pricking and tearing at his skin, his eyes squeezed shut
Paul leaned his head forward, trying to let gravity pull the rats away from his face. At first, the swarming snatch of furry bodies and claws and teeth fought the downward pull of gravity, but they eventually fell away from his face, huddling at the bottom of the cage. Paul worked his hands in and out of the duct tape, flexing and pulling at his bonds.
He needed something sharp, and remembered the corner leg of the workbench in the dark room. If he could get to the bench, maybe he could cut through the duct tape, and if he got his hands free ...
Paul didn't want to think of that. He began rocking the chair back and forth, keeping the cage on his face steady as to not excite the little monsters.
He would have one chance, and he would have to be quick.
The rats swarmed.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“I got a hit,” the Duke said, and Heather looked up from her screen and smiled. They were both tired and burning out. She took a long swallow of her black tea and felt nothing. She could only last so long on caffeine pumped into her body. The Duke looked equally tired, but he was absently taking bites from an apple instead of ingesting caffeine.
“What is it?” she asked, hoping it was something about Paul. They'd been brainstorming and crawling the web for any sign of the lost journalist, but so far they'd come up empty. Whoever had taken him was either off the grid completely, or more likely, was masked a dozen different ways.
“Someone typed the name ‘Mae Edwards’ into their search engine. I'm tracking the ISP now, but it looks to be coming from somewhere in New England.”
“You're sure? Have you run checks against people with the same name?”
“Of course.” He took another bite of the apple, and she couldn't help but admire how cute he was. Maybe it was because she didn't get out much, or maybe it was just the thrill of talking with the Duke over video rather than just messaging. He had a dry sense of humor that only rarely came through in text, but was more apparent talking face to face. Heather had always admired him and his skills in the digital world, especially his focus and determination, but now, she was also finding herself attracted to him physically. He was good looking in a subtle way, not someone who'd draw a lot of attention walking down the street, but one whose face was hard to forget. She liked the way he looked at her, as if always trying to figure her out. But right now, he was focused on Mae, and whatever he was reading on his computer.
“I farmed out the searches for any iteration of the name Mae Edwards. Of course there have been hits by other people with the same name, and even people using the name in their searches. We used an algorithm to rule out any searches done by individuals with no connection to someone by the same name. Imperfect solution, of course, especially when you factor in VPNs and ghost profiles. We got lots of random hits and false positives, until now.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Well, the short answer is that I'm not sure this is the same Mae Edwards we're looking for,” he said and looked up from his monitor. He had such beautiful eyes, Heather thought, and wondered why it had taken her this long to convince the Duke to video chat.
“But we're relatively certain that this search for Mae Edwards is different,” he said with a slight smile. He turned back to his computer. “I'm looking at some searches by someone who is trying to figure out who Mae Edwards is. If her past is as sordid as you said, it would be consistent with the kinds of searches this guy is running. And he better be careful, because if there is anyone else out there monitoring similar activity, they'll see this too.”
“Sounds like you know it’s a guy,” Heather said. The Duke nodded and took another bite of his apple.
“Well, the computer that is running searches is registered to some guy named Ryan Coffee in Massachusetts. It's a personal computer, but there is no guarantee that it’s actually this Coffee guy using the computer. Weird name too, reminds me of a movie, but I can't place it.”
Heather didn't hear anything past the first mention of Ryan's name.
It couldn't be, she thought.
It was impossible.
Heather ran through the data in her own mind, but it didn't take long. The Lit Dragons had been driving the same night everything had gone down in Chicago. She would have had no way of knowing, or seeing just how strange it all was, if she hadn't been monitoring the police activity during the games. Ryan had flown out that night, and it was possible ... but still.
“You there?” The Duke asked, and when she looked up at him, his eyebrow was cocked questioningly.
“Yeah, I'm here.”
“Name mean anything to you?”
Heather rubbed at her temples. A headache was beginning to form right behind her eyes.
“I know him,” she said. “He's one of my drivers for Lit Dragons.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Thanks for coming,” Mae said, and Adam looked over at her and smiled. Mae rubbed her numb hands together, trying to get the circulation going again. It reminded her of being in the forest that night.
The night she'd met Ryan.
Several hours had passed since she'd climbed out of Ryan’s car. She walked for a long time before finally coming to a drugstore. They let her use the phone, and she dialed the number Adam had given her.
“No problem,” he said. “What happened?”
Mae hesitated for a moment, wondering about how things would turn out if she told Adam about Ryan. But she didn't really owe either one of them anything; the only thing getting in the way was how she felt about both of them.
How is this? she wondered, a bit disgusted with herself. Not six months ago, the possibility of having feelings for anyone was so far removed, that she would have laughed at the thought. Now she was playing a stupid little game between two guys.
Move, before the devil gets ya
Her mother’s voice.
She had to make things right, and then leave. She couldn't continue this with Adam and Ryan, because the ghost of her mom was right. They would never stop hunting her, and if she didn't move, the devil was indeed going to get her.
“I got into a fight with someone,” she said slowly. “His name is Ryan.”
She let the silence sink in, and they continued to drive along the road, bouncing up and down with every bump. Mae suddenly realized that Adam was wearing cologne, a sweet and woodsy scent that suited him. She watched him drive his jaw clenched.
“Ryan?”
“Yeah. I met him a couple of weeks ago.”
He laughed nervously and shrugged it off, as if telling her that it was no big deal. Mae wondered if he regretted putting the cologne on.
“What was the fight about?” he asked.
“Something really stupid.”
He waited for her to expound, and when she didn't, he licked his lips. He turned onto the freeway and sped up. It wasn't snowing much any more, and what little snow was falling was wet and heavy, splattering onto the windshield and running in streams up and over the car.
“So, where do I take you?” Adam asked.
“Adam?”
He didn't respond, but glanced over at her. Mae smiled crookedly at him, and couldn't help but remember Ryan telling her that he liked it when she smiled like that. She hated herself for thinking Ryan at that moment, but still the rushing flutter of butterflies whirled in her stomach.
“I like you a lot,” she said. “I've liked you ever since that first day, maybe even loved you. We have a long history, and I've never stopped thinking about you. Through all these years, I've never stopped.”
“But you've got feelings for someone else?” he asked.
“Both of you are so suddenly in my life that I don't know what to think. I just don't know.”
“Well, it seems pretty simple, right?”
Mae stared at him, not knowing what to say. It wasn't simple, and maybe that was something he would never understand. She wanted to lean into him, to feel h
is body again, pressed against hers, but it wasn't simple. No matter how she felt about Ryan or Adam, she had to leave. It wasn't simple at all, but she doubted that he wanted to hear that. Mae didn’t think he would understand when she told him that she had to go. That she could never stop running, because they will forever be hunting.
Not if you fight back.
The voice was her own, and it came from nowhere. You don't have to run if you fight against the hunters, she thought, if you defeat the hunters.
“Mae?”
She looked at him, and the steeliness was gone from his eyes. Replaced again with the warmth she remembered from so long ago.
“It's okay,” he said. “I haven't seen you in years, and I guess I've thought about you too. I can't help it that you met someone else. It's okay, really.”
Mae suddenly leaned toward him and planted a kiss on his cheek. The smell of his skin was clean, mixed with the subtle cologne. She would have swooned, if not for the underlying chant in her mind. Fight back, fight back, the hunters will only stop hunting if you fight back.
“I don't want to talk about this right now,” she said. “I do need to talk to Ryan though. I need to apologize, and then, I need to sort it all out.”
Could she fight against the hunters? And win? Mae didn't know, but she didn't want to run anymore.
Adam nodded as if he understood.
“You don't mind, do you?” Mae asked. She took his hand in hers and was surprised by her own forwardness.
“Of course not.”
“I like you, Adam.”
He squeezed her hand gently, but said nothing.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Paul crashed to the floor, and the edges of the cage smashed into his face, drawing blood. The rats' squeals became a screaming roar in Paul's ears, and he fought the urge to scream himself. He was laying on his side, still taped to the chair, the rats now huddled on the side of the cage, which was flush with the floor, his head wrenched up and away from them. This was a worse position, he supposed, as the little monsters would not have to climb up the sides of the cage to get to his face.
He tried to move toward the corner of the table leg, tried to squirm from side to side to get any traction at all toward the table, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move his body. He was stuck, pinned by gravity and the angle at which he had fallen. He felt like he was in a cave and the rock walls were pressing in on him, like he was in the dark, submerged in water. He couldn't breathe, and the sound of the squeaking and clawing and gnashing was deafening.
Paul tried to remain calm, to focus on breathing and think about his dusty summer childhood, but every time he conjured an image, a rat would brush up against his face, its long, worm-like tail snaking around his lips and cheeks. The rats piled up on themselves, their furry bodies and goatish odors suffocating him. He couldn't breathe.
He lifted his head as far as he could and smashed the cage into the ground. The rats swarmed angrily, and it felt like a million rats in that tiny cage. Where was the girl on the phone, the one who'd tried to save him? Where was Dennis, or his ex-wife, or the police, or anyone? Paul had never felt so alone as he did right then, in the dark, struggling to breathe.
Except that he wasn't alone.
They're going to eat me, he thought, and the bubble of panic, the taste of bitter bile, burst inside him. Paul lifted his head again and again, smashing the cage into the concrete, screaming. The rats flew into a frenzy and he froze.
Under the spreading chestnut tree
Even as the madness set in, a calmness overtook him. This was it. Paul had reached the end of the line, no transfer, do not collect $200 when you pass go. His ticket was punched, and he didn't know why he was being killed. He knew too much, but eve so, why kill him? What grand scheme was he threatening, such that he had to be eliminated?
Not even a pawn in a game he didn't know he was playing.
Madness enveloped him in full swing, but he took a deep breath and let it go. He thought about his search for truth, and it was enough that he had tried. Darkness surrounded him, the rats bit and clawed at his face, but hoped the truth would still prevail. He had paved the way for Il Contionum to be exposed. For light to triumph. For truth.
The rats were upon him now, and he didn't feel their claws, didn't hear their furious squeaks and squabbles, because finally, mercifully, he let himself go back to that long ago summer, his legs burning from the effort of riding his bike up a thousand hills, his face and shirt wet with sweat, the cool soda pop in hand and the taste of fiery cinnamon.
And to Paul, that was just fine.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“I'll be right back,” Mae said, eyeing the mansion that was Ryan's house. Although he'd invited her to his home, she'd politely declined every time. And now, looking up at it, she couldn't believe just how big it was, reminding her of a modern castle.
“They call these things McMansions, you know,” Adam said quietly, “like quick service, low quality houses you get at the drive through.”
“Are you pouting?” she asked with a sly smile, and he chuckled, shaking his head. Truth be told, Mae was kind of flattered that he was upset they were there. Apparently, she wasn't the only one who felt their connection.
“You sure you want me to stay?”
“Of course,” she leaned into him and kissed him again on the cheek. He tried to hold her, to kiss her on the mouth, but she turned away.
“I'll be back in a few minutes,” she said.
“Okay, hurry though.”
“I will.” She opened up the door and shivered in the blast of cold air and snow. Adam offered his coat, but she was already gone, darting up to the front door. He watched her go, then peered up at the house. It was massive, and Adam felt a little self-conscious at the size. He rented an apartment in town, and its modest size could probably fit in the garage.
The door opened and Adam caught a glimpse of this guy, Ryan. Ryan looked past Mae to see who was still in the driveway, but Mae pushed him inside and shut the door behind her. For a just a second, he could see their figures in the blurred glass window in the center of the door, and then they were gone, disappearing in the mass of house.
Adam turned on the radio. He liked classic rock, and one of his favorite songs, American Pie, came through the speakers. After a minute of listening though, he shut off the radio and fidgeted. He hated being here, waiting for Mae to finish up with another guy. The fact that she'd kissed him and promised to come back were good signs though. Ever since seeing her for the first time since their days in high school, he couldn't get her off his mind.
Back then, Mae had not belonged to the “in” crowd, but she was well-liked, pretty and funny. He remembered loving her laugh, and the way she would look at you like she was trying to put a puzzle together. Mae was always trying to figure people out, as if she was looking for a secret she hoped was there, but more often than not, couldn't find it.
Things made a little more sense on the last day he'd seen her in high school, when her dad had come with several other people to pull her out of school. Adam had seen the guns. Not everyone had one, and those that did had done their best to keep the weapons hidden from the students. But Adam had seen them, and he knew right then and there that Mae had secrets of her own.
Now, Mae was more quiet and elusive, like she was hiding her own puzzle pieces and refusing to reveal them to anyone. If she had been pretty in high school, she was beautiful now, and Adam had a difficult time not thinking about her.
Where was she? Adam peered up at the house, searching for any sign of her. He considered walking up to the front door, but that would be awkward, of course. He looked at his watch and saw that only three or four minutes had passed, and he decided that he would wait at least ten minutes before doing anything.
A movement in his rear view mirror caught his eye. He looked up and saw a semi-truck pulling onto the street, pulling a large semi-trailer.
That's odd, he thought, wondering w
hy such a large truck was driving through such a nice residential neighborhood. The brakes on the truck squeaked, and the truck pulled to a stop a few houses down from where Adam was parked.
A soft tap on the driver's side window drew his attention away from the truck. He looked to his left and saw someone in black fatigues holding the muzzle of a silenced rifle to his window. He saw a flash an instant before the first bullet smashed through the window, shattered glass exploding inward.
“No,” Adam yelled. “Wait, wait!”
The second bullet caught him in the shoulder as he was raising his hands to show that he was unarmed. That's stupid, he thought absently as his body was thrown from his seat and into the passenger side window. In the last instant before the third bullet was fired, he saw three, no four other people in black fatigues with guns, running toward the house.
The snow fell around them, and darkness swallowed Adam whole.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Ryan is one of your drivers?” The Duke asked, his eyebrows arched, “for your Dragon thingy?”
“Lit Dragons, yeah,” Heather said, thinking through the events of the night in Chicago that seemed so long ago.
Ryan had flown out from O'Hare. She remembered booking the ticket for him, and remembered paying the bill for the driver who'd taken him to the airport. Ryan had been at the airport a few hours before the cop who was shot had been found. The cop who turned out not to be a cop.
Maybe they had met at the airport? Heather frowned, and chewed on her thumbnail, thinking. Maybe they’d met and he’d discovered something about her, or figured that she had a sketchy past and done an internet search for her.
But then that was assuming she'd told him her real name, which, given the fact that she’d spent most of her life in hiding, seemed very unlikely. Not to mention, if she was running from someone or something, why would she trust Ryan with her real name?
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 42