The Volunteer

by J B Cantwell

  Well, alright then.

  Chapter Five

  The truck roared to life as I made my way down the stairs, Alex’s huge frame hunched in the driver’s seat. I went around to the other side and grabbed the handle, the door sticking on its hinges.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” Alex said. “It was stupid.”

  I climbed inside, slamming the door behind me.

  “It wasn’t stupid. It was kind. Considering we took the guy hostage, it was the least we could do.”

  He shook his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “He could get us caught in enemy territory, for one thing.”

  “And how is he going to do that? He’s got no phone, no knife to cut himself free, and no way to escape. Not to mention, no lens. It’s not like he can send a message to anyone.”

  Alex blew out a huff of breath, clearly frustrated. “If we make that phone call, send them that intel, and it gets back to the base that we did it …”

  “Well, we’ll just need to be secretive about it. We can use his tablet. Wipe the prints clean and then hide it after we cross the border.”

  “That’s another thing. We’re never going to be able to cross the border in this thing.” He smacked his hand on the dash.

  “What? How do you know?”

  “There’s border patrol, you know. We’re going to have to ditch this truck before we get there and sneak our way in.”

  “Or we could ram our way through it, just hit the gas and go, go, go.”

  “Under fire, yes. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any body armor on.” He flicked his wetsuit with his fingers. “Somehow, I don’t think bullets will be stopped by this material.”

  “So what do you suggest?”

  “I think we should get within a few miles and then ditch the truck.” He turned onto the main road as he said this, which was, thankfully, deserted.

  I pulled up a map of the area on my lens, and then saw the awful truth.

  The only way across the border was either by boat or bridge. We wouldn’t have a choice, not unless we wanted to head way farther north. And that would be a day’s drive out in the open, exposed.

  “You should pull over and take a look at this,” I said.

  “What do you mean? We just started—”

  “Just do it,” I said. “There. We can hide for a few minutes in those trees.” I pointed to a small grove ahead.

  He ignored me.

  “Do I need to order you?” I asked.

  He sighed, exasperated, but pulled the truck over anyway.

  “Thank you, Soldier Williams.”

  “It’s Prime Williams.” His voice was laced with pride, which made me grit my teeth in irritation.

  Once we were off the road, and as well hidden as the trees would allow, he threw the truck into park.

  “What is it, boss?” he said.

  I ignored the tone.

  “Pull up a map on your lens,” I said.

  His eyes grew dazed as he looked it over. Then, his face fell.

  “So you see it, then,” I said.

  “Yeah, I see it.”

  “I say we go around. It’s risky, but we can get back into the country much more easily.”

  “Veto. This thing is almost out of gas. We’ll be lucky to make it another fifteen miles. Not to mention the fact that we don’t have any Canadian currency. And we’re in wetsuits.”

  Oh.

  I looked at the map again, this time focusing on Detroit and our entry options. Then, after calculating the distance, I voiced the new plan.

  “We swim.”

  He fell silent for several long moments. Then finally, “That’s just nuts.”

  “Got a better idea?”

  He stayed quiet.

  “It’s less than a mile across the Detroit River.”

  “It’s going to be crawling with guards.”

  “Yup, I know it. But if we hit it from the south, we might have a chance. It’s less populated just north of La Salle. Either that or we try to ram the gates driving on fumes.”

  “We’re gonna freeze.”

  “Yup. But we’ll live. Probably.”

  “We should’ve kept our gear,” he said, throwing the truck into drive and pulling out of the trees. “Fins would have come in handy.”

  “Just keep within the speed limit,” I said, “and head north.”

  It was only twenty miles, but we didn’t make it quite that far before we’d emptied the gas tank. I’d been right to insist that we swim. It was our best chance. And now, our only chance.

  We ditched the truck on the outskirts of a suburb and hopped out.

  While this seemed like our only option, it really was pretty stupid. Two Service soldiers moving through a Canadian neighborhood in nothing but wetsuits. It wasn’t likely we could make it through without calling attention to ourselves. And Alex. Huge, hulking Alex.

  There was nothing to be done about it.

  As we began the walk through the small town, I pulled down the messaging program on my lens and sent an S.O.S.

  “Stuck outside Detroit in enemy territory. Attempting to cross the Detroit River in twenty minutes. Send reinforcements.”

  A message came back almost immediately. It’s denial was swift and heart-wrenching.

  “Negative.”

  “Not even help so close to home,” I said, angered.

  “Are you surprised?” he asked.

  “I have Prime Turner with me,” I tried.

  There was a pause this time, and when a couple minutes had passed, we finally got word back.

  “Send coordinates once you are back on U.S. soil. Will send transport.”

  I huffed.

  We were on our own. Again. No surprise there, but it still made me angry.

  And there was literally nowhere for us to hide. We walked by house after house, right by people on the street, and nearly everybody stared.

  “We need to get some different clothes,” I whispered.

  “How?”

  In front of us, a sedan pulled out of a driveway. The driver, an older, heavyset man, looked at us sideways, pausing briefly in the driveway. A look of recognition flicked across his face, but ultimately he turned onto the road and drove away.

  “Here.” I scouted around, then casually made my way up the driveway until we were hidden in the backyard of the small house.

  I was breathing hard, though we hadn’t been moving fast. My heart was pounding, and my skin had broken out in a cold sweat.

  Alex didn’t hesitate. He climbed the back stairs and tried the door, which was locked. He raised his arm, clearly ready to break the small window.

  “Stop!” I hissed. “What if he’s got a security system?”

  He paused, looking down at me.

  “What do you suggest, then? We can’t keep walking in the streets like this. It’s going to attract too much attention. You know it will.”

  It already had.

  “At least try the windows first,” I said, pointing to the three windows that faced the backyard.

  He stepped off the small deck and made his way behind the house, pushing up on the window sills with each one he passed.

  No luck.

  I was starting to calm down now that we were hidden from the street, but the problem remained. I searched around and found several potted plants lined up along the other side of the deck. I lifted them up one by one, and nearly yelped with joy when one of them yielded a key.

  “Got it!” I flicked the small keychain into the air and caught it again. Then, I walked to the back door and slid the key into the lock. As the door opened, it creaked loudly, making me look around, as if someone were watching us right now.

  There might’ve been.

  But it was too late to do anything else. If we got caught, we got caught.

  I took a tentative step through the back door and stopped, listening. When I didn’t hear a sound, I moved farther inside, Alex following closely behind
me. I heard the door click shut as I walked from the mud room into the kitchen.

  It was then that I realized how hungry I was. We had been so exhausted the night before that food hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  But now I found myself in a well-stocked Canadian kitchen. I opened one of the cabinets and was greeted by a box of crackers and two sleeves of cookies, along with a variety of spices and flours.

  “What are you doing?” Alex asked, looking alarmed.

  “I’m starving,” I said, not taking my gaze away from the food as I opened the next cabinet.

  “We don’t have time for this,” he argued. “That guy could be back anytime. We need to get some clothes on and get out of here.”

  “Fine. You go look for some clothes upstairs, and I’ll pack up some food. Okay?”

  “Fine. But be on the lookout. That guy looked at us suspiciously when he pulled out. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were to call the police on us. He might’ve recognized me as a Prime, too.”

  I turned away and made my way back into the mud room where I had seen a couple of jackets and a small backpack hanging on hooks. I picked up the pack, which was empty but for a small water flask, and brought it back into the kitchen.

  Canadians had access to a variety of foods that were downright exotic to me. Even the poor people, like the Fighters I’d met in the backwoods of Ontario. But us back in the States, well, we were lucky to get a handful of nutritional squares each day.

  I stuffed one of the sleeves of cookies into the pack and opened the fridge.

  Jackpot.

  A half-eaten chicken sat wrapped on the top shelf. I put down the pack and took it out with two hands, placing it on the kitchen table. Then I went back for more, grabbing an armful of apples and, back on the table, a small bunch of bananas.

  Where did they even get this stuff? It was closing in on winter. I shrugged my shoulders. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was mine now.

  I put the fruit into the backpack and unwrapped the chicken, tearing off a big chunk of thigh meat and stuffing it into my mouth. I flung the pack over my shoulder and picked up the plate, walking from the kitchen, chewing greedily on the meat.

  Then I saw it.

  Sitting in a crouched position on the top edge of the sofa was a giant, furry cat. The orange fluff along its back rose up as I entered the room, and a low growl escaped its throat.

  “Uh,” I said to the animal, unsure. I had never seen a live cat before. “Don’t mind me.” I walked around the edge of the room and made my way up the stairs, hoping it wouldn’t follow me. This guy must have been well off to be able to afford keeping a pet. My mind went back to all that food in the kitchen. Things were different here, that was for sure.

  “Hey.” I whispered when I reached the landing. “Are you up here?”

  “I’m in here,” he called, keeping his voice quiet, too.

  I moved down the hall to the master bedroom. Alex stuck his head out of the door of a small walk-in closet.

  “I’m not sure about this,” he said.

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, there’s clothes for you, but none of this is going to fit me.” He held up a large t-shirt, but he was right; it didn’t look like it would even come close to wrapping around his huge frame.

  My heart started to pound again.

  “Try it on,” I insisted, putting the plate I was carrying down on the bed. “Roll down the top of your wetsuit and see if you can stretch the shirt over your head. You never know.”

  He looked at me, raising his eyebrows, but a moment later he zipped down his suit and released his arms from the thick rubber sleeves. His chest stuck out like a massive beacon.

  Monster, it said.

  He stuck his head through the neck of the shirt and struggled to put his arms through the holes. I thought he just might have it, but as soon as he pulled it down over his shoulders, I heard a distinct ripping sound from the fabric. He turned around, revealing that the entire back side of the shirt had torn apart.

  “Okay,” I said, more to myself than to him. “We just need to keep looking. There has to be something in there. A jacket. Anything.”

  “You honestly think a jacket will fit me when a stretchy t-shirt won’t?”

  “I don’t know, Alex,” I said, frustrated. “We need to keep looking. We can’t stay here all day. We don’t know when the owner of this place will be back. We need to get moving again.”

  I walked into the closet and began rummaging around. The man must have lived alone, as there were only men’s clothes arranged on the hangers. I grabbed a sweatshirt and pulled it over my head. Then, I found a pair of too-big jeans and buttoned them up over my wetsuit.

  “We should keep our suits on,” I said, “even if we find clothes that fit you. We’ll be in the cold water soon enough.”

  “We hope.”

  I sighed.

  As I continued to dig through the closet, I found another sweatshirt, this one extra-extra-large. I held it up in front of Alex. He looked down at me skeptically.

  Well, it was worth a shot.

  This time, though, the fabric didn’t rip. It fit him tightly, almost comically so, his muscles bulging beneath it. But it covered him up well enough.

  “Here,” I said, walking around behind him. I tied the two arms of the wetsuit behind his back and stuffed them up into the backside of the sweatshirt, hoping to hide them a bit better. I stood back and looked at him. “Well,” I said. “It could be worse. We should get moving.”

  I made for the door, but Alex stopped me, one hand on my shoulder.

  “You should go without me,” he said, his voice suddenly quiet. “I’m like a walking target. You go ahead and I’ll hide and start out when night falls.”

  I glared at him, frustrated. This again.

  “Look at me.” He looked down at his attire and then back up at me. “This is ridiculous. I look nuts. I’m only going to call more attention to us.”

  “Then I’ll stay, too. We can hide out back and then make a run for it after dark. It’s probably better that way, anyway. We’re a lot less likely to be seen in the water at night. Almost impossible to see, actually.”

  “No. You have to go. It’s not safe—”

  “Look, I appreciate that you’re trying to be all chivalrous here, but I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Ugh. Riley!”

  “Ugh, yourself.”

  “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

  “Why do you? Now, let’s make a plan. I think you’re right. We should hide out back. I’ll put the chicken away and some of the cookies. But we’ll need to be careful if we’re going to stick around here. If he comes back later and sees that all his food is gone, we’re done for.”

  I turned and made my way out into the hall. But this time when Alex put his hand on my shoulder, he gently turned me toward him and put his other hand up to my face.

  “I can’t do this,” he said. “You should go on without me. You have to survive.” His thumb moved gently across my cheek. It made my breath catch.

  “I will. We both will.”

  He shook his head, doubtful.

  I stood up on my tip toes and reached up to kiss him. It took him a moment to give in, but when he did, the kiss was long and slow, and I felt the strange sensation of melting throughout my body.

  I wasn’t leaving him anywhere.

  A loud thunk came from somewhere outside, and our moment was immediately over. Alex moved toward the back window and swore under his breath.

  “He’s back,” he whispered. “Already.” He leaned back against the wall, watching the man approach the house from outside.

  “We have to go,” I said as loudly as I dared. I picked up the plate of chicken and looked around for a place to hide it. It wouldn’t do to leave it here in the man’s room. If he were to pay any attention to the food taken in his kitchen, our troubles could multiply, and fast.

  “Go how?” Alex asked, his voice a whisper.<
br />
  I grabbed his arm. “Just come on.”

  I led the way across the hall, suddenly all too aware of the wood slats creaking beneath our feet. There was a second bedroom across the hall. A medium sized bed dressed in a frilly quilt stood against one wall. But despite the decoration, there didn’t seem to be much life in the place. I guessed it was a guest room.

  If we were lucky.

  My eyes darted around, searching for a place to hide. Under the bed might’ve worked for me, but Alex would never fit. I quietly opened the closet door and was relieved to find it mostly empty. It looked like no one had been in this room for a long time.

  “Get in,” I commanded.

  “Wait. No,” he whispered.

  “Do it.”

  He relented and stuffed his hulking frame into the small space. I went in after him, and just as I closed the door as quietly as I could, I heard the downstairs door slam on its hinges.

  We were no longer alone.

  Chapter Six

  Muffled noises from downstairs made their way up the stairs. A refrigerator door. A cabinet slamming shut. I stared down at the chicken in my hands in the dim light of the closet. Surely, he would know. Someone had been in his house, stolen his food.

  I heard mumbling coming from the staircase. He was talking to the cat, I reasoned. Maybe we would be okay.

  But when he made the landing, he came right into our room, not his.

  “You may as well come out of there,” he said, clearly talking to us. “I’m not armed, but I have my finger on the emergency call button, so don’t think about pulling anything.”

  Alex and I glanced at each other. He held his pistol at his side, and slowly I opened the closet door a crack.

  The man was older, but not ancient. I guessed he was sixty, sixty-five.

  “Put down the gun,” he said quietly as I peeked at him through the opening. He held up his phone and showed me his thumb, just an inch from the call button.

  I could feel Alex’s breath, shallow and quiet on my neck. I looked back at him, nodding in warning. But when I looked back through the crack, the man was right outside our door. He thrust it open, exposing both of us.