Back Before Dark
Authors: Tim Shoemaker
A Code of Silence Novel
BEFORE
DARK
Tim Shoemaker
Dedicated to all those who know me as “Uncle Tim” …
Authors often create characters that reflect bits and pieces
of people they already know. You’ll find yourselves
in almost everything I write.
“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life
for one’s friends.”
The Bible, John 15:13
“Sometimes calling people out of the darkness means going
in after them.”
N. Paul Williams
C
ooper couldn’t get home late. Not this time. Even at fourteen he wasn’t too old to get grounded—a little fact he’d been reminded of before he went out with his friends. His legs felt like concrete, but he kept pedaling.
His cousin Gordy didn’t act at all tired riding next to him. Gordy raised his chin and seemed to be enjoying the wind blowing his nearly white blonde hair back around the edges of his helmet. Cooper, on the other hand, could feel the sweat looking for an escape route through his maze of curls.
They crossed Kirchoff Road and rode the sidewalk in front of the Jewel Osco grocery store. Frank’n Stein’s Diner sign flicked on down the block, beckoning to him, “Come in.”
“I’m starving,” Gordy said.
“You just had dinner,” Hiro shouted from behind them. She sounded out of breath.
“Having troubles keeping up, Hiro?” Gordy grinned. “And for the record, we ate over an hour ago. I’ve burned it off.” He pointed at Frank’n Stein’s. “How about it, Coop. Monster shake? Fries? You in?”
Cooper checked the sky. The sun was down, but they had a little time before it was fully dark. Just not
enough
time. “We’ll both get brain freeze if we have to gulp it down that quick.”
Gordy nodded. “Tomorrow. Right after school.”
“Coop,” Hiro called. “Slow up a little.”
Cooper coasted, and Gordy shot ahead.
Hiro pedaled up alongside, taking Gordy’s place. Her long black braid bucked down the middle of her back like it was trying to break free. “This was a stupid idea.”
“Biking to Walmart or promising we’d be back before dark?”
Hiro managed a weak smile. “Both. We’ve
got
to take a break. Five minutes.”
They were close enough to home now. Cooper worked his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.
“Besides, we’re losing Lunk again,” Hiro said.
Cooper checked over his shoulder. Lunk had fallen behind, just like he had in school. Which is why he was still in eighth grade with the rest of them instead of in high school where he belonged. Then again, Lunk didn’t really belong anywhere, although he was trying hard with Cooper, Gordy, and Hiro.
And Cooper tried to make him feel accepted. But leaving him in the dust wouldn’t exactly help.
“I don’t know why Lunk doesn’t get a bigger bike,” Hiro said.
Lunk hadn’t crossed the street yet, even though he was pedaling his BMX like crazy. Lunk stood a full head taller than Cooper yet rode the smallest bike. He even had some height on Gordy—and definitely some weight over him too. He’d clearly outgrown the bike years before. But Lunk couldn’t afford a new one. Not that he ever complained. Cooper wouldn’t mind swapping bikes with him in exchange for a few inches of height.
If only it were that easy.
Anyway, Hiro was right. “Gordy,” he said. “Let’s stop at Kimball Hill Park.”
Gordy gave a thumbs up, cut through the parking lot behind the Dunkin’ Donuts, and stopped on the grass just past the park entrance. Cooper and Hiro followed a short distance behind him.
Cooper hit the brakes, skidded to a stop, and got off.
“Listen, Gordy.” Hiro stopped and swung her leg over the seat, moaning slightly. “Next time you want us to join you for a little run to Walmart—my answer is no. Not unless we’ve got more time.”
Gordy snickered. “Your short legs tired?”
“Not too tired to kick you if you make another crack about my height.”
“Height?” Gordy looked confused. “What height?”
Cooper clapped him on the back. “You’re living on the edge, Cousin.”
Hiro smiled and poked her finger at him. “You will
pay
for that, Gordon Digby. As soon as my legs stop cramping, you’re in for a little Hiro-schmeero.” She karate-chopped the air.
Gordy took a step closer as if daring her try.
Lunk wheeled up and fishtailed to a stop. Sweat trickled down his forehead and around his flushed cheeks. Dark strands of hair stuck to his forehead and partially blocked his vision. “Taking a break?” He stood there, chest heaving, looking ready to collapse.
“Gordy needed a rest,” Hiro said. “We got tired of him whining.”
“Gordy? Tired? Right.” Lunk dropped his bike and lay down flat on his back in the grass.
Exactly what Cooper wanted to do—but if he did, he’d never want to get up. They’d be late for sure.
“Check that out,” Cooper pointed at the silver minivan driving through the parking lot. “There’s a backpack on the roof.”
Hiro and Gordy turned at the same time as if they’d rehearsed it. Lunk reacted a second later, like he was following their lead and still trying to fit into the group. He propped himself up on his elbows.
Hiro stepped around Gordy. “He must have left it up there when he loaded the car.”
Gordy still straddled his bike. “Oops.” He snickered. “What a bozo.”
“And now he’s going to lose it,” Hiro said.
Lunk fanned his sweat-soaked T-shirt. “I give it ten seconds. Nine. Eight.”
The minivan crept through the lot bordering the park, like somebody looking for a lost dog.
Hiro turned to them and put her hands on her hips. “Which one of you is going to go tell the guy?”
Lunk groaned. “I’m not climbing back on my bike. Not yet. Besides, no way can I catch him.”
Cooper felt the same way. His legs still burned.
Hiro lifted her bike off the ground. “There’s probably something important in that backpack. Nobody wants to be the hero?”
The van crawled away from them toward the far end of the park—toward the alley between the grocery store and Kimball Hill School. The backpack stayed put.
Hiro looked at Gordy. “I’ll bet you couldn’t catch that van if you tried.”
Cooper laughed. “Don’t fall for it, Gordy. She’s using reverse psychology on you.”
“
Reverse
psychology?” Hiro raised her chin slightly. “I’m using
child
psychology.”
Lunk snickered.
Hiro paused, as if giving one of them a chance to step up. “Hmmmm. A woman’s work is never done.” She swung her leg over her bike seat.
The last thing Cooper wanted to do was climb back on his bike. The ride back from Walmart had been into the wind most of the way. A real killer.
“
I
got it.” Gordy grinned. “I’ll catch him before he passes the loading dock—and we’ll still make it back before dark.” He motioned to Cooper. “How ‘bout it, amigo, wanna join me?”
Cooper judged the distance. He’d have to backtrack to the sidewalk through the park. There was no way—not even on fresh legs. He pictured Gordy chasing the car all the way to the far end of the massive building. He’d be lucky to catch it before it turned onto Meadow Drive. Just the thought of pedaling that hard made his legs ache. “I’m staying right here.”
Gordy put one foot up on a pedal. “If I catch him before he passes the dock, you treat at Frank’n Stein’s. Deal?”
Frank’n Stein’s sounded good. A monster shake and fries would do wonders for his sore legs. Cooper looked at the darkening sky. Too late for a snack run. And it looked like rain again anyway. “We gotta get back.”
“I know, I know. Back before dark. No problemo.” His cousin pulled away. “But you’ll
owe
me. Agreed?”
Cooper laughed. “Okay. I’m in.”
“I’m talking a couple of Chicago hot dogs,” Gordy said over his shoulder.
“Whatever you want—
if
you catch him in time.” Which seemed like a pretty safe bet to Cooper. “Adios, amigo!”
Gordy hunkered down—his legs churning the pedals. He veered off the path and raced across the grass.
“You’re cheating,” Cooper shouted.
Gordy waved. “Shortcut.” He angled off, bouncing across the freshly mown park and picking up speed.
Hiro seemed to be judging the distance herself. She smiled. “I think
somebody
is going to owe Gordy a trip to Frank’n Stein’s.
“I can’t believe the backpack didn’t slide off by now,” Lunk said.
“Maybe it’s up there with Velcro.” Cooper started to laugh, but a quick glimpse at Hiro cut it short.
Still focused on the minivan, Hiro wasn’t smiling anymore. Her eyes narrowed. That look was never good. She had that intuition thing going again.
Spooky.
“Coop,” she said. “Let’s go with him.”
Gordy was halfway to the minivan and gaining easily. He jumped his bike off the curb and tore across the asphalt. Puddles from the storm earlier were everywhere, but Gordy sprayed right through them. His little shortcuts were going to win him those hot dogs.
Nuts.
It was always a mistake to bet Gordy when food was involved.
“He’s got a huge lead on us,” Cooper said.
“Lunk is right. That backpack
should
have fallen off.” Hiro pushed off with one foot and pedaled hard.
This didn’t make sense. But that look on her face …
Cooper grabbed his bike, hobbled a few steps, and mounted on the fly. Gordy was nearly on top of the vehicle now, franticly waving the guy down with one hand.
Legs feeling the fresh burn, Cooper stood on the pedals and pumped, trying to work up some speed over the turf. “Hiro, wait up. I was kidding about the Velcro.”
“But what if it is?”
She didn’t turn around, but kept pressing ahead. The brake lights blinked on the van.
Cooper was gaining on her now.
Why would somebody Velcro a backpack to the roof
?
The van stopped—just before the loading dock. Gordy swerved around and skidded to a halt alongside the driver’s door. The backpack didn’t move. Okay, that
was
strange. It
had
to be attached somehow.
Gordy propped himself up with one foot and motioned to the roof. The driver’s window zoomed down and it looked like Gordy said something to the person inside.
Hiro pedaled faster. “Gordy, wait. WAIT.” She sounded …
scared.
Cooper had a creepy feeling. He tried to pick up the pace, but the grass made pedaling tough. Why
would
someone Velcro a backpack and drive alongside a park? Was it some kind of joke? His stomach tightened.
Or a trap.
Gordy dropped his bike and stepped closer to the van.
“Hold on, Gordy!” Cooper shouted. “Wait!”
Gordy grinned and waved at Cooper, slid the side door open on the van, and reached for the backpack.
The guy must have asked him to toss it inside.
Gordy tugged it, but the pack stayed in place.
Not good.
Not
good.
“Back away, Gordy!”
Lunk’s voice. Behind him.
He sensed it too.
“Gordy!” Cooper shouted, and his voice cracked. He pushed the pedals harder but couldn’t make his legs go faster.
Gordy yanked on the backpack again, this time with both hands.
The driver’s door flew open and a man reached out, pressing something into Gordy’s chest.
Gordy jerked back and collapsed like he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning.
Taser.
“GORDY!” Hiro’s scream sliced through Cooper.
Cooper surged past her, his pulse pounding in his ears. Minivan fifty yards away.
God help me. God help me.
The man looked at Cooper for an instant as if gauging how much time he had. Baseball cap. Dark hair sticking out on all sides. Sunglasses. Beard. Black jacket and jeans. Gloves. Cooper wanted to plow into the guy and send him flying, but he would need wings to get there in time. “Gordy!” he screamed.
The man in black hooded Gordy with a dark bag and hefted him inside—whipping the door closed behind him. He dashed back to the driver’s seat. The engine roared even as he slammed the door.
No!
NOOO
! Cooper nearly reached the back of the van.
Stones shot from under its tires, peppering Cooper and forcing him to duck. The van shot ahead. Illinois plates. CRM something.
“Stop … STOP!” Cooper pressed harder. The van sped down the narrow alleyway.
Cooper squinted and caught the number. CRM 9147. He stood on the pedals, throwing all his weight and strength into every stroke while repeating the license plate number.
CRM 9147. CRM 9147. CRM 9147.
The brake lights flashed on for a millisecond as the van approached the turn onto Meadow Drive.
CRM 9147. CRM 9147. CRM 9147.
Tires squealing, the van roared around the corner, heading north on Meadow. The minivan disappeared.
CRM 9147. CRM 9147. CRM 9147.
He kept the cadence going, blazing the number in his head. No time to come up with a catchy way to memorize it.
He raced to Meadow Drive and banked the turn. There was the van, already past Kimball Hill School. It screeched off Meadow and turned west onto School Drive. Cooper lost it again.
CRM 9147. CRM 9147. CRM 9147.
Wind roaring in his ears, he pumped hard through the school lot and cut across the lawn for a clear view of the street beyond.
Nothing. The van—and Gordy—were
gone.
