Breaking eye contact, Jareth lets out a sigh of relief. Dimple poking out, he turns to the alien. “So, what’s this network you need?”
I swear the guy doesn’t have an ounce of self-preservation. Is everything a game, or some great big cosmic joke?
The dark figure doesn’t speak for a moment.
“What if you’re wrong?” Tension twists my insides into knots. “And the alien’s getting ready to light us up like the Fourth of July?”
“I don’t think so.” He pushes his hand, palm down, toward the ground, as if telling me to stand down. “I’ve a gut feeling about it.”
The helmet swivels in my direction; the movement smooth and odd, not an action I could perform without putting a crick in my neck.
His precise shift causes my blood to run cold, because it’s another layer to its story, another reminder that something dreadful—something foreign—stands in my presence.
“The hub network to re-connect, repair, and get instructions. You will escort me.”
The gall of this thing requesting an escort, as if humans owe it anything, ratchets up my anger another notch. I cross my arms over my chest. This has to be one of the dumbest ideas in the history of the world.
Jareth lifts an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes and throw my hands in the air, letting him know what I think about his new “friend”.
He refocuses on the alien. “If we escort you, I need you to promise you won’t hurt anyone in the group.”
I choke back a shocked cry. “Hold on a damn minute. We’re not escorting that thing—murderer—to its kind. That’s suicide.” Waving my left hand in the air, I jab it into Jareth’s chest. “I thought we were going to pump him for information?” The solid blow makes my finger ache.
His mouth tightens, and he pushes the finger away from his chest. “I know.” His voice is quiet. “But if he can’t connect to whatever this network is, he won’t know we aren’t taking him wherever it is he wants to go.”
His face smooths. “Besides, I got this under control, Red. Sit back and let Daddy do the driving.”
“W-what?” I sneer at the awful image his comment creates. “You’re absolutely revolting. My dad’s dead, asshole. And I sure as fuck don’t see you that way.”
He holds his hands out. “Settle down, spitfire. It’s a figure of speech.” He scratches the top of his head then turns his attention to the asshole alien. “So, we can travel to Florida but keep him with us. It’ll give us more time to learn what they want.”
“So.” His head tilts in my direction, and one corner of his mouth lifts. “In what way do you see me?”
Ignoring the question, I decide I don’t want to play his little games when debating the fate of our lives in front of an audience.
“Whatever. Interrogate the bastard.” The back of my head begins to ache in contemplation of this idiotic plan. He wants me to be okay with traveling alongside a thing that’s a constant reminder of the death of everyone I’ve ever known. And I’m supposed to be okay with that? I was hoping we would question the bastard and then push him off a cliff.
“I don’t know, Jareth. I can’t decide if this is the most ridiculous plan in the world, or if it’s so dumb it might be genius.” On the plus side, keeping him with the group means I don’t have to live in terror, worrying about reinforcements heading our way. “Since it’s your plan, I’m leaning toward the former.”
He rolls his eyes and smirks.
I step closer, not out of choice, but out of necessity, because I want my quiet words to reach his ears. “What do you think he means when he talks about a network? Do they communicate with each other, like a hive of bees, or the Borg in Star Trek?” One of my hands rubs an upper arm to warm the chill that settles over my skin.
This close, his muscular frame shields me from the alien’s view.
His chest shifts forward, closing the one-inch gap between our bodies.
I have to lift my chin or risk smashing my nose into his chiseled pecs.
His voice is silk. “That would be my guess.” One of his arms rise, and he hesitates before settling a hand on my shoulder. “Seriously, though, I think it’s going to be okay. If he wanted to kill us, we’d be dead by now.”
“Wow. That’s about as comforting as your stupid door.”
His chuckle is low and provocative, sending a flash of heat spiraling throughout my limbs and to my heart. It wraps itself around my body like hot ribbons of satin.
Hello, earth to Tilly, get your mind out of the gutter.
Damn it, how am I supposed to keep up my end of the conversation when he makes my gray matter go numb and my body feel like it’s on fire?
I bump his hand from my shoulder, eager to shake his scorching palm from my skin and the timber of his laughter from my ears.
Jareth’s right, though. If that asshole wanted us dead, he could’ve already fried us to crispy pieces.
This crazy plan means we’ll be walking next to the alien day after day, a constant reminder of humanity’s death—and our own. What if he gets a wild hair and turns into Sparky the Killer Alien? The temptation of gaining useful information might be worth the risk, however.
Can’t get my hopes up, though. One thing at a time. My goal is to survive and find Sissy—must remember that first and foremost.
My foot taps at the ground and I raise my eyes to the tree branches, thinking. “If Sparky here hurts my dog, I’m going to take my Remington and blow his repugnant head off. Then, I’m going to put some pellets in your ass, too.”
Jareth snickers. “You called him Sparky. You’re giving nicknames now?”
I smooth my shirt, unwilling to meet his gaze. “Well, yeah, I was getting tired of calling him alien or robot, and the electricity made me think of sparks.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, but Sparky? It sounds like something you’d name a dog.”
I glance at the alien to see if he’s following our conversation. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
Jareth raises an eyebrow. “Dang, Red, simmer down.”
My head turns in disgust, and I tuck my hands under my elbows.
When he doesn’t say anything else, I shrug.
Jareth’s eyes flash and his lips quiver.
I can’t tell if he’s trying to hide a smile or irritation.
The robot breaks the peace. “Human female, this unit has no need of a designation. Alien, off lander, or extraterrestrial will suffice; offense is not part of a Carrier’s programming.”
A glare shoots from my eyes. Why does it even matter? Why do I feel the need to explain myself? “What’s a Carrier?” I whisper.
“Beats me.”
I move around him and plant my feet on the ground before the dark figure. The empty, obsidian-colored helmet shifts down, and my finger jabs into the chest. The cloth makes a scratching sound on my nail.
“Yeah? Well, naming things is in my programming. We humans like to identify things. It gives distinctiveness to our surroundings and helps us distinguish one another—at least, it used to before your kind decided we should no longer be part of this world.
“Human programming.” The abyss of a face looks on.
“Not only do you have to promise not to hurt anyone—including my dog, asshole—but you also have to help the group until you reach your network—whatever the hell that’s supposed to be.”
My finger stabs into his chest even firmer than before.
“You understand?”
I don’t know if I’m trying to incite a response, or if I’m testing my own courage.
Can we trust it to keep its word? Does this alien even know what a promise is? At this point, does it matter? We’ll lose our lives if we’re wrong, and at least I’ll have the satisfaction of being right and not dying alone.
A hush hangs in the air as if the trees are listening to our conversation. Even the faint chirp of birds is on temporary hiatus.
Kodiak moves between Jareth and me, erect and nose pointing to Sparky. His snarl d
ies, but he keeps his teeth exposed, waiting for a reason to bite. His blue and brown eyes are alert and shining, short whiskers bristling.
The black-clad figure backs up a step. “I can guarantee I will not harm this group of humanoids and canine. I will endeavor to help in the journey if, in exchange, you render assistance on reaching the network.”
Fat chance of that. I’m going to make sure you never make it to your people, and bleed you dry in the meantime.
I scowl and turn around to face Jareth. “So be it. This is on your head if he hurts anyone—or worse.”
“Noted.” He directs his next comment to the alien. “So, who runs the hub?” He pauses as if awaiting a response. Nothing. “Does your software use command prompts?” Silence. “Do you have any hobbies?”
I roll my eyes. “You’re an idiot, Jareth.
His teeth flash and a dimple peeks.
“Good luck with that.” The thought of standing this close to Sparky makes me feel like I’m swallowing a glass of sour milk. “Come on, Kodiak. Let’s get out of here.” The toe of my boot dislodges a small pebble from the ground, and I kick it, putting as much force behind the impact as possible. “Something stinks, and it isn’t me.”
“You sure about that?” Jareth bites back a smile.
“Yep.” The man is insane. “Just as sure as I know you’re an asshole who likes to flirt with death.”
“Ouch. You’re such a mean little thing, Red.” He begins a slow strut in my direction, narrow hips and long legs inching closer. “It’s kind of a turn on.”
I flee in the direction of the cave, with Kodiak trailing behind.
Insufferable jackass.
Locating ammunition in a cardboard box under one of Jareth’s tables, I stuff as much as my bag will hold. If I’m going to be traveling with a mass murderer and an asshole, it’s prudent to make sure there’s ample ammo.
Chapter Eight
Jareth’s rucksack, full of supplies and threatening to burst at the seams, bounces on his back. He’s in the lead, which suits him fine. Sparky trails behind, mirroring his steps.
Kodiak and I bring up the rear. The weight of the Remington offers reassurance. It’d take less time for me to retrieve the weapon than for the hiveless brain to compute a secret plan, but even then, a girl’s gotta be careful.
“You’re either an adrenaline junkie or a fool.” This hiking formation, mine in design, allows a bird’s eye view of the alien searching for a plugin and the smartass, too.
“Why’s that, Red?”
“Because there’s no way in hell I’d let that monster walk behind my exposed back.”
One jittery hand rests in the front pocket of my jeans, and the other grips the strap of my holster—just in case. Every little move the humanoid makes causes me to jump, sure lightning will streak from the long fingers.
Now that I can see the twisted tree roots, it’s easy to avoid tripping over my feet in the broad daylight.
Kodiak walks by my side. He keeps his nose in the air, and his attention on the dark form ahead of him. His ears flicker with each step the alien takes. I have the feeling he’s as nervous as me.
“There’s a lot less cactus around here than where I came from. In West Texas, it’s impossible to walk through scrub without getting stabbed by needles or bitten by diamondback rattlers.” I’m uneasy on so many levels; from the killer in our midst, the exposure of being in the light of day, to the man who leads this motley crew. My blabber serves to fill the silence.
“Be careful,” Jareth tosses out. “There’re still timber rattlers in this part of Texas.”
“What’s the difference between timber rattlers and diamondbacks?” I’ve never heard of timber rattlers, but I’ve also never been this far east, either. I was a homebody before everything went to hell in a handbasket.
“Not much of a difference. Both are venomous, but the timber—Crotalus horatus—likes forests. Whereas, the diamondback—Crotalus atrox—likes the desert climates. They both hide in rocks.”
“You know their scientific names? What are you—a herpetologist?” A small chuckle sneaks out at the thought of him cozying up to snakes and reptiles. Somehow, the image doesn’t seem too far-fetched.
“Red, I know something about everything.” The smugness of his tone drips sarcasm.
“Oh, yeah? Might I suggest you study up on hubris, then? Seems like you missed that lesson.” He’s one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met, but his comment also reminds me that at least he has one imperfection—that smart-ass attitude.
I give the rocks and boulders a wide berth, though. No sense in tempting fate.
The road begins to appear through gaps between tree trunks, and the dark orb from the night before takes shape. It still sits on the pavement, balancing its perfect sphere body on the asphalt, and defies man’s perception of physics.
I slip the shotgun out of its sling, sure this will be the point where Sparky comes to life, reconnects, or whatever the fuck he needs to do when he sees the pod.
Jareth stops, and the alien steps to the side in a flash. I barely register the movement before colliding with Jareth’s back.
My arms and hands fumble for a moment, scraping at the leather of his jacket before I manage a backward jump. I’m loath to touch him any more than needed. Why? I’m not sure if it’s because there’s a bundle of fear that lies deep within of being so close to another man again, or because a thread of alarm snakes its way into my heart at the possibility I might enjoy contact with this specific guy.
Abilene, remember? All too well.
My lungs pull oxygen in like a lifeline to calm fraying nerves before I air my grievance at the abrupt stop. “What are you doing?”
He sets his pack down on the pavement. A slight breeze blows across the open road, lifting stray hairs from his neck. “This is the perfect time to do some investigation, don’t you think?”
Sparky continues to stand on Jareth’s opposite side, still and quiet. He better stay still and quiet. I’ve got a bullet with his name on it.
I prop the gun’s open barrel on the ground and let the butt rest on my leg. My fingers rub at the tension building in my neck.
Kodiak wanders closer to the sphere with his nose to the ground.
“Don’t pee on it again, Kodiak. Stay away—it’s dangerous.”
The curly-headed pain in the ass strides to the pod. “Come check it out with me. Let’s see if there’s anything fun in here.”
“You’re crazy. Isn’t it bad enough we have—” I throw a hand toward Sparky, “—that thing with us?”
The dark helmet directs itself to Jareth.
His face glows with mischief. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Just admit it.”
“No, I’m not scared.” I shake my head. “I’m practical. There’s no good reason we should be messing around with this technology.” As if to prove my point, I take a couple of steps back, putting a little more distance between me and the spacecraft.
Jareth clucks his tongue and shrugs. “If you say so. Bok, bok.”
“You’re such an ass,” I whisper.
He pops his head into the sphere, but his muffled voice carries on the wind. “I heard that.”
How the hell does he hear every little thing?
The openness of highway is unsettling, and a spike of fear shoots through my heart. I move my head in every direction, realizing he left me alone with Sparky. “Hey, get your ass back out here. I’m not babysitting this thing.”
A gentle breeze becomes a gust, and the chill it carries causes a shiver. I rub up and down the sleeves of my jacket to encourage the blood to flow faster. “Don’t you dare start pushing buttons.”
His hands rest on the frame of the sphere’s opening. He says something, but his words, a jumbled mess of vowels and consonant blends, are unintelligible.
“Did you hear me?” Yep. He’s an idiot. “That thing’s dangerous.”
His head reappears. “Ahh. I didn’t realize you cared.” H
e sports a grin from one ear to the other.
“I don’t. If you want to get yourself killed, be my guest. But I do care if you put my dog at risk. Besides, what if numb nuts here finds a way to reconnect?”
“Relax, little worry wart. He’d have done it already. I’m curious to see if there’s anything in here we can use.”
“I don’t want anything from in there—neither should you.”
The alien continues to stand, head facing Jareth’s direction.
“Let’s just go. Please?” Self-hatred pulses within me when the word please sneaks out. I detest showing this bit of weakness, but Jareth has hit a nerve. That dead—maybe-not-dead—sphere sitting on the road defying gravity spooks me. The farther away I get, the better I’ll feel.
Jareth leans farther out to peer at my face. His smile drops and he steps back onto the ground. “There’s nothing in there anyway but symbols— writing if you can call it that.”
He grabs his rucksack and begins to follow the yellow line in the middle of the road. The trees on each side of the road wave with the wind.
Thank God he’s finished monkeying around with that thing.
Stiffly, Sparky marches past the crime scene, and follows Jareth just like Kodiak follows me. This gets my gears turning. “His head. It’s weird, don’t you think?”
Kodiak leaves my side to sniff the downed craft one last time.
“In what way?” He motions for Sparky to walk at his side. “Come here.”
Without hesitation, the being obeys and strolls next to Jareth.
“Well, the faceless void for one. And his head moves funny, way more agile than a human.” My foot stumbles on a loose chunk of pavement, and I start to slip. “He reminds me of those old-fashioned toys made with gears and sprockets.” My pinwheeling arms try to counterbalance my forward motion.
Don’t fall in front of him, because it would make his day.
The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1) Page 13
