by Dean Murray
“Are you alright?” he asked softly.
“No,” I whined with a sniffle I knew sounded every bit as pathetic as I felt.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him roll his head from side to side. I knew he had meant physically, not emotionally, but he didn’t correct me. Instead, he helped me to my feet. And that was the end of the nurturing side of Nathan. “You have a cell phone on you?” he asked gruffly.
I dug into my jean’s pocket, withdrew my phone, and placed it into his outstretched hand. He pulled his arm back and chucked it into the woods behind me.
My mouth dropped open. “What the—” I gaped at him. “What did you do that for?”
“It can be traced.” There was that accusatory tone again. I wondered if that was how they had found us. Something about the rigidness of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils warned me not to ask.
I wanted to know who those guys were, and why they had tried to kill us, but I bit my tongue on those questions too. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. Not while Nathan was in his man-on-a-mission mode.
The list of questions grew, and grew.
Four crimson pools stained the gravel. Bullets littered the ground at my feet. I kept my eyes up to avoid the signs of death around me, and watched as Nathan climbed into the back of the Jeep. He tossed out my book bag, the sleeping bags, tent, water bottles, a few boxes of ammunition, and jumped down, wearing his baseball cap again.
He left me in the middle of the road, with the contents of the Jeep, to check out the other vehicles. I assumed for keys, but he returned with a map, a flash light, and a large camouflage sac big enough to carry all our stuff, with room to spare.
He spread the map out on the hood of one of the trucks and studied it with the flashlight. I was about to offer to load our things, but I had one of those feelings again.
“Are we walking?” I asked hesitantly.
He kept his face buried in the map. “Yep.”
I hesitated. It was almost too obvious. “You realize there are two perfectly suitable vehicles here, including the one you’re currently using?”
The Jeep and the truck that had rammed it were beyond drivable. The other two, aside from a few bullet holes, were fine.
“We can’t use them.”
I hated that tone he used with me. It kicked my attitude into high gear. “Why not?”
He glared at me. “If we use one of their trucks, they can track us. We won’t get far.”
Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. Instead of admitting to that oversight, I folded my arms and made a face at his back when he turned away to study the map again.
Suddenly, he stepped back with his face tipped up to the sky and turned in a half circle. When he started to look between the map, the sky, and the woods around us, I realized he was using the stars as a guide. I’d heard it was possible, but had never actually witnessed it before. It was pretty cool—and a little funny—to watch. When he seemed to have it figured out, he glanced at me, and I didn’t hide the amusement on my face.
“Let’s go.” He stuffed the map and flashlight into the camouflage bag along with the rest of our gear, and flung it over his shoulder.
“Wait,” I said. “Did you just use the stars as a guide?”
“Uh-huh.” He sounded bored as he started for the edge of the woods, opposite the direction I had run earlier.
“You learn that in the boy scouts?” I was impressed, though he couldn’t tell through all the sarcasm.
“I wasn’t a boy scout.”
No kidding. I was pretty sure they taught manners. “So, how did you learn to do that?”
He turned to me as I trotted across the road after him. His face carried a blend of reluctantly amused annoyance, but when his eyes flicked to mine briefly, and then snapped back a second later, all traces of humor were gone. I didn’t know what I had done to piss him off that fast, but the look on his face brought me up short, and I cowered as he closed the distance between us. He dropped the sac to the ground and tipped my face up to his. As he tilted it from side to side, I realized this was the first he had seen whatever damage that man-beast had done. Standing in the road, under a gap in the tree canopy, the moonlight showed him what he had previously overlooked.
If the blue storm clouds I was looking into were any indication, I was sure he wished he could bring that guy back just so he could kill him again. After slowly peeling off every one of his toenails.
Or maybe that was what I wanted.
“Did this happen from the accident?” His voice was tight.
I shook my head.
“In the woods?”
I nodded, and his jaw twitched.
“Did you hear me yell for you?” I saw the barely discernible nod of his head; saw that he wasn’t going to like what I had to say next. “He smacked me around to shut me up.”
Nathan’s eyes narrowed, hardened. Wordlessly, he lifted the hem of his sweatshirt, moistened a section with his tongue, and dabbed at the corners of my mouth and chin.
“I don’t see where this came from,” he murmured to himself as he worked. He lifted his eyes to mine. “Is this your blood?”
I shook my head. “He tried to suffocate me.” Nathan’s hand stopped as he waited for me to continue. “So I bit him.”
He nodded and I thought maybe, just maybe, he nearly smiled.
“I drew blood.” I paused to consider something I hadn’t thought about until then. My voice rose in a panic. “Wait a minute. I got his blood in my mouth.”
Nathan eyed me curiously, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to know where I was going with that. Did I want to go there? Too late now. I had to go there.
My voice trembled. “Am I going to become whatever he was?”
Nathan dropped his hand, and his sweatshirt fell back into place. He looked at me and, this time, I knew he was trying to keep a straight face. “Whatever he was?” he repeated slowly.
“He wasn’t normal. He wasn’t...” I shrugged. Did I really want to finish that thought?
“What?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like a vampire or zombie kind of thing, is it? Because I don’t believe in that stuff.”
“Then why did you ask if you would turn into whatever he was?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Just answer the question.”
“No, you won’t turn into whatever he was. Not because you got his blood in your mouth. Not ever.”
I stared at Nathan warily. “So what was he anyway?”
Nathan looked over my head and took a deep breath. “We have to keep moving, and get off the road.”
My voice rose again, this time in anger. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?”
He glanced at his watch like he planned to set up an appointment to talk to me. “We have a few hours of walking ahead of us. They’re coming, now, as we’re standing here, wasting time. Once we put some distance between us and them, I’ll explain what I can.”
A few hours of walking? I made a face, which he ignored.
“Come on.” He nodded his head at the woods that loomed ahead of us.
“We’re walking through the woods? What’s wrong with the road?”
He looked at me like he really hoped I wasn’t that stupid. I wasn’t. I was in shock, and not thinking straight. Obviously, they would look for us on the road.
I cleared my throat and rallied up some attitude. “We’re going in there with nothing but a map and your star reading skills to guide us?” He walked off without an answer, and I called after him, “You never did say how it is that you know how to do that.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “All masochistic assholes can.”
I faltered briefly, and a reluctant smile spread across my face, but he wasn’t around to see it. He was way ahead of me, already trudging into the woods. I scurried after him, secretly impressed.
So, it seemed he had a soft side and a sense of humor. Throw in his killer good looks, and I was afraid I had a dangerous combinatio
n on my hands.
CHAPTER 8
The only thing worse than walking blindly through the woods at night was walking blindly through the woods at night, while trying to keep up with Nathan. The man was a machine. And me? Well, not so much. I hated the woods under normal circumstances. My throbbing ankle, the mind-numbing cold, and the fact that we were being hunted by guys trying to kill us only made it worse. I would be a wreck if not for Nathan. I would also be very lost.
From what I knew about him, the man had no limits. He appeared out of thin air and saved my life like it was the sole purpose of his existence, took out a whole bunch of bad guys single-handedly, drove like a stunt driver, and told direction by the stars. He made the impossible look easy. After all I have seen, and all that I knew, I didn’t understand why we were walking through the woods. It seemed like such a regression from what I knew he was capable of.
“Yo, Nathan, is it just me or does it seem like we’re walking up a lot?”
Shouldn’t we have been walking down the mountain, toward the road, toward civilization?
“That’s because we are walking up.”
Of course. “And why is that?”
“We’re going out of the way for a little bit. Until things settle down.”
“We’re hiding out in the mountains?”
“Yes.” He sounded much more confident about the idea than I was, but who was I to question him? We walked west, or that was what he said when I asked. He wasn’t in a particularly talkative mood, so I didn’t press for details. West and up. That was the most information I had gotten all night.
We walked for hours, with me struggling to keep up with him. Finally, he stopped, dropped the sac on the ground, and waited for me to catch up.
“You’re limping,” he observed.
“I twisted my ankle.” I shrugged like it was no big deal, even though it was killing me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t realize it would have mattered,” I returned heatedly.
Nathan shot me a stormy look that rivaled the one I gave him. He sat on the ground against a tree and motioned for me to do the same. I sat across from him and he pulled my foot into his lap, exposing it to the chilly night air. By contrast, his fingers felt like fire on my skin as he poked and prodded my ankle. I jumped when he touched a sore spot.
He glanced up at me. “That hurt?”
I rolled my eyes. “A little.”
He pushed another spot. “How about here?”
“Not as bad.”
He tested the stability, or so he said. In my opinion, he only made it feel worse. When he finished, he declared it a sprain, and didn’t seem to think anything was broken.
“We’ll rest here for a few minutes,” he said, leaning his head against the tree.
I scooted to the tree next to his and did the same. I closed my eyes and, for a moment, thought I could have fallen asleep, sitting up. It must have been really late.
“Hey, can you tell the time from the stars, too?” I opened one eye and turned to him when he didn’t answer. “You don’t like to talk much, do you?”
“No.”
“No, you don’t like to talk much or no, you can’t tell the time from the stars?”
“No, I don’t talk much,” he said drily. “Yes, I could tell the time from the stars. Or I could use my watch.”
I had forgotten about the watch. I considered asking him the time; decided I didn’t want to know. “So is there a plan other than hiding out in the mountains, because that doesn’t sound like much of a plan to me?”
He rolled his head toward mine, and met my eyes with a nonverbal plea to shut up. I pretended not to notice.
“Is it a good time to ask you what’s going on?” I held my breath and waited for an immediate rebuttal. When it didn’t come, I turned to him.
He looked uncertain. Not like he didn’t want to tell me, but like he didn’t know how to tell me.
“Let’s start with this…” I turned to face him, my legs crossed in front of me. “Who are you?”
He didn’t look at me. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Maybe what are you would be better?” I nibbled on my lip. It was bold of me to go there, but I wasn’t stupid. Something unnatural was going on here. People were vaporizing.
Even in the dark, I saw his mouth curve into a small grin. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “What are you trying to say? I’m not human?”
I refused to show my nerves. “I don’t believe in comic book characters, but there’s something a little comic book weird-like going on here.”
“Comic book weird?” I heard the amusement in his voice. He looked away, puckered his lips, and nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you can handle it.” He opened his mouth hesitantly, and closed it without saying anything.
“I can ask,” I suggested. “You can confirm or deny.”
His quiet answer barely reached my ears in the dark. “Okay.”
“Are you not human?” I held my breath.
He rolled his head, seemingly amused by that question, yet struggling to answer it. Finally, he shrugged decisively and said, “Ninety-five percent human.” He hesitated a moment before turning his eyes to mine.
I composed myself well, I thought, and when he looked at me, my reaction was that of indifference. So I was in the company of someone not entirely human? Surprisingly, that fact didn’t freak me out. Well, not that much. But what was the other five percent of him? I couldn’t bring myself to ask. Not yet. “And those other guys?”
“Not all human either.”
“But they’re not really like you?”
He shook his head and spoke slowly. “We’re natural enemies. We’re similar, but not on the same side.”
“And your side is?” Though I thought I knew the answer, I nibbled on my lip nervously as I awaited his answer.
He rolled his head to me again. “I’m one of the good guys.”
I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath until I sighed in relief.
He raised his eyebrows. “Surprised by that?”
“Not really,” I mumbled with a bashful shrug. “It’s just, I mean, what about Alec?”
His eyes hardened before he looked away. “We’re not on the same side.”
“So he’s one of those bad guys?” I couldn’t help the doubt that crept into my voice. I knew Alec. He wasn’t bad. Not in this sense. And he wasn’t creepy like those other guys. He looked like Nathan and I—like normal. He had told me to stay away from the guys that had been in Gran’s house. Why would he do that if he was one of them?
But then how did he know them in the first place?
Nathan’s jaw tightened. “Yes, he is. He was using you. I don’t know why. I don’t know what their interest in you is, but I think he was the one they planted to get close to you.”
“Maybe they were using him too?”
Nathan snorted. “No, he is one of them.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know.” His tone made it clear that the matter was now closed.
“What else are you, other than human?” I asked quietly.
He thought about it, and then shook his head. “Not yet.”
I refused to get discouraged. He had answered everything else. I looked up at him from under my lashes. “Why do you look the same?”
He stared at me like he was trying to figure out if I was talking about what he thought I was talking about. “The same as what?” he hedged, watching me closely.
“The same now as you did the first time I saw you, when I was three. It’s like you haven’t aged at all.”
He sighed as he thought about his answer. “It’s a perk from being the other five percent of what I am.”
“Are you immortal?” I guessed.
“Not quite.” He watched my reaction warily. “We just age slower.”
I nodded, recalling how the others had vaporized. They had definitely not been immortal. “What happen
ed to those other guys? Why did they disappear like that?”
Nathan hesitated, and I feared he would put a stop to the questions. He didn’t, but answered slowly, choosing his words carefully. “That happens when we’re killed with a particular type of weapon. Those certain weapons make it easier to kill us. Otherwise, we’re harder to kill than average humans. Not immortal, but more resilient.”
“And stronger?”
“Faster and stronger.” After all he had admitted to, none of it hinted at what he was. He was careful. I wondered what it was he was so concerned about. My reaction?
“You can tell me what you are,” I said softly.
His eyes met mine and, for a second, I thought he might tell me. Then he shook his head. “Not yet, Kris.”
For it being the first I had ever heard him say my name, it felt oddly warm and familiar, like slipping into that over-worn security t-shirt straight out of the dryer. Not to mention, almost everyone had to be told not to call me by my given name. “How did you know my name?”
He shrugged like the answer was so obvious he didn’t know what to say.
“You knew to call me Kris, not Kristina,” I prodded.
A small grin tugged at his lips when the answer came to him. “You strongly suggested it to me once. You had quite a mouth for a three year old.”
Oh, man, I wished I remembered that conversation.
His mention of it took me back to the night he had first entered my life. I had seen bad things that night, most of which my subconscious continued to protect me from remembering. Had I seen things then, similar to what I have seen tonight? Have I been living in this world with people that were ninety-five percent human all along?
For years, I have wanted to ask him what his involvement had been that night, and what his involvement has been in my life ever since. As far as I knew, he only popped into my life when I needed help. What if it were more than that? What if he had been there the whole time, watching and waiting? What if he had been protecting me all along?
And then, there was the biggest question of all...why?
“Who are you to me?” I asked. “How is it that you’ve been there to help me all those times?”
