Free Against All Odds by Natale Ghent

arm’s length, moving it in a careful arc through the air. The machine made a small ticking sound, like a Geiger counter, the ticks becoming more frequent as Samantha held it toward the mouth of the path. The ticking grew louder and more urgent, the arms spinning faster and faster until the device began to crackle like raw electricity. After several minutes, Samantha depressed the button and the metallic arms began to slow, the ticking fading as the arms folded neatly back into the device. She stuffed the wand into her bag, stepped off the railway onto the path, and slipped into the shadowy woods.
    Squeak turned to Boney, his eyes the size of dessert plates. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It appeared to be some kind of tracking device.”
    “Yeah … but what is she tracking?” Boney stood, peered over the bush, signalled for Squeak to wait, and trotted over to the mouth of the path. When he was surethe coast was clear, he motioned for Squeak to follow. Squeak hustled over. Boney pointed to the path. “It’s new. That’s why we’ve never seen it before. Look at the broken branches on the bushes.”
    Squeak studied the branches. “These breaks can’t be more than a day or two old.”
    “But look at the ground,” Boney said. “It’s trampled flat.”
    Squeak crouched down, peering at the ground. “It appears to be thousands of sneaker prints — and all the same size and pattern. Who could have done this?”
    “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” Boney made a motion to leave. Squeak stopped him with a hand on his shirt sleeve and a worried look in his eyes.
    “Do you think it’s safe?” he asked. “I mean, it seems illogical to go searching for something we may regret finding.”
    Boney clenched his jaw. “What choice do we have? Itchy may be in trouble. We have to help him … no matter how odd he’s been acting lately.”
    “But we’re not prepared,” Squeak said.
    Boney sighed. “How can we prepare for something when we don’t even know what it is? Consider this a scouting mission. We’ll look around a bit and see what we come up with. We won’t take any unnecessary chances. I promise.”
    Squeak raised an eyebrow. “Whenever you start making promises everything goes wrong.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “All right, maybe some of the time,” Boney conceded. “But this is different. Itchy needs our help. What kind of friends would we be if we just abandoned him?”
    Squeak pondered this for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.”
    Boney patted him on the back and began creeping along the path. Squeak followed behind so closely he was practically stepping on Boney’s heels. A twig snapped and Boney abruptly stopped, causing Squeak to slam into him.
    “Stop following so closely,” Boney hissed.
    “I’m sorry,” Squeak apologized. “It’s a little unnerving in here.”
    Boney rolled his eyes. “It’s just the woods. Mr. Spock wouldn’t be afraid.”
    “Mr. Spock carries a phaser.”
    Boney grabbed Squeak’s arm. “Shhh! Do you hear that?”
    Squeak cranked his head around, scanning the trees. “Hear what?”
    The two boys listened, hearts pounding.
    “I guess it’s nothing,” Boney said, after several nerve-racking seconds. “Let’s keep going.”
    Squeak exhaled. Boney hunched low, Squeak mirroring his movements. He looked over Boney’s shoulder. “What could Itchy possibly be doing out here? He’s terrified of being in the woods alone.”
    “He’s terrified of everything.” Boney stopped dead in his tracks. “Shhh! Listen!”
    Squeak stumbled into him again and scowled, adjusting the goggles on his face. “You’re starting to bug me.”
    Boney pointed to his ears and his eyes like a commando. Squeak crouched behind an old tree stump.
    “I don’t hear anything,” he said.
    Boney put a finger to his lips. “Listen … It’s some kind of weird hum. It comes in waves.”
    Squeak cupped his ears. And then his eyes widened.