by JL Spelbring
Angela admired the man, though. He had grit. Even after her brutality, Rein had peered at her through swollen lids, their piercing green filled with defiant animosity. If not for Dyllon, she would’ve knocked him hard enough to shut his eyes permanently. The captain’s heart was too soft, and lacked the fortitude necessary to perform the tasks needed to extract information. Such relentlessness took a special type of person. A person like her.
And to think, Dyllon had almost tainted her thinking with his style of policing—forming bonds and such. What a sucker she’d been.
Angela supposed she should be somewhat thankful Dyllon had held her in check. Dr. Hirch certainly wouldn’t have been pleased if she’d brought back a dead prisoner who had ties to Ellyssa. She just wanted to gather what information she could before returning to The Center.
When the beating had failed to elicit anything, Angela had tried psychology, tossing the remains of the dead Renegade she’d found in the cavern at Rein’s feet, telling him how his so-called friends had left him to die. She had hoped such an act of cruelty would’ve had some effect on Rein, much like the tactics Vlad Tepes or Hitler had used, but it didn’t produce the desired effect. His loyalty to the Renegades was commendable…and infuriating. He’d mumbled a goodbye to the dead man, which had earned him her baton against the side of his head.
Her dreams of destroying the camp of Renegades and capturing the doctor’s prized possession had dissipated into a wisp of smoke.
Now, Angela sat across from the sleeping prisoner, defeated—not only by Ellyssa, but by ignorant Renegades, who were too loyal for their own good. With all that had gone wrong, she would never prove herself an equal to The Center’s children. Anger twisted and coiled in her gut, wanting to strike.
Angela pulled her gun free of its hidden holster and slid the cold metal down Rein’s cheek. He didn’t wake. He didn’t even move. He slept, oblivious to the death staring at him with one lethal eye.
Pulling the trigger would be such sweet bliss, but if she acted on her desires now, she’d be the one on the run. For the time being, she’d wait. One way or another, she’d have her victory.
She slipped the gun back into its concealed holster and looked out the window. They were close to Chicago. Farmlands on the outskirts of the city stretched for kilometers and kilometers. Yellowed stalks, left over from harvesting, stuck out from the rich soil. Soon, they would pass the dairy farms where Holstein cattle grazed lazily in the pastures, then buildings would dominate the landscape, architectural monuments of brick, steel, and glass.
She checked her watch. Twenty more minutes. A car would be ready at the station, and she and the prisoner would be picked up and taken straight to The Center.
She’d be home.
37
A white farmhouse materialized in the wavering distance on the other side of the plowed field. The two days of travel had been fast and nonstop, and Ellyssa was beyond exhausted. Hunger knotted her stomach and her muscles ached. Not the good type of ache born from physical activity, but the sort that came just before collapse.
If she felt this way, she could only imagine how Woody must be feeling. He should be faring far worse than she, but she’d never know it by looking at him. Through the whole journey, he’d kept pace with her. Even now, as she crept behind him in the ditch where tall grass tickled her skin and the scent of earth reached her nose, his steps were sure and strong, and his movements were lithe, like a cat.
Maybe she gave herself too much credit for being physically superior.
Woody stopped and pointed. “There it is,” he said, his words drawn out from lack of sleep.
The corner of her mouth pulled back skeptically.
“I promise they can be trusted.”
“I understand.” Ellyssa said the words, but she had trouble believing them. Every fiber of her being was apprehensive of contacting people living in society, even though Woody had assured her they were old friends, and very dependable. It’d been hard enough to trust her adoptive family, but to give that trust to complete strangers who lived within society was on a whole different scale.
She looked up at the sky, where the sun loomed lazily in the eastern sky. “It’s almost mid-morning.”
“They’ll get us to the train on time. This isn’t their first rodeo.”
Ellyssa wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.
Keeping within the overgrowth, they scurried around the harvested field to the end of the wooden fence and down into a ditch. Down the way and across the street stood the farmhouse. Several small mounds of orange and red leaves dotted the front yard.
Hunkered down in the ditch where long blades of brown grass hid his head, Woody faced Ellyssa. Sweat and grime glued leaves and grass to his hair, and dirt smudged his cheek and chin.
“Sarah and Tim are old, but they’ve been part of our extended family for years. As a matter of fact, Tim’s parents had helped some of the first Renegades.”
“Are you sure they can get us to the train by one?”
Woody smiled. “No problem. After all, he manages the only delivery service in Warrensburg. He’s our main source of supplies.” He reached out and squeezed her hand before spinning around and walking duck-like toward the drainage sluice.
Ellyssa wished her confidence matched Woody’s, but it didn’t. Nothing had felt right since Rein’s capture, as if her whole world hung by a frayed string. If it broke, so would she. Blowing out pent-up air, she mimicked Woody’s waddling steps.
At the end of the ditch, Woody paused, looked left and right, and then, without one word of warning, shot out of the trench, like a rabbit, and sprinted across the street, behind some bushes, and to the side of the house. Ellyssa moved on his heels.
Woody stopped at a flat piece of metal that served as a cellar door. He opened it and gestured for Ellyssa to go first. She hesitated, as every instinct told her not to descend. Not to trust.
Once again, her old self squirmed to break free. For Rein, for her new life, she ignored that old voice’s warning. She descended seven rickety steps onto a stone floor landing. Cool musty air greeted her. Woody came down behind her, shutting the door with a muffled thud.
“I promise, it’s fine,” he stated, apparently sensing her mood.
He brushed by her; a second later, an overhead light cast a soft white glow. Despite the odor, the cellar was neat and well-maintained, free of cobwebs and dust.
Woody grabbed her hand and herded her up another set of stairs. He opened the door into a spotless kitchen. Bright yellow, like sunshine, trimmed the walls and cabinets, and a tablecloth with pictures of sunflowers and yellow lace covered a dinette. Pictures of fruit and vegetables hung from hooks, and knickknacks covered every available shelf. French doors opened into another living space where muffled voices, probably from a television, whispered softly.
“Who’s there?” called a female from the adjoining room, followed by a grunt as if she was struggling to stand.
The voice was old, but smooth and cheerful, and surprisingly without fear. Ellyssa couldn’t image anyone being so calm on hearing someone in their house. She, herself, would’ve attacked immediately and asked questions later.
Ellyssa edged into the shadows of the stairwell with thoughts of leaving, but Woody pulled her into the kitchen. He tossed her a reassuring smile.
A frail, thin female, barely taller than a teenager, shuffled into the kitchen, wearing a floral-print dress. Ellyssa thought a good stiff wind would toss her into the air. Her hair was the color of rain clouds, and wrinkles folded her skin. Her eyes widened when she recognized Woody, revealing a blue that defied her age, and a huge smile spread across her face.
“Woody!” the older female exclaimed. She shuffled over to him, her arms held out expectantly.
“Sarah, it’s so nice to see you,” Woody said as he hugged her. When he pulled away, he extended his hand toward Ellyssa. “This is my friend, Ellyssa.”
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
/>
Ellyssa felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
“And shy, too.” Sarah held her arms open. “Any friend of Woody’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she pulled Ellyssa into a hug.
Surprised at the reception, and unsure how to respond to Sarah’s unquestioning acceptance, Ellyssa’s arms hung limp at her sides. She glanced at Woody, who slyly smiled and shook his head.
“Now,” Sarah said, stepping back, “what can I do for you two?”
“We need to get on the train,” answered Woody.
“Which one?”
“This afternoon.”
“Oh.” She glanced at a clock hanging above a buffet. “That’s cutting it close.”
“But you can do it?”
“Have we failed any of you yet? I just need to get Tim.” Sarah opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of chicken and some potatoes. “I bet you’re hungry.”
At the sight of the food, Ellyssa’s stomach quivered in anticipation, but they didn’t have time for personal comfort. She placed her hand over her midsection to suppress the rumbling. “Not to be rude, but shouldn’t we be making preparations?”
“There is always time to eat.” Sarah placed the containers on the table and eyed Ellyssa. “You need to clean up a little, though.” She pointed to Woody. “You, too. There are fresh clothes in the linen closet. Change.”
He held his hands up in defeat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“But…” Ellyssa started to protest.
Woody cut her off. “No use in arguing. We won’t win.”
“He’s right. So both of you…scoot. I’ll get Tim.”
Ellyssa followed Woody through the living room, where she stopped in amazement. She always wondered what a real home looked like, but she never expected this. Soft colors added warmth to the homey living room. A small television sat on a shelf across from a tan couch. A grandfather clock ticked in the corner. The walls were painted eggshell, and family portraits hung from thin wires. It was completely different from either the sterile environment she’d grown up in, or the cavern where she now resided. No experiments or training; no hiding underground.
“What?” Woody asked.
“I have never been in a home.”
He frowned. “Really?”
“This room invites you in.” She ran her fingers across a mahogany table littered with glass figurines.
Woody smiled. “Come on.”
Ellyssa followed him down a short hall and into the bathroom. A soft blue set the tone in the clean and orderly washroom. A light, floral perfume scented the air and fuzzy rugs lay across the tiled floor. Lotions and soaps lined the shelf above the sink.
Woody handed her a towel and a washcloth. “Clean up,” he said, as he squirted soap onto his cloth.
Ellyssa scrubbed her face and arms, then dried them. As she ran a soft-bristled brush through her tangled hair, Woody left and returned a moment later with a clean pair of camo pants and a black T-shirt.
“I’ll go across the hall,” he said, handing her the clothes. He shut the door behind him.
As soon as she exchanged her filthy, stiff clothes with the fresh ones, Ellyssa felt better, more calm and relaxed. There was still much to be done, but the task didn’t seem as hopeless. Woody was right. His contacts would prove to be useful.
A knock sounded on the door. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Woody opened the door, and the scent of food followed. Ellyssa’s stomach voiced its outrage.
Laughing, Woody grabbed her hand and pulled her into the hallway. “Let’s eat.”
They entered the kitchen just as Sarah opened the back door.
“Have all you want,” the old female said, indicating the bowls on the table. “I’m going to fetch Tim.”
Ellyssa sat down at the table and glanced at Woody.
He plopped a spoonful of potatoes on his plate. “Make yourself at home,” he said, grabbing a chicken thigh.
She helped herself to the creamy potatoes and selected a piece of chicken. She took a bite and flavor exploded in her mouth. The seasoned bird was juicy and delicious, and the potatoes were buttery. She devoured everything on her plate, leaving only a few crumbs.
The back door opened and Sarah entered, followed by her husband, who wore service industry attire. Tim was a burly man with a rounded stomach, huge jowls, and a friendly face. Except for the beard he sported, he was hairless, including his eyebrows. His head was as shiny as a polished doorknob. He lit up when he saw Woody.
“Son, how’ve you been?” he asked, gripping Woody’s hand and shaking vigorously. “And who is this pretty girl?”
Ellyssa, once again, found herself blushing. Woody wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“This is Ellyssa. She’s new to the community.”
Tim eyed her for a moment, sizing her up. “I see.” He paused before holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ellyssa.”
Although he gripped her hand firmly, Tim didn’t shake it as vigorously as he had Woody’s. Maybe because she was a female, or maybe the man didn’t quite trust her.
“Nice to meet you, too, sir.”
“No need for formalities. We’re all friends. Just call me Tim.” He glanced at Woody. “What brings you here? I hope things are all right in the community?”
Woody’s face fell. “We just need to make the train.”
“Why the rush?” Tim asked, pulling on his beard.
“Listen, I don’t want to involve you any more than we have to.”
“I understand. One o’clock is cutting it close. You’re lucky Sarah came out when she did, I was just about to head out. I have a delivery to make. You can be part of it.”
Based on her upbringing, and her father’s betrayal, trust was something easier said than given, even after staying within the little community. Ellyssa couldn’t chance the possible consequences, not with Rein’s life at stake. With ease, she slipped into Sarah’s mind, then Tim’s. Guilt immediately followed. How she hated that emotion. Neither of them had ulterior motives. They were willing to help just as they’d done for years and years.
Without another word, Tim opened the back door and led them onto a wooden porch. A beautiful back yard stretched behind the house. Large apple and peach trees, still bearing harvestable fruit, reached toward the sky, and fall blossoms fragranced the air. A rock path led from the porch to the garage.
Tim led them into the garage where a cargo van waited. Shipping crates were stacked against one wall, while the other had a long table covered with labels and documents.
Rubbing his hands together, Tim looked around at the different containers. “Yes, that will do nicely.” He placed his hands on his hips in satisfaction.
“Will they not get suspicious?” asked Ellyssa, her tone monotonous. She hated the sound of her voice, but she couldn’t help it. Apprehension kept sneaking around in her and she needed to focus, not worry.
Pursing his lips, Tim gave her a hard stare. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Wary, Ellyssa hesitated a brief moment before answering, “No. Why?”
“The way you speak and your accent, both are dead giveaways. From The Center?”
She saw no reason to lie. “Yes. How did you know?”
“Sarah and I have been helping Renegades for more years than I can remember. You’re not the first I’ve met from The Center.”
Although Ellyssa had suspected the possibility of others escaping, Jeremy’s mother for instance, the thought of them crossing Tim and Sarah’s path surprised her. “You have met others?”
“Of course. Guess you haven’t heard about anyone running away though, have you?”
“No.”
“And you never will,” Tim stated with conviction as he crossed the room to a rectangle-shaped crate. He lifted the lid. “Your chariot.”
Ellyssa peeked inside the crate. The inside was lined with packing material. A comfortable ride, maybe, but one she wasn’t goi
ng to take. One thing she’d been taught was never to let herself be trapped. Always have an escape route. Shaking her head, she stepped back. “There must be another way.”
“Not unless you plan to walk. Take a look inside here,” he continued. “There is a latch that will let you out if the need arises.”
Tim fingered the release mechanism. A simple set up, one pull of the lever, and the lock popped open. That made her feel a little better, but her flesh still crawled when she thought about being locked up for the few hours. What if they piled stuff on top of her box? She suppressed a shudder and pushed the thought out of her mind.
“It’s very important for you to stay still. No moving. No talking. You understand?”
“Yes,” she said. She sounded more confident than she felt.
He moved to another crate and lifted the lid. “This is how it works. I’ll take you to the warehouse, get the rest of my load, then take you to the station. You’ll get loaded on the train, and a member of the Resistance will retrieve you at the other end. If all goes well, the next set of eyes you see will be on a friendly face.”
“And if things go wrong?”
“Then the whole operation will be a bust.” He tapped the wooden crate. “Hop in.”
Ellyssa glanced from the coffin-like box to Woody. He didn’t look too please with their travel accommodations either.
“Don’t worry, dear,” Sarah said, patting her shoulder reassuringly. “We’ve kept our work under the radar for decades. We know what we’re doing.”
Woody sidled over to Ellyssa and gave her a one armed hug. “Remember, this is for Rein,” he whispered in her ear. “I promise, nothing will happen.”
Keeping her eyes on Woody, Ellyssa stepped into the crate. His encouraging half-smile did nothing to make her feel better. Without any other recourse, she lay down. Tim closed the lid and she was instantly submerged in darkness.
Despite her calm demeanor, panic bloomed throughout her body. Her heart stuttered for a second before it picked up speed and pounded against her breastbone. Her breathing increased dramatically. An incredible desire to get the hell of that crate overwhelmed her.
