Chapter Nine

Day 2

At the sound of a rooster crowing, Storm awoke with a start. He grumbled and rolled out of bed. The farmhouse was otherwise quiet, which meant nobody else was up, and he could get first dibs on the shower. Four other contestants stayed at the Lancaster Safe House. An elderly couple served as hosts. Last night, Mrs. Gifford cooked the most magnificent dinner. The meal alone was worth the small delay in not reaching Gettysburg.

After a quick shower, he dressed and went down for breakfast. Cereal, milk, and a variety of muffins were set out on the dining room table. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. He’d eat the basic breakfast and be happy, not knowing when the next time he’d eat today.

Last night, he’d researched his next stop with Mr. Gifford in his study and learned the clue waited at Little Round Top hill in Gettysburg National Park. He had about a ninety-minute drive to Gettysburg. With the park opening at six am, the contestants who arrived in Gettysburg last night would have the advantage. He needed to hustle and make up lost time.

At six on the dot, Storm turned the key and drove away from the Lancaster farm house. Little Mrs. Gifford, wearing a calf-length floral dress and pink apron, stood on the front porch and waved. Once he arrived in the town of Gettysburg, he picked up a park map from a gas station and took a minute to study the route to Little Round Top hill. A series of one-way roads wound around the park, taking visitors past different attractions.

The drive through the park was slow going, with early-morning bikers taking up much of the road. When he finally crested the hill, a jolt of exhilaration hit him. The breathtaking scene overlooked acres of farm fields, which had witnessed thousands of men die at the end of a bayonet or cannon ball. A tall, bronze statue stood watch over the gathering crowd. Storm counted seven contestants either arriving or leaving with their clue. He pushed aside panic. Plenty of time to get ahead.

A red flag marked the basket of clues. Storm reached inside and noticed only six were left. He was in the back of the pack. A new sense of urgency increased his pulse. Opening the envelope, he read the directions.

Gettysburg National Park is a living memorial to the lives lost during the three-day battle. If you listen carefully, you can hear the whispers of the ghosts still walking the fields. Task: Ride the provided bike around the park. Five stops are marked along the route. At each, collect one musket ball from the container. Finish back on Little Round Top and present your five musket balls to the Park Ranger. Then, you will receive the next clue.

Storm ran back to his car, grabbed his water bottle, and hopped on one of the few bikes left. He stuffed the park map into the back pocket of his shorts. Attached to the bike helmet was a video camera, but several cameramen sat on bikes at the foot of the hill, ready to follow the contestants as they departed.

Coasting downward, he focused on locating the red flags. But his attention was drawn to the peaceful beauty surrounding him, as well, and he imagined the destruction that took place here two-hundred-and-fifty years ago.

He approached a small, white house, and a red flag greeted him, waving in the breeze. A small monument marked the house as General Meade’s Headquarters. Storm stopped and reached into the ceramic jar, pulling out his first musket ball. He slipped the round piece of lead into a pouch strapped across his body. Only four more to go.

At the Gettysburg Address Memorial, he found musket ball number two. The third rested beside a cannon at McPherson’s Ridge. He’d just finished picking up the fourth at the Virginia Monument when he saw ahead the backside of someone familiar—Colleen. He increased his speed to catch her. “Hey, turtle.” He pedaled alongside her.

Her cheeks were red, and sweat dripped down her face. “You,” she huffed. “Go away.”

“How many musket balls do you have?” He struggled not to smile. She really looked cute.

“How many do you have?” Laughter punctuated her reply. “I was crazy to sign up for this torture side-show.”

Yesterday on the fishing boat, he’d had the same thought. “I’m having the time of my life. Did you get to Gettysburg last night?”

“Stop pumping me for information. I won’t tell you a thing.” She focused her gaze on the road ahead.

“Fine. Enjoy the view as I ride away.” Storm pedaled faster. When he heard Colleen call out his name, he slowed.

“I will tell you one thing,” she shouted. “A pack of other contestants is up ahead…an alliance. Five total, three men and two women. They’re blocking the road so no one else can pass.”

His mind raced with the information. Storm circled around and drew up alongside her. “Have you tried getting by them?”

“No, I don’t have the energy.” Her chest rose and lowered with each deep breath.

After a moment’s thought, a strategy emerged. What if they teamed up to pass the group? Just like car racing. Could he stomach forming an alliance with this woman? He weighed the options, alternating pros and cons like a seesaw. Sure, if doing so helped him get ahead.

They biked for about ten minutes until they approached the group. Tall oak trees and leafy shrubs lined both sides of the shaded road.

The cluster of riders cut a wide path, blocking the entire width.

On his signal, Colleen rode forward on their left.

The group acted like a flock of birds, all shifting to the left to block her.

Their mob mentality and predictability amused him. With an opening now on the right, Storm zipped past. With a few shouts and gasps, the group flocked to the right.

Head down and pumping hard, Colleen then passed on the left.

He ignored the outraged yelling behind him. Laughter bubbled in his chest. “We played them perfectly.”

“Yahoo!” With her feet pumping fast on the pedals, Colleen reached across to give him a high-five.

“You did good, babe.” The words left his lips before the filter in his brain activated. A little encouragement didn’t mean he wanted to be best friends again. Some of the ice he’d built around his heart melted with her smile.

Storm spotted the last flag marker along a line of split-rail fence that bordered the road. He grabbed his last musket ball and pedaled like someone chased by the devil, resulting in almost losing Colleen on the trip up Little Round Top hill. He slowed to look behind him.

She gritted her teeth and kept moving until she met him at the top.

After parking his bike, he hopped off and sprinted over to the Park Ranger for his next clue. Colleen followed, breathing like someone who’d just finished a marathon. Even sweaty and flustered, she still looked gorgeous.

She removed her bike helmet, and her short, damp hair stuck out in all directions.

“You remind me of a porcupine after enthusiastic mating,” Storm shouted as she walked past.

“Gross.” She reached her car then glanced back. Her nose scrunched, and her eyes narrowed. “How do you know what a porcupine looks like after mating?”

“A kid learns a lot growing up on a commune.” He couldn’t stop laughing at her skeptical expression.

“You’re so weird.” Colleen climbed in her car and closed the door.

He hated to admit sometimes two were more effective than one. For better or worse, he and Colleen were in this competition together. And shockingly, he might be okay with that. He ripped open the envelope flap.

An NFL regulation football is the next item you need to collect. The stadium that holds your next clue is a temple to the great condiment of ketchup. Steel yourself for another physical challenge.

****

Colleen read the clue five times and still had no idea where to go. Storm was long gone. Guess teaming up once was enough for today. Although, he’d surprised her earlier by asking to work together. Would wonders ever cease?

Okay—enough thinking about Storm and how attractive he looked riding on a bicycle. Drooling over him would not get her any closer to solving this clue.

Before Colleen left Liberty Ridge, Grace gave her a book of tourist spots all over the country, sorted by state. Colleen grabbed the book from her pack and thumbed through the closest states. She needed an NFL football stadium, which should help narrow her options. When she saw the bold lettering of Pittsburgh Steelers and Heinz Stadium, she wanted to scream in relief and frustration. Finally! After consulting her map, she drove west toward the Steel City.

The long drive was welcome, since her legs still trembled from the biking excursion. She was a regular at spin class but riding a real bike over lofty hills was definitely more of a challenge. On the trip, she found a classic music station, and her mind became lost in the melodies. By the time she pulled into the parking lot of Heinz Field at noon, her body and soul were rejuvenated.

As she entered, Storm ran out, waving a sheet of paper. “Move fast and keep your head down,” he yelled in passing. He sported a red welt on his forehead. “See you at the Time-Out.”

Her heart leaped. The next clue would lead to a Time-Out stop, which meant if she was one of the last there, she’d be eliminated. With adrenaline rushing through her veins, she sprinted into the stadium.

Colleen followed the show’s signage, through a switchback series of halls, until she was in the locker room. Without fanfare, she ran through the tunnel and onto the football field. The words of her next clue glowed on the massive TV screen set at the end of the field.

This field is 100 yards long. Get ready to run. Remember gophers from high school gym? Get ready for gophers on steroids.

Start at the end zone and run to the 20-yard line. Touch back at the end zone and run to the 50-yard line. Touch back at the end zone and run to the 80-yard line. Touch back at the end zone and run to the opposite end zone. Sprint back across the field and end at the goalpost.

All while avoiding footballs thrown by the Steelers’ quarterback.

She stomped her foot in protest, and then watched the quarterback sling footballs. The man had an arm like a rocket. Instead of worrying about the quarterback, she ducked her head and ran for her life.

After several minutes of burning exercise, she dropped onto the turf in the end zone next to the goal post and clutched her stomach. I think I’m sick. Thankfully, she’d avoided getting hit by footballs thrown by the lumberjack-size quarterback. She allowed several seconds to catch her breath before stiffly rising to stand. As she limped to the tunnel, the quarterback winked. She scoffed. Did he honestly think she’d flirt after he’d used her as a moving practice target? Maybe he figured going easy on her would increase his luck. Not likely. Disappearing back into the stadium, Colleen opened the envelope.

Next up is a Time-Out stop. Last three contestants to arrive will be eliminated. From 1876 to 1995, this Gothic stone structure was home to many of West Virginia’s most violent prisoners. Find Old Sparky to check in.

She would have jumped for joy, if her legs weren’t ready to give out. Not long ago, she’d seen a Ghost Hunters episode filmed at the West Virginia Penitentiary. Checking with her map, she found the prison in Moundsville, WV. A short drive—only an hour away.

As she drove, the Ghost Hunters episode replayed in her mind. The West Virginia Penitentiary was creepy, to say the least. She hoped they wouldn’t stay overnight. But she was on a reality show—so, of course, the show’s producers would house them in the haunted prison. Would Storm protect her from the ghosts of the prisoners who wandered the halls? Not likely. To be honest, the feelings he stirred inside her were scarier than any ghost.

****

As Storm entered the massive stone main building of the West Virginia Penitentiary, he felt his skin prickle. The place looked more like a haunted medieval castle than a prison. He stopped at the office for a map to find Old Sparky, and then he headed into the dank bowels of the empty prison. As he traveled, a row of abandoned cells flanked him on one side. On the other was a line of chain link fence. What had a man felt to be caged in one of these small cells, waiting to be led down for his date with death? Some weird electricity charged the air around him. Probably just his imagination.

After about twenty minutes of walking and a few wrong turns, he found his destination. Entering the execution room sent chills down his spine.

Inside a sterile white room, the host of the show, Burt Blackstone, waited. He stood before Old Sparky, the famous electric chair. “Welcome to the West Virginia Penitentiary in Moundsville. You are number eight to check in,” Burt Blackstone announced.

Storm’s body relaxed with instant relief. He was still in the game.

“You’ll stay on the prison grounds for the next twenty-four hours. Each contestant will leave in the order in which they’ve arrived.”

Storm turned toward the next contestant, who’d come in behind him and unfortunately was not Colleen. He wondered if she was on site already or still on the road—and hoped she arrived soon enough to stay in the competition. Be a shame to say good-bye already. He left the room and found a tour guide waiting, who escorted him to his lodgings. Or should he say his prison cell.

When he got to his cell, he halted outside the bars. His feet refused to move. After a few deep breaths, he passed into a cramped space that made his skin crawl. Well, staying here will make for a memorable night. The walls of the cell were made of cold metal and plaster and had served as a medium for its former inhabitant’s artwork and written compositions. Some were more colorful than others. A bio-hazard-looking toilet and sink were attached to the back wall.

Might as well get comfortable. He unpacked a blanket, which he laid over the plastic-covered mattress on a rusty metal frame bed to take a little nap. With his eyes closed, the rotting smell of his surroundings intensified. A cold breath passed over the bare skin of his arms—seriously creepy.

Sleep might be impossible after dark, when his mind would play even more tricks. He dozed off for about an hour, and then woke to go exploring. He passed several occupied cells filled with other contestants. So far, no ghosts.

In the last cell on his level, he found Colleen and immediately suppressed a smile. She read, curled up on her bed like a child. “You made it.” He stepped inside and relaxed for the first time since entering the prison. “How did you place?”

“I came in tenth. Dead middle of the pack. I’d hoped to do better.” She took off her glasses and set them on the bed.

“You must have arrived soon after me. I was number eight.”

Colleen peered up with bright blue eyes. For some reason, instead of appearing cold, they reminded him of deep pools of tropical water—ones he wanted to dive into and become lost. If he didn’t keep up his guard around her, he’d witness his own undoing.

She swung her legs off the side of the bed. “How did you figure out the Pittsburgh clue so fast? I must have lost twenty minutes on that one.”

Pride straightened his posture. “I might have been raised on a hippy commune, but I know football. Heinz Field, Pittsburgh Steelers—that one was easy.”

She reached into her pack and pulled out a plastic bag. “I brought along some nuts and dried fruit. You want some?”

“Sure.” On cue, his stomach growled. He held out his hand, and she poured a portion onto his palm. “Thanks.”

Watching him, she grinned. “You still eat all the cashews first.”

He couldn’t believe she remembered. “They’re my favorite.” When the cashews were gone, he popped the rest of the mix into his mouth and chewed.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” She marked her place in her book then snapped it shut. “Being here alone gives me the creeps.”

“I still have to do my interview and the confessional booth thing.” The traveling and challenges were fine, but he hated sitting in front of a camera and answering stupid questions.

“I have to do that, too. We can go together.” Colleen stood and followed him out into the corridor.

Even after all these years, he continued to be drawn to Colleen. Maybe because she was the only familiar person in this crazy adventure. He didn’t like her and didn’t trust her, but they shared a history. Her presence gave him comfort, just as when he was a small boy. Remembering that time in his life filled him with unease. He’d been vulnerable then, and he despised the dependency he’d experienced throughout his childhood.

As they walked in silence, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the chilly air.

When they arrived at the show’s headquarters, housed in the old warden’s office, Colleen halted. “You can go first. I’ll wait outside. Come get me when you’re done.”

With as much enthusiasm as a condemned man being led to Old Sparky, he entered and sat across from one of the show’s producers. The crew miked him up, and the camera’s light glowed.

“Storm, you had a setback during the fishing challenge. Tell us what happened on the boat.” The redhead female producer leaned forward in her chair.

He suppressed his instinctual growl and kept the expression on his face passive. “I caught my fish. Just took a little longer than I would have liked.”

“You and Colleen appear to have teamed up.” She crossed her legs and drummed her fingers on her thigh. “From what we learned during the preliminary interviews, you two were more enemies than lovers. So, what’s changed?”

The producer’s eyes sparkled with predatory excitement. He’d throw cold water on any implication he and Colleen had hooked up. “The bike incident was out of necessity. An alliance had blocked the road. Neither of us could pass them on our own. You’ll have to ask Colleen why she helped me navigate the Metro back in DC.”

“She’s a very pretty woman and a doctor to boot. Can we expect any sparks to fly?” Her eyebrows waggled.

Storm frowned. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Her smile transformed into a grimace. “Okay, Storm. We’re done. Can you ask Colleen to come in? Then, step into the confessional booth and talk for about five minutes on your experiences so far.”

He walked outside and found Colleen sitting on the ground in the enclosed former exercise yard. Her face lifted toward the sun. The image stirred feelings he’d forgotten. For the first time since moving home, he wished he and Colleen didn’t share such a toxic history. If only he was just a guy and she was just a girl, and they met as adults and slowly got to know each other.

Had she really changed so drastically? According to the word around town, she was a reformed person. Even his mom thought she walked on water. He couldn’t get drawn back into Colleen’s aura. He’d win the prize money, which meant she’d go home disappointed. He was sure situations would arise, and he’d step on her toes more than a few times in order to win. Harper and their future together were more important than anything else.