The Navigators (12 page)

Chapter Fifteen

T
he apartment door flew open with a loud bang. I jumped off the couch to see Barry barging in, a complete mess from head to foot. Dried blood covered his shirt and neck.

“Peeky. Good, you’re here. Call Melissa and tell her to come over right away.”

Melissa’s head popped up from the couch as she pushed the blanket to the floor.

“Oh.” Barry hesitated for a moment. Melissa’s wrinkled clothes and disheveled hair obviously indicated we’d spent the night together. “Um, okay,” He mumbled. Glancing down, Barry fumbled with a sports gear bag.

“Barry—” Melissa sat up. “This isn’t… I mean, we—Peeky and I, we didn’t. Nothing…”

I shifted on my feet. He couldn’t think anything happened. Could he?

“Never mind.” He waved a hand. “We have a problem.”

She blinked. “What kind of problem?”

“Who is ‘we’?” I asked.

“All of us. And it’s a
big
problem.” Barry set the bag on the table. “Findlay went crazy and told everybody about the time machine.”

“When you say everybody…”

“I mean
everybody
, Missy. The local news, the college brass, everybody. The whole campus is buzzing about it.” He came over and grabbed the remote off the coffee table, turning on the TV. “New trucks have been rolling in all morning. They’re everywhere. Findlay’s getting ready to hold a freaking press conference right in the middle of the campus commons in about fifteen minutes.”

Melissa watched the live feed on TV. “Holy shit.”

“What do we do?” I asked.

Barry ran his hand through his hair. “We don’t have a lot of time. Maybe you guys can go stall them. Cause a ruckus, some sort of distraction. I can’t go like this, all covered in blood and crap. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Go stall Findlay, cause a ruckus, keep it from happening. Got it.”

Melissa held her hands out from her sides. “What’s that going to accomplish?”

“I think it’s me he wants to confront,” Barry said, “so he can take our discovery away from us in front of everyone. So I’ll confront him.”

“How are we going to stop him?”

“Just buy me some time. Cause a distraction.” Barry motioned to the hall closet. “Hell, Missy, grab a pair of sunglasses and one of my hats if you want. The crazier, the better. Throw water balloons, whatever you can think of, just don’t let that thing happen until I get there!”

“Okay, Barry. We’re on it.” Melissa jumped up and grabbed her car keys. “Come with me, Peeky. I have an idea.”

Everybody knew what to do but me.

As we headed out the door, she shouted, “Barry! Don’t take too long!”

The commons was nearly full when we drove up. The normally half-empty summer session parking lots were jammed. Barry was right. All the local news crews were here, and with one glimpse of that machine from the locals, national news networks would start covering the story—and all hell would break loose.

Melissa wheeled through the parking lot. “There are no spots. Do you see any?”

“No.”

“Screw it. This will have to do.” She drove the car over the curb and into the grass by the dumpster.

“Can you do that?” I asked, getting out.

“Looks like I just did.” Melissa jumped out and ran toward the gathering crowd. “We’ll be out of here before they have a chance to tow it!”

In the middle of the open grass of the commons, Findlay sat perched upon a stage that had been erected for an upcoming concert. Chairs had been arranged for the audience, and some of the deans of the college were gathering on stage. University workers rushed out a huge projection TV screen along with some stage lights. Findlay plucked at the ridiculous pompadour on his over-moussed head, makeup powder covering his pasty white face.

Melissa stopped and observed the scene from a distance.

“What should we do?” I asked. “Go tackle him?”

“Wait here.” Melissa sprinted toward the campus bookstore. “If Findlay starts to talk before I get back,
then
go tackle him.”

“What! I never played American football! I don’t know how to tackle!”

“Keep your eyes open!” She yelled over her shoulder. “This will only take a minute!”

“Don’t be long! The extent of my extracurricular activities was chess club!”

“Then crown his ass.” She flung open the bookstore doors.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means!”

I faced the gathering crowd. Holding my breath and kneading my hands, I crept closer to the stage and pulled Barry’s baseball cap down over my face. I slinked up behind a fat guy buying cheese Danishes from one of the commons’ vendor carts.

More students collected in front of the chairs. Then, Findlay appeared. He strutted to a table microphone behind a small sign with his name on it, and sat down.

“Testing, one two three,” the idiot Findlay said with a grin, enjoying his voice over the loudspeakers. He put a hand over the mic so it wouldn’t pick up his voice. I could just overhear him tell somebody in the crowd that they would begin in just a few minutes. “We are waiting for Jonas Brown,” Findlay said with a smile. Brown was a popular local news anchorman.

I spun around, taking it all in. There were satellite news vans everywhere. Chanel 8 was probably going to beam their egomaniacal morning news anchor, Jonas Brown—Tampa’s self-appointed Most Trusted Name In News—in on a live feed from downtown. I glanced back at Findlay. He grinned from ear to ear, bouncing his legs like pogo sticks.

“Test, one, two. Test.”

I glanced back at the bookstore. Still no sign of Melissa.

Moving closer to the stage, I kept my head pointed down, using the ball cap to hide my face. The asshole Findlay would spot me if I got too close. Several campus security guards stood nearby. Maybe he expected a confrontation.

Clearing his throat, Findlay adjusted his mic a second and third time. Any minute now, this event would start.
Where is Melissa? What am I supposed to do if she doesn’t get back in time?

The TV feed came on. Jonas Brown appeared on the giant screen, talking about a local housing project, and hinting at a special report live from the USF campus moments away. Then they went to a commercial.

What to do?

Tackle… tackle. Jump up on stage and grab Findlay? I twisted my fingers together. He was a little shorter than me, but he might be wiry. And what if some of the other people on stage joined in to help him? Things could get embarrassing quickly.

But, it
would
be a distraction…

I moved closer, still hiding behind the fat guy. He wanted a good spot for the show.

The commercial ended. Jonas Brown was back on TV. I could feel my heart in my throat, making me want to vomit.

The lights got suddenly brighter up on the stage. Findlay beamed from ear to ear.

The USF logo came up behind Jonas Brown. The caption said “Major scientific Breakthrough at USF?” Good grief, what did Findlay tell these people?

As I watched him, his eyes met mine. Findlay bolted out of his chair and pointed right at me. “There’s one of them! That’s one of the thieves!”

My heart stopped. Thief? Me?

The security guards scowled, moving toward me. I clutched my stomach and glanced around. Should I run onto the stage? Or just run away?

And where is Melissa?

I glimpsed the platform holding Findlay and the others. It stood almost five feet high. There was no way I’d be able to jump up there. Shit. Should I run away?

The guards pushed through the crowd toward me. I turned to run and smashed right into the fat guy with the cheese Danishes, losing my balance and falling backwards. Before I could even hit the ground, something grabbed me under the arms.

More campus security—coming from the other direction. I never even saw them.

They yanked me up, lifting me off the ground.

On the projection TV, Jonas Brown said, “Hello.” Findlay jumped up and down like a monkey, seeing me being apprehended.

He quickly regained his composure and addressed Jonas Brown. Narrowing his eyes, Findlay opened his mouth to reply.

Whack!

Findlay’s head rocked as something splattered against the side of his face. With one eye shut and one big pasty mouth hanging open, he put a hand to his cheek. The offending object was a clear liquid, delivered in . . . a water balloon? The gathered crowd “Ooh”ed in disbelief.

Splat! A water balloon hit Dean Anderson.

“Findlay!” Someone yelled from the crowd. “You dick!”

Wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and a huge green USF baseball jersey, Melissa pulled a water-filled condom from a plastic shopping bag and threw it.

“Findlay!” She called again, preparing to lob another bomb. He squinted into the crowd.

Then, from the mob of students, came: “Suck it, you asshole!”

Another missile sailed.

Findlay took another direct hit.

The TV cameramen zoomed in on Melissa. When they did, she spun around and dropped her pants.

“Kiss my ass, Findlay!” she yelled, slapping her bare butt for the cameras.

That, the cameramen didn’t want to miss. But the offstage director shouted that it couldn’t go on the air, and he dumped out of the live feed. The big screen went blank.

Mission accomplished.

The campus cops dropped me to go get Melissa, who was obviously the bigger threat. She moved into the crowd, stripping off the glasses and hat. She undid her pony tail and shook out her long brown hair, then peeled off the jersey and dropped it to the ground.

Then, she calmly—but quickly—mingled into the chaotic crowd and disappeared.

Which was my cue to disappear, too.

In the distance, the beep-beep-beep of a backing truck was barely audible as a tow truck locked on to Melissa’s car.

While Findlay wiped the water off his over-moussed head, I slipped away with a group of cheerleaders who had been assembled for the live shot. After the commotion started, they bailed, and I bailed with them.

Halfway across the commons, and far enough from Findlay to avoid scrutiny, I made a break for the bookstore. From there, I could sneak through the parking lots and work my way back to my dorm room.

When I was almost there, my cell phone rang.
Melissa.

I didn’t know if I should answer it. What if she has been caught and they were now tracking us all down?

I swallowed hard and pushed the green button.

“Peeky! It’s me!” Melissa was out of breath.

I walked along the sidewalk as fast as I could without drawing attention. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I got away. But don’t go back to your room. There was a ton of security at the commons. Findlay was expecting us. They probably have somebody waiting at my apartment and at your dorm room, too.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Oh, shit! What am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t go to your dorm. Don’t go anywhere you’d normally go.”

“Should I stay off the phone?” Her answers were scaring me a little.

She chuckled. “Peeky, don’t be a schmuck. They’re campus cops, not the FBI. Get to a safe place like a bar, or someplace else you don’t usually go. Then, lay low. Call me when you get there and I’ll come get you.”

“How are you going to come get me? Your car got towed.”

“Shit, really? I’ll have to borrow a friend’s car, then.”

I frowned. “I told you not to park there!”

“I’ll get a car, don’t worry. Then we can check on Barry.”

“Barry,” I grumbled. “That jerk never showed.”

“There wasn’t time. But now he isn’t answering his phone.”

I thought for a moment. “I’ll make my way to the Pancake House on 56
th
street. Come get me there.”

“What!” Melissa was huffing and puffing. “That’s like a five mile hike. Just, you know, go to the Chick-Fil-A across the street from school or something.”

“I can’t! I
live
at that Chick-Fil-A! You said to go where I
don’t
usually go. I never eat pancakes.”

“Geez, okay, fine. The Pancake House. Or wherever. Call me when you get there, but I’ll need at least an hour.”

“Okay.” I ended the call. Drenched in sweat, partly from running but mostly from fear, I started walking again. It felt like every person on the street knew what I was up to.

* * * * *

Findlay clenched his fists. Now angrier than ever, he wanted his revenge and he knew just how to counterattack. He bellowed into the microphone on the table. “Jonas! Jonas! Are you there?”

The live broadcast feed had stopped, but the cameras and microphones were still connected to the studio. The unflappable Jonas Brown came over the wires. “Mr. Findlay, are you okay?”

Findlay adjusted his ear piece to hear the anchorman better. “Oh, I’m fine. And I still have news for you today. Will you cover it?”