Hideout

“They’ll never find us here.”

I looked down at the child by my side. Poor kid was exhausted, hungry, and scared, but she was doing her best not to show it. She sighed, and blinked back what looked suspiciously like tears. Then, with an effort I could see, she straightened her back, dug deep, and hitched a smile onto her face.

“What a cool place!” she lied brightly. Her lip trembled the tiniest bit. “It’s like a real-life playhouse!”

My God, she was brave. Braver than any twelve-year-old should need to be.

“Well, let’s move in, shall we?” Our hands clasped tightly for courage, we cautiously approached the sagging door. It was barely hanging by one hinge, and we carefully pushed it open. Inside, the house looked much like it did on the outside: old and rickety, dilapidated and abandoned. One thing was sure, no one had lived here in years. A rustle in the corner drew a sharp glance from me. Well, nothing human had lived here, I qualified.

We took a few steps, still holding hands for courage. When we got to the middle of the shack, we took a good look around. Even the eye of determined optimism had a hard time finding anything good about this place.

It did have a roof - mostly. And four walls, though some of them were see-through from age. Sections of the floor were still sound, though some places would clearly not support even the lightest weight.

There was a loft above a good percentage of the building, with a wooden ladder at one end leading up to it. Ancient wooden shutters blocked some of the windows.

An elderly pot-bellied stove squatted in one corner, its blackened chimney twisting up and through one wall. I made my way over to it. It appeared to be surprisingly sound; there was a good chance we could get a fire going in it. A small fire. We mustn’t give our position away. Although I had told Regina that they would never find us here, that wasn’t necessarily the complete truth. We both knew that.

But we were here for the night, for better or for worse. We simply could not go on a minute more. There were limits even to my endurance, and it was nothing short of a miracle that we had made it this far. Regina, whether she would admit it or not, was all in.

I identified the driest, sturdiest-looking area of our unappetizing home-away-home for the night, close to the stove. Using a dry pine branch as a broom, I swept the area as clean as I could. Opening my backpack, I pulled out a tiny package that identified itself - rather grandly, I thought - as an “Emergency Space Blanket.” I gave it a doubtful look, and caught Regina’s solemn gaze on me. Summoning an enthusiasm that I in no way felt, I said brightly, “Look! We have a handy-dandy, high-tech Space Blanket! Like the astronauts use!”

She didn’t believe me for a second, but she was as willing to pretend as I was. “Oh, that’s terrific!” she pronounced. “Look how shiny! It’s like the aluminum foil that you use to bake potatoes in a campfire! We’ll be as warm as baked potatoes!”

She looked longingly at the little wood stove. “Speaking of campfires…” she began, “...do you suppose we can make a fire in that?”

I hesitated, weighing the hazards and the benefits. But her wistful look, quickly erased by another too-bright grin, did me in. “Absolutely!” I said firmly. Her relieved smile broke my heart. “You make like an astronaut and wrap up in that Space Blanket while I get a fire going.” She tucked the thin silvery sheet around her until she looked like a Regina-burrito.

I examined the wood stove. It actually looked pretty serviceable. I gathered up some of the leaves and twigs on the floor and piled them near the stove, then slipped through the door in search of bigger fuel. A cautious look around indicated that we were still alone and safe. On alert the whole time, I gathered up dead wood that I thought I could break small enough to stuff into the stove. I did have my Swiss Army knife, but it - and I - was not up to sawing through anything too big. Besides, the interior of the stove was pretty small.

When I returned to Regina, I found her curled up and nearly asleep. I set about coaxing a warming fire to life in the stove. When it was going well enough to step away, I turned to my backpack, carefully sorting through the contents.

I hadn’t had time to grab much, but certain things were always in the pack: my Swiss Army knife; several of the “space blankets”; two bottles of water; matches; a compass; a small first aid kit. Additionally, I had thrown in a few emergency supplies: beef jerky; Kind bars (the ones that lasted forever and didn’t melt); peanut-butter-and-crackers packages; raisins and peanuts. And - glory of glories - FOUR Snickers bars. A veritable feast.

I handed one of the precious Snickers bars to Regina. “No, thank you,” she said politely.

“Yes, thank you!” I countered. “You’re running on empty, Kiddo. You have to eat something. Might as well be a Snickers bar.”

She smiled tiredly, but took the offered chocolate. As she chewed slowly, savoring every bite, a little color returned to her pinched face.

“Better?” I asked when she’d finished.

“Better,” she agreed.

“Good. Now you can sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”

She nodded sleepily, yawned adorably, tucked her hands back into her Space Blanket, and was asleep in seconds.

“Right,” I said to myself, as I nibbled at my own Snickers bar. “Tomorrow’s another day. If we make it through the night.” Well, it was my job to see that we did.

I looked over at the sleeping child, curled tightly into a silver-wrapped ball. She made such a tiny package. How could anyone want to hurt her?

But someone did. Which was why we were here, hiding out in this dilapidated shack in the middle of nowhere.

Regina was the only child of a terrifyingly brilliant scientist. Her father, Gregory Albert Havkemeyer, was instrumental in the ongoing not-so-Cold War nuclear missile race. A genius even among geniuses, he held the key to “winning” that War. He had developed some sort of “device” that put all the other armaments to shame. Whoever held this “device” held the power to rule the world.

And whoever held his daughter held the power to rule Gregory Albert Havkemeyer. She was all that he cared about in the world. Her mother had been killed in the last attempt someone had made to imprison Havkemeyer, three years ago, when Regina was only nine. Havkemeyer - and his daughter - boasted some of the tightest security on Earth. However, treachery oozed its way into their protected lives, when a meticulously planned conspiracy reared its ugly head, killing the defenders of their household and taking Havkemeyer hostage.

I had managed to steal away with Regina, catching wind of the conspiracy at the last second. We had hidden in a secret room, scurried up a concealed staircase, and managed to climb down from the roof of the Havkemeyer mansion by utilizing a massive oak tree whose roof-grazing branches were just sturdy enough to support the weight of a tomboy 12-year-old and her very athletic guardian.

We had taken to the woods, and now here we were: in the middle of nowhere, in a rundown cabin, with no electricity, no telephone, and no cell service. But we were still alive. At least for the moment. And I intended to do all in my power to make sure that we stayed that way.

I managed to stay awake through the night, watching over my charge, but I couldn’t go on like that for much longer. As the dawn touched the edges of the windows, I got up and stirred the fire, making sure that it was “out cold.” I gently woke Regina, reminding her, with a finger on her lips, to keep quiet. I was pretty sure that we were still alone out here, but why take chances. We breakfasted on Kind bars and a sip of water.

Now for the hard part.

“Regina,” I began gently.

“Yes?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m going to have to ask you to be very brave,” I told her. Her eyes darkened.

“You’re leaving me,” she stated. “Aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, yes,” I admitted with a sigh. She bit her lip. I bit mine. “I don’t want to, you know that.” She nodded solemnly.

“But?” She waited. “There’s always a ‘but’.”

“Yes. But. I have to try to find out what’s going on. And you’ll be safer without me while I’m doing the checking. So I’m going to ask you to stay here, while I go check things out.” I studied her. She was taking it very well. Better than any twelve-year-old should be able to. “I’m going to give you a choice,” I went on. “You can stay here, or we can move on until we find another place to hide you.”

I waited. She thought. “Do you know of another place?” she asked.

Fair enough. “No. We were lucky to find this. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t another place.”

“Can I go up in the loft?” she asked. “I’d be able to see ‘em coming from there,” she added persuasively.

“Good thinking. Let’s see.”

I climbed the ladder, which was reassuringly strong and sturdy, until I reached the loft. I carefully crawled onto the floor, testing the boards to make sure they would hold my weight. Surprisingly, they were in pretty good shape. And, as a bonus, there was loose hay up here, which could provide both a screen to hide behind and a modicum of warmth.

I peered over the edge at her where she waited at the foot of the ladder. “Come on up. Just be careful.” Soon she was beside me.

Looking around, she nodded her approval. “Not bad. All it needs is an escape rope. So if I have to, I can climb out a window without breaking anything important.”

“Kiddo, every inch of you is important!” I hugged her and was rewarded with a glimmer of a smile. “A rope is a good idea. I have one in my backpack.”

I retrieved the rope and tied some knots in it to make it easier to grip, should she actually have to use it, though I hoped it wouldn’t come to that. We looped it around a fairly sturdy board beside the window and coiled it neatly beneath the opening.

“Well?” I asked.

“It’ll do,” she pronounced.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I assured her. I turned to climb down the rickety ladder.

“Wait!” she hissed.

“What?” I hissed back.

“We need a signal,” she stated. “So I’ll know it’s you when you come back.” She looked pleased with her idea, so I nodded soberly.

“Right. How about a secret knock?” I suggested.

She nodded, and we spent a minute coming up with a knocking pattern that she liked. “Now listen,” I knelt before her, eye to eye, holding her tiny hands in mine.

“Don’t say it,” she said.

But I continued. “If I don’t come back - “

“NO!” she said, too loud. “You have to come back.”

“Regina - “

“No,” she said again, holding up a hand to silence me. “If you don’t come back, that means you’re dead,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And if you’re dead, then I’m dead. So you have to come back.”

Defeated, I nodded. “OK, Kiddo. Wish us both luck.” We made a show of crossing our fingers and performing our secret handshake, and then I turned away to climb back down the ladder. Regina scurried back into the hay.

I cautiously peered out the door. Looked. Listened. Looked again. Even sniffed the air for good measure. Then I ventured out. Fought down the urge to look back; that would be unhelpful, to say the least, if anyone was watching me.

I flitted through the woods like a shadow. I had been in these parts, long ago, but of course things had changed. There had been a scattering of houses then, but now most of them had fallen into disrepair. Slipping into the shadow of a tree, I closed my eyes to picture the lay of the land.

The attack came out of nowhere. Suddenly, arms were wrapped around me, arms with the strength of a gorilla. I fought back with every fiber of my being, running through every self-defense trick that I had been taught. My assailant shook me like a rag doll, banging my head against a tree. I forced myself to go limp, becoming dead weight in his arms. I’d always thought that this particular strategy was a terrible idea, but, hey, I’d run out of options.

The arms around me loosened, lowering me to the ground. My attacker squatted in front of me, reaching a hand out to check if I was really out.

I grabbed that hand and bit it as hard as I could, at the same time driving my other hand up for an upward shove to the nose. For good measure, I kicked him in the groin as hard as I could. He fell back, roaring in pain, and I grabbed a nearby branch and hit him on the head as hard as I could. The branch splintered, but he lay still. Not to be tricked by my own trick, I found another branch and hit him again. And again. I kicked him in the knee, just to be sure he was really out, not just playing possum. Not a twitch.

A check of his pockets yielded a wallet bulging with several hundred dollars’ worth of cash, and a license that informed me that my attacker-turned-victim was named John Smith. Really? I thought. John Smith? Right!

I confiscated his belt, and the sheathed knife that hung from it. I relieved him of his shoulder holster, complete with a Glock and its ammo. I took off my jacket, slipped the holster on, then zipped the jacket to conceal it. Its comforting weight made me feel much better.

With a glance at my watch, I turned my attention to a quick peek in his backpack. More goodies for me: a can of pepper spray, a handful of zip-ties, and another wicked-looking knife. And food! Nuts, protein bars, trail mix.

Almost as an afterthought, I checked for a pulse. I didn’t really care if the guy was dead or alive, to be honest, but it seemed a waste of time and resources to truss up a dead body. But his pulse was strong and steady, so I took a moment to zip-tie his wrists and ankles and used the bandanna from his back pocket for a gag.

A sudden crackle of static made me jump. “Eddie? Any luck?” I followed the sound to locate the radio, flung a few feet away, which I added to my hoard. “Eddie!”

Time to go. I slipped on the backpack and melted into the woods.

Now what? I knew that there were at least two of them. How many more?

The radio crackled again. It sounded like the same voice. “Selby! Come in, Selby!”

Selby? I thought. As in, Selby the Havkemeyers’ cook? Well, there was our inside man. Er - inside woman.

“What?!” a female voice snapped. “What’s your problem, Brad?” Yup, definitely the cook. “Did you find the brat yet?”

“No, no sign of her or the woman. You know, if you’d done your job, we wouldn’t be out here, traipsing through the woods, looking for them! She’d’ve been out cold in her bed, easy pickin’s.”

“Don’t give me that! I doped up her food good. Not my fault the brat didn’t eat it!”

Another voice interrupted their argument. “Drop it, you two! Stick to the job!” From the authoritative attitude, this must be the boss. “Brad, did you say you lost contact with Eddie?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“How long ago?”

“Half hour. Hour.”

“WHICH? Half hour or hour?”

“Uh - “

“Never mind! Get to his last known location, STAT!”

“Yes, Boss. Will do.”

Okay, I thought. Eddie plus Selby plus Brad plus the Boss. Well, I’d taken Eddie out, but that still left three. And I didn’t know how close the others were. Three hired killers against a twelve-year-old and little old me. I didn’t like our odds.

And I didn’t like Regina alone in the loft of that shack. I had to get back to her, and we had to keep moving.

The radio crackled to life again. “Hey!” It was Brad’s voice. “There’s a house back here!”

Damn! They’d found our hideaway! I headed that way as fast as I could, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“Looks empty,” Brad’s voice continued.

“Wait for backup!” the Boss ordered.

“Selby can catch up later!” Brad scoffed. “I’m not waitin’ for her! It’s just over the top of the hill. Even she can’t miss it! Goin’ silent now, don’t want to spook ‘em. Over and out.”

“NO!” the Boss shouted. “Brad! Brad?” A string of curses. “Selby!”

“Yeah, Boss.”

“Get over there as fast as you can. Before that idiot blows the whole thing.”

“Yeah, yeah. Always coverin’ for him. Headin’ up the hill.”

I continued my as-silent-as-possible race back to Regina. Damn! I thought. I should never have left her!

Off to my right, just downhill from me, I saw a flash of pink. Selby, making her noisy way up the hill without even bothering to look around her. I ducked behind an overhanging rock to watch and wait, just off the deer path Selby was following. When the path ran beneath my rock, I launched myself off the top to land on her back in a bruising tackle. She let out a tortured “Oof!” as the air was knocked from her lungs. I had the Glock in my hand in a heartbeat, reversed, and brought the butt of the gun down just behind her ear. She was knocked cold.

My hasty search of her yielded little: a girlie little Derringer, a sheathed knife on her belt. Not really a soldier, this one. She didn’t even have a backpack. I dragged her behind the rock I had launched from, used more of Eddie’s zip-ties to fasten her wrists and ankles, and pressed her silk scarf into service for a gag. No bandanna for this one. I added the Derringer, the knife, and the radio to my - well, Eddie’s - backpack. In less time than it takes to tell it, I was on my way again, racing up the hill.

I reached the edge of the clearing at last. All appeared quiet. I crept closer, staying under cover. Nothing. I flitted across the open space to flatten myself against the wall. Took a deep breath and peeked through the gaping window. And my heart stopped.

Regina stood defiantly at the edge of the loft. A man - must be Brad - in full combat gear stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking up at her.

“Come and get me!” she challenged.

An evil grin spread across the man’s face. “Don’t mind if I do!” he drawled. “You just wait right there, honey.” He reached for the ladder, stepped onto the first rung.

“Not on my watch, you bastard!” I growled under my breath. “You leave my little girl alone!”

I raced around the building to the door. Just as I reached to open it, I heard a crash!

“Aagh! You little-”

I kicked the door open and leaped through, weapon drawn. There, on the ground, pinned down by the heavy ladder, lay my adversary. Blood streamed from his nose, and a puddle of red was forming under his head. His right leg was twisted beneath him, at an ugly angle. His hand, trapped beneath the ladder, twitched towards his gun.

“Oh, no you don’t!” I warned. “I would LOVE a reason to shoot you!”

The man lay still.

Keeping the gun trained on him, I looked up at Regina. She had a smug smile on her face.

“You okay, Kiddo?” I asked.

“I’m great!” she replied.

“The ladder…”

“Well,” she began, swinging her legs from her perch at the edge of the loft, “I needed something to do while I was waiting for you to come back. So I rocked the ladder back and forth ‘til the nails got loose. Then, when this guy started to climb it, I kicked it over. He fell just like the Orcs at Helm’s Deep, didn’t he?” She beamed at me.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Just like that.” I gazed up in awe at this remarkable, brave, resilient little lady. “You’re really something, you know?” I tipped my hat to her.

She giggled. “Well, us girls have to stick together, right? We’re strong when we stick together!”

“We certainly are.”

Hours later, our nightmare was finally over. We had eventually managed to raise a ham radio operator on Brad’s radio, and he in turn had raised the police. The authorities had come streaming up here to relieve us of our prisoners, both here and in the woods, where I had left the others. Brad, Regina’s victim, couldn’t talk fast enough, and was more than happy to divulge the full plot in exchange for immunity. Enough names had been dropped to keep several government agencies busy tracking targets down and neutralizing them. A SWAT team had been dispatched to the location where Regina’s father was being held, and he was rescued unharmed.

After a tearful father-daughter reunion, and a purging of every man and woman who had been working for the Havkemeyers at the time of the plot - well, everyone except for me - Regina and I were relaxing by the pool.

“Do you miss them?” I asked her. “Do you miss all the people who used to work around here?”

She shrugged. “Not really. As long as I get to keep you.” She smiled at me. “You were always my favorite,” she confessed. “Even before the - well, you know.”

“Well, thanks! You’re my favorite Kiddo!” I smiled back at her.

“I’m your only Kiddo,” she pointed out.

“True,” I conceded. “Good thing you’re my favorite.”

“Good thing,” she agreed.