6
9idrr, thanks. And to answer your questions, yes, no, maybe so. Or something in between. Tex, thanks. And you give me too much credit. I only know what Brian tells me and he's playing it pretty close for now. bret, You do know that JD Black will losen up Brian or the brain if taken regularly.... Texican.... Good idea, but dang, I can't remember what he told me or comprehend what I wrote down. I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow. If a half jar of aspirins work, anyway.
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Post by texican on Nov 12, 2019 22:07:47 GMT -6
bret, You do know that JD Black will losen up Brian or the brain if taken regularly.... Texican.... Good idea, but dang, I can't remember what he told me or comprehend what I wrote down. I guess I'll have to try again tomorrow. If a half jar of aspirins work, anyway. bret, Our consummate writing raises its head again.... Brian told his friends, but it must have been in sign language for no details appeared in the chapter.... So at least another chapter before the secret is out or at least two or three days since it is Sunday - Brian time.... Thanks for the story.... Texican....
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Post by udwe on Nov 13, 2019 0:06:56 GMT -6
You're killing us! Still, great story!
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Post by bretf on Nov 14, 2019 7:52:55 GMT -6
Chapter 8
Monday morning rolled around too soon. Brian hadn’t slept well, expecting Agent Roberts to storm in at any moment and whisk him away. As he loitered around the house, he looked at the framed family photo on the end table. In the photo, all four of them, Dad, Mom Billy, and he were smiling, a happy time. Even Billy looked as if he was a decent kid. He slipped it from the frame and tucked it carefully into his notebook. Maybe Roberts would allow him to take it with him. If he was allowed to keep the photo and could get a pen, he might draw the missing devil’s horns on his brother.
The oral presentations were grueling to endure. As he’d expected, most of the kids had fun summers, unlike his. One had gone on a long hot-air-balloon ride in Colorado. Another had gone fishing in Alaska. The story gave Brian pause. Could I hitchhike to Alaska and live in the bush? Would Agent Roberts find me there?
One kid, an avid snowboarder Brian knew from grade school had gone to Valle Nevado in the Andes Mountains in Chile. He’d spent an entire week of summer snowboarding. Although, it wasn’t summer then in the southern hemisphere. Brian reconsidered the Alaska idea. Chile was even farther away and Agent Roberts would have no jurisdiction there. No, even if I could hitchhike there, they speak Spanish. I only know a few words. If I go anywhere, it better be Alaska.
Brian stopped his musings when Sam got up to give his presentation. He’d been so immersed in his problems the past week he hadn’t learned much about his new friend.
“My story starts when my dad went out of town for a few days,” Sam said. “When he got home, he and my mom had quiet talks and then they dropped a bombshell on me. They said he’d accepted a new job and we’d be moving to Reno, Nevada. Reno? I didn’t know anything about Reno. I’d be going to a new state, a new school, and wouldn’t know anyone there. I was scared but my parents said we had to go; it was important for our future. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t met Brian.”
Brian got a lump in his throat. Jackson, Mike, and Tommy had accepted Sam into their group. At least he’d still have them after Agent Roberts made his move.
“Anyway, we had to pack up our house to move. Mom said we couldn’t take everything with us so I’d have to get rid of a lot of my stuff. Do you have any idea how hard that is? We’d lived there my whole life and I had to give a lot of stuff away. I hadn’t used some of it in years but it was still hard to get rid of.
“We loaded up the U-Haul and drove and drove. I was wondering if we’d ever get here. But we did and everything was strange. A strange house, a strange neighborhood, and I’d be going to a strange school full of strangers. We got settled in just in time for school to start. And that is what I did over my summer.”
Sam turned in his paper and returned to his seat. Brian gave him a thumbs-up and smiled. At least Sam will have the guys. I’ll only have guards.
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Post by 9idrr on Nov 14, 2019 21:16:28 GMT -6
I'm startin' to get the feelin' that there's more to ol' Sammy that I first thought. I guess that's the sign of a good writer, huh Bret? You're doin' a great job on this one.
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Post by texican on Nov 14, 2019 22:07:35 GMT -6
bret, Thanks for the chapter.... Now it is Monday on Brian's time.... What does this mean for the revelation? Brian is becoming a nexus for his classmates and school.... Texican.... ps: Appears that my posts and thanks (thumbs up) as texican1 have been erased when Texican and Texican1 were combined....
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Post by supermag on Nov 15, 2019 7:36:26 GMT -6
I hope Sam's last name isn't Roberts
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Post by bretf on Nov 15, 2019 7:51:30 GMT -6
Chapter 9
Tuesday’s English class was more of the same; kids talking about things Brian wished he could have done. Well, not all of them. One had gone on a long-distance bicycle trip with his family, crossing several states. Although he liked to ride his bike around the neighborhood, he didn’t think he could go the thousand miles the kid claimed he did.
Even though Brian would have liked to do a lot of the things the other kids talked about, he wondered if they were all true. Everyone except him, well, and Sam, couldn’t have had a fantastic summer, could they?
One boy claimed to have canoed down the Carson River to the Carson Sinks with his dad. Then, they’d driven further across the state and canoed down the Humboldt River to the Sinks. One kid went to Crater Lake in Oregon.
As Jennifer gave her presentation, Brian mused. I didn’t know she’s a Girl Scout. Her summer camp sounds fun. I wonder how the summer camp I was supposed to go to was. I guess I’ll never know.
The twenty-fourth presentation was made and Mrs. Bird said, “Brian, you’re next. Can you do yours in the time remaining or will you need longer?” The clock showed five minutes before the bell.
“I’ll need more time.”
She scrutinized him then nodded. “Very well, then. Tomorrow we will wrap this assignment up and begin . . .”
Brian didn’t hear what they’d do next.
#
Brian didn’t sleep well for the third consecutive night. He tossed and turned as his mind refused to shut off. Tomorrow, Agent Roberts will haul me away for sure. I’ll never sleep here again. I wonder if Mom and Dad will be allowed to visit me.
His mom called him to get up but she needn’t have bothered. He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his clothing laid out. He rushed to the bathroom. All too often Billy got there first and did his best to use up the hot water. It was his turn for a cold shower. Brian smiled when he heard Billy banging on the locked door and his muffled threats. “Yell all you want. After today you won’t be able to touch me,” he said softly. At least one good thing might come out of his situation. He wouldn’t be Billy’s punching bag any longer.
When he went to the kitchen, his mom could tell something was bothering him. “You look down, Honey. What is it?” she asked.
“Oh, just an English assignment that’s due today,” he said.
“Is there anything I can do to help? Should I call your teacher?”
“No, you don’t need to call. I’ve got the assignment finished, I’m just not sure how it will go over,” Brian said.
“Maybe I could read through it and see if I think anything needs to be changed,” his mom said.
“Naw, it’s okay. But you can do one thing for me, Mom.”
“Sure, what is it, Honey?”
“Don’t let Billy sell any of my stuff.”
“Sell your stuff? What are you talking about, Brian?”
“Oh, nothing, I guess. He was yelling threats at me while I was in the shower. Maybe he’s over it already,” Brian said, not telling his true reason.
“So, are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” his mom asked.
“No, Mom, and thanks. I better be going, you know, the assignment,” Brian said. He hugged her, holding on for a long time. When he let go, his eyes were misty and he said, “Bye Mom. I love you.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.
He shot her a half-smile, slung his backpack over one shoulder, and left the house.
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Post by texican on Nov 15, 2019 13:20:12 GMT -6
Oh Bret at least one moar or is it several moar chapters before we find out Brian's secret or is it crimes? Keeping the Moar Hounds howling for moar.... The anticipation is growing and growing.... Texican....
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Post by 9idrr on Nov 15, 2019 21:25:26 GMT -6
Seems as thought havin' a brother like Billy is both a blessing and a curse? Wonder if my brothers felt that way about me.
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Post by bretf on Nov 16, 2019 14:47:02 GMT -6
Chapter 10
The static from the morning’s announcements had barely faded when Mrs. Bird stood. “Brian will now make his presentation, the final oral presentation on the summer’s activities. Brian?” she said and nodded to him.
Final presentation; you’ve sure got that right Mrs. Bird, he thought. Standing, he looked out the window expecting to see Agent Roberts. Not seeing him, he walked to the front of the class. Gazing across the room, he focused for a moment on Jennifer and then on Sam, imprinting their faces in his mind.
Brian cleared his throat and said, “What I Did Over the Summer, Subtitled, How I got sent to Cuba.”
A girl in the second row pulled out the phone she wasn’t supposed to use in class, tapping the screen rapidly. A boy in the back row held up a sheet of construction paper. Brian noticed he used the kid in front of him to shield it from Mrs. Bird’s view but he could see it clearly. Bold lettering across the top read “BS METER”. A half-circle was drawn below it, with numbers one to ten around the arc. A cut-out red arrow was pinned to pivot and point at the numbers. Brian’s title had already earned a ‘two’.
Brian smiled. He could see why the kid had made it, seeing as how he’d had doubts about some of the other presentations. For some reason, the meter was comical and he relaxed ever-so-slightly. He winked at the kid.
Brian smiled at her as well. Again, he got it. One girl had told of excitement and adventure when she’d gone to Rome over the summer. She did a good job of being non-specific and leading them on until she said it was the launch point for her kayaking trip down the Owyhee River. She’d shot them a broad smile and said, “Other than the river, there’s not much else in Rome . . . Oregon.”
Brian said, “Actually, it was none of them. It was the Republic of Cuba, the island nation south of Florida. More specifically, it was in a facility at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base known as Gitmo; the Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp.
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Post by texican on Nov 16, 2019 18:35:13 GMT -6
bret,
Gitmo for the summer....
Who else should be there....
Now another chapter or moar for the full story....
Thanks for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by bretf on Nov 17, 2019 6:02:41 GMT -6
Chapter 11
Brian started again. “What I Did Over the Summer, Subtitled, How I got sent to Cuba.”
“It all started at a Scout meeting not long after I’d crossed-over from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts. At my first meeting, all us new Scouts were introduced into the Troop and formed into our patrol. We got to choose the name for our patrol and I suggested ‘Titans’. I explained how it’s not all Clash of the Titans, the Greek gods, or the Tennessee Titans football team. A Titan is an extremely important person like Albert Einstein was a Titan of Science. We could be the Titans of Boy Scouts. The other Scouts agreed so that became our patrol name.
“A few meetings later, the Senior Patrol Leader, or SPL, announced the annual rocket launch. He said it would happen the next month so we needed to be ready. He explained all about it, where and when we would meet and everything. Launching rockets was always one of my favorite things to do in Cub Scouts, next to Pine-Wood Derby, so I was pretty excited. On our way home, Dad told me he’d buy me a bigger, nicer rocket than I usually got; he liked rocket launch day, too.
“The next day, Dad took me to the hobby store. We got a Madcow Rocketry 3" Aerobee 150A rocket. It was three inches in diameter and as tall as me. It said on the package it was for experienced rocketeers but Dad said we’d be all right. I also got Dad to buy me some paint for it while we were at the store. Since my patrol was the Titans, even though I’d said the name wasn’t based on the football team, I wanted to paint the rocket in the colors of the Tennessee Titans.
“I know most everyone around here are Forty-Niners fans, but I like the Titans because of Kaelin Burnett. He plays for the Titans now but he played in college here for the Wolfpack. He came to our school one day and gave a talk. He signed a football for me so I’ve always liked him for that. Anyway, we left the store with the huge rocket and paint. Maybe if I’d have only gotten the rocket and not the paint, or got the paint and a smaller rocket, it might not have happened.”
Brian had taken his water bottle to the front of the room with him. He paused and took a drink and looked around. A few kids were paying attention. Others were doodling. A couple had their contraband phones out and appeared to be playing games. He saw the BS meter had raised half a number. At least Sam and Jennifer were listening to him.
He wasn’t surprised everyone wasn’t paying attention. As the oral presentations had dragged on, fewer paid attention with each passing report. Shoot, he was guilty as well. He’d caught the gist of all the reports but hadn’t paid attention to many of the details of any except Sam’s and Jennifer’s. Maybe he could draw the others back in. He cleared his throat and started again.
“Red and blue paint. Who could have ever dreamt two primary colors on my rocket would cause the problems they did and get me thrown into the prison our government uses for terrorists?”
A few of the kids looked up from what they’d been doing. Brian inwardly smiled. Since he was openly defying Agent Roberts’ orders, the more who knew, the better.
“That night I planned how to paint the rocket. I’m not too good with curves like are on the Tennessee Titans logo but I can do straight lines so I decided on stripes. And those stripes got me into deep trouble. RED AND BLUE STRIPES!”
He paused for effect and saw more of the kids were paying attention. “The next day, I painted it, narrow blue stripes on each side of wider red stripes. Do you know that’s the pattern on the flag of a country our government considers an enemy?”
Brian scanned the classroom to see if anyone would acknowledge the question. Several, including Sam and Jennifer, were shaking their heads.
“Neither did I, but boy-howdy, I do now.”
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Post by texican on Nov 17, 2019 14:53:01 GMT -6
He paused for effect and saw more of the kids were paying attention. “The next day, I painted it, narrow blue stripes on each side of wider red stripes. Do you know that’s the pattern on the flag of a country our government considers an enemy?”
First mistake....
Launching the rocket will be the second mistake....
The rocket landing on a government facility will probably be the third mistake....
Things are looking up....
Thanks bret for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by bretf on Nov 18, 2019 6:09:25 GMT -6
Chapter 12
“The day of the launch came and I was excited but bummed at the same time. My dad would have to miss it. He’s a scientist and had finally got to go on a research trip to Antarctica. Then, that morning, my grandma had a stroke and my mom went to be with her. I was left home with my moron brother.” Brian missed Mrs. Bird’s slight smile at the reference to Billy. “I had to pack the rocket that was as tall as me to the park where we would be launching.
“I was tired when I got there but still happy. I couldn’t wait to see the rocket fly. I wish my dad would have been there. He would’ve loved to see the launch, and maybe, I don’t know, if he’d been there a lot of what happened might not have.”
Brian paused, missing his dad so much. If he’d only been there . . . But he wasn’, and it all happened. He took a deep breath and continued.
“Our Scout Master and both the Assistant Scout Masters weren’t there, either. Maybe if they were there . . . But just like Dad, they weren’t. And no matter how many times I think about it, how many times I wish Dad or the regular leaders were there, they weren’t. And I can’t change it with wishing.
Mrs. Bird asked, “Is there more or are you finished?”
“No, Ma’am, I have more, sorry. I just thought of something that I didn’t write down and I was wondering if I needed to ad-lib.” Brian tried to sound in control even though it felt like his guts were wrapped in knots. He pinched his eyes closed, opened them, and looked out the windows as he wiped them. Where are you Roberts? When are you going to arrest me and toss me in your dungeon? He looked away from the windows, glancing at Sam and then Jennifer. Clearing his throat, he started again.
“Our troop leaders were at a Scout Jamboree in West Virginia with some of the older Scouts. They got an old guy from here and a man from Pahrump, friends of the Scout Master to fill in. They’d both been or still were Scout Masters, I’m not sure which. The guy from Pahrump was going to spend the summer traveling around anyway so he stopped here to do his friend a favor.
“So, we set up the launch pads, did a brief opening ceremony, and then it was time to shoot off the rockets. Several guys went first with their regular small rockets and then it was my turn. I handed my phone to one of my patrol members and asked him to video the launch so I could send it to my dad. Then I carried my huge rocket up to the special platform. Other Scouts made comments how about how big it was and one asked how far it could fly. One kid said it looked like a missile the Air Force uses. I didn’t think much about the comment then but I sure did afterward.
“I set the rocket up, attached the wires and caressed it, proud of how good it looked. I couldn’t wait to see it fly. Then I stood back and the Scouts started the countdown. When they reached ‘zero’, I pressed the launch button. The engine ignited and the rocket shot off the pad.
“We watched it go, a lot of the guys saying ‘ooh’ and ‘wow’ and stuff like that. Then the fill in Scout Master, Mr. Wilson, the guy from Pahrump said, ‘Oh _ _ _ _’.
“I can’t tell you what he said because I’m not supposed to use profanity. But the word he used definitely wasn’t Scout appropriate. I looked where he was looking and, sorry, but in my mind, I said the very same thing. A helicopter was coming towards the park and it looked like it was headed right where my rocket was.”
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Post by bretf on Nov 18, 2019 6:12:17 GMT -6
Author’s note:
A few years ago, my son’s Boy Scout troop was in a sports field launching rockets. A few were much bigger than we’d been around in Cub Scouts, though nowhere near as large as the one chosen for the story. Several had been sent up and the boys were running across the field to retrieve them. I looked up in the sky and saw a Life Flight helicopter coming our way. It wasn’t on a direct trajectory towards our location but still passed over the far end of the fields. I made a comment to our Scout Master at the time, who happened to be in the US Marshals service.
The boys continued to launch and the gears were turning in my head. Boy Scouts, rockets, helicopter, federal agent. Not to imply our Scout Master is anything like Agent Roberts, of course.
By the time the event finished, I had several idea threads going. At home, I wrote down the basics, then added more to it over the next couple of days. (Since then, I keep a pad in my Scout pants in case inspiration hits me.) At the time, Chad Smoke was also telling me his story so I wasn’t able to pursue this one. Chad spoke louder than Brian. Besides, I’d been posting the Ashen Horse and figured the moar-hounds would get antsy if I let it go too long between posts.
So this story sat on hold until such a time as I had to get away from Chad and his trials for a while. This story is substantially shorter than Chad’s and doesn’t deal with any end-of-civilization events, but I hope you enjoy it.
Bret
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Post by texican on Nov 18, 2019 14:59:26 GMT -6
“I can’t tell you what he said because I’m not supposed to use profanity. But the word he used definitely wasn’t Scout appropriate. I looked where he was looking and, sorry, but in my mind, I said the very same thing. A helicopter was coming towards the park and it looked like it was headed right where my rocket was.” Bret, Brian's rocket takes out a helicopter or is it a near miss? Thanks for the chapter.... Texican....
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Post by bretf on Nov 18, 2019 20:07:14 GMT -6
Chapter 13
Brian paused again and closed his eyes. It didn’t help. His eyelids were twin projector screens and he saw all the horrific events unfolding as had happened too many times before. When he opened them, he took a drink and looked sightlessly across the classroom. He failed to notice the BS meter was at the five. When he started talking again, it was in a soft voice.
“What happened next was horrible and it’s very hard to describe. But I’ll try my best.
“My rocket was streaking into the sky and the helicopter was getting closer. It was obvious if something didn’t happen immediately, they were going to collide. I think the pilot saw the rocket at the last moment but by then it was too late. The chopper banked into a turn just as the rocket slammed into it.
Brian closed his eyes again. When he opened them they were misty.
“The helicopter tilted to one side and thick white-blue-gray smoke erupted out of it. It lost elevation fast and the smoke got thicker the whole time. Near the ground, the whole helicopter started spinning just like the rotors. It tilted even more and then slammed into the grass.”
Brian bent his head back and stared at the ceiling as he gulped for breath. When he spoke again, it was in broken sentences.
“The sound was horrible . . . Smashing metal and I don’t know . . . plastic and fiberglass . . . or whatever they make helicopters from. Flames . . . appeared where moments before it was smoke . . . A man wearing a helmet and green overalls . . . tumbled out of the smashed door . . . A rank smoke smell drifted our way.
“Mr. Wilson ran for his truck. ‘I have a fire extinguisher,’ he yelled. ‘Boys, stay back.’
“He didn’t need to tell us that. At that moment, we were petrified, just like a fossil. Another person showed up from the other side of the helicopter. One of his arms kind of flopped at his side like a Cowboy Woody doll. His face was covered with blood. He was pulling a stretcher with his good arm.”
Brian stopped talking. He faced the windows, no longer looking for Agent Roberts. He was trying to rid the image from his mind. But no matter which direction he looked, all he saw was his rocket colliding with the chopper, the crashed helicopter, and the injured men. He turned to the back of the room and wiped he eyes. Why didn’t I listen to Agent Roberts? Why couldn’t I have just forgotten this and let Mrs. Bird think whatever she wanted?
He turned back and in a steadier voice, though still soft, said, “The senior patrol leader yelled, ‘We’ve gotta help.’ The older boys ignored Mr. Wilson and ran for the crash.
“I really don’t know how long it was when we heard sirens. It might’ve been hours minutes, or seconds. I just don’t know. Anyway, cop cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance all showed up. The cops got all the Scouts away and the paramedics took care of the people from the helicopter while the firemen pulled their hoses and put out the fire. Guys in suits and dark sunglasses showed up in a big black SUV and took control. I don’t know what happened to all the other Scouts, I was in one of those mental hazes, you know, but after a while only Mr. Wilson and I were left from the troop. I guess the old guy and the kids’ parents got them away.
“One of those suit and sunglasses guys stood back and watched as a cop asked us what we could tell him. He seemed nice, the cop, I mean, and knew it was all an accident. Still, he asked us to come to the station to write our statements. We needed to do it while everything was fresh in our minds. It was fine with me; I wanted out of there. We rode in the police car, but not like we were prisoners or anything. At the police station, we were put in a room with a table and given papers and pens and told to write down all we could remember about the incident.
“We finished but no one came to take our papers. Mr. Wilson said, ‘This is taking too long. Something smells wrong,’ and he did a lot of grumbling.
“When the door opened, the man who entered wasn’t in a policeman’s uniform. He was dressed in a suit. It was the same guy who’d watched while the cop talked to us. But he didn’t have his dark sunglasses on. Mr. Wilson studied the man and his face got a relieved look. He said, ‘Neal Roberts, boy, am I glad to see you.’
“The guy in the suit, this Neal Roberts guy didn’t look glad. If anything, he looked mad. Then his face changed to happy, a mean-happy. He said, ‘Well, well, Thad Wilson. What, you don’t want to call me the nickname you always used in school, complete with the obscene gestures? What are you, scared to now that I have a badge and a gun?’
“I didn’t know what he was talking about but Mr. Wilson sure did. ‘No, Neal, geez. That’s all in the past. You know, dumb kid stuff. So, are you going to get us out of here?’ he asked.
“The guy in the suit gave Mr. Wilson a mean smile and said, ‘Get you out of here? Of course not. And call me Agent Roberts now. I’m the Federal Bureau of Investigation agent in charge of this incident. You and your cell member are under arrest for the act of domestic terrorism against the United States’.”
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Post by 9idrr on Nov 18, 2019 21:30:08 GMT -6
This gets interestinger and interestinger.
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Post by sniper69 on Nov 19, 2019 5:34:54 GMT -6
As Alice would say curiouser and curiouser......
I wonder who the patient on the stretcher was.
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Post by bretf on Nov 19, 2019 8:02:23 GMT -6
Chapter 14
“Mr. Wilson looked shocked. I sure was. ‘Domestic terrorism?’ he asked.
“Agent Roberts still had his mean smile. He was kind of like a dog with his teeth showing and his lips curled back. I didn’t want him to snap at me and was glad he was focused on Mr. Wilson. I shouldn’t have been but I was. He said, ‘I always knew you’d turn out bad but I had no idea it would be this bad. Now I need to make certain this is contained, review the key evidence, and make arrangements for your transfer.’ He smiled, a big happy smile at Mr. Wilson and left the room.
“Mr. Wilson sighed and shook his head. ‘This isn’t good, kid,’ he said. ‘Neal and I go way back, and, well, we’ve never gotten along. He was one of those butthe, er, guys I mean who ran and tattled for anything and everything. He got me in trouble more times than I can count. Granted, there were times I deserved it, but usually it was total crap. My friends and I got tired of it and started making fun of him. It looks like it backfired.’
“The only thing I could think about was my brother, Billy, and three eight graders I had a run-in with the first day of school. ‘So, you were a bully?’ I asked him.
“Mr. Wilson stared at the one-way window behind me and said, ‘I suppose I could’ve been considered one. But like I told Neal, Agent Roberts, it’s all in the past. I’ve grown up and changed. I’d never consider acting like that now.’ I wanted to believe him.
“I don’t know how long we sat there before Agent Roberts came back but it felt like an eternity. It was probably only a couple of hours. If I wasn’t so scared, I might’ve fallen asleep. He looked like something really good had happened. He said, ‘This is great. It has everything I need to hang you, Wilson, or at least lock you and your co-conspirator up for the rest of your miserable lives.’ He held up my phone, the one I’d given to one of my patrol members. I’d forgotten all about it after the launch. Man, would my parents be mad if they thought I lost it. You know how it is talking them into getting you a phone when you’re our age.
“Agent Roberts said, ‘I have video evidence right here of you two shooting that helicopter down. What were you planning to do, posting it to Al Jazeera or just sending it to your pals in North Korea?’
“I didn’t know what he was talking about and that time I don’t think Mr. Wilson did either. It didn’t stop him from asking some kind-of rude questions. ‘Neal, are you drunk, stoned, or did something fall on your head? I always knew you guys confiscate the best drugs for personal use, but seriously? It was a BOY SCOUT ROCKET LAUNCH. IT WAS TOTALLY AN ACCIDENT. A MISTAKE. What the hell are you talking about? Al Jazeera? North Korea? Did what little mind you had get assimilated by aliens?’
“I was kinda numb then, but later, his comments made me wonder how much he’d changed. I didn’t think he was very nice to Agent Roberts still. However, Agent Roberts said we were terrorists so I get it. Also, when I got my phone back a long time later, the video was gone.
“Agent Roberts glared at Mr. Wilson and said, ‘Terrorism is certainly a mistake but locking you up isn’t.’
“Mr. Wilson was on his feet and stalked towards Agent Roberts. He said, ‘Let me call my lawyer. I know my rights.’
“Agent Roberts smiled again. He sort of hissed and spat the words out. ‘You don’t get it, do you, Wilson. You have no rights. Terrorists, foreign or domestic, don’t have rights like American citizens. And I swear to almighty God that if you take one more step towards me, I’m going to give you a forty caliber third eye socket.’ He gripped his pistol and pulled it out, aiming it right at Mr. Wilson’s face. I really thought he was going to shoot Mr. Wilson right there. Thank goodness the door burst open and two cops ran in. They grabbed Mr. Wilson and dragged him back to his chair. He fought to get away, trying to get to Agent Roberts.
“When he couldn’t get free, the cops had hand-cuffed him to his chair, Mr. Wilson started saying things and cussing at the cops and Agent Roberts. What he said definitely wasn’t Scout appropriate. It was odd, seeing him in his Scout uniform and hearing him talk like that. Maybe Scout appropriate language is different in Southern Nevada than it is here. But then again, Agent Roberts said he was going to shoot him, although he used different words, so I get it. While Mr. Wilson was cussing at him, Agent Roberts just smiled. I think he was enjoying it all.
“Mr. Wilson glared at Agent Roberts and said, ‘This is a farce and you’re a fool. We have rights. You can’t just make this crap up because you’re still mad about something that happened fifteen years ago.’
“Agent Roberts got that mean smile again and said, ‘Under provisions of the United States Patriot Act, you have no rights. All rights are suspended for individuals who are involved in terrorism. You shot down an air ambulance, an ambulance for God’s sake, using a North Korean surface to air missile. Our forensics team found North Korean markings on the remnants they were able to recover. And I suppose you’ll also claim you didn’t know Congressman Baxter was on that chopper; the leading hawk in Congress concerning North Korean policy. So your friends and handlers decided he needed to be eliminated. You nearly succeeded but you’ll be disappointed to know the Congressman is fine. You will be transferred to the Guantanamo Bay Detention Camp where we house terrorists. You will stay there until your execution.’
“‘Wait,’ I said. ‘Missile? Congressman? North Korea? My dad bought the rocket and paint at the hobby store. You can check his debit card records. I painted that rocket with stripes in the Tennessee Titans colors. And I never even saw Mr. Wilson before tonight.’
“I might as well have been talking to the wall for all the good it did. Agent Roberts totally ignored me. It was easy to see we were in deep trouble. Mr. Wilson may have made it even worse – if possible. He glared at Agent Roberts and asked, ‘So, Neal and Bob, what were you, twelve, thirteen, when you quit wetting the bed?’
“You know the term ‘if looks could kill’? That’s the look Agent Roberts gave Mister Wilson then. It was even more intense than when he had his pistol pointed at Mr. Wilson’s head. It's a good thing the cops were still in the room. Mister Wilson told me later he knew we were already up s-creek, so he might as well get a poke in at good ole Neal. Again, I can’t quote Mr. Wilson but he added, ‘He always was a self-important _ _ _.’
“I couldn’t have said a word then. I was stunned and terrified. I was being sent to prison in Cuba for launching a rocket at a Boy Scout meeting.”
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Post by papaof2 on Nov 19, 2019 11:21:06 GMT -6
Unfortunately, there are at least a few truly stupid, running on testosterone, "I've got a badge and can do what I want" 'Agent Roberts' types in many areas of law enforcement. Most of them probably deserve prison but it seems that few ever wind up inside a cell - or perhaps in front of a firing squad.
It only takes one of those to give a bad name to an entire organization.
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