Driven

by Robert J. Crane

  And now it had.

  She pushed the accelerator harder to the floor, thinking over what she needed to do now. But she’d already done the big one, the one that was vital to her survival and hopefully to finding Miranda.

  Now all that was left was to find a quiet place where she could go to sleep tonight, and hope that Reed’s message to Sienna would get through … before it was too late.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sienna

  It took a little effort to try and picture Angel, when it came time to dreamwalk to her. After all, I hadn’t met her before she came riding in with the cavalry to save my ass in Scotland, so it wasn’t as though I had a ton of material to work with. I’d known her name, sure, because I’d been kept up on the developments with the building of the new agency thanks to Miranda, but as for personal dealings?

  Nah. I recalled her face as she’d watched me with a lot of the others who were there, but she’d kept her distance after the battle and during the flight back to America. I assumed she was intimidated by my famous awesomeness (kidding. Ish) and I was surrounded by people who knew me a lot better than she did, so breaking through just to talk to me was probably not even worth it. I hadn’t been in much of a talking mood then, anyway.

  Trying to focus on that sliver of a memory I did have of her, from her personnel file, from seeing her both on the streets of Rose’s village and in the plane after, I recalled brown hair with traces of lighter highlights that could have been natural or fake. Brown eyes occasionally obscured by glasses she wore for style. She wasn’t much taller than me, if she was even taller at all.

  Keeping her in mind as best as I could, I settled back on a pillow and closed my eyes, ignoring the faint noise from the other room. Harry had the TV on, turned down low so as not to disturb me, presumably. We hadn’t had much to say since we’d gotten back to our apartment. It had probably all been said already.

  I slipped into the darkness of sleep, and what felt like seconds later I was on my fainting couch in the conjured entertainment area I used for my dreamwalks. “Ahhh,” I said, enjoying the softness of my furniture.

  “Huh,” a female voice said, and I turned to see Angel, as summoned, sitting in the armchair where Reed or Zollers usually parked themselves. “So this is what a dreamwalk looks like?”

  “Either that, or you’re having a hell of a delusion,” I said, getting up. “Reed said you wanted to talk, so … “ I tried to find a tactful way to say what was on my mind, but my argument with Harry earlier had left me somewhat bereft of patience. “So talk.”

  “Well, okay,” Angel said, pretty cool considering she’d asked for this meeting and I’d probably just blown the polite protocol by cutting straight to the chase. “Miranda’s gone.”

  I frowned. “Gone … how?”

  “I think the Tamaulipas Cartel got to her,” she said. “I went to check out her place and got ambushed by hired guns. Barely made it out without taking a bullet.”

  I was still frowning. “Okay, good that you made it out. Bad that guys with guns were involved. Why come to me?”

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” Angel said, sighing, “but we gotta get moving on this Miranda thing. She’s been gone for at least two days. I think she broke and ran on her own, based on what I saw, but … I can’t be sure. She might have been kidnapped at her condo. Or they might have gotten her later.”

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Why is this Cartel after her?”

  “Long-ish story,” Angel said. “But Cliff’s Notes … she was their lawyer. And stuff.”

  “Wow,” I said, “that’s kinda sketchy.”

  Angel cocked an eyebrow at me. “You think it’s sketchy that bad guys are after her? How many bad guys have come after you over the years?”

  “Exactly my point,” I said with great humor, even though she’d plainly busted me on that one. “I’m a wanted fugitive, so clearly I’m a sketchy person.”

  Angel let out a little snort of laughter. “Look … if the Cartel is after her again, Miranda’s in real danger. And she may look tough, especially in a courtroom, but that’s not where these people play. I could use some help. Someone who can take the trouble that’s coming along with this.”

  It was my turn to arch an eyebrow. “Ooh, danger. Never been in that before.” It only took me a second to make my decision, of course. “Where do I meet you? And where are we going?”

  “Meet me in Minneapolis,” she said. “Can you get there?”

  “Yeah, I’ll work it out today,” I said. “I’m in Sioux Falls, South Dakota right now, so … if worst comes to worst, I’ll hop a bus and be there in less than a day.”

  She nodded. “That’ll work. If you need a ride, let me know.”

  I thought of Harry, of what he’d said about not being able to follow me. I hoped that was some kind of bluster, because if I was going to square off against some cartel, he’d surely stick with me on that.

  Right?

  “I’ll give you a call,” I said, tapping my head. “Once I know what the plan entails.”

  “Another thing,” Angel said, looking me over. “You’re gonna need a better disguise.”

  “I don’t look exactly like this right now,” I said, gesturing to myself. I’d gone with a fluorescent wig over my hair at this point, wore glasses in public that changed the shape of my face, but was probably going to have to up my disguise game some if I was going back to Minneapolis, the frigging bear den when it came to Sienna Nealon hunting. In the dreamwalk, I looked like my old self, with brown hair and pale skin and no glasses.

  Myself as I remembered me, before all this running had me try and be someone different. And infinitely tired. I felt drained all the time.

  “That’s good, because I could pick you out of a crowd at a mile,” Angel said. “So … “ And she went a little tentative. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “By hook or by crook,” I said, nodding once. Yeah, my decision was made. I mean, it was a case, and I’m Sienna Nealon, so …

  “By hook or by crook,” Angel repeated, softly, as the dreamwalk faded around us. “Sounds about right.”

  And then she was gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Please don’t do this,” Harry said mournfully as I packed my bag. It never took long, packing, at least not these days. My wardrobe was a rotating thing, with a few favorite items that I could change up to work with different disguises, and a wig or two for quick hair color changes, but I still traveled light enough to fit it all into a gym bag, which was now lying, nearly full, upon the bed. “Sienna … please.”

  I had my back to him, shoveling my toothbrush, soaps and hair straightener into the smaller bag I kept for toiletries. “Harry … you’ve known me long enough now that I think you realize—”

  “That you’re not going to listen,” Harry finished for me. His voice was strained, and when I turned, he was ghostly pale. “I know that. But still … I have to ask … beg, really … please, Sienna. Don’t do this.”

  I zipped up my toiletry bag and held it in front of me like a shield. Harry was blocking the door out of our tiny bathroom, but not in a threatening way. “Harry … what are you not telling me?”

  He didn’t look away, but his eyes were dull. “I see every possible future, Sienna. There’s a metric ton I’m not telling you at any given moment, because it’s not healthy for anyone to know too much about their future.”

  “Explain yourself, then,” I said, and pushed past him without resorting to shoulder checking him or anything of the sort. He moved at the last second, of course.

  “I don’t see my own future,” Harry said, following me back into the bedroom.

  “Yeah, well, you’re Peeping-Tomming into mine,” I said, tossing the toiletries into my shoulder bag. I came around, heading for the closet to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. “Which has been great up until now, since you’ve helped me avoid law enforcement, helped me feel … safe. Now, though, you’ve suddenly gotten really crypti
c. And I don’t love a mystery if it’s not of the punch-me-in-the-face variety.”

  “I don’t want to … “ Harry looked like he was straining at the very bounds of himself, trying to figure what to say and how to say it. After a minute, he seemed to give up. “This … path you’re on … these choices you’re making … “ He looked up at me, met my eyes. “They’re going to lead you to a very dangerous place, one I’m not sure you’re coming out of. We all have certain … crisis points in our life, things that we flow toward, major events that will come regardless of the thousand small choices we make every day. The choices you’re making now are going to feed you right into a place, into a fate … “ His face showed actual pain, longing given life, and his hand reached for me, like he was fighting against some invisible force holding him back. “Don’t go, Sienna. Don’t do this. Please.”

  I looked him right in the eye. “This place I’m going … this inevitable—”

  “It’s not inevitable,” he said, “if you stay here with me.” His eyes were alight with hope for just a second.

  Then it faded.

  “It’s Revelen, isn’t it?” I asked. “This … is going to lead me to Revelen somehow.”

  He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

  “And you can’t tell me—”

  “Nothing I can say is going to make one damned bit of difference,” Harry said, opening his eyes again. Now he wore a look that matched his age; he seemed tired and jaded, all the fight gone out of him. “I could tell you everything I know, and you know what it’d do? Get you killed. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.”

  I stared him down. “So am I.”

  He blinked. “You’re a little knowledge? Or you’re—”

  “Dangerous, yes, jeez, Harry, do you even know me?”

  “Well, you could have meant that you were a little knowledge. You know a lot of weird things, which is why we don’t play trivia games as anything other than a team.”

  “The reason we don’t play trivia games against each other,” I said, “is because you know the answers before the question is asked, you dink.”

  This prompted a ghost of a smile that faded just as quickly as it had appeared. “Seriously.”

  I finished checking the closet. I was done. “Seriously … “ I turned around on him. “You know the probabilities, Harry. Is there anything you can say that’s going to sway me here?”

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but bit it back. “Only one thing.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He seemed to undergo a long struggle, and then, once it ended, regret bloomed, faintly, on Harry’s face. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I looked at him, he looked at me. He wasn’t the only one feeling the regret, but …

  “You know how you got mad at me when I told you I saw Scotland coming and didn’t warn you?” Harry asked, as I started to move toward the bathroom. “This is what would have happened if I’d warned you.”

  My entire body was tense, ears perked up, and I just stood there. “Yeah,” I finally said.

  “You may think of it as inescapable fate that these things keep happening to you, Sienna,” he said, “but it’s not. There’s no fate; there’s only choices and consequences. And you keep making the choices that lead you into the belly of God knows how many beasts. Then you complain that you end up partially digested—”

  “This is just such a lovely metaphor.”

  “—but that’s the consequences of your choice. You charge into the fire and get mad when you get burned.”

  “Well, I used to be able to handle fire a lot better than I can presently—”

  “But you’re the one who chooses to go in. Nobody else chooses it for you. You do it. Even when you know you’re going to get burned.”

  “Yep,” I said, feeling a burning in my heart and in my throat. “I do.” I did not look back at him. “And like you said … this time, again … my choice is already made, so … “

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Harry said, and I heard him squat down next to the bed and drag something out. I turned enough to see him holding a canvas duffel in his arms. He tossed it on the bed next to mine. “I got these for you because … this is all I have left to give you. I … “ He started to say something else, but shook his head. “I’m going out for a while, and when I get back, I know you’ll be gone.” He seemed to jerk into motion toward me, then stopped himself and altered his course toward the door. When he reached it, he only lingered a minute before pulling it open. “Goodbye, Sienna,” he said, and left, shutting it behind him.

  I stood there, like a statue, until his footsteps had faded away from the apartment door. Then I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. “Another catastrophe,” I said, just trying to keep it together. “Big surprise.” And I walked into the bathroom to make my last sweep before I left, still trying to hold it together.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Iwalked to the nearest bus station, which, I hadn’t realized, was only a couple blocks away from the apartment that Harry had rented for us when we got to town. I’d always left him to make those arrangements because as a well-known fugitive, limiting my contact with people seemed wise. And so Harry had chosen a place with convenient access to a bus station, as though he’d known, inevitably, I’d need to walk there some day.

  Now that day had come.

  It was summer, but not too hot yet. The sun beat down on me as I bought my ticket, the clerk giving me a wary look as we transacted our business. Harry’s gift had been a good one; temporary tattoos for my face and arms, wigs that matched them, some clothes that better fit my new disguise, and some other … stuff.

  I stepped onto the bus to Minneapolis a little before nine in the morning, my newly repacked duffel bag slung on my shoulder, a little heavier because it was the one Harry had given me with my smaller bag stuck inside. He’d picked it out perfectly; it had just enough room for my own bag along with his own contributions to my well-being and safety, and I felt another trace of regret as I put it above my seat, which was in the middle of the bus, the entire row unoccupied.

  The air pressure hiss of the door closing was like a signal that this chapter of my life—this calm, Harry-filled, pleasant chapter—had concluded, and the bus rolled out of Sioux Falls and into the day, heading east on Interstate 90 toward Albert Lea, Minnesota.

  The landscape east of Sioux Falls was green prairie; not quite the rolling fields of home, but it slowly gave way to green farms, until we were safely beyond the Minnesota state line and ensconced in endless, verdant fields of corn and soybeans.

  We rumbled back onto the interstate after a brief stop in Worthington, Minnesota, flat ground stretching forever in front of us, and I took a little nap somewhere around Blue Earth, drifting off for a few minutes with Angel in mind. It didn’t last long, just long enough to catch her, luckily, and tell her I’d be in Minneapolis in the next few hours.

  “I’ll be waiting,” she said with a curt nod.

  I woke up when the bus’s air brakes hissed to a stop. The seats had filled over the last few stops. Now there was a couple sitting across from me. Turning my head as the driver opened the door, I realized that there were not all that many unoccupied seats left. Apparently people had been avoiding the girl with the hot pink hair, at least up until now, but as I watched about fifteen people getting onto the bus, I had a feeling my number was just about up.

  That theory was born out a minute later when an indecisive lady in her late thirties made her way down the aisle. She had long blond hair that was pulled back in a mom bun, and a flannel shirt with long sleeves rolled up. She had on jeans, and you could tell they were probably a size small, a little ragged, and her tank top was exposed beneath the partially buttoned shirt. Dark bags hung under her eyes, and she shifted her gaze left and right as she scanned the rows, finally settling on me as she stopped just next to the empty seat on the aisle beside me.

  “Is this seat taken?” she asked. She sounded as weary as she looke
d.

  What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “No, it’s totally free, but fuck off anyway”? Which I didn’t say, even though I wished she’d picked any other seat.

  Instead, I said just shook my head no, and she took the small shoulder bag off her back and slung it up into the bin space above our seat and slipped in next to me, smiling tightly as she sat down and settled in. A half dozen more people passed us by, and I realized that if she hadn’t taken this seat, someone else surely would have. The bus was getting pretty full.

  We pulled out a few minutes later, without a word exchanged between us. There was a decent hum of conversation over the thrum of the air conditioner, which gave the interior of the bus a pleasant chill to offset the summer heat of Southern Minnesota. Back on I-90 a few minutes later, my seatmate finally broke her silence.

  “This is such a long drive,” she said, almost whispering it to herself.

  “Tell me about it,” I said, before I’d given it much thought. Because if I had given it any thought, I’d have realized a) Why the hell are you starting a conversation with a stranger? and b) She’d been speaking to herself so low that no normal human should have been able to hear her, especially given the noise of the bus.

  She whipped her head around at me in surprise, probably because she hadn’t meant to be overheard. Blinking that surprise away, instead her manners compelled her to respond. “Yeah, it’s, uh … forever.”

  “I agree,” I said, now realizing my errors, but kinda trapped. “That’s how Minneapolis is, though, y’know? Six hours from Chicago, five from Milwaukee, four from Des Moines … it’s like an island by itself in the middle of the north.”

  “Yeah,” she said with a nod. She seemed to struggle with whether or not she should say more, but whatever emotions were warring behind her distant gaze apparently found their outlet and broke free. “I’m heading up for a funeral. You?”