As Chad dressed, he decided to wear the doll men's tags as well. It lightened his backpack a little, and the added weight around his neck boosted his pride. As he pulled his pack over his shoulders, the dog tags began to grow hotter. Chad's senses seemed heightened. He could smell and hear the wildlife moving in the brush around him. He felt so energized. His backpack felt empty. He took it off his pack to make sure that everything was still there, and there were no holes in the backpack. Everytime accounted for, hm, he hefted the pack with one hand easily. Maybe the dolls weighed less than he thought. He put the pack back over his shoulders. He stretched and began sprinting. He was really flying, as he raced through the woods. He stopped just before exiting the woods. He was thinking as he ran. He wasn't winded or tired after covering several miles. He wondered if the tags transfered the strength of the seven athletes to the new wearer. The dolls sure lost a lot of mass, but wasn't mass and energy always conserved?
As he paused squatting, Chad breathed slowly. It wasn't just his strength and senses that seemed heightened, his mind was whirring processing every sound, movement, and smell that he registered. He had obeyed the Supreme Commander without question, but he was now questioning this unknown entity. What was his game? Why only seven soldiers? Might there be others hunting too? Would he be shot and turned into a doll if he had emerged from the woods? He couldn't see anyone waiting, but then if Chad was waiting, he would be well concealed until the target was in his trap. He ran his tongue over his teeth, then slunk back into the woods.
It didn't take much longer to get home by skirting through the woods until he came to a storm drain which ran along the perimeter of the park. Several times he became aware of people in the woods or just outside the perimeter. He didn't know if they were hunting him or not. His orders to engage didn't include anyone other than those in his backpack, so he avoided contact. When he was sure no one could see, he dropped into the culvert and entered the storm drain system.
When he was 11, his class had taken a tour of the Public Works. He had seen maps of the city streets, sewers, storm drains, gas lines and underground phone, electrical and cable conduits and vaults. Now he accessed those memories as if he was looking right at those maps. It took about half an hour for him to navigate the storm drain tunnels wearing his night vision goggles, and using his infrared flashlight. He climbed the ladder for the storm drain across the street from his house. He could see his house. There were two vans parked on the street that he didn't recognize as belonging. So he climbed back down the ladder, backtracked two streets over, and exited the stormdrain system at the end of the dead end street next to the cemetery. Chad dodged in and out of hedges, leaping fences, cutting through backyards until he dropped over the fence into his own backyard.
Chad stood in the silence. He could hear his heart beating. Something was wrong. He pressed his back against the fences. Bushes obscured his view, but also obscured him from others view. He had expected Bounder his dog to come running and barking, but there was no sign of the dog. Chad took his backpack off and dropped to the ground, and crawled on his belly along the fence. He moved slowly and silently. His destination was Bounder's doghouse.