13
After they left Horst unconscious against the tree, Kellen led, pushed and assisted Rae below the road, and along a parallel track for over two hours. Then Rae sighed so pitifully that Kellen listened for the sounds of pursuit, then called a halt in a grove near a cold babbling stream. The jump out of the tree had not done her hip any good. She hurt, and she was tired, too; from the heaviness of Rae’s bright pink bag, Kellen assumed Rae brought a brick wall. The marble head was no lightweight, either.
She dropped everything off her shoulders into a heap. “We’ll stop and rest and eat. What else is in your lunch sack?”
“String cheese!” Rae shouted.
“Shhh.”
Rae said, “Shhh,” back.
“No, really, Rae. We don’t want the bad guys to hear us.”
“They left! And we tied the traitor up.” To Rae, the matter was settled.
Kellen put her hand on the mummy’s head. “As long as we have this, they’re looking for us. They want it.” At least Group 1 did. Group 2 had a different agenda, but Rae would be able to understand about the head, an object, better than she could understand about hunting a person.
“Why?” Rae asked.
“Because it’s very old and worth a lot of money.”
Dramatically, Rae thumped her forehead with her palm. “Why?”
Kellen took a breath and did her best to explain the whole situation to Rae, what had happened, where they were going. She spoke slowly and clearly and hopefully used words the child understood. When she was done, she asked, “Now do you understand what’s going on with those men and the guy I tied to the tree and the mummy’s head?”
“We’re going to get whacked,” Rae said.
Whacked. Killed? Kellen didn’t ask whether Rae knew what that meant. “Not if I have anything to do with it. But we are in trouble. So let’s talk quietly while we eat, and move out quickly.” She opened Rae’s pink bag. “Let’s see what you brought to eat.”
The good news: Rae’s bag included Rae’s lunch for camp. Carrot sticks! A turkey and Havarti sandwich! A baggie of mushed cherry tomatoes! An assortment of loose citrus Jelly Bellies with little bits of fuzz attached! And yes, string cheese! The food was a lifesaver.
The bad news: this was lunch for one little girl for one day. Every time Kellen put food in Rae’s hand, she conveyed it to her mouth and it was gone. The kid was a bottomless pit, absorbing calories as if by osmosis.
When Kellen scowled, Rae offered her half the sandwich. “Here, Mommy, you’re hangry.”
Hungry-angry. Yes, she probably was. Kellen bit into the whole wheat bread full of mayonnaise, slices of organic turkey, creamy Havarti cheese, lettuce and tomato. She wanted to moan as the flavors hit her tongue. “This is so good. Thank you, Rae. I guess we have something in common.”
“We’re ThunderFlash and LightningBug!” From somewhere in her tutu, Rae pulled the tattered stapled notebook with drawings of the two of them.
“We are!” With every bite, Kellen was feeling more like ThunderFlash. She pulled a peanut butter raisin celery stick out of the bag and bit into it. “That’s a funny tasting raisin,” she said.
“I don’t like raisins. Neither does Daddy. We use prunes.”
Kellen didn’t spit it out. But it was close. “Prunes?”
“I like prunes. I like the orange-flavored ones best. Oo! And the chocolate-covered prunes.”
“Right.” Kellen had fallen into an alternate universe. “Here. Let me put sunscreen on your face.”
“Grandma already put it on me. She thought I was going to camp.” Rae sounded triumphant.
“I thought so, too.” Kellen applied sunscreen on her own neck, face and hands, pulled her hair back and stuck it under her cap. “Do you have a hat?”
“My duck hat.”
“Does it have a bill?” Rae gave Kellen a look that made her feel stupid. “I guess it does if it’s a duck hat.” Kellen opened the bag. “I don’t suppose you remember where you put it?”
“Grandma put it away for the winter.”
“You didn’t bring your duck hat?”
“No!”
Kellen reviewed the conversation in her mind. She had asked if Rae had a hat; not if Rae had a hat with her. Taking her own hat off her head, she adjusted the back strap and fit it to Rae’s head. “Do you have crayons?”
“Are we going to color?”
“Maybe.” Kellen was trying to figure out what in Rae’s bag they could possibly use for weapons and survival. Red crayons could be melted to look like blood and fake someone out.
She looked at Rae. The whole assortment of crayons also could be used to entertain her daughter during the times they were resting. She put them, the ThunderFlash and LightningBug book, and some crumped pieces of plain paper in her bag. “We don’t need this.” Kellen held up the computer tablet.
“My tablet!”
“We can’t use your tablet out here. There’s no electricity and you didn’t bring a charger anyway.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t work.”
“If it doesn’t work, why do you have it?”
“It’s my tablet!”
Kellen found herself wanting to say, “That makes no sense.” But somehow, it did make sense—to Rae. “What’s wrong with it?”
“The battery catches on fire.”
“Really?” Kellen switched it on. It was charged.
“Daddy said not to turn it on because the battery catches on fire.”
Kellen held it while the temperature began to climb, then switched it off. “I heard about this. Wasn’t there a recall?” She looked to Rae for an answer.
Rae peeled a cheese stick and held it out. “I guess. Can I have peanut butter?”
Rae clearly knew nothing about a recall, but if this thing caught on fire, it was like owning a time bomb and that was no end of useful. Kellen stuck the tablet in her bag. “There’s no more peanut butter.”
“I brought a jar of peanut butter!”
“I... Really?” Kellen delved into Rae’s bag and found an entire unopened jar of all-natural organic peanut butter rolling around at the bottom. She laughed in delight. “Dear Lord.” Was that swearing? “Heavens, this is the best news ever. Do you realize how much protein and energy is in a jar of peanut butter?”
Rae examined her as if she was slightly mad.
“I don’t suppose you brought a loaf of bread or some graham crackers, did you?”
“Why? Can I have a banana?”
Kellen almost said no. Then she remembered the battered banana she had packed, pulled it out, divided it in half and passed it to Rae. They ate it piled with peanut butter. Then Kellen loaded the broken computer tablet, Rae’s yellow blankie, Patrick and the cotton-caped princess into her backpack. “Did you bring any extra socks?”
Rae tilted her head and viewed Kellen as if she was crazy.
“Underwear? Clothes? Toothbrush?”
“My Halloween costume!” Rae leaped to her feet. “I’m going as Luna Lovegood!”
That explained the great mop of blond hair in the bag. Rae hadn’t scalped someone. She was channeling her inner Harry Potter.
Kellen noticed parenthood had suddenly created an odd conglomeration of thoughts in her brain, now, at a time when she needed to be thinking clearly. “Let me see your feet.”
Rae pulled off her rain boots and stuck her feet out. Somehow, by the grace of God and Grandma Verona, she wore sturdy athletic shoes and tall socks. “How do your feet feel?”
“Fine.” Rae looked bored.
“Did you bring any other shoes?”
“Yes! My Dorothy magic red sparkly shoes. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home!”
“You said it, kiddo.” That explained the red sequins tangled in the blond hair. “We’re going t
o hide your bag. We’ll hang your bag in a safe tree.” Kellen looked up from trying to pack Rae’s blankie into her backpack in time to see tears well up into Rae’s eyes. Rae opened her mouth to sob and Kellen said quickly, “We’ll come back for it.”
“Really?” Rae’s voice quavered.
“Really.” Kellen prepared to climb. “When I was a little girl, my father and mother died, and my uncle and aunt took me in. They were wonderful people, but I was little and they had to clean out my parents’ home. Some of the stuff they got rid of was... I missed it. My ugly baby doll with the hair I had chewed on. She was missing an eye, but I loved her. My comic book collection, and... I had my mother’s records from when she was little. They threw those away. I’m not trying to get rid of your precious things.”
Rae had fixated on one thing. “Your mother and father died? Oh, Mommy, I’m so sorry!” She reached out, all sticky fingers and peanut butter–smeared face, and hugged Kellen.
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. I’m better now.” Rae looked so distressed, Kellen found her own voice shook. She was okay. She had been for a long time. But looking back, she knew the loss of her parents’ love and support left her so hungry for someone of her own, she’d fallen prey to an older man, a Prince Charming who dramatically transformed into a monster.
She looked down at Rae, at her child, and imagined Rae falling prey to someone like Gregory. Suddenly, fiercely, she hugged her back. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” she promised.
“I know,” Rae said matter-of-factly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you, either.”
A childish promise made in all sincerity. Kellen quickly kissed the top of Rae’s head, embarrassed now at the display of affection, and yet...inside she felt warm and mushy. “I’ve got to...” She freed herself from Rae’s gummy embrace and hoisted herself into the lower branches of the Douglas fir. “See how this tree leans out over the bend of the creek? I can find it again.”
From below, she heard the crinkle of plastic and Rae’s voice saying, “That’s astonishing.”
“What’s astonishing?” Kellen looked down.
Rae had unwrapped the mummy’s head from its Bubble Wrap and was walking around it, looking at it from every side. “It’s the Triple Goddess!”
“Why did you—?” Kellen sighed. “Never mind.” She perched Rae’s bag in the fork of a branch and slid back onto the ground. She didn’t know whether she should react to Rae describing an ancient artifact as “astonishing,” which seemed a huge word for a seven-year-old, or ask why Rae recognized the Triple Goddess, whatever that was. She settled on the easy one. “I don’t know if you’re right, but I do know it’s definitely not a mummy’s head. It’s white marble, maybe Phoenician or Greco-Roman.”
“Uh-huh.” Rae squatted beside the head. “If you rub a statue of the Triple Goddess, it will bring you good luck.” She rubbed it gently with her palm.
“I sure hope so.” Kellen squatted down and rubbed, too. It couldn’t do any harm. “What’s a triple goddess?”
In an incredibly patient and patronizing manner, her child said, “The Triple Goddess is Mother, Maiden, Goddess.”
Kellen turned the head around to view both sides. Yes, one side portrayed a young female on the verge of womanhood with a riot of curly hair around her youthful, hopeful face. On the opposite side, was a matron, an unsmiling woman with mature features. “Where’s the goddess?” she asked.
Rae pointed at the top of her own head.
Kellen turned the head and jumped. There was a face peering out from the curls and stylings of the mother and daughter, a cruel face that protected, warned and intimidated. “Wow, kid, you really know what you’re talking about. Where did you learn about this Triple Goddess?”
“Comics.” Rae had lost interest. “Can I go wade in the creek?”
“Okay.” Rae was halfway to the water when Kellen suddenly realized she was the parent, Rae was a child and Kellen would have to deal with any wet clothes. “Take off your shoes and socks first and roll up your pants!”
Rae waved at her as if she was being annoying. Which Kellen supposed, to a seven-year-old, she was.
She picked up the Triple Goddess head and strapped a zip tie around the base, not bothering with the Bubble Wrap. The damned thing weighed a ton, and the idea of toting it around the mountains trying to get Rae back to civilization made her—
“Miss Adams, give that to me.”
She looked. A man stood in the shadows on the edge of the clearing. He was tall, young, athletic and definitely one of Group 2. He’d tracked them. He’d found them. He was demanding the head, and he had a rifle pointed at her chest.
“Of course,” she said. “I’m not willing to die for this.” She slung her bag over one shoulder, walked toward him, plastic tie looped to the head’s base in hand, and when she was close, she swirled, swung the head and knocked him in the skull with forty pounds of carved marble.
The element of surprise always worked—once.
He went down, bleeding from the forehead, sprawled across the pine-needle-strewn ground like a broken doll.
She pulled her pistol and pointed it at him.
He didn’t move.
With her foot, she pushed his rifle out of his reach.
Still he didn’t move.
Picking it up, she slammed the barrel against a tree trunk, bending the barrel, rendering the rifle unusable. She gave him a quick search, pulled his phone out of his pocket and used the butt of the rifle to smash the screen to smithereens. She picked it up and slipped it into her bag. Behind her she heard, “Mommy, who’s that man with the gun?”
Arms outstretched, pistol ready to shoot, Kellen turned.
Rae was back from the stream. Water soaked her clothes and matted her hair; she’d fallen in.
Ten feet away from her, a second mercenary pointing a pistol at Kellen’s back swung toward Rae.
Instantly, Kellen shot.
She was good with a pistol, but the distance across the clearing was forty feet. She tried for his chest; the bullet struck his shoulder. It should have blasted his arm away. Instead, it hit, slapped him sideways, blew his weapon out of his suddenly limp hand, knocked him down. He screamed like guys do when in combat and they’re wearing body armor but the impact breaks the joint underneath. So she was a pretty good shot after all.
Kellen swung back to the guy she’d hit with the head. He was still out, his eyes rolled back in his head. She ran toward the guy writhing on the ground, picked up his weapon, set the safety and tucked it into her belt. She pointed her pistol in his face.
Abruptly, he stopped screaming and stared.
“How many more?” she asked. “Where are they?”
“Twenty!” His dark eyes were furious and fixed on the head dangling from the tie at her wrist. “They’re all around you.”
This guy was Group 1, overdressed and under-convincing. “You’re not even a good liar,” she said and used her foot to shove him on his face.
That made him scream, too.
Shoulders are so delicate.
She looped the zip tie around the handle of her duffel bag, securing the head. Grabbing his wrist on the broken side, she twisted it behind him. While he screamed, she used a plastic tie to bind his hands behind him. He was secure.
She glanced across the clearing. The guy with the rifle was out for the count.
She frisked the guy in the suit and found his phone. No signal—but she pressed his thumb to the keypad and changed the lock setting anyway.
He moaned, “Yeah, baby, you love it!”
She kicked his shoulder.
He screamed again.
Rae watched, eyes wide with amazement and horror. Of course. The child had never seen this kind of violence.
Kellen pocketed the phone. “Who do you work for?”
“Depends on whether I�
��m hunting the head or hunting the woman.”
“What?” She dropped to one knee, pulled his pistol, released the safety with a loud satisfying click and pointed it at the side of his head. When the cold metal touched his temple, she asked, “What do you mean, hunting the woman?”
His eyes swiveled as far to the side as he could make them go, and when he caught a glimpse of the pistol, he got serious. “The first boss dropped out of the chase. I don’t know why, got a case of decency or got eliminated.”
“Killed?”
“This is a rough game. Lots of money at stake.”
“I know that.” If rival thieves were vying for the Triple Goddess, that explained the two bands who were chasing Rae and Kellen.
“I wanted to drop out, too. I don’t run around in the mountains like a goddamn hillbilly. I’m not dressed for this. We don’t have the right communication. But the new guy—once you’re in, he doesn’t let you go. His directions are to get the woman.”
That set her back on her heels. “Get me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not priceless. It’s the head we’re after. As long as you’ve got the head, you’re the target.” He laughed and turned his head into the dirt. “If you’re going to shoot me, do it. My life’s not worth spit now anyway.”
Kellen wasn’t going to shoot him in cold blood, she really wasn’t going to shoot him in front of her little girl and she needed to get that little girl out of here in a hurry. So she set the safety, put the pistol in her belt again and in a voice she kept steady and understated, she asked, “Rae, honey, are your feet all wet?”
Rae stomped her boots up and down, and even from this distance, Kellen could hear sloshing inside. “Yes, Mommy.”
“Then come on.” Kellen walked toward her, projecting so much calm she was positively Zen. “I’ll carry you on my back.”
“I’m too big!”
“I can’t carry you very far, but we need to get away from here and fast.” Kellen pulled her bag off her back, pushed her arms through the straps, settled the weight on her chest and squatted down in front of Rae. “Let’s go.”
What Doesn't Kill Her Page 9
