by Lauren Bach
"There. It's not poisonous," Adam assured. "And it's as scared as you are."
"He doesn't look scared."
Her choice of pronoun amused Adam. "Look at his head, then, and—"
"I hate snakes. Especially their heads." Shuddering, she buried her face in his neck as she drew her legs onto his lap. "Get rid of him."
That she had Adam virtually pinned in place didn't seem to register. He hugged her close, surprised by his own reluctance to let her go. But to get rid of the snake he had to stand.
"You'll be safe right here." He tucked her behind him and moved toward the snake, which had slithered to the opposite wall.
Cornering it, he forced the snake to retreat the same way it had entered: the gap beneath the door. When the snake's tail disappeared, he placed a rock in front of the door in hopes of discouraging its return.
He moved back to where Renata stood, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. But before he could say anything, thunder burst, this time with a fierce show of lightning.
Lyle moaned, drawing their attention. He shoved away the blanket, his frame wracked with tremors. "Water," he rasped.
Renata saw the saturated bandages and scrambled to his side. "He's bleeding again. Get the supplies."
Adam watched as she took his temperature. "Fever?"
"One-oh-three-point-one. Something's cooking." She pulled away the bandages. "He's not responding to the antibiotic I've been administering, which isn't too shocking, given the circumstances."
Lyle roused. "Just... gimme a shot of penicillin."
"What I've been giving you is penicillin." She looked at Adam. "I need better light."
He grabbed the lantern and moved it closer. She frowned not liking what she saw. "Infection is setting in. If I don't irrigate the wound and keep it clean, pretty soon it will become necrotic and I'll have to debride it."
Lyle coughed wincing in pain. "De-what?"
"Debride; scrape away the dead tissue to help it heal."
"Shit. Hit it with alcohol and stick a bandage on it. It'll be fine."
"Until your leg falls off from gangrene," she began.
"If you're going to tell me to go to the hospital— don't." Lyle closed his eyes, seemed to almost pass out.
"She's right," Adam said. "You won't get better under these conditions."
"Where's the phone?" Lyle dialed a number and waited. "Fucking answering machines." He paused before leaving a message. "Hey, asshole! I'm dying thanks to this pigsty we're staying in. Call me."
The phone slid out of his hand. Adam caught it before it landed in the mud.
"He better call back soon," Lyle muttered.
Outside the storm hit its peak. The wind raged buffeting the walls. Adam worried that the shed would collapse. They had to leave. He picked up the phone to make his own call just as it rang.
He answered with a curt, "Hello."
The caller breathed into the phone, but said nothing. Adam's temper flared. "Damn it, this is no time to play games."
Lyle roused. "Is it Nevin?"
A gruff voice came across the phone. "That my boy?"
Adam gripped the phone tightly. It wasn't Nevin. It was Willy McEdwin.
"Yeah, that's your boy. But he's not doing too well."
Willy swore. "Thought you had a doctor. Can't she fix him?"
"Not when he's sleeping in the dirt." Adam described their location. "The barn we stayed in yesterday was better than this. And I don't even have wheels to get him anywhere."
"Those goddamned idiots! Nevin set this up, didn't he? No matter. I'll get it straightened out. Then you can bring me my son."
"Good because I'm tired of playing nursemaid. I'd have been better off alone."
"Don't blow a gasket," Willy said. "I know you haven't been treated right, but I aim to fix all that. But first let me talk to that doctor."
Reluctantly, Adam passed the phone to Renata. "Take it."
Confused she pressed the phone to her ear. "This is Dr. Curtis."
"And this is Lyle's father. Don't mince words. How's he's doing?"
"Terrible. He's running a fever and needs stronger antibiotics than I've got. Perhaps you can convince him to go to the closest emergency room."
"That's not an option. They'll pack him off to the nearest prison ward and I know what kind of medical care he'll get there."
"You don't understand," she began again. "Anything short of going to a hospital could ultimately mean a death sentence."
"Yeah. Yours. You better make damn certain he survives."
The man's threat was clear: if Lyle died so did she. She glanced at Adam. Did his promise to keep her safe include protecting her from Lyle's father? She doubted it. After finding his hand up her shirt, she doubted all of Adam's intentions.
Two things were clear: She didn't want to die. And as much as she despised Lyle, she didn't want to see him dead either. Her job was to save lives. All lives.
"Just tell me what you need medicine-wise," Willy continued. "And I'll get it."
"The drugs I need are controlled substances."
"Not a problem. I can get anything."
His cavalier attitude maddened her. Still she rattled off supplies and spelled the names of several stronger antibiotics. "I may need to try more than one before he responds."
Willy repeated the list. "If that's it, let me talk to my son."
She knelt beside Lyle and pressed the phone to his ear. "It's your father."
"Pa!" Lyle groped for the phone, a near smile hovering on his face. It faded as he grew quiet, listening.
Then his face reddened. "How was I supposed to know that? Nevin should have told me."
Adam moved closer, not caring if anyone knew he eavesdropped. He heard nothing as Lyle abruptly ended the call, then flipped his middle finger at the phone.
"Problems?" Adam asked.
"Timing." Lyle took a deep breath, clearly agitated. "He said I've complicated things."
"What things?"
"His almighty plan." Lyle tried to lift his head. "He's ... he's pissed because the FBI has agents crawling out of the goddamned woodwork looking for us. Guess they're causing headaches for him. Like I can control what the FBI does!"
Adam could guess Willy's almighty plan: to blow something up. The question was what. And how much did Lyle know about it? Up till now the kid had maintained a poker face when it came to Willy. He'd fooled them all with his laments of missing his family. Hell, he'd even withstood the guards' abuse without talking.
But Adam knew if he pressured Lyle in front of Renata, he'd clam up. Better to let the subject drop. For now. "We'll discuss it later. I'll get you some food."
Lyle shook his head. "I'm not hungry. I need water though." He fumbled beneath the blanket and withdrew the bottle of painkillers.
Adam discreetly counted how many tablets the kid took. There were unwritten rules about a prisoner's drug usage. First and foremost, you never questioned anyone's habit. The choice to abuse drugs was considered as sacred as the choice not to.
When the phone rang again, Renata jumped.
Adam answered. "Yeah?"
It was Willy. "There's a vehicle heading to you as we speak. You don't even have to drive this time."
Adam glanced at Renata. "Not so fast. Where are we going?"
"To a better place. Trust me. It has everything you could possibly need including medical supplies. You'll be safe there for a couple days. Until the heat dies down."
"So it's temporary?"
"Yep, but I'm working on a permanent fix. Be patient. We'll talk tomorrow."
The phone went dead just as a vehicle pulled up outside.
Placing himself between Renata and the door, Adam drew his gun and peered out the window.
"Tell me it ain't the cops," Lyle hissed.
"It's not."
Parked outside was an ancient Winnebago. How the motor home made it up the muddy drive without getting stuck baffled Adam. Until he saw the heavy-duty suspension,
the oversized tires. Someone had outfitted the Winnie with four-wheel drive.
The driver, a burly man dressed in paint-spattered work pants and a faded T-shirt, swung out of the motor home and into the pouring rain. He dashed toward the cabin and yanked open the door. Once inside, he shook himself like a big hairy dog.
In his mid-sixties, the man had a weather-beaten exterior that hinted at years of farming. The lackluster glint in his eyes spoke of mistrust, suspicion. And a latent hostility. Adam wondered which antigovernment group this man belonged to. There were at least a dozen he could serve as poster child for.
The man eyed his gun. "You can put that away. Willy sent me. I'm Calvin. Where's the boy?"
From behind them, Lyle grunted. "Who you calling 'boy,'old man?"
Calvin peered around Adam. "Shit, son. You do look bad."
"Nice to see you, too, Calvin." Lyle raised his hand, then quickly dropped it, groaning.
Calvin turned, pinning Renata with an icy glare. "Judging by the way your patient looks, you must not be much of a doctor. Hell, my vet treats animals better than this."
"Then by all means, take him to your vet. See if—"
Adam grasped her arm and shook her, cutting her words off. "She's done the best with what she's had to work with. But staying in rat holes like this will kill anybody."
Calvin looked around as if noticing their accommodations for the first time. He knelt beside Lyle. "If your daddy had known you were this bad off, he'd have called me before now."
"This bad off? I was shot, damn it!" Lyle shook his head. "Don't tell me: He thought I was crying wolf, right?"
"Now, now, you know how your pa is." Calvin launched into a lecture on Willy McEdwin's virtues.
Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Calvin plainly idolized Willy McEdwin. One of the reasons he'd been so hard to catch was the scores of men like Calvin who'd do favors like this at a moment's notice and feel honored to be called. To be trusted. Men who could keep secrets while privately thumbing their noses at the federal government.
He listened, hoping to discern Calvin's connection to the McEdwins. It was clear he was a close family friend someone Willy could trust to give him an honest assessment of Lyle's condition.
"I got dry clothes in the RV' Calvin helped Lyle to his feet.”Let's get you out of here."
"Hold up. I want to know where we're headed," Adam said.
"Reckon you'll find out soon enough," Calvin replied.
"Now. Or I split. With the doctor."
"Go ahead and tell him," Lyle interrupted. "We're in this together. I'd be dead if it weren't for him. Make sure my pa gets that message, too."
Calvin sighed. "I'm taking you across the state line. To Kentucky. I understand the place you'll be staying is right decent. And it's out-of-the-way. Quiet. But I suggest we get going. Cops are all over the place."
The inside of the Winnebago, while tidy, looked as prehistoric as the outside. Decades of cigarette smoke permeated the walls. One of the couch cushions was completely covered in dull gray duct tape, a worn remote control tucked in a TV Guide beside it. A skillet, a fork, and a plate had been left to dry in a small rack in the sink, making Adam wonder if the man lived in the motor home.
Lyle let Calvin help him change clothes, but refused to stretch out in the rear of the trailer, opting instead to recline in the captain's chair on the passenger side. Both men lit up cigarettes, though Lyle started coughing so hard he tossed his out the window.
"There's more clothes in the overhead," Calvin called over his shoulder to Adam. "You and the woman can change back there, too."
Adam opened the cabinet and found a shirt and pair of jeans that looked small enough for Renata. He dug out a flannel shirt for himself.
"Is it okay if she uses the bathroom?" he asked. At Calvin's nod, Adam quickly checked the small compartment for potential weapons, finding only soap and toilet paper.
"I'd prefer to stay in my own clothes," she whispered when he moved to let her pass.
"They're soaked."
"But—"
He reached for the buttons of her blouse. "I'll help."
She smacked his hands away. "You've done enough."
While she changed, Adam listened to Calvin fill Lyle in on the news reports of their escape.
"First they had you in Georgia. Then you showed up in Pennsylvania. Now they think you're headed north. Get this: the FBI scared some old lady half to death in New Jersey when her license tag was given out on an APB. You got the cops so rattled they don't know which way's up."
When Renata stepped out of the bathroom she clutched her wet clothes in her hands. Adam noticed she'd put her soggy sneakers back on, which would keep her feet cold. He eyed the matted carpet, unable to discern its original color. He didn't blame her for not wanting to be barefoot.
Once again he found himself wanting to touch her— offer physical comfort. He couldn't. She sat beside him at the table in the kitchen galley. Adam made no attempt to restrain her. With Calvin driving, there was no need.
When Lyle fell asleep, Calvin grabbed an eight- track tape and jammed it in the player, turning the volume up. The bluegrass harmonies sounded tinny.
"What happens next?" Renata asked softly.
"Getting Lyle stabilized is our first priority."
Adam wasn't sure beyond that. He needed to formulate a plan and coordinate with Ethan and Stan. Now that he'd made contact with Willy, Adam felt certain they'd unite soon. Which meant he needed to arrange to drop off Renata. The sooner she was out of the picture, the better he'd feel.
They drove most of the night, once again staying on back roads, winding through the countryside. Adam noticed Calvin doubled back frequently, pulling off here and there to check for a tail, weaving a convoluted trail that would be impossible to follow. He wondered how Ethan's men were keeping up, or if they were simply tracking them electronically.
Calvin remained uncommunicative until they reached their destination. "This is it."
Adam peered out the window. "You sure?"
Illuminated in the headlights was a spacious log cabin. A very expensive log cabin, he amended as he took in the soaring roofline.
"Guess it's quite an improvement over your last place," Calvin said.
"Our last two places."
Calvin carried Lyle inside, taking him directly into one of the bedrooms. While the older man settled Lyle, Adam tugged Renata into the living room and turned on a lamp. Tight-fitting blinds sealed the windows from prying eyes.
He looked around, missing nothing. The place had the impersonal air of a vacation rental. Or it had been sanitized. No pictures, no personal touches. There were two bedrooms, the large living room, plus a kitchen and bathrooms. Cardboard boxes covered the kitchen table.
Calvin joined them. "The supplies you asked for should be here. And more. I'll be taking off, but Lyle knows how to reach me if he needs anything else." Theblatant emphasis on he left no doubt where the old man's allegiance rested.
Adam locked the door behind Calvin, then steered her toward the kitchen. He pointed out two cardboard boxes marked MEDICINE. "See if everything you need is here. I'll see if there's anything to eat besides crackers."
She looked in the first box, saw it held a range of generic supplies: Bandages. Gauze. Latex gloves. Splints. Ointments. Aspirin. Ibuprofen. Two cases of saline sat on the table, too.
While Adam had his back to her, Renata furtively checked out her surroundings. According to the digital clock on the microwave it was only 10 p.m. Usually they arrived at dawn. Their pattern of traveling at night, hiding during the day had scrambled her sense of time and direction.
She had heard Calvin say they were headed to Kentucky, knew they had to be in the eastern part of the state since they were in the mountains. She'd also heard the men discuss staying here for a couple days. Remaining in one spot could increase her chances for escape.
She studied the rear door, noting it had a deadbolt lock, the key missing. The curtai
ns were drawn tightly at the single window over the sink.
She turned back to the table. Flipping the lid off the second box, she found it held the medicine she'd requested. She checked labels, examined the expiration dates. The antibiotics were the exact suspensions she'd requested. But there were also vials of morphine, along with a box of disposable syringes and another bottle of tablet painkillers. These narcotics shouldn't have been easy to come by. Judging by the packaging, the supplies had been stolen from a hospital.
"I hope some patients aren't suffering because all these supplies are missing."
Adam did a cursory check of the box. "Is there anything there that can't be readily replaced? Anything a hospital would only have one of?"
She shook her head. "That doesn't make it right."
"Granted. Just remember: You didn't steal it or cause it to be taken. So don't feel guilty for using it."
Adam had already gone through the remaining boxes. There were clothes, towels and toiletries, plus canned goods and soda.
He saw her eye the two boxes of ammunition that sat on the counter beside a fresh loaf of bread.
"Do you anticipate a need for all that?" she asked.
He grabbed the ammo, stuck it in a cabinet beyond her reach. He'd move them again later, when she wasn't watching. "I hope not."
"I wonder how many innocent people I could save by getting rid of those?"
Not enough, he thought. "Don't even think about it."
He picked up the bread. "Grab the lunchmeat and cheese from the refrigerator. I'm heating a couple cans of stew before we take care of Lyle. I'm sure a little decent food will help the kid."
A knock sounded at the front door. A bold rapping.
That fast Adam clamped a hand over her mouth. He forced her into the living room as the knocking repeated. Had Calvin returned for some reason?
Moving to the door, Adam lowered his voice, disguising it. "Who's there?"
"Nevin."
Nevin McEdwin. Dropping his hand to Renata's waist, keeping her close, Adam opened the door. "Got any ID?"
The other man grinned. "My baby brother will vouch for me. Where is he?"
"In the bedroom." Adam backed up, allowing Nevin to enter. "He's not doing real swift."