“Excellent.” He tossed the keys into the air and caught them again. The world suddenly seemed much, much bigger.
Chapter Nine
“Driving is easy,” Alec said. “I’m better than anyone in F-Team at the NASCAR game.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Except in real driving, you can’t click the reset button. C’mon, Earnhardt. Let’s get some food.”
He followed at her heels as she negotiated the parking lot. She moved gracefully, light on her feet, but navigating all the cars and people reminded him of a military obstacle course. Some of the drivers paid no attention to those walking, even to the little kids with their parents. He glanced up at the big Wal-Mart sign. He’d seen them all over the place but had never been inside. There had been no reason. Anything he wanted, the Resource supplied.
Except the freedom to go inside Wal-Mart if he wanted.
They walked through the automatic doors. He blinked and stopped.
So. Much. Stuff.
Food. Clothes. Jewelry. Electronics way in the back. Signs to the right that said “home goods” and “garden tools”. People bustled around, barely avoiding other shoppers. The women were too focused on shopping or keeping track of their kids to pay attention to anyone else. The men were mostly alone, intent on whatever they wanted.
Oddly, despite all the stuff here, no one seemed that happy, except an old woman wearing a Wal-Mart nametag and a smiley face button. She said, “Hello, welcome to Wal-Mart.” He nodded back. She looked so frail, as if any movement would topple her.
They walked past her and Beth pulled a shopping cart out from a row.
“Why is that old woman working here?” he whispered. “Isn’t someone taking care of her?”
Beth shrugged. “Maybe she needs the money. Maybe she likes working. Not everyone has the Resource to provide them with every material want.”
“They didn’t get me a car.”
“That’s hardly necessary to everyday survival.”
“Says you.”
He looked up and down the middle aisle and scanned for all the exit and entry points. No visible ones in the back or the sides. Video cams were placed above the front doors but they were cheapie cameras. Not very effective. They’d be easy to get around.
He looked up. Fire-resistant suspended ceiling and sprinklers. It wouldn’t be that easy to burn. He might even have to start with melting shut the pipes that fed the sprinklers. After that, the paper would go up quick. And he bet there were flammables in those areas marked garden supplies and hardware. How much time before it was rubble? He’d never flamed something this big. He’d start small, with little fires in several areas and grow them, rather than trying to hit everything at once. It had worked with the small piece of skin on the sniper, thought it failed earlier with the table.
“Alec.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You’re doing recon, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “You said that you locked me in the basement to keep me safe in case someone was after me. I figured I’d better be alert for any threats.”
He lied because he didn’t want her to know that he’d been casing the place instinctively. She’d see that as more evidence of his being conditioned as a weapon.
She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide. “I should have thought of that. Did you see anyone?”
She’d bought his lie. Excellent. “No.” But he’d be on watch now, since she seemed so alarmed. “So what are we buying?”
She pointed to the back of the store. “First, music, then DVDs and a bunch of food that’s very bad for you.”
And he could pick them himself. Anything he wanted.
“Are we buying M&Ms?”
“Sure.”
“Do they have cognac or port?”
“Cognac?” She frowned.
“Lansing serves it after we have dinner. It’s good.”
“Even if Wal-Mart carried alcohol, you wouldn’t find cognac here. I think I saw beer in the fridge at the cottage, if that helps.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Beer’s okay if it’s not watery. What brand is it?”
“A local brand, I think.”
“You didn’t buy it? Then your mysterious friend did.”
“It’s his house.”
She set off down the aisle. So much for getting the full story from her. He followed, craning his neck to see up on the high shelves. She was taking the long way around to show him the entire store. He should be annoyed that she was leading him by the nose but he wanted to see it all: the people, everything in stock and the layout. When he spotted the back exit, he felt better, less trapped.
He heard the distinct thud of army boots coming around the next aisle and tensed. Instinctively, he tried to use his TK to reach ahead of him but felt no sign of his power, just the empty feeling in his head again.
His hands closed into fists. He needed a weapon. That big bottle marked “Tide” looked promising. Nice and heavy. He reached out and closed his bandaged fist around it, ready to attack.
A young man in an army uniform holding a baby turned into the aisle, followed by a woman leading a toddler.
Alec snatched his hand back from the bottle and ducked his head. Beth was right. He was on a hair trigger. He’d been reacting like a weapon, not a person. If his fire had been active, he might have torched the guy. His stomach twisted. Even if he wanted to leave the Resource, even if Beth was telling the truth, where did he belong? All he knew how to do was fight.
“Ever watch 24?” Beth held up a DVD box set. The cover showed a determined man holding a gun, with explosions and a sexy woman in the background.
“Jack Bauer, right? I heard Gabe mention it. He thinks the tech stuff in it is very, um, stupid.”
“It’s a fantasy version of what CIA does,” she said. “You might like it. Lots of explosions, fighting and bad guys.” She tossed it in the shopping cart.
To needle her, he picked up a DVD with a photo of an unbelievably gorgeous woman with big boobs. Lara Croft, Tomb Raider. Excellent!
“That’s predictable,” she said.
“You said I could pick. And I’m really good at the game.” He grabbed a few more titles that looked interesting, wondering if he’d have time to watch them. They had a lot of movies here. He recognized many of the action movies, like Aliens and the Die Hard stuff, but there were other movies, starring a shitload of people he’d never heard of. Who the hell was Meg Ryan? Or Kate Hudson?
None of the documentaries Lansing had made him watch were on the shelves, however. Though some of the movies looked like disaster footage, including earthquakes, volcanoes and shipwrecks. He’d watched a few of those.
They walked to the CD section. He tried not to look surprised at how many different CDs there were. He knew there were all kinds of music from the different songs in movies and video games. It just hadn’t hit him exactly how much was out there. There were soundtracks—he recognized Lord of the Rings and My Fair Lady—rap, jazz like Louis Armstrong, CDs labeled “pop” featuring scantily clad women and covers under “classic rock” that featured men with big hair, and that was just a start. At least he recognized Metallica.
He picked up a few of the classical CDs and noticed the orchestras were ones he’d never heard of. No sense wasting time on those. He found box sets of hits from the 1960s and 1970s, saw that they had some of the same groups as on Beth’s iPod, and grabbed them. When in doubt, study the enemy.
She looked at his choices, smiled and headed to the food section. She filled their cart with cookies, chips, soda and chocolate. Eggs and butter came from a glass-front fridge. He’d never heard of most of this food but he bit back questions. He didn’t want to look like an idiot.
What he really wanted was stuffed mushrooms or steak with béarnaise sauce but there was nothing like that in the store’s fridge. He knew that soldiers didn’t eat the kind of food that Lansing served. F-Team preferred pizza and burgers. He hadn’t realized that most people didn’t eat like
Lansing until their first pizza night.
His stomach rumbled. He should have eaten more at the house. Maybe it was that simple, that he was too depleted to even access his fire. Maybe it would just take him a day or two to recover. Hell of a lot of “maybes”.
“Better get more,” he said. “I’m hungry.”
“Aren’t you supposed to avoid junk food?” she said, her voice dry. “Part of training, yes?”
“I’m on vacation.”
They lined up to pay. It was like the check-out lines inside McDonalds. She paid cash where Daz had given the cashier a credit card. It added up to much more than he’d thought, especially for a discount store.
The cashier, a woman about his age, winked at him. Startled, he smiled back. As Beth put away the change, the cashier leaned over and whispered to him. “If you ever want anyone full-size, find me.”
Not knowing what else to say, he grabbed the bags from the carousel. That’s what everyone else seemed to do after they paid. “I didn’t realize all this would cost that much,” he said to Beth as they walked away.
“Did you ever handle money? Set up a budget?”
He didn’t hear any sarcasm in the question, so he answered her. “No.”
They walked back to the parking lot and he put the groceries in the back of the Honda. “When do I get to drive?”
“Wait until we get to the dirt road. That way you won’t have to worry about other cars.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Most people learn in an empty lot, not one full of drivers fighting one another for parking spots.”
“Remember, I’m not normal.”
“You have a special ability to drive perfectly the first time?”
He stared ahead, wondering whether to grab the keys. Then he remembered the near crash at the stoplight just before they’d pulled into Wal-Mart. Driving must not be as easy as it looked.
“Okay, you drive until we get clear.”
They settled into the car, and he concentrated on watching her drive. “What’s driving feel like?” He had always wanted to ask that but it seemed like a stupid question.
She took him seriously. “It’s hard to describe. The movement’s the same as being a passenger but more. As the driver, you have the power and the control.” The light turned green and the car zipped forward. “At first, it’s scary, because you’re not sure how much strength to use for the steering and the accelerator. But after practice, it becomes second nature. It’s like—”
“Like holding a gun. Squeezing the trigger seems easy but it takes just the right touch and lots of practice.”
She nodded. “Just like that. And a car can kill too, if you do it wrong.”
“If you do it right?”
She smiled. “It depends on the car and the speed. If it’s safe, there’s nothing like a fast car and an open road. Pure joy.”
“Like my fire. When I let loose, when I don’t try to hold it back, it’s like I’m flying. Or like I’m falling and knowing I’ll never hit bottom and it’s all good.” He sighed and stared at his bandaged hands. “It feels great. Felt great.”
“I don’t think driving quite lives up to that.” She set her mouth in a grim line. “I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am.”
She flushed. From guilt or worry? He let it go and asked a question about stick shifts. This Honda didn’t have one; it was an automatic. He kept up the questions until they hit the dirt road leading to her house. Well, her friend’s house.
He studied the terrain, wondering if the house could be defended from attack. If the Resource found him, would they come up and knock on the front door and ask for him? Like hell they would. They’d treat it like an assault operation.
They’d surround the target before moving in. And, as far as he could tell, they’d have no trouble doing that. The only place to hide might be those woods to the left. The trees ran all the way to the cliff. If you could get across the clearing unseen, it might be good cover.
If the Resource attacked and if he didn’t decide to go back with them voluntarily. He still had doubts about what Beth had told him. He should call them. He should at least call Daz.
“Will my little cabin hold up to assault?” Her voice was dry, not angry.
“Not even close. You don’t care?”
“I never intended to use force to hold you.”
If she was telling the truth, Lansing had pulled a gun on her to take her prisoner. Maybe he’d put off calling Daz. Daz reported to Lansing, after all.
She turned off the Honda and left the keys in the ignition. “Your turn.”
She got out, gesturing to him. He jumped out, rushed to the driver’s side and settled in. He shut the door with a flourish. The steering wheel felt perfect under his hands. He grinned, probably looking like a fool. His palms were sweaty.
“You’re really amazing, Alec.”
“Why?”
“Because one minute, you’re the trained soldier, always on the alert. And the next minute, you have this enthusiasm for learning that’s rare, almost singular. I think that makes you as special as your fire.”
He blinked, not sure what she meant. “So, you going to get in or what?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”
“Sure. I need a witness. And if I screw up, I need back-up.”
“See, I was thinking in case of screw-ups, I’d be safer outside the car.”
“Hah-hah, ’fraidy cat. Some big, bold kidnapper you are, scared of a driving lesson.”
She climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door. “Do your worst.” She closed her eyes and relaxed back into the threadbare seat cushion, smiling. “God help me.”
“You’re gonna pay for that.” He turned the key. The engine roared to life. Success! “That was easy.”
“That was turning a key.”
“You’re a killjoy, counselor.”
“You said you wanted the company. You didn’t say you wanted happy company.”
I want your company. He also wanted his fire back. He took a deep breath and located all the controls and displays. “Hey, could you put on some more Motown music?”
“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on learning to drive?”
“I like music when I’m training. I learned to first control the fire when listening to Ode to Joy. It was fun. I made the fire dance.”
“That must have been incredible to see. But, um, don’t make the car dance.” She turned on the iPod. In a second, “Get ready, ’cause here I come” roared through the speakers.
“Perfect.” He looked around. His legs felt cramped. “Why doesn’t the seat adjust for me?”
“Because it’s a less expensive car and a much older model than you’ve apparently used before. Pull the bar just under the seat to move it back.”
He reached down, found it, and pushed it back until it felt right. He put his foot on the brake. He knew that much from watching Daz and the others. Some cars moved if you didn’t apply the brakes, even if you didn’t hit the gas pedal.
His heart started beating harder. Not as much as before a mission but as much as it did before a training session.
“Here we go.”
He put the Honda in drive, as he’d seen her do. There was suddenly pressure on the brake pedal. A jolt of adrenaline shot through him, all out of proportion to that one small change. He was suddenly glad that she hadn’t let him drive in the parking lot. Not that he’d tell her that.
He pressed the gas pedal. The car lurched forward with a jerk and he nearly lost hold of the wheel.
“Too much at once.”
“I got that.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter. He hated that she could see his nerves. He backed off on the gas, but only a little bit. The ride grew smoother, though this seemed way slower than when she’d been driving.
But he was driving! Hah! He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping time to the song. He pressed harder on the accelerator. They sped up. She
clutched the door handle.
“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” he said.
“Not yet.”
He slowly gained speed, trying to find the right touch that allowed small increases without that jerking movement. He relaxed his grip a little bit and rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension there.
He hit a pothole. The steering wheel pulled hard to the left. The car bounced. He squeezed the steering wheel, vying for control. This was not like a video game.
“The steering is being difficult.”
“Not really. You’re just not used to it.”
“It felt smooth when you drove it.”
“I had practice.”
The Honda hit another pothole, a bigger one. Startled, he almost lost his grip on the wheel. He slowed, not wanting to do that again. That was not fun.
“Don’t bother,” she said.
“With what?”
“Going very slow to miss the potholes. We’re going uphill, so you want to maintain speed. And the shocks can’t get much worse. Just go steady and take the bumps as they come. You’ll learn more about the steering that way.”
He nodded and added pressure on the pedal. Their speed doubled. Beth winced.
“Hey, have faith. Watch this.” He pressed harder. The Honda responded with a burst of speed, pushing his body back into the seat.
He glanced over at her. Her face had gone pale. He’d scared her, a little.
Okay, this was fun.
It was very like squeezing the trigger of a gun. Both required slow and steady movements. Too fast, and a jerk. Too slow, and the car didn’t move enough. As for steering, the car went the way he pointed it but the movements were wider and more out of control than in the video games. It took more finesse and patience.
He could so get used to this.
Except he was running out of road. The house looked close.
“Hit the brake,” she said.
He stomped on it. They bounced forward, and the seat belt tightened to keep him in place. He swore and eased off on the brake.
“Apply it more gradually next time.”
“I figured that out.”
He took his foot off the brake, hit the gas again, slower, and rolled to the end of the driveway. This time, he tapped the brakes. They stopped, nice and easy.
Phoenix Rising Page 10