CHAPTER 29

隠し砦 Kakushi Toride

Hidden Fortress

Cold air drifted from the transparent blue sky, making Hiro shiver.

“It was so hot just an hour ago. Now it’s cold, like winter!”

“We’re going into the mountains, that’s why,” Jet told him. “This is where I grew up.”

“I didn’t know you grew up in the mountains, too.”

“Yeah, we have that in common,” Jet said, settling into the cracked red leather seat. In the past few days, it seemed Hiro had forgiven her for what happened on the mountain. She was comforted by that, and relieved. They would have to be a strong team to face whatever was next. Jet was sure of it.

Speaking calmly, J-Bird said, “Look behind us carefully. Don’t make it obvious. Two cars have been following us for a while.”

She and Hiro glanced in the side mirrors. One car, in the right lane behind a big truck, was a shiny black Lincoln Continental. The other was a brown Buick Skylark.

J-Bird sped up. Both cars accelerated.

“Fasten your seat-belts! They’re definitely after us,” he said and continued to accelerate. Jet felt the gravity pulling at her body. They were going ninety-five miles an hour, but the two cars kept up.

Ahead of them, a big truck with a silver back door was in the middle lane, with more cars on either side. Even though J-Bird was fast approaching, no one changed lanes to let him pass. Clearly, they were together, waiting to surround the Falcon from the front and back. J-Bird was blocked in, unable to make a U-turn because of a concrete barrier in the center of the highway.

“Hold on tight!” he said as they approached the huge back door of the truck at a hundred and twenty miles an hour. The two cars behind them fell back.

“I didn’t think this old Falcon had it in her!” he yelled, grinning. He shifted between lanes, going toward the rear of the truck. With a crunch, the left front headlight of the Falcon hit the right tail lamp of the truck, sending it crashing to the center barrier. The impact shook the car, and J-Bird held the wheel tightly to keep from spinning out to the right.

“Jet, hand Hiro the bag under your seat!” he said.

She pulled out the bag. It was heavier than she expected, and she had to drag it out with both hands.

“Throw everything in it out the window!”

When Hiro opened the window, the cold air rushed in. The bag held pyramid-shaped objects made from two nails bent into L-shapes and tied at the middle with wire.

“Tetsubishi!” Hiro shouted, dumping the bag’s contents into the wind. The sharp metal pieces tumbled along the asphalt, and the cars chasing them spun out, braking hard on flat tires, skidding on their wheel rims, sparks flying from the pavement in the seconds before they crashed into each other.

“The shape is like a pyramid, so a sharpened end always points up no matter which way it lands, sticking into tires or even feet,” Hiro explained.

“Satoko taught me how to make them,” J-Bird said. “I’ve had them in the car for about ten years. They were getting rusty!” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, but kept his speed at ninety-five as they flew down the highway, alone now.

Finally, they came to a trailer park at the end of a forest that spread along the north side of Mt. Taylor. They quickly turned in, checking behind them.

“Coast is clear,” J-Bird said, pulling in to a forested area where the trailer homes were almost completely hidden by the branches of fat cedar trees that covered the mountain.

“Come on, quick.” He ushered them out of the car. From somewhere deep in the forest, the cries of an owl echoed like an ancient clock, keeping time in the darkness.

“It’s an owl!” Hiro exclaimed, grabbing Aska’s leash and taking his things from the trunk.

“We call her the Night Eagle. In our medicine wheel, she sits in the East, the place of illumination,” J-Bird said.

“We have them in our village, too. Cool!” Hiro said, awed as much by J-Bird as by the owl.

“She represents magic and is drawn to others who practice it. She might feel a kinship with you,” J-Bird told him. “Or she might be asking you to key into your powers of seeing. She might have a message.”

“What kind of message?” Hiro asked.

“If it’s for you,” J-Bird said, “only you can understand it.”

He led them down a small path, passing little trailers lined up next to each other.

“See the outline of the mountain?” He pointed ahead. “Tsotsil is our name for it. It’s a sacred mountain to the Navajo.”

“Why?” Hiro asked, squinting. Darkness had fallen.

“Over a hundred years ago, our tribes were overwhelmed by the army. We were banished from our homes and sent East. But there wasn’t much water, and the soil was bad. We couldn’t grow anything. All the crops failed. We didn’t have enough food or clothes for the harsh winters. After two years, we were allowed to go back home. On the way, we passed Tsotsil, and we knew we were on our way home. Everyone cried with joy.”

Hiro nodded. His lip quivered, as if he were fighting back tears.

“The same thing happened to your people, didn’t it?” J-Bird added.

“People need a homeland,” J-Bird said, looking behind him at Jet and Hiro with warm, soft eyes.

“Ojiisan always said the same thing,” Hiro told him. “There’s a sacred mountain in my homeland, too. Osore-zan. Everyone goes there when this life is over. Maybe I’ll go there too.”

“That’s a long way away, my boy,” J-Bird said.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not ready!” Hiro agreed vehemently.

“But when you are, we’ll wave to each other across the ocean.”

Hiro smiled. Jet was happy to see him at ease.

They approached J-Bird’s trailer. He opened the door, glancing behind them.

“Welcome to the Hidden Fortress,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I live in a trailer.”

“No way!” Hiro said enthusiastically. “It’s like in the X-Files!”

“Well, I don’t have a TV I’m afraid,” J-Bird apologized.

“I used to go to the restaurant in town to watch it. We didn’t have one either.”

“Well then,” J-Bird replied, “I hope you’ll feel right at home.”