Chapter 5

I seem to be alive. I’m choking on dust and my whole body hurts. But I’m already stumbling to my feet and breaking into a run.

I’m running blindly. I think I’m out on Main Street again. Yeah, there’s the fence up ahead. Are the coyotes still chasing me? I can’t tell. I don’t hear them. Maybe the wall’s collapse scared them off.

Maybe I’ve gone deaf.

No, I can hear Destiny shouting up ahead.

I’m at the fence. Finally. I climb. My legs ache. My shoulders burn. But I climb. Up, over, and down.

I collapse in the sand and gulp big breaths. Safe.

After a few seconds I raise my head and look around. No sign of the coyotes on the other side of the fence. It’s almost like they vanished into thin air.

Gabby’s bent over, hands on her knees, breathing hard. Ahmed is kneeling next to Destiny, who sits cradling her left arm.

“You guys okay?” I wheeze.

Destiny winces. “I fell on the way down the fence.”

Destiny fell? Destiny, the best climber of the four of us?

“Is your arm . . .?”

“I can’t tell. Hurts a lot.”

I flash back to three years ago, when Ryan Daniels fell off my roof while we were playing extreme Ultimate Frisbee. Broke his ankle. I promised my mom I’d never try something that stupid again.

“Will you be able to ride your bike?”

She manages to snort. “Of course. You think only guys can do those no-hands stunts?”

I laugh shakily. Ahmed goes to my bike, grabs my water bottle out of the holder at the back, and brings it to me. “Thanks,” I say. I take a long swig, then look back at the fence. “How many coyotes do you think there were?”

“Too many,” Destiny pants. “Coyotes hardly ever travel in packs. Pairs at the most. And they hardly ever attack humans. I did a whole report on them last spring. What happened back there was not normal.”

“Don’t start with the stupid curse stuff,” Gabby snaps.

“Do you have another explanation?” Destiny fires back. “They didn’t even seem rabid. Did they?”

“I wouldn’t know! I don’t have a college degree in animal behavior. And guess what? Neither do you.”

If you want to strain a friendship that’s only a few weeks old, throw a coyote attack into the mix. These two are at their limit, I can tell.

“Okay,” I say, pushing myself to my feet. “We need to get out of here.”

Once we’re back on the road, we pedal like our lives depend on it. Ahmed’s out in front. Destiny’s right behind him—one arm tucked against her chest, the other gripping a handlebar. The key is momentum, I guess. I just hope Ahmed doesn’t have to brake suddenly.

We make it back to base just as the last sliver of the sun kisses the horizon. At the front gate, we half-fall off our bikes and fumble for our military ID cards. Ahmed shows his card to the checkpoint guard. Then he waves to us, jumps back on his bike, and takes off. I hope he makes it to his apartment in time for his sunset prayer.

I reach into my jeans pocket for my wallet.

It’s not there.

Gabby and Destiny have both shown their IDs. They look back at me, waiting.

“I—I think I lost my wallet,” I stutter. I look at the poker-faced checkpoint guard. “My ID card was in there. But my name’s Alex Ventura, and my mom is Staff Sergeant Claudia Ventura.”

“Can’t let you in without an ID card or a visitor pass,” he says gruffly.

I spend the next fifteen minutes trying to talk my way into a high-security Air Force base. I give the guy my full name, my social-security number, the name of my mom’s commanding officer, and a summary of her career history. And when none of that works, I call my mom.

Now she really is going to kill me.

***

“What did you do?”

Those are Mom’s first words to me after she gets me past the checkpoint. She finally convinced the guard to let me through by showing him my birth certificate, my social-security card, and a scanned copy of my military ID card. Good thing she’s the type of person who keeps that kind of stuff on hand.

I load my bike into the backseat of Mom’s car. It’s a good way to avoid her question.

“Alex,” she says.

“It’s a long story, Mom.”

“Does it have anything to do with those cuts and bruises?”

I was hoping it would be too dark for her to see how scraped up I am. “I fell off my bike earlier. My wallet must’ve slipped out of my pocket then.”

Not a bad excuse, really. Way better than We jumped a fence illegally and then got attacked by cursed coyotes. Sometimes the truth doesn’t sound very truthful. Mom keeps quiet till I’ve eased myself into the passenger’s seat.

“What else was in your wallet?”

I go through the short list: a couple gift cards, about ten bucks in cash. My body aches so much that I can barely think.

She sighs. “Tomorrow we’ll have to stop by the security office and then go to the RAPIDS site to get you a new ID card. Meanwhile, make sure you clean those cuts properly.”

This is how Mom punishes me. With her tone of voice. When Ryan Daniels almost died falling off my roof in seventh grade. When I convinced David Steir to give me driving lessons with his dad’s car in eighth grade. When Jessie Zhen and I got busted for our traffic cone collection. My friends got slammed with penalties. I got treated to Staff Sergeant Claudia Ventura’s disappointment.

Dad’s way different. When he’s around—which is usually only when Mom’s deployed—he’ll yell if he’s angry. Lecture me. Take away privileges. That’s always easier to take.

“Thanks, Mom. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I assume this was a learning experience for you.”

“Yep.” Though I’m not really sure what I’ve learned. Don’t sneak onto cursed abandoned movie sets? That’s probably a start.

I text Ahmed. You get home alright?

He texts back, Just under the wire. Sorry I had to rush you guys.

No problem. We shouldn’t have cut it so close.

Of course, we cut it close in a lot of ways. Which I remember when Destiny texts me a few minutes later.

My dad says the arm is broken. Her dad’s a flight surgeon. He would know. So are you convinced?

I know what she means. Am I convinced the curse is real? Do I believe our bad luck tonight is a sign of something bigger? Not sure. But at least we’re all safe.

There’s a pause before she replies. For now.