“You got any napkins?”
“Yeah, they’re in the glove box. Grab them for me and I’ll clean up when we pull into this station up here. You go ahead and pump the gas while I’m cleaning up, and keep an eye out for those highway patrol cars.”
“Got it.” Adam sized up the little gas station as they steered off the highway onto the concrete of the parking lot.
It wasn’t much to look at.
It featured a single island of gas pumps in front of a simple square building that looked to be made out of cheap, beige aluminum siding and a few moderately sized windows. A weathered plywood sign swinging on a frame between the gas pumps promised mesquite smoked BBQ and venison sausages. It didn’t look like the place had a pay at the pump feature, which didn’t matter since he didn’t have a debit or credit card under his new identity anyway. He did have a couple of twenties in his wallet, so they would have to do.
Then, remembering Antonio’s request for napkins, he opened the van’s glove box and peered inside. He spotted a wad of paper napkins, pulled them out, then stopped at the sight of the object revealed behind them. His heart came up into his throat as he realized what he must be looking at.
“Ummm…Antonio?”
“Yes?
“What’s this for?” Adam pulled out a clear plastic baggy, stuffed full of dried green plant matter.
Antonio stared at the baggy in obvious confusion. He looked up at Adam with an expression of blank surprise, then returned his gaze to the bag in Adam’s hand.
“Uh oh,” he finally observed.
“Uh oh?” Adam tried not to squeak. “That’s it? Uh oh? Antonio, there are a couple of Highway Patrol coming up behind us, and we’re in a van that looks like it’s a recruiting vehicle for the Grateful Dead! Now we find a fat bag of weed in the glove box? We’re way past ‘uh oh’ here! Where did this come from?”
“Cristobal must have left it in the van. I had him in charge of customizing it for this trip.”
“Cristobal? Your butler-manservant-whatever-he-is smokes dope?”
“I run a secret organization, not a boy scout troop.”
“Oh, good grief! Okay, fine. I’ll toss it in the trash on the way in to the store.” Adam reached for the handle and opened the door of the van.
“Adam. There’s an old man sitting over there in the rocker by the ice machine who would see you. Not to mention the teller and the customers inside at the window. Besides, that baggy has your finger prints all over it now.”
“Oh, crap!”
“It’s okay,” Antonio soothed. “Leave the bag with me and go get the gas. I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’ve had a little experience bending the law here and there. Just go get the gas.”
Adam reluctantly handed over the bag and stepped out of the van. He wondered what Antonio thought he could do with the thing, short of eating it, that would conceal it from an inquisitive police officer…and he couldn’t picture even a guy as big as Antonio eating an entire bulging Ziploc baggy full of pot.
“I have no idea what the maniac will do,” he muttered as he hobbled across the parking lot toward the store. He noticed out of the corner of his eye how the old man in the rocker followed him with his eyes.
He probably watches everybody. It’s not like he has a hell of a lot else to do. So stop being paranoid about the drugs. The Highway Patrol will be by in a few minutes and we can be on our way.
Adam opened the door and stepped inside.
The portly, middle-aged cashier gave him a long look as he came in, and Adam reminded himself a lot of people dressed this way nowadays…not just hippies with baggies full of pot in their van who happened to have Highway Patrolmen chasing them. He plopped a twenty on the counter, and tried to not look like a drug dealer in a big hurry while telling the cashier to give them gas on pump one.
The cashier gave him a long, measured look under bushy white eyebrows before taking the twenty and flipping the switches to the gas pump. Adam thanked him, then mentally kicked himself as nobody thanked a cashier for taking their money…except hippies trying to look casual while riding in vans full of pot while being chased by the Highway Patrol, of course.
With an unnecessary nod at the two farmer types eating breakfast burritos at a little table near the window, Adam fled the building and headed back to the gas pumps. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the store boring into his back as he left.
“How’s it going in there?” Adam called toward the front of the van as he opened the gas cap and put in the nozzle from the pump. He figured those napkins had simply smeared the BBQ sauce and made the mess worse, an assumption confirmed by the dim outline of Antonio pulling his shirt off over his head through the tinted bubble window. He saw him get out of his seat and move into the rear of the van…probably hunting another shirt.
“C’mon Antonio, hurry it up,” Adam grumbled. Suddenly this idea of waiting and letting the Highway Patrol pass by didn’t seem very smart at all. He could hear the man moving around in the back of the van, probably hiding the stash somewhere he thought would be safer. Adam tried not to think about it, and turned to watch the numbers on the gas pump scroll by.
At these day’s prices, the race to twenty dollars was mercifully short.
Another quick look down the highway still showed no Highway Patrol, but Adam knew the time must be about run out. He made an effort to move quickly, and with precision, as he returned the nozzle to the gas pump then began screwing on the gas cap. A few more seconds and he would be back in the van. He hoped Antonio was back in the driver’s seat and ready to go.
That’s when the side door to the van slid open.
“Here, hold this.” Antonio handed Adam a tall, pole-like object. Adam took it automatically, dismayed at this further delay in their departure. Then that dismay turned into confusion as he got a better look at the object he held.
The pole was made of wood, and stood taller than Adam. It had a crosspiece at the top, forming a T-shape that appeared to have the skin of a coyote or dog draped over it. The head of the pelt still snarled at the world from the top of the pole, while the rest of the skin hung down the back. Even stranger, two large black-and-gold spiders hung from strings under the cross piece on each side of the pole. Each were at least five inches across, making them either the biggest spiders of the species Adam had ever seen, or more likely models. Several feathers, either eagle or turkey hung from the bottom of the skin and the two ends of the cross pieces. Some kind of blue card hung from the middle of the thing.
Overall, it was a grisly piece of work.
“What the hell, Antonio?” Adam began, then gaped in astonishment at his companion as he stepped out of the van.
Antonio had removed his hippie garb.
He had an impressive physique for a man his age, or any age for that matter. It was obviously the result of both good genetics and a lot of time spent in the weight room. But what drew Adam’s astounded attention were the tattoos that swirled over his powerful body.
They were large, black, and obviously tribal in nature. Like two ebony snakes, they started at his knees, spiraled up his muscular thighs before branching out and coiling across his torso. They parted at his chest to twine across his broad shoulders, and then from there they snaked down his arms in a way obviously calculated to enhance his already large biceps.
They were also the only things covering the man’s body.
“Eeeyeaaaa…err…uh…Antonio?” Adam stammered.
“Just a minute, Adam,” the naked man replied politely. “And please, hold the totem higher. We need everybody in there to get a good look at it."
Too shocked to argue, Adam did as he was told while Antonio turned to face the store.
Raising his arms high, Antonio let out a long ululating wail. The effect was primal and savage, and his long mane of gray hair only enhanced the edge of wildness that emanated from the man.
“What the hell?” Adam
croaked.
“Not now, Adam. Keep holding up that totem, please. It’s vital they notice it."
Adam could only nod in mute confusion as Antonio raised his arms and started chanting in some language he didn’t recognize. He didn’t speak Spanish, but he knew it when he heard it and this was something else. It sounded Native American, and one look at Antonio in his current get up made it obvious that was his heritage. The man shouted another string of words, and then gave a long, drawn-out cry.
Mortified, and not knowing what else to do, Adam held the long pole higher; although he felt pretty sure he could be juggling live chickens in a Santa suit and not get noticed due to the spectacle beside him.
“Okay, that ought to about do it,” Antonio remarked with casual aplomb and opened the driver’s door to the van. “Just lean the totem against the gas pump there, but please don’t let it fall over. Then hurry up and jump in the van.”
“Wha…” Adam protested but did as instructed with the pole. “I don’t think so! I’m not getting back in that van until you put some clothes on!”
“Adam.” Antonio closed his door and spoke out the open side door. “They should have reached their firearms by now and will be shooting any second.”
“Who could blame them? You just waved your dork at a BBQ stand! What the hell were…holy shit!” Adam yelled as men with rifles suddenly burst out the door of the little store. These people really were about to start shooting!
Using his arms to augment his weakened legs, he grabbed the edge of the sliding door and jerked himself into the van just as the engine roared to life. Scrambling on the floorboard, he made no attempt to reach out and slide the door closed behind him. Instead, he pulled himself into the rear of the van, between the luggage and curled up to present as small a target as possible.
Shots rang out at the same time he heard the wheels of the van scream as they spun out against the concrete.
“Pull the door closed,” Antonio yelled back as the van slewed on the concrete slab and he fought to get it pointed at the highway.
“Screw that!” Adam shouted from under a suitcase. “They’re shooting at us! I’m not sticking my head out there!”
“The door is armored! We need it closed! Just stick your arm out there and grab it!”
As much as he hated it, Adam realized Antonio was right. With the door open, a shot could come in and through Antonio’s seat. And if Antonio went down, he knew he wouldn’t be far behind.
Adam thrashed his way out of the tumbled luggage and pulled himself over to the door. This turned out to be difficult with the van swerving and fishtailing on the concrete, and for one awful moment Adam thought he might get thrown headfirst out the open side door. Then he managed to catch the back of the driver’s seat and brace himself.
“Will you drive straight? This ain’t easy, you know!”
A shot sailed in through the door and spider-webbed the windshield.
“Adam, please close the door.”
“Right!”
Changing his grip from the driver’s seat to the seat belt latch, he reached across the open, rushing void and grabbed the handle to the door. As he did, another bullet whined past his ear and exploded the Coke bottle he had in the cup holder between the seats.
“I…am…not…getting…shot…again!” he wailed as he strained against the inertia of the skewing van and tried to pull the door shut. Centrifugal force fought him for a few seconds, making the feat seem impossible. Something in his shoulder caught fire, and he wondered if he was undoing all of Olivia’s handiwork. Then Antonio got the van onto the highway and straightened the vehicle’s course.
No longer fighting physics, Adam managed to heave the door closed and landed on his rump behind the passenger’s seat.
“Thank you,” Antonio called back good-naturedly. “You might want to get up here and buckle in. They’ll be chasing us in a second.”
“They will?” Adam pulled himself up between the chairs and took a seat. “What about the Highway Patrol? And what the hell was that all about?”
“I’m afraid there is no Highway Patrol.” Antonio watched his mirrors as the van tore down the highway. “But on the bright side, the stuff in the baggie is merely dried alfalfa so you can put your mind at rest on that.”
“But what about the shot you took? You injected yourself with veneno, even though you said it would be too dangerous around your enemies.”
“No, I injected myself with a psi blocker.”
“You mean the whole thing…scaring the hell out of me…was just a lie?” Adam glared as he pulled his seat belt down and snapped it shut. “Why in the hell would you do that?”
“So you would be thinking about something other than our adversaries, and your upcoming encounter with them, when I sent you into the store. This way, even with a store full of mind readers, you came across as exactly what you appeared…a worried hippie. I told you, everything I do is for a reason…especially things regarding your ‘need to know.’ We are dealing with telepaths, remember?”
“You unbelievable bastard! You mean those were the people who have Tucker?”
“And the people trying to kill you. But since none of them have ever met you, they wouldn’t recognize you by looks alone.”
“But why the hell send me in at all?”
“Because I needed you out of the way while I prepared the totem. If you had seen my preparations they would have picked up on it through you and been alerted to who we were in an instant. Besides, we needed gas.”
“As long as there was a good reason…” Adam kept his head low but tried to use the side mirror to see behind him. “So do I need to grab a gun or something and start shooting back?”
“No.” Antonio watched his mirrors. “That’s not why we’re here. Besides, they’ve stopped shooting…and they’re not chasing us.”
Adam twisted himself into a better position to use the side mirror and could see the highway behind them lay empty. The store itself receded in the distance. Not believing this good fortune, he unbuckled and crawled back to the rear door of the van. Looking out the window still produced no sign of pursuit.
“Nope, there ain’t nobody back there,” he shouted up to the front. “It looks like we’re in the clear.
“Maybe,” Antonio called back, “and maybe that’s an even better thing than you realize. Usually they would have pursued us, at least to the edge of their territory. Or, on the other hand, they may have called to somebody ahead in order to cut us off. You might want to come back up here and strap back in…just in case.”
Adam stumbled back to his seat. He buckled in again, and glanced over to see Antonio smiling broadly at him.
“What are you so happy about?” Adam asked.
“We’re alive,” his companion laughed. “I count that as a good thing, don’t you?”
“Well, I haven’t had time to think about it yet. I’m still getting over the ‘Holy shit, they’re shooting at us while I’m in a van with a naked man’ thing.”
Adam tried to steady his breathing as the van raced down the road. The absence of any vehicles behind them made it a lot easier, but the bullet hole in the windshield served as a reminder of how close he had come to getting his head blown off. He also realized that a mere couple of inches to the right and the dripping soda from the exploded coke bottle would have been his blood instead.
“Okay, I’m over the ‘Holy shit, they’re shooting at us’ part. Can I start my nervous breakdown now? I’ll do that while you pull over and put some clothes on!”
“Um, you might want to hold off on that.” Antonio squinted out the cracked windshield at the road ahead. “This might not be over yet.”
“Huh?” Adam sat up and focused to the front. “I don’t see anything. Well, other than the bridge coming.”
“That’s the Brazos, Adam. It’s the current edge of our adversaries’ territory. But I call your attention to the end of the guardrail on the right.”
Adam leaned forward and
peered through cracked glass at the distant structure. He wondered what kind of eyesight Antonio had if he could spot things at this range. Narrowing his eyes, he could barely make out a figure standing at the end of the guardrail, on the passenger side of the road.
“Okay, I see him. You think it’s one of them? He’s just standing there.” Then Adam’s eyes widened in recognition of the approaching figure. “No wait…that’s a her. Oh shit! Are you kidding me?”
“Do you know any other tall blondes with long braids and enormous pistols?”
Adam experienced a wave of despair at the sight of the woman who stood waiting at the bridge ahead. It was the Hell-Valkyrie from the hospital. This would be the third time he encountered her, but he wasn’t conscious for the first one and had only caught a glimpse of her while diving into a car the second time. The first time he woke up later to discover three men had died trying to protect him, the second time he had been shot himself.
“So now we know why they stopped chasing us,” he groaned.
Antonio didn’t answer, but continued staring at the distant figure with a thoughtful expression. He slowed the van to a stop, tapping his finger on the wheel.
“Okay,” Adam muttered, “where are the guns? I’m tired of getting carried away from these encounters unconscious, then waking up to find somebody else has been killed. This time I’m shooting back.”
“Hold on, Adam. That may not be necessary.” Antonio continued tapping the wheel, gazing at the distant woman.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she should already be shooting at us. We’re in her effective range, and we’re sitting here providing easy targets.”
“That’s good to know.” Adam frowned. “So why are we just sitting here being easy targets?”
“We’re sitting here to see if she will shoot at us,” Antonio said as if stating the obvious.
“Well, don’t start waving anything at her, for God's sake!”
“Relax, Adam. I think it’s going to be okay. I don’t think she’s going to shoot.”
Spiderstalk Page 21