Trail Of Terror (The Clayton Boys Mystery Adventure Series #1) Chapter 1

TRAIL OF TERROR

(CLAYTON BOYS #1)

CHAPTER 1 

Josh

I looked out over the instrument panel—lights flashing red and my heart lurched into my throat. We were going to crash! Keep it together, I muttered to myself.

Quick, put the landing gear down, my brother Cody cried out. He was seated in the co-pilot seat but didn’t know anything about being a pilot.

My hands flew to the controls and lowered the landing gear. I could hear Cody breathing out short bursts of breath to calm himself. My other brother Ben was in the back seat, calm and collected.

We levelled off as the island came into view and the landing strip, lights just winking on in the dusk. A storm cloud was directly ahead, right over the island. I would have to land before the cloud hit or we’d run out of fuel.

Storm Island to Clayton 1, do you read?

A voice crackled over the radio. Yes, I said, clicking on the hand held radio.

Are you OK, boys, the man said.

Yes, we’re good, George, I answered. I heard Cody grunt. That’s what you think, he muttered under his breath, but I heard him.

OK, airstrip A is open. You’re good to proceed.

Just then a flash of lightning burst across right in front of the plane. Ack! Cody blurted.

Be quiet, dude! I exclaimed, grabbing the wheel tighter.

Just—get us down in one piece, Cody said between gritted teeth.

Cody, calm down, Ben remarked from the back seat. Josh’s got this, don’t you, bro?

I nodded and gritted my teeth, happy for Ben’s confidence in me, but wondering if I really could do it.

Of course I could do it. I’ve landed this plane hundreds of times.

But never in the middle of a storm.

I banked to the right and levelled the plane and lowered towards the airstrip. Another flash filled the sky, but this was different. It wasn’t lightning.

What—was that? Cody said with a gulp, gripping the front dashboard.

Lightning, Ben remarked. What else would it be?

I don’t think—so, I muttered, agreeing with my youngest sibling. It came from the far side of the island.

There’s nothing over there, Ben said matter of factly, peering out from between the seats and staring into the darkness.

The plane lowered and a few seconds later the landing gear hit the pavement of the runway. We slowed but suddenly the end of the airstrip was ahead of us.

I had misjudged the distance in the semi darkness. We were going to crash.

Ack! Cody blurted again and Ben grunted. I gripped the steering wheel as we careened down the strip and approached the trees just ahead.

Crash!

The plane flew through the wall of trees and foliage at the end of the airstrip. Suddenly we were sliding down an embankment towards a rushing stream, about a hundred meters dead ahead.

The plane slowed as it slid down the rocky hill and turned to the left as it slid. I held on to the steering wheel trying desperately to gain some control over the plane, but it continued to slide down the embankment.

A flash of light lit up the sky along the river to our left. The plane slid a little further then came to a stop against a large rock sticking out into the water.

What—was that?

It’s a rock, Ben muttered from the backseat.

Not that, you bonehead, Cody said, turning in his seat. That flash of light. Didn’t you see it.

Oh, that, Ben said. I have no idea.

Come on, let’s get out of here. Anyone hurt, I asked as I turned to first Cody then Ben. Both shook their heads.

I tried to open the door but it was butted up against the rock. Try your door, I said to Cody who nodded then opened his door. A weird noise met our ears as Cody climbed out of the door and jumped to the ground. A loud mechanical noise filled the forest, drowning out the rushing river just behind us.

What in the—? Cody said, staring at me, eyes wide. I shrugged and climbed out followed by Ben.

The noise stopped and a moment later it started to rain, drops coming off the leaves overhead.

My cell phone buzzed and I answered it. George?

Are you guys OK, his usually steady voice said, now touched with concern. Where are you?

By the river, I said, looking around but the trees all looked the same. At the top of the hill I could barely see the hole in the foliage where the plane had crashed through.

I’m coming out in the van to get you guys. Stay tight.

I could hear the rumbling of the van’s engine.

I can see the end of the runway, he said through the phone. I see where you crashed through.

Suddenly a bright flash of light lit up the area. Then the loud machinery noise filled the air.

What’s that, George said through the phone.

Did you see the bright light?

Yes, George said. What is it?

We don’t know, I said. The rain started to come more heavily now.  It’s over a crest of a hill on the other side of the river. We can’t seen anything from our position.

I’m almost to the end of the runway, George said. I’ll get you guys then we’ll investigate the light.

The noise stopped again and the woods were quiet, except for the rain and the rushing river.

Headlights appeared at the top of the hill, lights blaring through the break in the foliage. George appeared a moment later, a flashlight in his hand. A moment later the beam of his light landed on us and he moved down the hill, light bobbing in the darkness.

We moved to meet him. The hill wasn’t very steep and since I was wearing hiking boots so the climb was easy—for me. It was a little more difficult for Cody who had high tops.

We’re OK, I said as we met and George nodded. He was an older man, mid 50s with short dark hair and grey eyes. He had on a light jacket and jeans.

Let’s head back and we’ll get this plane out in the morning. You guys need to get back to the house. Your parents have been notified and will meet us in the infirmary

We don’t need a doctor, Cody grunted as we headed up the hill. I want to find out what that noise was and—what the light was.

Really, dude, Ben muttered. We’ll figure it out tomorrow. We were just in a plane crash—remember? The rain started to come down in torrents, so any investigation would have to wait.

Come on, I growled and followed George to the top of the hill. No more lights and no more machinery noise as we reached the van. It was a late model square van of some nondescript colour. It was George’s van and though we teased him about it, it got us from point A to point B on the island.

I climbed in the back followed by Ben then Cody. George got in the front and started it up. The engine roared to life, and we moved back to the runway. Rain continued to come down in buckets. A moment later George’s cell phone rang. He clicked the Bluetooth attached to the radio, and a voice came over the speakers.

George? Is that you?

Yes, George said, looking at us. What is it Roscoe?

It’s Tyson. He’s missing. You’re out in the van?

Yes, George remarked.

Can you see if you can find him? He was out in the forest at the end of the island but I can’t reach him on his cell. I saw a lightning flash just a bit ago. He might have been hit.

I’ll go and look, George said. I’ll let you know what I find.

Thanks, Roscoe remarked with a sigh.

George hung up.

What would Tyson be doing out in a storm? I grunted. Tyson Brady was the son of Roscoe Brady who worked with our parents in the government lab on Storm Island—the secret government lab. He was a year younger than me and was a royal pain in the—

Watch out! Cody cried out as a figure loomed up in front of us in the darkness.

George slammed on the brakes and swerved to miss the figure standing in the middle of the rain soaked dirt trail.

The figure came up to the passenger door and wrenched it open. You almost killed me, George! The person cried out.

Tyson Brady. His usual spiky blond hair was now plastered to his head and his dark shirt was drenched as were his jeans.

He noticed the three of us sitting in the back. What are you guys doing out here, he muttered, climbing into the front seat? I thought you were back on the mainland; he added with a sneer.

A better question, what are you doing out here, in the rain, I retorted. Just taking a stroll?

Yeah, something like that, Tyson muttered, turning to look out the window.

Your dad just called and asked me to look for you, George said, evenly. He couldn’t reach you on your phone.

Pfft, Tyson said shaking his head. Dad’s a worry wart. I turned off my phone, the battery was dead anyway.

You’d better call him, George said reaching to turn on the Bluetooth.

Don’t bother, Tyson said turning to face George. Just take me back to Dad’s lab. I’ll talk to him.

Very well, Tyson. George said. He knew it was useless to argue with Tyson, who could be a little stubborn.

We rode in silence for a few minutes, heading back down the dirt trail towards the main complex. A large building came up ahead, the van’s headlights glinting off the windows. It was a two story structure, brick with windows along the ground floor. This was the main lab of Clayton Corporation, owned by my parents, world renowned scientists Thomas Clayton and Cordelia Biedermann-Clayton. The “secret” government lab was located on a lower level of the lab building and not many people were aware of this section of the “Clayton Corporation”.

We lived just beyond the lab building in a large ranch style house that backed on the Pacific Ocean, which was dark now. Over the sound of the rain I could hear the waves crashing on the surf below.

Down the rutted lane, another building, smaller than our house, was where Tyson lived with his dad, Roscoe. Roscoe Brady was my parents assistant in the lab. He was a good scientist and a fairly decent, if quiet and reserved guy. Tyson figured his dad should run the lab, not my own dad. Ever since Tyson and his father came to live on the island with us—three months ago now, he had it in for me and my brothers—and my parents for that matter.

Just drop me off in front of the house, Tyson muttered and George complied without a word. A minute later Tyson was out of the van and without a word of thanks, bounded up the front steps of his house and went inside.

You should talk to Dad about him, Cody said. He’s a rude jerk. He shouldn’t talk to you the way he does.

It’s OK, George said quietly. He’s got—a lot on his mind, he added as he pulled the van around and headed to our house, half a kilometer back down the lane.

The lab was dark but our house was lighted up, so Mom and Dad were home and likely had guests. Probably some government official.

Landers is here, George muttered as he pulled into a parking spot next to a new black sedan.

Great, what does he want, I said as we got out and headed around the back to the rear entrance. I could really hear the surf now, the wind and rain still coming down in sheets.

Dunno, George said as he followed us into the house. We could hear voices coming from the living room, just off the kitchen.

We had not choice but to bring him in, a voice said.

Wait, the boys are back, Mom said and a moment later she came into the kitchen. She was tall and slim with long reddish blond curly hair. She was still dressed in her lab coat. A look of worry lined her features.

Oh, good you’re back safe, she said, letting  out a breath. She hugged me, then Ben, then Cody. Are you OK, she said. We were going to meet you at the infirmary, but-well we have a visitor.

I told your parents what happened, George said and Mom nodded. A moment later Dad appeared in the doorway. He was tall and slim and had dark hair and a light beard. He flashed a quick smile.

Boys, it’s good to see you’re OK. He strode into the room and stood next to mom. They looked like something was wrong. Something other than their sons just surviving a plane crash.

What’s up? I asked looking between Mom, Dad and my brothers.

It’s your friend Vik, Mom said, looking at Ben.

Vik, from school? Ben asked.

Yes, Mom said. He’s been arrested.