“We need to hurry,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because dessert is in the cabin after dinner.”
She smiled, blushing slightly at the implication.
“And if I want to cuddle instead?”
“I’m fine with that, too,” he said. He pulled her close and hugged her against his side as they walked. “I mean it when I say that I’m here, and I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll never give up on you, Maci.”
She couldn’t help but think that he was being sincere.
*
The room was dark, and Chad had dozed off when he finally heard movement in the hallway. He was back by the bucket again, out of sight of the small window cut into the door. He heard someone knock on the window, then comment to another person about the missing sandwich.
Chad lay against the wall, one hand in his pocket holding the knife. He bent double just as they opened the door, holding his knees to his chest and forcing himself to convulse from time to time, as if he was having intermittent seizure. He was already sweating from wearing the hoodie in the warm room, his face clammy where he had wiped off the recent sweat to give himself that sickly, pallid look.
“Help,” he croaked dramatically as the two men in scrubs came to where he was. They already had a stretcher, and it looked like they were coming to remove a body. Chad let his mouth drop open, ignoring the drool as they placed the stretcher beside him and rolled him on it in a ball.
“How long ago did you eat?” one man asked.
“Thirty minutes ago. Maybe an hour. I don’t know. What’s wrong with me; am I dying?”
“No, you’ll be alright,” the other man said, but Chad knew that they were lying.
Had he actually eaten the sandwich and its poison condiment, he would be on his last breath minutes from now. But because he had noticed that Archer was another clone, and that the sandwich was much nicer than something they would give to a prisoner unless they had a good reason, he was going to live. Hopefully, it would lead to him escaping, but he wouldn’t know until the opportunity presented itself.
They balanced him on the stretcher on his side, giving him the chance to watch the rooms go by without them being able to see his face. He kept as much of his face hidden as possible, counting out the rooms and the people milling about the hallway as they took him through the long, dimly lit hallway and down another longer corridor before they went through a locked door and into a room that was just a hair above freezing.
The stretcher was set down, the two men in scrubs leaving him there without any explanation.
“Help,” he called out to one of them, keeping his voice weak.
“What?” one man asked tersely.
“Am I dying?” he asked the man.
“Yes. You’re dying.”
“I don’t want to die.”
“It’s too late for that. You have nothing of value to offer, and we don’t need to babysit anymore DC players. Everyone who isn’t essential is being terminated. You didn’t make the list of important names, so you’re dead. Sorry, buddy.”
Without another word, the two men left the room, the door clicking shut behind them and locking automatically.
Chad waited until the sound of their voices died down, then he looked around the room, noting that the only camera appeared to be off.
Carefully, he rolled off the gurney and put his feet on the floor. He moved about the room, already feeling better than he had a few hours before when the Archer clone had woken him up to question him. He felt more stable on his feet, and his head didn’t feel so cloudy.
The room appeared to be a combination sick bay and mortuary, though Chad doubted there was much healing done in this place. He was certain that this was where he had been brought to die, and he was sure that he wasn’t the first to suffer that fate.
He went through the drawers at a desk that featured a computer that was shut down and of almost no use to him. He didn’t have passcodes and he didn’t have time to figure them out. He needed something quick, and he needed a plan.
He saw the rope just then, his eyes focusing on it, but his brain certain that he was imagining things. Why would there be rope in the middle of a sick bay/mortuary? Upon closer inspection, it looked like the thick, cotton twine often wrapped around large packages that were shaped awkwardly and not easily wrapped. It was softer than rope, but it would still work.
He grabbed the rope out of the trashcan, stuffing it in his pocket and looking around for anything else he could use.
There was nothing.
The door clicked, and he heard a man talking to someone in the hall.
“I just have to bag up this DOA, and I’ll swing by your office and let you know I’m ready,” the man said, laughing as if they were planning a night out between friends.
Chad ducked around the corner, waiting for the man to come into the room. The man’s shoes clicked on the hard tile as he walked, muttering to himself about last minute DOAs and his job being in the crapper.
The man walked right past the empty gurney that Chad had been on, going to the bank of four morgue refrigerators and pulling open the first door.
He was standing just a few feet from Chad with his back to him, looking at the first refrigerator, shaking his head and opening the next.
Grabbing the butter knife that was in his pocket, Chad stepped forward and covered the man’s mouth with one hand, pressing the cold steel of the knife to his neck with the other hand.
“Don’t say a word, and don’t try anything,” Chad said.
The man nodded his understanding.
“I need to get out of here, and I need to leave now. Does that door go to the outside?” he asked, indicating a door on the outer wall.
The man nodded.
“Do you have a key for that door?”
The man nodded again, his hand going to his name badge.
“Don’t move, I said,” Chad said, pressing the knife harder against the man’s throat.
The man was trembling, so scared that he was sobbing quietly into Chad’s hand. But Chad had no pity for the man who had chosen his line of work and to work for the bad guys. No one was responsible for that choice, and Chad refused to pity the man.
“Put your hands behind your back. If you want to live, you won’t yell and you won’t try to get away. Do you understand?”
The man nodded.
“I have no problem slicing your head right off, got it?”
The smell of urine reached his nose just as he heard the telltale splash of liquid on the floor. He sighed inwardly. The man he held was a low-level player and would probably pass out before he yelled out for help, he was so scared.
Chad shook his head, stepping out of reach of the small puddle beneath the man and fishing the rope out of his pocket with one hand, the other hand still holding the knife to the man’s throat.
“Mouth shut, don’t talk.”
The man nodded, squeezing his eyes shut.
Chad made quick work of tying the man’s hands behind his back, even though one of his hands was busy holding the knife. The man held his wrists together behind his back, making it easier for Chad, too afraid to fight back.
Once he was secure, Chad dragged him toward the single stall bathroom. He pushed the man inside, taking his badge off and shoving the man onto the floor between the wall and the toilet, wedging him in so that he couldn’t get out on his own.
“Don’t move, and don’t cry out,” he said to the man, who nodded again, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Someone will come looking for you, and I’ll be long gone. I don’t want any trouble; I just don’t want to die.”
“I understand,” the man said, choking on a weak sob.
“Don’t test me. I will kill you.”
The man nodded again, and Chad slipped out of the room, swiping the man’s name badge and opening the outer door.
Chad shoved the knife back in his pocket, not sure if he would find himself needing a weapon, even one that was
only meant to slice through butter.
He ran out into the dark night, heading straight for a stand of trees that were circling the property and hoping that there was no fence line hidden between them. When he reached the trees, he almost cried out in relief, running in between two trees and out onto a city street.
I’m still in America, he thought triumphantly, the thought that they could be hidden somewhere in the Amazon still in the back of his head. He started running, slowly at first, then picking up the pace. He looked like just another jogger in his hoodie, but he stayed close to the shadows, running through the quiet neighborhood as quickly as he could, hoping that he would hit something familiar soon. Or at least something more populated. The more people that were around, the better. That meant that there was less chance of the people he encountered being in on the conspiracy and reporting him for capture again. He knew that this time, they wouldn’t be so easily fooled.
An alarm sounded in the distance behind him, nearly two miles back now that he had sprinted for at least ten minutes. He could see light in the distance that signaled a large city, the thin leaves and branches obscuring the buildings just enough so that he couldn’t make out where he was.
When he rounded the corner, he stopped, staring at the sight with his mouth agape. It was the Washington monument in the distance. He was still in DC. What was crazier was that he was less than three miles from his own house in the city. He could be there in less than twenty minutes on foot.
He shook his head. There was no way that he could go to his house. Surely his captors knew enough about him to know where he lived, and that would be the first place that they looked. No, he had to run the opposite way, finding somewhere to lay low that they would never suspect.
He went straight, then turned left, going away from the facility he had been held captive in and away from his home. He felt a buzzing in the small of his back, and he knew that his text had finally gone through.
But what about Logan? Was he still in the deep woods with Maci? Would he get the message in time?
Don’t think about those things, he admonished himself, knowing that it was a dangerous road to think like that. He had to concentrate on now, and not hope that Logan would miraculously get his text in time to come out of nowhere and save him. He had to find somewhere to hide, and he needed to find it fast.
He went through a park, the sidewalks almost deserted at this late hour, though a few hardcore runners were jogging the winding trail through the park. Chad fell instep behind a few, blending in with the group as he looked around for somewhere to hide.
When he saw it, he almost cried out in relief.
There, tucked between businesses and the park, was a shelter that was decked out to look like a hotel. The locals knew better, and the sign above the door always claimed that there were no rooms, but the local homeless population knew that was just a ruse.
He made a beeline for the shelter, going through the door and waiting to be buzzed through the lobby.
“Name,” the man at the desk asked without looking up at the man who breezed in, bringing the chilly night air with him.
“Nathan James,” he said.
“ID?”
“I don’t got none,” he said, purposely messing up the phrasing so that he sounded uneducated. “I don’t got money or food, and it’s cold out there.”
“We know. You’ll be in room six. No fighting, no weapons. You’re in bed D. It’s a bottom bunk. Have a good night.”
The man put a pillow and a thin blanket on the counter, still never looking up at Chad to meet his eyes. It was just as well. It was better for the man if there wasn’t a chance of recognizing Chad. If the clone Archer ever thought to look for him here, he would come up empty.
“Thanks,” Chad said, walking away, muttering to himself as transients often did.
The man didn’t respond, just went back to the loud videos streaming on his phone, laughing at a video of some fool trying a stunt that didn’t work out the way that he’d planned.
Chad found the room quickly, keeping his head down when he walked into the room and found his bunk. He curled onto the bed, too wired to sleep but keeping his eyes closed so that no one would talk to him. He needed a plan, and he needed a more permanent place to hide. But more than anything, he needed Logan to get his message.
Careful not to draw attention to himself, he rolled out of bed to use the bathroom, taking the blanket and pillow with him so that no one took it. He didn’t care, but most homeless people guarded their stuff with their lives, and leaving the blanket and pillow behind would be suspicious to a group of people whose survival relied on their constant suspicions.
He went into the bathroom, closing and latching the door behind himself before he fished his phone out.
There was no response from Logan and no indication that he had read the message. Chad felt deflated, but the message had only just been sent, and Logan was probably sleeping now that it was almost ten. He knew the wolves lived with the sun, and Logan had struggled to adjust to the human practice of staying awake much past eight at night.
He took a deep breath, sending another message, this time with more details, then deleting it as soon as it was sent. He deleted the other message as well. Now that they were delivered, deleting on his end wouldn’t affect anything.
He hid the phone in the liner of his jacket again, washing his hands and going back into the room. He crawled into his bed and laid down. Tomorrow was a new day, and he would need a new plan. Right at ten in the morning, they would feed the men in the shelter breakfast and set them out into the world. Chad needed to have an idea of what his next move was, and he had ten hours to get it together. He couldn’t risk capture again, even though he had texted the location of the place to Logan. If he got caught again, he wouldn’t live long enough for Logan to save him. He was sure of that.
CHAPTER 12
Maci tossed in bed, trying to quiet her thoughts as Logan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. His naked skin was warm against hers, but even that wasn’t bringing her the comfort she needed to let go of her thoughts and fall to sleep.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly in the darkness.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You would think I’d be exhausted after today and tonight, but I just can’t sleep.”
“Is something bothering you?” he asked, his voice calm even though Maci could feel how tense he was.
“It’s not about you or this Fated Mate thing,” she said. “I’ve accepted that I can’t deal with that right now. It’s Chad.”
“What about Chad?”
“Nothing specific, but I just don’t like being out of touch for so long. I know it’s only been two days, but I feel like-” she breathed out angrily, trying to get her thoughts in order. “I don’t know. I just feel like we should go now and make sure that there’s no message.”
“It’s late,” he said.
“I know. And I know it’s silly. But I just feel like we shouldn’t wait until tomorrow. I think tomorrow might be too late.”
“Alright,” he said. “Then let’s go.”
“Now?”
“Why not? You can ride and hold the phone and watch for a signal. As soon as you see one bar, any texts that are pending will go through, and we can see if anything has happened since we left.”
She nodded in the darkness.
“I feel better about that. If there’s nothing, then I’ll be able to sleep.”
“Get dressed,” he said, going to his own backpack and pulling out his phone. “Here’s the phone. It’s already unlocked; you just swipe the screen. If there’s a message of any kind, it will vibrate in your pocket.”
“Got it,” she said, pulling on her pants and her shirt, and putting her shoes on.
“You’re going to need a jacket,” he said, opening his closet and pulling out a black fleece pull over and a black knit hat.
“Thank you,” she said, putting both on and zipping the cellphone
into the little zippered pocket on the front of the jacket.
He grabbed her hand and started to lead her outside.
“Aren’t you going to get dressed?” she asked.
“Why? So I can just rip through my clothes when I shift outside?”
“Oh. Won’t someone see you?”
He shrugged.
“We don’t see nudity the way humans do. It doesn’t bother anyone.”
“I guess it wouldn’t, since you all are naked after you shift back.”
“Exactly. This is just who we are.”
“I guess it will just take some getting used to,” she said. “At least the view is nice.”
“Come on.”
He tugged on her hand, leading her outside into the chilly night. She shivered as he stepped away from her, standing still in the dark night. She couldn’t see much more than his silhouette, but she kept her eyes on him anyway, watching his shadow bend and morph until a giant wolf stood where Logan had been just moments before.
He crouched down, and she slid onto his back, settling into the natural dip behind his shoulders and putting her hands near his scruff in case she needed to hold on.
Logan stood slowly, taking a few tentative steps to give her time to adjust to his gait before he picked up speed.
By the time they left the village, he was at a full run. Maci sat quietly astride him, legs dangling at his sides, her body falling into rhythm with his as he picked up speed.
She stayed low, a little afraid that she might get hit by a low-hanging branch. The wind rushed around her, swirling the brown hair that peeked out from beneath the hat around her head and off her neck. The chilly air kissed the bare skin of her neck, sending a wave of shivers down her body. She hovered closer to Logan’s back, the heat from his body radiating up and surrounding her in the brisk cold of late winter.
Her eyes teared up as the wind grew fierce and Logan picked up speed, going impossibly fast in the pitch-black night.
He was running for quite some time when he slowed, turning to look over his shoulder at Maci. She pulled out the phone, hitting the button to light up the face of it and shaking her head.
The Wolf In The White House Page 13