Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

“Okay, you ready?” Will’s friend asked, nudging Will’s arm.

“Almost,” Will said. He was staring at the duffle bag just barely visible in the moonlight behind the jeep as he answered.

“Ready for what?” I asked innocently.

We were just arriving with our so-called press materials when Will leapt back over the four-foot fence and darted toward the jeep again. I wanted to ask more questions, yet I suspected that they too would inevitably fall to the unforgiving ground beneath us. And at this point, I wasn’t even exactly sure if I wanted to know the answer anyway. Instead, I remained silent, resolving to figure the rest of the mystery out on my own, as my eyes followed Will’s path back to the jeep until he finally disappeared from my site.

“Boys, seriously, at least tell me how long this is going to take,” Rachel questioned impatiently. “I’m leaving for this trip to my grandmother’s tomorrow, and I haven’t packed yet — not like there’s anything to pack. It’s not like there’s going to be anything to do there or anyone to impress…”

“Rachel,” I whispered softly, elbowing her arm and interrupting what seemed like it was going to be an endless soliloquy.

I was staring at Will — or what had been Will moments ago.

In the moonlight, we all witnessed something straight out of the comic books. In spandex from head to toe, Will emerged from the darkness wearing a red and blue, webbed suit, complete with a spider-eyed mask. In seconds, Will had become none other than Spiderman.

“Will, what are you going to do,” I asked somewhat concerned, while trying to hold back wanting to laugh.

As I questioned Will, I watched the other two boys taking their positions on the other side of the fence. Spiderman too soon followed, easily swinging his long legs over the barricade and landing on the other side as well.

“Will Stephens! You are not climbing that windmill,” I scolded him as his scheme became more and more evident to me.

“Are you crazy, Jules? I’m not going to climb it,” he said with a crooked smile as he motioned to his friends.

The boys hoisted Will to where he was just off of the ground, and Will grabbed a hold of a rusty, metal bar that connected the windmill’s two, horizontal legs.

“Okay, Jules, you can take the picture now,” Will shouted down from his perch. “And Rachel, watch for cops, will ya?”

My gaze went directly to Rachel, who rolled her eyes.

“Hey, like I said, I’m just an innocent bystander. You kidnapped me from my home thirty minutes ago. I’m seeing nothing, and when you drop me off at home tonight, I will have seen nothing,” Rachel replied, smiling back at my questioning look. “How would I explain this anyway?”

I laughed at Rachel’s remark and turned my eyes back onto my boyfriend illegally climbing a big windmill for no real, apparent reason.

“You look ridiculous,” I said to Will as I surrendered playfully and reached for the camera in my jacket’s pocket and aimed the lens toward Spiderman. “Let’s just get this over with.”

I snapped several photos before Rachel’s shrill frightened me, causing me to fumble the camera.

“I see lights. Someone’s coming,” Rachel shouted up at Will.

All eyes, including Will’s, jetted toward the lights inching down the all-but-abandoned road as instant panic set in.

The old windmill sat secluded almost five miles down a deserted, gravel path. There were no other paths leading out except for the one that we had come in on, and we would have to hurry if we wanted any chance at escaping without detection.

“Will, get down,” I shouted, turning my camera off and shoving it back into my jacket pocket.

Rachel quickly took off toward the jeep, while Will jumped from the boys’ hold and off of the metal frame. Within seconds, the two boys had scaled the four-foot fence and were darting toward the SUV as well. Rachel was already in the driver’s seat, shouting at everyone else to get into the car by the time Will’s buddies made it to the jeep. One boy grabbed the duffle bag sitting on the ground behind the SUV and jumped into the backseat after the other. Then, Will scaled the fence, grabbed my hand, and together we ran to our get-away car.

“Wait, Jules, my tennis shoes,” Will said aloud. “Keep running. I’ll go get them.”

Within seconds, he had let go of my hand and was darting toward the back of the jeep, leaving me behind.

But before I could even realize what was happening, a sharp pain raced through my ankle, causing me to fall into a disheveled ball to the ground.

“Will,” I screamed, grabbing my ankle.

“Jules,” Will shouted as he paused at the jeep’s door, shoes in hand. He had to have been able to see me. The jeep’s lights were, by now, blinding me, adding to my misery.

“Go,” Will shouted to Rachel through his mask, throwing his shoes into the back of the jeep. “Come back and get us in an hour.”

“I can’t leave you guys here,” Rachel protested. “What if it’s a crazy trucker and this turns into a horror movie?”

Will paused to look at Rachel. His face was both puzzled and amused.

“You’re watching too many movies. It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine. Now go,” I heard Will say again quickly, as he tapped the jeep’s hood and jetted back toward me.

Rachel glanced toward the lights in the distance and reluctantly put the car into reverse and then drive and peeled out of the rock-mixed-with-dirt, makeshift parking lot. And within seconds, she and the two boys were on the open road and out of site.

When Will reached me, he scooped me up into his arms and hurriedly carried me over a raised piece of land on the far side of the tower, away from the gravel road. He laid me down on the ground, resting my back up against the dirt and grass-filled hill. Then, he found a place next to me.

“What happened?” Will asked, after he had successfully sheltered us from detection.

I squinted as I repositioned my foot and then turned my face toward him. Through my throbbing pain, I bore an awkward smile. I couldn’t help not to.

“I stepped in a hole,” I said, groaning. “I think I rolled it or sprained it or something.”

Will grabbed a rock about the size of a bowling ball and gently lifted my foot onto it.

“This should help. Try not to move it for now. Does it feel like it’s broken?” he asked.

“No, it’s not broken. I’ll be fine,” I answered him, wincing.

The sound of tires rolling over loose gravel caused both of us to freeze then. Will turned onto his stomach and peered over the short levee and through its tall, swaying grasses, like he was in some kind of war movie. The clouds had completely covered the moon, and now, the only thing visible was the mysterious car’s two lights. Will watched the headlights slow as the vehicle crept past the metal structure. I lay against the warm soil with my back to the suspenseful scene, still frozen in my place, wishing I could see what was happening, my heart pounding.

Seconds drew out until I could no longer hear the gravel crunching underneath the tires’ weight.

“Will, who is it?” I whispered nervously.

“I think it’s Brian,” Will whispered back.

“It had to be him working tonight, didn’t it?” I whispered. “I still think he missed his calling as Oscar the Grouch’s puppeteer.”

Will’s eyes stayed on the stalled car for an agonizing minute before the gravel began to give way again under the pressure of the patrol car’s tires. Will let out a sigh of relief as he watched the vehicle slowly push forward, continuing along its straight path.

“Red taillights,” Will exclaimed, sounding relieved.

“Well, I think we might have just evaded danger once again, Mary Jane,” Will, now almost giddy and, I’m sure, full of adrenaline, announced as he met my eyes.