by Katie Allen
He moved the garbage can that had been in front of the exit, and the door swung open. “Go. Head for the trees. Follow the building until you get to the Dumpster, then use it for cover. You’ll be visible from the back windows of the clinic for approximately twenty feet until you reach the woods. Walk with purpose, but don’t run. I’ll get this door wedged shut, drop this garbage in the Dumpster, and be right behind you. Got it?”
“Got it.” She tried for a tone of firm confidence but heard her voice waver. When he wasn’t dropping the f-bomb every other word, she knew things were extra-serious.
Slipping through the open door, she stayed close to the building, her shoulder almost touching the back wall of the clinic. The Dumpster wasn’t far, less than ten feet from the door, and she let out a quick breath when she reached it, its heavy bulk giving her a slight sense of security. All too quickly, though, she reached the end of her concealment and had to force her feet to step into the open.
A touch on her hand made her jump. Her head whipped around, and she saw Cal walking next to her. His fingers intertwined with hers, and her heartbeat slowed a little so it was no longer thundering in her ears.
“Did you get the door to stay closed?”
He gave a short nod. “Wedged a small piece of wood underneath the door. It should stay closed.”
They were almost at the trees. Lauren was half-expecting a shout to come from the clinic, but nothing came. Once they reached the cover of the woods, her breathing sped up until she was gasping.
“Fuck.” Cal picked her up by the waist and hauled her behind an evergreen, using the tree to block the line of sight between them and the clinic. “Lauren. Look at me.”
She met his eyes but couldn’t slow her breathing. Her lungs felt tight and panic flowed through her. Her body wasn’t obeying her. She was completely out of control.
“Lauren!” His sharp tone broke through her swirling panic, and she focused on his face. “Breathe with me.”
He counted to three as he breathed in and held it, breathed out and held it. He pulled one of her hands to rest on his chest, to feel the slow rhythm of his inhalations and exhalations. She tried to tell him she couldn’t control it, couldn’t slow down the air rushing in and out of her body, but then she realized she already had. Her chest was mimicking the rise and fall of his.
As her breathing slowed, the pressure in her chest eased. They breathed together until Lauren’s brain was functioning semi-normally again. She tried to think of a quip to mock her panic, something to break the tension, but she burst into tears instead.
Cal pulled her into his chest, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, tucking her face against him. Her body shook with violent, heaving sobs that scared her almost more than hyperventilating had. She wasn’t a crier, and she couldn’t remember ever crying so hard in her life.
“Hush, brave girl,” he crooned in her ear. “You did good. You’re safe now.”
For some reason, that flipped the switch in her brain from tears to anger. She pulled back and punched him in the belly. A bad idea, she realized, shaking out her stinging hand and wondering if she’d ever learn not to rough up Cal.
“I am not!” she sobbed, hiccupping on the last word.
“Not what?” He was watching her warily, as if she were a crazy person, and that just pissed her off more.
“Not safe!” She made a wild gesture toward the hidden vet clinic and scratched her hand on a prickly evergreen branch. “Ow.”
He just kept eyeing her.
“There’s fake NSA guys and baby-hating scientists and real, live, actual cops with real, live, actual dogs tracking us, and I’m wearing jeans stolen from some poor woman who won’t have anything to wear the next time a puppy pees down her leg, and we don’t have a car because you blew it up, and it’s cold, and my leg hurts, and I’m being a whiny baby, and I don’t care!” Her voice started to rise toward the end, but then she remembered that they weren’t far from the occupied clinic. She brought her volume back to a heated whisper. “I really don’t feel safe right now, okay?”
To make everything worse, her nose was running. She snuffled, trying to decide if it was grosser to wipe her snot on her coat cuff or just let it run.
“Okay.” He put a hand out but didn’t touch her, his fingers just hovering next to her shoulder for a few seconds before his arm dropped back to his side. “Just...hang in there a little longer. There’s another town less than ten miles from here. We’ll get another car there. After that, it’ll just be seven hours of driving. We’re in the homestretch.”
Lauren gave up the which-is-grosser debate and swiped her cuff over her runny nose. “Ten miles of walking and seven hours of driving is a homestretch?”
He gave her a tiny grin and shrugged. “Sure. Plus, we’ll get snacks. Some extra-sugary shit.”
After eyeing him for a few seconds, she gave a shivery sigh. She was helpless to resist him when he smiled. “Fine.”
As she started tromping through the woods, Lauren heard a snort behind her. “Know where you’re headed?”
“No clue,” she said without slowing or even turning her head. Her chest still shook with the occasional hiccup.
Cal was suddenly in front of her, forcing her to stop before she crashed into his broad back.
“Hop on,” he said, crouching.
“I can walk.” She eyed his back, though, tempted by the thought of a ride.
He didn’t move. “I can run. Faster than you.”
With a pseudo-reluctant sigh, she climbed on, latching her arms around his shoulders. As soon as she was settled, he started jogging at a brisk pace.
“Sorry,” she muttered after several strides.
“For what?”
“Being the albatross again. The weepy albatross.”
“Hey.” He heaved her up a little, making her catch her breath and grab his shoulders tighter. “Didn’t we already settle this? Who’s the fucking Big Daddy Albatross?”
She had to laugh at that. “Did you just ask me who’s my daddy?”
With a growl, he stopped and swung her around. She gasped as the world whirled until she was face-to-face with Cal.
“Whoa.” She blinked to settle the dizzy rush in her head. “You’re stupidly strong.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Thanks. I think.”
“What was the change in position about?”
He shrugged. “You sounded happy. I just wanted to see your face.”
“Aww...” Trusting him to support her weight, she released her grip on his shoulders so she could pinch both of his cheeks. “You’re such a sweet cheese ball, Big Daddy Al.”
She saw him roll his eyes before he tossed her onto his back again and picked up his ground-covering lope.
“Can’t help it,” he said. “I fucking hate when you cry.”
“Me too.” She tried to rest her chin on his shoulder, but it bounced with his movement, so she straightened with a sigh.
Both were quiet for several minutes as they jogged along until Lauren smacked his shoulder.
“Hey!” Calvin protested, although it didn’t seem to interrupt his stride. “What was that?”
“You promised to feed me, remember?” Her churning stomach reminded her that it had been hours since they’d eaten. The antibiotics she’d taken on an empty stomach weren’t helping matters.
“Figured I’d feed you once the carrying part of this trip was over.”
“Is that a crack about my weight?”
He was silent, but she could see the edge of his smirk.
“Okay, that’s it. You’ve officially been renamed Big Daddy Asshole!” When he laughed, she lifted her hand to smack him again but then changed her mind. She leaned forward and nipped his earlobe instead.
“Shit,” he growle
d, his arms tightening under her legs. “Better watch it, or I’ll stop and fuck you right here on the cold, hard ground.”
Lauren eyed the ground. “I’d almost consider taking you up on that, except for the gazillion government agencies chasing us right at this moment.”
His grunt sounded like an assent.
She pictured the two of them going at it on the ground while armed law-enforcement officers circled and stared at their naked, humping bodies, and she gave a half-horrified, half-amused groan.
“What?” he asked.
Closing her eyes tightly to erase the image, she said, “Just a bad mental picture.”
“Cops catching us fucking on the ground?”
She jolted and stared at the side of his face. “How’d you know? Is mind reading another one of your superpowers?”
“No. I was just picturing the same thing.”
“Thank you, Jesus.” She sighed in relief. “If you could read my thoughts, I’d be embarrassed about ninety percent of the time.”
His laugh was low and growly. “Dirty mind, huh?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
* * *
“I never thought I’d say this,” Lauren sighed, staring over Calvin’s shoulder at the fields stretched out in front of them, “but I wish we were still in the woods.”
He just gave a tense nod. “You okay to walk? We’ll attract less attention that way.”
“Sure.”
She slid off his back and regretted her quick assertion when her feet hit the ground and her legs wobbled.
Cal turned around and caught her by both arms. “Okay?”
Nodding, she forced herself to step back and find her balance. “I’m good. Ready?”
After watching her closely for a few seconds as if waiting to see if she’d fall over, he strode out of the sparse cover of the woods into the open field. It looked like a hay field that had been mowed toward the end of the growing season, since the dormant grass flopping limply on the ground was short. Taking a deep breath, Lauren followed. Her legs felt better after a few strides, and she trotted a couple of steps to catch up to Cal.
“How much farther, map-head?”
“Map-head?”
“Guy with maps in his head? Is that better?”
“No.”
He stayed quiet for several moments. Lauren figured he was punishing her for the nicknames. She didn’t say anything, determined not to be the one who broke first.
“Well?” she finally said, not able to help herself. Besides, he’d stayed quiet for months in that mail room of his, so it’d probably be smart to avoid playing the quiet game with him in the future. She was almost guaranteed to lose.
“Just under three miles.”
“But...” she added.
He lifted a questioning eyebrow.
“That distance had a ‘but’ at the end.”
With an amused snort, he gave a short nod toward the barbed-wire fence they were quickly approaching. “It’s just under three miles as the crow flies. We’re not crows.”
Lauren eyed the length of the fence. It seemed to be never-ending. “And therein lies the ‘but.’”
He grunted in agreement. “We can get through that one, but we’re not going to be able to make it in a straight shot.”
She nodded without saying anything. The idea of walking for miles and miles was suddenly overwhelming, but there wasn’t anything either of them could do. As she trudged closer to the fence, she shot Cal a look.
“What?” he asked.
“Another handy superpower would’ve been flying ability—or at least a built-in jet pack.”
“Right. That’d be inconspicuous. How quickly do you think they’d shoot us out of the sky?”
“Yeah,” she sighed as they reached the fence line. “You’re probably right. Maybe just hovering ability...?”
“Step through,” he commanded, stepping on the bottom strand of barbed wire and using his covered arm to push the middle strand higher.
As she ducked between the two stretched wires, she muttered, “How hard would it’ve been to replace the bossy gene with the much more awesome hovering gene?”
“Can’t remember for sure,” he said, twisting around to slip between the wires, “but I think that bossy gene has always been mine.”
She sighed again. “Figures it’s bred into you.”
With an amused huff, he grabbed her hand and gave her a tug forward. “Enough talking. Use that oxygen to walk.”
“I can do both, you know. Multitasking and all.”
He just shook his head at that. As she trudged forward, she did fall silent, although not to obey His Bossiness. He was right—it was easier to walk without talking, especially as the last threads of adrenaline slipped away. She was tired and aching, and three miles suddenly felt like fifty. With a sigh, she forced her feet to move forward.
* * *
She was still silent what felt like miles and hours later. Her whole body throbbed, and exhaustion made each step heavier than the last. The ground was rutted, and she kept catching the toes of her boots on the rough surface. The field stretched before her, endless and impossible, causing her nose and eyes to burn with the return of tears.
Clamping her jaw closed so tightly her molars squeaked together, Lauren forced the tears back. She was already way over her quota of crying for the day, even taking into account the car chases, rollover accidents, vet-clinic break-ins and endless walking of the day. Even though he’d had the same day she’d had, plus some extra running while carrying her lazy and/or unconscious ass, Calvin wasn’t breaking down blubbering at the thought of walking three miles. He was bionic, sure, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t removed his tear ducts.
As she gave herself the mental pep talk, her toe caught on a dead, ropy weed, and she almost fell facedown into the dirt. Cal caught her and, in the same fluid motion, tossed her onto his back. Startled, she grabbed at his shoulders, hitching her legs around his waist automatically.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his neck. She knew she should get down and walk, carry her own weight—literally—but it felt so nice to not be walking. Even through their coats, his body heat warmed her front.
“It’s quicker this way, anyway,” he said, adjusting her position on his back before breaking into a jog.
“More noticeable, though,” she protested weakly. “Jogging piggyback is going to catch someone’s attention a lot more than a couple walking like normal people.”
“We’re strangers walking through farm fields. If we’re seen, we’ll be noticed, piggyback or no piggyback. The best thing is to get out of sight quickly.”
Turning her head to look at the open plains around them, Lauren sighed. “Not much chance of that for a while.”
Cal didn’t respond. The regular rhythm of his jogging body lulled her into an exhausted daze. She had no idea how long he ran as she clung to him, half-asleep, before he slowed to a walk and patted her leg.
“Laur.”
She made an enquiring sound that wasn’t quite a word.
“Lauren.”
Forcing her head up, she asked almost coherently, “What’s wrong?”
“You need to walk,” he said, letting her slide down until her feet touched the ground. “We’ll be coming into view of the town soon.”
“Okay.” Her legs wobbled beneath her just standing still. She wasn’t sure how well walking was going to work.
Cal slung an arm across her back, supporting a good portion of her weight. She forced her feet to move, noticing that they were on a narrow dirt road. It actually could barely be called a road, since it wasn’t much more than two tire tracks cutting through the weeds.
“What’s the plan?” Lauren asked, trying to take her
mind off the burning ache in her thigh.
“We need another car.”
Although she thought about making yet another car-theft joke, she was just too tired. “Are we just going to walk down Main Street and grab one?”
“I am. You—” he scanned the few buildings marking the edge of town and then nodded toward something off to the right “—are going to hang out in the weeds behind that shed.”
“Sitting still while you fetch us some wheels?” She nodded. “I can get behind that.”
He glanced at her, his eyes dark.
“What?”
His arm tightened, taking even more of her weight. “I get worried when you’re compliant.”
She gave him a quick smile. “Don’t get used to it. Give me a night of sleep—okay, maybe a week of sleep—and I’ll be as contrary as ever.”
They followed the two-track road as it looped around the outskirts of the town. When they were parallel to the small structure Cal had picked for her hiding place, Lauren tried to look casual as she slipped alongside the shed. It was listing to one side and surrounded by junk. Picking her way through the rusted metal and scraps of lumber, she crouched down in the brown remains of the weeds. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay in her squatting position long, but she wanted to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. Sitting seemed a much more vulnerable position if something happened and she had to be up and running.
She looked around, trying to spot Calvin, but he’d already disappeared. The shed blocked her view of town except for the house that appeared to belong to the tilted structure currently giving her cover. The house had obviously been abandoned by everything except rodents a long time ago. Almost all of the windows were covered in plywood and the roof sagged in the middle like an undercooked cake.
Lauren resisted the urge to peek around the corner of the shed to see if she could see Cal committing his umpteenth felony. She could hear faint sounds from town—the hum and growl of vehicles, the slam of a door, strains of country music from someone’s car or home. She shifted her weight, feeling warning tingles in her feet as they threatened to fall asleep. Rising to a more upright crouch, she gritted her teeth as her toes woke up in a rush of pins and needles.
