Chapter 14

Roger’s swimming practice was uneventful Tuesday morning; both Tom and Jessica were safely dressed in their suits and everyone was working hard at trying to improve their times by watching for extraneous movements and keeping their strokes smooth and regular. Roger was putting extra effort into his fly stroke; being the most difficult stroke, a good time would be very productive in swim meets.

After practice, Tom came over to talk as they showered.

“Hey buddy,” Tom said, “thanks for the advice you gave Coach about our wearing suits. I forgot to tell you yesterday. Cirota called us to his office and was making a fuss about him making us to stay on the Program for as long as we practiced and competed with suits—for the rest of the year even—but when Coach came in, he took the Program booklet and showed Cirota the ‘protective’ clothing part. Then Coach said that as the supervising teacher for the activity, he had the duty and right to determine how ‘protection’ should be defined. Cirota had to shut up then.”

“So you think you’ll be okay with the Program for the rest of the week?” Roger asked.

“Yeah, it’s no big deal, like I said yesterday. I’m used to being naked in public—but at my resort, everyone else is nude too, so it’s a weird feeling being naked alone, but it’s not terrible. I hate not being able to cover up when I pop a boner because that’s a pretty big no-no in a lot of nudist circles. It’s like farting at a cocktail party; you get unwanted attention. You’re supposed to cover up or jump in the pool or lake till it goes down, so when it happens here in school, I really feel ashamed, ‘cause that’s what I learned. The other shit, well, I’ll deal with it as it comes, I guess.”

“Wow, I wish I were as brave as you. I still can’t see myself getting naked and walking around school.”

“Me? It’s not brave. The girls are the brave ones; public nudity takes enormous courage for them. Teen girls at nudist resorts are usually the shyest people there, and some of those girls have been going since they were little. Then their body develops and they get concerned about body image stuff. The Program would be okay except for the way the school wants to equate sex with nudity and adds a healthy dose of humiliation to the nudity too; doing that is just terrible.”

The guys finished dressing and left for their home rooms.

Cynthia told Roger after he got settled in home room about the very few kids undressing in front of the school that morning.

“Out of thirty kids who were supposed to be there, only three showed up. Mike and Mary and another boy.”

“Tom and Jessica are on the swim team.”

“Oh, right, so there are five, I guess. I wonder what’s gonna happen next, if so few kids do the Program—what can the officials do about it?”

“Well, it’s like a chess match, I guess,” Roger said slowly. “They make a move, we counter, it goes like that. So far it’s a draw; neither side has an advantage. Hope it stays that way.”

In Anatomy, the class was now beginning the muscular system, and the three teens were fascinated by the physiological processes that produce muscle movement. They listened and watched raptly to the movie that showed how cellular processes produced the energy that allowed the bundled actin and myosin molecules to stretch and contract in unison, producing movement. It reminded Roger and Cynthia of a well-trained team working together to win a game. Soon the class was over and Ayame left the twins to go to her civics class. Michelle greeted her.

“Wait till you hear what happened in first period. Tell you after class,” Michelle said as they sat down and the class started.

A few minutes into the class, the PA system came on. “Teachers, please send your first period attendance reports to the office; we need that info now. Just the first period report. Thank you.”

The teacher pulled some pages out of his briefcase, flipped through them, selected one, and put it into an envelope. He looked at the class.

“Michelle, you’re next to the door so you’re elected. Could you please deliver this to the office? Thanks.”

Michelle took the envelope and left the room. As she walked down the hall, a man in a dark sport jacket passed her and went into her classroom.

“Strange,” she thought. “Not a teacher ... should he be here?” She was still sensitive to the rent-a-cop incident of the prior week.

Then as she got closer to the office, she saw another dark-jacketed man pulling a student toward the main entrance. The student was objecting but was reluctantly allowing herself to be led to the door. Michelle was getting a bad feeling about what she was seeing, so she rushed into the office, dropped off the envelope, and started to hurry back to her class.

On her way back from the office, as she passed by a side corridor, Michelle heard voices coming from the corridor, a girl’s panicked cries. She ran to the corner of the corridor’s intersection and saw the guy, whom she had seen going into her classroom earlier, pulling a struggling Ayame toward the door leading outside at the corridor’s end. She pulled out her phone to call Roger and suddenly realized that she wasn’t very far from the twins’ economics classroom so she dashed to it, flung the door open, and ran inside.

“Come quick!” she gasped. “They’re dragging Ayame out the C wing door!” She turned and ran back toward C wing to see if she could help Ayame.

Roger instantly leaped out of his seat; he was seated close to the door so he was there in a flash.

“Cyn, they’ve got Ayame! I’m going!” he shouted as he ran out of the class. “Come quick!”

The teacher called, “Stop!” and ran to the door after him.

“Wait, Rog,” Cynthia called.

“Can’t wait, I need to catch them. Hurry!” he called from the hall as he ran toward C wing, passing a running Michelle a few dozen feet before the building doors.

Cynthia began following him out of the room but the teacher blocked her from getting to the door. Actually, he tried to block her. She managed to hold his arms and twist herself around him; then she dashed out of the room and ran smack into Tom, who was returning from delivering his teacher’s attendance report. A stark-naked Tom.

“Ugh! What happened?” he gasped as the two of them untangled themselves and climbed to their feet.

“Trying to catch up with my bro! Ayame’s being kidnapped! You have a car? I may need you!”

“Like this?” he exclaimed as he rushed along with her. “Naked?”

“Yeah, like any way you can!”

They ran to the C wing door; it opened facing the student parking area so Cynthia was able to see at once that Roger’s car was already pulling out of the parking area.

Michelle was standing outside, helplessly watching the departing car. “Hurry, Cindy,” she implored, “please catch them! They have her in a black car!”

“Tom—can you follow—oh, no! No keys!” Cynthia exclaimed, crestfallen.

“Not a problem,” Tom shouted, “Let’s go!” and he raced off toward his car. She followed. When he got there, he quickly pulled a little magnetic box out from under his bumper. “Backup key. Be prepared!”

They jumped into the car and took off, a little more than a minute behind Roger.

“How do we know where they’re going?” Tom asked as he floored the accelerator, trying to catch Roger’s dark green car he could see moving away in the distance.

“Ayame has a tracking app on her phone. Hope it’s on. I’m calling Rog.”

Cynthia called Roger’s phone and he answered after several rings. Roger had his car’s bluetooth on and Cynthia’s call came in.

“Rog, I’m with Tom and we’re behind you about a minute or so.”

“Cyn, I’m on my cell with Ayame. Listen quick. Call 911 and Dad; it’s a kidnapping. Her tracking app is on and they’re maybe a half mile ahead on 76 headed for 15, I think. It’s black, a four door. Ayame’s locked in the back. She can hear me. Ayame, call Cindy and talk. I can’t talk now, I need to catch you.”

Cynthia texted her father, “Ayame kidnapped on 76 toward 15 Roger chasing.”

Then she called 911. “A student was just kidnapped from Ocean Valley High; we’re following the student and have limited phone contact. We’re on Rte 76 headed toward I 15. I can’t stay on; I need to talk her and will give updates if I can.”

She got off and switched over to Ayame’s call which had just come in. Ayame began talking in Japanese.

“On my tiny phone. They don’t know I have it. Please come get me, I’m so scared,” her whispered voice came through.

“I’m getting your location now, Ayame ... Okay, we’re getting closer; I see Roger’s car ... Okay, now I can see a black car ahead of Roger ... He’s right behind it now.”

Cynthia watched as Roger pulled around the black car and then cut in front of it, forcing it off the road onto the shoulder near the beginning of a guardrail cable, about 50 feet away from a dry creek bed.

“Tom! Pull in back of them and block that car so they can’t back out!” she cried as she saw the black car jerk into reverse and its wheels spin, throwing up a cloud of dust.

Tom pulled in back of the car, his horn blaring, and stopped, his car angled so that the black car was trapped off the road on its shoulder. He sat back, exhaling in relief. “Whuff, that was close!”

Cynthia exclaimed, “You need to stay in the car. Don’t be a hero; Roger and I can take care of this. Get on my phone to 911 and tell them what’s happening.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna get involved like I’m dressed, right.” Tom muttered.

Tom took Cynthia’s phone from her and dialed 911 as he watched Roger jump out of his car. Cynthia was already out the door and advancing on the black car from behind it, as two men emerged and the driver came around the front of the car toward Roger.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, kid?” he yelled at Roger.

“You kidnapped a girl. Let her out.” Roger called to him.

“We’re federal agents. Get out of our way or we’ll arrest you.”

Cynthia came up from their other side. “Open the car door and let the girl out now,” she demanded.

Suddenly the driver pulled a handgun. “The hell we will.”

Roger said, “kidnapping and pulling a gun on some kids? Federal agents? Sure you are.”

Meanwhile Cynthia had walked up closer to the unarmed man who was standing between her and the man with the pistol.

“Jeff, don’t block her,” the armed man called. “You’re in the line of fire.”

“That’s okay, it’s just a girl. I’ll grab her. We’ll use her as a hostage and make them let us leave,” he said as he reached to grab Cynthia, intending to twist her around and pin her arms.

Cynthia broke his grip with her forearms, grasped his jacket by the shoulders, turned her torso and bent slightly for leverage, hauled his body up over her back and shoulder, and heaved him away. The momentum of her shoulder throw hurled the man toward the armed man. A shot rang out and the armed man went down hard as the body of his comrade slammed him in the chest.

Just as the man had attempted to grab Cynthia, a MP vehicle had pulled up from one direction and a state police vehicle from the other. As the shot sounded, the two vehicles skidded to a halt and three police officials jumped out of their cars, guns drawn, two MPs from one vehicle and a state trooper from the other.

“We heard a shot,” one MP called. “Down on the ground, you two!”

Roger and Cynthia dropped to the ground. Cynthia called out, “One of those guys had a gun and it went off. They kidnapped the girl in the car.”

An MP called, “Is that the Denison kids?”

Roger called back, “Yes!”

“Okay, please stay down where you are and don’t move yet; I don’t see those guys moving at all. Hey, trooper! Are they moving?”

“No, I’m working in closer. No movement,” he called as he crept in, keeping close to the ground

Cynthia called, “They’re both not moving at all. Oh! I see blood! Oh, he must have been shot! The one on top has blood all over his front.”

The trooper slipped up to the downed men cautiously and looked.

“Okay, Marines, it’s clear. One took a round through his chest. From the amount of blood here, it hit a major vessel. The other’s out cold.” He turned to Cynthia. “I saw you throw that guy. What happened?”