The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology Read online

  “My dad said Nevada.”

  “There is a series of underground caves where a group has created a safe house.”

  “A house?”

  She finally faced me. “Well, Dad says it’s more like a community.”

  “I hope we’ll be back before school starts.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

  My hand moved to the ID tag around my neck. I hoped the stupid AALC scare wasn’t like the last one. If it was, two years of my life could be wasted off the grid.

  “We have to store our tag in a box when we get to the forest.” Jema twirled her necklace around a finger.

  I wondered if she felt like I did about it. We were taught from a young age never to take the tag off except to shower, and it felt like an extension of me. The metal plate indicated my name, ID number, and birthdate. It read: TROY CAESAR MASTERSON, NATURAL BORN CITIZEN, UNAS. Obviously, that was a lie. And who named their kid Troy Caesar? Literature wasn’t my strongest subject, but history was and I knew Troy to be an ancient Greek city used as the setting for the Trojan War in Homer’s Iliad. Of course, everyone knew Julius Caesar was the most famous Roman leader.

  I wished Bridget were sitting next to me. She hated camouflage, enclosed spaces, and guns though. She’d be a crying mess. I should have bolted for the bus to her house. Her dad liked me okay, and would probably let me stay with them.

  The Walker girl’s mom looked Asian from her features, and I speculated as to why they were running. Maybe she wasn’t registered either. Maybe it was common at the base.

  We rode along in silence, and I rattled through all my survival training in my head to stay awake. It would be hot and dry inland. Once the sun came up, the metal walls of the container we rode in would have us baking. Refocusing on the present, I twisted my wrist around to check the time, and I noticed the girl did too.

  “Five minutes to the border,” she finally said. “Officially the truck is carrying supplies to a port outpost base. We’ll turn east once we are due west of the port.”

  I felt the truck’s engine downshift, and Mom sat up.

  I squatted and whispered to her, “We’re at the border.”

  “I heard Jema’s five-minute warning.” She offered her hand to the girl. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lacey.”

  Jema bowed her head and shook Mom’s hand. “You too.”

  HIS MOM’S HAND slid out of mine like silk. If my friends knew I had been sitting next to Troy Masterson, talking to him even, they would’ve turned green with envy. My best friend, Ava, was a cheerleader and well versed on the jock talent. Troy played first-string quarterback his junior year and was expected to lead the team to the championship as a senior. But we probably wouldn’t get back by the end of the first term, much less for the first game. Even if my friend believed Troy had talked to me, I’d never convince her I’d been sitting beside him, rifle in hand.

  Deciding the trickiest part of the journey had past, I squatted in front of my sister, sliding her over to make room to sit down. Most boys went to survival and military preparedness camps over the summer. Dad thought it sexist and unfair that they wouldn’t allow me to attend. So, since the age of eight, he’d taken me on two week-long camping trips a year, one winter and one summer, teaching me weaponry, hunting, fishing, orienteering, and other survival skills. I always told my friends we were visiting family. We technically were since we’d use my uncle’s land in Montana.

  In the beginning, I’d liked the weeks with my dad and uncle. The last few years all I’d wanted to do was stay home and hang out with my friends on school breaks. With the turn of events, I felt stupid for complaining so much. I reflected on everything Dad had taught me, my heart racing at the prospect of firing at a person.

  Across from me, Troy stood with his feet planted shoulder width apart, balancing himself as the truck came to a complete stop. He gripped one of the ribs in the door and lowered himself to the bench beside his mother. Light from the streetlights made streaks on the floor, and I heard muffled voices. Within a minute, the truck jerked and the engine revved, propelling the vehicle forward again.

  The light inside the space dimmed until I could barely see my own legs. We’d turn east in about an hour, and I wondered if a nap might be a good idea. Setting an alarm for forty-five minutes, I resting my head on the metal wall behind me and closed my eyes. The motion of the truck relaxed me, but my swirling worries kept sleep just beyond my grasp. Every time I nodded off, I heard a new sound and peered around the space, trying to find the source.

  THE SOUND OF my alarm jolted me awake. Slipping my two-way radio from my pocket, I checked in with Dad. “All clear?”

  “Copy.”

  Stowing the device in my pocket, I wished I could be upfront with Dad. After a few minutes, I heard the engine slow and downshift and figured we were nearing the eastbound turn. Clicking the display on my watch, I checked the time, 0403, which put us three minutes off Dad’s timetable. Still unable to see anything beyond Mom, I gripped the ribs in the container wall behind me as the vehicle slowed and turned.

  My radio vibrated in my pocket. “0403, not bad.”

  I smiled at my dad’s words. He was nothing if not punctual. “Not bad, Lieutenant. Now, keep your eyes on the road.”

  “Sunrise is at 0539, so we’ll stop at 0500.”

  “Copy that,” I whispered back into the radio.

  Resting my head on the metal wall behind me, I exhaled. We did it. We’d made it across the border and were off the grid. Once the idea we were safe sunk in, other thoughts crept into my head. I didn’t want to be there. I was supposed to sleep under my soft sheet, wake to my music alarm, bike to dance practice after my fruit smoothie breakfast, and meet up with Ava to do some clothes shopping.

  Temporarily hijacked by survival mode, my brain switched back to dealing with the anger and frustration over the night’s events. How could Dad do this to me? Why couldn’t he just send Mom and Nave? I was old enough to make my own decisions. If I wasn’t safe on the base, I could’ve gone to live with Uncle Owen on his land. I’d rather be in the forest of Montana than in a Nevada desert. Of course, I hadn’t seen Owen in two years. No one had. Dad had stopped talking about him. Whenever Mom mentioned his brother, Dad got quiet and stomped away.

  The truck slowed, and I checked my compass. The needle still pointed southeast, and I wondered when we’d turn east. My knowledge of the plan ended at the last turn. We hadn’t had enough time from our home to the warehouse for Dad to tell me everything. I had no idea which road we would take, much less how passable the route would be. It’d been fifteen years since they’d shut the border. What could fifteen years of baking sun do to asphalt or concrete? Still, the vehicle seemed to regain its prior speed, and I reclined against the metal wall again.

  My device dinged, startling me, and I straightened my back and retrieved the radio. “Yes.”

  “0500. Stop.”

  “Copy.”

  As the truck slowed, I got up and stretched. Troy rose to his feet and then inched over to me.

  “Are we stopping?”

  “Yes.”

  We held the bars on the door as the truck came to a stop. Troy leaned down, opened the latch, and swung the doors open. Hearing women rousing their children, I jumped to the ground.

  “Wow, you’re tall,” Troy commented as I landed beside him and stood upright, swinging the rifle to my back.

  “Yeah.”

  “Jema.” I heard Nave’s voice above me and looked up to see her reaching out to me.

  “I got you.” I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her to the ground and then helped Mom down. Family by family, Troy and I helped the other passengers out.

  After we’d finished, I walked towards Dad, Troy trailing me.

  “We’ll have to make do.” I heard Dad’s voice as I approached.

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’re hearing some radio communication about our vehicle. They realized we should’ve made it to the po
rt. We’re talking with the camp about a backup plan. There’s a truck a mile down the road. Lieutenant Jenkins will hike to the truck and come back with it. It’d be good to have another body with him.”

  Troy raised his hand beside me. “I’ll go.”

  Dad pointed to the cab. “Can you drive a truck like this?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. We’re going to need you and Jema to take the passengers the rest of the way.”

  He had to be kidding. “You’re leaving us?”

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  “Do you even have anything to make it look like a delivery?”

  “There are some boxes at the far end of the truck. We knew this was a possibility.”

  It would have been nice to know that piece of information. “How far till we intercept the camp representatives?”

  Dad looked at the ground and then back to me. “An hour past the Nevada border.”

  “You’re kidding? You’re asking us—” I motioned between Troy and myself “—to get all these people to Nevada? How far is that?”

  Troy puffed out his chest. “I can do it.” I fought rolling my eyes. Of course the jock star would act all tough guy. I wondered if he felt like I did about the trip. He couldn’t be happy about leaving his first-string quarterback position behind. I knew I wouldn’t be.

  Dad put his hands to his hips. “I’m not asking. I’m telling. These people are all military. They aren’t helpless. This is important. Maybe life or death for some. The truck isn’t any harder to drive than my pickup. You and Troy can take turns driving.”

  I looked at the brightening sky. Through the dense trees, I could see only speckles of pink as the rising sun tinted the clouds. Wanting to scream at the universe, I swallowed hard.

  “Okay, sounds like a plan.”

  Dad blinked and refocused on Troy and Lieutenant Jenkins. “I just sent you the coordinates. It shouldn’t take more than twenty minutes to get there and back.”

  “We’ll take some gas and tools just in case. Let’s go.” Lieutenant Jenkins tapped Troy on the chest, and they jogged to the trailer.

  Dad spoke into my ear. “You know this is important, or I wouldn’t be asking.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “Okay, I’m going to round everyone up and make an announcement. Why don’t you join me?” He walked towards the back of the truck. Before we reached the group, he spun around to face me. “They don’t need to know you’re fifteen.”

  I nodded. “I’m almost sixteen. But agreed.”

  Several of the moms were exiting the tree cover with children following close behind. Dad whistled loudly and called for everyone to gather around. Once the group convened, he explained the situation, plan, and took questions. I scanned the furrowed brows and glassy-eyed stares, looking for some sense of encouragement.

  “Why should we trust you and these kids?”

  “This is a well-thought-out plan. We expected bumps, and this was one of them. Admiral Masterson’s son Troy is very capable, and I’ve trained Jema myself.”

  I arched my shoulders to appear taller.

  “What if there are further problems?”

  “You’ll have communication with the Nevada camp. They can send help, or we will from the base.”

  Dad fielded questions and collected all our identification tags. “Stow these in the cab under the seats. Make sure you get Troy’s.” As I walked to the front of the truck, I heard the faint sound of an engine in the distance and got Dad’s attention.

  I stowed the satchel under the passenger’s seat, and we instructed everyone to hide in the trees. He held out his GPS. “Communicate with the camp using this. They will tell you when to move and when to stop. Do exactly as they say.”

  “Got it. I can’t believe you’re leaving us.”

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “I know you can do this.”

  “Okay.” I nodded just as a truck rounded the corner. As they pulled to a stop, I could see Troy in the driver’s seat. I hoped he was comfortable on the narrow curved roads. I could drive, but I’d rather not over the mountain passes.

  The group assembled around the truck. Dad, Troy, Lieutenant Jenkins, and I inspected it. Finding no problems, we loaded an extra tire from Dad’s vehicle in the back. Dad clicked on the radio to communicate with the cave contact.

  “This is Lieutenant Walker. We have Troy Masterson and Jema Walker taking over as escorts.”

  He handed the radio to me. “This is Jema,” I said into the speaker and then handed the device to Troy.

  “This is Troy.”

  “Mr. Masterson, Ms. Walker, we want you to move in five minutes. Set your alarms.”

  “Got it.” Troy clicked off the radio and slid it in his pocket.

  “We leave in five minutes,” he announced to the crowd.

  Lacey approached our group. “I can be point in the back.”

  “Thanks, Mom, I was just about to come get you.” He lifted a handgun out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  She checked it, slid it in her belt, and covered it with her jacket. Troy checked his watch. “Three minutes.”

  My heart raced. “I’ll get the back.”

  Finding everyone inside, I handed Mom a walkie-talkie and shut the doors. Dad met me beside the cab.

  “You got everything? You good?”

  A flare of anger boiled to the surface, but I held my tongue. I still wasn’t clear on why we were leaving, but there was nowhere to go but forward.

  “Yeah, Dad.”

  “Good. I love you. Take care of your mom and Nave.”

  “I will.”

  “I know.” He pulled me into a hug, and I wriggled away.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll cover the time.”

  “Only use this radio to speak to me.” He held his matching device up.

  “Got it.” He opened the passenger’s door for me.

  “Get that ID tag off.” Dad pointed at Troy. “Good luck.”

  Troy lifted his necklace over his head and held it out to me. Packing it with the others, I buckled my seatbelt. As soon as Dad closed my door, Troy started the engine.

  “Okay.” Dad slapped the hood and walked towards their truck. I’d never hated seeing the back of his head so much.

  Troy’s alarm sounded, and he put the vehicle in gear, making a wide turn to head south. I watched in the rearview mirror as Dad and Lieutenant Jenkins climbed in the cab of their vehicle and drove away. This can’t be happening, I thought. My brain created quite an elaborate dream. The fact that I’m sitting beside Troy Masterson, star of the football team, proves it.

  “So, I did not see this coming when I went to bed last night,” he said.

  Peering at him, I tried to find words to respond. He glanced my way for a second and then back to the road.

  “That is an understatement.” I guessed I would find out what type of teammate Troy was. Was he the one-man-show type of star or a team player?

  “We should divide the duties. You talk.” He lifted the radio from the seat beside him and held it in the air. “I’ll drive. We can switch as we get tired.”

  Just then, the radio buzzed. I took it from his hand and clicked the button. “This is Jema.”

  “You need to be off the road under cover by oh-seven hundred. You’ll have thirty-seven minutes before you can proceed again.”

  “Got it.” I looked at my watch and set my alarm for quarter till seven. Placing the radio in the seat beside me, I began assessing the cab’s features. Realizing all the installed communication electronics had been disabled, I opened the glove box. It held a flashlight, matches, instruction manual, and first aid kit.

  Troy’s movement caught my eye. He leaned forward in his seat, slid his pistol out of its holster, and placed the weapon on the seat between us. “You can probably take your rifle off your back now.”

  I hadn’t even leaned back in the seat yet. “Yeah.” I lifted it over my shoulder and placed it on the wide dash in front of
me. Scanning the tree cover, I noticed the black beginning to give way to crystal blue. Around the next bend, the road cut west, so we hugged the coast. Looking out to the sea and south to the trees in the distance, I prayed for a clear horizon till we made it to them. My leg bounced, and I smoothed my hands down my pants to stop the movement.

  “You afraid of heights.”

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes on the road.

  “Water?”

  “No.”

  “No? Is that all you’re going to say? We have a long drive, and I didn’t even want to be here, much less be responsible for all these people.”

  I cut my eyes to him and then back to the road. I wasn’t social like my friends. Mom always said I took after Dad. Raking a strand of hair behind my ear, I looked at him. “I’m not scared of heights.”

  “Okay. Well that’s something. So, what do you do when you’re not being shipped to the desert?”

  “Dance, mostly ballet. They give scholarships for ballet.”

  “Yeah? Cool. I play football and baseball.”

  “I know.” I rolled my eyes to the roof of the vehicle.

  His eyes cut to me and then back to the windshield. “How do you know who I am?”

  “We go to the same school. I have a couple friends on the cheer squad, so I go to the games.”

  “Why don’t I know you?”

  I looked at the sea and tucked my hair behind my ear on the other side. “I was a freshman last year.” Plus, no one notices me. Not that I mind much, I thought, but I didn’t say it.

  “No way. How old are you?”

  “I’ll be sixteen in two weeks.” I scanned the sky again.

  “You’re so tall. I figured you were like a senior. What are you looking at?” He leaned forward and looked up.

  “Watch the road. I’ll watch the sky.”

  I GUESSED SHE was worried about planes. Glancing over the cliff and to the sea below, I tried not to think about the narrow road. The asphalt seemed well maintained, and I figured it was still used to travel to the southern bases. They’d pulled most of the staff from them in the past several years, but I knew from Dad that a skeleton team remained at each. Realizing my knuckles were almost white, I wiggled my fingers on the steering wheel.