Captive (The Survival Race)
Page 20
“Hell, woman,” he said with disgust. “What’s an animal’s word worth to you?”
“I’m not talking to an animal, Max. I’m talking to a man.”
* * *
She had called him a man two days ago and he’d nearly killed her. Would he finish the job now?
Staring with narrowed eyes, Max scrutinized her as though he could see her soul. His expression changed, and for the first time she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Would he agree or take the boat?
She waited, refusing neither to look away nor speak first. The silence grew past uncomfortable.
The hard angles of his face softened. The tension lines disappeared. She recognized this as his physical transformation into Max the man. He released the reins to touch his fingertips to his lips. “I give you my word.” He placed his hand, heavy and warm, on her chest. “I’ll see you to the wildlife refuge.”
The tension in her body ebbed. She covered his hand with hers. “In that case, get your weapons. Permission to board is granted. There’s a little food in the sack behind me and first aid supplies in the Tupperware bowl inside my backpack.”
He retrieved his weapons and climbed in. “Do you know where you’re headed?”
“Mush.” She slapped the reins. “Yakone said I didn’t need to know. The wolves do. They will pull the sleigh as far as the ice breakups. Then I unhook the umiak from the sled, feed the wolves and command them to go home with the sled.
“Did he tell you anything else?”
“Like what?”
“Like what to do at the ice breakups?”
Holding the reins loose in her hands, she turned to face him. “No. I figured I’d slide the boat into the water.”
Max cracked an I-know-something-you-don’t smirk before digging into the food sack.
“What?”
“He must really have wanted whatever it was you traded. Probably figured you wouldn’t have made the deal if you knew.” He pulled out two of her favorite Hyborean root vegetables, offered one to her. She shook her head no, so he put one back.
“Knew what? Remember what I said, Max. Full disclosure.”
“That you’d have to portage the umiak.”
“How far?”
“A few miles. But it’s not the weight of the umiak or the distance that makes it risky. It’s the ice cracking beneath your feet.” His teeth crunched into the vegetable.
How could Yakone forget to mention something as important as cracking ice? Or had she not understood all of Ahnah’s translations? Or maybe Max was right. Maybe Yakone did care more about the trade than her safety. “Why are men such intergalactic jerks?”
He patted her knee. “It’s easy to be a target when you don’t understand the planet.”
“Well, Mr. I-know-everything-about-this-planet-so-keep-your-Earth-ideals-to-yourself, too bad you didn’t know what to trade for an umiak and sleigh. Hmm?”
That erased the smugness from his face. He unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it until he found thermal cream and medicine. “Are you going to enlighten me?”
“I gave Yakone instructions on how to make moonshine.”
He shot her a sideways glance that was the equivenet to asking What the hell are you talking about?
“It was a pocket guide to moonshine, actually.”
“Let me get this straight. He gave you a sled and umiak, a team of wolves, a sack of food, and pelts”—he pointed to the other end of the boat, where animal pelts were piled thick—“and you gave him the Pocket Guide to Moonshine?”
“Yes. And he didn’t even care that it had a faint smell of garbage.” She couldn’t stop the smile from creeping up her face. “Too bad you didn’t know paper artifacts from Earth are valuable.”
“How was I supposed to know that? I’m a gladiator. My interaction with people is limited to mating and fighting. If I knew paper had more trading power than weapons, I would have stolen Duncan’s books instead of his firearm.”
“You mean you stole the gun for trading all along?”
“Hell yeah. I’ve never shot a gun before.”
“You’re a gladiator. You’ve fought with swords and knives and crossbows, but you’ve never fired a gun?”
He didn’t look at her when he shook his head no. He was trying to slather antiseptic ointment on his back. Should she offer to help?
“Didn’t even know the make until Lucky said it.”
“Even I knew it was a .38 special.” She slapped her forehead with the heel of her gloved hand. “You know what your problem is? Communication. Maybe if you talked a little more, we could’ve helped each other out. I know how to shoot.”
“So what. We only had three bullets.”
“That’s not the point. Whether we like it or not, you and I are playing on the same team. If we don’t help each other, we lose.”
He capped the ointment and the thermal cream, stuck both tubes in the backpack before zipping it up. Sad, serious eyes turned her way. “I’ve never been much of a team player.”
“Neither have I, but three lives depend on us being fast learners.”
“In that case—” He held out his hand for the reins.
Before surrendering them, she raised her eyebrows in expectation.
“The plan is to head for the Southwest Passage. The wolves will eventually make it to the ice breakups on their own, but if I drive them, we’ll get there faster. Maybe under ten days.”
Addy nodded her thanks and handed over the reins. “What about Hyboreans?”
“All the country south of the incinerator plant and to the passage is Tuniit land. We’re safe as long as we don’t run into poachers—.”
She scanned the land expecting to see evil Hyboreans hiding behind snow-covered foothills. Everything was barren as a frozen desert. Thank goodness.
“—or polar bears, or smilodons, or don't capsize when the ice breaks beneath us, or—”
Okay, so maybe Max’s full disclosure wasn’t proving to be such a good idea. Hopefully, having him for a teammate was.
Chapter Thirty-two
A glowing, yellow ball descended down a path in the Ice Mountain. Regan headed for it. As he neared the lantern’s light, he made out the form of a broad-shouldered man cradling a woman in his arms.
Max?
Adrenaline pumped through him.
He needed to get a closer look at the man beneath the thick, fur clothing.
Concealed by darkness, Regan retrieved the stolen knife from his boot, and quietly followed the man to a small icehouse.
The man’s labored breaths would no doubt cover any sounds of Regan’s footsteps. He melted into the shadows of the house, watched and waited.
The man carried the woman into the room to the left, laid her on a bed of pelts, and took off her coat. From this angle, Regan could only see her legs and swollen belly.
A rush awakened his groin.
Then the man moved and disappointment hit him. It wasn’t his broodmare or his rival.
Hiding the knife low behind his thigh, Regan stepped at an angle into the lantern light, making his presence known.
The man started, and jabbered in some language he couldn’t understand. Was the guy stupid? His tone didn’t even sound angry. In fact, he was probably asking, Can I help you? This confirmed Regan’s opinion. Peaceful people were fools.
“I’m looking for a gladiator and a broodmare who escaped from HuBReC a little over a week ago.”
The man cocked his head and squinted.
Idiot. Regan spoke slower and louder. “I’m...looking...for...a...gladiator...and...a—”
“Yakone?” The woman in bed sat up.
Her hair—long, black, and disheveled—fell about her round face and swept down over ripe, heavy tits. Regan licked his bottom lip. “Hello, pet.”
Eyes widening, she pulled a fur pelt over her.
“You speak English?”
She nodded. “Y-Yes.”
He knew by her tentative answer and starin
g gaze that she already feared him. Why? He didn’t give her any reason. Yet. “Both of you?” He eyed the man suspiciously.
“Yakone no speak English.”
“Do you know the humans I’m looking for?”
The man said something to her in the native language and she answered. He started to say something else, but she held up her hand to silence him and then turned to Regan and shook her head.
The man spoke again.
“Who is this guy?” Regan asked. “Your father?”
“Yakone is husband.”
“Perhaps you should listen to your husband and tell me where my humans are.”
The husband’s voice turned deeper and stern as he again spoke gibberish.
“Shut up, I can’t understand you.”
“Yakone say he want stranger to leave.”
“I’ll leave after I get what I came for.”
“Ahnah don’t know who people are.” Her gaze shifted from him to a small table before going to the floor.
“You lie.” He reached for the only thing on the table other than a brush and hair combs. He thumbed the edge of the pocket-sized book. “Where is she?”
The lying bitch wrung her hands. It wouldn’t be long before she cracked.
Seeing his wife’s distress, dear husband moved toward Regan speaking in a stern tone, no doubt telling him to get out.
Regan revealed his knife, stopping the man in his tracks, and threw the book at the girl. “Where is my broodmare?”
Tears rolled down her face. “Ahnah don’t know. Go away.”
Regan grabbed the husband, pinned the man’s back against him, keeping him there by the knife blade pressed against his carotid artery. Any movement and the guy would slit his own throat. “So where did that Pocket Guide to Moonshine come from?”
Regan drew the knife, cutting the man in warning. He gasped and pleaded something to the woman, but Regan couldn’t be sure if he coached her to talk or to remain silent.
“Is their location worth me killing your husband?”
“Please.” She sobbed. “No hurt Yakone. He good man. I tell you. Put knife down. I tell you.”
“First you’ll tell me, then I’ll drop the knife.” But it was too late for that. The glorious scent of blood, and the power rush from holding life or death in his grip already brought him into the killing zone. Blood coursing and hormones raging, he knew he’d slit the man’s throat and fuck the woman.
“Max left one night ago on foot.” She wiped her tears. “Addy left today. Eat supper then take umiak sleigh.”
“Where are they going?”
“Southland. To Pele.”
“That’s more like it.” Regan drew the knife across the husband’s throat. The man dropped to the floor choking on his blood.
“Yakone!”
It was all she could scream before he jumped her, his tongue in her mouth.
Chapter Thirty-three
Using pelts and her survival skills, Addy covered the back half of the umiak with a makeshift tent long enough to lie inside. Now they could sleep out of the harsh wind and bitter cold. She placed the last pelt on the floor for insulation, double-checked her handiwork and, satisfied, sat at the tent’s door flap watching Max drive the team.
The skin showing through his ripped gladiator suit had turned a blue-gray hue around his lacerations. What if she hadn’t come upon him out there? Or what if she had gotten to him too late? Chills shot up her spine. Best not to think about what-ifs.
Max hadn’t moved from the driver’s seat since she’d started on the tent hours ago. He drove the wolves hard as if something chased them. A smilidon? Or perhaps Ferly Mor.
From the moment Max had learned about her prenatal shots, he’d feared the alien had started his search. He had expected a longer head start, but because of her he hadn’t gotten it. As much as she wanted to, she really couldn’t blame him for leaving her behind. After all, he’d warned her of that possibility before she ever left the Hyborean’s apartment.
Max probably thought once Ferly Mor had found her, he would give up the search. Or if he didn’t give up, at least Max could travel faster without a pregnant chick stopping every hour to pee. Either way, taking her out of the equation meant Max had a greater chance of freedom.
Now, after promising to be teammates, her capture equaled his capture, and so he pushed the wolves to their limits.
Addy took a pelt off the floor and wrapped it around him, hoping it wasn’t too late to prevent frostbite. “You should put more thermal cream on your exposed skin.”
He grunted his agreement yet made no move to get up.
“I appreciate your haste, but what good will it do us if you turn into a Popsicle before we get there?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” Why was everything with him a fight? She picked up his ratty, old backpack, rummaged through the thing until she found the tube, pulled it out and proceeded to rub thick, white balm over the slashes on his back.
He stiffened, whether from the cream’s sting or from her touch she wasn’t sure. She eased up on the pressure, trying hard to be like a feather over his wounds.
Max stared silently out toward the horizon.
She moved her fingers from his back to his ribs, gently working balm into his skin, imagining she could feel his hard body through her gloves.
For all that he angered her—and sometimes frightened her—she couldn’t help feeling drawn to him and drawn to the incessant man-versus-beast struggle in his soul. His moods were as unpredictable and enigmatic as the rest of him. And it enticed her damned curiosity.
What had his life on Hyborea been like? Where had he come from? Did he have a last name? Why wouldn’t he talk about home?
He said he’d forgotten that life, but she knew she never could. She gazed over the umiak’s side at the ground speeding past in a white blur and thought about home.
She envisioned her lake, calm and pristine, surrounded by lush trees. She could almost smell the pine, hear the geese honking overhead, and the lapping of water against the dock and the rowboat. Her memory floated up the winding dirt path to the log cabin’s porch. She could smell wood smoke wafting from its stone chimney. Or was that the forest fire she smelled? She imagined the flames shattering windows and surging up the walls consuming her cabin leaving nothing but charred remains in its destructive wake. She shook her head of the thought, and saw the frozen white blur again.
She moved to Max’s side and worked cream into the slashes on his chest. “Did I tell you everyone back home thinks I died—and remained dead—in a forest fire?” A few weeks ago she wouldn’t have had to clarify that.
He didn’t reply.
“It’s probably better that they do. At least they won’t have to worry over me.”
The sled scraped through the packed snow as the wolves bounded over the land. Rushing air filled the quiet void.
No matter how hard she tried to widen the path of communication, Max never walked down it unless it had to do with survival. Had she really expected this time to be any different? The guy was never going to open up.
So why did that bother her so much?
Even if Max didn’t want to get to know her, you’d think he’d want to get to know his child. But he would never be the type of guy to talk to his kid through the mom’s belly. Would he talk to his child after she gave birth in the refuge? Would he want a relationship with Superbaby then?
She hoped so. It hurt not knowing your biological father. She didn’t wish that pain for her child.
She capped the thermal cream, tucked the tube back into Max’s pack, and brushed a thumb across its threadbare patch.
What made a savage gladiator carry around a cartoon duck? If he’d so desperately wanted to forget his old life, why had he held on to it for fifteen years? Was he trying to punish himself?
“It was our mascot,” he said.
Startled, she dropped the pack. “What?”
“The Fighting Duck
s. UO.”
“You went to the University of Oregon?”
He nodded.
“Small universe,” she said, and he cracked a half smile.
She liked when Max smiled. Even the half smiles that didn’t reach his eyes relaxed the hard angles of his face. Plus, it was usually a sign he was feeling more human than beast.
Max sighed long and heavy, like he didn’t want to tell her something, but had to. “My mom sewed it on.” He kept his eyes on the team. “I hated that dorky backpack. I wouldn’t be caught dead using it on campus.”
“It looks like it’s seen better days.”
“It’s never left my side since I’ve come to Hell.”
Addy wrapped the pelt back around his shoulders, trying to imagine what he might have been like fifteen years ago. What kind of person had he been? What had he liked to do? What had been his dreams?
“What was your major?” It seemed a safe question he might actually answer.
Max gave her a sideways glance and flashed a crooked, sexy breeding box smile that made her breath catch. “You mean besides girls?”
“Oh, big partier, huh?”
“Never during the season.”
“What did you play, football?”
“Decathlon. You know, track and field?”
She nodded. She could see him as a well-rounded athlete. “I bet you were good.”
The green in his eyes sparkled. “I was better than good. I was five points shy of an American record as a freshman. I was Olympic bound. Until—” The muscles in his jaw hardened before he went mute again and Gladiator Max returned. That seemed to be his intermediate state between man and beast.
“If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
“Do you know how long I’ve tried not to think about it?”
Addy stroked the pelt around his shoulders. “Fifteen years is a long time keeping your heart locked, Max.”
“You’ve no idea.”
“I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve had to endure on this planet. I’ll never know the extent of your suffering, but it’s time you stop torturing yourself.”
Max pulled the team to a halt.
“There’s nothing wrong with thinking about home,” she said. “Yes, it’s painful, but isn’t it equally painful not thinking of it?”