Running on Fumes Page 4

  His mouth dropped open. “Do you see that? Or is it a freaky desert mirage?”

  I followed his gaze. We both stared at the metallic dot moving toward us. Was it—?

  I yanked a small pair of binoculars out of my pack.

  “It’s a van,” I told Joe.

  NOW ENTERING HEAVEN

  A van. Yes! Our butts were saved.

  Unless Frank and I were both having heat hallucinations. I asked Frank for his binoculars and used them to take a better look at the vehicle.

  “It’s a Seussmobile,” I told Frank.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You know, it looks like something out of a Dr. Seuss book.” What else was it supposed to mean?

  Frank took the binoculars back and checked out the van for himself.

  “See?” I asked. “It has all those weird metal things poking out all over it.”

  “I think they’re solar panels,” he said. “Which explains why we aren’t hearing any motor.”

  It hadn’t even registered with me how quiet the van was, but my brother was right. It was as silent as a submarine under water.

  “There’s a good chance we’ve found Arthur Stench,” Frank told me. “Or he’s about to find us. What else would an extreme environmentalist drive?”

  I took the binoculars again. The van was close enough for me to see the driver now. “It’s not Stench,” I announced. “Not unless he’s had an extreme makeover.”

  A girl was operating the solar-powered van. A complete killer of a girl. With all this curly light red hair. Dark freckles on her shoulders. Shades covered her eyes—but I was thinking they were green.

  Maybe this was a mirage after all.

  Frank held out his hand for the binoculars. I handed them over. Then I pulled the T-shirt off my head and used my fingers to comb through my sweat-soaked hair. I’d been thinking this vacation would be girl-free. How happy was I that I was wrong?

  “I’m still thinking the thing is a Stenchmobile,” Frank said. “The girl could be one of his followers. There are supposed to be a bunch of people our age at the compound.”

  I knew that. But somehow I’d pictured Stench’s followers differently. I mean, you don’t usually think of normal teenager types living out in the middle of the desert. No movies. No malls. No skateboard parks. No candy. No fun.

  I thought all the people at the compound would be, well, geeks. But the girl in the van was no geek. Geeks aren’t hot.

  Frank stared at me like I was crazy as I licked my fingers and used them to wipe the dirt off my face. “That’s gross. You’re smearing spit all over yourself.”

  Who cared? First impressions count. And the red-haired girl was about to get her first impression of me. She pulled the van to a stop next to us and leaned out the window.

  “Welcome to Heaven!” she called.

  “Does that mean we’re dead?” Frank asked.

  The girl pulled off her shades. I was wrong about her eyes. They were brown, not green. Light brown. Almost gold.

  Okay, I sound like a potatohead. Sorry. Just lost it for a minute.

  “You don’t look like a ghost to me,” the girl answered Frank. She smiled as she stared at him. Stared—as in, checked him out. After I washed my face with spit for her!

  “Heaven’s what we call this place,” the girl added. She squinted, trying to see through the sun. “I guess I should tell you what I’m called too. My name’s Petal Northstar.”

  Huh? That girl’s parents did not name her Petal. I kept my mouth shut, though. There was still a chance Petal might realize I was the Hardy who was worthy of her. I didn’t want to blow it.

  “I’m Alex Jefferson,” Frank said. “And this is my brother, John.”

  Do you think he could have come up with a more boring alias for me? John. Come on. “You can call me J. J.,” I quickly told Petal. “For John Jefferson.”

  I knew it was safer to use a fake name. But that didn’t mean the name couldn’t be somewhat cool.

  “How’d you guys end up all the way out here?” Petal asked. Her voice was soft.

  Like a petal.

  Man! I just went potatohead again.

  “We were just doing some off-road motorcycle riding. Then we ran over a couple of spikes, and they blew our tires out,” Frank answered. “But we kept on walking.”

  “Maybe you should have obeyed the No Trespassing signs,” Petal said. It didn’t sound like she had any problem with using spikes to keep out unwanted guests.

  “Yeah. It’s just that you have to get almost this deep into the desert to get the full impact of the terrain. All the way out here, the world is untouched. No soda cans. No graffiti.”

  Got to hand it to Frank. If Petal was from Stench’s compound, he’d said the perfect words. He’d made himself look like someone who would want to live with a bunch of save-the-Earthers. I also gave him points for spitting the words out. He tended to be super-shy around girls.

  Petal climbed out of the van. She walked around to the back door, opened it, and pulled out some canteens for me and Frank.

  “I actually saw a cactus with graffiti carved into it once. Cut right into the cactus flesh,” she said as we both took long drinks.

  Nothing tastes as good as water in the desert. Nothing.

  “That’s so wrong,” I told her. She really looked at me for the first time—then turned her attention back to Frank. I don’t know how he does it. Because he doesn’t even do anything! It’s like how mosquitoes go for some people more than others. Girls swarm to Frank. And what does he do about it? Nothing. What a waste!

  “Mr. Stench is expecting me back. I guess I should bring you guys with me. We can make plans to get you home later.” She smiled at Frank. “Or maybe you’ll want to stay awhile. Really experience the desert.”

  Bingo. She was definitely from Arthur Stench’s compound.

  “Great,” Frank said. “Thanks.” He climbed into the back of the van, and I was right behind him. I was hoping I could get the shotgun seat next to Petal, but it was loaded with boxes.

  I wondered what was in them. Guns? Bombs? Vegetable seeds?

  “Did that water taste weird to you?” Frank asked as Petal walked back around the van to the driver’s side door.

  “It tasted awesome,” I answered.

  “Don’t drink too much, okay?” he said. He dropped his voice to a whisper as Petal got behind the wheel. “I think it might be poisoned. It tasted off to me.”

  Poisoned? But why? Did Stench somehow get advance notice that Frank and I were coming? Did he know about the mission?

  The thoughts made me feel dizzy. Or maybe it was all those hours in the sun. I drank some more water. It really did taste good. Maybe a little metallic from being in the canteen, but good.

  Frank shot me a disapproving look. But it’s not like it was any better to die of dehydration than poison. You were dead either way.

  Petal powered up the solar van, and we bounced away. It felt great to be moving and sitting.

  “You two must be hungry.” Petal said “you two” but she was using the rearview mirror to look straight at Frank. Even though Frank was still wearing a freakin’ T-shirt turban and had grit all over him. He looked like one of those sand people in Star Wars.

  “Yeah. All that walking,” Frank answered.

  “There are some energy bars in that bag behind your seat. Help yourself.”

  I didn’t need to be asked twice. I grabbed bars for me and Frank, and had half of one down my gullet in about a second.

  “Chewy,” Frank said, the word coming out garbled because he was having trouble swallowing his bite of energy bar.

  Mine wasn’t going down too smooth either. The more I chewed, the bigger the lump in my mouth seemed to become. Although it couldn’t really be growing.

  Could it?

  “Tofu and cactus fiber,” Petal told us. “We make them ourselves at the compound.”

  Frank looked like I felt. He looked like he was about to hur
l. Somehow he managed to swallow his wad of cactus tofu. I figured if he could do it, I could do it—so in one huge gulp, I forced the gunk down my throat.

  “Is that what you mostly do at the compound? Cook?” I asked.

  “We don’t have assigned jobs like that,” Petal explained. “We each do what Mr. Stench asks us to.”

  She answered Frank, even though I was the one who had done the asking. “She likes you,” I signed to Frank, keeping my hands low so Petal couldn’t see. He and I had learned American Sign Language on another mission. It came in handy when whispering was too loud.

  Frank blushed. Even the tips of his ears turned fiery red. “She’s pretending,” he signed back. “She wants to put us off guard.”

  I checked to make sure that Petal’s eyes were on the road and not my brother. They were. So I signed my answer. “Who cares if she is? She’s smokin’.”

  Frank’s fingers moved fast as he shot back his reply. “I don’t trust her.”

  “You don’t trust anybody,” I signed back to Frank. It’s true. My big brother has a suspicious nature. Which I guess is good for an ATAC member. But still.

  Me? I usually trust people until I have a reason not to.

  “Hey, we didn’t even say thanks for saving our lives. We’d be vulture chow if you hadn’t shown up,” I told Petal.

  I meant it. But I was trying to remind Frank that this girl had done us a huge favor.

  “My pleasure,” Petal said. “My complete pleasure,” she added, again with the long look at Frank.

  Frank’s blush had started to fade—but those words from Petal got it going again.

  “Hey, here we are!” Petal exclaimed. “I can’t wait for you to meet Mr. Stench and everybody.”

  I couldn’t wait to meet Stench either. The mystery man. What would he be like? Slowly, we drove past a sign that read: NOW ENTERING HEAVEN.

  * * *

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Petal Northstar, aka Paula Northum

  Hometown: La Quinta, California

  Physical description: Age 17, 5′6″, 128 lbs., red hair, brown eyes, hummingbird tattoo on left shoulder blade.

  Occupation: Member of the Heaven compound.

  Background: Only child; dentist father, school tacher mother; 3.8 GPA; created a Web page called Toxic Avengiri.

  Suspicious behavior: Heard to say she would do absolutely anything for Arthur Stench, extremely skilled with a bow and arrow.

  Suspect of: Aiding Arthur Stench in acts of violence.

  Possible motives: Desire to stop the use of technology and oil.

  THE FAMOUS MR. STENCH

  Now Entering Heaven. I wondered if that was true. Or if we were really entering some kind of hell.

  Actually, the place didn’t look like either. The compound didn’t look like much of anything. Just a cluster of tents of different sizes, a short row of Porta-Pottis, and in the distance, one wooden building with no windows that I could see.

  Petal pulled the van up next to the biggest tent. Two guys about my age trotted up to meet us. They started unloading the boxes from the front seat without a word.

  “I’ve got some stuff to take care of,” Petal said. “But I know Mr. Stench will want to see you guys and help you get wherever you need to go.”

  She smiled at me. Was Joe right? Did she like me? I’m not the best girl smile evaluator.

  It didn’t matter. I had to stay objective. About Petal. About Stench. About the whole compound. Joe and I were on a fact-finding mission. And I needed to focus on facts. Only facts.

  “That is, if he doesn’t convince you to stay,” Petal added. “A lot of people do. It’s the kind of place you find when you’re the kind of person who belongs here. I—”

  “Hey, Petal. My blowin’ in the wind girl,” someone called, interrupting.

  I turned toward the voice and saw a guy wearing a metal suit with what looked like a metal top hat on his head. Additional sheets of metal poked out from his back like mutant angel wings.

  “Oh, Dorothy!” Joe said out of the side of his mouth.

  I tried not to crack up. But now that Joe had pointed it out, I realized the guy did have a Tin Woodsman look going. He literally clanked as he headed over to us.

  “Solar Man.” Petal gave the guy a half hug. Half was all she could manage with those metal wings the guy was sporting.

  “Whatcha got there?” the man asked, nodding at me and Joe.

  “I found these boys wandering in the desert,” Petal answered. “Alex and J. J., meet Solar Man. He’s been with the compound from the beginning.”

  I made a mental note: He’d be a good source of information.

  “Can you take care of them for me? I know Mr. Stench will want to talk to them.”

  “Of course, my little bit of flower,” Solar Man told Petal.

  “See you guys later,” Petal told me and Joe. She headed into the large tent.

  “Yeah, like she’s ever actually seen me,” Joe muttered. He’s always complaining about how girls like me more. I don’t get it.

  “The chief is in a confab right now,” Solar Man said. “Cannot be interrupted. But you two can hang with me until he’s done. Come on, I’ll take you to my abode.”

  It wasn’t hard to figure out which tent belonged to Solar Man. It was the only one covered with solar panels. There was a lawn chair made entirely of foil sitting out front.

  Solar Man adjusted the chair so that it was facing directly toward the sun. Then he sank down onto it with a sigh. I blinked as his solar-suit shot reflections of the sun into my eyes.

  “All made of recycled materials. Found ’em myself,” Solar Man told us, patting his foil chair.

  “Aren’t you hot?” Joe asked.

  I’d wanted to ask Solar Man that myself, but I thought he might get offended.

  “I’m storing up energy, little brother.” Solar Man tapped a power pack strapped to his side. “Don’t you think it’s worth a little pain to save our planet?”

  His voice was mellow, but his dark eyes were sharp.

  Did he think it was worth pain to other people to save the planet?

  “It’s definitely worth some pain,” Joe agreed. “I was just wondering how you can survive it. We were out in the sun for only a few hours, with no panels, and we almost didn’t make it.”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time. I’ve built up an endurance,” Solar Man explained.

  I wondered what he meant by a long time. A year? Five? Twenty-five? Forty? The guy was in his sixties at least.

  “Did you start when you met Mr. Stench? Or were you doing it before then?” Joe asked.

  Solar Man shifted in his seat. I bet it was hard to get comfortable with those metal wings. Even if they sort of sunk down into the foil of the chair.

  “I was a sun god long before I met Arthur. That’s how we met, actually. He saw me gathering energy and knew I should live at the compound. Even though the compound was just a dream in my man’s head back then.”

  * * *

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Solar Man, aka Danny Sunshine, aka Daniel Templeton

  Hometown: Woodstock, New York

  Physical description: Age 63, 6′1″, about 160 lbs., African American, bald, brown eyes, missng one toe on right foot.

  Occupation: Member of the Heaven compound.

  Background: Followed th Grateful Dead selling T-shirts for twlve years; no family, no driver’s license; first member of Arthur Stench’s compound.

  Suspicious behavior: Wrote a paper about how people who don’t agrre to use solar power should be locked in a dark cellar until they see the light.

  Suspect of: Assisting Arthur Stench in acts of ecoterrorism.

  Possible motives: Stench makes him feel important; Stench helps him get his message out to the world.

  * * *

  “How long ago was that?” I sat down in the small patch of shade thrown by the tent. Joe flopped down next to me.

  “More than a year
now. First Arthur and I traveled around a little. Finding the other people who we knew belonged.”

  “How did you find them?”

  “I feel it right here.” Solar Man tapped the solar panel covering his chest. I figured he meant he felt it in his heart. Not the panel. But with a guy like Solar Man, who knew?

  “I can feel their soul touching my soul. Some are like me—folks who have found their own way to make a difference.” He ran his hand lightly over his metal top hat.

  “A lot are like little Petal. Young ones who realize the earth is dying and have dedicated their lives to saving it.”

  Joe and I exchanged a look. I knew my brother was trying to make the same call I was. Harmless wacko—or should-be-behind-bars wacko?

  “Arthur created a place for all of us,” Solar Man went on, talking faster and faster, his voice rising with each word. “Other people—businesspeople, reporters, scientists, the president—may think we’re crazy. But Arthur understands that all geniuses look a little crazy. He knows the ideas we develop here will change everything.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him,” I said.

  “Be patient, tumbleweed. The man has lots of things to attend to. But he’ll make time for you,” Solar Man answered.

  “What’s that one wooden building?” Joe asked. “The one with no windows.”

  Excellent question. The building was definitely the winner in the one-of-these-things-is-not-like-the-other game.

  “That’s Arthur’s thinkatorium. That’s where he thinks all his big thoughts,” Solar Man answered.

  “And the no windows are because …?” I asked, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

  Solar Man sat up suddenly, solar panels clattering. “You two ask a lot of questions.”

  My gut muscles tightened. Had we blown our cover?

  “We’re curious,” Joe said quickly. “Seekers.”

  “I like it,” Solar Man told him. He turned to me. “Windows equal distractions, little brother. That’s why you don’t find them on Arthur’s place. People equal distractions too. That’s why he has a lock on the door. He needs his thinking time.”