Broken Arrow: The Seven Sequels by John Wilson

Author:John Wilson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, JUV001000, JUV028000, JUV030050
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2014-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

“Aaaahhh,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you just love the energizing smell of plutonium in the evening air?” We were standing by a high chain-link fence that encircled a large area of hilly ground where bomb number two had landed and exploded. Behind us, the narrow dirt road wound back to town between two reservoirs and the local cemetery.

Laia laughed and punched me on the shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yes,” I agreed, “but I’m a happy, harmless idiot.”

“Are you happy?” Laia was suddenly serious.

“You mean despite being forced to hang out with Chad, having a mystery that seems unsolvable and being threatened by armed mobsters?” Laia smiled, but I could see she was still serious. “Yes. I’m very happy,” I said, putting my arm around her shoulder. “I’m so glad you invited me here for Christmas.”

“And I am glad you came,” Laia said. She moved in and hugged me. “I’m very happy too,” she whispered in my ear.

I could have stood there forever, on a dirt road on a warm Spanish evening with Laia’s arms around me, but the peace was broken by the distant rumble of a scooter. We pulled apart.

“Do you have scooters in Canada?” Laia asked.

“Not many,” I said. “I think it’s mostly a European thing.”

“Then perhaps I will come to Canada. It sounds like a peaceful place. Nothing ever happens there.”

“That’s not fair,” I said with mock indignity. “Lots of stuff happens in Canada. We had the War of 1812 and the Mackenzie-Papineau Rebellion in 1837…”

“I’m sorry,” Laia said. “Since 1812, we in Spain have only had a war against Napoleon, two civil wars, a lost Empire, forty years of a Fascist dictatorship, Basque terrorism, and countless rebellions.”

I laughed. “One of our prime ministers said that Europe’s problem was too much history.”

“He was right.”

“He also said that Canada suffered from too much geography.”

Laia laughed. “Then I will come over in the summer and you can show me some of Canada’s geography.”

“I would love that,” I said as a bright red scooter appeared around the corner between the reservoirs. The rider was young and helmetless, with a green scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. He slowed as he drew level with us. I raised my hand in greeting. He ignored it and continued past, staring hard at us as he did. Once he was past, he accelerated down the hill.

“Friendly,” I commented as his dust cloud drifted over us. Then a thought struck me. “Do you think Blue Eyes sent him to keep an eye on us?”

Laia shook her head and brushed the dust off her clothes. “There are many kids on scooters, especially along the coast. He probably slowed down to see if we had a bag he could easily snatch. It happens a lot, although mostly in the summer. But we should be moving on. It’ll be dark soon, and I need a shower now more than ever.”

As we set off down the road, Laia said, “Now, except for where bomb number four fell out to sea, we have visited all of the locations in your grandfather’s notebook.

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