“Yes. In a couple of hours. When we’d be expected to wake up from our ‘sleep-over’ and would naturally go outside and discover it missing.”
“Our sleep-over.” Again, she experienced a wash of foreboding. What did Mike Eggers want from her? It was all about “we” with him now. She wasn’t a “we”, she was an “I”.
He grinned. “Yeah. Our sleepover.”
She didn’t like his expression. It was presumptuous. It was possessive. Did he think he owned her now? She sat up and placed her cup beside her laptop on the trunk she stored her bedding in and used as a coffee table. “There’s no reason for you to hang around. I could handle this myself.”
He placed his cup beside hers. When had he made himself a coffee? She was losing it. He scoffed, “No way. We’re in this together.”
She arched one eyebrow, a look of what she hoped was disdain on her face. “You don’t trust me?”
He smiled. “I trust you just fine. I never pass important problems to the “B” Team. I do my own work.”
“So, now I’m the “B” team. Nice.” She pressed her mouth closed against saying more and pulled the quilt that hung across the back of the loveseat down and around her. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to get some sleep.”
“Good idea.”
She turned away from him and fit herself into the familiar little couch, knowing there was no chance she would sleep.
Mike was shaking her shoulder, dragging her away from digging, forever digging into the earth, looking for something she’d lost, something terribly important…
“Wake up!” he hissed. “The cops are here!”
She dragged her eyes open, sticky with sleep, struggling to focus on what he was telling her. The police…?
The police! The red water washing ahead of the hose, the pale white body glowing in the dark woods… She shuddered, grasping his arm and pressing her face against his chest. “God, Mike, I can’t do this!”
He whispered. “Yes, you can. You deserve to live a good life. We saved dozens, maybe hundreds of people from that monster.”
She looked up at him, saw strength in his green eyes.
“They’re standing at the door,” he murmured. “You’re a good person. You protect your girls. You do your job and you don’t mess around. We’ve got a plan to get out of this. We work the plan.”
She nodded, swinging her legs free of the quilt and sitting up, but not letting go her grip on Mike. If she let go of him, she might fall and never stop falling.
He grabbed her hand. “Here, put this on.” She watched mutely as he threaded a gaudy diamond engagement ring onto her ring finger.
“W-Where…?”
“It’s a prop. Just go with it.” He pulled her to her feet, hugged her to him and guided her toward the door. The truth was, he was holding her up—her legs were rubber. “Here she is,” he chuckled, “Like I said, ol’ sleepyhead.”
There were two uniformed police officers filling her doorway, their hats sparkling with raindrops, cool, fresh air clinging to them. Their expressions were somber, business-like. “Miss Yee? Cherry Yee?”
“Yes.”
“Your car was stolen last night and set on fire out at The Point in Stanley Park.”
She frowned, confused. It wasn’t a hard sell—she was confused. Why were the police here, telling her about her stolen car? Dozens of cars were stolen every day in the city. The police barely paid attention. “No…” she murmured. “My car’s out front. I was just driving it last night.”
The officers shifted in place. She heard the leather of their holsters creak in protest. Leather. Guns. One cop flipped open his notebook and read off her license plate number, then glanced up at her inquiringly.
She opened her mouth. All she could muster was, “Oh.”
“The Chief of police instructed us to visit you personally as a courtesy, said you are a friend.”
This was not how she thought this would go down. She stared at the two and couldn’t think of a single word to utter. Come on—say something!
Mike gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You’re sure it’s our—I mean, Cherry’s car? You’ll have to excuse my fiancée. She’s a bear when she’s up before noon.” Cherry frowned and tried to move away, but Mike’s grip was strong. He looked down at her. “It was nice of Greg to let you know, right, Honey? We’ll have time to arrange things before your shift tonight.”
She blurted, “They burned my car? But why?” She sounded like an idiot, she knew, but couldn’t stop herself. And they were buying it.
The cop who’d read out her license number flipped his notebook closed. “They think it’s fun. Steal a car, joy ride for a few hours, then set it on fire.” He exchanged glances with his partner. “Good times.”
The other officer nodded and handed her an envelope. “Here’s the police report. We’re sorry to be delivering the news, but the Chief was concerned, and since you’re a personal friend and all… You’ll need this when you reach out to your insurance provider—it was insured?”
“Absolutely,” Mike replied, his expression angry. “Punk kids.” He glanced at Cherry with a show of regret. “Sorry, Honey, I know you like to think the best of everyone, but not everyone is as nice as you are.”
The cops stepped back, restless now with other places to be. “Chief Chesney says to contact him should you have any troubles with this.”
“That…that’s very kind of him,” Cherry managed. “And thank you officers, for taking the time. I know one missing car isn’t a big thing, but…”
“Our pleasure, Miss Yee.” They nodded to her, and to Mike. “You have a better day, now.”
Mike nodded. “Thanks, Officers.” The pair of officers turned and left, with Mike closing the door behind them. He and Cherry stood silent, listening to the two make their way down the hall, waited with them for the elevator to ding its arrival on the twelfth floor, for the doors to slide open, heard them close again and take the officers away.
Cherry sagged against Mike. “Oh, my God. They believed it.”
“Now we have to live it, for at least a couple of weeks. Then you’re quitting Girls, Girls, Girls for good. You’ll never have to go back there again, I promise.”
“What will I do then; where will I go?”
Mike hugged her fiercely against him. He was so strong and steady. He’d literally saved her life—twice. “I’ll take care of everything.”
10
OUTLANDERS: DAY TWO: WEN 2047
THEY MADE it just past Merritt before they were captured, the whole lot of them, in a clever trap that literally funneled them into a boxed area from which there was no escape.
Mattea blamed himself, Wren knew. Though her telepathy was gone, anyone with eyes could see the man was taking responsibility for the mistake. The path had been too clear, too easy, and they had fallen for it. They anticipated resistance closer to the city, not out here in the open countryside.
The good news was their captors were not POE. They were well-armed locals, and they were not amused. The Bear Lake Outlanders were relieved of their weapons, forced to abandon their solar-powered side-by-sides and marched about a mile—maybe—in the darkness, ending finally in a wooded area, where they were secured behind an electrified fence, like animals. Their captors spoke little during the journey, and left them abruptly, scattering into the trees so quickly, Wren could easily believe that they had not been there at all.
She moved closer to Coru and leaned into him. “What now?”
He was considering the fencing, as were the Hanson twins. “We neutralize this fence and carry on.” He glanced at Tom Hanson. “Ideas?”
“We source the current, cut it.”
“How?”
“Haven’t figured that part out just yet. This isn’t high tech, by any standard. Give me some time.” He and his brother Gary walked the perimeter, studying its construction.
Doug squatted on the ground and pulled out some dried meat. “Time to eat.” He handed aro
und the jerky and water. “Once we get out, we’ll have to hoof it.”
While Wren admired his optimism, she held little hope of imminent escape. She thought they might do better talking to whomever was in charge, whenever they showed up. Reason was their strong suit. She bit into her jerky and eyed the top of the fence. Maybe. If whoever was in charge showed up.
Mattea leaned back against a tree, folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. There was nothing relaxed about this stance—he was poised to move at an instant. They all were. Their time was ticking away.
Mario and his father Tony had their heads together and were talking quietly. She knew they were worried about the family they’d left behind. Had Coru been right to ask them to come on this mission?
Tom and Gary jogged back, their long blond hair flying behind them, the sight of the two large men enough to intimidate the most confident of opponents. She was very glad to have them here with her. The world was a safer place with the Hansons on your side. Tom gasped, “Okay, we know how we can get out.”
Still chewing, Coru nodded, shoving the rest of his jerky into his jacket pocket. They all followed the brothers along the fence line, which formed a rough square in the woods. Tom stopped and pointed out a small clearing where a compact generator chugged along quietly. The enclosure and generator made for an effective, but rudimentary, prison. “We dislodge one of the two cables and we’re home free.”
Wren looked at Tom. “On the other side of the electric fence.”
“We shove a tree branch under the fence, there’s a little leeway. Wood won’t conduct. All we need to do is dislodge one cable. Snag it with a branch, give it a tug.”
Mattea was already scouring the few trees inside the enclosure for a loose branch. He had one almost at once, but it was only around fifteen feet long.
“Nothing longer?” Doug asked.
Mattea shrugged and returned to the wooded center of their enclosure.
“Why not lasso the generator and drag it closer?” Mario asked, pulling rope from his pack and looking up at the trees growing close to the fence.
“That’s my boy,” Tony announced, his smile grim as he gauged the distance.
Mario scaled a tree, edged out along a sturdy limb, then quickly formed a loop with his rope. He began swaying with it, back and forth, the creaking limb bouncing under his weight alarmingly with his every action as he eyed the generator before sending the rope sailing over a far-reaching branch above his head and over the fence. The loop landed about a foot short.
No one expressed the disappointment they all felt. Careful to keep the rope from making contact with the fence, Mario flicked the rope back and tried again. First the easy, rhythmic swaying, the intimidating creak of the tree branch, then the gentle, controlled toss. Again, he came up short.
Instead of disappointment, however, Mario grinned down at Wren. “Okay. I think I’ve got it now.”
She smiled encouragement. Tony’s oldest son was full of surprises. Who knew?
He formed the loop once again, tossed once again. This time the loop dropped around the generator like a glove. They all jumped for joy, but remained silent, not knowing how close by their captors were. With a practiced hand, Mario pulled at the rope, let it tighten snuggly around the generator, and slowly, gently, began nudging it loose from where it was dug into the forest floor. It came unwillingly at first, almost tipping. But once Mario had it free, it slid readily across the pine needle forest floor. Wren did a little happy dance as it edged closer and closer.
Mattea was already digging the tree branch under the wire fence, with Doug prying the fence up and away with another chunk of wood. The branch slipped through the narrow opening easily and with a quick flick, Mattea had the wire disconnected from the generator.
In record time, they all scaled the fence and were jogging from the woods, searching for evidence of where their captors had gone. They knew where their vehicles were, so they still had transportation. The loss of weapons was the problem. They needed them back.
After about half an hour, Mattea, who was in lead, held up his hand, then flicked it to the right and to the left for everyone to spread out. He’d found them.
Coru, Wren, Doug and Mario went left, Tom, Gary and Tony went right. Up around a hundred yards, Wren and Coru split again, going left, Doug and Mario right, hurrying past a small, dark farmhouse, its whitewashed clapboards long worn to grey. They came around from behind but stayed within the trees that grew close by. Wiry Tony and the towering Hanson twins ghosted from the forest and crept up to the south side of the house. Encouraged, Doug and Mario flitted to the north side of the building and appeared to have found themselves weapons—an ax and a scythe. Clumsy, but effective in the right situation.
They were stationed at various distances from the darkened house now, their way barely lit by pale moonlight. Except for Mario and Doug’s creativity, they were all weaponless. Drawing closer, Wren’s heart zinged when she spied her bow and quiver leaned carelessly against the outside of the small covered porch, a curiosity, no doubt. A bow was not an easy weapon to handle; it had taken her months to master it. Now, she was deadly accurate.
She eased out into the open, ran lightly across the side yard and along the side of the farmhouse. Reaching the front porch, she grabbed the bow and quiver of arrows, then skirted to the side of the house, fading against the shadowed wall. Coru darted forward, following the same path to the porch she had, only he stepped up onto the porch and trod softly across the floorboards and pressed his ear to the door, listening intently.
After a moment, he crept off the porch and rounded the outside corner to where Wren waited. Crouching beside her, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “They’re discussing their new problem. That would be us. They don’t believe we’re undercover POE, but don’t trust us either.”
Wren had to stand up to lash the quiver of arrows to her thigh. “Let’s go convince them.”
“Hansons go in the back, we go in the front at once—your bow armed. First move they make, you shoot.”
She nodded.
“Just a sec.” Coru eased around the house, passing on the plan, and the ax and scythe from Mario and Doug’s hands into the Hanson’s. Those two hulking men armed even with these rudimentary weapons would frighten anyone they challenged.
Tony was poised at the back door with a two-by-four beside the Hansons, ready to take anyone who burst through. Mario followed his father’s example and armed himself similarly, stationed at the front beside Wren and Coru. Doug would relay the signal from front to back. It wasn’t an elegant plan, but it was the best they could do.
Just when it occurred to Wren that Mattea was not with them, he ghosted to her side with a rifle in his hand and a grin on his face. “Turns out their lookout wasn’t so good,” he murmured, then slipped back to stand with the Hansons. They’d go in with her bow at the front and Mattea’s newly acquired rifle in back. Shock and awe indeed.
Coru nodded, Doug relayed this to the others with a silent hand signal down the side of the house and they all burst inside, Coru shouting, “Stand down and you won’t be killed.”
Wren trained her arrow and narrowed her eyes, sweeping the crowded room menacingly, though the sudden exposure to the surprisingly bright interior made it difficult to focus. The space was an oversized room, sparsely furnished with wooden chairs and a harvest style pine table around which the occupants sat, frozen in place and staring at the intruders with apprehension. The interior was lit with simple homemade candles, lending a softness to the rudimentary nature of the farm house.
The Hansons and Mattea stood, both equally threatening, at the open back door across from Coru and Wren. Wren was careful to keep surprise from her features when she saw women and children huddled amongst the men, everyone sharing a large pot of some sort of stew, which smelled delicious. The flickering candlelight revealed startled, then wary expressions all around. She could see already these people were no threat. She wanted to toss her j
erky, pull up a bowl, and join them.
Coru stepped forward, his palms raised. “We don’t want trouble. We want our weapons back and we’ll be on our way.”
Someone snorted. “Yeah, we give ‘em back and you turn them against us. We’re not idiots.”
Coru searched the faces for the speaker.
One man stood up, an older, grisly man, who had not been among their captors. White whiskers dotted his deeply lined face, his hair was long and white, its length brushing his still broad, though stooped shoulders. “What are your terms?”
“Return our weapons; we leave you in peace.”
Silence fell over the room.
A little boy burst into tears and a work-worn woman moved to take him into her arms.
Now I’m threatening children?
Wren lowered her bow, easing the tension on the string. “We don’t want to hurt you. We have family at home, just like you. We’re here to stop New Pacifica from running us all over. We have only ten days to make this happen. We’re not lying; we’re desperate.”
There was another silence, except for the whimpering boy. Another man stood, this one a younger version of the first, the lines of age lighter on his face, the white in his hair touching only his temples. “How do we know we can trust you?”
Mattea said, “You’ll have to take us at our word. You stopped us, we didn’t stop you. We were past this place, on track for New Pacifica. We have no quarrel with you folks.”
“Why so hot for New Pacifica?” the younger man prodded, exchanging glances with the older man, who Wren pegged as his father.
Coru’s eyes met Mattea’s across the room before he glanced at the Hansons, the Antonellis, both of whom were now inside, each with his two-by-four still poised, though now hesitantly in light of the women and children present. His gaze ended with Wren.
A woman barked, “Shut the door at least. We don’t need a lighted beacon leading the POE straight to our door.”
Then a sweet voice pierced Wren’s head, Why’s that lady so mad at us?
Cursed Apprentice (Earth Survives Book 2) Page 16