The Money Trees — Part 2

This is a link part one, in case you’ve found this one first.

(Before note: I want to make it clear that Jack and Amy are home alone. They have parents, but they’re away for the weekend or something.)

— Jack whipped his car into the driveway, almost slamming into Tyler’s car. He floored the brakes just in time. The tires squalled and he was barely stopped before he’d kicked the door open and run up to the house.

He threw the front door open and dashed inside. Tyler was standing in the kitchen, helping himself to an apple. “Where were you? Amy was worried sick.”

Ignoring her stupid boyfriend, he ran up the stairs two at a time. He skidded around the corner to Amy’s room and barged in. “Amy, you won’t believe-”

She screamed and ducked into the closet. “Jack, I’m glad you’re okay, but I am changing.” Her muffled voice came from behind the closed door.

“Amy, look.”

“Is everything alright up there?” Tyler called up the stairs.

“It’s fine!” Amy yelled from inside the closet. “I’ll be down soon.” Then quieter, she said. “Later Jack. Why don’t you go hang out with Tyler for now.”

“I don’t want to hang out with Tyler, Amy. Just look,” he said, shrugging his bag off onto the floor. “The money was growing on the trees, just like apples.”

“That’s great Jack.” He could tell she didn’t believe him. “Mom and Dad said we could order a pizza one night. Do you want that tonight or we could do it tomorrow and eat leftovers. I’m not cooking.” She came out of the closet.

“Amy,”

“Jack,” she said, exasperated. “Later. Come on. I’m gonna go say goodnight to Tyler and you need to move your car if you’ve blocked him in. You can tell me all about the money that grown on the trees and the unicorns that eat them later.” She made to walk past him, but Jack dumped the hundreds of bills at her feet.

Amy stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, mouth open. She stared several seconds in silence before finally, in a shaky voice, she said. “Where did you get that?”

In response, he grabbed one of the pods, cracked it but left it closed, and handed it to her.

She opened it and stared dumbly as another $2000 fluttered down and joined the pile on the floor. “Jack?”

He told her the whole story, getting lost after dark, seeing the lights, watching the strange people, picking the pods and running. At least he knew now why they were so mad about him taking them.

Amy stared at him a long while after, not knowing what to say, staring down at the pile of money at her feet. Jack just wished she would say something. She was starting to scare him.

“Amy?” Tyler’s voice came from right behind him. Both Jack’s and Amy’s heads whipped up at the sound.

Tyler stood in the doorway to Amy’s room, wearing a similar expression, eyes wide, staring at the thousands of dollars on the floor. With difficulty, he looked back up at her. “The um.” His eyes kept flickering back and forth. “The police are downstairs. They, uh, they want to talk to Jack.”

Jack felt that feeling again, that he should start running and never stop. He looked up at Amy, silently asking her what he should do. She wasn’t looking at him.

She was already at the window, pulling out her phone to call their parents while she looked down at the driveway.

Jack joined her. Down in the driveway were a dozen men standing around a police car and a big white van.

She held the phone up to her ear, waiting for their parents to pick up.. “Go downstairs with Tyler,” she told him. “Don’t go outside with them. I’ll hide the bag.” She was already moving to scoop all the money back into the bag. When Jack hesitated, she said, “Go!”

As he walked toward out toward the stairs with Tyler, he heard her from behind. “Dad?”

Her voice faded as he and Tyler stepped down into the living room. A hulking officer stood by their front door. His arms were crossed, as if he were guarding it.

Jack risked a quick glance at the back door in the kitchen. Sure enough, another officer stood in the same position. But they both ignored him.

“Over here kid.”

Jack followed the voice to a lanky man in a suit sprawled across his living room couch. The man beckoned him over, inviting him to sit down in his own house. It was a strange feeling. He joined the lanky man, but he sat on the edge of the seat, ready to spring up at any moment.

“So,” the man said. “Your Jack Spotter.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

“You can call me Mr. Allen.” Mr. Allen shifted around in his seat to a more comfortable position as he pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times and held it up for Jack to see. “You were seen fleeing Beckett Spring State Park earlier this evening, 9:32 PM.”

There was indeed video. His face was blurry, his license plates illegible, but Jack knew it was him. He tried not to sweat. He hoped the situation would be considered strenuous enough that his sweating wouldn’t be taken as a sign that it was him.

Mr. Allen continued. “You will go find what you took and you will come with us.”

What! Doesn’t this stuff only happen in the movies? Jack nearly jumped out of his skin as Tyler placed his hand on his shoulder. Apparently he had watched the video too, over Jack’s shoulder.

“Hang on a second,” Tyler said. “That man in the video is very blurry. You can’t see his face. You can’t even make out his license plate. How can you be sure it’s Jack.”

Oh thank God for you Tyler, was Jack’s only thought. He might just have to stop referring to him as Amy’s stupid boyfriend after this.

But Mr. Allen wasn’t through yet. He tapped the screen a few more times and showed them what looked like a radar. Each blink of the light signaled a strange pinging sensation in Jack’s right leg.

Mr. Allen’s next words were directed right at Jack. “The tracker we shot into your calf led us right to you. You’re coming with us.”

He looked down in horror at the back of his leg. A little pulsing blue light blinked on his right calf. And while he was distracted, Mr. Allen locked his wrists in handcuffs. Before he knew it, he was being dragged right out of his front door.

—

Here’s the end of part 2. Part 3 should be here next week, unless final tests get in the way. Last week of school. Here we go! (And then I start college)

(Here’s Part 3)