“Please, Wally,” Devlin pleaded, “please hang in there.”
More blood rattled in Brisco’s throat. He produced what might have been a laugh. “You want to hear the good news?”
“Yes,” the scientist replied as she prayed that the EMTs would arrive. “Tell me some good news.”
“I won't have to pay my rent,” Brisco replied. Then he was gone.
***
Denver, Colorado
It was around 3:00 AM when someone began to bang on Palmer's door. He was already awake when the racket started, laying on his back, and thinking about Devlin. Palmer figured the person in the hallway was a drunk. Or some idiot trying to enter the wrong room.
But when the noise continued he swung his feet over onto the floor, stood, and padded to the door. When he looked through the peephole he saw Cooper. Wearing sunglasses at night. Palmer swore and opened the door. “What the hell do you want?”
“I want you to be dressed, packed, and ready to leave for the airport in ten minutes,” Cooper replied as he brushed past and entered the room.
“Why?” Palmer demanded, as Cooper turned a lamp on.
“Because of this,” Cooper replied as he removed a tiny recorder from a coat pocket and pressed a button.
Palmer recognized Devlin's voice right away. “Hello,” she said. “Who is this? It's 1:30 in the morning for god's sake.”
Palmer glared at Cooper. “You tapped her phone!”
“Of course we tapped her phone,” Cooper responded. “Now shut up and listen.”
So Palmer listened. He didn't know Brisco. But he remembered Devlin talking about the boy. Palmer felt a growing sense of alarm as the youth spoke about his injuries, something called 'the crop circle,' and exploding people. Then the conversation was over. “What happened? Did the medics arrive in time?”
“No, they didn't,” Cooper answered. “But that isn't the point.”
“It isn't?”
“No. Weren't you paying attention? The Chinese are involved. We thought they might be and this confirms it. So stop standing around and get dressed.”
“Okay,” Palmer agreed, as he went over to the closet. “But where are we going? And why?”
“We're flying to Seattle. Maybe the Chinese know about Sara and maybe they don't. Either way we need to get her off the street. And, since she doesn't like me, I'm taking you along. Maybe she'll listen to reason.”
Palmer knew Sara didn't like him either, but wasn't about to say so, since Cooper might leave him behind if he did. His mind was racing as he got dressed. “What are the Chinese looking for? Why would they want Sara?”
Cooper lit a cigarette. “You sell meteorites to collectors, right? Same idea. They're building a collection. And that my friend is step one.”
Palmer placed his suitcase on the bed and began to fill it. “And step two?”
“They will try to weaponize the parasite,” Cooper predicted darkly. “Or, and this is the one that keeps me awake at night, they already have.”
“And our government?” Palmer inquired cynically. “Sara told me all about Catherine Harris and her daughter. What was that about?”
Cooper's eyes were hard and cold. “That was about protecting the United States of America. And so is this. Hurry up.”
***
Seattle, Washington
Tires screeched as the Gulfstream V touched down at Seattle's Boeing airfield and taxied to the terminal. Two black SUVs were waiting to receive the incoming passengers. “Don't worry about your bag,” Cooper said, as Palmer got up. “It will be at the hotel waiting for you.”
Palmer nodded and followed Cooper down a short flight of roll-up stairs to the point where four men and two women were waiting. All of them were dressed in black, and judging from the bulges under their jackets, were armed. There were introductions followed by a briefing from team leader Hernandez. He had a thick shock of black hair, serious eyes, and a stocky build. “Based on information obtained from our phone tap we know the subject plans to meet with her attorney at 1500 hours this afternoon. We'll be waiting as she exits the building.”
Cooper nodded approvingly. “Nice and clean. I like that. Mr. Palmer is a friend of hers. He will walk up and engage Miss Devlin in conversation while the rest of us close in. Due to her deteriorating physical condition we may need an ambulance.”
“We have one on standby,” Hernandez replied.
“Excellent. Let's roll.”
Palmer felt a sense of anticipation mixed with apprehension as he entered the second Lincoln Navigator and it carried him onto I-5 and north to Seattle. He wanted to see Sara, talk to her, and hold her in his arms. But if that wasn't possible maybe he could protect her.
There had been no response to the gift he'd sent. So she was still upset with him. Or something was. If Devlin was even partially under the parasite's control there was no way to know what her true feelings were. Of course it was unlikely that the real Devlin would approve of what he was about to do.
Yet what other choice did he have? It seemed as if she was becoming less rational with each passing day. Evidence for which could be seen in her decision to withdraw five-thousand dollars from the bank the day before. In cash. A fact that Cooper had shared with him during the flight from Denver.
And what was up with Cooper anyway? The agent had gone to some lengths to drive a wedge between Sara and himself in New York. Now he was bringing them back together. For the government? Or for some other reason?
At that point a new thought occurred to Palmer. What if Cooper had feelings for Devlin? That would explain his attempt to submarine her relationship with another man. And his efforts to protect her from danger. Palmer turned to look at Cooper as the Lincoln left I-5 and entered downtown. The agent's window was partway down to let the cigarette smoke escape. He was wearing sunglasses so there was no way to evaluate what emotions if any the other man was experiencing.
Attorney Marvin Leander's office was located in the building at 720 Olive. The Seattle Police Department had made arrangements for the SUVs to park a block away. Palmer was impressed by the quiet no-nonsense manner in which Cooper's agents reviewed the plan, secured their vehicles, and made their way up the street.
They were early, in case Devlin was early, and Palmer had never been so nervous. Not even in Afghanistan on the eve of a battle. “Okay,” Cooper said, as they arrived in front of the building. “Let's do this. Remember, all you have to do is walk up and talk to her. We'll handle the rest.”
“What about side exits?”
“They're covered.”
Palmer nodded and left the team in order to position himself closer to the front door. Having placed himself where he could see everyone who came and went the waiting began.
***
Devlin struggled to maintain her focus as she said goodbye and left Leander's office. She was in need of help and knew it. But each time she tried to phone Palmer, or to email Dr. Wilson, the parasite gave her a splitting headache. How did it know? Did it have the capacity to read her mind? Or deduce her intentions?
The answer appeared to be yes. The day before, while taking money out of the bank, the parasite had rewarded her with a very powerful orgasm. Something that was both embarrassing and frightening.
Such were Devlin's thoughts as she exited the elevator, squinted her eyes against the outside light, and pushed a door open. Cold air hit her in the face. Then Devlin saw what she assumed to be a hallucination as Palmer came forward to meet her. “Sara! How are you?”
She felt a surge of pleasure. Palmer cared. Palmer was there. And she wanted to be with him more than anything else in the world. She knew that now. But the parasite didn't approve of that emotion. It wanted to cut its host off from any person who could influence her. So it punished Devlin. The pain was so intense that she brought both hands up to her head.
In spite of the pain she realized that all of her senses were more acute than normal. She could smell Palmer's aftershave from six feet away. She could
hear the beating of his heart. And she could see the people who were closing in from all sides. One of whom was agent Cooper. “So nothing has changed,” Devlin said bitterly, as she began to back away. “I couldn't trust you then—and I can't trust you now.”
***
“No,” Palmer said desperately. “It isn't like that. We're going to help. We're trying to...”
But Devlin had turned her back on him by then and was already pushing her way through the front doors. “She reentered the building,” Cooper said into his lip mike. “Watch the side doors.”
Palmer ran after Devlin, collided with a man in the lobby, and mumbled an apology as a set of elevator doors closed. Had she gone down? Yes, he thought so. But how far? And what if she switched to an up elevator?
One of the female agents spoke through the plug in Palmer's ear. “She left through the loading dock access door.”
“Grab her,” Cooper instructed.
“I can't! She took a van. “It says ABC plumbing on the side.”
“Then shoot her,” Hernandez said coldly.
Palmer was back on the street by then. He turned the corner and ran west toward the Greyhound bus station. He saw a white van pull out as an agent raised her weapon. Palmer threw himself forward, tackled the woman, and brought her down. Hernandez arrived seconds later. “You fool! What are you doing?”
“You were going to shoot her!” Palmer objected hotly, as he got to his feet.
“Devlin is a confirmed carrier,” Cooper said coldly, as he joined the group. “If we have to shoot her, we will. But, before we get our shorts in a knot, let's remember that we still have the means to track her. She'll make a cell phone call. And when she does we'll be ready.”
Palmer wasn't sure what to believe. Would Cooper shoot Devlin? Or was he trying to protect her? There was only one person he could trust and that was himself.
***
More than three hours had passed since Devlin had abandoned the stolen van and hurried away. She was picking her way through a long, dark tunnel when the bright light struck her from behind. It threw a long spindly shadow a hundred yards down the shiny tracks. The light was followed by the raw blare of a horn as Devlin stepped to the right and the train roared past.
She was safe, but just barely, because there wasn’t much room between the track and the tunnel wall. So there was nothing Devlin could do but stand and wait as a wave of hot air washed over her body. There was a cacophony of noise as a freight cars rattled, rumbled, and thundered by. Then, just as suddenly as the heart-pounding assault had begun, it was over.
The incident with the train was just the latest in a series of close calls that had driven the scientist into the strange half-lit never-never land of tracks, tunnels, and yards through which the steel monsters moved. Devlin felt safe from government agents now. But knew there were other dangers.
Making a bad situation worse was the fact that educated though she was Devlin had none of the skills appropriate to her new environment. Only a continuing desire to head southeast. Not to Arizona. Or Texas. But to a south she couldn’t put a name to. But doing so was important. Terribly important.
And that was the problem. Because with tracks going every which way, and trains coming and going, Devlin was at a loss to know which way to go as she emerged from a tunnel into an open yard. Pole-mounted lamps threw circles of light down onto piles of ties, nameless sheds, and rail cars parked in what looked like random locations. The wind found Devlin as she trudged along, pushed its way in through the weave of her clothing, and nipped at her skin. It was cold, dangerously cold, especially for someone wearing street clothes.
So, when she spotted the fire underneath an underpass, it was like a beacon in the night. Because a fire meant warmth, the presence of people, and a way to obtain some much needed information. But she didn't want to go because danger lurked there. Yet as Devlin cut across the yard and made her way toward the beckoning flames something made her feel good. The parasite? Yes, of course. Now she knew how it had been for McCracken.
Three men were sitting around the fire drinking as Devlin approached them. Eyes glittered as she arrived at the outer edge of the fire’s circle of warmth, and simply stood there. Like a customer waiting to be seated in a restaurant. And, if that wasn’t strange enough, the newcomer’s fashionable clothing definitely set her apart. “Hey,” one of the men said, “that’s a nice pair of high heels. Welcome to the party.”
That was sufficient to elicit guffaws from the other hobos. Finally, as the laughter began to fade, Devlin spoke. “I need food.”
That produced another round of merriment. “Sure,” the man with black watch cap said easily. “You can have some of our stew, providing you give us something in return. And I know what I want!”
“I have money,” Devlin said inflectionlessly, as she wrestled a roll of currency out of her purse. Where had it come from? Oh, yes, the bank. The withdrawal seemed long ago. “Will twenty-dollars be enough?”
There was a moment of silence as the tramps stared at what was obviously more money than all of them had seen in the past five years. One of the men was wearing a beat-up cowboy hat. He was the first person to react. “That’ll be a good start,” he said encouragingly. “Come have a seat…. Would you like a drink?”
Prior to being infected Devlin would have been unable to detect the subtle click as the cowboy thumbed the knife open and held it out of sight. But her hearing was better now. A lot better. The money went back into her purse as she backed away. That brought the other two up off their improvised seats.
There was a thump as something sailed out of the surrounding darkness to land right in the middle of the campfire. A column of sparks exploded upwards. The man in the black watch cap said, “What the hell?” and the cowboy was in the process of turning away when the gasoline bomb exploded.
The third hobo had the bad fortune to get sprayed with the flaming liquid, and was busy trying to beat the flames out, when a teenage boy dashed out of the darkness to grab Devlin's wrist. “Run!”
So she ran. Or tried to. But her high heels made that difficult. The boy led her under the overpass and between two strings of stationary rail cars. As they passed a maintenance shed Devlin heard the rumble of a powerful engine. “Come on!” the teenager shouted. “That's a yard engine. It won’t take us far. Only a mile or so. But that’ll be enough to leave those hobos behind.”
Though stronger than she had ever been before Devlin was hard pressed to match the lanky teenager’s agility as he led her up and through an open box car, under a neighboring tanker, and out into the open where every surface was glazed with blue-green light.
She paused to remove the high heels and throw them away before continuing in her bare feet. The gravel hurt. As did occasional bits of broken glass. But then she felt fine as the parasite began to squirt painkillers into her bloodstream. “Come on.” the teenager shouted. Hurry!”
A locomotive thumped and metal clanked as a yard engine towed a string of box cars through a maze of crisscrossing tracks. The train was only moving at about ten-mph as they ran next to it. “Grab the ladder,” the youngster instructed. “And climb up.”
That was easier said than done. But Devlin managed to accomplish the feat and was soon climbing hand-over-hand so that her rescuer would have room below. Her purse got in the way at times but hung from a strap. “Not bad!” the boy yelled, as the box car jerked and swayed. “We’ll make a train hopper out of you yet.”
Eventually, after ordering Devlin to drop off the boxcar, the boy led Devlin up a slippery concrete slope to a ledge that was sheltered by the bridge above. Judging from all the litter the concrete cave had been used many times before. “We can’t start a fire,” the teenager explained. “Because that would attract trouble. But what we can do is lay down on that big piece of cardboard. Then we'll spoon-up with my blanket on top. When daylight comes we'll sort everything out. Okay?”
Words were increasingly difficult. So Devlin nodded and lay down
on the piece of cardboard. She was exhausted and ready to try anything. The boy fit his body to hers, the blanket settled over them, and the cold began to recede. Not enough to actually feel warm. But enough to fall into a troubled sleep in spite of the occasional rumble of diesel engines.
When morning came, and Devlin awoke, she felt even colder than before. And then, with a start, she realized that the boy was gone. She sat up, threw the blanket off, and fumbled for her purse. The roll of currency was missing.
The boy's duffle bag was there however which made the scientist feel a little better. But not by much since he might have chosen to abandon it. Her feet were caked with dried blood and blue with cold. She hurried to wrap the blanket around them and struggled to clear her mind.
It wasn’t easy. The deep yearning kept getting in the way. The parasite wanted to move. But how? Devlin knew the government could track debit cards, credit cards, and bank withdrawals. Even cell phones. So what could she do?
The conflict between what the parasite wanted to do, and what was possible, produced a flood of despair. And that, like all of her emotions, was amplified somehow. The scientist was sobbing when a cheerful voice was heard. “Hey, lady, I’m baaack!”
There were scuffling sounds as the youngster battled his way up the steep slope. When he appeared at the top Devlin saw that he was carrying a fully loaded pack plus a plastic bag that was dangling from his left wrist.
“There,” he said, as he scooted forward. “Safe and sound. Whoa, what’s wrong lady? Oh, you thought I took your money. Well, I certainly could have,” the boy added sternly, as he lowered the groceries to the ground. “You’ll need to be a lot more careful now that you’re a tramp. Take last night for example. Never pull money out where other people can see it. Not even a five-dollar bill. People get killed for less.
“Here,” the young man said, as he wrestled the roll out of a pants pocket and gave it over. “It’s all there. Except for $316.04 that is, which I spent to set you up.
“The pack is used,” he explained, as he placed the object in front of her. “And that's good. ‘Cause a new one would attract the wrong sort of attention. Once you open it up you’ll find two sets of clothes, plus some socks, and a decent pair of boots. I had to guess at the size. But we'll trade ‘em in if I was wrong. And there’s first aid stuff too—so we can treat those cuts.
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