by Mark Eller
Aaron heard a double thud. Benson's body sagged limply and slipped back into the opening, scraping two rungs as he dropped further. Hands caught his limp body and pulled him back up.
Aaron stumbled back from the opening. One leg twisted and bent painfully. He fell awkwardly backwards to land on his butt. Jerking his eyes around, Aaron desperately searched for a weapon. There was nothing he could use except the chairs, the pans, and the chess set.
"You can come up now." Sarah's head filled the opening. The smile she flashed when she saw him sitting on his butt was relieved and amused, but her eyes were wary as she searched for others.
Aaron stood painfully while relief surged through him. With her hair tangled and her face covered with dirt, Sarah was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
"Gods," he whispered. "I was so scared for you." He limped forward so he could be nearer. Her eyes grew big when she saw his curled arm and limping gait.
"Oh, love!" She clambered down the ladder almost faster than he could blink. "What did they do to you?" She touched his arm gently.
Aaron wrapped his good arm around her, pulled himself into her embrace, and pulled her head down to bury it on his shoulder. A relieved laugh caught in his throat. He fought it back.
"I was so scared for you," he whispered feelingly. "I kept seeing you lost, and hurt, and dying, and I couldn't--" He clutched her tighter. Her arms cradled him gently.
"I'm fine, darling," she whispered into his shoulder. "It was you I was worried about. I spent five days hiding after I killed that monster with the folding knife you gave me, and every one of those days I was scared of what they were doing to you. Perk and Kit found me, and then we found you."
Aaron raised his head, unbelieving. "Perkins is dead. She died."
"The hell I died." Perk and Kit both stood beside him. "It takes more than a broken back and a few other broken bones to kill me. After they scraped me off the pavement them docs had me glued together before the day was finished, and they released me six days later."
Perk grinned like a maniac. Aaron pulled away from Sarah and grabbed soundlessly at the other two women.
"I waited for Perk to get herself free," Kit said. "Remember, my Talent is finding, so I knew where she was the entire time. After she was released from the hospital I walked through most of the city until I reached her home, and then the two of us went after Sarah because she was closer than you. Aaron, what did they do to you?" She pushed at him until he was an arm's length away and gave him the once over. "You're a mess."
"You don't need to worry about him," Perk interjected. "He looked this way when I first met him."
"There is a machine in my back," Aaron told them. "A lot of wires run from it to my brain and spine. When we were in government hands they cut me open and disconnected the machine and that allowed me to look normal again. When the Militia caught me they put it all back together again so I went back to being this way. After we transfer back to the other side I'll be as you remember me. Some of the natural laws are different over there so the machine doesn't work like it is supposed to. That's why it doesn't twist me up like this in Isabella."
"Why did they do this to you?" Sarah looked angry enough to kill.
Aaron smiled at her. Gods, she looked good. Even scratched and dirty and stinking, she looked terrific. They all looked terrific.
"I think it changes the focus of my Talent," he said. "When the machine was unhooked I was able to transfer from one place to another on this planet. I could do it without using much energy, and without having to wait long periods between jumps. When it is hooked in properly I can only transport between points on the separated planets, which is good because once the drugs in me wear off I can take us back home."
"They did this to you so they could invade my home?" Kit looked angrier than Sarah. "Aaron, how could you agree to let them do this to you?"
Aaron shook his head. "Uh-uh. I never did agree to it. Was too young at the time. You see, I was in an accident when I was ten, and by chance, the man in the bed next to mine was the only other traveler the Militia has ever found. Since he recognized something in me that Field wanted, the Militia paid for my operations and assumed my care. My parents were more than happy to get out of the financial burden." His voice lowered. "The original operations actually left me much worse than this. It was years before I could walk again, and I never did learn to walk well. Every doctor I spoke to told me that I had inoperable spinal damage. They cut on me a lot over the years, and it wasn't until a few days ago that I discovered they had implanted a transmitter and explosives."
Perk grabbed his head and stared him in the eye. "Aaron, no spinal damage is permanent. I had a friend whose entire spine was replaced. Nowadays they can grow new ones that are better than the one you were born with."
The other women appeared confused. Perk talked quickly for several minutes before they had a glimmer of the miracles that medicine and science could produce. During the conversation Aaron discovered that he did not know it all either. Apparently, the militia had ensured that he remain ignorant.
When the explanations were finished he needed help climbing the ladder. Though he would have preferred transferring over to the other world right then, he could not because Benson's last shot was not due to wear off until the next day. In fact, so far as Aaron knew, it might be two or more days before he was once again functional.
If the shack had looked bad before, it was a disaster area now. Holes were torn in the walls. Most of the floorboards were gone, dirt was removed, and cement was bare to the eye. The water barrel and the pig were gone. Only the pivoted cement slab remained. Two short rods protruded from the cement, triggers for its opening.
The old man and Benson lay tied in the center of a pile of dirt. Hank glared hatred at the women. Benson looked betrayed.
"Put them in the hole," Aaron heartlessly said. "Somebody will be out this way in a few days. If not, there are enough supplies to last them for years."
The two prisoners were untied and sent below. Just to make sure they did not spend an eternity down there, Aaron wrote a note and tacked it on the broken door. When the Militia came to visit they would check the bunker.
Aaron followed the women out of the shack, drew in a deep breath, looked up the two-track trail, looked down the trail, and grabbed Perk's arm as Kit and Sarah walked around the shack's side. "Where is the car?"
Perk squinted her eyes and peered south. After a moment, she pointed. "About four miles that way, as best I recollect. All we had was my taxi, and its suspension wasn't tough enough to come this far."
Aaron took stock of his trembling legs and shuddered. "Then we better start walking."
"Nope," Kit said. She stepped back into view with Sarah at her side. They pulled a long contraption of sticks and rope behind them. "We walk; you ride. We figured you might be in bad shape, so we made plans." She nodded at the contraption. "This here is a travois. Get on, and we'll pull you."
Aaron eyed the thing. Two long branches were held about thirty inches apart by smaller branches and rope. Apparently, the idea was for him to climb onto the thing, let the women pick up the front end, and get dragged.
"I'll walk," he said emphatically.
He rode.
Two hours later Perk pulled brush off the hidden taxi. Sara and Kit set the travois handles down with relieved sighs.
Sarah gave Aaron a long stare. "Have you gained weight?"
"Not an ounce," Aaron assured her. He studied the three sweat streaming faces. Every one of the women seemed a bit whiff. "You all look tuckered."
"Try dragging a hundred and forty pounds of dead weight for four miles, and see how you feel," Kit muttered.
Aaron looked at Perk. "I offered to walk. Did you hear me offer to walk?"
"You wouldn't have made it," Perk said tiredly.
"Maybe not," Aaron agreed, "but I did offer." For some reason, he felt amazingly good. "Is there any wine in the taxi?"
"NO," all three women
said at once.
Not long afterwards they rolled down the road, traveling the way God meant man to travel--on wheels. Aaron stayed crouched on the taxi floor when they passed an A-frame cabin. Sarah and Kit waved happily to a couple planting flowers. Once past, Sarah pulled him up onto the back seat and placed him between her and Kit. She kept him pressed against her side. Her hand reached out to touch him as if she sought reassurance that he was still there. Leaning against the far door, Kit's eyes would not leave his face. Nervous, Aaron reached across to lock her door. The last thing he wanted was for the door to spring open and for Kit to go falling out of the cab. He thought about making the women put on their seat belts but decided that nothing would convince them to restrain their ability to move when they felt surrounded by enemies.
The drive was slow. The taxi was not made for travel over unpaved roads so its suspension kept bottoming out as it bounced over ruts and roots. By the time they reached a decent road, Aaron's legs and arm were a constant throb of pain, and the taxi's undercarriage rattled dangerously.
"Gawd damn thing is going to fall apart in the middle of nowhere," Perk muttered. "Going to cost a fortune to fix it right."
"If you don't find someplace to stop soon, this seat is going to need a good cleaning," Kit told her.
Muttering quiet curses, Perk pulled into a service station that was all too familiar to Aaron. Kit was out the door before the taxi came to a complete stop when Perk pulled into a battery recharge bay. The boy waiting beside the recharge cables smirked a bit when he saw the cab, but then his expression changed when he spied Aaron sitting in the back. His eyes jerked towards the store window where the female clerk sat, and then he gave Aaron a knowing smile.
"I'll have this baby charged in no time," he promised, and gestured to an idle serviceman. "Dave, this cab needs some work. Get the windows, and I'll grease up the bearings."
Before Perk could say aye or nay they had the fast charger hooked up and were washing down the cab. The entire procedure took less than fifteen minutes, which was longer than Perk needed to relocate her fallen jaw. Looking considerably relieved, Kit returned halfway through the recharge.
Finished, the servicemen approached the window for their pay.
"Give them an extra ten," Aaron told Perk. "Each."
Perk fumbled out the money, handed it to the attendants, and looked over her shoulder at Aaron. "Made quite an impression when I dropped you off here, didn't you?"
"Apparently word got around that I tip big," Aaron told her. He looked at Dave. "Is there someplace to eat around here?"
"Most places are closed," Dave said, "it being a holiday and all. There's a greasy spoon about two blocks down the road, but it's not anyplace I would recommend. In my opinion it should be shut down, only the inspector is the restaurant owner's uncle. Matter of fact, one member of their family or another owns most of this town."
"My stomach isn't very particular right now," Aaron said. "It just wants food."
Perk stopped at the greasy spoon located not too far from the service station. Aaron thought the place was perfect for their purposes. Its exterior was run down and dirty. Old cars and Electra Bikes decorated the parking lot, indicating that their ragged appearances and less than odor free bodies would not seem out of place here. In a more respectable eatery their disrepair might draw unwanted attention. The Militia would not be looking for Aaron yet, but the government would be, and unlike the Militia, the government knew about Sarah and Kit.
The restaurant was small, seating only twenty people at five bench tables and another eight at the curved counter. The vinyl covering on most of the burnt orange chairs was torn and stuffing peeked boldly from the rips. The cheap faux wood tables were cracked and canted on an angle indicating that the owner had either found a manufacturer incapable of building a level table, or the place had a very uneven floor. Cooking smells and cigarette smoke filled the air in a haze too thick for the single popping smoke-eater to handle. Scattered across the floor was a literal carpet of stale cigarette butts.
After looking at the crowd of street toughs and wannabes, seeing a woman dressed in stained leather with the hair shaved from half her head and a pair of jobless truckers hunched over coffee, Aaron lost any worries he might have entertained about government agents eating here.
The waitress had stained hands and chipped nail polish. The menus she handed them were seven items long. Aaron peeked at what the other patrons were eating and recommended that everyone order a dry ham sandwich.
When the food came he almost regretted his decision. The ham was old, heavy with gristle and quite tasteless. The bread was dry, and the coffee was undrinkably bitter. Another look around showed that, yes, this really was the best choice. Everything else appeared considerably worse.
Their waitress brought them their bill after they nibbled on the edible parts of their sandwiches. When Aaron asked about a restroom she pointed to a doorway where two young toughs, laughing loudly while their hands slapped together in a congratulatory manner, were just exiting.
"Only got the one, honey," the waitress said. "Men and women both." She smiled an open lip smile, showing that three of her front teeth were missing. "Usually some of each in there. Lots of times there is some business going on, if you know what I mean."
Kit looked at Sarah. "Perk. Watch over our things. Aaron is not going in there alone." She patted the back of his hand. "Don't worry, dear. Sarah will turn her back."
"Should have gone at the station," Perk muttered.
Sarah helped him up and led the way.
As expected, the bathroom was filthy. Grime covered the walls, and the stale urine ammonia smell was strong enough to kick a person's eyes out. The only urinal was filled to overflowing; a puddle covered the floor in front of it. Passing it up, Aaron entered the first of two stalls and found that it was even worse than the urinal, almost. Standing back two feet when he did his business, he was not too concerned at all about missing his target. No one else had worried about it, so why should he? When he finished he looked down at the yellow, wet floor and allowed his eyes to follow the growing flood. It lay in front of his stool, flowed toward him, and then veered to run beneath the wall of the second stall. The urine stopped three inches past a pair of bare feet, small with multiple scabs covering their surface. As Aaron looked at them, a drop of blood landed beside one foot. Another drop fell, mixing with the yellow pool.
Faces twisted in disgust, Kit and Sarah still stood guard when he left his stall. He gestured toward them and then jerked open the other stall door.
The young woman inside was naked, battered, used. Any clothing she had once worn was missing or stolen because none of it lay near her. Bruises decorated her arms, breasts, stomach and thighs. Scratches ran down her left breast, and her lips were mashed and bleeding. One eye was closed; the other glazed as she looked at them. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she rallied when she saw them.
"A dollar?" she asked hopefully. "Fi' cens?"
"What happened to the money I gave you before?" Aaron gently asked.
"Money?" She struggled to focus her vision. "I know you."
"We met outside the service station. I gave you a lot of money."
She tried to smile and failed. "Nice. Mamma war happy. Gone now. Mamma nee more. Dollar?"
Sarah stepped past him, a wet, filthy cloth towel in her hands. Stooping, she began cleaning the girl as best she could. "Some things about your world are not good, Aaron."
"Yeah. Well, it's not my world. Not anymore."
Sarah straightened. "Kit?"
Kit had pulled out Benson's gun. "How does this thing work?"
Sarah shrugged. "We won't need it. Give it to Aaron." Straightening, she waited until Aaron slipped the gun into his waistband before handing him the bloody towel.
"Love, would you rinse this out for me, and then finish cleaning her up?" With a quick flick of her hand, she reached into her pocket as she moved away from him. Aaron heard a click of her spring-loaded knif
e opening before she opened the door and left with Kit following close on her heels.
Aaron dropped the towel over the chipped stall partition and hobbled after them, exiting out of the bathroom door just in time to see Kit hand the waitress a large wad of money.
"Dinner and damages," she said to the bewildered woman.
Rushing behind the counter, the waitress stuffed the money into a slot in the safe.
Watching the room, Sarah opened her knife, closed it and opened it once more.
Every eye fastened on either the waitress stuffing cash into the safe or on the woman who had given it to her. Smiles formed when the realization struck that somebody who had that much to give away was sure to have more.
Chairs scraped and six tattooed men and women stood up. One of the men Aaron had seen leaving the restroom gestured for the others to close in on him. In Aaron's estimation the man stood at least six inches over six feet and weighed more than three hundred pounds. Most likely, he was not the smartest of the group, but his sheer brawn ensured that he was the leader.
"Bitch, this is your lucky day. I got just what you need, and you get to pay me for it."
Nodding in full agreement, Sarah spoke in carefully modulated tones. "Yes, I think there is some payment due. There is a young girl in the restroom who has been beaten and raped. She is in need of clothes."
Another man spat. "Hell, you mean Mary? She wasn't raped. We paid her a dollar. That's what, fifteen, twenty cents each. Tell you what. We'll give her your clothes when we're done with you. That should make you feel better." He moved forward, carefully watching her knife. The others closed in. With a sudden move he reached for Sarah, shifted, and grabbed for Kit.
It was a mistake.
Kit jabbed a finger into his eye, spat in his face, and kicked him in the crotch so hard his feet left the floor. He screamed, dropped, and lay on the floor, writhing and clutching both his crotch and face. The others backed up and looked at each other. Without a word, they pulled out chains and knives and spread out to give each other room. Several tables were kicked out of the way. Sarah calmly slammed her heel into the screaming man's head. He quieted.
