The Millennial Box by Julie Steimle (rainbow fish read aloud TXT) 📕

took it?" she asked.

The other side grumbled again, but responded just as plainly. <<It was stolen.>>

Zormna tapped the table in impatience, her voice tightening. "And do you know who stole it?"

They deliberated again, this time speaking in an ashamed sigh. <<No. And we're sorry. We never should have let it out of our hands.>>

"They don't know where it is?" Jeff asked, looking down at her.

She half-shrugged.

<<No, we don't. Who is this guy, Alea? What is he doing there with you?>>

Zormna rolled her eyes. "That's top secret." Pausing, she added, "Alea Kiir, can you get into NASA's files for us? We need to know all those that handled the box, from the beginning to when the FBI took it. Got it?"

The other side grumbled resignedly. <<Got it, Zeta Thirteen.>>

"We'll come and pick that up," she said. "Sign off."

<<NASA zero zero signing off.>>

Zormna turned around.

"What do you mean we'll come and pick that up?" Jeff snapped. "Zormna, shuttles from space land at Cape Canaveral. That is in Florida. We can't just - "

But he stopped. She just stared at him like a kid that really did know what she was doing and was just waiting for him to see that it was the only option. She then rose from her seat.

"I'll have to go to detention on Saturday, but we can leave right after, maybe take your truck or something. Take cash, pack a few meals," she said.

Jeff shook his head. "If you're going to be so pig-headed, why don't we just take your convertible and have the FBI follow us down there?"

Glaring at him, Zormna marched to the door. "If you aren't going to be any help, I'll go by myself. One way or the other I'm going to find that satellite and those that stole it, with or without you."

Sighing, Jeff tromped after her. "All right! All right. But I'm going to plan how we get there."

He could see everyone in the room staring at him. Jeff felt his face burn. He opened the door for Zormna to let her out. Not that she was waiting for him, but that if they were to leave, he would rather they left together so they could at least clear up the sticky details.

"Fine," Zormna said, walking through the open doorway. "You plan the trip, so we won't get followed - though I really don't see why we should bother since we'll probably meet up with the FBI sooner or later anyway." Seeing his look, she shook her head and marched through the house toward the front door. "After all, it isn't until after the FBI had the box that they were shot and it was stolen."

As logical as it sounded, it did not change Jeff's mind. "Yeah, yeah, but until then, who is to say they won't try to stop us from finding it if we went off half-cocked?"

She glared at him. Opening the front door, she said, "Alright. Then I'll get my car ready and we can - "

Jeff shook his head. "I'm planning the trip, remember?"

Looking the other way and folding her arms, Zormna snapped, though not as harshly as she would have, "Ok, ok, fine. Am I allowed to get a map or food, or do anything then?"

Jeff saw now what she was feeling. It was the same old you-are-doing-things-your-way-and-leaving-me-out-again bit. She hated that. He looked at her and tried not to sound so controlling. "I think, Zormna, that it would be best if I just took care of it all. You know, so you wouldn't look suspicious."

Zormna scowled and flung the front door open. "Fine!"

She tromped down the steps and marched with clenched fists back to her neighborhood.

He closed his eyes and shook his head once again. Before closing the door, he glanced across the street at the regularly stationed FBI car. He caught a laugh in his chest and shut the door behind him, wondering how much of the conversation they managed to record. His household had done much around their home to scramble any electronic recording, which included playing music almost non-stop as interference. The agents regularly looked miffed, so he assumed they didn't get much.

 

 

[1] <<Yes, L.I. - I think we can move the canisters into cavern sixty three but storing them there for any long period of time might be a problem.>>

[2] "How about for three weeks, at least until we have space between levels one ninety and one eighty nine?"

[3] <<Maybe three weeks, but that is definitely pushing it.>>

[4] "Do it. L.I. out."

Chapter Four: Biker Jackets

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"The more that is left to chance, the less chance there is for success." - anon -

 

 

It was in a musty bar laced with cigarette smoke and the clinks of glasses and cue balls that they first met. He was a tracker with a reputation for finding unfindable things. Agent Sicamore sat across from him, sipping a black coffee and stabbing the butt of his fifth cigarette into the ashtray. Circles had imbedded under the FBI agent's eyes. His pale skin had gone sick gray from overwork. His hair was still perfectly straight and even, and in his suit he stood out in the bar. His associate, Marc, had recommended this meeting.

"So, this thing that was stolen, is it valuable?" the burnt tan and bristly chinned man asked, balancing a glass of Coke between his fingers.

Agent Sicamore nodded. "But not in cash."

"And you already questioned the usual suspects?" the man asked, eyeing Sicamore's fingers as the agent pulled out yet another cigarette.

The FBI agent nodded. He tossed over one of the photographs of Jeff Streigle. It was crinkled as Sicamore had crumpled it in a fit of rage more than once.

"This boy?" the man asked, peering at the picture. Jeff was in a Pennington High wrestling camp shirt. It had been taken at camp. His eyes were smiling in the photograph, but with his scars it only made him look like he was out for trouble.

Sicamore nodded again. "Except I don't think he personally did it."

The tracker looked up. "Why is this kid a suspect?"

Agent Sicamore sucked on his cigarette in thought then let out a long shivered breath of air. "He's involved in a covert organization that has blocked a federal investigation. This is related case."

"Has he killed anyone before?" the tracker asked.

Sicamore shook his head. "I don't know." Pausing, "Possibly." He then mashed down the cigarette without using the rest. "The thing is he would have wanted to steal what we were shipping, if he knew it existed." He then added ruefully, "However, I don't think he knew about it. The look on his face.... Either he is a clever liar, or he really didn't know what he was in for."

The other man nodded. "So, you think it was stolen by someone else."

Agent Sicamore nodded. "Has to be."

The tracker stood up. "All right. I've never taken a job the FBI couldn't figure out, but there are firsts for everything."

The FBI agent lifted his eyes to him in hope. "This is in cooperation with us, of course. You know that, right?"

The tracker nodded.  "We should start at the beginning, of course. NASA."

Zormna's last hours of detention, sitting in the school library in sheer boredom writing an insipid paper about the importance of school attendance, cut to a pleasant close at four o'clock. The vice principal stepped in with a stern look on his face and cleared his throat to announce his presence. The other detainees looked up, some wiping drool from their cheeks and the corners of their mouths, bleary-eyed from their long naps, others with their glares and cracking knuckles that said they would probably be in detention the next week too. It had been such a waste of time.

"You may go," Mr. Vicksler said. His tone ground out distaste at seeing any one of them too soon.

The detention monitor collected the various essays and assignments with a silent nod, a rather unpleasant job to say the least. Zormna rolled her eyes and handed in her essay with the rest of them. The monitor smirked at her when he took it from her. It was twelve pages long. She had actually asked for more paper when she wrote it.

Zormna passed the vice principal out the doors. He gave her an extra pitying glance as she went by. She did not let herself get intimidated by it nor feel guilt because of it. She just kept on walking until she reached the school parking lot where she expected to see Jeff and his truck.

Nothing.

The parking lot was empty.

Scowling, she sat down on the curb.

Either he was late or he forgot, trying to restrain her from going to NASA as she had planned. Zormna growled to herself. He was just being spiteful. But then she wondered: he would not leave without her, would he? A nervous tremor ran through her. Jeff might, knowing him. He had a weird idea about protecting her.

Zormna stood up. Deciding to march home and get the convertible (that she owned but Jennifer was legally allowed to drive as Zormna was only fifteen and without a driver's permit) as she had originally planned, she started into the parking lot. Just as she crossed two parking spaces, her cell phone (the one she had just gotten for her birthday) began to ring.

Annoyed, yet somehow relieved, she stopped and pulled it out of her book bag. She folded it open and pushed the button. "Hello?"

<<It's Big Z.>>

Zormna rolled her eyes at the ridiculous code name he used in the rebellion.

<<Don't go across the parking lot. Wait a few more minutes and catch a ride with Brian to the mall. They're going to the movies. Insist you don't want to see anything once you get there and find a way into the JC Penny lingerie section. Wait there until I call,>> he said.

"Wha - ?"

Jeff hung up before she could protest.

Zormna was about to fling herself home anyway in spite of his instructions, but Brian and friends had just veered into the parking lot with a particularly loud screech. Adam Arbor was with them this time. "Hey Zormna! We're going to the movies, you want to come?"

Sighing, she took in their hope-filled faces and decided to play along. "Sure."

She jogged toward the truck. Adam stepped down to pull her in the back with Mark and him. Zormna glanced around. "Where's Jeff?"

Mark laughed. "Funny you should ask. He said he had to go to work at the auto shop and wouldn't be able to come, but he said you'd be overjoyed with a break after sitting in detention six hours."

Zormna smirked. Nodding to herself, she could see the way Jeff's mind was working. They were still going.

      

The FBI car that sat in the school lot kept a fair distance behind Brian's truck. Zormna did not hesitate to point them out on the road to Adam and Mark, who both were immediately disturbed at their persistence. When they reached the mall and climbed out of the truck, the trailing agents also parked and moved to go after them. By that time, Mark had pointed them out to Brian and Jonathan. Laughing, they rushed