Savage's Woman

by Loki Renard

  “Come on,” he said. “Out the fire escape onto the roof. Let’s move.”

  And that was how Zora found herself clambering over rooftops at nearly midnight. Their escape plan was fairly flawless. Savage had mapped out an exit strategy, which involved running from roof to roof, making use of boards handily left atop the buildings for the purposes of creating spur of the minute gangways.

  Zora was not overly fond of shaky wooden bridges, but she didn’t have much time to question the plan. Savage took point, Anja brought up the rear and Zora was shuttled in the middle.

  It occurred to her, as they ran, that Savage might just have lost his marbles. There were no people obviously chasing them, no helicopters hovering over the city. Even the police sirens, which were usually fairly constant, seemed to have taken a break.

  Then it clicked. It was quiet. Far, far too quiet. It was as if some great predator was crouched, listening, waiting for signs of movement.

  The thought made a trickle of fear run through her chest and into her stomach.

  “Shhh!” Savage stopped in the middle of the roof of an unfamiliar building and pressed his finger to his lips. He grabbed Zora by the arm and pulled her into an open stairwell. Anja followed suit, pressing her slim body hard up against the wall.

  “What?” Zora hissed the question and was rewarded with a brawny hand clamped over her mouth.

  Then she saw it, a halo of light passing over the rooftop. It could only have come from above, from a helicopter hovering silently in the sky. Her eyes widened as she realized just how close they’d come to getting caught. Only Savage’s keen eyes and survival instinct had saved them from being discovered.

  He relaxed his hand, allowing her to breathe through her mouth. Fear was hitting her like ocean waves, making her knees tremble and threaten to buckle as she gasped for breath. She did not know who was after them; it didn’t really matter anymore. The dark malevolent force that was always lurking at the edge of consciousness had raised its head once more and she, and Savage and Anja were all prey to it.

  Strangely, Savage and Anja showed no outward signs of distress. They both were alert, yet calm, and ready to act. The tables had been turned. Where she had been strong, they had seemed weak, and now that they were strong, she was the weak one.

  Savage sensed her discomfort and drew her against his body, sheltering her from the hunt.

  They stayed in the stairwell for what felt like hours, although it was probably only thirty minutes. Zora stood with her head pressed against Savage’s chest, listening to the steady slow beat of his heart.

  “I’m going to look after you,” he murmured softly. “Just do as I say and we’ll get through this.”

  She nodded, believing him. Savage had never let her down. Even when they’d been separated for months on end, he’d kept his promises. He’d come for her. If he said they’d get through it, they’d get through it.

  “Who are they?” she whispered the question against his chest. “Military? Mercenary? Tex’s people?”

  Savage shook his head, indicating that he either didn’t know or didn’t care to tell her. “Later,” he responded.

  It was cold up there, the only warmth was Savage’s body pressed against her. Zora shut her eyes and rested her forehead against the slab of muscle that was his chest. She’d hoped this sort of thing was over. She’d hoped that the freedom Savage had talked about had arrived. Even in the form of a dingy apartment in a dangerous neighborhood, it had been better than anything that had come before it.

  She realized that it had all been wishful thinking. Anja wasn’t paranoid, and Savage wasn’t overly protective. They were the ones reacting appropriately to the situation. She’d been sitting around with her head in the clouds - because she’d been protected, because Savage and Anja had taken the brunt of the stress and work upon themselves.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his chest.

  There was no response. Savage didn’t care about apologies, or self-inflicted guilt trips. He had only one thing on his mind - the preservation of their oh so tenuous freedom. Looking up at his hard face, only partially visible in the moonlight reflected off a nearby AC unit, Zora saw an expression of complete resolve - an expression that told her one thing. Come what may, they would not be captured again.

  Chapter Two

  The night passed in a blur of running then hiding, running, then hiding again. Savage and Anja moved according to signals and signs that Zora could not perceive. Every shadow, every sound seemed to mean something to them. Giving up on trying to detect any danger herself, she stuck as close to Savage’s heels as possible, keeping her head down and praying that she wouldn’t mess up and get them all caught. But even the simple task of keeping up with Savage and Anja seemed to be beyond her. More than once she was nudged, shoved or dragged away from or into some doorway, nook or cranny of another kind.

  For the umpteenth time that evening, a hard hand gripped her arm, manicured nails digging into her skin. Anja had pulled her to yet another abrupt halt and was peering at their surroundings through night vision goggles. Zora had tried them on once, but she'd found them to be fairly useless. There were all sorts of fiddly settings and for the most part they just made everything look as though it had been coated in neon green paint.

  In the hands, or rather over the eyes of an expert, they were incredibly useful. Zora gathered by hushed conversations between Savage and Anja that there was some sort of thermal imaging capacity built into the device, which was allowing them to see through walls and pick paths of least resistance. More than once they slipped by small units who were either looking for them or playing one of the longest and most tedious laser tag games Zora had ever seen.

  It had been a long time since Zora had experienced any jealousy over Anja, but seeing the way she and Savage worked together did give her little pangs. Those two were tight, not just as commander and commandee, but as comrades. They shared a bond she and Savage never could. It wasn't evident in everyday life, but in situations like these it became glaringly obvious.

  Dawn was breaking by the time they got to their destination – the rail yards in the industrial district. Of course! What a perfect place! There would surely be roadblocks set up to stop cars; and airports, with all their security, were entirely out of the question. But freight trains? Nobody was going to look for three fugitives there. Savage and Anja helped Zora into a half empty freight car and as the morning light began to break over the city, they chugged away into the great beyond.

  “Are you all right?” Savage's dark gaze fell on her.

  “Yeah,” Zora nodded in response to the first question directed at her since they'd started their run.

  Anja handed out water and some snack packs and they all refreshed themselves as the countryside sped by, visible through cracks and crevices in the old freight car.

  “So what now?”

  “Simple,” Savage said. “We go somewhere else and we start over.”

  “Oh.”

  Zora supposed it made sense. She didn't know what she'd expected him to say. What other option did they have really, but to keep on going?

  Nobody looked happy at the prospect. They were all very tired. Savage and Zora leaned against one wall together, Savage's strong arm draped over Zora's shoulders.

  Anja sat alone on the opposite side of the car, chewing a muesli bar slack-jawed. She stared into nothingness, looking quite empty.

  “Get some rest, ladies,” Savage suggested. “I'll take the first watch.”

  Zora wanted to take the first watch. All it involved was staying awake, which she felt she could probably do quite well. She wasn't good at running, or shooting, or hiding, but staying up was within her capabilities. In fact, being awake was pretty much all she could do to help.

  Resting her head against Savage's chest, she unfortunately lost the battle for consciousness before she could volunteer.

  ***

  When Zora woke, the train was still speeding along rails. She ope
ned her eyes to discover that she was lying in the now sleeping Savage's lap. Anja was up, keeping watch over the pair of them.

  It occurred to Zora yet again that Savage and Anja really didn't need her for much of anything. Superficially, they were the perfect couple, Savage dark and uber masculine, Anja pretty, bright blonde and with a body that would not quit. Anyone looking at the three of them would no doubt have assumed that Savage and Anja were a couple and Zora was perhaps Anja's unfortunate spinster sister.

  “You're frowning at me,” Anja said.

  “Sorry.” Zora rubbed her face. “I need to pee.”

  “There's a bottle in the corner.”

  Anja handed Zora a package containing a foldable, oval shaped pink plastic funnel.

  Zora twisted it in her hands, not knowing if it was some sort of high tech military device or breakfast.

  “What is this?”

  “She-pee,” Anja said. “You put it you know where and it channels the pee. So you can use the bottle.”

  “ A pee-nis,” Zora said, smirking. “Nice.”

  She made use of the bottle, which she noted had already been used. There was little dignity on the run. Peeing into one another's pee was just the tip of the iceberg.

  When she was done she capped the pee bottle. The pootle. No, that wasn't right. Pootle sounded like something else. Something she was starting to feel as if she rather needed to do as well.

  As if sensing her discomfort, Anja handed Zora a plastic bag. “I won't look.”

  “Oh god. Really?”

  Anja's eyes flicked over at Savage's softly snoring form. “Do it before he wakes up, unless you want to give him a show.”

  It was with a certain sense of horrified amusement that Zora made use of the plastic bag and the tissue Anja so kindly provided her. She tied it several times to try and block the smell, but the fumes rather filled the car.

  “I'll hold the door,” Anja said. “You put it out.”

  “But that's littering.”

  “We are not storing shit on board this thing,” Anja said pragmatically.

  Zora experienced yet another 'first' in her life - flinging a bag of excrement out of a moving train. Anja not only propped the door open, but placed a stabilizing hand on the belt of Zora's pants so that Zora didn't accidentally toss herself out too. Having caught a good amount of momentum, the bag whizzed out of Zora's hand, arced through the air and was caught on the bare branches of a dying tree, where its structural integrity was sorely compromised.

  “Probably should have just dropped it beside the track,” Anja said dryly.

  “Maybe,” Zora said. “Or maybe it's better this way. Harder to track down.”

  An uncharacteristic expression of amusement passed over Anja's face. “The people chasing us are not tracking us by our droppings.”

  “As far as you know,” Zora replied. “There's all sorts of technologies these days. Maybe they put stuff in the food, to track our movements after the flush. Maybe they can tell how many people go from Long Island to Manhattan every day just by examining flows in the sewage system.”

  Anja rolled her eyes and pushed the door of the freight car shut. “When are you going to start taking this situation seriously?”

  “I'm deadly serious,” Zora replied. “That's how I'd do it. People can get around all sorts of things, but they can't get around having to go.”

  “That is how you'd do what?” Savage's voice was croaky from sleep. He'd clearly woken up part way through Zora's inspired ideas for draconian mechanisms of social control.

  “Nothing,” Zora said.

  “Is she causing trouble?” Savage directed the question at Anja.

  “No, sir,” Anja replied swiftly.

  “Good.” Savage gave Zora an affectionate, though fairly stern look. “I didn't want to start the day by spanking you.”

  “Liar,” Zora grinned. “You were hoping I'd done something terrible.”

  “Well, it is early in the day,” Savage rumbled. “There's still plenty of time.”

  Zora crossed the carriage and went to her knees to give Savage a hug. Contact with his body was as good as taking a Valium. The moment his arms went around her, she felt tension drain out of her body.

  “Have you been good?” he rumbled the question into her hair.

  “I've been perfect.”

  Her statement most likely would have been challenged, but for Anja's timely interruption.

  “Coffee, boss?”

  Anja had a butane cooker out and was preparing to boil some water.

  “Sure.”

  It was Zora who answered her, taking the moniker of 'boss' right out of Savage's hands, for a brief moment at least.

  “Thank you, Anja,” Savage said, shaking his head warningly at Zora. “What's our situation?”

  “We're on a train in the middle of nowhere,” Zora kindly informed him.

  “Zora, darling, sit down and be quiet before I gag you,” Savage said, effectively cutting Zora out of the conversation.

  She slumped down against the far wall, near the pee bottle and watched as Anja and Savage discussed their next move. They did not consult with her at all, though she was given a share of the coffee, and another breakfast ration. She chewed glumly whilst all manner of jargon was thrown about, much of it going completely over her head.

  Feeling as if her life were much like the railcar being pushed along by forces it could not at all control, Zora began to get more than a little irritable.

  “I know,” she said, interrupting Savage and Anja's conversation. “Let's join the circus. Savage can be the bearded lady, Anja can be a lion tamer and I'll sell toffee apples.”

  Savage's eyes slid over to her, his expression dour. “You're not helping.”

  “No, I'm always the problem, never the solution,” Zora snapped.

  “Then close your mouth and listen,” Savage said, keeping hold of his patience. “You need to know all of this too.”

  “I don't understand it,” she replied. “You're not speaking English. You're speaking some kind of military jargon.”

  “Very well,” Savage said. “Here's the plan. We're going to head south, cross the border into Mexico and keep going.”

  “Mexico? Why? We're a lot closer to Canada.”

  “Two main reasons,” he said, his handsome dark eyes settling on her. “One, there isn't nearly the level of surveillance in Mexico as there is here or in Canada. There just isn't the infrastructure for it. Two, it's a stepping stone to another destination further south.”

  “Ecuador?” Zora named the first place south of Mexico that popped into her head.

  “Something like that,” Savage said, his cheek dimpling with amusement.

  “Are we going to live in the jungle?” Zora was rather excited by the prospect. “They have rainforests down there. Proper rainforests. They'd never find us there.”

  “Well, they might,” Savage said. “But you're correct enough. There are still places in the world where three people can easily disappear forever.”

  “Bolivia! Like Butch Cassidy,” Zora enthused.

  “Well, Butch was killed in Bolivia,” Savage reminded her. “So hopefully not too much like him.”

  “Oh, right.” Zora frowned to herself. “Why do so many of those stories end with a body?”

  “Because life ends with a body,” Anja said. She did not sound gloomy, but her words were certainly depressing. “None of us will escape with our lives in the end.”

  “In the end, yes,” Savage said. “Our job is prolonging that end for as long as possible.”

  Zora found herself feeling more than a little concerned about the pretty lady. Anja really wasn't right in the head anymore. Oh, she was capable. Very capable, but whenever there was a lull in the action, things would start to come out. Dark things.

  Zora had not forgotten that at one stage, all Anja had wanted in the whole wide world was to put a bullet between her eyes. A lot had happened in the interim, but Zora knew she'd never
fully trust Anja again. It wasn't even Anja's fault. There was something cracked in her gaze, a fault line in her personality that just kept grinding away. Someday it would rupture. Zora sure as heck didn't want to be near her when it did.

  Savage cleared his throat. “Are we all on the same page?”

  “Not quite,” Zora said. “Far as I know, the border with Mexico is either heavily guarded, or a desert wasteland. Are we going to try to waltz past a border guard? Or dodge the psychos out shooting illegals in the desert?”

  “Something like that,” Savage repeated his earlier statement. He didn't seem to have a specific plan. He also didn't seem to care that he didn't have a plan.

  Zora stared at him and shook her head. “Are you... are you actually enjoying yourself?”

  “It's a beautiful day and we have the whole world at our feet,” Savage said. “I won't pretend I'm sorry to get a break from slinging pizza either.”

  “If this was all an elaborate plot to get out of work...” Zora trailed off, wagging her finger at him.

  He chuckled, and he was so damn handsome it made her heart hurt. God, she hoped nothing ever happened to him. After all they'd been though, she was sure she'd rather die than be separated from him again.

  The thought made her throat feel tight. Tears sprang to her eyes. She blinked them back as she scooted across the car and cuddled up by his side. He welcomed her by wrapping an arm around her and holding her close as Anja, ever the workhorse, began packing up their things.

  They ditched the train at the next station, a small freight depot attached to a small town, which completely suited their needs. It wasn't a whole lot more than the depot with two smelly bathrooms attached and in the distance, a little township.

  As soon as they'd scuttled off the railcar unseen, Savage sent Anja and Zora into one of the bathrooms and cloistered himself in the other.

  It turned out that they were not being sent to go potty. They were being sent to change. Not just their clothes, but also their entire outward appearance. There was a change of clothing in each of their bags, and Anja was carrying a box of black hair dye, which she shoved across to Zora.