Disaster Productions

  Duals and Dylan get out of the water to join us. They both wear stylish trunks. Myself, I look impressive in my undersized suit with the little-kid racecars on it.

  “Okay, let’s finalize our plan of action,” Duals says.

  “Tell you what,” Dylan says, “this isn’t really my thing. I don’t believe I can add much, so I’ll just agree in advance with anything you decide, okay?”

  “Fine,” Duals says.

  “Okay, Tamika?” Duals says.

  “Sure Dylan, whatever you say.” Tamika adds a little air kiss at the end of her statement.

  Dylan dives into the pool, sending a cold spray over me. Then he starts pounding out laps in the roped-off lane. You’d have to say that he’s a strong swimmer. He has a nice tan, too. He’s probably been hanging out here for weeks with Tamika.

  “Then we’re all agreed with the plan we discussed earlier?” Duals asks.

  “Wait a minute, what plan?” I say. “Why don’t we just call the cops? I mean, we must have a receipt for the camera, a credit card record with Grandpa’s name on it. Nobody else does.”

  “There are problems with that approach,” Duals says.

  “More problems?” I say.

  “Here’s the thing,” Duals says. “We don’t know exactly who has the camera, it could be any one of several guys. Rex was pretty wasted when he lost the poker game.”

  “I can believe that,” I say.

  “So, we have to smoke the camera out where can get at it,” Duals says.

  “Good thinking, Stephan,” Kaitlyn says.

  Duals nods, obviously pleased with himself. It must be nice to have your own one-girl cheering squad.

  “Besides,” Duals adds, “if these guys find out that Rex tipped us off, they might kick his butt.”

  “What’s the problem with that?” I say.

  “Come on, man, he’s my cousin!”

  “Yeah, I know all about cousins,” I say.

  Dylan has exited the water at the far end of the pool and is shaking himself off. Tamika is looking out toward him with this sort of faraway look in her eyes, like he’s some movie star.

  “There’s a party Friday night,” Duals says, “odds are the camera will be on hand to record the fun. It’s just a matter of grabbing it.”

  “How do we know the camera will even be there?” I say.

  “An educated guess,” Duals says. “Rex originally borrowed it to film another party. That’s where he lost the poker game.”

  “So, it’s already been at one party,” I say. “How do we know some drunk hasn’t puked all over it?”

  “Let’s hope that didn’t happen,” Kaitlyn says.

  This whole thing is getting worse and worse. Like some nightmare you can’t wake up from. I feel this desire to turn violent, but what good would that do?

  “Let me guess,” I say, “Rex will somehow not be at this party Friday night.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Duals says. “He had to get back up to school for ... something.”

  “So, we just walk into this college crowd and take back the camera?” I say.

  “That’s where I come in,” Tamika says.

  “You?” I say.

  “Don’t worry, I can handle it,” she says. “You don’t have any idea how much talent I’ve got.”

  Before she can say more about her talents, Dylan yells out from the high diving board:

  “Hey, watch this everybody!”

  He’s bouncing on the board, gaining height. Tamika runs off toward him, followed by Kaitlyn. Duals fires up his cell phone camera.

  “I feel something big coming on,” he says.

  Dylan launches himself upwards a surprising distance. Then he folds himself into a jackknife, then opens again ...

  He hits the water in a spectacular belly flop that is almost nuclear. Mini tidal waves wash over the pool edges. The life guard jumps down from his perch to investigate.

  “Look at all that drama!” Duals cries. “And we’ve only got is this lousy cell phone video.”

  Something green and horrible drops from the tree onto my chest.

  “Ah!”

  I bat it away – a huge praying mantis bug. It lands on the chair arm where it stares up at me through bulgy eyes in an alien, triangular head.

  “Gross!”

  I scramble to my feet. Duals aims his cell phone camera my direction.

  “Can you run through that again, Matt?”

  “No way!”

  The mantis creeps along the chair arm back toward the greenery. It stretches out its body an incredible length and reaches its ‘arms’ into the leaves. It pulls itself back into concealment. I move my chair away.

  Out on the pool deck, Dylan lies recovering from his bell flop. Tamika and Kaitlyn stand in mid pool, bouncing on their toes and conversing. Later, Tamika does some laps. She’s a good swimmer, too.

  Is there anything she’s not good at?

  24: Preparing the Raid

  So, we have some time before Friday to develop our rescue plan. Why do lousy things always happen on Fridays? Those awful nightmares, the fight with Jesse, and now this. Of course, the skating disaster happened on a Wednesday, but “the exception proves the rule,” as I’ve heard.

  Rex has provided the address of the party house. It belongs to one of his college buddy’s parents who are conveniently away for a few weeks. They’re trusting their son to take care of the place in their absence. Right. Fortunately, it’s within bike range of Grandpa’s house, so we have a base of operations.

  Duals and I ride out to the party house Wednesday afternoon to discreetly case the joint. It’s a large, two-story house with white wooden siding. In back is a spacious yard containing two big trees, one smaller tree, a garage, and an above-ground swimming pool.

  This is an older neighborhood; all the houses are big with spacious yards and towering old trees. An alley runs behind the party house. The garage opens into it, and a little gate in the fence provides access to the back yard.

  “I like this,” Duals says. “There’s an ideal escape route – out the back and down the alley.”

  “Yeah, it’s great,” I say.

  Back at Grandpa’s house, I try to press Duals for more details about “Operation Rescue,” as he calls it.

  “Hey, this is on me,” Duals says. “I got you into this mess and I’ll get you out.”

  “That’s big of you,” I say.

  “It’s really just a two man operation,” Duals says, “plus Tamika, of course. So Dylan and I can handle it.”

  “You’re going to bring Dylan in on this?”

  “Well ... yeah,” Duals say.

  “He’ll wreck everything!”

  “Possibly,” Duals says, “but who else is available? He did volunteer, you know.”

  “Forget it,” I say. “I’m going along on this mission.”

  Duals strokes his chin, as if he is recalculating all the world’s difficulties.

  “Well, okay,” he finally says, “if you feel that strong about it.”

  “I do. And not another word about Dylan, okay?”

  “Sure, Matt.”

  It’s not until I get home that I suspect things might not be what they appear on the surface. Had Duals played the Dylan card in order to get me involved? It sounds possible, but that doesn’t change the facts on the ground. There is no way I can remain on the sidelines.

  And there’s no way Disaster Dylan will play a part in this.

  ***

  Friday night, I meet Duals and Tamika at Grandpa’s house. I don’t know how she did it, but with her hair, makeup, and clothes, Tamika has made herself look a lot older. Maybe she really is a natural-born actress.

  My cover story is that I’m staying overnight at Duals’ house. His cover story is that he’s staying at my place. I don’t know what Tamika’s story is. I feel pretty shabby telling such a blatant lie, but what else can I do?

  My parents trust me so much that it’s unlikely they’ll call Du
als’ house to verify. For his part, Duals has a similar scam going. We’ve been hanging out together for so long that nobody can imagine we’d go off the rails like this.

  What would Mom and Dad think of me if they knew the truth? What would Grandpa think?

  He’d probably think it was cool.

  Anyway, it’s too late to opt out, so we got moving. Tamika rides on the back of Duals’ bike, standing on the foot supports. Her hands are on Duals’ shoulders, and a leather bag is slung over her own shoulder.

  “I’ve arranged for a ride back,” she tells us, “so don’t wait around for me.”

  I don’t necessarily like the tone of that. It’s as if she doesn’t expect me and Duals to survive. Even so, wouldn’t it be nice to have her riding on the back of my bike, her hands on my shoulders and her dark hair flowing in the wind?

  I ride on ahead along the residential streets, my handlebar light throwing a little spot on the pavement. It occurs to me that I know almost nothing of tonight’s “plan of attack,” as Duals calls it. Once I laid down the law about Dylan, I sort of let Duals worry about the details.

  So here I am again, letting somebody else take charge. No matter how much I try, somebody else is always calling the shots. Well, things are finally going to change, and soon. If I survive tonight.

  I already have something of a Plan B. I’ve brought the packing slip and hard copy receipt for the camera with Grandpa’s name and address on them. If the worst happens, if I’m caught trying to ‘steal’ back my own property, I’ll 911 the police and throw myself on their mercy.

  This would mean Mom and Dad finding out everything. It would mean further disappointment for Grandpa. I’d probably be grounded until high school graduation.

  But desperate times call for desperate measures, as I’ve read someplace.

  25: Operation Rescue

  We arrive in the alley and conceal our bikes behind some scrub bushes two doors down from the party house. Tamika walks on alone toward the gate while Duals and I creep along behind. Duals carries the leather bag now.

  “The big trees are our base,” Duals says. “When we get in the yard, hide yourself behind the first one.”

  “Then what?” I say.

  “Just stay there out of sight,” Duals says. “Be ready to help me if I need it, and always be prepared for a quick getaway.”

  Well, all right, I can do that.

  We slip through the gate into the back yard. I move to the first big tree and take a position behind it. Duals moves to the other tree nearby and does the same.

  Behind us is empty lawn and then a wood fence. Ahead is the main yard with the garage and above-ground pool. Strung lights illuminate the main area, but me and Duals are pretty much off in the shadows.

  The only problem is the gate. If somebody comes through, they can see me, unless I maneuver myself around the tree – but that would expose me to view from the main yard. I’ll have to keep a sharp lookout.

  A small group is standing around the pool drinking. Tamika is socializing with them now. A large keg of beer stands on a picnic table, along with various munchies. The main party seems to be going on in the house, judging by the crowd chatter and the music noise coming through the back sliding glass door.

  Duals looks my direction and flashes me a questioning thumbs up. I return the gesture. Then I look off toward the gate, measuring the steps to it, then the steps to my bike. I’m really not cut out for this secret agent stuff – but I have to admit it is kind of exciting.

  Tamika is doing well with the older crowd and has already drawn a circle of guys around herself. Her high-pitched laughter drifts across the lawn, followed by the lower tones of the guys – who are starting to sound a bit drunk. Duals flashes another thumbs up.

  Then Tamika is walking toward the house with one of the guys. The music got louder when they slide open the back door, then quiets down again as they go inside. I look toward Duals.

  “Now what?” I pantomime.

  Duals shrugs.

  A half hour, at least, drags past. I don’t know for sure because I have no watch and don’t dare flash my cell phone to check the time. More people are coming into the back yard from the house. Some of them are smoking weed.

  So Rex’s buddy must be enforcing a ‘no smoking’ policy inside. Very considerate.

  People start jumping into the pool – some in swimsuits, some fully clothed, others stripped to their underwear. This is a real class crowd. Then Tamika comes out of the house amid a large group. She’s holding hands with some college dude ...

  In his other hand he’s carrying my beautiful camera!

  Duals raises both fists in a silent cheer. I’m glad to see the camera, too, but I also feel a deep sense of outrage and injustice. I mean, there’s my property being used by some stranger without my permission. I should be able to simply demand it back. Instead, I’m lurking behind a tree like some petty criminal trespassing on somebody’s property.

  Well, I don’t know about that trespassing part. Judging by the level of people here, it seems like anybody can get into this party. Some idiot places a ladder against the garage and climbs onto the roof.

  “Get the hell out of my way, everybody!” he shouts.

  People scatter out of the pool. Then the idiot jumps off the roof, cannon ball style. A huge splash. The crowd cheers. The college dude films away with my camera, saving the glorious moment for posterity.

  More people come out of the house now. The party’s center of gravity is switching to the yard. Somebody leaves the door open and music blasts into the night air. More idiots jump off the garage roof. Somebody throws the beer keg into the water. People are dancing in a tight-packed group, and ...

  Tamika is holding my camera now! The college dude is showing her how to use it.

  I detect a brief flash from Duals’ hiding place. He’s calling somebody on his cell. Then the gate to the alley creaks open and a small group of girls walks in. I’m caught in plain view!

  Most of them just give me a quick glance and move on, but one of the girls stops.

  “You’re kinda young to be here, aren’t you?” she says.

  “Uh ... actually, I’m older than I look,” I say.

  “Oh?”

  I glance desperately toward Duals’ tree – he isn’t there! I look back toward the girl. She’s standing very close to me now, she has spiky black hair and a bunch of piercings in her nose and ears. One in her eyebrow, too.

  “Yeah, it’s virtuous living that keeps me fresh,” I say.

  “Fresh? I like that!”

  The girl laughs, the scent of some incredible perfume she’s wearing washes over me.

  “You’re all right for a ‘fresh’ little boy,” she says. “How’s the party?”

  “Oh, it’s interesting,” I say.

  She pull out a pack of cigarettes.

  “I’m supposed to meet somebody here, but I’ve got time for a little chat,” she says.

  She offers me a cigarette.

  “No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

  I try to back away, but the tree stops me. The girl finds this to be amusing. She lights a cigarette and blows out a smoke cloud. Then she fixes me with this devastating look. I grope for a conversation topic.

  “I really like your piercings,” I say.

  “Oh? How about this one?”

  She curls out her tongue to reveal a metal stud punched through it.

  “That’s very, er, nice,” I say.

  “Do you know what it’s for?” she asks.

  “I ... well ...”

  “Maybe it’s time you found out.”

  She’s on me, pinning me against the tree. Her mouth presses hard against mine. I can’t believe what’s happening ...

  Loud explosions and bright flashes shake the night. For a second I think it’s all in my mind, but the girl pulls away and my personal fireworks stop.

  “Cool!” she cries.

  She runs to join the screaming, shouting mob. Bl
ack powder smoke wafts toward me across the lawn. Duals comes running out of it with my camera.

  “Let’s go!”

  He shoves the camera into the leather bag. More lights flash – from police cars in front of the house this time. Police are in the yard, someone is shouting through a bullhorn. We run through the gate into the alley.

  “Hey, where’re you going?” somebody yells.

  I catch sight of a guy throwing something. A can arches through the air streaming beer and lands nearby. We are at the bikes now. Another loaded beer can strikes me in the back.

  “Ow!”

  “Come on!” Duals shouts.

  We are barreling down the alley, with two guys right behind us. Then out into the street. Duals swerves to avoid a car. I cut the opposite direction, right into the path of another car. I veer out of the way, missing the fender by inches. Brakes squeal. A thud.

  One of the guys chasing us is sprawled on the hood of a car. The other guy is helping him off. The driver gets out and begins shouting. Everyone is yelling and swearing, but we are already pulling away fast.

  We race down a side street, then cut down an alley, then down more side streets until we reach a dead end by a creek. We fling our bikes on our shoulders and scramble down the steep bank to the water. We collapse in the weeds, out of breath.

  “Oh man,” Duals gasps, “talk about perfect timing!”

  “Were you the one who called the cops?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I phoned in a noise complaint, then I supplied the fireworks noise! That guy with the camera never knew what happened.”

  My breath is coming back under control, and the adrenaline rush eases a little. A whole lifetime has passed in minutes – the girl, the explosions, the cops – I dare not think about the near collision with the car. I can think about that later, when my heart is back in my chest.

  “Is the camera okay?” I ask.

  Duals pulls the camera from the bag and flicks it on. The monitor on its back throws a cheery glow.

  “Seems like it.” Duals examines the lens front. “Ah, they left on a UV filter, excellent.”

  We cross the water and scramble up the opposite bank to the street. As we ride along toward Grandpa’s house, a big car slows down and flicks on its interior lights. Tamika waves to us from the passenger seat. The girl with spiky hair is driving.

  “Catch you later, Freshie!” she yells.

  With a screech of tires, the car is gone.