Hunted

by S W Vaughn

  "We both need rest.” Megan sat up straighter and looked around. “Look, there's a huge tree over there. See how low the branches are? It's probably pretty comfortable underneath. We could sleep for a while. They can't find us here ... can they?"

  Grace followed her gaze. “They can't. But what about wolves or bears? We don't know where we are."

  Megan giggled. “Don't worry. Even if they're around, they won't bother us. We're not bleeding and we don't have any food.” She grinned. “Girl Scouts. Mom insisted."

  "Good. Maybe after we rest, you can find some water.” Grace managed a smile that felt like lifting a hundred pounds with her lips. “Wish it wasn't so far away."

  "Okay. It's my turn."

  "Huh?” Grace blinked and her head snapped up. She'd almost passed out. Megan's voice seemed distant and lost.

  "You helped me. Now I'm helping you."

  Grace felt herself lifted from the ground. She sensed Megan beside her, helping her stumble toward a dark green blur she assumed was the tree. She surrendered willingly and let oblivion take her the instant they stopped moving.

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  Chapter 15

  Lorin watched the last human, an elderly woman who leaned on the arm of a conductor, step from the train at the Syracuse station. The Nephil had not been among them.

  Annoyed, she moved down the platform toward the opposite entrance for a better view of the remaining cars. The station itself lay behind her. They had searched thoroughly in case the train had arrived early, but it was not here. The chances it had slipped past her were slim. Perhaps it had fallen asleep. She would wait a few more moments.

  Silver stood beneath the elevated track awaiting orders. If she peered under the train, she could just make out his motionless silhouette. He seemed to have returned to his usual state of unquestioning obedience. She had followed through on her threat—used a bullwhip to tear most of the skin from his back and chest and legs, and forbidden him to heal for a full day. She'd allowed him to repair himself just before they had come here. He would not trouble her further.

  When the humans waiting on the platform began to board, the Nephil had still not emerged. Her annoyance approaching anger, Lorin Reached to the silent specter below. Silver, where is it?

  He paused too long for her liking. I ... can't sense her.

  What? Twofold fury enveloped Lorin. The Nephil was more intelligent than she'd credited, and Silver had called it “her.” She could not let him cultivate interest in the creatures. Stay there. Keep searching for it. It, Silver. Understand?

  Yes, Lorin.

  Her gaze swept the platform a final time. No sign of it or the companion it had spoken with at the station in Utah. Lorin descended the stairs, made her way to the station exit, and doubled back past the parking lot toward the tracks. She located Silver and demanded, “Well?"

  "I sense nothing. She. It. Is not here."

  He flinched in anticipation of a blow. Lorin sneered. “I'll punish you later. I want to find it. And when I do, you will take your time killing it."

  Silver said nothing, but she felt a reaction from him. A wordless moan.

  "Does this displease you?"

  Nnnnn...

  "Answer, damn you!"

  "No, Lorin."

  His voice broke on the words. Lorin summoned just enough power to stiffen her fingers into claws, and raked deep furrows across his face. He gasped and closed his eyes against the pain.

  "Don't lie to me."

  "Y-yes. It displeases me."

  "Why?"

  "I do not know."

  "You don't know.” Lorin's jaw clenched. Fear whispered in the back of her mind, suggested Silver might finally be coming apart. She pushed the idea behind a fresh wave of anger. “What are the Nephilim?"

  Silver swallowed. “Dirty mules."

  "And?"

  "Blights on Creation."

  "Who else does this describe?"

  "Me,” Silver whispered.

  "That's right. And what is your purpose?"

  "To obey my mother. Wipe out the Nephilim. Redeem ... my existence."

  "So you do have something resembling a brain. You want to redeem your existence, don't you, Silver?"

  "Yes."

  "Yes?"

  "Yes, Lorin."

  "Good. Your answers are satisfactory. When we find the Nephil, as long as you do what you're told with it, I won't punish you."

  A visible tremor worked through Silver. He dropped his gaze.

  Lorin considered the options for tracking the Nephil. It had been scheduled to change trains in Illinois yesterday afternoon. If it knew she had found where it was going, it may have altered its course from there. By now though, the trail from Chicago would be cold, difficult even for Silver to follow. She thought back to what she'd taken from its mind before it had started to resist her. The mother would be useless; it avoided contact with her. And they had already destroyed the police officer it recalled.

  The memory it had struggled to retain held potential. Lorin had gleaned a few words. Comp Roberts. A human name, she surmised, albeit an odd one. The Nephil had associated it with something ... pleasant? Happy. But not the emotion. Another name. Happy Gringo. Both Comp Roberts and Happy Gringo could be found in Las Vegas.

  They would start there. Through fear or pain, one of them would cooperate.

  * * * *

  Grace woke gradually to warmth and unfamiliar surroundings. Clean, sweet air filled her lungs and brought a bouquet of natural perfume to her nose. Megan lay stretched alongside her, breathing evenly, the pallor of health returned to her skin. The soft light of early morning brushed the curtain of branches around them.

  She eased away from the sleeping girl, sat up and stretched. If she'd slept for a year, she doubted she would feel this refreshed. Maybe she could live in the woods forever. Build herself a log cabin, learn to survive off the land, and avoid all the complications of greed, curiosity and fear other people tended to cause.

  First, though, she had to find her father. And make sure Megan would be safe.

  Their bags were propped against the trunk of the tree. Megan must have helped her get them off because she didn't remember doing it. She pulled out her laptop and fired it up. A single bar of battery life remained. Not that it mattered—she could power it just as easily as the battery. She would charge it the next time she had access to an outlet. Whenever that might be.

  Her e-mail yielded two new messages. Both from Comp, both no subject. One was significantly larger, with attachments. She opened that one first.

  You will not evade me again. If this SARET does not destroy you, I will. Your friend is quite knowledgeable. He sends his regards and regrets that he cannot type them himself with broken fingers. And legs. I spared him. I will not spare you.

  "No!"

  Her shout woke Megan. The girl wrenched from the ground, tousled and bleary-eyed. “What? A bear? Where ... Grace!” She scooted over with fear etched on her features. “What happened?"

  Grace gestured to the screen. Megan looked.

  "Oh my God. Is that..."

  "The redhead. The psycho bitch. She found Comp.” The words stuck in her throat like bones. “I shouldn't have gotten him involved."

  "Comp?"

  "I met him in Vegas. He's ... into research. He was looking into SARET for me and she...” Grace drew a shaking breath. “She only had his name. And she found him."

  Megan frowned and pointed at the bottom of the screen. “What's this about?"

  The attachments. She'd forgotten about them. The tops of three dark squares showed beneath the threatening message. Images. Grace didn't want to see them. She scrolled down anyway, and shoved a fist against her mouth to stifle another scream. The thumbnails revealed enough without fully opening the photos.

  There were six altogether. Two showed Comp's hands, twisted and bent at unnatural angles, the fingers splayed and limp. One captured him from the waist down, lying on the floor. His legs loo
ked wrong. Almost backwards. The final three photos revealed heaps of wreckage that used to be his equipment. Smashed monitors, splintered CPUs, tables cracked in two with legs torn off. Unidentifiable fragments littered the floor.

  Megan gasped. “Did she bomb the place?"

  "No. They don't need bombs. I told you what that monster can do.” She backed out to her inbox and moved the pointer to the remaining unread message with a trembling finger. “At least this one isn't illustrated.” She clicked on no subject and read:

  kitten voice recognition software god a love it

  your friends are brutal but I have names lore in silver

  don't worry I'm a big boy watch yourself

  stay alive you owe me I'm charging double for this

  Grace sobbed, though the message elicited a wry smile. “Comp, if I make it through this, I'll pay you triple,” she murmured. She checked the time on the message. 6:49 AM. Half an hour after the one the witch sent. At least he was still alive. “Lore in silver. That's a name?"

  "It says ‘names,’ right?” Megan inched closer and squinted at the screen. “VR makes weird mistakes. I've used it a few times. He probably said ‘gotta’ where it put in ‘god a'. There's two of them. Silver, and ... Lorin, maybe?” She shook her head. “What kind of name is Silver?"

  "The kind a nut job who thinks she's an angel gives herself.” Grace shivered at the memory of the dream and the silver fluid she'd come away from it with. The first remark the woman made to her back in Vegas returned clearly: I've marked you, Nephilim scum. Was that what she'd done?

  Grace signed out and shut the laptop down. “Sorry about the rough wake-up call. We should get moving. Try and find some civilization. Or at least some food and water."

  "It doesn't seem very civilized out there lately.” Megan stood and brushed at the pine needles clinging to her clothes. “Grace, what are we going to do?"

  "I don't know. For starters, find somewhere safe.” If there's anywhere safe left.

  "I heard that."

  The comment startled laughter from Grace. “At least we're both back up to speed.” She stowed her computer, shouldered her bags, and handed Megan's to her. “We should probably keep wearing the contacts just in case we run into anyone out here. But we need to clean them before we start moving. Trust me, we'll feel it soon if we don't."

  "I think I'm feeling it already.” Megan blinked a few times. “Almost forgot about them. I wondered why my eyes felt so dry."

  Without a handy sink, Grace made sure they doused the hell out of the lenses. She finished first, waited for Megan, and replaced her dwindling supply of saline. They'd need more soon. “Okay. Which way should we head?"

  "Um ... well, I think we're supposed to look for moss on the trees or something."

  "Or something?” Grace blinked at her. “Moss doesn't grow on pine trees."

  "Then we should follow a stream."

  "We need to find a stream first."

  "Hmph.” Megan shrugged. “What about spitting in the wind?"

  "You're some Girl Scout."

  "What do you want? I never made it out of Brownies.” Megan smiled. “At least I can tell you what's safe to eat and what's not. And I weave a mean basket."

  Grace shook her head, smirked. “Let's just walk. Eventually we'll find something. Maybe a stream, or some moss."

  "Or a road sign."

  "Yeah, that'll work.” Grace parted the branches and held them for Megan. After a moment's hesitation, she headed left in the direction of the wind. She decided to skip the spitting part.

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  Chapter 16

  It took most of the morning to find a stream. To Grace, the clear cold water tasted like rain smelled—fresh and green, full of promise. Unfortunately, it also amplified the emptiness of her stomach.

  "See anything to eat yet?"

  Megan straightened from the stream and rubbed water from her face with a sleeve. “No. You?"

  "I don't know. I've seen a few bushes with little red berries on them."

  "We probably shouldn't eat those."

  Grace sighed. “Why not? They might be all right. I read in a book once about a girl in the woods who survived on them for days. Said they tasted like mint or something."

  "Yeah, but this isn't a book. Red usually means poison, and I can't tell the difference between checkerberries and bird-berries."

  "I'm starving.” Grace perched on a flat rock and laughed. “Actually, I'm not. I just feel like I should be since I know there isn't any food around."

  Megan sat next to her. “I know what you mean. I'd sell my soul for a hamburger right now.” She stared into the endless trees. A moment later, she yanked her notebook out of her bag and scribbled something down, paused, hummed a bit. She crossed out, froze with pen poised over paper and scrawled a few more words.

  Grace tried not to pry, but she couldn't resist asking, “Are you writing a song about hamburgers?"

  "No!” Megan giggled and a blush crept over her cheeks. “And I'm not telling you what I did write down, either. I'm working on your song. It's a surprise."

  "Really?” Grace stared at her hands, uncertain what to say. She'd never had close friends, and her family consisted of ... well, her mother. Not exactly pleasant company, considering the woman had barely acknowledged her existence until she thought she could use her for something.

  After a few minutes of writing and scratching out, Megan stowed her notebook and stretched. “Well, we found water. Now what? Do we follow the stream?"

  "Sure. I don't have any better ideas."

  They walked with the flow, accompanied by the steady whisper of water and the crackle of vegetation underfoot. The ground seemed to slant steadily down. As they progressed, the stream widened, the banks became steeper. The water flowed faster, its surface bubbling and foaming at points to create inverted-v shapes. Grass and tangled brush beneath them gave way to rock. Ahead, the rushing sound became a roar.

  Grace and Megan slowed and finally stopped a few feet from the point where the ground fell away, and the water cascaded in streams and shimmering spray to the rocks below.

  "Well. Maybe we'd better start looking for moss.” Suddenly weary and feeling the first real pangs of hunger, Grace picked her way back from the cliff. She sat on the first relatively smooth rock that presented itself. “I'm sorry."

  Megan made her way over. “Sorry for what? I'm the Girl Scout flunky, remember?” A halfhearted smile surfaced and she took a seat on the next rock over.

  "I shouldn't have brought us here. It was stupid. I mean, for all I know we could be in Canada somewhere. Or France. Hell, maybe an alternate universe. We could walk for days and never find our way out of this.” Grace closed her eyes, hung her head. “You've got someone waiting for you. You have a life and I took you away from it."

  Grace felt something warm around her shoulders. She looked up to find Megan next to her, wearing an earnest expression.

  "Don't apologize for saving me. If you hadn't taken us out of there, I'd be on my way back to my stepfather right now."

  "I guess. But..."

  "No buts. I couldn't have stopped those two even if I wasn't sick."

  "I had some trouble with it myself.” Grace straightened. “Don't know if I told you, but I couldn't read them at all. I just couldn't find their minds."

  Megan offered a nervous laugh. “Maybe they didn't have minds. Brainless thugs."

  "Maybe. But I'm worried that they might have something to shield their thoughts. Like the stuff your stepfather gave you to suppress your abilities."

  "So no one like us would be able to tell who they were, or what they were doing until it's too late."

  "Exactly.” A shiver trailed Grace's spine. “And that means no matter where we go, we'll never be safe."

  "Maybe we should just build a house out here and learn to like eating rabbits. If we can find any."

  Grace burst into laughter. “That's pretty much what I was thinking yesterday."


  "Well, I am a mind-reader, you know.” Megan giggled with her. “If we do find any rabbits, I think I'll let you skin them."

  Their laughter died down gradually. After a moment, Grace drew a breath and said, “It's a nice thought, but we can't hide forever. And trust me, you don't want to keep running. We have to do something. I just don't know what yet."

  "We'll figure it out. Right now, I'd settle for some food. Doesn't even have to be a rabbit.” Megan gazed out over the rolling stream and a smile crept across her face. “I think our first problem is solved. Look.” She pointed.

  Grace followed the gesture. On the opposite bank, the ground dipped down into a shallow tangle of bushes with serrated leaves, shaded by towering pines. She squinted. A few flashes of pale pink-red nestled between the leaves. “I thought you said the red ones might be poisonous."

  "Not those red ones. Come on!” Megan bounded to her feet, grabbed Grace's hand, and pulled her toward the stream. “You don't mind getting a little wet, do you?"

  "If it means food? Hell, no."

  "Good.” Grinning now, Megan splashed down and slogged forward. The water rose past her knees at the stream's midpoint. Grace followed, and tried to ignore the cold shock that embraced her legs. Megan reached the opposite side and waited while Grace floundered up the bank. “I was right,” Megan said. “Check it out."

  Grace regarded the bushes again. This time she noticed, in addition to the occasional pink specimen, glossy blackberries clung to the branches, clusters thick enough to weigh them down in places.

  "Early blackberries.” Megan bent to pluck a few from the closest bush. She held one out to Grace and popped another in her mouth. “Oh my God, I don't think I've ever tasted anything this good in my life. I don't even miss the whipped cream."

  Grace accepted the berry. It felt cool on her palm and tasted like heaven on her tongue. Sweet, full and bursting with juice, the tangy aftertaste left her drooling for more.