by Nina Croft
He shifted to the end of the raft and parted the vegetation. They’d come about a mile and he couldn’t make out the plane from here.
As he watched, a streak of light shot through the sky.
Boom.
The roar of a huge explosion filled his head.
“What the hell?” Pete said.
“They’ve blown up the plane.”
“Jesus, someone really doesn’t like you guys.”
“Yeah, sorry you got mixed up in this.”
He waited, listening, expecting the helicopter to come back their way again. If it did, then they were all getting off fast. If they were seen, they wouldn’t stand a chance, but at least they could hide better on land than on this bright orange target.
But the sound grew fainter. Maybe their pursuers presumed that they’d gotten off the plane and headed inland. From this distance, he could get no information from them. And Kaitlin was only semiconscious and no help.
Time to move.
They kept close to the bank of the lake, just in case they needed to make a fast getaway. Well, as fast as they could with two people on stretchers. He wished Rose was here. They could use her particular talents right now. He forced himself to relax. They would get out of this. Staying close to the edge slowed them down, though. They had to maneuver around the trunks of dead trees, and they were pushing through thick beds of lilies.
Mel slid along the bench until she sat beside him. “You’re bleeding again,” she said. “You want me to take the paddle for a while?”
He glanced down at his hand on the paddle. Fresh blood stained the back. But he couldn’t even feel the cut. “I’m fine. You keep an eye out for where we can get off the lake.”
She nodded, but stayed where she was, scanning the banks. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it.”
He supposed it was, but he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.
Five minutes later, she touched him lightly on the arm. “What about there?” she said, pointing at a spot about a hundred feet away. A wide inlet led away from the main body of water.
“What do you think?” He directed the question at Liz, since she was the only one who had been here before.
“I think we should take it. They do kayaking and canoeing on these waters. There might be somewhere to dock the raft and a trail out of here.”
That might make it easier to find them. Then again, it would be impossible to carry stretchers through the dense forest. “Okay.”
They directed the raft up the inlet. The water was clearer here, and they moved easily. Half an hour later, they pulled up on a sandy manmade beach. Behind them, he could see smoke rising into the sky. The plane. Quinn dropped his paddle and jumped over the side and into the shallow water, Pete beside him, then Mel and Liz. Together they dragged the raft to the shore, then set about unloading it, quickly and efficiently.
Two stretchers, three bags, a crate of water, and the medical kit.
“I feel like luggage,” Kaitlin muttered as they set her down on the sand.
“You are luggage,” Quinn replied, emptying the bag of blankets onto the beach. “Lift up your head.” When she did, he placed a folded blanket underneath it, then added two more on top of her. He pulled bottles of water from the crate and tucked them under the blanket next to her.
“I’m going to bake.”
“You have to carry your share.”
“That’s what I like. A bit of sympathy.”
He paused and stared down at her, peering into her mind. A little fuzzy. Not surprising, considering the scotch she had consumed, but otherwise she was fine. “You don’t need sympathy.”
He tossed the last two blankets to Pete, who laid them across Martin’s unconscious form. Quinn was beginning to worry about him. He should have regained consciousness by now. But at least he wouldn’t notice the bags on top of him. There was no time to sort through the stuff, and he didn’t want to leave anything behind.
“Can you hold onto the medical kit?” he asked Kaitlin, and she nodded, tucking her half-empty bottle of scotch under her blankets. He placed the kit on her chest and she wrapped her arm around it.
The other two bags went on Martin’s stretcher, held in place by a blanket. There was just the raft to go.
He searched the area for the best hiding place. He’d thought about sinking it, but the water wasn’t deep, and it would show. Instead, they pierced the side, so it deflated rapidly, then dragged it like a great orange sea creature into the dense vegetation, hiding it as best they could. That would have to do.
A narrow trail led away from the beach. No doubt it would cross a road at some point. In the distance, he could hear the drone of the helicopter, still searching for them. They needed to get a safe distance from the water, and under the cover of the forest, where the chopper wouldn’t spot them.
The sun would go down soon. They had maybe a couple of hours of daylight left. Liz had said that it was at least twenty miles to the town from here. Plus, they were all tired and his arm was starting to ache.
“Let’s get a mile or so inland and then find a place to stop for the night,” he said.
Mel nodded.
“What about one of us heading out and getting help?” Pete asked. “I can make it to town in a few hours, even quicker if I can flag down a vehicle.”
Quinn considered it, but quickly dismissed the idea. Chances were, Pete would be picked up by the wrong people. They could be watching all the exits to the park. He could go himself—he’d be able to pick up if a passing car was friend or foe—but he didn’t want to leave Kaitlin or Mel. Besides, with only three people, they wouldn’t be able to carry the stretchers between them.
“No, I think it’s safer to stay together. It will be getting dark soon. Our best bet is to lay low. Plus, it will give Martin time to recover. This will be much easier if he can move under his own steam.” He had a quick look in Pete’s mind; the man wanted out of there, he didn’t trust them, and was considering taking Liz and making off. Would Quinn stop them if they tried? Probably. He was pretty sure whoever was after them would kill them on sight. But in the end, he didn’t have to make the decision. Pete realized they wouldn’t be able to cope with the injured without them, and at heart, he was a good man. An ex-Marine. Which might come in handy if it came to a fight.
Quinn and Mel took Kaitlin’s stretcher, Liz and Pete took Martin’s. Mel picked up the end at Kaitlin’s feet with ease. She was strong for a woman. He liked that.
“Aw, you’re going all mushy,” Kaitlin said. Then she looked at Mel. “He thinks you’re strong. That’s high praise from Quinn. Much better than thinking you’re pretty. Except he thinks you’re pretty, as well.”
“Shut up, brat. And get out of my head.”
“Okay. It’s pretty grotty in there anyway.” Kaitlin closed her eyes and locked her jaw.
He glanced up and straight into Mel’s eyes. “Let’s go.”
They moved slowly. Behind them, Liz was struggling. She didn’t say anything, but she was worried how long she could keep this up. When he sensed she was near her limit, he called a halt.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.
Her face gleamed with sweat, and she was breathing hard, but she gave a quick nod. “I’m not sure for how long, but I can go a bit farther.”
Quinn crouched down beside Kaitlin’s stretcher and pulled out a bottle of water, handed it to Liz, then gave another to Mel. They both drank, then passed the bottles to him and Pete.
The track was narrow but easy to negotiate. After another thirty minutes, Quinn started to look for somewhere to get off the path and into the cover of the forest. As they’d moved away from the water, the trees had changed from deciduous to conifers, which would form a thick canopy over their heads, hiding them from anything above. The undergrowth was thinner as well, which would make moving much easier. He found a break in the trees and followed it. Now they were weaving between the broad trunks, and the air was cooler. Mel was moving easily, her b
reathing even. But behind him, Liz stumbled. He could sense her reaching the end of her strength.
He halted and put down the stretcher. “We’ll take a ten-minute rest and then it’ll be just half an hour more, max,” he promised. Liz lowered Martin to the ground and collapsed beside the stretcher. “I’ll go look ahead.”
He strode quickly through the trees. Above the canopy, he caught glimpses of the sky, shading to purple. The light was changing as the sun lowered. He found a good place to stop within five minutes—a small clearing surrounded by huge trees which would provide adequate cover. The land around was mostly flat, but a small rocky rise on one side would provide some protection and meant they would only have to keep watch in the direction they had come. This was probably as good as they would get. There was no point in pushing farther.
He went back to get the others and within fifteen minutes they were there. They lay the stretchers close against the rocks, and he helped Kaitlin into a sitting position, putting a blanket at her back so she was upright. “How do you feel?”
“Crappy. But I’ll live.”
“Martin’s awake,” Mel said from behind him and he straightened. Martin’s eyes were open, and focused. Quinn blew out his breath.
Thank Christ.
“What happened?” Martin asked.
“The plane crashed, and you slept through it,” Kaitlin said. “Which, let me tell you, was a very good idea. I wish I’d thought of it.”
Martin pushed himself up, so he was sitting, his back against the rock, beside Kaitlin. “Is everyone all right?”
“The pilot didn’t make it,” Quinn said. “Kaitlin has a broken leg and is turning into a lush, but otherwise, we’re all good.”
Martin glanced to where Liz and Pete slumped on the ground, passing a bottle of water between them. “I’m sorry about your colleague,” he said. Then he turned his attention to Quinn. “Do we know what’s happening?”
“Someone shot us down with a surface to air missile, and right now, they’re searching for any survivors,” Quinn said as Martin ran a hand through his hair, no doubt feeling for lumps. “Do you feel okay?”
Martin nodded, then winced. “Not too bad.”
Quinn studied him closely, but his pupils looked fine and there were no obvious signs of concussion. “I’ll get you some painkillers.” The medical kit was beside Kaitlin. He dug out a bottle, shook two tablets out, and handed them to Martin with a bottle of water. “Bet you’re glad we broke you out of prison,” he said.
Martin swallowed the pills, his expression serious. “I’d rather die out here than stay in prison a day longer.”
“That’s the attitude,” Kaitlin said with a grin. “Do I get some of those?” She nodded to the pills and Quinn handed her the bottle.
He looked around. They were as safe as they were going to be tonight. There was no sound of the helicopter, and if he closed his eyes and reached out, he found no minds searching for them. Hopefully, they’d gone in the other direction. He blew out his breath, then moved to the other side of Kaitlin and sank down, leaning his back against the rock and forcing the tension from his limbs.
He’d been in danger many times, but he reckoned this was the closest he’d come to death.
“Here,” Kaitlin said from beside him. “You look like you need this almost more than me.”
He opened his eyes and took the bottle of scotch from her, unscrewed the top, and took a long pull. Just the one. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Literally.
Chapter Fourteen
Mel walked around the perimeter of their little clearing. It was about twenty feet by twenty feet, surrounded by tall trees which formed a canopy over their heads, hopefully, hiding them from above.
She was relaxing a little, the tension seeping from her limbs as soon as they’d left the water.
She really didn’t like water.
She was used to danger; she put her life at risk every time she made a jump in time. There were so many things that could go wrong.
She’d had a couple of near misses in the past. You got a brief glimpse of where and when you were going, and a fraction of a second to back out if it wasn’t going to work. The time got shorter as the distance got further. So far, her reflexes had been fast enough, and she’d aborted the jumps before they completed—encasing her in solid rock that wasn’t supposed to be there, in one case. In the middle of a burning building in the other.
She did like the forest, though. She wasn’t used to nature. She’d spent most of her childhood after the age of five living on various space stations and ships with her adoptive father. Now, if she listened, the forest around her came to life, with things rustling in the undergrowth, birds twittering in the canopy above them. And the air was thick with scents—the sharp pungent odor of the pine trees, something earthy. Everyone else had collapsed, but she felt energized, as though her skin was too tight. She didn’t think she could sit still right now.
Quinn was seated on the ground, next to Kaitlin. His eyes were closed, his mouth tight, and a bottle of amber liquid hung from his hand. His hair was ruffled, and his cheeks shadowed. As she watched, he reached up and tentatively touched his arm, a wince twisting his face. He’d been injured in the crash. It was time to see how badly, whether he liked it or not.
She strode toward him, picking up the first aid kit on the way. As she came to a halt, he opened his eyes, and a smile curved his lips. “Hey,” he murmured.
“Hey,” she said back. Intelligent conversation. “We need to look at your arm.”
She’d half expected him to do the tough guy thing and say he didn’t need looking at, but he just nodded. He blew out his breath and screwed the top on his bottle, then put it down beside him. Leaning forward, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and dragged it over his head, wadding it in his hands.
Wow.
Right then she was glad, like really glad, that he couldn’t read her mind. Because he was quite the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Wide shoulders, golden skin taut over the swell of muscle. A smattering of black, silky hair.
“Close your mouth, Mel.” The voice came from the other side of Quinn. Kaitlin. Mel had completely forgotten she had an audience. Kaitlin was grinning. Mel glanced away quickly, ignoring the comment, though she did close her mouth. She looked back at Quinn, concentrating on the wound; his arm was a bloody mess. The angry-looking cut was still seeping blood.
“Ouch,” she murmured.
“You’re supposed to say something like—you’re so brave, Quinn.” Kaitlin again.
Quinn’s lips twitched. “Shut up, brat.”
Mel sank to her knees beside him and opened the first aid kit, which looked like it could cover just about any situation. Mel had medical training as part of her job, but much of the stuff appeared strange, and she was guessing medicine had changed a lot in a few thousand years. She studied the cut for a minute. It needed cleaning, and then it needed closing. What she wouldn’t have given for some spray-on skin. And wasn’t there a chance of infection? Did she need to give him something? Maybe she should pass the job onto Liz or Pete.
She must have looked a little lost because Quinn spoke up. “Just clean it, then we can decide if it needs stitches.
“Stitches?” Ugh. Really? They were that primitive?
“Yeah. You never sewn anything?”
“Never.”
“Well, there’s a first time. Luckily, we don’t get infections,” Quinn said. “Some sort of immunity. We all have it.”
“That’s good.”
She poured cleanser onto a pad and pressed it to his arm, then wiped it away, repeating the process a few times.
“I won’t break,” he murmured.
She pressed harder, scrubbing away the dried blood, revealing a cut maybe four inches long, through the muscle of his upper arm. It was quite deep and done by something relatively blunt, going by the rough edges. It must hurt.
“You’re so brave,” she whispered, and he grinned, then twisted around
and peered at the wound, a frown forming between his eyes.
“It probably does need stitching, but it’s going to be hard with those edges. I think we should just put a tight bandage on it for now, hold it together. Hopefully we’ll be out of here tomorrow and I can get it looked at properly.”
He was probably right. It wasn’t life threatening, and no doubt appeared worse than it was. She found a wide bandage and wound it tightly around his arm, drawing the edges together as best she could. She fastened it off, and he flexed the arm. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” Her stomach rumbled. Loudly.
“Why don’t you go investigate that bag of food?” he said. “Sort us out something to eat before it gets dark.”
She rose to her feet and found the bag beside Martin’s stretcher. His eyes were closed again, but this looked like normal sleep. Likely, he was exhausted. He’d appeared tired when she’d interviewed him in the prison, and he’d hardly had a relaxing time since. She carried the heavy bag back and found that Pete and Liz had joined them, forming a little circle. Liz shuffled to the side to allow her to sit next to Quinn. He’d put his bloody T-shirt back on—it wasn’t an improvement. Mel sank to the ground and opened the bag, tipping the contents on the ground.
“I’ll have chocolate,” Kaitlin said. Mel tossed her a bar, and she caught it easily. Everyone else selected what they wanted. Mel got a bag of potato chips, some cheese wrapped in plastic, and a packet of biscuits. She added an apple to her pile. She glanced up to find Quinn watching her, his lips curved in a small smile. “I’m hungry,” she said.
They all ate in silence for a few minutes. The food in this time was so different. The space station rations she’d grown up on had been nutritious but hardly tasty. But then her adoptive father came from a species that didn’t have taste buds. Now hers were going into overload.
“Are we in danger?” Liz asked. “I mean, they blew up the plane. Are they going to come after us?”
“Probably,” Quinn replied. “But the sun is going down, and they won’t find us in the dark. I think we’re safe for the night.”
“And in the morning?”