Fugitives

by Jes Drew

Chapter One

  Washington DC—5:00

  “You don't even have to come up with the plans.”

  I shake my head to try and stop the words from echoing in my mind as I shove my hands into the pockets of my nineteen fifties vintage coat- to compliment my matching brown suit, though not my modern boots- that I wear both to satiate my strange affection for that particular decade and to ward off the autumn chill.

  You won't even have to come up with the plans. What a nice way Liam had of telling me I wasn't even in charge of my own team anymore. The team I founded. The team I dismantled.

  The team I'm being called back to- but not as the leader.

  And that's not even the worst part.

  Grabbing my revolver, I take it out of my left pocket and aim it. I shoot two bullets, one in each of the back tires of the Maserati speeding away from me.

  Such a shame.

  The gorgeous car continues forward a few yards before skidding to a stop. Then I stride forward to the shotgun seat. Just in time to hear a different kind of shotgun going off.

  “Blast,” I mutter, dropping to the ground to avoid being hit and rolling underneath the car to the other side. Then I climb up and shoot around it at my target's accomplice.

  The accomplice shooting at me panics and takes off running, and I let him go- I'll let the man waiting just around the corner take care of him. The cops like to do the arresting anyway.

  Then I stride back to the driver's side.

  The window rolls down, and a golden-haired dame leans out it, smoking a cigarette. “How'd you know it was me, Clark?”

  “I've known for a while,” I answer, opening the door for her so I can escort her to the heat myself. “I just got a tighter time window.”

  “Oh?”

  I tip my stringy bin fedora at her before taking her arm in mine. “Been drafted into duty.”

  “But there's no war going on.”

  “Not that kind of duty, I'm afraid. Not that kind.”

  From Chapter Three

  Atheists after relics. Pink-haired women after me. What a strange mission.

  The strangeness of it all leads me to take a detour on the way from our base house to my office. Maybe I have some files on something.

  I unlock my door and step inside the dark room, going to the back, by my files, before bothering to turn on the light.

  “Here we go,” I say, unlocking one of my filers.

  “Here we go what?”

  To my shame, I startle- I've really gotten out of practice as an agent- and turn to the source of the voice.

  And find a young woman. Or, at least, I assume she's a young woman. Between her old-fashioned bonnet and the net over her face, it's hard to tell. But the way she holds herself in her classic skirt suit as she pulls off her gloves supports my first assumption.

  It also supports my second assumption that she is a fan of 1950s styles also.

  Curious, I sit down in my desk chair and pull up to my desk between us. “Please, take a seat.”

  “Oh, thank you.” She delicately settles herself in the chair on the other side of the desk, and when she looks back up, I see through the net that, despite not seeing her face very well, she is obviously young. And beautiful.

  And strangely familiar.

  I find myself curiouser and curiouser. Taking of my fedora, I lean back and bring my boots up onto my desk. “And who might you be, ma'am?”

  “Loretta,” she whispers. “Loretta Lovely.”

  I'd say. She is certainly a lovely enigma.

  I clear my throat to remind myself that the attraction is supposed to be the other way around.

  “Clark,” I say. “Kristian Clark.”

  “I know. That's why I'm here. I have a case-”

  I bring my boots back down. “I'm afraid I don't do those anymore. I have another job now-”

  “That other job is why I'm here.”

  Freezing mid-word, I lean forward. “What do you know?”

  She leans forward too, so that that tantalizing net of hers is just inches away. “I know that you have recently been drafted into an agency known as the Elite Strategy and Enforcement. I also know that you are displeased with that arrangement.”

  “How could you know-”

  “The way you tensed up when I said the name.”

  Curse my reflexes. And my long-buried training. “And about the ESE?”

  She smiles demurely behind her net. “I have my sources.”

  “Well, what else do your sources say?”

  “That there's more to the ESE than meets the eye. Things that could lead to its early demise.”

  I pull out one of my cigars and play with it. “I'm listening.”

  Her smile broadens. “We have reason to believe that the ESE has been infiltrated by a Neo sympathizer. Or maybe a Neo themselves.”

  My cigar stops mid-twirl. “I know these people. It's not them.”

  “I'm not talking about the field agents. But the leadership pulling the strings- even possibly that tech army of theirs. You're loyal to the United States government, but you may very possibly be a puppet of the Neos.”

  “And what proof do you have?”

  “Nothing substantial enough for the government to accept. That's where you come in.”

  I sit up. “This is ridiculous. Hearsay.”

  “But if it's true?”

  I grunt.

  “Look, if it is true, you've stopped a terrible conspiracy that will involve you and your closest friends, as well as liberated yourself from a job you never wanted. And if it's not true.” She shrugs. “You haven't lost anything.”

  Shrugging, I stand up and go to open the door for her. “I'll consider it.”

  “Brilliant,” she says, pausing in the doorway. “I'll meet you back here in two days at the same time.”

  With that, she's gone.

  “I said I'd consider it,” I mutter to no one before closing the door. Oh, well, I didn't make any obligations to rendezvous with a mysterious, beautiful woman in my office after dark…

  Then again, I didn't say I wouldn't.

  Smiling to myself, I turn to finally light my cigar and find that it's gone. “Well, isn't that just peculiar.”

  Excerpt from My Time in Amar, Book One (by Nicki Chapelway):

  A Week of Werewolves, Faeries, and Fancy Dresses

  Chapter One

  I Collide with a Duck Pond

  For me, normal died on Tuesday.

  I'm still mourning it.

  Dead leaves crunch under my feet as I force my legs to move faster. I trip over a jutting root, but manage to catch myself just before I face-plant. My heart beats painfully in my chest and my lungs burn. Sweat trickles into my eyes, causing them to sting and my vision to blur.

  I raise a shaking hand to swipe at them, trying to relieve the pain. A branch slaps across my cheek, but I don't let it slow me down. I'm already bleeding in several areas on my neck, face, arms, and legs- what are a few more cuts and bruises?

  I hurtle over a fallen tree before risking a quick glance over my shoulder. I hope I won't trip over any roots or overgrown weeds while my eyes are otherwise occupied.

  I scan the deceptively picturesque forest- a perfect blend of green foliage and rich brown tree trunks- for the creature that’s trying to eat me.

  I say creature because I’m not entirely sure what it is. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s huge, at least three hundred pounds, and covered in matted brown fur with beady eyes and a giant slobbering snout full of wicked, sharp teeth. It kind of looks like a cross between a bear and a boar. I just call it the beast.

  The beast has been chasing me since I wandered past its cave when the portal first deposited me here. It feels like it’s been hours since I was unceremoniously dumped in this world without so much as a by-your-leave, but it probably hasn’t even been forty-five minutes.

  I wouldn’t still be alive if it had been hours.

  I mean, I’ve been here only forty-
five minutes and already I’ve spent the majority of that time running for my life.

  I don’t see the beast behind me. I gasp in a ragged breath, filling my air-starved lungs. I stumble to a stop and lean into a nearby tree. I rest my cheek against the rough bark and close my eyes with a groan.

  This is officially the worst.

  My dry tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I reach for my backpack before I remember that I don’t have it. Because of course the portal that brought me to this world had to arrive the one time I didn’t have my backpack on me.

  It’s for instances just as this, that I packed it in the first place.

  But no. The stupid, rude portal had to arrive and whisk me off to this world- Amar, or so the only person I actually met here called it- while I was washing my hands and did not have my backpack on me.

  As a howl echoes through the forest, I straighten and search the forest around me. My old friend beast is still on the prowl.

  I clutch at my chest as if the mere presence of my hand will keep my heart from forcing its way past my rib-cage.

  How much more running can I handle? My spaghetti noodle-esque legs inform me not much, and my traitorous stomach informs me that it plans to mutiny if I don’t get food into it soon.

  My whole body trembles, but whether from fear or exhaustion, I have no idea.

  I could use a nap.

  An all-you-can-eat buffet would also be nice.

  I'm hungry, thirsty, tired, scared witless, and lost, and I would really like to avoid becoming lunch on top of that. I force myself to take a calming breath as I take in the thick green foliage and majestic trees that surround me, reaching for the heavens.

  I don’t recognize anything. Of course, I'm not expecting to. I’ve only been to Amar four times (this being the fourth), and all my other stops here have brought me to different places: a hill near a small village on Tuesday; I didn't see where I was on Wednesday because of a torrential downpour; on Thursday I landed in the middle of a large body of water, a lake or a sea or something like that (I got almost as drenched then as I had on Wednesday). That leaves me with today, Friday, in which I am chased by an ugly beast through a dense forest.

  Still the unfamiliar landscape feels daunting. I have no idea which way to go, and if I just pick a random path I might end up coming across beast’s relatives on their way to a family dinner or… something even worse. But I can’t stay here. Beast will just have to follow my scent (eau de sweaty girl), and BAM! Free lunch.

  “You know, now would be a really good time for you to appear, you stupid portal!” I holler into the still forest. Several birds in a nearby tree startle and fly off.

  I bite my lip and wrap my arms around myself. I hope I didn’t just draw the attention of something bigger and hungrier than the beast.

  But seriously. This doesn’t happen. At least it’s not supposed to happen. Unsuspecting, teenage girls should not have to worry about getting dragged off to a fantasy world that’s filled with monsters that want to eat her! They should have to worry about where they last misplaced their Geometry textbook.

  Suddenly the temperature drops. I shiver and rub the goosebumps forming on my arm. A wide smile breaks out across my face. Well it’s about time! My ears pop and everything around me is washed in a blue light. There is a snapping, tearing sound and the area in front of me opens to a blue swirling vortex.

  The portal pulls me in with a gust of wind. Everything else around me remains still as if the portal wasn’t even there. For some reason it only ever affects me and anything I might be touching.

  I wouldn't be able to choose not to go through the portal, even if I don't want to (which is always the case when it appears while I'm still at earth) the suction pulling me in is too strong.

  The portals seem to take me to only two places- home and Amar (at least I’m assuming this is all Amar). As far as I can tell, the portal will appear, take me to Amar, leave me here for a little while, and then return to take me home.

  I know- weird. I still have no idea why this is happening to me, but I’m sure there's a very reasonable explanation for it (one that doesn’t involve me going crazy, that is). I'm still just trying to get over the shock of there being another world/dimension/whatever this is, other than earth. Or why it decided to pick on me- me- of all people to pick on.

  I'm temporarily blinded by a bright flash of bluish light as I stumble through the portal. I cross my fingers, hoping that the portal drops me off somewhere ideal (like a hot tub), and not somewhere unideal (Wednesday the portal deposited me on top of my neighbor’s birdbath and I had to pay for the damages I caused when I landed on it).

  My ears pop again and the end of the portal opens up in front of me revealing black asphalt and the bright blur of speeding cars. Before I even have a chance to consider the odds of surviving after being dumped in the middle of a busy intersection, the portal spews me out with a mighty gust of wind.

  I have enough time to think, I am so roadkill, before I hear honking. I look up to see a speeding truck bearing down on me.

  The driver slams his brakes and I dive out of the way- right into a duck pond on the side of the road.

  Have you ever fallen into a duck pond before? If the answer is no. Then good for you. Because let me tell you; duck ponds are disgusting.

  I hit the duck pond with a splash, startling several ducks and geese (I guess they don't understand that this is a duck pond) who quack (and honk) angrily before flying off. The slimy, overly warm water envelopes me and I slip under the surface, pulled down by the weight of my clothes. However, fortunately for me, I'm an excellent swimmer. I kick upward, ignoring the chunks of stuff (for lack of a better word) I see floating around me.

  I surface with a gasp and shove several soggy tendrils of hair that have escaped from my braid out of my face. I look around, expecting to find some concerned person offering me their hand to help pull me out of the water, but the driver isn't there. He must have driven on unconcerned.

  Jerk.

  I swim the short distance to the edge of the pond and drag myself out. I collapse on the grassy bank and gasp for breath.

  I hear a honk and glance up to see a goose sitting a little to my right glaring at me with angry, beady little eyes. The goose opens its beak and hisses at me.

  “Oh, shoo,” I tell the goose grumpily. I'm not in the mood to be bullied by a goose now on top of everything else. “And if you bite me, I'm warning you, I'd be inclined to bite you back.” I wave my arm toward him and the goose, like the coward he is, flies off.

  After that, I drag myself to my feet. I look down at my dripping self, then I glance back at the murky duck pond. I shudder. I don't even want to think about what I just submerged my whole body in.

  I turn to see a six-year-old kid sitting in a car stopped at a red light, staring at me, mouth agape.

  “What are you looking at?” I ask sharply. I’m not normally this irritable, but given the day I'm having, I think I've earned myself some slack.

  The little boy swallows hard and shakes his head. “N-nothing, Mrs. Swamp monster, ma’am.”

  Swamp monster? You, sir, are mistaken. This is a duck pond, not a swamp. There’s a difference.

  “Yeah, duck ponds are more disgusting,” I mutter to myself as I look down at my clothes. My jeans and tee-shirt are covered in grime and- ew, is that a wrapper? My sneakers are soggy and probably completely destroyed inside and out, not that I plan on ever wearing them again after what they've been through.

  I inspect the cuts on my arms I got from running through the forest. The water has washed away the blood leaving nothing but tiny, sore scrapes. I don't even want to consider how many bacteria are swarming those cuts right now. When I get home I'm scrubbing my skin with disinfectant.

  Which leaves me with the obvious question of, where is my home? I recognize the duck pond. I’ve passed it plenty of times on my way home. I just never thought I’d actually swim in it.

  I turn in the direction of our
road and start walking.

  I get quite a few odd looks, but I ignore them. I only hope that none of the people who go to my school see me. I wonder what “clever” insults they would come up with. Chelsea the quack? The chick who swims with chicks (when in fact it would be ducklings I was swimming with- and maybe a few goslings)?

  I wrap my arms around myself, duck my head, and quicken my pace. Maybe no one will recognize me. I mean, it's not like I really look like myself right now, sopping wet and covered in duck slime as I am.

  Finally, I make it to our road. I start to turn down it, but I only make it two steps before I think better of it. It was bad enough to have to walk down the intersection looking like this, but the street I live on too? I'd never live it down.

  I veer off course and plunge into the strip of woods that is behind every house on our block.

  Our house is the fourth down so I make it to it relatively quickly. The woods are much easier to navigate than the forest in Amar- much less dense and far fewer trees. Still, I'm too tired to bother avoiding the branches and they tear into my clothes. Oh well, they were ruined anyway.

  I step out of the woods into my backyard, trying to dust leaves off my soggy shirt. I hear a bark and glance up to see that Hercules, our little white, fluffy guard dog, is out. I smile. Finally a stroke of good luck. This means that the backdoor will be unlocked.

  I hurry onto the deck. Hercules jumps around me excitedly sniffing my legs.

  “Yes, Hercules, I'm happy to see you too,” I say patting his head.

  Hercules sniffs one exceptionally foul looking stain on my pants leg and sneezes. He hurries off to go stand guard near the side of our house and keep watch over the neighborhood.

  I turn and reach for the doorknob, but I pause as I try to figure out what I should say if anyone sees me looking like this.

  The duck pond would be pretty hard to explain away. Not to mention, I have no idea where I should say I’ve been for the past fifty minutes.

  I just really need to get inside without anyone noticing me. I can throw away the clothes so Mom doesn't see them when she does the laundry. She might wonder what happened to this outfit, but it’s better than her wondering where the tears and slime came from.