Sewer Rats (4 page)

Were the aliens trying to lure Zantor into the open?

“Please...please...”

If they were acting, this person was doing a great job.

What would Zantor do?

I decided to take a risk. If it was a trick, the Medford warriors wouldn't find me just from my voice. I was too well hidden beneath the pipes. The tricky echoes would also fool them.

“Carter?” I called out. “Is that you?”

“Hurry man! It hurts!”

“What's the password?” I said, raising my voice.

“Stink...pot...”

This was no trick!

I rolled out from under the pipe. I got to my feet and snapped on the flashlight as I began to run to Carter's hiding spot.

Within seconds, I reached him. He had fallen beside the breaker box. Clumps of dirt were on the ground beside him. There was dirt on his shoulders. But it wasn't the dirt that got my attention.

My flashlight beam showed fresh red paint splattered all over the wall behind him.

I lowered the light to his face. And saw exactly why he was in so much pain.

He'd taken the paintball bullets in the head. It shouldn't have hurt him, but the visor of his helmet had been open.

Red paint covered his face like blood. I was worried some of it might not be paint.

“Hang in there,” I told him. “We'll get you out right away.”

He nodded and gulped. Then his eyes closed.

“Micky, Micky!” I shouted down the tunnels. “Micky!”

I hate hospitals. I think it's from when my Dad died. I can't remember much because I was only four. But I remember the smells and the big hallways and people in white walking in all directions and ignoring me. Most of all, I remember how afraid I was because everyone around me seemed so afraid.

That Sunday afternoon it all came back to me as Micky and I looked for Carter's
room in the hospital. I was already nervous because of what happened to Carter. I wanted to throw up.

Micky must have been nervous too. He didn't say much. Not until we got to room 1875.

“We should have brought him comic books or something,” Micky said.

“Except what if he can't read?” I asked. That was my big fear. That Carter was blind. He'd taken paintball bullets in the face. Not good.

The day before, while the Cooper twins and Micky helped Carter out of the tunnel, I had run ahead to call an ambulance. Then I had called his folks, who went straight to the hospital to meet him. Our last view of Carter had been of the medics loading him into the ambulance. This morning we had no idea what to expect.

Micky knocked on the door.

“Come in,” a man's voice said.

We pushed through the door.

Carter was in bed, wearing green hospital pajamas. He had a white eye patch taped
over his left eye. His face was the color of chopped meat.

I gulped.

A man stood up beside Carter's bed. He was big, with dark hair, a wide face and a thick mustache. There was a mole on his left cheek. He wore blue jeans and a sweatshirt.

“I'm Carter's father,” he said. “John Saylor.”

For some reason, I felt like I had seen him before.

“Micky,” Micky said to him. Micky didn't go over and shake the man's hand. Micky doesn't like anyone who has any authority. This includes all adults.

“Jim,” I said, standing a little ways behind Micky. The man didn't seem to recognize me, so I decided I was wrong about seeing him before.

“Hey, guys,” Carter said. His voice sounded much better. “Dad, these two helped me get out of the tunnel.”

I winced. We had enough trouble coming down on us from all the adults in our lives.
It looked like we'd never have another paintball fight again. Now I figured Carter's father would want to tell us how stupid we were.

Instead of frowning and ripping into us, Carter's father smiled.

“I want to thank you guys for your quick thinking in there. You made all the right moves.”

Micky found his voice. “You're not mad at us?”

“At first I was,” Mr. Saylor said. “I've heard some of the sewer tunnels are old enough to collapse, and I didn't like knowing that you guys were in there.”

“That will change,” Micky said. “Everybody has made us promise not to go in there again. And we'll stick to our promise.”

“Good,” Mr. Saylor said. “And from what Carter explained, you guys made sure everyone in these paintball wars followed safety rules. It was just a bad break that he hadn't closed his visor.”

“A real bad break,” Carter said. “I think my watch was a little slow. I didn't think it
was going to get started for a few minutes. I had my visor half open so I could breathe better. I was sitting against the wall, and boom, out of nowhere two guys appear and start firing. It was like they knew exactly where I was.”

He touched his face. “Good thing the bullets caught the edge of my visor and slowed some of the impact. Otherwise I might have lost an eye.”

I pointed at his eye patch. “You can see?”

“Doctors say everything will be fine in a few days,” Carter told me.

“Again, thanks to you guys getting him out so fast,” Mr Saylor. He smiled at Micky. “Of course, that shouldn't be a surprise. I know your father was hero.”

An angry look crossed Micky's face. He opened his mouth to say something. Then he changed his mind and closed it. He turned around and left the room without saying a word.

“Did I say something wrong?” Mr. Saylor asked.

“Yeah, but it's not your fault,” I said.

Once, and only once, Mick y had spoken to me about his Dad: a cop at a car accident. He went into a burning car to rescue a woman. The car had exploded. Micky thought heroes were useless. He'd rather have a father than someone everyone called a hero. Micky got mad at anyone who told him he should be proud that his father had given up his life trying to help someone.

“What is it?” Carter's dad asked me. “What made him mad?”

“Not a big deal,” I said.

It was, of course. But it was Micky's business, not mine.

“Well,” I said. “Got to go. Get better, Carter.”

That was the end of the hospital visit.

I found Micky in the hallway. He was pacing back and forth.

I didn't say anything. Micky burns slow. I didn't figure talking would do any good.

“I've been thinking,” Micky said when he looked up at me. “We got to go.”

“Sure,” I said. If he wanted to pretend nothing had happened, that was fine. “Where?”

“Let me ask you something. Did you hear what Carter told us? About when he got hit?”

“I was right there with you,” I said. “I'm small, but I'm not deaf.”

“Well?” Micky asked.

“Well what?” I asked back.

“Carter said it was like they knew exactly where he was.”

“And?” I said.

“If Carter's watch was slow, they probably fired as soon as they knew it was time to start the paintball war. You know, right on the hour. Like they did know exactly where he was. Like they were waiting to gun him down as soon as they could.”

It hit me. If that was true, there was only one way they could have known.

“You don't think...”

“Yes, I do.” He smiled grimly. “Which is why we are leaving this hospital right now.”

Yesterday's wind had become colder. Low dark clouds hung heavy. There was nothing to enjoy about our bike ride to Lisa's house. Not the weather. Not what Micky and I knew we had to ask her.

Lisa's mother answered the door of their small house.

“Good afternoon,” she said. Mrs. Chambers pushed some hair from her face. She was blond like Lisa, but her face was
tired. “You two aren't here for paintball or anything, are you?”

“No, ma'am,” Micky said.

“Good,” Mrs. Chambers said. “I have a hard time keeping her out of trouble.”

“Is Lisa home?” Micky asked. “We just want to talk to her.”

“In her bedroom, I think,” Mrs. Chambers said. “I'll go get her. Meet me in the kitchen. I'll see if I can find you something to eat.”

She gave us a smile, a tired one, but still a smile. “Don't think I'm upset with you about yesterday. You two are good guys. And I understand kids trying to have fun. I'm just glad you promised not to go into the sewer tunnels from now on.”

We nodded as we stepped past her into the house.

“How's that boy who was hurt?” she asked.

“He's all right,” Micky said. “He's got an eye patch, but the doctors say it will be off soon.”

She smiled a grown-up smile. “That's good. I'll get Lisa.”

Micky and I waited in the kitchen as Mrs. Chambers went to get Lisa. We sat at the table. Lisa got there a few seconds later, with Mrs. Chambers behind her.

“What,” Lisa said.

Not hello or how are you. But that was Lisa.

“We need to talk,” Micky said.

“No, we don't,” Lisa said.

“Yes, we do,” Micky said.

Mrs. Chambers coughed.

“Mom,” Lisa said, “it's okay. People don't have to talk nice to each other all the time. That's pretending. You know I don't like pretending.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Mrs. Chambers asked her.

“It's fine with me,” Lisa said. “I have nothing to hide.”

“What about the way that you set Carter up to get blasted in the tunnel?” Micky said. “Think we wouldn't figure it out?”

“Go away,” she told us.

I had hoped Lisa would frown the way she frowned in class when she couldn't figure out
an answer. I had hoped she wouldn't know what Micky was talking about.

But this sounded like she knew exactly what Micky meant.

“Why do you hate him so much?” Micky asked. “He's a good guy.”

“Go away,” Lisa said.

“No,” Micky said, “not until I have an answer.”

“How's this?” Lisa pushed Micky in the chest.

Then she turned and ran out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, we heard the front door slam.

“Lisa!” Mrs. Chambers said. “Lisa!”

She ran after her daughter.

“Wow,” I said, “that wasn't exactly what I expected.”

“No,” Micky said, “but I'd say it proves she set up Carter, doesn't it?”

“But why?” I asked. “He just moved to town. Why would she hate him so much?”

A half-second later I stood up. I pointed at the fridge behind Micky's shoulder.

“I think,” I said, “I may have the answer.”

“What?” Micky said. “Food?”

“Not in the fridge. On top.” There was a framed photo that had caught my eye. “The photo. Look.”

Micky stood and moved closer. He whistled. “I don't get it. That's Carter's dad.”

Micky and I had been in this kitchen more than a couple of times before.

Now I understood why I knew I'd seen Mr. Saylor before. It was this photo. He was
standing on a dock at a lake, holding a big fish in one hand and a fishing rod in the other. He had the same mustache and mole on his cheek. Beside him, Mrs. Chambers and Lisa both squinted into the sun. It was an old photo. Lisa was much smaller.

“Carter's dad,” Micky repeated. “I don't get it.”

Before I could say anything, Mrs. Chambers returned to the kitchen.

“Lisa's gone,” Mrs. Chambers said. “She yelled that she was going to Bell Park and that she wanted to be left alone. She's been in a bad mood for a while.”

“We understand,” Micky said. Micky paused. He pointed at the fridge. “By the way, who is the man in that photo?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Chambers said. “That's Lisa's father.”

She stopped for a second. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet. “We haven't been married for some time. He left town years ago and just moved back.”

“Lisa's father,” Micky said. “But the kid in the—”

It was my turn to elbow Micky.

“Let's go before it rains,” I said to Micky.

“Sure, but—”

I grabbed his arm and pulled him away before he could tell Mrs. Chambers anything about Carter and the man in the hospital.

This was something Lisa should explain. But if my guess was right, there wasn't much left to explain.

We didn't find Lisa in Bell Park. Instead, we found her bicycle. At the edge of the drainage ditch at the far end of the park— near the sewer tunnel entrance.

“Is she inside?” I asked.

Micky looked at the dark sky. He held his hand out, feeling for drops of rain.

“I hope not,” Micky said. “It's going to rain any second. And rain hard. You know what that means.”

I nodded. It meant a lot of water. The drainage ditch was empty now, but during a hard rainstorm, it would fill with fast,
muddy water higher than my waist—like a flash flood.

I moved to the iron bars at the front of the tunnel and looked inside. It was just a black hole—a huge black hole. If she had decided to hide in the sewer tunnels, it could be years before we found her. And that was only if she didn't hide.

I thought about the rain. If she was in there, Micky and I needed to warn her.

But if she wasn't in the tunnels, we would be putting ourselves in danger for nothing.

“Lisa?” I yelled. “Lisa?”

“Don't yell,” she said in a grumpy voice. “It hurts my ears.”

I nearly had a heart attack. I never expected her to be so close. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw her outline. She was sitting inside the tunnel, about twenty steps away.

“Come on out,” Micky said, moving beside me. “We want to talk.”

“No,” she said.

“What do you mean
no
?” Micky asked.

“It's a two-letter word for buzz off.”

From where Lisa sat, Micky and I would be two dark figures against the light of the sky.