by L. N. Carson
“They’re code names. Montu is the name of the ancient Egyptian god of war, and Hathor was the goddess of love, beauty, motherhood, and joy. A protector of women.”
“She doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Don’t let the name fool you. Montu is the brawn, but Hathor is definitely the brains of Amun-Ra’s security force. If anyone can find us, it’ll be her.”
“And Amun-Ra is the big boss?”
“Yeah.” She noted a touch of dread in Sam’s response.
“What’s your codename?”
“Atum…supposedly the first god of ancient Egypt.”
Kathleen was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Give me a codename.”
“Why?”
“Because I want one.”
He chuckled.
“What?” she demanded.
“Well, I could call you Nut.”
Her mouth tightened. “I meant a goddess name.” She blew out a breath. “Forget it. It was stupid.” Glancing up, she fiddled with the rearview mirror.
“Nut is a goddess name,” Sam insisted. “She was the goddess of the sky and stars.”
“You’re making that up.”
“I’m not.” Sam nearly choked to keep from laughing. “But it’s obvious you don’t like that one. How about Ma’at, the goddess of truth and justice?”
“Like I said, forget it,” she said quietly. “It was stupid. Very stupid.”
* * *
Kathleen cursed herself for being so silly. Her GPS had led her off the mountain road and onto a four-lane route leading to the highway. The different course to the mountain meant a longer drive than she’d expected. Not that increased drive time was a problem—she enjoyed driving.
However, she was used to being alone and preferred it that way. With other people, she tended to go off-script, talk too much, spout nonsense. Say the wrong things.
Sam was right. She was a nut, and not the goddess of the moon and stars, or whatever he’d said. Her mother thought she should be locked away. But then to be given a codename that belonged to the goddess of justice? That was just a cruel joke.
As the broken yellow lines on the pavement disappeared beneath her car, Kathleen’s mind hurtled back to the morning of March twenty-third, twelve years ago.
She was sitting on her bed when the commotion erupted: Dad yelling, Mom screaming, something breaking—either porcelain or glass. She wrapped her arms around herself, providing a poor substitute for a desperately needed hug to make believe everything would be all right. Closing her eyes, she rocked back and forth.
Then came the sound of a slap.
“Get up!” Dad shouted at Mom.
Kathleen could imagine him grabbing her mother by her thin wrists and jerking her up off the floor. She’d seen him do it before. Helplessness washed over her.
A crash rattled the walls. Mom was sobbing now. What had he done to her?
Kathleen couldn’t sit by and let Dad kill her. He’d said it so many times. “You’re going to make me kill you, Irene.” And if he did kill Mom, Kathleen would be here alone with him…alone to take the brunt of his anger and resentment.
So what if she was only fourteen years old? Kathleen had to stand up for herself…and for her mother. Lots of fourteen-year-old kids were brave and in worse situations than Kathleen. She crept out of her bedroom and opened the hall closet where Dad kept his pistol.
“You don’t need a codename,” Sam said, interrupting her thoughts. “Kathleen suits you.”
“Thanks. And, yeah, I doubt I’ll be around long enough to get involved in all your intrigue.”
“You already are.”
“Well…hopefully not for long.”
* * *
Amun-Ra stood with his hands on his trim hips as he looked over the shoulder of his newest recruit, who was seated in front of a computer monitor. This part of the underground laboratory was warmer than the section where the experiments were housed, but it was still cool. The décor was industrial gray and steel.
He’d noticed that Atum had been getting antsy long before he’d advised the young man to leave this morning, and Amun-Ra was glad he’d had enough forethought to enlist this new guy—Khonsu, known to the rest of the world as Avery Harding. Younger even than Atum, the man wore his tall, thin frame like an ill-fitting suit he hadn’t had time to tailor. Amun-Ra had also recruited this microbiologist from the University of North Carolina, but Khonsu was still working toward his master’s degree. Still, he was brilliant. And the upheaval he’d suffered in his home life—his mother was a junkie who’d died of an overdose four months ago—had made him a prime choice for selection. Kids like Khonsu made for grateful and fiercely loyal recruits.
Amun-Ra had made a mistake with Atum, who had come from a solid family. Given his military history and his brilliant research into nanotechnology, Amun-Ra had been willing to take a chance. He didn’t regret it. That chance had led to incredible strides being made in the FME project. And those strides would allow Khonsu to seamlessly take Atum’s place.
Khonsu sat in front of a computer monitor scrolling through files. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face. “I…I’m afraid Atum wiped his research files before leaving.”
“That’s impossible. He couldn’t have erased so many files so quickly, especially not with me watching his every move. Check again.”
“Well...” Khonsu cleared his throat. “It could be he, you know, had an exit plan in place. Maybe he’d moved his files onto a flash drive or—”
“I said keep looking!” Amun-Ra swore under his breath as he stormed into his office.
Stepping across the threshold was akin to entering another world. A gas fireplace graced one wall for when it got too chilly—which was all the time, other than the hottest of summer days. Plush ecru carpet covered the floor. A Hekman Old World walnut desk with matching bookshelves filled the wall opposite the fireplace. His desk chair was black tufted leather with antique brass nailhead trim, and, facing the desk, he had a matching couch. Behind the desk stood a fully-stocked bar. Amun-Ra was a man who liked his creature comforts.
His cell phone rang. He removed it from the clip on his belt, saw that it was Hathor, and took the call. “Have you got him?”
“No, sir. Not yet. But we’re close.”
“You’d damned well better be.”
“We are. He had an accident, and we—”
“I tampered with the bike like you asked me to,” Montu interrupted.
Amun-Ra rolled his eyes, even though Montu wasn’t there to witness his disdain. “Hathor, continue.”
“Yes, sir. We think Atum was picked up by a passing motorist and that he needs medical care.”
“Do you have them in sight?”
“Um…yeah… He’s with someone in a red Camaro,” she said.
“Then pull them over and drag his ass out of that car.”
“We don’t want to blow our cover.”
“Hathor, I don’t care about your cover. Say whatever you want. Whoever was stupid enough to stop and pick up Atum is now collateral damage. Run the car off the road and have Montu snap the Good Samaritan’s neck. Just bring Atum back here alive, and I want him here now!”
“Yes, sir.”
Something in her voice caught his attention…some doubt or hesitation. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he didn’t care. She and Montu needed to do whatever it took to maintain the integrity of the project.
Amun-Ra had chosen the code names from Egyptian mythology to intimidate his staff members. He wanted them to think his knowledge extended to the occult. He even had an Egyptian Book of the Dead—with a few of the spells bookmarked, no less—to further that impression. They were scientists, and most of them didn’t believe in the supernatural. But if thinking their boss did fueled their fear of him even in the slightest, then all the better.
He further maintained control over the staff by charging them to secrecy insofar as any personal information was concerned. He was the only one wh
o knew each person’s name, family status, and home address. And no one knew his. He was Amun-Ra, the hidden one, the king of gods and goddesses.
* * *
They turned off the four-lane onto a two-lane highway where there were almost no other cars on the road.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked.
“To the bridge.”
“The bridge you’re going to jump from.”
“Yes.” She kept her eyes fixed on the road in front of her. “There’s a medic station there in the park. You should be able to get checked out there and rest for a bit.”
“You’re committing suicide in a national park?”
Kathleen smiled slightly. “I never said I was committing suicide. I might be—I’ve never bungee jumped before—but if I die, it’s pretty much unintentional.”
“Pretty much?”
She nodded. “Pretty much. There are cabins available in the park. I’ve rented one for the night. And, no, I’m not inviting you to stay with me, but they probably have other vacancies. The park should be a good place for you to get some food and rest for a while before you continue on your way.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Why are you helping me?”
“Why not?”
With a shake of his head, Sam sighed, lowered the back of the seat slightly, and allowed his aching body to relax into the leather cushions. This woman was an enigma. But she wasn’t his problem. He had enough troubles of his own to contend with. Once she got him far enough away from Amun-Ra’s goons, he didn’t care what became of her.
His eyes slid over to examine her profile briefly. Her chin jutted out defiantly as she expertly maneuvered the car through a curve.
He let his heavy lids drift shut. Not my problem.
Chapter Three
Kathleen tapped Sam on the forearm. “We’re here.”
He opened his eyes as they drove up to the security gate to the park. Kathleen was glad he’d fallen asleep. It had given her time to be alone with her thoughts. How stupid had she been to help a fugitive? He could easily be lying to her. He could be on the run for murder or something.
And yet, she had a feeling he was telling the truth. His story was too weird to be made up, especially on the spot.
Besides, she’d done much crazier things than pick up an accident victim.
She put down her window and greeted the security guard.
“Hi, I’m Kathleen Freemont. I was told there’d be some papers waiting for me here?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped back into the guard shack and returned with a thick envelope with her name written on the front. “Here’s everything you’ll need. Have a good jump.”
“Thank you.” She placed the envelope on the console and drove on. “Sam, would you mind opening the envelope and telling me my cabin number please?”
“Sure.” He tore open the packet and removed a key. “Number eight.”
She turned onto a road that a sign indicated led to the cabins. Slowing as she approached, she found number eight nestled among a thicket of pine trees.
She scrunched her face. “I don’t want to park here. Sap will get all over my car.” She looked over at Sam. “If you’re not up to walking, I can leave you here. I’ll be back as soon as I find a suitable parking spot.”
“I can walk.”
Kathleen discovered a playground not far from the cabin with a small paved parking lot. She pulled into the lot and found a space between two minivans.
Sam said something from the seat next to her, but she didn’t focus on his words. She was staring at a little girl giggling while her mother pushed her on the swing. “I’m sorry?”
“I said this isn’t too bad—the walk back to the cabin, I mean.” He jabbed a thumb toward the row of cabins.
“Oh. Yeah…right.” She gave him a tight smile and clicked the button to open the trunk. “We should head over then.”
She got out of the car, retrieved a duffle from the trunk, made sure Sam had his backpack, and locked the car. “Ready?”
He nodded.
She cast another glance over her shoulder at the mother and child before firmly turning her head. “So, what else is in the envelope?”
“I don’t know. Not my envelope.” He handed it to her.
She opened it and looked inside. There were coupons for the café, another key to the cabin, a brochure about the park…the usual welcome packet.
“I’m sorry I’m ruining your vacation,” Sam said.
“This isn’t a vacation. Just an overnight trip. And it isn’t ruined. I’ll still make my jump time.”
“Do you do things like this often?”
“You mean, taking overnight trips or helping fugitives?” Her grin softened her tone.
“I mean things like jumping off bridges.”
“This is my first bungee jump.”
“But not your first—I don’t know—adventure.”
“First adventure with a fugitive.”
He huffed.
“All right, all right,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve been tandem sky diving, took a one-day race car driving class, and tried tightrope walking. I wasn’t very good at that. I was grateful for the net that broke my fall, but I still landed funny and sprained my wrist.”
“Are you an adrenaline junkie?” he asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe I lead such a boring life, I need a dose of excitement now and then.”
“Dammit, girl! Get your nose out of a book once in a while and do something! Instead of sitting around like a slug, go clean up the kitchen!”
The slap jerked her head so forcefully that it sprained her neck.
She was five.
She shuddered.
“You’re not cold, are you?” Sam asked.
“Just a momentary bout of nerves.”
“I’ll come watch you jump, if that’ll help.”
“No, thanks,” she said, with a shake of her head. “You need to get to the medical facility as soon as possible. Hopefully, its location will be on the map inside the brochure.”
They reached Cabin 8, and Kathleen unlocked the door. She dropped her duffel onto the floor and Sam placed his backpack beside it.
Kathleen surveyed the room. The living room contained a red and blue plaid sofa with a matching chair located to the left. A maple coffee table sat in the middle of the grouping and contained an assortment of fanned outdoorsy magazines. Just beyond the tiny living room was a kitchenette with an island that served double duty as a breakfast nook. A small dining table finished filling up the room. A hallway to the right had to lead to the bedroom and bathroom. She’d check those out later.
For now, she took a seat on the sofa and opened the brochure containing the park map. She pushed the magazines aside and smoothed the map onto the coffee table as Sam settled in beside her.
“Here it is.” She pointed to the red cross on the map. “It appears to be just beyond the public restrooms.” She turned to him, took in the dark circles beneath his eyes, his pallor. “I can walk over there and see if they have a wheelchair.”
He shook his head. “Not necessary. I must look worse than I feel. I can make it all right.”
Kathleen halfway doubted that but didn’t want to be pushy. “Well, if you’re sure…I need to get to the bridge.”
“Go ahead. And good luck with the jump.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave one of the keys to the cabin here on the table. You can use it to get back in after you get patched up.”
“I appreciate that. And, don’t forget, I get your car if the bungee cord breaks.”
She smiled. “You got it.”
As Kathleen left the cabin, it struck her that she was leaving a stranger with her belongings. She had her purse, of course, so it wasn’t like he could steal her wallet and her car keys and run off. Her tablet was in the duffel, but she didn’t think that made all that much difference. She headed toward the bridge, deciding to put aside her misgivings and
to continue to trust her initial instincts about him.
* * *
When Sam arrived at the medical station, he saw it was also the ranger station, visitors’ center, and vending machine hub. An elderly volunteer manned the reception desk and pleasantly inquired how she might help him.
“Could you direct me to the medical services area?”
“Of course, dear. Take the hallway right behind me. It’s the first door you come to on the right.”
He thanked her and headed down the hall.
Sam poked his head into the room marked Infirmary, and saw a rotund, red-faced man smiling as he read a Readers’ Digest. “Excuse me.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on in.” The man put the magazine aside. “Love that ‘Humor in Uniform’ column. Was an army man myself.” He rose from behind the desk and ushered Sam into the room.
“Navy,” said Sam.
“Well, nice to meet you, Navy.” The man chuckled at his joke. “What can I do for you?”
“I took a spill from my bike and…my…um…girlfriend…insisted I come over here and get checked out.”
“Ah, it’s good to have someone worrying about you, ain’t it?” He nodded toward a cot. “Get undressed, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He closed the door when he left the room.
Sam moved as fast as the scrapes and soreness allowed and was all set by the time the man returned.
“Now, let’s have a look at you.” He put on a pair of latex gloves.
“Were you a medic in the army?” Sam asked.
“Yep. I’m retired now. Do this on a volunteer basis. Gets me out of the house during the summer and early fall.” He winced. “It’s good you were wearing protective gear, but that’s still some ugly-looking road rash on your right arm. Bet it hurts like the dickens.”
“Not too awfully bad. And, yeah, the Kevlar jeans probably saved my butt—literally.”
“Yep. We’ll put this antibiotic cream and petroleum jelly on your arm and cover it with gauze. I’ll give you a little tube of each and a change of dressing to take with you. You’ll probably have to go over to the drug store and get some more to last you until this clears up.” He felt of Sam’s side. “Any tenderness here?”
“No.”
