The Snow Swept Trilogy

by Derrick Hibbard

  “How about an omelet?” Ryan smiled. “All hungry girls like omelets.”

  Mae looked around nervously, eyeing the main swinging doors that led to the dining area off the main lobby.

  “What if he comes in here?”

  “We offer him some food. Guy looked like he could use a break.”

  Mae laughed and opened another refrigerator. She rifled through some of the drawers and then produced a bundle of fresh chives.

  “Okay then, but let’s hurry. And we have to add chives.”

  “Sure thing, missy pie.”

  She found a knife and a cutting board and they went to work making their snack. She cut the chives while he whisked the eggs. He added a dash of creamer, claiming that it made the omelet so fluffy it was like eating a cloud. After a while, Mae sat on a stool near the counter and watched him work, the sounds of the kitchen oddly comforting and intimate. It reminded her of cooking with her mom and dad, before everything happened.

  Before, they would spend their Sunday afternoons in the kitchen, experimenting with recipes and ingredients. Her dad liked desserts best, the fancier the better. His favorite was a chocolate soufflé, and it never really turned out so well, or so he claimed. But he kept right on trying. Her mom would find recipes in an old cookbook she'd found at a garage sale in Vermont, and they tried almost every dish in that book, rating the meals on a scale of one to ten and scribbling the score next to the name of the dish.

  Always, there was laughing and stories as they cooked. Sometimes there were arguments that were followed by periods of tense silence, but the food usually calmed everyone down and made the house happy.

  Being here with Ryan, watching him whisk the eggs, grind the salt and pepper, melt the butter over the gas stove until it sizzled, and whisk one last time before pouring the mixture into the hot pan, brought back those feelings she'd had. It was the first time she'd ever been in a kitchen with a guy, and she liked it.

  Paper and ink, she thought, but pushed it away. She didn't need that, not now, because this was calm and comforting. This was home, and the more time she spent with Ryan, the more he felt like home.

  “I have to leave for a few days,” he said suddenly, breaking the spell.

  “Oh? Getting sick of me?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, and he laughed.

  “You know it.” Ryan sprinkled chopped chives and thinly sliced gouda cheese onto the cooking omelet and folded it in half. “No, I have to leave for work. Nothing big, I'll just be gone for a few days.”

  Mae watched how easily the lie slipped from his mouth. She wasn't sure what was true and what wasn’t, or if the whole thing was a lie, but there was something he wasn't saying. The way he wouldn't look at her when he spoke … she felt that lump in her stomach again.

  “Okay, so ...” She didn't know what to say. She didn’t want to ask a question because she didn't want to hear him lie again. The growing pain inside her was almost too much for that. She wanted to go back thirty seconds and go down a different road where he didn't say anything about leaving, didn't try and hide something from her.

  But that isn't fair. How much am I hiding?

  She wondered if he knew that she was also holding things back, keeping secrets close. Maybe that's why he wasn't telling her the truth.

  “Of course you can stay here,” he muttered. “For as long as you want, it's really no problem. And I'll be back, just a few days away and I'll be back.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay.” She didn't want to hear anymore because it only reminded her of just how temporary this whole situation was. He smiled at her gratefully, and she smiled back, but she knew it couldn't be forever. She had too many secrets. How long could she play this game without realizing her life and his were at stake?

  “Okay, then. I think the omelet is done.” He used the spatula to slice it in half, cheese and chives oozing gloriously. He slid the omelet onto a plate and passed it to her across the countertop. Their fingers touched when she took it, and she tried so hard to recapture the magic and brief moment of peace she'd felt just a few minutes before.

  But that feeling was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Heather was getting close. She could feel it.

  A few days had passed since her last communication with the Duke, and Heather missed talking to him, and it was several days that she’d spent looking over her shoulder and checking the shadows.

  This game she was playing with the Duke and the shadowy organization known only as Il Contionum scared her, if she was being honest. She’d plugged the names into her computer bot, looking for any connection between this ‘Harrison’ and ‘Morales.’ She’d gotten many hits, but after reviewing the data for each connection, they seemed like arbitrary and benign coincidences. Never before had she been faced with any organization that had been able to cover its tracks as well as Il Contionum, if it even existed.

  That was part of the reason she was afraid. They knew that this organization must exist, but could find no trace of it. It was like those shadows of movement you saw in your peripheral vision, but when you actually focused on it, there was nothing there. And without knowing who or where the group was, there was no way to know if they were tracking her. Of course, the Duke had assured her that no one was tracking her, but how could he know for sure if they couldn’t even find any trace of the organization who might be tracking them?

  But she had to trust the Duke. He was good at playing these types of games, skirting the shadows of powerful players, waiting for the right moment to pounce and bring the power to its knees. She admired him for his patience and willingness to put his own neck on the line for what he saw as a noble cause. And to the Duke, uncovering a clandestine operation with military support and no hesitation to attack Americans on American soil, was about as much a noble cause as he could want.

  But then again, all it would take is to step on one land mine, set off one alarm, and they would be exposed to a powerful enemy. And when you're breaking through firewalls and encrypted VPNs, there were a whole lot of land mines to skirt around.

  She sipped from her cup of tea, a bright and wintery blend of herbs, dried fruit and white tea leaves—her fifth cup that day—and turned her attention to her other game. Running a game was the last thing she wanted to do. In fact, most of her motivation to do anything had drained since that night in Chicago.

  She opened an app on her computer and a large map appeared. Already several differently colored dots had appeared in different areas of the map.

  She glanced at her other screen and studied the police scanners and traffic cameras in the area. She moused over the central hub for the cameras, and began running a program of her own making. The cameras on the DOT screens would loop continuously during the game, but her cameras would record the actual traffic. If an accident not related to the games was recorded, she would alert the authorities and even edit the footage into the archive, but otherwise, the city was theirs for the next few minutes. Of course, the games never lasted long.

  The fifth colored dot appeared on the map, and she saw that they were ready. She opened up the microphone application and double checked her connection with each of the vehicles' onboard computers. The connections were good.

  “Welcome to Lit Dragons,” she said.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Welcome to Lit Dragons,” the woman's voice said, but this time, Ryan didn't find her voice to be quite so attractive. Sure, her voice was still as smooth and sensual as ever, and usually when Ryan heard those first few words, signifying the beginning of the games, he imagined that she looked as sultry as she sounded. As always, he wore a tuxedo that was perfectly tailored to fit his body, and he could just picture the girl who ran the games in a white satin gown, likewise tailored to hug her curves and accentuate her flowing dark hair. Of course, he'd never seen or spoken to her, only heard her speak through the speakers of the cars he drove. Always, he imagined her to have dark hair, because
in his mind that was the epitome of beauty. Dark hair that framed an olive complexion and dark eyes.

  But he couldn't get Mae out of his mind, and his idea of beauty was quickly changing. With her blonde hair, and the way she half-smiled and bit her lower lip when she was nervous or excited, or the way her green eyes twinkled as she laughed. The sight and smell of her was intoxicating, and he was having a hard time focusing.

  He pressed his foot on the accelerator, revving the engine. The sound was quiet, very different than the last car he'd driven for the Lit Dragons, because this engine was entirely electric. Even so, he could feel the power surge through the car, and it made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

  “Whoa!” The co-pilot in the seat next to him whooped, and tapped the dashboard with his fingers as if he were playing a tribal drum. The guy's name was Charlie, and his tuxedo was too small for his large body. His hair was long and combed over, and Ryan had never met him during any previous games. Ryan looked over at him and smiled, trying to catch the same excitement, but for some reason the excitement wouldn't come.

  “You driven with the Dragons before?” Ryan asked, running his finger around the leather steering wheel. He thought that if there had ever been a work of art that he'd driven, it was this car. Everything about it, from the sleek curves of its body, to the plush leather seats, the modern contours of the controls, and the purring engine, exuded the type of luxury that many people would never experience in their lifetimes.

  “Naw man, this is my first time.” Charlie said, too loudly, “and I'm pumped as all get out!”

  Charlie sounded local. They were in Arkansas, and Charlie's accent was thick. He wondered how Charlie had found out about the games, if he'd been approached by one of the other participants, or if he'd been recruited to replace a player who'd dropped out or died.

  The games had come a long way from where they'd started, and Ryan had to often remind himself that he'd been there at the beginning. Back when the screeching, crushing metal and shattering glass were still pure, when you felt alive at the moment of impact, when your car was airborne, or wrapped around a tree.

  But now ...

  Two things plagued him. The first was Sam, and that dumb look that'd been on his face when Ryan had found him in the snow. He remembered the smell of gasoline mixed with the smell of ice, of burned rubber and blood. Ryan would never forget his friend's raspy breathing, or his faint heartbeat, and the way his body and clothes had been sliced as he was thrown through the windshield.

  Ryan ached when he thought about Sam, or about how his wife must have felt when finding out that her husband was in a completely different state, possibly dying in a hospital. Sam was more than a co-driver, he was a friend, and Ryan wanted to call his wife a thousand times and tell her that it would be okay, that Sam would be paid, and that even if Sam never drove again, they would have enough money for the rest of their lives.

  Lit Dragons and the rules. It was the game they played. Ryan was prohibited from talking about the games with anyone outside of their group, or risk being cut off.

  Where the first distraction ached at Ryan's heart, the second made it soar. He couldn't stop thinking about Mae, and was amazed at how taken he was with her. When he was with her, it was all he could do to stop looking at her, and listening to her laugh, and taking in every detail. They spent most days together, and when he dropped her off at night, he couldn't stop thinking about her and looking forward to the next time that he would see her.

  It was never supposed to be like this.

  He was never supposed to allow himself to become attached to her. Mae had needed help, and even though he had known at the time that helping her would only make things worse, he had gone along and done it. He should have simply walked away and let the cards fall where they may, but instead, he had meddled, and he found himself more and more intoxicated with her as the days slipped by.

  He had his responsibilities too, and when the end inevitably came, he would not be able to shirk those duties.

  “Man, you with me?” Charlie shouted, pointing at the screen of the phone, which was mounted on the dashboard. Ryan shook himself from his thoughts and tightened his grip on the wheel.

  “What?” he asked, but then saw the map unfolding on the screen and the tiny blue dot that marked his car. Team Blue again, like he'd been with Sam.

  “You gone and dozed off or something,” Charlie said, his thick southern accent sounding like a donkey's brays.

  “Sorry about that,” Ryan said, sliding his seatbelt into its slot. The click was comforting, but then again, Sam had worn a seatbelt. It had malfunctioned.

  “Just don't go sleeping on me during the game. I ain’t got no deep seeded desire to end up in a gurney.”

  “You got it.”

  “Please commence,” the woman said over the speakers, and Ryan stepped hard on the accelerator. The car jerked forward through a blind alley that led to the road, and both Ryan and Charlie were thrown back in their seats from the force of the initial acceleration.

  They'd found the car parked in an abandoned lot behind the only church in the small southern town. It was the middle of the night, and the roads were virtually empty of other drivers, which was good. In order to get on the road, they had to pass through this alley, and Ryan couldn't see beyond the old brick buildings that flanked each side. Both Ryan and Charlie had been watching for headlights, and they strained their eyes for any sign of a car coming in either direction. Although wrecking the cars was almost a certainty while driving for the Lit Dragons, it was prohibited to cause accidents with civilian vehicles. Civilian wrecks happened more often than not, of course, but the financial incentive to avoid them was strong, and once you wrecked a civilian car, you were suspended from driving with the Dragons. That was incentive enough.

  Neither saw any headlights, and Ryan pressed the accelerator harder, sure that the roads were clear. Electricity surged through the engine, and the power of the car shooting from the alley was incredible. Ryan had driven hybrid cars before, but never a fully electric car, and the surge of the engine was almost as impressive as a high octane speedster. They shot forward, hitting the low, sloped curb, and Ryan jerked the wheel to the right, onto the main road, the direction that led out of town.

  Headlights suddenly appeared to their left, and they heard a roaring engine an instant before a truck smashed into the left rear side of the car, sending it into a spin. The back window shattered, spraying glass throughout the car, and Charlie screamed as the car spun on the blacktop, ending the spin with the front of their car facing the truck.

  Ryan had to catch his breath, but it only took a split second before he realized the truck was coming in for another blow. He threw the car into reverse, seeing the lift and the swinging chain on the back of the truck from the corner of his eye. The truck was massive, more than twice the size and weight of this car. If it hit them again, directly this time, they'd be crushed.

  A tow truck. They'd sent a tow truck.

  He pounded the accelerator, and the car sped backwards down the street, instantly putting some distance between them and the approaching truck. Ryan gritted his teeth as he concentrated on driving in reverse.

  “What was that?” Charlie screamed. Ryan glanced in his direction and saw that the guy was pale and panic-stricken. “We got hit by a truck, man, outta nowhere!”

  “Part of the game,” Ryan said calmly, even though he'd never experienced this particular twist before. “Check the map, what do we got?”

  “What do you mean?” Charlie said.

  “The phone, tell me if the truck is there!”

  “Only a blue dot, and ... we've got company.”

  Ryan glanced back in front of the car just long enough to see that he had put enough space between him and the truck, and to see the flashing blue lights behind the truck.

  “Is it normal to have cops this early?”

  “No,” Ryan said, but it was more of a grunt. He jerked the wheel,
sending the car into a spin, and the tires squealed on the asphalt. In the same motion, he drop shifted to third gear and revved the engine before popping the clutch. The electric engine growled in response to the change in direction, a sick crunching sound coming from beneath the hood.

  “Sorry about that,” Ryan said as they shot forward. The amount of time it had taken for him to change directions was just enough for the truck to close the distance and smash into the rear of their car. Charlie screamed as they were thrown forward.

  “Charlie, get hold of yourself!” Ryan shouted, annoyed that he'd been paired with this guy. “I need an exit! Get on your personal map and get a route going. Let me know where the other drivers are!”

  Charlie fumbled, pulling his own phone from his pocket and swiping through the screens. His hands were shaking, and he was having a hard time keeping hold of the phone.

  “Calm down, and breathe slowly,” Ryan said, trying to keep his own voice calm. Two police cars passed the tow truck and were gaining on them. Ryan shifted down and pushed the car faster, but tight curves in the road kept him from going too fast. The police cars were gaining.

  “Tell me where to go,” Ryan said.

  “A mile ahead, there is a small road that leads through a forest, and has several turn offs, you might be able to lose them there,” Charlie said.

  “Upload it,” Ryan said, and Charlie swiped the screen and the route appeared instantly on Ryan's phone, highlighted in yellow. The blue dot that represented their car moved along the yellow line as they sped down the winding roads.

  One of the cops turned on the siren, and the wailing of the sirens was like a dying animal stuck in a trap.

  “Are there usually cops involved?” Charlie's face was pale, and he kept looking over his shoulder.

  “No, not usually.”

  “Are they part of it?”

  “This is a first, if they are,” Ryan said, “and if the rules still apply, we can't be caught by the police.”