Chapter 1: Getting There is Half The Fun

Judy Bondi dropped the checklist she'd been working from on her bed and patted her backpack fondly. With practiced motions she cinched her sleeping bag to the bottom rail of the backpack and then grinned broadly.

It had been more than a year and a half since Judy had last gone camping with her brother. She remembered everything he had taught her as if she had learned it only yesterday. Carl would be proud of his little sister!

She swung the pack off her bed and leaned it against the wall by the door to the hall, then went to her desk to pick up the knife her brother had given her when he'd been home on leave over Thanksgiving. Judy pulled it from its sheath and stared at the long blade.

Her brother had told Judy it was a hunting knife, something she would find useful when she was camping. The knife had an eight-inch blade with a wicked look about it. Judy was sure it was really some sort of combat knife. About what you'd expect from someone who was now a Marine buck sergeant after just a year and a half of service in the Marines.

Judy sighed. The problem was that her brother had gone back to Vietnam, to a place called Khe Sahn, where, according to the nightly news, a lot of fighting was going on. All she could do was pray her brother kept safe, but in Vietnam in the spring of 1967, that was a lot to hope for.

Outside her room Judy saw the hall light snap off in the hall as her dad headed towards his bedroom. Judy's mind wandered along corridors of the past, the present and the future.

Once upon a time, hers had been a happy family. Her dad had been a gruff Italian bear, all noise and no bite. Mom had loved her children whole-heartedly, making them the centerpiece of her life. Not that the galloping liver cancer that had killed her in six brief months had cared at all what sort of mother she'd been to her children.

Ever since, day-by-day, Judy's father had changed. Gene Bondi was still bear-like and grumpy, but it wasn't pretend or for fun any more. He was like a bear with a sore foot; a bear that you wanted to be very careful you didn't rile.

Her father had driven her brother Carl out -- that was the bottom line. Carl had planned on going to Arizona State after high school and studying chemistry. Except Carl looked their father in the eyes and decided that living at home wasn't an option, so Carl had gone straight from high school to the Marines.

Sure, Carl had big plans for when he finished his tour. Carl planned on going to college on the GI Bill, where he could afford his own apartment. Where he could have his own life, away from the negative influence of their father.

Judy slipped the knife into her pack before turning off her own light.

Tomorrow, Mr. MacGregor, her eighth grade teacher, was going to take some of his class to the desert, staying over Friday and Saturday nights.

They had done something like this back in November. Judy remembered that it had been fun, a lot of fun. It had snowed the day before they had gone up to the high country. There were two or three inches of the foreign white stuff on the ground where they parked. Three of Judy's classmates had never seen snow before except in pictures. The group had hiked six miles deeper and two thousand feet higher into the mountains and camped in snow that was six to nine inches deep. Judy had reveled in the moans and groans of complaint from the others!

Now it was the first week of April; they weren't very likely to see snow this time! In fact, it was likely to be in the mid-90's all weekend long, and it was possible the temperature could reach into triple digits. Judy crooked a small smile, thinking about it. Likely there would be even more complaints this time, but none of them would be from her. Carl had done a good job teaching her to camp; Judy's parents had, too, before her mom got sick.

Judy closed her eyes, willing herself to get some sleep. Instead, Mr. MacGregor popped into her mind. At five ten, Judy was taller than just about everyone in her class, but standing next to Mr. MacGregor brought her back into perspective. Her teacher stood six four, weighed two hundred pounds and was tough as nails. He was all muscle.

Mr. MacGregor had been an Army master sergeant, even though he wasn't much more than thirty. He'd been in Vietnam too, just like her brother. He had been a Green Beret medic; he liked to tell funny stories around the campfire about life in the army. Mr. MacGregor also taught Outward Bound in the summer; he was someone who'd done a lot of exciting things in his life.

Judy had watched Mr. MacGregor last fall, coming down the mountain with his cousin, after everyone else who'd been hiking with them had called it quits. The two adults had climbed all the way to the top of the ridge and were running back, taking huge leaps and bounds through the snow. It had taken them four hours to climb up to the top of the ridge, less than twenty minutes to come back down. He'd had fun; she had seen it in his face, afterwards. Fun! Imagine, an eighth grade teacher who could have fun!

For this trip, he'd told them, he had a special treat for the class. His old commander from Vietnam, a man who'd twice saved his life, was going to come along. A man who, Mr. MacGregor said, should have gotten a lot more than a lousy Silver Star for the last time he'd saved him, because he'd saved a whole lot of others at the same time. Most importantly, Mr. MacGregor's friend had grown up in Arizona and knew everything there was to know about desert survival, and it would be very educational for them to hear him talk about it.

Judy tried to picture what sort of a man it would take to make Mr. MacGregor's eyes light up with pleasure and gratitude as they had when he talked about his friend. She was still thinking about Mr. MacGregor when her thoughts faded to dreams.

At lunch the next day, Judy sat in her usual spot in the cafeteria, off to one side. She took out her bag lunch and a book to read from her book bag.

Her friend, Becky Tomasino, joined her almost at once. Becky had the same long black hair as Judy, the same brown eyes and brown skin. Becky was four inches shorter than Judy, and was maybe thirty pounds lighter.

"This is going to be so much fun this weekend!" Becky said, her eyes bright.

Judy smiled and nodded.

A third girl joined them, Lydia Valenzuela. Lydia had the same black hair and brown eyes of her friends, but she was shorter than Becky and built a little heavier than Judy. Lydia didn't smile much and didn't then.

"What are you reading, Judy?" Lydia asked. Lydia might not smile much, but she was as curious as any cat.

Judy held up Andre Norton's "Sea Siege". Lydia held out her hand, and Judy handed it over to her.

"Wow," Lydia exclaimed after a second. "World War III and denizens of the deep! All in one!"

Judy nodded in agreement. "And last week," Lydia went on, "it was Farnham's Freehold. World War III again."

Judy smiled at that. "You should read it. Robert Heinlein is a very good writer."

Lydia shook her head. "Last night, we went to visit my grandfather in the hospital. He told me that he wanted me to have his guitar and he made grandmother bring it. He gave it to me, and then made me play a couple of pieces. Rodrigo." Lydia cast her eyes heavenward. "Those are really, really hard!"

Judy could only nod. She loved to read books; Lydia loved music. Lydia's grandfather was dying of cancer, just like Judy's mother had... only much more slowly. Judy hadn't much interest in reading when her mother had been sick. Nor had she found anything to smile about at the time. It's hard to see someone you love waste away to nothing and die.

"Hah! I read the history assignment!" Becky laughed. "You two..." Becky was shaking her head in mock anger.

Becky was practical and pragmatic.

"I did that two days ago," Lydia replied, mildly aggrieved.

Judy didn't say anything. She'd read the entire American history book once in the fall, read this particular assignment a couple of weeks before and again the previous weekend. This wasn't so much an old discussion, as an old joke between them.

It's hard to understand what draws people together, Judy thought. Becky was Italian, too, although in her case, both of her parents were actually Italian. Only Judy's father's parents had come from Italy, her mother had been from Hoboken, New Jersey.

Lydia's parents, both of them, had been born in Mexico and had come to the United States when they were young.

Three girls, friends since they could remember in school. All three had long black hair and brown eyes; all three wore their hair braided down their backs. They had been friendly rivals for years to see who could grow it the longest. To see who could read the most books and who could get the best grades in school.

Judy was certain that she couldn't have better friends in the world. She knew it because at one time or another, both Becky and Lydia had helped Judy with her hair after Judy's mother died. Long hair, particularly braided, takes a lot of time and effort to keep clean and brushed; it wouldn't have been possible without help from her friends.

"You looking forward to the weekend, Judy?" Lydia asked.

"A lot," Judy admitted to her friends, and then grinned. "I packed a lot of books."

"Not a single school book, I bet!" Becky said gleefully.

"Not a single one," Judy agreed.

"Not me!" Becky exclaimed! "I'm taking my history book!"

"I'm bringing my American literature book," Lydia said.

The other two fell to eating their own brown bag lunches. Judy marked the place in her book and joined the conversation. There will be, Judy thought, plenty of time to read over the weekend. Lunch ended and the three of them headed back to Mr. MacGregor's classroom to finish out the day.

The last bell rang and almost everyone was up and out of their seats; the usual Friday afternoon rush to start on the weekend. Judy sat still, waiting for the rush to get past. She saw Mr. MacGregor give her a small smile and a nod.

Judy knew that more than one girl in her class would get all dreamy-eyed if Mr. MacGregor were to nod at them. Judy, on the other hand, was tolerably sure that Mr. MacGregor was aware of how much respect she held him in.

"It wouldn't hurt to go now anyway," Mr. MacGregor said and laughed, reading her mind. "Tuck is very punctual; he expects it of everyone else, too."

Judy nodded, got up and walked to the back of the room and simply lifted her pack easily, swung it over her shoulder and onto her back. A few feet away, Judy saw Lydia shoulder a much smaller back pack, one without a frame, then pick up a guitar case.

Becky's pack was nearly as large as Judy's. "I am ready," Becky said firmly.

"You have your box?" Judy asked.

"Of course. I never let it get far away."

Becky's box was famous, had been since about third grade. Need something? See Becky. Scissors, glue, paper, pencils, string, pins, needles, thread, pliers, bobby pins, clothes pins; whatever you needed, Becky would have it.

Mr. MacGregor, when he needed something, would turn to Becky and say, "Does Miss Practical have... ?" and name what he needed. Becky was still afraid someone was going to start using that as her nickname, but Judy didn't think it would be a problem. It was too long, if nothing else.

Sarah Flowers, the other girl from the class that was going, was a few feet away, trying to pick up everything she'd brought along at once -- and failing.

Seeing Judy standing with her hands free, Sarah promptly handed Judy her sleeping bag. "Would you carry this out for me, Judy? Thanks." Sarah had instantly turned away, dealing with another minor crisis, without waiting for an answer.

Sarah was about five six; blonde and fair as the other girls were dark. She was wearing shorts and a thin, dark-colored blouse.

Judy smiled to herself. You will, Sarah, hear from Mr. MacGregor before the evening is out. You will learn a lot about how to pack a backpack, and then you will hear about what to wear when you go out into the desert.

Judy's eyes strayed to Sarah's mother, a few feet away from her daughter, her gear in equal disarray. It will be worth the price of admission to see what Mr. MacGregor says to you, lady.Sarah's mother was, at least, wearing jeans, but she was going to find walking in the desert exciting, wearing open-toed sandals, leather or not.

Becky also glanced at Mrs. Flowers and gave Judy a wry grin. Judy shrugged, but with a small smile. Both of her friends saw her expression and grinned too.

The three of them were always talking about things between themselves. Things like what sort of clothes to wear in the desert, what they should bring along for the weekend. If they weren't sure, none of them was shy about asking each other questions. In Judy's opinion, some things were a lot nicer learned in a classroom or sitting, talking on the phone.

Judy turned and led the way out the door, walking towards the parking lot about two hundred yards away, Becky and Lydia trailing her. Much further behind were Sarah and her mother. Mr. MacGregor was still back in the room, trying to help one of the boys reduce what he was going to bring along, although he was finishing up.

There was no doubt in her mind which vehicle she was looking for. It was a van with a sign on the driver's door that said "VALLEY STUD." There was a man with one boot heel on the front bumper, leaning back against the hood, a Stetson pulled down over his eyes. He was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved blue-checked shirt. When Judy got closer she saw it was just a plain shirt, not a western shirt -- there were no snaps, no fancy decorations around the pockets.

Judy stopped a few feet away from him, wondering what she should do. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Mr. MacGregor coming, trailed by a line of others. Becky and Lydia weren't far off; there was another girl Judy didn't recognize, with Sarah and her mother, still further back. Mr. MacGregor was walking quickly towards Judy.

"Tuck," Mr. MacGregor said when he got closer, "isn't like me. You get in Dutch with me if you don't do your homework. Tuck doesn't like people who are late." Mr. MacGregor waved at Tuck. "You'll notice Tuck can sleep standing up, on a hot Arizona afternoon, wearing long sleeves."

"At least," the man said, pushing up his hat, "I don't suffer from gas."

Judy considered Mr. Tucker for a few seconds. He was easily the most unremarkable person she had ever seen. He was about five eight, maybe 140 pounds, clear blue eyes. He didn't have a beak nose like she and Becky did, his nose wasn't even as large as Lydia's. His lips were thin; his brown hair was crew cut. He looked like some middle manager at the Western Electric plant where her dad worked.

"Which of you gets to ride in luxury and comfort?" Mr. Tucker asked. He looked at them, then at Mr. MacGregor. "Let me guess how the numbers work, Mac. Five guys and you. Six women and me."

"The air conditioning is busted in the Travel-All," Mr. MacGregor averred.

"So ladies, if you would, let's load up," Mr. Tucker told them.

He walked around the back of his van, opened the double doors at the rear and stepped back out of the way. Judy was right behind him, putting her pack down next to another pack frame, already there. There was a long canvas bag that Judy thought was a large tent, plus some plastic milk crates with things in them as well.

When Sarah loaded her pack, Judy handed her the sleeping bag. Sarah just dumped it next to her own pack and then walked around the side of the big van.

It took a while, but finally they were on the road, following Mr. MacGregor's very large car. Judy was curious about a number of things, things that she'd seen, things she'd inferred.

Mrs. Flowers had simply claimed the front passenger seat; Judy wasn't surprised, but was curious about the fact that Mrs. Flowers and Mr. Tucker barely exchanged any words.

Lydia had gotten into the middle seat, between the window and Sarah Flowers. Judy was sitting in the middle of the back seat, the stranger to her left, Becky to her right. It was fair, Judy thought, for her to get the middle. Normally she got a window seat, because as tall as she was, her knees would collide with the ceiling of any car she was in, if she sat in the middle. But there was no hump down the middle of the van, so it made no difference where she sat.

Judy cast a mild glare towards Mrs. Flowers. Lydia should be sitting where you are. Lydia gets carsick; she can't sit in the back seat of a car at all. The middle was going be a trial for her, but she could probably get by. She does just fine sitting up front. Too bad you never bothered to ask.

And, speaking of talking, the stranger sitting next to Judy wasn't doing any of it either. The girl was a very large question mark in Judy's mind. She was nearly as tall as Judy and was probably twenty pounds heavier than Judy. Not fat, but much further into the 'chunky' class of girl.

The real surprise was that Judy had absolutely no idea who the girl was. Not a clue. The girl said absolutely nothing, did nothing but stare straight ahead, not even bothering to look out the window. There was even less expression in the stranger's face than on Lydia's.

Plus, the girl's hip had brushed against Judy's. Judy pretended that nothing had happened, but unless Judy was very mistaken, the girl had a very large knife in her jeans pocket.

Then there was Mr. MacGregor's friend, who was driving. She'd been curious about him since the first time Mr. MacGregor spoke of him. Now, having seen him, she was more curious than ever. There was an economy about the way he moved, the way he talked, that she couldn't put a finger on, but it wasn't just an impression. No, that was what he was like. Economical.

Judy could not imagine describing a person with the word "economical" and if she had, She'd have probably used the word thrifty, instead. But economical suited Tuck.

In the fall, the entire group had been able to fit in Mr. MacGregor's car, and they had talked and laughed for the entire drive to where they were to start hiking. On the way back they'd sung stupid camp songs; it had been a lot of fun.

Mr. Tucker had tried to start a conversation earlier, when he'd asked everyone their names, but the conversation had lapsed almost at once. At least Judy had gleaned the name of the stranger, Elspeth Brenner. She didn't recall hearing it before at school; it would be interesting later to see if Becky or Lydia knew her.

After everyone had given their names, Mr. Tucker had said, "William Tucker is the name my parents gave me, but that didn't stop them from called me Billy when I was growing up. In Nam, Mac started calling me 'Tuck' -- he didn't think Billy sounded enough like what an officer's name should be. The name caught on. So, please, call me Tuck, everyone does."

Twice after that, Judy had seen Mr. Tucker, Tuck, say something quietly to Mrs. Flowers. Once, Mrs. Flowers had turned away, rudely looking out the window. The second time she had simply ignored him.

Yet Mrs. Flowers had given him her name and so had Sarah. So, maybe it was just instant bad chemistry.

It took an hour to get away from the city and then they went along a dusty dirt road for another hour.

Tuck finally broke the silence, waving ahead of them at Mr. MacGregor's car. "Mac said that some of you went with him into the mountains last fall, and this spring he wanted to bring you into the desert. This is the prettiest time of the year in the desert."

Some people saw rocks and sand, mountains and hills and thought the desert was desolate. Actually, Judy thought, the desert was dotted every few feet with bushes, mainly creosote and sage, Palo Verde trees were also frequent. Less common were ironwood trees and a few other tree varieties as well. There were all kinds of wildlife too, from bugs and lizards to deer.

Tuck continued, "Mac came up here a couple of weeks ago, looking for a spot for us to camp. Here in a bit, we're going to cut cross-country to reach the spot he picked."

For the first time, Judy noticed that Mr. MacGregor was about a quarter of a mile ahead of them. If Tuck was following him, why not follow closer? Then Judy realized that Tuck was staying just back of where the dust plume from the other car faded away. Judy realized that he was doing it so the people in the van wouldn't have to breath the dust Mr. MacGregor's car kicked up. Thinking that, she also realized she hadn't seen another car for a quite a while.

"Are we going to do any hiking?" Lydia asked from her seat in the middle, next to Sarah Flowers. Lydia loved to walk, almost as much as she liked to play the guitar.

Tuck laughed, but it wasn't mean or sarcastic. "Tomorrow, we split into two groups. Those who are demented can go with Mac and cross the Verde on the cable car. Those who are sheep can follow me across the Sheep Bridge. We will all do a fair amount of walking."

Ahead of them, Mr. MacGregor was slowing, his right turn blinker on. Judy had been able to see the Verde River in places for the last few miles, they were still about a mile or so away from it, but now they were turning directly towards it.

"Like I said, we're going cross-country, so don't get excited when we leave the road," Tuck said, as he too slowed and put on his blinker.

Judy tried to see where they were going, but the problem with sitting in the middle of the back seat was that she had a lousy view in every direction. Judy wished she could see what Tuck was seeing right then, driving without a road. It would have been even more interesting to be with Mr. MacGregor, going across the trackless desert.

Judy never figured out what happened next. She had impressions, but a poor vantage point to see from.

Without warning, there was an instant of darkness, and then it was like being in some sort of rainbow light show for another second or two. It looked like being inside a waterfall of rainbows.

Judy glanced to the side and saw when the rainbows vanished. Instead of rainbows, about forty feet away were a half-dozen men. She didn't have a good view of them past Becky, but it was enough to see that all but one of the men were holding the reins of horses; each man was dressed in what looked like some sort of chain mail armor shirts. The men were carrying very long rifles, slung over their shoulders.

The van's brakes grabbed, throwing Judy forward. Only a quick move kept her from smashing into the seat in front of her; Becky, next to Judy, did fly forward, sprawling in the space in front of the middle door.

The van swerved sharply and for a second Judy could clearly see the wall of whatever they were inside, a few feet past the window. It looked like silvery mesh; a mesh that seemed to pulse with faintly rainbow-colored light, with a vague view of the desert beyond it. A desert that shimmered and flickered oddly.

Then Tuck slammed the gearshift into reverse and floored the accelerator. Judy was pushed back against the seat, just as the rainbows started again.

There was another instant's blackness followed by hard sunlight once again. Then an abrupt bump, as the van ran into something solid, stopping it, giving the occupants one last jolt.

Chapter 2 »