by K Alexander
The man in black does not wait for them to leave, but gives his commands regardless. When he is sure that all avenues are covered he nods with satisfaction.
"All right. Suit up."
The men slip back into the van. When they appear again they have SC-20K rifles slung onto their backs, and their faces are streaked densely in olive and black. The man in black casts a rapid glance over them and then nods again.
"Remember - she's not a civilian. Our main objective is to bring her in alive, but if she makes it impossible, we attempt to neutralize the threat. It is in our best interests to retrieve the hostage unharmed, but she is not our target." His gaze is impassive. "If she causes complications, eliminate her."
When the men all nod he reaches down to his belt and unclips a small device, which at first glance appears to be an iPod. Pressing a small button at the uppermost left corner he watches in satisfaction as the small screen comes to live. The men wait impassively as he scrolls through the system. When he glances up they straighten up and wait for instructions.
"North."
They turn on their heels and slip into the forest as quietly as he would expect them to. Shooting another glance at the device he slots it back into the space at his belt and pulls out his mobile phone.
------
The four men move silently as invisibly through the forest, stopping occasionally to glance at the chunky black watches strapped to their wrists, or to study the marks in the undergrowth. They are on foot for approximately forty minutes before they catch sight of the A-frame house between the trees. The closest man raises a fist sharply and the others slow down immediately, on guard and alert. They approach the house carefully, tracking the signs that lead towards the shed. Where they disappear around the side to the door the four men stop in the shadows. One of them executes a flurry of gestures and the other all nod before they split into two groups.
Greg McMahon is guiding the lathe firmly over a beautiful piece of wood when a black-sheathed forearm slips around his throat and pulls him back from the equipment. A small stocky man in back with camouflage smeared across his face appears in Greg's field of vision and switches off the loud apparatus. Greg would normally consider himself a brave man, but at this point his body feels alarmingly cold. The small man approaches him, and the weapon strapped to his back seems to loom in Greg's view.
"Are you alone?"
"No. No." Greg gasps the word. "Please - don't hurt me. My wife… my baby…"
"We are not going to hurt you, sir." The small man nods past his left shoulder and the forearm around his neck disappears. "Where are your wife and baby?"
"Inside." Lifting his hand to his throat uncertainly Greg turns to keep the man behind him in his sight. "They're inside. What's … "
The small man interrupts him politely. "We need to know if you've seen anything out of place today."
"Out of place?" Glancing from one man to the other Greg blinks rapidly. "Like what? Oh God. Is my wife in danger?" He moves towards the door but the large man behind him moves to stand in front of it.
"Sir, have you seen anything out of the ordinary today?"
"I don't… I don't know what you mean! Are they okay? Are they all right?" He tries to sidestep the man at the door, who meets him inscrutably at every step. The small man moves closer.
"Calm down, sir. There's no problem. Please stay here with Rico. I'll be back in a minute." He nods at the big man, who steps aside to let him pass. When Greg attempts to walk with him, Rico shakes his head.
"Please keep calm, sir. We are dealing with the situation."
"Situation? What situation? Oh my god…"
The smaller man strides towards the back door, where his associates are studying the door silently. At his arrival they part, and he instantly spots the damaged lock. He nods to the men, who draw their weapons noiselessly and step up against the walls, flanking the door. When he kicks it open the sound of a woman's scream greets them.
They slink around her as she stands trembling in the middle of the room, her whimpering baby pressed tightly against her chest, securing all the rooms before they return. She is frozen to the spot. One of the men notices the phone against the wall and lifts the handset, pulling the long cord as he approaches her and holds it out.
"Phone the local police. You've had a break-in."
The small man retrieves Greg from the garage and leads him into the house, where he immediately wraps his arms around his petrified wife and glares at them balefully.
"What exactly do you want?"
"We're looking for someone."
"Who? Someone dangerous?"
"You're safe. You're alone. Take the phone from your wife and phone the police."
"Why? Who… "
"You've had a break-in." The small man points towards the door. "Report it." All four men slip their weapons back into their holsters and turn to go. At the door Rico turns back.
"Sorry to have alarmed you folks."
They close the door behind them, and by the time Greg dials 911 with trembling fingers they're already deep into the forest.
Crouched in thicket one of the men grins, his teeth white in the darkness of his camouflaged face.
"She's trying to delay us. The woman's got balls."
------
According to the sign the next town, Choteau, is 9 miles away. Ryan glances at the rearview mirror, and when Claire shifts and tries to adjust the bonds around her wrists to prevent the inevitable onset of pins and needles, the sunglasses turn her way momentarily before the woman glances back at the road. Clenching and unclenching her hands Claire bites her lip.
"Ryan, can you please loosen these?"
There is no response.
"Please. My hands are numb. I can't get out anyway."
Smoothly the woman steers the Trailblazer to the side of the road and turns to her captive. When she turns Claire is already offering her hands. With nimble fingers Ryan slips the belt from her wrists before she glances over her shoulder and pulls away from the curb again.
Rubbing one chafed wrist with the other hand Claire stares out at the dense foliage rushing past the vehicle.
"What are you going to do with me?"
Predictably the woman offers no answer. Biting the inside of her lip Claire repeats the question once, and then again. An irritated scowl appears on Ryan's forehead.
"Don't talk to me."
"Why not? What are you going to do with me?" Claire almost smirks. The muscles in Ryan's jaw twitch. Reaching out the doctor picks up the apple, which she has previously discarded in the alcove between the seats, and polishes it against her shirt before she takes a bite. When she has finished chewing loudly she shifts in her seat and looks at the soldier's face.
"Isn't Fairwater a voluntary commitment institution?"
Frowning, Ryan glances sideways at Claire, attempting to gauge her implication. After a moment she turns her eyes back to the road.
"Yes."
The doctor takes another bite of her apple before she speaks again. "Then why the commotion, Ryan? Why not just sign yourself out?"
"Oh." The soldier's tone is dry. "Gosh. Now why didn't I think of that?"
Claire almost laughs, and then recalls her situation. "Why didn't you?"
Ryan glances up at the rearview mirror in a motion that seems more habit than necessity. She is silent for a moment before she speaks. "I tried, doctor. Didn't your files tell you that?"
Claire shakes her head. "No. When was this?"
"2002."
"And what happened?"
The soldier shoots a quick glance at her, almost as if she is debating whether to continue the conversation. When she speaks next her throaty voice is matter-of-fact. "I put in a request for release, which was denied. The next request was denied. The one after that was ignored."
"That can't be right." Claire sits up and frowns. "Who had you committed? Couldn't you contact somebody?"
"I'm not allowed visits. Or phone calls." The sunglasses
are a blank shield. "Or rather, I wasn't."
Claire is frowning, fascinated. "Why not?"
"Because I'm a danger to society, doctor Walsch." The woman reaches for her energy drink and drains the last from the bottle.
Shifting, Claire attempts to catch her eye. "Are you, Ryan?"
The soldier glances at her. "Yes, Walsch. I am."
Claire would have liked a protestation of innocence. It would have been easier to cope with - somebody who, at the least, believes in her own mind. The indifferent plain answer chills the blood in her veins. She is in a car on her way to an undisclosed destination with a trained soldier who believes herself highly dangerous.
"Did the Army have you committed?"
"No. I did."
"Why?"
Though Claire's voice is level and interested Ryan shoots a puzzled glance at her to see if she is being mocking. The blue eyes that greet her are free of irony. The soldier frowns. "Why? Because I am channeling the voice of god, doctor. Because I am dangerous." Her eyebrows rise. "Were you not aware of this?"
Claire sits forward, her gaze intense. "You've just released yourself back into society, captain Ryan. How sure are you that you've changed?"
The tall woman's jaw clenches tightly and her fingers grip the steering wheel mercilessly. For a long time there is silence. They approach the outskirts of Choteau. Without turning her head she speaks.
"Have you got any money on you?"
"No. My purse is back at Fairwater."
Removing one hand from the steering wheel Ryan slips it into the pockets of the thick black jacket she is wearing. From the right-hand side pocket she pulls two notes, which she studies quickly before she stuffs them back in her pocket. The ashtray yields a few more coins. At the first gas station on Maine Avenue she pulls over smoothly and slowly, studying the area before she pulls into the parking lot in front of the small dingy shop. Opening the door she climbs out and takes off the jacket. The black t-shirt is tight across her shoulders and chest. Tossing the jacket in the back seat she wraps one arm over the top of the open door, and the other over the headrest of her seat, as she leans closer to Claire.
"I haven't changed at all, doctor. Not a bit. I am going into the bathroom to fill up this bottle with water. If you get out and run I will find you. If you involve anybody else they will get hurt. Do you understand me?" The blonde nods silently, her heart leaping in her throat. Reaching forward Ryan grasps the bottle. "If you stay still and behave the way I want you to, nothing will happen."
Straightening up she closes the door and locks it from the outside, slipping the keys into her pocket. The car door can be opened from inside, but the delay will count in her favor, should it need to. At the bathroom door she stops and turns to stare at the blonde woman, whose eyes are fixed to her unwaveringly.
The bathroom is dirty and smells of urinal cake. Her shoe soles make a sticky sound as she lifts them from the floor. Setting her jaw in disgust she opens the tap and cups water in her hand, smelling it suspiciously before she fills up her empty bottle. She screws the cap back on and is on her way out when abruptly she clamps shut her eyes and grasps blindly, wrapping her bandaged right hand convulsively around the top of the cubicle as her legs threaten to buckle under her.
Claire sits waiting in apprehensive edginess. She has imagined that Ryan will only take a moment, and now the time is ticking by. Her mind keeps whispering, unhelpfully, that if she had left when the soldier entered the bathroom, she would have been long gone. Hovering between her knowledge of what the woman would do if she were to leave and her beliefs of what she would do if Claire were to stay, she calms herself with deep breaths before she clambers over the handbrake and opens the driver's door from the inside. Glancing nervously at the bathroom she turns and begins to walk, as fast as possible, towards the small shop. She can see the spotty young man inside, but he has his back to her and is talking animatedly on his mobile phone, and just as she thinks she may make it after all a hand wraps itself strongly around her upper arm and yanks her back, into the lean hard body behind her. A sob pushes from her throat instinctively. The hand around her arm is merciless.
"You're hurting me," she pleads, but the woman does not ease up.
"Did you not understand what I told you?" The words are a hiss and the hand shakes her lightly. "Do you want to get hurt?"
"No." She is sobbing now.
Marching her back to the Trailblazer Ryan opens the gas cap and slots in the pump, watching the numbers carefully until she is finished. When she has replaced the cap she releases Claire's arm and takes the woman's right hand in her left. "I have to go in and pay. Behave. He's nothing more than a child - you wouldn't want anything to happen to him, would you?"
When Claire nods quickly she leads the way into the shop. The bell above the door dings and the teenager turns to study them as they walk in. The soldier in her apparently trendy oversized jeans does not interest him, but he takes another glance at the pretty blonde in the suit and trainers before he resumes his conversation, turning his back once again. Strolling between the isles Ryan pulls Claire along, studying the shelves.
"Do you want something to eat?"
The doctor does not answer. Quiet for a moment, Ryan takes a packet of beef jerky and a small plastic mint dispenser, stuffing them unceremoniously in her pocket before she noisily opens the fridge and takes a bottle of water and a carbonated caffeine drink. They approach the till but the boy is still talking away. When Ryan slams the bottles on the counter top he jerks and turns to them, a scowl on his face as he speaks to whomever is on the other side of the line.
Pointing to the drinks and then to the gas, Ryan takes out the two notes and tosses them on the counter. He shoots her a particularly filthy look before he stuffs the notes into the till, tossing her change on the wooden countertop carelessly.
"… yeah, sure, but Rachel went, like, to this guy… "
His story suddenly slows down as he spots the bandage on Ryan's hand, now specked with blood and filthy from the grimy surface of the cubicle, as she twists her fingers around the bottles' narrow necks. Waving them at him casually she presses her fingers into Claire's hand and strolls from the shop. When she opens the passenger door and propels the blonde in he is still talking on his phone, but he has turned to them and is watching with some fascination. Ryan slips into the driver's seat and takes off the sunglasses. It is late afternoon and the shadows are beginning to lengthen. Setting the carbonated drink in the cup holder she tosses the bottled water onto Claire's lap and then pulls the jerky and mints out of her pocket, dropping them into the alcove beneath the radio. When they pull away Claire stares back at the brightly lit station longingly. Ryan cracks open the top of her drink and sips at it slowly.
"Drink your water."
Claire does not respond. Shaking her head Ryan replaces the soda and lifts the jerky packet to her mouth, tearing it open with her teeth. Slipping out a piece she offers the pack to Claire's back.
"Jerky?"
Still no reaction. Replacing the packet she bites meditatively on the hard meat, trying not to touch too much of it with the grubby bandage. Once it is firmly in her mouth she clamps down on it like a cigar and begins to press buttons on the radio at random. When a country music station begins to blare suddenly Claire starts. Frowning, Ryan prods the bright blue buttons until the station changes to soft rock on 93.7FM.
In the fading light Claire turns around and examines Ryan quietly. The woman is chewing her jerky musingly, but when she feels the eyes on her she turns her head and meets them.
"What is it?"
The blonde drops her eyes to Ryan's right hand. "Did you hurt somebody in the bathroom?"
Flexing the hand in question Ryan shakes her head. "No."
"Oh." Claire's eyes move back to her face. "What happened?"
"Nothing." The soldier's face is inscrutable beneath the cap.
Reaching for the cubbyhole Claire takes out the first-aid kit and zips it open. "Can I re-
bandage that for you?"
With a dubious look in her eyes Ryan glances at the blonde. "You are aware that there's nothing left in there you can use on me."
"No motive, Ryan. It looks filthy."
"It's too dark now."
"Switch on the light."
The soldier steals another glance at the woman in the seat next to her before she reaches up and switches on the overhead light, illuminating them abruptly.
"Walsch, if you try anything… "
"I remember." Claire beckons. "Give me your hand." When Ryan extends her right hand she begins to unwind the bandage dexterously, grimacing at the mucky texture beneath her fingers. Dropping the old bandage in the back she dabs some antiseptic on the grazes before she neatly wraps a new bandage around the hand and wrist, unwinding it until it's finished for lack of scissors. When she has tucked the end in neatly Ryan pulls back her hand and studies the product without comment before she reaches up and switches off the light.