Shift

Chapter 6

Running is not my thing.

Tory might exercise for fun, but not me. That’s what video games are for.

“Move it, Hi!” Ben hissed, then bolted after Shelton and Tory.

“Why?” I whisper-shouted. “We didn’t do anything! I’m comfortable giving up!” But the others were barreling for the hedge on the opposite side of Building One.

You’re flaring, you idiot! Haul ass!

“Not cool!” Fortunately, I can be quick when necessary.

Flaring, I could practically fly.

Head down, I booked past the front doors just as two figures emerged from inside. Kit. Hudson. Their heads turned as I zoomed by and out of sight.

My faster buddies were already hunkered behind the greenery.

“Keep going!” I didn’t slow, kept hauling full speed. “I think Hudson saw me!”

Shelton winced. “The last thing we need.”

Now in the lead, I sped past Shed Three, then zagged behind a row of dogwoods. The others piled in beside me.

“There’s no cover here,” Ben warned. “But the vehicle depot has a retaining wall. We can duck behind that.”

He and Tory sped forward in a blink. Wolf powers unleashed, they moved like smoke. Shelton followed on their heels. I watched the trail behind us. Somebody had to.

I heard sneakers on concrete. Knew they’d reached the hiding place.

“Moves like Jagger,” I whispered, then pounded after the others.

Behind me, my enhanced ears detected footfalls.

Frick!

Twenty yards. My objective lay dead ahead.

My shades flew as I vaulted the chest-high wall.

And landed on Ben.

“Ack.” He toppled backward with a thud. “Get off me, Double Stack!”

“Serves you right,” I panted. “Vengeance is mine.”

Ben’s knee connected with my gut.

“Ooof!” I rolled to my back, crawled for cover, and collapsed.

Ben crouched beside me, rubbing his face. “You almost broke my nose.”

“You punctured my lungs. And my spleen. And my ovaries.” Not true. But flaring, I could feel bruises forming in my midsection. “You’ll pay for these crimes, Blue.”

“Any time, chunk.” Ben slapped my back. Which hurt, too.

“Shh!” Shelton sat, back pressed to the wall, ear cocked toward Building One. Seconds ticked by. Finally, “No one’s coming.”

Then he rounded on Ben and Tory. “Why are we all runnin’ and hidin’ in the first place? Why not just snuff our flares? News flash: They already know we’re out here! And we haven’t done anything bad. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m not ready to quit.” Tory pulled a twig from her hair. Her eyes were still hidden behind black Ray-Bans, but I recognized the stubborn set to her chin. “I want to finish our inspection, without interruption.”

Classic Tory.

“God, I respect you,” I deadpanned, flat on my back.

“Shut it, Hi. We’ll check this garage first, then the other buildings on this side of the courtyard, one by one, like before. Any objections?”

Hearing none, Tory popped to her feet.

I rolled to my side, fully intending to stand.

Didn’t happen. My lungs weren’t ready for duty just yet.

So I lay on the concrete, panting, plotting my revenge on Ben.

Vehicle Depot A resembles a small fire station. Three garage-like doors provide access to a single mechanic’s bay. To the right of the doors, a separate entrance leads to a few small offices, workrooms, and an employee break room.

The wall sheltering us was barely five feet high, and separated the depot’s rectangular driveway from LIRI’s main courtyard. Inside the wall, to the building’s left, a grassy area stretched to the hedge line bordering Shed Three.

I lay in the wall’s shadow, directly facing the last garage door.

From my unique vantage point — face to the concrete — I noticed something.

Wet specks. On the pavement.

Curious, I lifted my head slightly. Zeroed my flare vision.

Details snapped into HD. The specks became fragmented streaks.

Parallel lines, a foot apart. Nearly invisible.

Tracks. Wheels?

LIRI had a fleet of ATVs, but they used wide tires, suitable for off-road terrain.

But these treads were thin, more like those of a bicycle. Extremely light, too. Without my flare vision, I’d never have noticed them. The tracks couldn’t have been there more than a few hours. In another, they would fade completely.

“Something that rolls,” I murmured. “But not a motor vehicle.”

Shelton looked up. “You say something?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes traced the lines across the driveway.

Another surprise. Instead of joining the path, they swerved into the grass.

“Huh.”

I rose to my hands and knees and crawled to where the concrete ended and the grass began. Then, pressing my cheek flat on the pavement again, I examined the yard.

There. Twin ranks of broken blades, running directly toward the hedge.

“Hey, now.”

I sat back on my heels and squinted hard at the bushes. Spotted a gap right where the tracks ended. The damage was plain to see. Snapped branches. Crushed leaves. As if something heavy had been forced through them recently.

But what?

Then I had it. “A hand truck.”

“Hiram?” Shelton was eyeing me closely. “You okay, man? ’Cause I’m not getting a hand truck to lift your sorry butt. Suck it up.”

“No.” I bounced to my feet. “Look at these wet streaks. The grass. That hedge. Something heavy was rolled through here. I’m guessing a hand truck.”

Tory was beside me in flash. “Where? Show me.”

I explained my observations, step by step.

Shelton whistled. “You see like a damn eagle.”

“Great work, Hi.” Tory beamed.

I drank in the praise. “Also, whatever the load was, it came through here in the last few hours.”

Shelton frowned. “How can you tell?”

“Wet wheels.” Tory looked to me for confirmation.

“Correctamundo. It hasn’t rained for days. Whatever made these tracks must’ve rolled through last night’s dew. These tread marks will evaporate soon. They’re almost gone now.”

Ben chucked my shoulder. “Nice work, Thick Burger.”

“Thank yourself. If you hadn’t viciously assaulted me, I’d never have noticed.”

Ben nodded stoically. “So in a way, I’m the hero.”

I snorted. “Benjamin, you’ve done it again.”

“These tracks lead… there.” Tory walked to the last garage door in the row.

Though dirty, it looked serviceable. But a trio of rusty barrels blocked it.

Ben walked over and tugged the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

“Aha.” He kicked the base of the door. “There’s a spiffy new padlock.”

“Look at the pavement near the wall.” Shelton pointed to a spot a dozen yards away, in the corner of the driveway. Red-brown accretions tarnished the concrete. “Those are rust stains, from these barrels. They used to be over there. Somebody’s hiding something!”

I puffed out my chest. “I’d like to take a moment to thank all the little people who contributed to my success. Shelton, you’ve always been a stand-up guy, and—”

“Can it, Hi.” Ben shoved one of the barrels. “Water, I think. Half empty.”

Tory was all business. “We have to get inside.”

“On it.” Ben tossed Shelton his shades, wrapped his arms around a barrel, lifted, and hauled it to the side. Golden eyes gleaming, he repeated the process three more times until the doorway was clear.

Tory looked at Shelton. Pointed to the padlock.

“Why not get Kit?” Shelton whined. “Why break in?”

“Because we don’t know if we’re right,” Tory said calmly. “What if these tracks have nothing to do with the theft? You feel like looking ridiculous?”

“Always bullying me into felonies,” Shelton mumbled.

He pulled out his key chain and selected from his trusty lock-pick set. In moments Shelton was on one knee, jimmying the padlock.

“Wish I’d never bought these stupid picks,” Shelton grumbled. “Now I’m a damn universal entry card.”

“Poor baby.” Tory squeezed Shelton’s shoulder. “Victim of your own talent.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Ben moved to the wall to keep watch. He needn’t have bothered.

In less than a minute I heard a click.

Shelton stood, handed Tory the padlock. “There.” Shaking his head. “One more B and E for my juvie record. I’ll never be president.”

“Pssh.” I flapped a hand. “The Oval Office is perfect for a criminal like you.”

Tory reached for the handle and pulled. This time, the door rose easily.

Single file, we snuck inside.