by L. S. O'Dea
“Sorry. You don’t have to help. I just thought—”
“I was kidding.” He shot a disgusted look at Christian, who was once again mostly submerged in the water. “You did save me from that thing.”
“Christian,” she corrected.
Christian’s black, unblinking eyes stared at him.
He shivered. It was because his clothes were wet. It didn’t have anything to do with the lifeless eyes of the water predator. Yeah, right. “I don’t think it would have let me go.”
“Probably not,” she said, staring at Christian.
“How long will it take to get to the Tracker camp through the forest? I still need to get you to Hugh’s before Benedictine finds out that we switched you and Viola.” Casper’s life depended on it.
“Unless Kim came back for it, there’s a canoe over here.”
“How do you...is this where you met Kim?” Things were starting to make a little sense.
She walked over to a pile of brush. “Yeah, that’s what Kim was doing down here.” She glanced at him and smiled. “She wasn’t meeting a lover.” She began pushing the vegetation aside, uncovering the craft. “Help me get it into the lake.”
“You want to use that tiny canoe with that thing in the water?” He shook his head. “No way. That fish-thing can tip this—”
“He won’t. Trust me.” She yanked on the craft, barely moving it.
For some reason, he did trust her. “I’m going to regret this. I know I am.”
He brushed her aside and picked up the boat. He dropped it into the lake, keeping Christian in his sight as they stepped in the water and then climbed into the canoe. He’d just taken the oars and sat down when Christian dipped below the surface.
“Where is he?” He looked around nervously.
There was no movement in the water and then suddenly, Christian emerged next to them.
He jerked back almost tipping the canoe, the oars slipping from his hands as he fought to keep afloat. Christian disappeared and something scraped along the underside of the boat. His heart pounded like he’d run miles. This was never going to work. The creature was going to capsize them and eat him.
“Calm down.” She touched his hand.
“We can’t go. I dropped the paddles.” He couldn’t keep the relief from his voice or face. They’d have to figure out another way to travel.
“We don’t need them.” She dangled the rope that was attached to the boat in the lake. Christian popped his head out of the water.
“Can you take us to the Tracker camp?” she asked.
Christian rose out of the water and slashed his hand back and forth through the air.
“Yes,” she said. “Tracker.”
Christian dropped back under the water. The rope grew taut and the boat began moving.
He shook his head. “Unbelievable.” If he made it through this, he would certainly have a story to tell.
The wind whipped though his hair as they flew across the lake.
He glanced at her. “You have to tell me how you became friends with this...”
She frowned.
“Christian,” he corrected.
“Well...” She began telling him the story as they left the lake and entered the river.
CHAPTER 35
TRINITY AND JACKSON were making good time traveling by boat. Christian kept moving at a fast clip, even with the extra burden of pulling both of them in the canoe. Some of the river wound through the newer, more cleared areas of the woods, but there were smaller branches that led into the deep forest and Christian took many of those.
Trinity glanced at Jackson. His jaw was clenched and he squinted into the darkness. He was worried too.
“Do you know where we are?” she whispered.
“No. I’ve never been this far into the forest. Are you sure you can trust him.” He stared at the front of the boat where the rope disappeared into the water.
What did she really know about Christian? Nothing. She’d saved him once and he hadn’t killed her once. Maybe, they were even. He could be taking them to his friends for dinner. Mirra had said they lived in groups.
“Yeah. I think so.” She smiled weakly at him.
“I knew I was going to regret this.” He leaned down and dug into his boot. He pulled out a long knife and handed it to her. “I assume you know how to use this, since you were carrying a similar one when we caught you.”
“Thanks.” She tested the weight in her hands, immediately feeling safer. She slipped it into the sheath attached to her belt which she’d kept when she’d traded clothes with Viola.
“I don’t know what good it will do if this...Christian is taking us to others like him. We’re no match for them in the water.” He looked around. “Even if we get away from him, it’s dangerous this deep in the forest. I never believed there was much out here, but when I was track...hunting you, I came across some interesting scents and trails. I wouldn’t want to be alone out here.”
“We’ll be fine. We can trust Christian,” she reassured herself as much as him.
The boat began to slow, the rope growing slack.
“It looks like we’ll find out soon enough,” he said.
There were trees nearby. She could jump to one, but she didn’t think Jackson was able to leap very far, if at all. If she had to, could she leave him? He was a Guard and had been her captor.
“Stay behind me as much as you can,” he said, voice low. “If it goes bad, and you see a chance to make it to land, don’t hesitate.” He shifted so that his bulk blocked as much of her as possible.
No, she wouldn’t leave him. He may have started as her captor, but he was a friend now. She sighed. Mirra was right. She had too many friends.
The boat glided under numerous low hanging branches. She brushed the greybeard moss out of her face. The plant gave her the creeps with the way it sucked life from the surrounding air. The boat stopped and Christian’s head emerged from the water. He pointed ahead to a tunnel etched out of the land.
“Please tell me we’re not going through there,” said Jackson.
Christian kept pointing and then he put his flippers together and jerked his arms back and forth.
“He’s trying to tell us something.”
“Yeah, that we’ll taste good,” he mumbled.
“He hasn’t harmed us yet.” She shot him a dirty look.
“Benedictine hasn’t hurt you yet, but you don’t want to be alone with him.”
He had her there. “Good point.”
Christian moved forward in the water and brushed aside the moss hanging from a tree limb in front of the tunnel.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“I can’t tell.” She couldn’t see as well in the dark as she’d like.
“It’s a grate of some sort,” he said, squinting.
She glared at the back of his head. Apparently, he could see better in the dark than she could. “Oh, yeah. A grate.” She still couldn’t make out anything in the blackness.
Christian pulled on it and the metal squeaked. He turned back around and waved for them to come over to him.
“I think he needs help,” she said, looking over the side of the boat. The water was dark and it stank. Algae and garbage floated on the top and just under the surface.
“I do not want to get in that.” His face twisted with disgust.
Christian was standing so it wasn’t that deep, but it was nasty.
“Me either,” she said, her own lip curling. She wouldn’t be surprised if there were feces in the water.
They looked at each other. With a sigh, he crawled out of the boat and into the water. It came up to his waist. He closed his eyes for a moment and grimaced.
Maybe, it was the stress of the last couple of weeks or simply the idea of this large, dangerous Guard standing in poop water, but she couldn’t stop herself from giggling.
“It’s not funny,” he snapped.
“No. Of course not.” She tried to keep a straight fac
e, but failed miserably.
“The two of us might not be strong enough. We may need your help,” he snarled at her.
Her smile died. He wasn’t kidding.
He smirked and trudged over to the grate. Christian moved to the side a bit, giving Jackson room to put his hands on the metal.
“Gross.” He pulled his hands off, wiping them on his shirt. “It’s slimy.”
She bit her lip. If she laughed again, she had no doubt that they’d need her assistance.
The two males pulled and the metal groaned in protest. They pulled again and again until it finally budged, making a grinding sound as it was forced open. They shoved it wide enough for the boat to pass.
Panting, Jackson crawled back into the canoe.
“You stink.” She bit the side of her mouth. What was wrong with her? Why was she provoking him?
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically.
Christian motioned for them to get down. They lay on the floor of the boat, back to back.
“If he eats us, I’m going to feel like a giant fool. Not only did I willingly go with him but I helped him,” he mumbled.
She covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a laugh. It really wasn’t funny. Either she was losing her mind, or the stress was getting to her. She breathed deeply through her nose to calm herself and the stench of the sewage water eliminated any thought of laughter.
The trip through the tunnel was dark. Not even the moon penetrated the channel. There was nothing but blackness and air ripe with rotting sewage. She was going to pinch her nose to block the scent but then she’d have to breathe through her mouth and the thought of remnants of that odor on her tongue made her gag. Instead, she took frequent, small sniffs and stared into nothingness as the waves lapped against the side of the boat. That sound interspersed with the groaning of the rope from the pressure of pulling them. She leaned a little heavier against Jackson, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the only comfort in this midnight symphony.
Maybe, she should have gone to Hugh. She’d probably be with her parents now, tucked into a warm, soft bed. Yeah, while the life blood was drained from Mirra and Gaar. She had to help them. There really was no other choice. Of course, how she was going to save them with only Jackson to assist her, she wasn’t sure. A tree branch, covered in greybeard moss, loomed in the darkness, its branches reaching out toward them. She wriggled closer to him and then paused. She could see. It was lighter. They were out of the tunnel.
They both leaned up at the same time. Christian was walking, pulling the boat. The water was no longer deep enough for him to swim. In the distance a building stood. It looked familiar.
“We’re here.” Jackson clapped her on the back and stepped out of the boat. “The tunnel took us under the wall.”
“Will you wait here for us?” she asked Christian, as she hopped into the water to stand by Jackson.
Christian bobbed his head.
They left the water for dry land and began climbing the hill that would take them to the Tracker camp.
“I have to tell you, I didn’t think we were going to make it. That tunnel was dark. I thought for sure it was a trap,” he said.
She’d thought that too, but she didn’t want to admit it.
He stopped near the top of the hill and sniffed. “Smell that?”
She turned away in order to avoid the sewage odor that still lingered on him and inhaled deeply. “Yes. It’s the Trackers.”
“We’re downwind from them, so we should be able to get close before they smell us.”
They started walking again and stopped several yards from the building. They were approaching the camp from the opposite direction than she had before.
“I’ve been thinking,” he whispered. “They don’t know that I’ve left Benedictine. This is what I think we should do.” He leaned closer and told her his plan.
She was going to be chased by Guards again. She hoped this went a little smoother than the last time. She nodded her agreement and he sauntered across the clearing and entered the building. She fidgeted. She was supposed to wait about five minutes. She tried counting in her head but her mind kept wandering. The time before, she would have died if it hadn’t been for Gaar. Could she trust Jackson? She didn’t have a choice if she wanted to help Mirra and Gaar. She took a deep breath and darted into the Tracker camp. There was no turning back now. She slowed down as she passed the building. It was still dark and she needed to make sure that at least one of the Guards saw her through the window.
The Trackers caught her scent and started growling and howling. Her instincts screamed for her to get as far away from the large predators as possible but she moved closer. Some yanked on their chains, lashing out at her. She cringed, unable to help herself.
Mirra struggled against her restraints, once again tied to the bars of the cage by her wrists, ankles and neck. “Little One, no.” Mirra tried to yell, but her voice was harsh and the sound came out as a crackle.
Her heart broke to see the proud creature brought so low and it was her fault. She wanted to run directly to Mirra, but she had to keep with the plan.
A Guard stepped out of the building. “Over there,” he yelled, and pointed at her.
Two other Guards came outside and then the three of them headed toward her.
She stood her ground, her legs trembling. She had to wait for the signal. There was a slight scuffling sound from the building and then Jackson came outside.
It was time. She raced toward the forest. Two of the three Guards immediately chased after her. They were faster than the Guards at the Finishing camp, but she was farther away. Another few yards and she’d be at the tree line. Hopefully, Jackson had taken care of the other Guards. That left only the two chasing her. She leapt onto a tree and hung there, waiting as the Guards quickly approached. Jackson had better hurry. In a minute, she’d have to move or be caught and she was not going to be caught again.
Then Jackson appeared, barreling through the brush. He caught up to the slowest Guard, and used the handle of his knife to bash the Guard upside the head as he ran past. The Guard dropped to the ground in an unmoving heap. The other Guard skidded to a halt at the tree. She climbed higher.
“What in blazes?” The Guard stared up at her.
Jackson crept up behind him. He was almost there when there was a sharp crack. She glanced down at his foot. He’d stepped on a twig.
The Guard turned. “Where are...”
Jackson smiled and punched the Guard in the nose. The Guard stumbled backward but didn’t fall. Jackson shook his hand and the Guard lunged at him, knocking the knife from Jackson’s grasp.
Should she help? She could drop from the tree and grab the knife. Could she stab another Guard? What if she accidentally got Jackson? She hung on the tree, undecided.
The two Guards hit the ground in a rolling heap of arms and legs. The Guard hit Jackson in the face, but he countered by shoving his head into the Guard’s chest and rolling. Jackson was on top now and was finally able to grasp the Guard’s neck and slowly cut off his air supply. When the Guard passed out, he loosened his hold.
Her arms quivered as she dropped to the ground. “That went better than the last time.” She clamped her mouth shut. She should not have mentioned that.
“What...last...time?” he asked, panting as he stood.
“Uhm...well...” She really shouldn’t tell him about the killing of the Guards at the Finishing Camp.
“There’s some rope in the Guard house. We need to tie them up before they wake. It’s in the small closet across from the door, not the large closet that’s latched shut. Don’t open the latch. I stuck one of the Guards in there. She’s conscious. Don’t open that closet,” he repeated.
“The small closet. Got it.” He was speaking to her like she was an idiot, but she’d let it go. Maybe in the rush, he’d forget about her comment.
The five Trackers in the yard were howling and pacing. The four in the cages stared silently at them, Mirra with
a shocked expression on her face.
“I’ll start dragging them to the building. I’m not leaving them out here. I don’t want anyone killed.” He grinned at her. “You can tell me what you meant about the last time you did something like this while we tie everyone up.”
She smiled back although she was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace. Hopefully, he didn’t consider all Guards as brothers. She ran to get the rope.
After the Guards were secured inside the house, he took a set of keys off the wall. The Guard in the closet continued to yell and kick the door.
“You’d better be quiet,” he said. “I’m turning the Tracker loose. She doesn’t need an excuse to tear you limb from limb. Your best bet is that she forgets you exist.”
The noise from the closet stopped. He winked at Trinity and locked the door as they left.
“If they keep quiet, the Guards should be safe.” He laughed as they walked to the Tracker cages. “So, you set the Producers at the Finishing Camp free. Benedictine is going to be livid. Things are not going well for him.”
She’d skipped over the part about killing the Guards. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. She raced to the cages. “Mirra!”
“Little One,” whispered Mirra. “You no be here.”
He began unlocking Mirra’s chains, starting with her neck.
“I couldn’t leave you,” she said, choking back tears. The Tracker’s fir was dirty and there was blood on her arm.
When he unlocked the final chains, Mirra crumpled to the floor. She staggered to her feet, stumbling a bit until her legs adjusted to her weight again. He unlocked the cage door. Mirra looked at him and snarled.
Trinity stepped in front of Jackson. “He’s a friend, Mirra. I couldn’t have done this without him.”
“He Benedictine Guard. He shoot Mirra. Mirra stumble. Mirra sleep.”
She glared at him. It seemed she wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. He hadn’t told her that he was the one to actually drug and capture the Tracker. Still, she had to persuade Mirra that he was on their side, or he could be in trouble and that would be her fault. She really needed to get less involved. “He helped me escape Benedictine. He came here and helped you. He’s a friend.”