by Nina Croft
“We have two for emergencies,” Liz said. “We also have an inflatable life raft.”
“Get them.”
Liz nodded and hurried away, Pete close behind her. Mel still had the pistol in her hand and she checked the safety and shoved it into her jacket pocket.
Quinn crouched down beside Kaitlin. Mel watched as he stroked the hair from her face, his fingers tugging the bright pink streak. “I like this.”
Kaitlin twisted her lips into a smile. A fine sheen of sweat gleamed on her forehead, and her eyes were bright. “You do?” She sounded almost disappointed.
“But I bet Kane would hate it,” he added.
The smile grew. “Yeah. Fucker.”
“Who’s Kane?” Mel asked. Had they mentioned him before?
“Kaitlin’s boyfriend,” Quinn said with a grin.
A laugh escaped Kaitlin, and she winced. “Ouch.”
“Are you going to be okay?” Mel asked.
“I haven’t a lot of choice. I have no intention of sacrificing myself for the greater good. I’m getting out of here. Which means you’re carrying me. How’s Martin?”
Mel crossed to where he lay on the floor, his eyes closed, but breathing steady. “Fine, I think. But still out cold.”
The other two hadn’t reappeared yet. “Can we trust them?” she asked.
“For now. They’re both still in shock. The pilot was a friend, as well as a colleague. They’re not functioning at full capacity right now. Hopefully, we’ll be away from here by the time they are.”
They appeared at that moment, Pete carrying a large bundle, presumably the raft. Mel didn’t want to think about that too closely. Bobbing about on the swamp with only a thin layer of plastic between her and the treacherous water. Icy fear twisted around her heart.
Pete hefted the bundle out the open doorway, keeping hold of a rope at one end, which he tied to the rail on the open door. He reached out and pulled at something on the side and the whole thing exploded, unfolding, growing, flattening out. In only seconds, a raft lay on the water. It didn’t look substantial enough to stay afloat with all of them in it. Maybe she should offer to stay behind.
Liz was pulling two lightweight stretchers behind her—just poles with red material between. She dropped one beside Martin, then carried the other to Kaitlin.
“Get ready for some bad language,” Kaitlin muttered.
“Just scoot yourself down, so you’re lying on your back, and we’ll shift you across.”
The girl swallowed. “You know, they tortured me once or twice—though they didn’t call it that. They had some scientific research name for it. I didn’t tell them anything. In fact, I spat in their faces. I can take pain. I just wanted you to know that, in case I scream or something.”
When and where had she been tortured? She seemed too young to have gone through so much.
Quinn rested a hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently down. Her face was tight with concentration, but she didn’t scream. Probably because her lower lip was clamped hard in her teeth. Finally, she lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
“Support her feet,” Quinn said.
Mel crouched down beside her and slipped her hand under Kaitlin’s ankles, feeling a shudder run through her. She kept her gaze fixed on Quinn. He gave a nod and pushed his hands beneath her, picking her up a few inches. Mel lifted her ankles, so they wouldn’t be jolted, and moved with him as he shifted Kaitlin sideways and lowered her onto the stretcher.
There wasn’t a sound.
“She’s passed out,” Mel said, looking at Kaitlin’s pale face. Her lashes lay across her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted, with a trickle of blood on her chin from where she’d bitten through her lip. Quinn leaned across and wiped the blood away with his thumb.
“Probably for the best,” he said. “And not surprising after all that scotch.” He stood staring down at her. “She’s tough. She’ll be fine. Come on, one more.” But in fact, Liz and Pete were already in the process of lifting Martin onto the second stretcher.
“Okay, we’ve got five minutes. Let’s get anything we can think of that might be useful. Blankets, water, the first aid kit. Any food and drink. We might have to stay out tonight if the tracks and roads are blocked.
Liz nodded, then went to a locker at the front and pulled out a bundle of bags.
“Blankets are over there.” She handed a bag to Quinn and waved at another set of lockers.
“I’ll go check the radio one last time,” Pete said, disappearing into the cockpit.
“You can come with me,” Liz said, and Mel followed her out through the door in the rear of the cabin and into a small kitchenette. “Hold the bag open.” Mel did as she was instructed and watched as Liz methodically opened the cabinets and emptied the contents into the open bag. Packets of food—many of which she didn’t recognize, except for bread—she recognized that at least—quickly piled up. And fruit. Liz examined the contents of a large fridge, selected a few items and added them.
“Do you think we’re going to need all this stuff?” Mel asked. She presumed they would be out maybe one night at the most, depending on the terrain they had to cross with the stretchers.
“Right now, I have no clue what we’ll need. But it’s easier to dump it later than come back for it. The raft can carry twenty people, so it will take us and a few provisions. We’ll sort it out when we have more of an idea what we’re going to do.”
“There seems to be a lot.”
“We carry a wide choice of food on these flights,” Liz said. “Most people who rent a plane this size are wealthy and expect their every whim to be catered to.” Liz didn’t sound as though she was impressed by their usual clients. “Wealthy assholes.”
“At least they never got you blown out of the sky.”
Liz’s face dropped. “I’d been trying not to think about that.” She wiped a hand over her forehead, then moved to the next cupboard. It was filled with alcohol and she stared at it for a minute, then opened a second bag and put in six bottles, hesitated then added another four. The bag clinked as she picked it up. “I suspect I’m going to need a drink when the shock wears off.”
“You’re doing great,” Mel said.
Liz paused for a moment and glanced at her. “So are you. Just who are you people? Drug dealers…? Terrorists?”
Mel pulled her badge out of her pocket and held it up for Liz to read. “FBI.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re the good guys?”
“Yeah, we’re the good guys.” Quinn’s voice came from the open doorway. “Are you two finished? We have to leave.”
Liz looked around the room. She grabbed a small pile of towels, and a handful of cutlery and shoved them on top of her bottles. “You get the first aid kit?”
“It’s already in the raft.”
“Good. There’s a crate of bottled water, down there.” She waved toward the corner of the small room. “Put that in as well.”
Quinn nodded and crossed the room, picked up the crate and headed out. Mel followed him with her heavy bag of food, Liz behind her, bottles clinking. Pete was already in the raft. It swayed as though nudged by invisible hands. The movement made Mel’s stomach churn. It was quite big and bright orange; if anyone was looking for them it would be easy to spot. But she supposed that under normal circumstances, that was the whole idea. Rescuers would be able to see them from a long way off. But no one was coming to rescue them. Though presumably someone must have noticed them going down. A plane dropping out of the sky was hard to miss. But even if the rescuers were well intentioned, it was better to avoid them at this point.
They handed the stuff down and Pete stored it beneath the benches around the edge of the raft, balancing the weight. He raised a brow at Liz’s bag of bottles but didn’t say a word, just tucked it away. Then held out his hand to Liz. She took it and jumped down, stepping lightly across the raft and seating herself on the bench at the far end.
“Right,” Quinn said. “Let�
��s get Kaitlin and Martin on board, and we’ll get out of here.”
Pete made to climb back onto the plane, but Mel stepped forward. “Stay there. I can do it.” At his raised brow, she gave a small smile. “I’m stronger than I look.”
She crouched down by Kaitlin’s head. Her eyes were still closed but her lashes fluttered open as though she sensed Mel’s presence. “Tell me it was all a bad dream,” she muttered.
“It was all a bad dream,” Mel said obediently. “Unfortunately, though, you’re still asleep, so it’s not over yet.”
“Bugger.”
She shuffled down, taking hold of the stretcher’s handles at either side of Kaitlin’s feet. Then she glanced across at Quinn who had the handles at Kaitlin’s head. Her gaze was drawn to his left hand and the trickle of blood emerging from the sleeve of his dark shirt.
“You’re still bleeding,” she said.
He glanced down. “It’s nothing, just a cut reopening. I’ll clean it up once we’re away from here.” He turned his attention to Kaitlin. “Just hold your breath and imagine something nice,” Quinn suggested.
“Smothering Kane in honey and tying him on an anthill?”
Quinn grinned. “That will do it.” He looked into Mel’s eyes and gave a quick nod. They both straightened, lifting the stretcher.
“Shit. I’m going to hurl,” Kaitlin said through gritted teeth.
“No, you’re not. Think of all that wasted scotch, and how bad you’ll smell. Besides, we’ll tell Kane what a little girl you were.”
She clamped her lips closed and perspiration beaded on her forehead. The journey only took a couple of seconds. Pete was waiting and took the handles from her, maneuvering the stretcher to the center of the raft. He and Quinn lowered it down.
“Okay?” Quinn asked.
“Do I look okay?” Kaitlin snarled.
Quinn grinned, then turned to Liz. “Give her some more scotch.”
“Are you sure? She’s had a lot. And with the painkillers…”
“Kaitlin has a very…impressive metabolism. It’s not going to hurt her, and it might stop her whining.”
“Okay, you know best.”
Carrying Martin was much easier. They didn’t have to worry about jolting him. Mel really hoped he was okay. But his color looked fine and his breathing was normal. He was put into the raft next to Kaitlin, who was already wrapped in a blanket and cuddling a bottle of amber liquid.
Quinn jumped in. She was the only one left now, but Mel couldn’t seem to move. Irrational terror held her locked in place. He turned, his gaze running over her, lingering on the tight grip of her hands on the edge of the open doorway. She half expected him to laugh at her fear, which she knew must show on her face. Behind him, the others watched. Quinn considered her a moment longer, then turned away. Was he going to leave her? But he just pulled something out from beneath one of the benches. “Put this on,” he said, handing it to her.
She had to let go with one hand to take it. It was a life jacket. She slipped it on over her head. It was deflated, but even so, she felt better with it on. She was quite aware her fear was irrational.
I can do this.
She looked into Quinn’s face, and he gave her a slow smile. “Let go, Melody. I’ll catch you.”
And she pried her frozen fingers free and took that huge step forward and into his arms.
Chapter Thirteen
Mel sat perched on the bench across from him, one hand clutching the rope that ran around the edge of the raft, the other gripping her leg as though she could stop the trembling. Every muscle in her body was locked rigid. Her gaze remained fixed on the center of the raft, never shifting toward the lake.
She clearly had a deep-seated fear of water.
Which was a pity, because right now, they were surrounded by it.
Under any other circumstances, Quinn would have taken the time to appreciate the beauty of the area. The clouds of earlier had vanished and the lake was a deep blue, reflecting the sky. Thick forest surrounded them, tall conifers reaching straight upward. Wading birds fed in the shallows, seemingly oblivious to the raft’s passing. And on one clear spot of bank, he caught sight of an alligator basking in the afternoon sun. Probably four feet in length; he decided not to point it out to the rest of them.
He breathed in deeply. He’d spent too much time in cities recently. He missed the fresh air. Maybe he would spend some time in Uganda, go off into the jungle, commune with nature…
He almost grinned. He was a city boy at heart. He’d grown up with a wealthy foster family in central London close to Hampstead Heath. He and Shanna had gone to the same private day school until they were eleven. Then, when their powers had started to show, they’d been homeschooled, discouraged from mixing with other kids. They’d been told they were special.
But while he’d liked the city, he’d loved his trips to the Highlands to stay with Jake and Martin. He’d visited twice a year from the age of eleven. Martin had tried to make sure Jake wasn’t totally isolated, that he had friends and some sort of normal life…
Quinn knew he was only putting off the moment when he had to think about what had happened.
Who had shot them down? Why? And what were the chances those same people were on their way to finish the job right now?
They had two pistols. And they were up against an enemy with the technology to shoot a plane out of the sky and to lock down all signals to what had to be a huge area. He pulled out his phone and checked, but there was still nothing.
Speed was impossible carrying two people on stretchers. Hopefully, Martin would come around, but there was no way Kaitlin was walking anytime soon. Which meant they were carrying her out.
Liz was doing an amazing job. He’d had a brief dip into her head. She was compartmentalizing. Pushing the bad things to the back of her mind, allowing her to focus on what had to be done now. Very impressive. She’d come up with the plan. She knew from past visits that there was a hiking trail around the lake, which came to the water at certain viewpoints. One option was to find the nearest of these on the east coast of the lake, land the raft, and walk from there, making their way to the park exit, and then to a small town approximately thirty miles away.
Hopefully, from there, they could contact Jake and get some support.
Alternately, they could take one of the narrow inlets leading off from the main body of water and get as far as they could on the raft. The area surrounding the lake was riddled with waterways, they just had to keep an eye out for one heading in the general direction they needed to go and hope that when they finally made land, the vegetation wouldn’t be too dense for them to carry a couple of stretchers.
So far, he hadn’t heard any sign of another human being.
Then, just at that moment, he caught the sound of a distant drone in the sky, off to the west. A helicopter. Looking for them? He had to presume so.
He searched the edges of the lake, spotted an area of dense vegetation where willowlike trees hung over the water to form a canopy. The helicopter was a long way off, but it was headed their way. He tapped Pete on the shoulder.
“We have company,” he murmured.
As well as Pete, both Liz and Mel looked his way.
“Helicopter.” He nodded in the general direction. Mel heard it first, and her mouth formed a grim line. “We can’t get off the water in time,” he continued. “I think we should head over there, take cover.”
Pete looked over, spotted the place immediately. “It’s big enough and thick enough. Let’s do it.”
Quinn moved to sit beside him on the bench and took up the second paddle. The first stroke tore open the wound on his arm, but he ignored the sharp flash of pain and pulled hard. The helicopter was getting closer, low in the sky by the sound of it. It seemed to take them an age, but finally they hit the bank. Mel and Liz moved to the side and pulled them along, grabbing the vegetation and drawing them closer to shore. By the time they nudged under the thick, overhanging canopy, the heli
copter was a loud buzz in his ears.
Would it be enough?
It had better be. Because whoever was after them seemed to have no intention of taking them alive. They were out for total destruction.
Mel grasped at an overhanging branch and pulled them even closer to the bank. She seemed to have relaxed a little now she had something to do. Some people collapsed at the sign of danger—clearly Mel thrived on it. She’d been cool with the plane crash. Only the water had messed with her head.
As though she sensed him watching her, she glanced his way and flashed him a smile. Maybe she just liked being close to land.
The helicopter was loud now, almost overhead. He peered through the dense vegetation but could see little. That was probably a good thing—if he couldn’t see out, hopefully they couldn’t be seen. He reached out with his mind and caught a brief flicker of the people in the helicopter. There were four of them, and right now, he was pretty sure they were unaware of the boat or its occupants.
The helicopter crisscrossed the area above them. They all sat perfectly still, almost not breathing. The afternoon was warm, and midges swarmed over the surface of the water. The air was heavy with the mixed scent of growing and decaying things. Life and death. Maybe an hour passed. Their hunters were being methodical. But Quinn picked up no spikes of brain activity, nothing to suggest they’d been seen.
Finally, the helicopter moved away, heading across the water to where the plane lay half submerged. It occurred to him that maybe they should have blown the thing up, or at least closed the door. Instead they’d left it wide open, an obvious clue that at least some of them had survived the crash. Jesus, he wasn’t thinking straight.
“I didn’t think of it, either,” Kaitlin said from the bottom of the raft. Her eyes held a glazed look. They needed to get her to a doctor and get the leg set properly.
“You were drunk,” he answered.