Scouts on the Run (We-Write collab with @sarez)

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He was an Eagle Scout,

fresh out of high school, a week away from starting college, and he just meant to have some fun with his two best friends, one last hurrah, before they all left home. They met as Boy Scouts at age seven; they’d been like the Three Musketeers, not the Three Stooges. No one would have expected it of them, not their parents, not even one of their classmates. Dart Ziemer, Austin White, Mark Jordan, good boys from good families, straight-A students. Eagle Scouts! With scholarships and bright futures. What were they thinking?

And where did they get the body from?

Dart sat alone in the interrogation room with the mirror and bolted-down table and all. He was confused and afraid, but he composed his face as the door opened. Deputy Sheriff Lancer was a typical all American cop. Tall, tough, with thinning hair and sharp eyes. Dart took the tray gratefully taking a gulp from the bottle of water and then a tentative sip of the bitter coffee. Lancer sat silent while Dart settled down again.

“So, what are you doing here, so far from home?”

Dart replied with a sigh. “I don’t know. Last I remember we were off Interstate highway 71, near Jackson’s … ugh.” His throat--there was pain blooming, and he could not breathe. Dart tried to suck in air, now standing with hands tightly holding onto the table. Vision blurred into a gray fog as his body spasmed.

When Dart woke up he could not move his head much. It was definitely a hospital room, all white and smelling of antiseptic, tubes snaking from a bag of saline and the muted beeping of a monitor. Then the nurses and doctors came in, examining and tweaking the drip adding a new dose of what he did not know. None of them would say anything about his condition or medication except words like. “The worst is over.” “Rest. We can talk later.” “You may feel disoriented.”

After what seemed hours of waiting and a few naps Deputy Sheriff Lancer walked in and sat down on a stool beside him. “Before you ask any questions I need you to recount what you remember from the time you left The Burger Grill at Jackson’s Ranch till now.”

Dart took a deep breath and started to recollect:

"Austin had been driving the old Ford convertible while Mark rode shotgun with a blaring old boom box in his lap. He was sprawled in the back seat comfortable after their huge lunch and god knows how many beers. They had seen a smashed up car and had stopped when Mark had seen something. The driver was bleeding all over the seat- broken nose, a few cuts on the forehead and a swollen wrist. When we dragged her out we saw a deep cut just above her left knee which was still bleeding.

"We bandaged her as best as we could and took him back to Jackson’s Ranch as an ambulance would take at least 20 minutes to get here, probably more. To the big house- Old man Mapper was the nearest we could find a doctor. He gave her an injection and some painkillers while he stitched the leg wound. After half an hour of ministrations the lady was not coherent yet. So Mapper thought not to give her further drugs but took her in his own car to the General Hospital. We helped him settle the lady in the back seat and waited till the car started. Then we turned around right back, this time I was driving. We were stopped by two unmarked police cars with lights blinking. near exit 29. He showed us a badge and seeing blood on our clothes asked us to step out and stand with our hands behind our heads. Then…it was when the police- you found us. Woke us up- by the highway side. And the body in the trunk.

"That’s it I guess,” Dart finished.

Lancer asked. “Do you know who the woman was?”

Dart frowned trying to recollect. “No! She was not carrying ID.”

Lancer replied. “ Good! Well you taking the initiative to take her to Dr. Mapper saved both her life and yours. The body in your car was her guard. She has .. cleared you three. You suffered an allergic reaction brought on by some exotic drugs you were given by the people who stopped you. They were monitoring hospitals but you took her to Dr. Mappers instead.”

“They were foreign spies?” Dart blurted before he could stop himself.

“Let it go kid. Just don’t drink coffee for a few days.” Lancer held out a form to sign.

Dart signed it and before he could ask more. Lancer turned away “Bye Kid! Stay safe.”

This was way better then he had expected. They had foiled an international espionage plot in Jackson’s Ranch. Dart now frantically wished he had his cell phone, the monitor in response beeped faster.

HIS MOTHER DESCENDED

on the hospital. Martina “Marti” Ziemer, full of righteous wrath and indignation. Dart could feel the electric energy before her presence was even announced. “My child,” two words, in controlled and even but chilling and understated tones, traveled with the power of an A.M. radio station. “You have my child, and I want him back. With his name cleared. And his friends’ names, too.”

Lancer lowered his head like a bull ready to charge. “Cool your jets, Marti. Your boy is a hero, not a felon.”

Grimacing, tight-lipped, she filled out the paperwork and claimed her son.

The Jordans and the Whites collected their offspring in quiet contrast to Marti and her red-hot wrath. Discreetly, they slipped away. Dart could see them just outside the hospital doors, the paparazzi snapping their cameras and shoving mics at them. Austin and Mark displayed the ubiquitous V fingers pointing downward, posing with mouths agape and tongues hanging. Now was not the time, guys. Dart winced and turned his gaze to his mother, but she was focused on Lancer, not the other Musketeers and their antics.

“Heroes,” Mary muttered. Her eyes burned chapter and verse at Lancer and anyone within scorching distance of the legendary Ziemer stare. “Good one, Lancer. You’ve outdone yourself.”

Confused, chastened, humbled, but mostly just confused, Dart followed her through a side exit, dodging the media, and to her beloved four-door Maxima.

“One week,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just one week, and you would be off to college. What, were you hoping to share a prison cell, rather than be separated, You Three?”

She said it like an insult now. You Three. They were always more like a holy trinity. Good boys!

Dart tried, but he just couldn’t remember what had gone down that night. Foreign spies. That part stayed with him.

“And that cock-and-bull story of Lancer’s. You have no idea.”

That’s for sure, Dart almost said, but he didn’t feel like reinforcing her judgments.

“Just wait until your father gets home,” she said.

Kip Ziemer, a computer guru, was on another business trip to Siberia. Suddenly, Dart felt queasy.

His username on Steemit was @ redmenace, and for the first time, it occured to Dart that Red Menace might not refer to Dad’s ginger hair and mischievous smile.

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GO, @sarez -- Or is it DONE?

For fun, I'm not saying who wrote what (just yet), but it should be apparent. We chose

Option 3

You can both publish the freewrites and if you want, add a bit on how that kind of writing felt to you. Was it fun? Difficult? Want to do it again?

YES, this is fun!
Yes, this could be difficult. Starting out, I'd had explosives in mind. Something a lot darker than what @sarez wrote. Maybe I've read so much of @negativer, I can't resist violence and horror now! Also, I kept picturing Mom bailing her son out of jail, not collecting him from a hospital, so I had to go back and correct my error. And add a space to @redmenace - lest one really exists here at Steemit! (Naturally there is a redmenace here already.)

Yes, I'd do it again.

And, @sarez, when you post this, you can choose whatever image you want, whatever Markdown Styling and hashtags.

Thank you, @sarez, for tagging me; thanks, @curie, @mariannewest, @brisby, @snook and all at @freewritehouse for sponsoring The We-Write Stories.

To make it a bit easier for you to find the fabulous Freewrite Stories, I put them all into one post for you. You still can participate and your stories will be added as you submit them.