Chapter 2: Carlos

Carlos Garza sat next to his classmate and friend, Claudia Diaz, on the bus. She was a slim girl with red hair and a wide grin. She had been a good student, but lately, had been spacing out in class, and her grades were starting to slip.

Both wore their school uniform. Their bright green slacks and skirt were identical to those the priests wore, but their shirts and blouses were white.

They were talking about the upcoming math test, when the bus stopped.

Ben, the bus driver, called out, "Carlos! You get off here."

The teen knew that couldn't be right. The bus was at least twenty miles from school, as it was its usual circuitous route. He then looked out the window.

On the side of the road was a bright green Hum-Vee, with blacked out windows. Standing beside the car was a priest and priestess, dressed bright green uniforms, that matched the Hummer.

A murmur swept through the half-full bus, and everyone stared at Carlos.

The boy, himself, was mystified. He had never heard of priests abducting people. What would they want him?

He nervously ran his hands through his unruly mop of curly hair, and walked to the front of the bus.

"Good luck," said Ben, as he stepped off.

The school bus shifted into gear and took off down the dirt road.

At least Carlos knew one of the priests. The priestess was Theresa Cortez, the high priestess' aunt.

The priest was Scandinavian. He had been seen around town for a few months. He had pale skin, light blond, almost white, hair, a medium athletic build, and emotionless gray eyes.

Both were armed, with a pistol on each hip.

The Swede opened the back door. "Get in, please."

Carlos' pulse quickened, taking a step back.

Theresa stepped in. "Bjorn, please. No need to be so threatening.

"The truth is, Carlos, we are as in the dark as you. We were told to intercept your bus, and hold you until we're told what to do next."

"But ... But why?"

Bjorn shrugged. "Don't know. We're given orders. We follow them."

Carlos gestured toward the Hummer. "Do I have to wait in there?"

"We could wait out here," said Bjorn. "But the cooling inside the car is so much nicer."

Carlos could not argue with that. The dry hot Mexican wind was not a pleasant one.

He stepped inside the Hummer. Theresa sat beside him. Bjorn sat in the driver's seat.

There was a barrier between the front and back seats, but the window was open so they could talk. Unfortunately, there wasn't much to talk about.

Bjorn Swenson was from Stockholm. He specialized in security. Two months ago, he was sent here. No idea why.

After about an hour of waiting. Bjorn's cell phone rang. He answered it, said "Yes, ma'am," and hung up.

The priest turned on the ignition, and took off down the road.

"Where are we going?" asked both Carlos and Theresa together.

"You don't need to know," said Bjorn as he closed the door between him and the two in the back.

Theresa tried to use her phone, but found the signal jammed.

After the initial panic, the trip proved a boring as the waiting. With blacked-out windows, there was nothing to see.

Thirty minutes into the journey, Bjorn slowed down, then stopped.

When the door opened, Carlos was almost disappointed.

"We're at school?"

Bjorn nodded. "You're to go to the locker room, and take a shower."

But gym is three periods away."

The priest shrugged. "Those are your orders."

All the classes were in the middle of first period, and the halls were all but empty, as the three walked to the boys' locker room.

Theresa stopped by the room's entrance. "I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"And I'll guard the other door," said Bjorn.

The two men went into the locker room.

Bjorn made sure that Carlos had stripped, and was showering, before he went to guard the other entrance.

Carlos decided, if the goddesses wanted him to shower, he'd make sure it was a good one. He made sure that every nook and cranny was squeaky clean, from head to toe, before he stepped out.

While drying off, the teen discovered that all his clothes were gone. Replacing them was what looked like a hospital gown.

Everything about the gown was inadequate. It was made of paper, only a step above tissue paper. When he tried putting it on, the gown caught on the few wet spots on his skin, and tore.

Carlos went back and dried off more.