F. Wilson - Secret Histories

a guy who deserted friends.

Better to be grounded for life.

Eddie was first to go in. He resisted, whining a little, but a shove from the trooper got him moving, sliding to the far side. Weezy went next, settling in the

middle. Jack was last.

“You kids wanted to see what’s going on. Wel , now you’ve got box seats.”

Jack leaned against Weezy so the door wouldn’t bang him when the trooper closed it.

It sounded like a prison cel door slamming shut.

As soon as the trooper turned his back, Jack tried the handle—it moved but didn’t open the door. Across the car Eddie wiggled his.

“It doesn’t work!”

“That’s the way police cars are built,” Jack said. “To keep crooks from jumping out. There’s an emergency door release up front”—he tapped on the

thick plastic barrier that confined them to the rear compartment—”but we’l never reach it.”

Weezy was staring at him. “How do you know so—?” Then she nodded. “Oh, I get it. Your deputy friend.”

“Right. He locked me in the back of his cruiser once—just to let me know how it feels. But he also showed me a switch on the door that can undo it.”

“Wel then undo it!” Eddie said.

“You can’t reach it when the door’s closed.”

“What if they’re not cops?” Weezy said in a wondering tone.

Jack looked at her. “Of course they’re cops.”

“What if they’re just pretending to be? Those guys in suits sure don’t look like state cops. What if they’re some secret government agency—?”

Jack waved his hands. “Don’t start with that stuff, Weez. Things are bad enough already. We don’t need a conspiracy too. We’ve got uniformed

troopers driving state trooper cruisers. Let’s leave it at that, okay.”

“I’m serious, Jack. You ever see a trooper with such a bad-fitting shirt? And if a government agency is high enough up, don’t you think it can come in and

commandeer a few cruisers for a night?”

A far-out story, Jack thought, but not impossible. That guy in the suit … he had an air about him that gave Jack the creeps.

“Yeah, but—”

“Let’s just hope they’re real y going to let us go.”

Jack felt his chest tighten. “What are you talking about?”

“Yeah, Weez,” Eddie said. “Cut it out, wil you. You’re scaring me. You’re always scaring me.”

“I’m not trying to scare anyone.” Her calm tone was scary in itself. “But it’s pretty obvious they’re not looking for evidence. So what are they looking for?

Something they don’t want anyone to know about if they find it?”

“Fine,” Jack said. “But that doesn’t mean they’re going to keep us prisoners.”

“We are prisoners, Jack. I’m thinking that real state troopers would have sent us home. We didn’t commit a crime, so why are we locked up in a cop

car?”

Good question, Jack thought. He felt his mouth going dry. Suddenly being grounded didn’t seem so bad.

“Maybe—” He had to clear his throat. “Maybe they don’t want us going home and talking about it and bringing a bunch of people back before they’re

through.”

“Let’s hope so,” she said. “I’m just worried they might not want anyone ever talking about this.”

Eddie started working his handle again. “It’s getting stuffy in here.” He sounded panicky.

Weezy leaned toward Jack and lowered her voice. “He doesn’t like enclosed places. It’s cal ed—”

“Claustrophobia—I know. I may not know ‘gravitas,’ but I know that.”

“I didn’t say you didn’t.”

They fel into silence; the only sound was Eddie’s continuous rattling of his door handle. Jack’s mind raced. They had to get out of this car. But how?

Possibilities popped into his head but he tossed them out one after another as unworkable. And then …

He grabbed Weezy’s arm as a plan leaped ful -blown into his head.

“Wait! Eddie, can you fake getting sick—I mean, puke-type sick?”

“If I’m cooped up in here much longer I won’t have to fake it.”

“Great. Look sick.”

Jack began rapping on his window. The trooper stood a few feet away with his back to them, arms folded across his chest, watching the excavation. He

didn’t turn. He might have been ignoring them, but most likely couldn’t hear them over the racket.

Jack began pounding on the glass with his fists.

Weezy said, “Jack, you’re going to break it.”

“I wish.”

No way he could break auto glass with his bare hands—which were starting to hurt from the impacts.

Final y the trooper turned. His expression turned from bored to annoyed when he saw Jack pounding. After a few seconds of hesitation he walked over

and yanked open the door—not al the way, just a foot or so.

“What the hel do you think you’re doing?”

Jack jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Eddie. “He’s getting sick! He’s gonna puke!”

Right on cue, Eddie retched.

“Oh, no, he’s not!” the trooper said, eyes widening. “Not in any car I’m driving!”

As Jack watched him slam the door and hurry around the rear to Eddie’s side, a question nibbled at his brain. Wouldn’t a real trooper have said “my

car”?

When he reached Eddie’s door he pul ed it open and yanked him out.

“If you’re gonna puke,” he said, pointing Eddie away from the car, “you do it out here.” He turned and jabbed a finger and Jack and Weezy. “Don’t get

any ideas.”

As soon as he turned away, Jack crawled over Weezy.

She gasped. “What are you—?”

“Shhh!”

He stretched out across her lap, reaching for the edge of the half-open door, then hesitated. The trooper was behind Eddie, holding a fistful of the back

of his T-shirt to make sure he didn’t try to run. But if he happened to reach back and slam it closed with Jack’s hand there, it could be bye-bye fingers.

Let’sjusthopethey’rereallygoingtoletusgo…

Do it!

He stretched his arm to the limit, ran his fingers along the rear of the door edge until he found the little toggle switch. He pushed it up—no go. But a

downward push clicked it into a new position—the unlocked position, he hoped.

He straightened up and looked out the rear window. He could see Eddie bent over, retching, putting on a great show.

“C’mon, kid. Get it over with.”

Eddie glanced up over the trunk and Jack gave him a thumbs-up. Eddie straightened and wiped his face with his shirt.

“I feel better now.”

“You’d better be sure,” the trooper said. “You mess up that car, there’l be hel to pay.”

“No, real y. I’m okay. I just don’t like being cooped up.”

“Wel , get used to it. You’re gonna be there awhile.”

He guided Eddie back into the rear seat and slammed the door, then walked back around the car. He checked the door on Jack’s side to make sure it

was latched, then wandered away toward the excavation.

Eddie pul ed on his door handle. The door unlatched.

“Hey! It opens!”

“Keep it closed!” Jack said.

“Why? I thought—”

Jack pointed to the light in the ceiling above their heads. “That goes on when the door’s open. We’ve got to make this fast and time it just right.”

He checked out the trooper. He was maybe a hundred feet away, talking to the guy in the suit. Both had their backs turned.

Now or never.

“Okay. When I give the word, Eddie opens the door, we al dive out, stay low, and run into the bushes. We’l circle around to the bikes and get our butts

back home. Everyone okay with that?”