14
Sage
The van doors flung open.
Before I could even gulp in a breath of fresh air, Greasy Hair was barking at us in a cranky, impatient voice. “ Get out! Single file. Move ,” he demanded, even though he’d barely opened the door half a second earlier.
I could tell it was him, even with his face all squished by the pantyhose again. The other man, who I ’ d decided to call Jeepers in my head, held up a gun. He really did look like the thing from Jeepers Creepers with the particular way his face smashed flat under the sand-colored pantyhose.
I didn ’ t let myself glance at the side window of the van where I ’ d spied on Greasy Hair earlier. With the light coming in through the open doors, it wouldn ’ t be too noticeable. At least, that ’ s what I hoped.
Don ’ t look at the hole I made in the paint, I told him with my mind, like I was a Jedi from Star Wars. And, like a weak-minded Storm Trooper, he obeyed.
The temperature outside was cooler than the boiling van, and I swallowed air like I ’ d been suffocating. I wanted so bad to be able to wipe the sweat dripping down my neck, into the collar of my shirt and down my back. I was so hot and thirsty.
“ No, not you,” Greasy Hair snapped when Ms. Jessa shifted at the back of the van and tried to get up. “ You ’ re last, bus driver.”
Ms. Jessa froze the second he spoke to her.
I darted my eyes around, seeing more of the same alien landscape I ’ d glimpsed through the pinhole in the window paint. Dirt, broken machine parts, heaps of junk, jagged cement, rocks. The cliff wall rose up so high, it looked like we were at the bottom of the earth. The white shuttle van was parked a few feet behind us.
Jeepers stood beside it, crouched a little, like he thought we might run the second Greasy Hair opened the van doors, and he was gonna catch us. Or shoot us.
Greasy Hair cleared his throat and took a step back from the van. His smashed-up expression beneath the murky pantyhose didn ’ t change, but I knew he was disgusted from the tone of his voice. “ God, it stinks in there,” he called to Jeepers, putting his hand in front of his face. “ We were driving for what, an hour? Guess the babies needed diapers.” He laughed, like he ’ d made a really funny joke.
Jeepers grunted but didn ’ t laugh.
I leaned closer to Bonnie and whispered as quiet as I could, “ We ’ re not babies. They ’ re … buttheads.”
“ Shut up, no talking,” Greasy Hair snapped, but I felt Bonnie ’ s body relax a little against me. Mom never let us say the word “ butthead,” but I just knew she ’ d be okay with it right now.
The thought of her and Grandpa made me want to cry again.
Take care of your sister.
I blinked back the tears and snuck a look at Ms. Jessa. She had her head ducked, staring at the floor of the van like she wasn ’ t even here.
“ You, let ’ s go,” Jeepers piped up in a weird, too-deep voice, stepping forward so he was next to Greasy Hair and pointing at Ked. “ Line up right over there.” He flicked the gun he held, pointing at somewhere past the van. Once again, I got the feeling Jeepers was trying to disguise his voice, but it still pinged somewhere in my memory.
I couldn ’ t decide if that idea made me more or less scared.
Ked hesitated, then scooted closer to the edge of the van.
“ He said let ’ s go. ” Greasy Hair grabbed him by the arm and dragged him the last few inches on the van floor. Ked yelped, his brown eyes huge and his brown hair slicked to his head with sweat. When his feet hit the dirt, he hurried alongside Jeepers, who led him away from the van.
Rose, then Crosby, then Mindy scooted off the edge to follow Ked and Jeepers, while Greasy Hair dragged more kids out of the van and pointed them somewhere past the white shuttle.
Once the kids moved beyond the van ’ s open doors, I couldn ’ t see them anymore. But after a few seconds, I heard Ked, then other kids, gasp—like whatever they saw over there was even scarier than the two guys with guns.
My stomach hurt like I was going to throw up, and my legs burned, sticky where I ’ d peed my pants.
“ Move, move, move,” Greasy Hair kept barking, rushing us faster and faster even though it wasn ’ t easy to scoot along the van floor with our hands tied.
Before I knew it, I was the one swinging my legs until I hit the dirt, Bonnie right behind me. She was breathing fast the way she did when Mom dropped her off for the first day of kindergarten.
So was I.
Bonnie, then Ava, then Ben, scooted off the back of the van close behind me like scared ducklings following the leader.
“ Move, ” Greasy Hair told me, like it was the only word he knew.
I stared back at him defiantly, thinking of Ms. Jessa with her head bowed behind me.
Even without being able to see the whites of his eyes, I knew he was staring right at me.
He didn ’ t know I ’ d scratched the paint in the window.
He couldn ’ t read my mind. He couldn ’ t make me duck my head—give up—like Ms. Jessa. And I wouldn ’ t let him make any of us feel bad for wetting our pants.
A little fizzle of courage popped like soda bubbles through the sloshing fear in my stomach.
It lasted until I walked around the van toward Jeepers and the rest of the kids.
I could now understand why Ked had gasped.
He was at the front of the line of kids, standing at the edge of a big hole in the dirt, next to a giant yellow sheet of metal.
The hole in the ground looked like a mouth, waiting to swallow all of us kids.
The top part of a ladder poked out of the hole. Jeepers was standing next to it, holding a pair of scissors in his hand.
He was cutting Ked ’ s ties.
All my courage-bubbles popped, and I knew that if I hadn ’ t already peed my pants on the van ride here, I ’ d have done it now from pure terror.
They were cutting our hands free so we could climb down the ladder.
They were sending us all into that hole.
Bonnie ’ s breathing went from fast to lightning-speed, like she was an out-of-control wind-up toy that ’ d been twisted too far.
The other kids, who had realized what was about to happen too, were starting to panic right along with her.
When Jeepers cut Mindy ’ s ties, she drew in a gasp of air and suddenly darted forward so fast I barely realized what was happening.
She was making a run for it.
Some of the other kids gasped, and I could feel them wondering if we should all try to run. My legs tensed, even though my hands were still tied.
Then, with two quick strides, before anyone else could move, Jeepers caught Mindy by the shirt.
She landed hard on her arm in the dirt in a way that made my own arm hurt, then she started to cry.
Jeepers stared at her, breathing hard, then turned to look at the rest of us. “ Don ’ t do that,” he growled angrily.
My eyes moved to Greasy Hair, a few feet away, who hadn ’ t even bothered to move. His gun was still pointed at the open van doors, at Ms. Jessa. He burst out laughing over the sound of Mindy ’ s crying. “ It ’ s like they want me to shoot their bus driver,” he called over. “ When you get your hands free, you stay quiet, you go down the ladder fast . Got it? And I don ’ t wanna hear any more bitching or crying,” he added loudly.
He cocked the gun, like we needed any more reason to be afraid.
I craned my neck, trying to get a glimpse of Ms. Jessa. She wasn ’ t the grownup I would ’ ve chosen if I had my pick, but I still wanted to see her, to know she was here with us.
Greasy Hair tilted his head. I still couldn ’ t see his eyes, but I just knew those dark sockets behind the pantyhose had landed on me. “ And if that doesn ’ t light a fire under your asses, we ’ ll pick off the oldest kids first.”