by A. M. Pierre
He looked straight into her eyes. “It’s always my fault.” Then his hand slipped off her shoulder and he flopped backwards against the crate, his head causing a slight ringing noise as it hit the metal.
* * *
The van’s front door opened, and Daisuke managed to hold in a yell of joy when Mr. Brown slid behind the wheel. “Sorry I’m late,” the older man grumbled. “There’s always so much stuff to fill out when you’re let out of jail.”
“No problem, no problem, we just need to get going—” Daisuke glanced at his watch. 8:20. “—like now!”
Mr. Brown put the car into gear. “I know you’re worried, but fair warning: in this part of town at this time of day, it’ll take at least fifteen minutes to get there.”
“But . . . But I remember how far they towed us last night. We could get out and run there in less than fifteen minutes!” Daisuke already had his hand on the door handle.
“Yes, you could. And then what? No one runs outside anymore. You’d get picked up by OPSEC for sure.”
But I promised I’d be there by 8:15. I never break my promises. He hoped they’d be able to forgive him for it. And that they’d be alive to do so.
* * *
Kaia tried not to look at her watch again. They’ll come. They’re just running a bit late. You can’t do anything about that. Focus on what you can do.
Ezio hadn’t said anything for a while, but at least his eyes were open. Kind of. Kaia stirred some sugar and some powdered stuff that was supposedly cream-like into the instant coffee she’d made. She hadn’t found any restrictions against caffeine on the painkiller’s label, and she hoped it might perk Ezio up a little. She took a sip and made a face. Dice’s tiny water heater had worked like a dream, but he needed a better coffee mix. She held the cup up to Ezio’s lips. “Here. It’s coffee. Sort of.”
He grinned. “Thanks, Ka-i-aaaa.” He dragged her name out like it was three syllables and change. She almost laughed, let herself be distracted. That was her mistake.
She didn’t see his hand reaching to take the cup. And missing. And bumping the cup so the not-quite-scalding-but-still-hot-enough-to-really-hurt coffee sloshed all over Kaia’s hand. She yelped in pain.
“Did you hear that?”
Kaia froze. The voice was gruff and cold—and right outside their crate. The guards must be searching again. She turned her earpiece back off—no scannable signals. Don’t cough, don’t breathe, don’t make a sound. She stared in the direction of the guard’s voice. Just go away. No one’s here. No one’s—
“Is Dice comin’, Kaia?”
Kaia cursed herself for letting Ezio get out the whole sentence before she slammed a hand over his mouth. He continued mumbling underneath her hand, but she was sure she wasn’t suffocating him. Pretty sure.
“I swear I heard something.”
“Really, Chris? Sure it’s not wishful thinking, hoping you’ll be the one to get the reward?”
“That’s not it. I know I heard—hey, Jack! Come take a look at this!” Kaia’s heart leapt into her throat. “That pattern in the dust—it could be one person dragging someone else.”
“Even if you’re right, where would they have gone?” A metallic clanging vibrated the walls of the container. “The counter hasn’t changed, so the door hasn’t been opened, and it’s not like there’s room to hide behind it.”
“I don’t know, Jack. But I still think we should call it in.”
For a second Kaia thought the other guard would veto it. Ah, but that would mean something’s going my way, and we can’t have that now, can we?
“Fine, I guess it couldn’t hurt.” There was a muffled conversation Kaia couldn’t make out. “That was Bill. He said Mr. Clarke will be here at 8:30 with the passcodes and keys and that he’s sending over some more guys to help us watch this place until then.”
Kaia heard them walk out the door. At least if they stayed outside she’d be able to let Ezio breathe properly. One thing for the “positive column”! On the negative side? Kaia ran down the list in her head: the only person who can open this container is blitzed out of his mind because I fed him too many painkillers. Our only allies haven’t come back and, for all we know, can’t come back. The gun-toting goons have found our hiding spot and are now blocking any possibility of escape. And in less than ten minutes some guy who the bloodthirsty mercenaries refer to as “Mr.” will yank us out and either deliver us to people who will torture and kill us or do it himself. Oh, and I still need to go to the bathroom.
“Kaia?”
It was only one word, but . . . Was it her imagination, or did he sound a little better—a little clearer? He might be coming out of it. He might be able to help her. They might have a chance after all! “Yes?”
“Why’s there tiny polar bears dancing on my knees? And why’re they wearing tutus?”
Kaia let her head fall back against the wall of the crate. “We are going to die.”
* * *
“In the name of all that is good and decent in this world, would you stop doing that?”
Daisuke looked over at Alizée, perplexed. “Stop doing what?”
Her eye twitched. “For the last ten minutes, you’ve been bouncing your feet like you’re a contestant in a bug-stomping competition. When your hands joined in, I thought I might lose it. However, it was the head-bouncing that began ten seconds ago that made me want to wring your scrawny little neck. So, for the sake of my sanity and your continued health, I’ll ask again: would you stop doing that?”
“How about if it’s just one foot?”
“Dice!”
“Fine. I guess I’ll just let all this nervous energy build up inside me until I explode like a mouse in a microwave.” He crossed his arms across his chest like a petulant child.
“First off, I think you’ll be fine. Second, don’t ever use that analogy again.” She glanced out the window. “How much longer?”
“Five minutes. Five hours. I don’t know, and it’s driving me crazy. So, I have two choices: I go insane, or I bounce!” His leg started up again.
Alizée grabbed his face in one hand and squeezed his cheeks until his lips puckered into a fish-face. “Fine by me, as long as you understand this—your nervousness makes you want to repeatedly move your feet, whereas mine makes me want to repeatedly move my fist. Got it?”
Daisuke’s leg slowed to a stop. His voice sounded muffled through the fish lips. “I just want them to be okay.”
“. . . So do I.”
* * *
It was 8:30. People were talking outside the crate. Kaia should’ve felt nervous, but she didn’t. When she’d still had some hope they’d escape, her stomach had been doing flips. Now that they had no chance, she felt almost calm. There was nothing left to do, so why worry?
Ezio had stopped mumbling. He sat perfectly still, staring blankly ahead. Kaia squeezed his shoulder, hoping he wasn’t really aware of what was going on. The other possibility would be particularly cruel—to know he had the power to defend himself but not the capacity.
“Right there, Mr. Clarke. See what I was talking about?”
“I do indeed, Chris. Good eye you’ve got. Let me get the proper key . . . here we go.”
“Um, sir, what are you—”
“Chris, when I want your input I’ll ask for it.” A short pause followed, punctuated by some random beeping and jangling sounds.
“Um, sir?”
A sigh. The beeping stopped. “Yes, Chris?”
“Do you think all this has anything to do with Rossim? I mean, after what happened to Mr. Hunt’s group?”
“I think many things, Chris. None of which I would discuss with you.” One final, authoritative beep. “All right, men, I want everyone ready for whatever we find in here. Any resistance, and you have my permission to fire. Just make sure you don’t hit me, or I’ll ha
ve to reconsider your overtime applications for last night’s work.”
Laughter—it sounded like at least six or seven men. All armed. Kaia squeezed Ezio’s shoulder tighter and closed her eyes. She heard a sharp metallic creak as the door swung open. She waited for the inevitable shot from a sleep-deprived and trigger-happy merc . . .
Nothing happened. She wanted to see what was going on, but a childish feeling of “they won’t see me if I don’t move” kept her from doing anything.
“It looks like they’ve already abandoned this particular hiding spot. We know they haven’t left the grounds, and I’ve already arranged to bring in the thermal cameras to help. I’m sorry I couldn’t make them available sooner, but I needed them elsewhere—cutbacks, you know. Once they arrive, we’ll flush these rats out of whatever dark hole they’ve crawled into. Until then, resume your normal search pattern.”
Kaia waited until the footsteps had receded, then opened one eye a crack. The door to their crate was still shut. She crawled over and pushed on it. Still locked, too. Then what . . . ?
The answer hit her in a “Duh, of course!” flash. They’d seen the drag marks on the floor, but they’d opened the wrong crate. A faint glimmer of hope started shining again. This was a chance. A legitimate chance. They didn’t have Dice and his high-tech surveillance, so it wasn’t as good a chance as Kaia would’ve liked, but she’d take it anyway. They might fail, but at least they could say they’d tried. Actually, if they failed, they’d both be dead, so they wouldn’t be saying much of anything, but they would be “not saying it” with pride. Or something. Whatever. That wasn’t the point. The point was Kaia was going to take control of her life, no matter how little of it remained, and, one way or another, they were leaving.
As soon as she figured a way out of the crate.
* * *
“Seriously, Mr. Brown, has everyone within 50 miles decided it’s insanely important for them to be on this road right now?”
“I’m sorry, Daisuke. It’s only two more intersections until the turnoff. You might want to start getting ready.”
Daisuke rolled his eyes. Yeah, I’ve been sitting here with every monitor up and every program running, staring intently at all the screens, and holding my hands in attack mode over the keyboards for the last fifteen minutes because I like eyestrain and finger cramps so very much.
A hand squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be all right.” It sounded like Alizée was trying to convince herself as much as him. “You’ll see. It’ll be all right.”
* * *
Kaia hadn’t known what, exactly, she was looking for in her backpack, but she knew it when she saw it. She’d hoped to find a portable laser to cut through the metal (something which action movies had convinced her existed, and something which she was now convinced needed to exist). Instead, she found something less flashy but equally useful: a bolt cutter. Now, if I can only . . . She pushed on the door of the crate, willing there to be some give.
The door creaked. A small gap showed. And through that gap, though not wide enough to slip her hand through, she could see the physical bolt holding the door shut. Awesome.
She popped the lock and slowly opened the door, cringing at every slight squeak. She peered out cautiously into the storage room—no one in sight. No guards passing by the shed’s small windows either. Kaia turned back to Ezio, who still had a blank stare but seemed a little less, well, blank. “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“’m fine. Do you know when my fingers turned into popsicles?”
Okay, so “improving” might be a bit of an exaggeration. “Hey, you think you can walk?”
“Course I can walk. I can roll, too. Whatcha think I got wheels for, huh?” He crawled out of the container. Well, not so much “crawled” as “tried to slide his knees and hands forward like they had roller skates on them.”
“. . . Ezio, those are lovely wheels, but I need you to stand up, okay?”
Between his legs, her arms, and a nearby crate, they managed to get him upright. He steadied himself by draping his arm across her shoulders—an impressive feat, considering. Kaia managed to take the extra weight and not fall over, which she thought was pretty impressive, too. They started their slow, sliding, shambling walk towards the main door. “Where are we goin’, Ka-i-a?”
“We’re trying to go home.” Technically, they were trying to leave the storage room, and then trying to make it out of the compound, and then trying to find a way out of the country, and then trying to find a way back to Mark’s Place, but why bother the drug-addled little guy with all the details? “Are you ready?”
He nodded, miraculously maintaining his balance. Here goes nothing. Kaia pushed open the door, and the two of them made their awkward way out into the morning sun.
“Well, this is certainly a surprise.”
Kaia froze. She knew that voice. It was the voice of the man they called Mr. Clarke. Standing very close beside her.
“I would appreciate it if you would turn toward me—slowly, of course. I always prefer talking to someone face to face.”
Kaia managed to pivot the two of them around. The man standing there didn’t look very imposing at all. He was middle-aged and a bit on the short side, with glasses, a pudgy stomach, and graying hair. Normally, she wouldn’t have given him a second glance. Under the circumstances, though, she did, and her second glance gave her a good look at his eyes—a look that sent a shiver up her spine. They weren’t cruel or mean, but . . . calculating. Like he was looking at figures on a page instead of two human lives.
“I must say, I wasn’t expecting anyone quite so young.” His voice was even and calm, like he was conversing with a friend over dinner. “To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t expecting you to be a girl, either. I would’ve thought this line of work a bit too rough for your gender. Obviously, that was a gross error on my part. You seem to have handled yourself quite well.”
Why is he still talking so casually? It doesn’t make sense.
“Ah, I see. You’re wondering why I haven’t called in my men yet. The answer’s simple: I don’t need to.”
Kaia tried not to react, but her thoughts still must have shown on her face.
“Oh, I don’t intend to fight you myself. Judging by your performance last night, I dare say you’d walk away the victor, even without having your injured friend to help you. No, I meant I don’t need to call them because they’re already here.” He snapped his fingers, and more than twenty armed guards appeared—on nearby rooftops, from behind the cover of nearby walls, and beside Mr. Clarke himself. “We were waiting for you, young lady. I opened the wrong crate on purpose. I simply preferred you walk into my trap instead of possibly walking into yours. Plus, since the blood we found inside indicated one of you was injured, I figured the healthy intruder would be additionally hobbled by his—excuse me, her—friend. After all, if you were going to abandon him as deadweight, you could have done so long before now.”
Kaia opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
“It’s all right. Feel free to ask me whatever you’d like. It’s the least I can do considering how little time you have left to live.”
That answers my “are you gonna kill us” question. “W-Why are you going to kill us?”
“Technically, I don’t kill people—my men do it for me—but I can understand why you might have little regard for semantics at the moment.” Mr. Clarke started cleaning his glasses. “It’s nothing personal, really. I don’t like violence, especially directed against women or children. I do, however, recognize the value of violence in certain contexts.” He put his glasses back on, and his eyes looked colder than ever. “You violated my home, damaged my property, and seriously injured one of my men. You must be shown the consequences of your actions. However, as much as my men have been begging me, I will not be allowing them to torture you. I think that unseemly and excessive, and I don’t be
lieve it would lead to any useful information. I will be allowing them to shoot you, however, so your bullet-ridden corpses may serve as a warning to anyone who thinks it a good idea to come after what’s mine.”
Wait—we’re in a neighborhood. A sprawling, spread out neighborhood, true, but someone would still hear any gunshots. Is this some kind of trick, then? Maybe to get us to say something to save ourselves?
She noticed Mr. Clarke staring intently at her, and the look on his face made her blood run cold. It wasn’t smugness or superiority. It was pity. “You poor thing. You think you’ve got it figured out, don’t you? I’m truly sorry to tell you this, but I’m not bluffing or playing games. I have more respect for you than that. I told you the absolute truth.” He gestured towards the land surrounding them. “This compound is registered as a training facility for security forces of various types. There is such a need for security nowadays. I assure you, gunfire coming from here will be neither noticed nor reported.”
He took a couple steps back and gestured towards Kaia and Ezio with a lazy flicking motion. “All right, men, you may fire when ready.”
A calmness came over Kaia, but this time it wasn’t a mere acceptance of death. She had felt this sensation before—quite recently, in fact. Even as she watched the mercs raise their weapons in what seemed like ridiculously slow motion, she wasn’t really there. No, she was standing perfectly still in the training room, with two warm hands holding hers while she tried to synchronize her breathing and heartbeat with his.
Connor.
In her mind’s eye, she saw Connor’s lips moving: Close your eyes.
She did.
The sounds of gun butts sliding into place against rough camouflage material, of safeties clicking off, of a few stray chuckles—they all disappeared. In their place was something amazing. Something beautiful.
Music was playing. Everywhere around her. Violins sang and bells rang and harps tinkled brightly. A hum that sounded like distant bagpipes undercut a clarinet’s harmony while a flute whistled nearby. She heard them all, and she knew exactly what they all meant. More importantly, she knew exactly what she could do with them.