Yes, this is Storyteller again.
I wrote more on my story yesterday, so I decided I might as well post it. Willow, Hadassah, Madeline--great stories, guys!! (the rest of you guys have awesome stories, too, I was just mention those because they just recently posted) =D
OK, story time!
Old Man to the Rescue!
“Guys!” yelled Sam. “Over here!”
The dark brown haired boy jogged up. “What is it? Did you see them?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “I can smell it.”
“Smell what?” snorted the surfer dude.
I nearly gulped but stopped myself—I couldn’t make any noise. Logan seemed petrified beside me. I had to think of something, and I had to think of something really fast.
“They’re close,” continued Sam.
I tried to recall some defense moves that Dad had taught me, and the limited karate that Mom had taught me, but couldn’t think of either. This wasn’t going to be good.
“Come on,” urged Sam. “Let’s split up and find them. They can’t be far. Whoever finds them alerts the others and we’ll take them on together. Hunter, go towards the right. Calvin—you can take the left. OK, let’s split!” the boys took off running.
“Let’s go, let’s go,” I urged, tugging on Logan’s arm.
As far as I could see, the boys had left to go investigate other corners of the school and we needed to get out of there. The Zodiac Public Park across the way from the school seemed like the perfect choice. There was plenty of places to hide there.
“No!” hissed Logan.
“Ah-ha!” shrieked Sam, grabbing Logan’s arm.
“Hiya!” I yelled, suddenly remembering one of Mom’s karate kicks and kicking him right in the stomach.
He groaned and crumpled. I grabbed Logan’s arm and sped off towards the park. Logan was shrieking and whooping at the same time. I was just trying to focus on not falling and getting captured.
“Come back!” yelled one of Sam’s goons from Sam’s side. “Come back and face us like men!”
“She’s a girl!” Logan shouted over his shoulder. “And I’m a boy! Sorry, losers!” he chuckled. Not a good idea, Logan.
“That’s it!” shouted the surfer dude.
The ground literally pounded as they zoomed off after us. It was scary how fast they were. I knew I could go faster, but Logan was trailing behind.
“Keep up, Logan!” I hissed. “They’re going to catch us! Hurry! This isn’t a game, this is life-or-get-beaten-up!”
“I’m trying!” cried Logan.
I pulled him behind a tree as Brownie—what I’d decided to call the brown-haired boy—tried a swipe at him. I rushed us underneath the side just before Surfer—the surfer dude—jumped on Logan.
“I’m going to die!” shrieked Logan.
“Hush up and run!” I commanded.
I lost them behind in the maze of bushes and pulled Logan to a stop behind one of the trees, scrabbling for the branches and pulling myself up. Logan followed, panting heavily.
“Quiet,” I warned. “They’re still close by.”
We waited silently. I could hear Brownie and Surfer looking frantically for us through the maze of bushes and trees that went throughout the park.
“They’re not here,” Surfer came up with.
Brownie grunted. “Come on. We’ve got to report back to Sam.” As if we were in some kind of magic movie and we were like orcs and they were tracking us. Thanks, Aragorn and Legolas.
That’s when it struck me—Sam—Samwise Gamgee. Brownie has brown hair like Aragorn. And Surfer has blonde hair like Legolas. Man, this really does make me feel like an orc!
“Come on,” urged Logan in a whisper. “I think it’s safe. Your Mom’s probably in the parking lot by now.”
I didn’t want to get out of the safety of the tall tree, but Logan had already jumped from the branches. I sighed and jumped off, too, landing shakily on my feet.
“Come on,” urged Logan.
“Gotcha!” cried Aragorn. (Hey, I couldn’t help but think of him as him.)
“Quick!” Logan yelled. “Jessie! Do your hiya thing again!”
“Not so quickly,” snorted Legolas, grabbing me. “You guys can’t escape about the stunt you pulled!”
“I didn’t do anything!” tried Logan. Thanks, Logan. We’re real best friends. Not.
“You’re her friend. It’s your fault.” Aragorn yanked his head towards the waiting Sam by the school. “Come on. Let’s go.”
That’s when the weirdest thing happened.
There wasn’t any time to think about what happened. It was so sudden. An old man just stepped out from behind one of the trees and hit both of them. They dropped without a sound.
“Quickly,” he whispered. “Follow me.”
He took off military style through the trees, going on his stomach and army crawling all the way towards where a beat up old Ford truck was sitting, rust taking over the blue coloring.
“Where are you going to take us?” Logan asked nervously. Then he frowned. “Hey, you’re that guy who runs the Sinclair in Rain Heights. Jake, right?”
“Not now, Logan,” whispered Jake. “Kids, meet Harry Ford. Hop in—this is going to be a ride to remember.”