Riders

by Veronica Rossi

  She was trusting me.

  “We need to go to Italy,” she said, quietly.

  “Okay.” I couldn’t believe what I was agreeing to. “Okay. How are we getting there?”

  “You.”

  I rubbed my head as I thought it over. I had a couple thousand stashed away. It might be enough for four plane tickets. If it wasn’t, I could suck it up and use my credit card. I’d need to figure out flight schedules, whether we needed visas, but that was doable. We just needed time. “How soon do we need to be there?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I laughed. It was already past three in the afternoon. “Daryn, I don’t see how this is happening.”

  “But you will,” she said, watching me with the same expression she’d worn the first time I’d seen her at Joy’s party. Like she was asking me to step up to a challenge. “We’re going to catch a flight tonight. I saw us on a cargo plane.”

  “You saw us?”

  She nodded. “You got us there, Gideon. Now, you just need to figure out how.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Our first stop back in Los Angeles was my bank, where I emptied my account of the nearly two thousand dollars I’d saved from jobs, birthdays, graduation, and the Army pay I’d earned so far. It was money I’d wanted to give to Anna someday to help her study in Paris. Now I’d be using it to go to Italy. My life was taking some solid turns.

  Sebastian came with me and the clerk turned out to be a guy he’d done some auditions with, so the transaction took about fifteen years to complete. I left the bank with a slim envelope of cash. Bastian walked out with a tote bag full of key chains, coffee mugs, and Post-it pads, everything stamped with the bank logo.

  We headed to a sporting-goods store and went on a little shopping spree courtesy of yours truly, stocking up on warm clothes in dark colors, binos, a set of two-way radios with GPS, rope, a first-aid kit, and a bowie knife, which felt unnecessary because, you know, magic sword, but also necessary since at that point, I had a better chance of making it rain than calling my weapon. We piled into my Jeep with our brand-new backpacks stuffed with supplies, granola bars, and water bottles. Geared to the gills, but it was going to take a lot more than gear to get the job done.

  Next I stopped at a shipping store to drop off one of the radios, spending a small fortune to overnight it to the Ritz Carlton in Rome, then I drove us to LAX. I said good-bye to my Jeep in the airport parking lot, which hit me harder than I expected. It felt like leaving a piece of my dad out there, but I snagged the Pearl Jam cassette and stuffed it into my pack, which made me feel a little better.

  Around six, I left everyone in the domestic terminal and did some recon of the area of LAX where the shipping companies operated. A couple hours later, with the mission prep done, I met up with them and went over the plan I’d drawn up. Then it was time to execute.

  We hopped on the airport shuttle. At that hour in the evening it wasn’t very full, but Daryn came to my side, placing her hand next to mine on the steel grab bar along the ceiling. I noticed the chain around her neck. The key was tucked away. Hidden again.

  “Almost there,” she said. “One more horseman to go.”

  “After three comes four,” I said, reading the airline signs that zipped past outside. I’d made a mistake in starting to like her. I had to figure out how to correct it. This wasn’t the time to add complications.

  “Gideon…”

  “We should stay focused on the mission.”

  “That’s what I was going to say, but you won’t look at me.”

  I swung around so I was staring right into her blue eyes. “You have my full attention. Anything else?”

  She didn’t say anything, but color came up on her cheeks and her hand flexed next to mine on the bar. I knew she felt it, too. This friction between us. Like we were magnets that couldn’t line up right.

  Marcus and Sebastian were watching us. Not even trying to hide it.

  “This is us,” I said.

  “It’s not that I don’t want that, it’s just that—”

  “This is our stop, Daryn.” I shifted my backpack on my shoulder and hopped out. “Ready?” I asked Sebastian.

  He made a sound that was either a yes or some mild regurgitation.

  To reach the cargo terminal we’d need to get through two layers of security. First, past a gatehouse that was the entry point for a large parking lot full of semis. This was where shipping companies trucked in their cargo before it was moved through another security point into the actual terminal where the planes were—which was the second breach we’d need to make, the airport itself.

  The first lot was surrounded by twelve-foot concrete walls topped with concertina wire, so. Best way inside was through the gatehouse.

  I checked my watch, and then Sebastian and I hustled up to it as Marcus and Daryn stayed behind. We had two minutes before the security cameras panned back.

  The older man inside looked up from a crossword puzzle. “Can I help you?” he asked, with surprise. This part of the airport wasn’t for pedestrian traffic.

  According to the plan, Sebastian was supposed to make his move now. He looked like he might pass out, which was not the right move.

  “Whenever you’re ready, dude,” I said.

  “I can’t,” he said. Then he gave the man an apologetic grin.

  The guard returned Bastian’s smile, even though he was starting to look anxious. “You two lost?” he asked.

  “No. I mean, yes,” Bas said. He shot me a pleading look. “We’ll be leaving now.”

  No way. He wasn’t going to flake out on me. I reached for the anger inside me, the burning potential that was always there, and let the charge ignite. I looked Bastian right in the eye and sent him a small shot of it.

  “Shit!” he said, his eyes flying wide. “Gideon, what did you do to me?”

  It was the first time I’d ever heard him swear. “Provided some motivation. You’re on, man. We need you. Channel it, and get it done.”

  He looked at the guard. A second later the man’s body relaxed. I jumped through the window in time to catch him before he hit the floor.

  “He looks okay, right?” Sebastian asked. “He didn’t get hurt, did he?”

  “He’s fine. He’ll just have a headache and some mild confusion when he wakes up.” I set him down behind the chair and locked the door to the gatehouse from the inside so he’d be safe in there until he came back around.

  I stared into the darkness. Daryn was supposed to be there any minute.

  “Wow, I feel weird,” Bastian said, rolling his shoulders. “Jumpy. Is this how you always feel? What’s next again?”

  He looked a little strung-out, his weight shifting restlessly, his jaw flexing like he was grinding his teeth. I remembered Anna crying after she’d slapped Wyatt. Sometimes using my ability had consequences that weren’t great.

  Daryn and Marcus walked up moments later, both looking much calmer than Bas.

  “Okay, let’s go. Nice and easy. We’re just going to take a walk, everybody,” I said, as we moved inside. To one end, busy warehouses crawled with pallets and forklifts. I took us the other way, deeper into darkness. With so many trucks in there, the lot’s lights made a checkerboard of light and shadow. Killer for getting psyched out. Every truck was a place the Kindred could be hiding behind. Even with some training under my belt on staying cool under this kind of stress, I was juiced on adrenaline.

  I glanced at Marcus. He was belligerent and cagey. I thought he’d be the one to worry about, but thanks to my shot of rage, Sebastian was the one who looked fired up and primed to punch something.

  We arrived at a cyclone fence that bordered the airport. I could see the tarmac from where we were, lines of cargo planes, with fuel trucks and forklifts servicing everything. Reaching into my backpack, I fished out the radio/GPS and tracked the position of the companion unit I’d shipped earlier.

  “Is that it?” Daryn asked. She leaned close to me and looked at the dot on the
small screen in my hands. It indicated a position 146 meters dead ahead.

  “That’s it.” I looked at the row of planes in front of us, eyeballing distances. “Third one’s ours,” I guessed, but the GPS would guide me right in. I slid the radio into my pocket and pulled wire cutters out of my pack, using them to create a small opening in the fence for us to climb through. Sebastian got tangled and ripped his sleeve, but we survived and made it inside. We were physically in the airport. Second breach down.

  Now came the riskiest part: moving to the plane. I knew there’d be cameras everywhere, and there was plenty of activity around, so we’d have to stick close to the shadows—without looking suspicious.

  We moved in bursts, with me on point and Marcus at the rear, everyone moving quietly except Sebastian, who was about as stealthy as a giraffe.

  “Get quiet and low,” I whispered to him.

  He ducked his head, taking him to an almost invisible six-foot-two.

  We’d closed to within thirty meters of the plane when I saw two men in blue mechanic’s coveralls approaching. Quickly, I got everyone down behind a fuel truck.

  The men came closer, strolling like they were on a break. They came to a stop around the front of the truck, close enough that I could hear one of them scratch his stubble. They were heckling each other over some bet on a football game.

  This wasn’t good. Our plane had to be taking off soon. I could see its loading ramp from where I crouched. We were so close. Sweat rolled down my chest and my back. We’d be arrested if we got caught. I’d have a record. That would make getting my old life back virtually impossible. I couldn’t screw this up.

  The fuel-truck guys wouldn’t leave. They couldn’t decide what the wager had been, twenty bucks or a case of beer. Bastian kept shifting around, his shoes scraping the asphalt. I knew he was still jacked up on the rage shot I’d given him.

  Turning, I sent him a shut up glare.

  He tapped his cuff like it was a watch. “Let me take them!” he whispered.

  But I couldn’t let him do that. One passed-out security person at LAX wouldn’t raise suspicion. But three? I didn’t want to bring that kind of heat on us. There was already too much outside of my control.

  “Gideon,” Bas started in again.

  Daryn moved to his side and mouthed, Bas, quiet.

  The men went silent. I locked eyes with Marcus, who I knew could fight. A fight would be better than an arrest, but neither were good. I shook my head, telling him no. I imagined for an instant telling Cory this story, what was happening right now, and how he’d howl. I hoped I’d get the chance to do that someday.

  The men picked up their conversation and walked away.

  I rechecked the GPS. Last burst. We hustled to the 757 I’d spotted earlier. As we closed, I heard the engines running. That meant the plane was leaving soon—a good thing. I took everyone right up the ramp, then scanned the hold—pallets, boxes, no people—clear.

  Or maybe not.

  I heard whimpering, coming from deeper inside the plane.

  “Get behind this and wait here,” I said, indicating one of the containers. Then I took out my knife and moved toward the sound. The cargo was stashed in steel pallets to either side of a central corridor. It grew darker as I went, and the whimpering became louder. I followed the sound to a metal cage and knelt.

  Silence.

  Gold eyes stared from the darkness. I pulled my penlight from my pocket and clicked it on. A shepherd. I recognized the breed—Belgian Malinois. They were used a lot as combat dogs. “Hey, buddy. Just hang tight, I’ll be back.”

  I checked a few labels on the boxes around me and confirmed we were on the right plane. FIUMICINO, ROMA IT. Marcus, Bastian, and Daryn hustled up.

  “People were coming,” Daryn said.

  I heard them. The ground crew at the rear of the plane, going through the preflight checklist.

  I motioned them to stay put and continued down the length of the cargo hold, moving toward the cockpit. I had three main objectives now. First, make sure the dog was the only other living cargo aboard—confirmed. Second, I didn’t think the pilots would come back into the cargo hold but I had to secure the door from our side—I did that with some nylon rope from my pack. Third, find a place we could hide during the flight—located.

  The floor had electric tracks—a kind of pulley system for loading the pallets—but about halfway into the hold, the tracks stopped. There, the plane had steel girders as big as railroad ties across the floor, a reinforcing belt right down the center that created a clear corridor about three feet wide. In front of this space were more pallets, which must have been loaded through the nose of the plane. I noticed a candy-bar wrapper and a cigarette butt on the floor. It looked like we weren’t the only ones to have traveled this way.

  I found the others and brought them over. “It’s tight, but it should work.”

  The whine of the rear doors closing made Bastian jump. The bright overhead lights shut off, leaving only the weaker emergency lights on, plunging us into near darkness. We scattered around the narrow space and hunkered down. In ten minutes, we were in the air, the engines roaring loud and steady.

  Sebastian shoved me in the shoulder. “That was sick! I didn’t realize that was going to be so fun!”

  “Maybe try not to yell? There are pilots flying this thing,” I said.

  “Stop trying to act like that wasn’t awesome because it was!” He pushed me again. “You’re such a badass, Gideon!”

  I had to smile. “You did the hard part.”

  “Yeah, but you were like, ‘Hold here everyone, just be cool,’” he said, adopting this super intense look that I really hoped wasn’t me. “It was sick!”

  Down the aisle, Daryn leaned forward and smiled. She didn’t chime in with any praise, though, and it seemed like the moment she would’ve if she were going to. But that was okay. A smile was good.

  Great, actually.

  We’d done it. We were on a plane heading for Italy.

  Reaching into my backpack for my wire cutters, I hopped to my feet.

  “Where you going?” Bas asked.

  “Canine rescue mission,” I said, and went for the dog.

  CHAPTER 32

  “You went for the dog and…?” Cordero says, when I stop.

  “I got her out. It was a female.”

  “Nice of you, Gideon. What I’d like to know more about is the key you mentioned.”

  “I’ll get back to it in a second. I was just wondering something.” Why is Daryn here? But I can’t ask Cordero that. I look at Texas, then at Beretta. I took the gold-medal oath. “I just told you seven demons are roaming the earth. Don’t you have any questions about that?”

  Cordero smirks. She opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it. “I’m waiting,” she says finally. “I’m waiting until you’re finished.”

  “Are you interested in knowing the Kindred got the key? That at the end of this, they took it in Norway? That they have it right now?”

  “Of course it interests me. That’s why I’m still listening.”

  She’s listening all right, but that’s kind of not even the point. Is she believing me, is the point. If she believes me, why isn’t she freaking the hell out? Taking drastic measures? But if she doesn’t believe me, why sit here?

  Cordero rises from her chair. “Let’s take another short break. I’m sure you’re getting hungry. That granola bar can’t have gone far. Let me see what I can do.”

  She leaves and takes Beretta with her.

  I count to sixty before I address Texas. “Just tell me one thing. Did Daryn come here on her own?”

  He ignores me. The radiator goes on and clicks for a full minute before Texas gives me a nod that could be measured in nanometers.

  Now I’m wondering why. Why did she come back? The Kindred got what they wanted. We lost. They won. So why is she back? Are we going after them?

  Beretta returns with a cold slice of cheese pizza. I’m just finishing
it when Cordero comes back, like a category 5 perfume hurricane. I’m breathing flower shops and fruit stands and turned earth smells and I can’t help myself. I wince and then unwince, but it’s too late. Cordero’s seen.

  She sits down and adjusts her chair, and sets a number two pencil on top of my file. When she opens my file the pencil rolls off the edge of the table and clatters to the floor.

  I see red bricks. My dad falling through the air. And instantly, violently, the pizza tries to kick its way up my esophagus.

  Somehow, I manage to keep it down.

  Texas steps forward and picks up the pencil. His eyes pause on me before he gives it to Cordero. Beretta is watching me, too.

  Cordero picks up on the tension. She looks at each of us, then it dawns on her.

  “Oh, Gideon!” she says. “I’m sorry.” She slips the pencil into the pocket of her jacket and takes out the pen she’s been using. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  I shake my head because I can’t talk. It doesn’t seem like her not to think. Did she do that on purpose? But why would she have?

  There’s a sense of urgency inside me, an inner burn. I was thinking of something important. Now all I can think of is my dad falling from the roof of a yellow bungalow.

  “Ready?” Cordero says.

  CHAPTER 33

  The cargo plane was cold, uncomfortable, and loud. A lot like a military plane, in other words. The engines roared like a dozen jackhammers going off at the same time, exhausting even with the earplugs we’d bought. Marcus popped his in and zoned out ten minutes after wheels-up.

  I gave Sebastian dog duties. The shepherd, Lia, had been so scared of flying she could barely walk when I got her out of her cage. I’d had to carry her over to our area. I put Bas in charge of petting her and making sure she was okay. It was what I wanted to do but he was still amped from the rage shot I’d given him. I thought maybe soothing Lia would soothe him, and I was right. They were curled up together in no time, completely sacked out.

  I spent a little while locating the other radio because it still might come in handy. I found it in one of the shipping containers as we flew over Scottsdale, Arizona. It was starting to get late by then, but I couldn’t sleep. I noticed that Daryn, who was on the other side of the center aisle past Marcus, couldn’t either. She had her penlight out and she was writing in her notebook. I slid the radio across for her to keep. She looked over at me, dropped the radio into her backpack, and went back to her journal.