The Snow Swept Trilogy

by Derrick Hibbard

The ringing grew louder and Mae was gone. He wasn’t in the car, but lying on his back somewhere. Ryan tasted smoke and his lungs felt hot, as if they’d been set on fire. His entire body hurt, and when he tried to move, he found that his muscles and joints were stiffer than they’d ever been in his life, even after wrecking a car during a game with the Lit Dragons.

  The ringing stopped for several seconds, then started back up again. Slowly, Ryan opened his eyes and stared at a white-tiled ceiling. To his left was an IV tree, dripping clear fluids.

  The ringing was coming from his right, and he looked toward the sound. His cell phone was on top of the nightstand there, along with a set of keys, some crumpled receipts and some loose change. With great effort, he reached for his phone, picking it up and examining the number before answering the call. The area code was from Chicago, Illinois, but he didn’t recognize it.

  He felt a stab of anxiety, thinking that the caller might have had something to do with the attack at his house.

  But Mae was still gone, as far as he knew. If the caller knew something about the attack, maybe he could find out about what had happened to Mae.

  He answered the call and held it to his ear.

  “Hello?” Ryan said softly.

  “Ryan?”

  It was a woman, and he recognized the voice, but could not place where he’d heard it before. He strained to remember for several seconds, but nothing came to him.

  “Yeah, this is Ryan. Who are you?”

  “My name is Heather Gardner.”

  Her voice was smooth and melodic, and it struck another cord with Ryan. He knew he’d heard the voice before.

  “Okay. Who are you?”

  “First, are you okay? I see that you’ve been taken to a hospital.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Are you okay."

  "I'm okay, I guess."

  "As soon as you can, you need to leave the hospital. The people who came after you tonight will probably be back."

  "How do you know—" Ryan's voice trailed off as he realized where he'd heard that voice before. It was the woman who began each game with the Lit Dragons. Even now, Ryan could hear her voice speaking those words: Welcome to Lit Dragons, and it sparked an excitement in him that only came with driving and destroying cars.

  But that was impossible. How would she have his personal cell number, and how could she possibly have known about the attack and his being in the hospital? He thought about how their cars were tracked during the games, how the emergency workers were called to the scenes of the accidents, how police were diverted from the games and how traffic lights always seemed to open in their favor. Of course someone had to be at those controls, overseeing the details to make the games possible. But that left the question: why would she call him? Why would she warn him?

  "Ryan?" she asked after a few seconds of silence.

  "Lit Dragons," he said.

  "Bingo."

  "You have a very pretty voice." Ryan's voice was a little too sarcastic.

  "Thank you," she replied.

  "Now, who are you and why are you calling me?"

  "My name is Heather Gardner," she repeated, tentative at first. "In addition to running the Lit Dragon games, I have a very particular skill set with data."

  "What does that mean?"

  "I'm a programmer and data analyst. For the games, we have to subvert and infiltrate DOT and law enforcement computer systems."

  "You're a hacker," Ryan said.

  "Yes. Simplistically, yes. On the night of your race in Chicago, I and a few others were monitoring data, and we noticed an irregularity. There was someone else there, someone who had also gained backdoor access to law enforcement systems. We're talking expert level infiltration, something most would not be capable of."

  "Except for you. Of course," Ryan said.

  "Well, yes. I told you, I have a very particular skill set."

  Even though he couldn't see her, Ryan thought he detected a smile in her voice. It made her seem more human and real, and he relaxed slightly.

  "You heard about the shootings in the airport and hospital on that night?" she asked.

  "Of course, it was all over the news."

  "At the time, we were already plugged into the law enforcement networks, and we noticed that someone was making changes to police records in connection with the shootings. They were changing reports to remove any mention of a certain individual, and to change the facts surrounding the shootings. We expanded the scope and saw that reports to the media were being altered as well. The facts were changing as they were happening to hide something."

  "Okay, wait. Who's 'we'?" Ryan interrupted. He shifted in the hospital bed, his muscles and joints protesting the movement.

  "Friends of mine," she said. "I have—had—a friend who was very interested in identifying corruption. He would expose truth that was hidden from public eye. They killed him tonight, right before they tried to kill me. It was an orchestrated attack, and the attack on you was part of it, to regain control of the situation. We think that something bigger than all of this is coming. We have no idea what, but they are tying up loose ends and destroying any possibility of their plans being disrupted."

  "Okay," Ryan said. "That's all good, and very noble, but how did I get roped up in all this?"

  "I wasn't even aware of your connection until just before my apartment was stormed. You did an internet search for someone named "Mae Edwards." We noticed you search, so I'm sure they noticed as well. It may have even been what set the attack tonight in motion.”

  "Mae..." Ryan said.

  Because he'd searched for her name on the internet? It didn't seem possible, but then again none of this seemed possible. The empty feeling in his stomach deepened at the thought that he'd somehow been the cause of the attack and her kidnapping. He remembered the night that he'd typed her name into his internet browser, and he remembered feeling guilty as he did so. Of course, the way they had met had been weird. He'd known that something was not quite right about her even from the beginning. She'd been running, and she had used a different name and passport to keep her identity hidden. At the time, he hadn't given it much thought, thinking that she was leaving behind an abusive boyfriend, or looking for a fresh start from a rocky past. He'd been there before himself, and who was he to dredge Mae through her past? He didn't want to push her into telling him anything, and most of all, Ryan trusted her. It was crazy, but there was something about her that caused him to trust her more than he should have, but he couldn't help it. He knew that if it mattered to Mae that he know her secrets, then she would simply tell him. Because she hadn't said anything, he let it go. Something had started for them, some chemistry he'd never felt before with anyone else. He didn't want to ruin that.

  But then several nights ago, she'd warned him about the danger with being close to her. He'd scoffed at first, but there was something about the way she'd looked at him. Something deep down, a sadness that she wanted to keep hidden. It was that look that stayed with him and as the days passed, he began to wonder if whatever she was running from was worse than he'd initially thought. On a whim, he'd googled her, but had found nothing related to the Mae Edwards he'd been falling in love with. Even now, even as thoughts of her seemed like a fading dream from which he'd just woken, he ached for her. He wanted to be near her, to feel her touch and to smell her hair and skin, to hear her laugh.

  They had taken her, and he had let them take her.

  "Why did you do the internet search?" Heather asked, shaking Ryan from his thoughts.

  "It's not really an easy answer," he shrugged. "I was curious because of something she said to me."

  "So you know her then," Heather said.

  "Yeah. We met on the plane coming out of Chicago that same night." Ryan said. "We've become close over the last few weeks, and she was there tonight when they attacked."

  "Ryan." Heather's voice was urgent. "You need to stay as far away from her as possible. From what
I've read, this secret group, Il Contionum, has killed everyone who's had anything to do with her. It's all connected. The night in Chicago, the shootings, them killing my friend, attacking you in your house."

  "You don't get it," Ryan said. "She was with me when they attacked, and they took her."

  "But they left you alive?"

  "I don't know if they meant to."

  "You need to leave town and lie low for a couple of weeks. Stay off the grid and forget about that girl. She's dangerous."

  "I can't do that," Ryan said. "I'm going after her. If these people are as dangerous as you say, then she doesn't have a chance on her own."

  "Ryan," she said, her voice hard and stubborn. "They will kill you. I don't even know if it's possible to find her, but you won't be able to do it. Whoever this is, they are more powerful than you can imagine. And I'm not even sure that they would kill her. Everything that I've seen seems to indicate that they want her alive."

  "Why would they want her alive?"

  Heather was quiet for several seconds.

  "I don't know," Heather said finally. "The point is, I don't think they'll kill her. But they won't hesitate to kill you. That is assuming you could even find them, which I doubt is possible."

  "Well, then I need your help," Ryan said. A nurse came into the room and frowned over thick-framed glasses at him, disapproving of his telephone call. She began checking monitors and fluid levels.

  "Listen," Heather said, "they killed my friend, and I want nothing more than to expose them. Destroy them. But I'm going to do it safely, behind firewalls and protections. The truth will destroy them faster than you barging through their front door, guns blazing. If you go after her, they will kill you, and I don't want any part of that. I'm not going to help you kill yourself."

  "Then I'll do it myself."

  "Oh really?" Heather sounded slightly amused, given the circumstances. "And how do you think you'll do that?"

  "I’ll google her name," Ryan said. "Seemed to work last time."

  Heather didn't say anything for a long time. Ryan could almost hear her mind working that idea. The nurse stepped in front of him and placed her hands on her hips like his nanny would do when he was little and had done something she was upset about.

  "You need to get off the phone," she whispered, and Ryan nodded with a pained smile.

  "Ryan?" Heather asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Don't do anything until you hear from me. I will call you soon."

  And then she hung up.

  Ryan shifted uncomfortably in the bed and propped himself onto one elbow. For the first time, he noticed that there was someone else in the room besides the nurse. There was a guy about the same age as Ryan, sitting in the corner of the room. A guy he'd only seen once before, climbing into the ambulance with him on the way to the hospital. The guy looked as though he'd been sleeping, but he was now sitting up and watching Ryan with a shallow smile. He was wearing a shirt with a picture of a kitten and some flowers printed on the front above the phrase: GET WELL SOON AT MERCY SOUTH HOSPITAL. The shirt was too large, and Ryan could see that it was pulled over a bulging bandage on the guy's shoulder.

  "You need your rest, sir," the nurse said, taking his phone from him and replacing it on the nightstand. "Your body needs to heal."

  "Who are you?" Ryan asked the guy in the corner, ignoring the nurse.

  "My name is Adam," he said, a look of flinty determination in his eyes. "I'm going to help you find Mae."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Heather ended the call with Ryan and sipped the last few drops of her chamomile tea. It disturbed her to think that Ryan was so attached to the Mae girl, and she wondered what this girl had going for her that guys were fawning over her and secret government organizations wanted her dead or captured. Mae was the key to this whole mess. She was the reason the Duke had been killed, the reason that soldiers had stormed her apartment, intent on killing her. She found it hard not to resent the girl she’d never met, yet who’d caused so much disruption in her life. But wait, resentment was too mild a word. Heather wanted to see Mae crash and burn as much as Il Contionum and everyone involved.

  What Ryan had said disturbed her. It seemed as though he had feelings for this girl and was genuinely surprised to find out about her involvement—intentional or not—with killers. His feelings for this mystery girl bothered Heather, not because she had any feelings for Ryan, but because it meant she was not some faceless monster leaving destruction and death in her wake. She was a human being, and she was possibly even as scared and confused about the situation as Heather was.

  But Mae seemed to be the only solid link to Il Contionum. In order to expose and destroy the secret organization, it had to be through Mae. She knew of only one person who’d had any information about Mae, more than what the Duke was able to glean from the internet, which wasn’t much. Paul Freemont. The reporter who’d gone missing while talking to her on the phone. Still, she had no idea what had happened to him, but she knew that if his computer was still in his apartment, she would probably find the papers and notes that he’d gathered.

  Heather felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of what she had to do. What if soldiers had been to his apartment first and cleaned it of any useful information?

  What if they were waiting for her? Her stomach flipped at the thought and she felt like throwing up.

  It didn’t matter. If she was going to continue down this road, the road in which she exposed all these secrets and crimes, then she would have to take the risk. The Duke had paid the ultimate price for what he thought was the right thing to do. Even aside from the fact that they’d come after her and tried to kill her in her own home, Il Contionum was bad. Who knew how many people had been killed, how many disasters had been covered up to suit their purposes?

  No, she had already made her decision. She would get into Paul’s apartment and use the information he had there. When she was ready, she would draw them to her.

  She also needed the information if she was going to help Ryan find this girl, Mae. She thought it was a stupid idea, but after having thought about it for a few moments, decided that there was a chance they could work together to bring Il Contionum down.

  She lifted her mug for another swallow of tea and stared with dismay at the empty bottom of the cup, freckled with tiny leaves that had escaped the tea bag. It was her fifth cup of tea since escaping the soldiers who’d tried to kill her, and the promised calming effect of the chamomile was not working. She studied the tea leaves, remembering old stories she used to read when she was younger, where old gypsy women would divine the future based on the leaves in the bottom of the cup. Almost always, the tea leaves spelled out danger or even death, causing the woman to screech and drop the cup. Heather smiled at the memories, but wondered what her tea leaves said about her own future. Maybe something good would come of all this—truth, maybe. The absolute truth the Duke had been seeking. Or maybe death.

  Heather set the cup on the table and shrugged. Either way, she would uncover the truth.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When the nurse left the room, the guy who'd been sitting in the corner stood and extended his hand toward Ryan, who shook his head and leaned back in his hospital bed. He coughed, and the taste of smoke filled his mouth. His lungs ached and his body hurt, but he ignored the pain and studied the other guy.

  "Who are you?"

  "I just told you. My name is Adam."

  "You'll forgive me if I'm not super trusting and friendly at the moment." Ryan said and motioned to the door. "Now, tell me who you are and why you're in my room, or I'll have to ask you to leave."

  "I'm a friend of Mae's," Adam said.

  He returned to his chair in the corner, but slid it closer to the bed before sitting down.

  "I was the one who drove Mae to your house," Adam continued. "I was in the driveway when those... people came."

  "Where were you when they started shooting?"

  "Being shot myself," Ada
m nodded toward the bulging bandage on his shoulder.

  "And you knew nothing about the attack?"

  "What are you getting at?"

  "Well," Ryan said, "seems pretty convenient that you showed up right before it all went down."

  "I was shot, dude," Adam stood, frustrated, then said, "Listen, I don't care if you trust me or not. I don't know you, and I don't really care to know you. I do care about Mae, and if you're going after her, then I'm going with you. I was attacked, just the same as you. I could be grilling you right now as well, about how you let them take Mae. For all I know, you're here in the hospital because she fought you. But I'm not going to ask you that, because I want her back."

  Ryan shifted in his bed and scowled out the window. He tried to think clearly through the medication-induced fog in his mind and tried to come up with a biting retort, but nothing came to him. What Adam said was true, and he did have a point. He hadn't been inside the house when they'd attacked him and Mae, and when she'd been taken.

  Just the thought of her made his heart ache. The question was sound. How had he let them take her? She trusted him, and he'd failed her.

  "You're right," Ryan said, finally. "I'm sorry."

  "It's cool." Adam shrugged. "I just, you know, I want her to be safe."

  "You said she was your friend?"

  "Yeah. We knew each other in high school. We were—" Adam hesitated, "—we were close in high school. But until a few days ago, I hadn't seen her for a couple of years."

  "She called you?" Ryan asked, his eyebrows raised. He knew that she'd been upset about their fight, and he'd known that she would have had to call someone to pick her up from where she'd insisted on being dropped off, but he didn't think Mae had seen anyone else but him in the days before their fight. As far as he knew, she'd been with him nearly every day since meeting at the airport.

  "I work for the hotel where she's staying," Adam said. "I saw her there a few days ago and we just started talking again. We spent the entire day just talking and catching up. I guess I never realized how much I missed her until I saw her there."