Chapter XVII

In Highway Patrol Central Command, Sergeant Kako’tok stirred his Lemon Koopa Tea idly, staring blankly at the computer screen before him. He was rostered on to co-ordinate patrols through the Southern Provinces, checking their progress and collating reports. There seemed to be nothing more than a couple of broken-down cars. Even the roadside camps they were supposed to look for were producing nothing. It was going to be another bori–

A string of piercing beeps and a red screen made the Sergeant sit bolt upright in his chair. He looked down disdainfully at the spilt tea on his shell, pressed a computer key, and reached for the radio.

“This is Central Command to TR2, your transceiver is broken, please respond.”

He reached for a tissue from a handy box and started to mop up the spill as he was replied to with white noise.

“This is Central Command to TR2,” he repeated after a few seconds. “Please respond.”

The roar of static replied again.

“Please respond, TR2.”

Nothing.

He pressed another computer key. “This is Central Command to RT4, please respond.”

“This is RT4, over,” came the Patrolkoopa’s reply.

“Please state your position, over.”

“We have just passed Milepost R32, over.”

“Patrol TR2’s transceiver has broken, and they are not responding to comms. Their last transmission was from near Milepost…” he quickly consulted a chart of the mileposts along that route, “…R44. Proceed to Milepost R44 and report. Use caution; bandits may be operating.” His eyes passed over the memorandum about the two Yoshies. “Or worse. Over and out.”

The mood was rather sullen as they drove along the dark road into hilly country. No-one spoke. No-one wanted to. Kampagnie paid extra attention to the bends in the road, Ark was watching the insides of his eyelids, Lich stared out the windscreen into the unshared night, and Kart flinched. Again.

Lich turned his gaze to the more senior partner as Ark cleared his throat. Again. Their powerful nostrils smelt virtually nothing but gasoline evaporating on Kart’s skin.

After a few more minutes of driving and one or two more flinches and clearings of throats, Kart growled and slipped the tight shell off his head as he wound down the window more. “Here, hold this, will you?” he spoke gruffly, turning around and thrusting the shell to Ark. “And don’t eat it!”

Ark took it, and held it in his lap, slouching more than he did before. “Gasoline poisoning’s better than a KBT cell,” he muttered in Pandoran.

“This car smells like an oil refinery,” Kart hissed.

Ark looked down at the shell, occasionally drumming his fingers over it. “You only realise now,” he sighed quietly in his native tongue.

Lich turned to look at him, a rebuke quickly fading on his lips. What was the point? An argument would only set Kart off, and Kampagnie would–

“It’s my fault,” Kampagnie sighed.

He would do that, Lich concluded.

“Kam’, no,” Kart snapped at his partner, but not unkindly. “It’s not. Just forget it, and drive.”

“But you liked it.”

“So? It’s a truck. Or was.”

Please, Salamando, Lich offered a silent prayer to the Fire Elemental. Was.

“It got us out of many situations, though, like that time we–”

“Ahem,” Kart spoke, indicating the Yoshies with his eyes.

“You know what I mean, though.”

“And it will get us out of this one. Stop worrying. Drive.”

Kampagnie sighed. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. What about RT4?”

“They should have left by the time we get there.”

“Should,” the young Koopa sighed.

Lich cleared his throat. “If I may interrupt?”

“Go ahead,” Kart grunted.

“You can drop us off anywhere along here; I’ve got a compass and a map and we’ve now got Koopan GPS…”

“You’ll fall into a ditch or off a cliff, or you’ll walk right into a Pokey grove. And, besides, where was the last time you used GPS?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Near Ak’gorak.”

“Military issue?”

“I assume so, seeing as we got it off some Parakoopas.”

Kart grunted. “I’d be surprised if they didn’t lock on to its serial number by now. Don’t forget that you two are wanted criminals and have a price on your head for any information. The KBT will stop at nothing to get their hands on you. Everyone in the intelligence community associates you with the gold tooth, so now that you’re on KBT turf and therefore touchable, you’re fair game. The agent who catches you will probably get a B'kraktgoto'pekttoru First Class medal, and those are highly prized.”

Ark jumped at hearing a familiar word. “Blgkrachhhtogongkrr…what is it again?”

“B’kraktgoto’pekttoru,” Kart repeated.

“Like Telg’s medal?”

Lich slapped his hand to his face and groaned.

“We knew about them, don’t worry,” Kart chuckled. “Yes. I was just saying that if you’re caught by the KBT, the agent will probably get one.”

Ark mouthed a silent “oh” and bowed his head again, studying the shell.

Lich gave his brother a sidelong glare. “Watch your mouth,” he muttered in Pandoran.

Ark nodded.

Lich kept watching him, sliding his hand under a thigh to hide his clenched fist. Why did he bring him along? He was careless and naïve, and…

Or was he? Was this really some sort of ploy? The only person who knew what really went on during Ark’s absence was Ark himself. Was he playing the fool, or was he really a fool?

Who is the fool? Lich asked himself.

Silence reigned over the journey again until they crested the top of a large hill and started to descend into a valley. “We’re nearly there,” Kampagnie breathed.

“There’s a stream down here,” Kart announced. “Follow it up into the hills and you’ll see B’kirik off in the distance.”

“Alright,” Lich spoke. “Thank you very much for your company and for getting us out here, and I’m sorry if we’ve caused you any undue trouble or inconve–”

“Kart! Over there!” Kampagnie shouted, pointing across the valley.

A set of headlights rounded a bend, shone at them, and disappeared.

The Koopa pulled to a halt and turned off the engine.

“What are you–” Ark started.

Kampagnie hushed him, and listened intently. “It’s a…a truck. Mid-sized…six cylinders. Oh…oh no no no…”

“What?”

The engine turned back on and the car stalled as the Koopa rushed. “RT4!”

“What’s–”

“The other patrol!” Kampagnie said, turning the key again as the engine spluttered. “They shouldn’t be in this valley…they must have been sent to investigate the truck!”

“The kilktu’ko transceiver!” Kart swore. “Fungah! Get your head in gear and drive!”

“If it will start, I will!” Kampagnie growled, turning the key again. “Come on, come on…I don’t want roadside assistance!”

With that wish, the car finally roared into life again. They began to speed down the hill. The road was narrow and steep and as Kampagnie swung around a corner, Ark flew into his door; he was sure the ground was far beneath the wheel just then.

“Oh, Elementals,” Ark gasped as he got up. “We’re going to die.”

He took note of the seatbelt Lich was wearing and caught on to the idea very quickly.

“Hold on!” Kampagnie yelled in Yoshian.

“To what?!” Ark replied as he buckled up.

Lich followed Kart’s cool gaze out of the window. The truck’s headlights reflected off a cliff, showing the dark square shadow getting ever closer.

“It’s going to get to the bridge before we do,” Kart announced, an island of calm. “Slow down, Kam’, before you kill us. There’s a big rock coming up. Pull up there.”

Kampagnie took a deep breath and put the brakes on. The big rock in question was at a bend in the road with a clear view for the driver to the bridge down the steep slope below as the car pointed towards it.

“How long are we gonna get to hide here?” the young Koopa asked.

“Long enough for us to change drivers and for me to get the shell back. I’ll need you to get in the back between the Yoshies, Kam’.”

“What are you–”

“Just do it, okay?”

Kart gestured to Ark for the shell and he returned it. The Koopa then jumped out of the car and slammed the door as Kampagnie clambered between Lich and Ark. Kart jumped in the driver’s seat, shut his door, and pulled the seatbelt tight against him as the truck crossed the bridge.

“Remember when we had that hilltop chase?”

“Why?” Kampagnie asked and then gasped. “Oh, no…you’re not gonna…I don’t think the suspension will…”

“What choice do we have?!”

“You’re mad!”

The truck crossed the bridge and turned the corner to climb the hill. There was one hairpin turn on the road between the truck and the car.

“If you’re not buckled up and holding on, do so right now!” Kart commanded in Yoshian. “I will tell you when to leap out when we cross the bridge: jump straight into the water, don’t hesitate! Kampagnie will close the doors behind you. It’s been a pleasure to meet both of you.”

“Let’s hope we don’t die together right now,” Kampagnie gulped as he strapped himself into the middle seat. “Goodbye!”

The truck turned the hairpin bend and began to climb the narrow straight towards them. It spotted them, flashed its headlights, and then put its warning lights on.

“The pleasure’s ours too,” Lich gulped too, not exactly sure of what was about to happen as he gripped the headrest before him tightly.

His answer came very quickly. Kart turned the wheels sharply and soon the front of the car was in mid-air. Gravity took hold a moment later, and with a jarring crunch, the car half-rolled, half-skidded down the hill.

All of the occupants yelled as Kart turned the wheel madly one way and then the other, trying to get the machine to have grip on the gravely descent.

Above them, the patrol truck ground its gears and whined down the hill in reverse like a mechanical banshee, its reversing alarm beeping madly.

Ark bounced in his seat, groaning with each hit. A straggly bush slapped the underside of the car. A rock sent them off leftwards, followed by one sending them back to the right. The world was a blur.

And then with one final thunk they hit the bottom of the slope and the firmness of the road. The truck’s siren screamed like a harpy as it began to execute a three-point turn in the hairpin bend.

Lich pulled the seatbelt off him and grabbed the door handle, opening it slightly. His heart pounded in his ears as he got his feet into position.

“Now!” Kart screamed, and Lich leapt out of the car.

With one bound he was flying off the bridge, cool air rushing past him. Then he was in the water. The current dragged him backwards slowly, jarring and then grazing his shin against a rock. Lich gasped and quickly struggled to the surface, coughing and spluttering. The truck roared over the bridge above him as he grabbed onto a bridge support, his lungs heaving.

“Ark?” he croaked.

He entered another fit of coughing, gripping the wooden post tightly with one hand as the other grabbed his shin. After spitting, he drew another breath.

“Ar-khh!”

This came out as another cough, precipitating another fit. His heart rate started to slow as the coughing passed, and he took a few gasps of air.

“Ark?” he called weakly.

He listened to the siren climb the hill in its pursuit of the Koopas. Satisfied it was going, he clambered around the post and lunged for the bank. He half-walked, half-crawled out, and sat down on the pebbly shore, clutching his shin and observing the gash down it.

“Ark?” he called again.

He withdrew and unwrapped a pink and white lolly and began to eat it, the wound closing.

“Ark?” he asked the air between chews.

Lich swallowed and stood up.

“Ark? They’re gone! You can come out now!”

The water rippled and a cicada sang.

“Ark!”

No answer.

“Ark!”