Among the Brave

Chapter Eight

Trey began thinking very strategically.

First, he ate as much of the food from the stopped refrigerator and freezer as he could, before it spoiled. He drank nearly a gallon of milk, gobbled down a frozen dinner, forced himself to swallow a pint of ice cream — a delicacy he’d never had before, but that seemed cloyingly sweet after the first two bites. He ate it anyway.

Then he set up a lookout station beside the TV room window. If the boy wasn’t Smits, Trey didn’t want to reveal himself. But if Smits and Lee had been staying in the house behind the Talbots’ the whole time. well, Trey wanted to get over there as soon as possible.

The boy stayed in the barn for a very long time.

When he came out, it was too dark for Trey to see anything but a shadowy shape. Disappointment bit at the back of Trey’s throat, but he forced himself to sit still and wait and watch some more.

The boy went into the house, where the candles were still glowing in the windows. Maybe with the candlelight, Trey would be able to see— Somebody drew the drapes.

Trey was so frustrated that he kicked over one of the few coffee tables that the uniformed men had left upright.

But after a little while, the boy came outside again— Trey was sure it was the same boy He stood in the doorway of the house and seemed to be saying something over his shoulder, to someone Trey couldn’t see.

Trey dared to open the TV room window, just a crack. If he couldn’t see, maybe at least he’d be able to hear something. If only it was Lee’s voice…

Faintly, Trey heard someone call out, ".. too late in the year for fireflies.”

And the boy in the doorway called back, “No, it isn’t. I see one. There!” And he pointed at a tiny gleam of light hovering near a bush by the barn.

Trey couldn’t tell if the voices were Smits’s and Lee’s; Trey were too far away And besides, Trey’s ears weren’t working too well — every sound he heard right now was distorted by his hopes and fears.

He’d have to go out there and see for himself if the boy was really Smits.

Daringly Trey reached over to a full-length glass door beside his spying window. With trembling hands, he unlocked it and slid it open. Then he took a deep breath and stepped outside.

The night air felt cool and menacing on his face. Trey grimaced and reminded himself that he had the cover of darkness to protect him, that he was in no greater danger outdoors than he’d been while cowering inside the Talbots’ house.

You’re probably even safer now, he told himself. You could have been trapped indoors if someone dangerous showed up.

Trey could think that — but he couldn’t quite believe it. Outdoors was always scarier than indoors, no matter what.

Inching forward, Trey kept his gaze fixed on the boy. He was running around his backyard now, chasing a tiny pinpoint of light that flashed off and on. Trey reached a line of trees that separated the Talbots’ yard from the boy’s. Trey squinted, trying frantically to tell if the boy was Smits, but against the lights of the house, the boy was just a dark silhouette.

Wrong angle, Trey thought As long as the boy’s between me and the light, I’m never going to be able to see him clearly. Same principle as a solar eclipse.

Pleased that his knowledge had been useful for once, Trey crept toward the barn and crawled behind a bush. Now he was closer to the light, but there wasn’t enough of it to illuminate the boy’s face, no matter where the boy was in the yard. Suddenly the boy dashed right past Trey’s hiding place, and, without thinking, Trey reached out and grabbed him.

The boy screamed. Trey slapped his hand over the boy’s mouth, whirled him around, and held him against the side of the barn.

“Smits!” he hissed into the boy’s ear. “Are you Smits Grant?”

The boy began to shake his head violently Trey moved his hand back a little.

“No! I’m — I’m Peter Goodard! I’m — help!”

Trey clapped his hand over the boy’s mouth again. No matter how much he denied it, the boy was Smits; Trey had finally recognized the voice. Now Trey just had to get Smits to recognize him.

“Smits! It’s okay. It’s me — Trey I’m just looking for Lee—”

Out of nowhere, a fist walloped the side of Trey’s face. He lost his balance and crashed through the branches of the bush, plunging straight to the ground and pulling Smits along with him.

“Hey Peter,” a deeper voice said from above them. “This punk bothering you?”

Trey looked up at the dark figure looming over him. Somehow, not being able to see the boy’s — the man’s? — face made him even scarier.

“Anybody messes with Peter, you’ve got to answer to me,” the voice continued.

Trey huddled in terror on the ground.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Trey pleaded. “I know Smits. Or Peter — whatever he’s calling himself now. I just want him to tell me where one of my friends is. Smits, come on, you’ve got to remember me….”

Trey could see that the person standing over him was rearing his fist back, ready to punch Trey again. Trey flinched, waiting for the inevitable pain, and Smits tried to squirm away Trey managed to keep his hand over Smits’s mouth until the last minute when he let go just so he could protect his own face with both hands.

Then Smits called out, “Wait, Mark! Don’t hit him! This really is a friend of Lee’s. And a friend of mine.”

Trey dared to peek out between his fingers. The hulking figure above him — Mark? — had relaxed his fists.

“A friend? Why didn’t you say so sooner?” Mark growled.

“Trey had his hand over my mouth and I couldn’t talk,” Smits said matter-of-factly.

Great, Trey thought I almost caused my own death by muzzling Smits. He felt totally drained suddenly Aftereffects of an adrenaline surge, he told himself.

“Look,” he mustered the energy to say, “Lee can straighten all this out. Just get Lee to come out here and explain.”

Smits sat up. It seemed like the moon had risen just in the past few minutes, and now its beams fell directly on Smits’s face. Even in such dim light, Trey could tell that Smits looked baffled.

“But, Trey” Smits said, “I thought Lee was with you. The chauffeur came and got him that very first day.”