by Tarah Benner
“We gotta get outta here!” Axel bellowed. “Come on!”
“Oh god,” Simjay moaned, fumbling for the rifle slung across his lap. Conrad was already hanging half outside the passenger-side window, preparing to shoot anyone who came close to the vehicle.
“Portia . . .” said Lark.
“I’m not leaving without her!” Bernie cried.
“Are you people deaf or jus’ plain stupid? We have — to go!” Axel yelled.
At that moment, another gunshot erupted from the house, and Simjay jumped as it struck a nearby tree.
“Fuck!” Soren breathed, opening the car door and pushing Lark toward the back seat. She dug in her heels.
“Come on!” Soren growled, feeling desperate.
“I’m not —”
“GO! We’ll split up. You guys go ahead. Me and Axel’ll find Portia.”
“What now?” called Axel.
“No!” Lark cried.
“Go to the Baileys’,” said Soren, his voice low and urgent. He had to make her understand.
“We’re not splitting up,” said Lark.
“We have to.” Soren was desperate. He couldn’t risk losing her.
“I’m coming with you,” said Lark.
“No,” said Soren. “The more of us there are, the more likely we’ll get caught.”
“But —”
Lark faltered. He knew she didn’t like it, but it was the only way. Bernie would never agree to abandon Portia, and Lark wouldn’t leave without Bernie.
“Axel, get out,” Soren ordered, squeezing Lark’s hand and pulling her toward the driver’s seat.
“What?”
“Get out!”
Axel let out a groan of irritation but did what he was told. Soren pushed Lark into the driver’s seat, and this time she didn’t put up a fight. The sound of the engine was growing closer and closer. They were running out of time.
Just then, the porch light flickered on. It flooded the car with light and illuminated Lark’s face. Soren had never seen her so torn.
“You have the seed,” she said. “If anything happens —”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Soren croaked. “Now go!”
It was a mark of how desperate their situation was that Lark didn’t argue anymore. She climbed in and slammed the car door, peeling down the road in a cloud of dust.
4
Soren
Soren and Axel took off at a sprint. The man in the house was still shooting at the driveway, and Soren could see the headlights on the road growing brighter by the second.
They jogged up the embankment on the opposite side of the road and threw themselves back into the woods, whipping through the trees to put as much distance as possible between them and their pursuers.
“Mother — fuckin’ — volunteered me — for this shit!” Axel yelled, huffing along behind Soren like a fat kid in gym class.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit!” Axel panted. It seemed that the act of yelling while running was a little too much for him.
“I didn’t — want Lark coming,” Soren gasped, slowing his pace to bushwhack through a patch of dense vegetation.
“I dunno why we had to go back in the firs’ place,” Axel mumbled.
“We have to find Portia.”
“That uppity bitch?” Axel cried. “What in tarnation do ya wanna find her for?”
Soren rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. He didn’t really feel that Axel’s question warranted a reply. Portia was pregnant, and, uppity or not, she was part of their group. They couldn’t just leave her there.
But with Axel he didn’t have to hide his frustration. In truth, Soren had no idea how they were going to find her. He could hardly see three feet in front of his face. He wasn’t even sure that they were headed in the right direction. Portia might have taken a wrong turn. She might have been captured. Or she might be lying somewhere in the forest, injured and unable to move.
Soren didn’t want to consider that possibility. If she was unconscious, or if she’d fallen into a ravine, their chances of finding her were slim to none.
“Now if we was goin’ back to rescue that fiery blonde . . .” Axel let out a sigh of lust that was indistinguishable from his out-of-breath huff. “Lawd knows I’d wanna take all the credit.”
Soren came to a halt at the rim of the canyon where they’d slept. He was pretty sure he was standing directly above their campsite. He just needed to find a landmark.
Sure enough, as he squinted through the trees, he spotted the smoldering remains of their abandoned fire. “I think Bernie’s spoken for.”
“By who?”
Soren threw him a sidelong glance. It didn’t matter that they had Homeland Security on their asses. Axel’s voice only had two volumes: loud and very loud.
“Awww, come on . . . Tech Support won’ be able to seal the deal. Betcha a million dollars.”
Soren rolled his eyes and resumed his search for Portia. “I don’t see her, but that doesn’t mean she’s not hiding down there somewhere.”
“There’s some top-notch detective work,” Axel grumbled.
Soren turned to him slowly with an irritated glare, but Axel held up his hands in surrender.
It wasn’t the first time Soren had wanted to deck him. He’d known Axel long enough to understand that the endless stream of jokes and jabs were nothing personal, but that didn’t mean he never wanted to beat his ass just to shut him up.
Still, Axel had agreed to come even with Homeland Security breathing down their necks. He never backed down from a challenge, and when push came to shove, he was the sort of guy you wanted on your side. He was loyal, he was tough, and he was stupidly brave.
“Come on,” Soren muttered, continuing to circle the upper rim of the canyon.
As they walked, he strained his ears for the snap of a branch or the rustle of leaves, but the woods were eerily quiet. All he could hear was the babble of the creek and Axel’s labored breathing.
Soren began to wonder whether Portia had been captured. Certainly something had delayed Homeland Security in the woods. But then he heard a sound that made him stop in his tracks — the soft crunch of pine cones underfoot.
Soren threw out an arm to stop Axel, hoping he had the good sense not to say anything that could scare Portia away. They waited in silence for several minutes, staring into the abyss for some sign of life.
Then Soren felt movement behind him and realized that Axel had raised his stolen rifle. He was aiming at the spot the sound had originated from, but with the clouds blocking out the moonlight, it was impossible to see.
As they stood there listening, Soren heard something else: a quiet huff of frustration as whoever it was fought their way through the underbrush. He strained his ears to count the number of footsteps and heard the barely audible give of pine needles as someone approached their spot.
“Portia?” Soren called.
No answer.
“Portia.”
Still nothing.
Then, without warning, there was a crack of branches and the frantic shuffle of footfalls. She was making a run for it.
Soren swore and darted after her, certain that the person he was chasing had to be Portia. Low-hanging branches slapped him in the face as he ran, and several times he stumbled on creeping vines and clumps of grass as he beat his way through the forest.
He couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him, but after a moment, he could tell he was gaining on her. He could hear the huff of her breath and the frantic crackle of tree branches as she fought to put as much distance between them as possible.
Finally, the outline of a body materialized in the weak moonlight. He was getting closer.
Soren reached out his arm as far as it would go and grabbed the woman by the shoulder. She screamed and tried to pull away, but Soren held on for dear life.
The woman wheeled around, and Soren stumbled. He felt something warm and hard glance off the side of his
face, and he grabbed her other arm before she could throw another wild punch.
The woman screamed louder.
“Portia! It’s me!”
“What?”
“Soren!”
Portia froze on the spot, and Soren sensed that she was squinting to get a better look at him.
A second later, Axel came up behind him, wheezing and coughing as though he’d just smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. “Damn, girl.”
“Are you insane?” Portia cried. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Rescuing you,” Soren gasped, a little taken aback by her anger and aggression.
“I thought you were Homeland Security!”
“You thought Homeland Security would call you by name?”
“Maybe,” she shot back. “Why are you here, anyway? I could have handled it on my own.”
“You would rather we left you?” Soren asked.
“You guys did leave me!”
“Sorry,” said Soren. “We didn’t mean to. I think everybody was just in a rush.”
“Yeah, I know,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.
“How are you still here, anyway?” asked Soren. “Why didn’t you follow us?”
“I tried,” Portia grumbled. “But it was dark, and I fell. I got my ankle caught on a tree root, and by the time I got up . . . you guys were gone.”
“Are you okay?” asked Soren. “Is the baby —”
“The baby’s fine,” Portia snapped. “I know that’s all anybody cares about, but it’s not some fragile little egg.”
Soren didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t have a list of things you should and shouldn’t say to a pregnant woman, but he knew instinctively that he was about to get slapped.
“Anyway, I heard the Homeland Security guys coming up behind me, so I sort of just laid there and waited for them to pass,” Portia finished.
“You played dead?” said Axel.
“It worked!” she snapped.
“How’s your ankle?” asked Soren.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. The baby’s fine. Everything’s fine. Now can we go? The others are probably wondering what happened.”
Axel shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to another. Soren couldn’t see his face, but he knew that Axel was looking at him. “Yeah . . . About that . . .”
“The others went on ahead,” said Soren. “We wouldn’t have all fit in one car, and we were being shot at. We came back to find you, but we have to get our hands on another vehicle so we can meet up with the others.”
Portia let out a haughty sigh and turned to climb back out of the canyon. “Typical,” she muttered.
“No one wanted to leave you,” Soren added.
“Yeah, I bet.”
“Well, I probably woulda left your ass,” Axel mumbled.
Soren shot him a sharp glare, but Axel couldn’t see his face.
“Lark probably couldn’t wait to ditch me,” Portia muttered.
“Splitting up was my idea,” said Soren. “Lark actually went back to look for you.”
“Right.”
They set off on a path that ran parallel to the road, all of them listening carefully for the sounds of footsteps or the hum of an engine.
Soren had no idea how far they might have to walk to find a vehicle. For all he knew, they could be miles from the nearest town. Axel and Portia weren’t complaining, but he hoped they weren’t too far out. The surge of adrenaline had begun to fade, and he could no longer ignore the sharp stabbing pain emanating from the spot where the bullet had grazed his arm.
“So what’s the plan?” asked Axel after about twenty minutes.
“Lark and the others are headed straight for the Baileys’. I told Lark we’d meet them there.”
“You told her you would meet ’em there?”
Soren heard the smirk in Axel’s voice.
“Sounds to me like you’re plannin’ on doin’ somethin’ different,” he added.
Soren didn’t answer right away. In truth, he was still working out the plan in his head. He’d been thinking about it ever since Lark had given him the seed. It seemed crazy — not to mention dangerous — but it made the most sense.
“I think we should go find Dr. Griffin,” he said.
Axel stopped dead in his tracks, and Soren nearly walked right into him.
“You what?” Axel spluttered, though Soren knew he’d heard him perfectly.
“We need to talk to Griffin.”
“Psycho-doctor-Stockholm-syndrome-Griffin?” Axel yelled.
“That’s the one.”
“Are you outta your goddamned mind?”
“Think about it,” said Soren. “Who knows more about GreenSeed’s crops than him?”
“Who is this guy?” asked Portia, clearly confused.
“We had a run-in with him on our way to Kingsville,” Soren explained.
“That’s one way to put it,” Axel mumbled.
“He used to work for GreenSeed.”
“He still does!” Axel cried.
“Only because they’re blackmailing him.”
“Yeah, well, they ‘blackmailed’ him into turnin’ us in. I had to blow up his goddamned kitchen jus’ so we could escape. You think he’s gon’ invite us in for tea?”
“Look,” said Soren. “I don’t trust Griffin any more than you do, but he might be our best source for information about growing these crops and getting our hands on more seed.”
“Why would Griffin help us?”
Soren shrugged. “Maybe he’s sick of being under GreenSeed’s thumb. Maybe they finally had enough of him and let him go.”
“Well, we don’ know, do we? All I know is that I wanna stay outta prison, and the best way to do that is to not go lookin’ for some shady psycho snitch.”
Soren let out an exasperated sigh. He hadn’t wanted to bring up Griffin right away, because he knew what Axel’s reaction would be.
“Tell you what,” said Soren. “If Griffin betrays us . . . If Griffin so much as looks at us the wrong way, you can beat the shit out of him. I won’t stop you.”
“Already did ’at,” said Axel, puffing out his chest.
“But did he really learn his lesson?” pressed Soren.
He knew it was a little underhanded to bait Axel this way, but he knew Axel well enough to know that he couldn’t resist the provocation.
Axel seemed to consider this for a moment. Then he dragged in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I guess we’ll find out, won’ we?”
Soren grinned.
“Wait a sec,” said Portia, stopping in her tracks. “Are you serious about going to see this Griffin guy?”
“Yep,” said Soren.
“Ohhh no. Count me out.”
Soren held back a groan. Lark had said that Portia was a stuck-up pain in the ass, but Soren had thought she’d been exaggerating. He was wrong.
“I’m not going along on some wild goose chase to find this guy.”
“All right,” said Soren. “See you later, I guess.”
He clapped Axel on the back and kept walking through the woods. He knew it was an asshole move, but he’d known plenty of girls like Portia before, and he knew that what they craved more than anything was attention. When that need was exploited by a man who seemed indifferent to them, well . . .
“Ex-cuse me?” Portia snapped.
Soren stopped, feeling a dark burn of satisfaction that he’d pegged her right. He turned around slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. “Well, you don’t want to go looking for Dr. Griffin, so I guess this is where we say goodbye.”
“You’re just going to leave me here?”
“It’ll make for a quieter ride,” said Axel.
“Fuck you!”
“Well, it would be better to go into this three against one, but I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do,” said Soren.
He managed to keep his voice light, but inside Soren felt sick.
He hated playing games like that, but he was good at it. His mother had been a junkie, and he’d spent his entire life trying to manipulate her into giving them money for field trips, showing up for Micah’s parent-teacher conferences — even just getting out of bed in the morning.
“Well, I’m not just going to let you leave me here in the middle of the woods,” said Portia angrily.
“Relax,” said Axel. “Anybody kidnaps you, give ’em twenty minutes in a confined space, like a car or a basement . . . I have a feelin’ they’ll bring ya right on back.”
“I’m pregnant,” Portia hissed.
“Oh, we know,” said Axel. “You’re startin’ to show a lil’ bit.” He gestured to his own overlarge stomach.
“Asshole,” Portia seethed, bumping past Soren. “I’m coming with you.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, continuing along his path toward the road.
They kept walking in strained silence. Portia was still fuming about almost being abandoned in the woods, and Axel seemed irritated by her mere presence. It was going to be a long drive to Texas.
All of a sudden, they stumbled out of the tree line and onto a paved road. It looked to Soren like some kind of state highway, but there wasn’t a single car in sight. He headed south — or at least in the direction he thought was south — and Axel and Portia followed.
They shuffled down the road for around forty minutes, sticking close to the tree line in case they needed to take cover. As they walked, the moon began to emerge from the clouds, bathing the pavement in a soft silver glow.
Soren’s wound was throbbing so hard that it felt as though his arm had its own heartbeat. He was hungry, thirsty, sore, and exhausted, but he knew they couldn’t afford to stop. The Department of Homeland Security was still scouring the area, and the sooner they found a vehicle, the better.
Finally, Soren saw the sharp outline of a building looming in the distance. He hadn’t noticed it right away, but as they drew closer, he saw a large black mass that seemed darker than the rest of their surroundings. Only when they were standing right in front of it could Soren make out the sign: Bates’s Bait-n-Tackle and General Store.
Although the tackle shop and general store seemed to be two different businesses, they shared one long building situated behind a row of ancient gas pumps. It didn’t look good. The windows were dark, the door was locked, and there were shredded plastic bags taped over the pumps.
