Find: Project Xol

by Amabel Daniels

  He’d stopped his summary too suddenly.

  “Yeah…” Cassidy said, perhaps prompting him on or hedging to finish the tale.

  “Then it cut out. Someone must have realized I was trespassing and cut my access.”

  “How?” she asked.

  I clenched my stomach to brace for more pain as Cassidy turned onto the highway.

  “I assume someone else was actively checking the surveillance system, realized I was intruding, and stopped me from accessing it.”

  “Someone from the surveillance company?” Cassidy checked.

  “Maybe.” Zero sighed. “Or someone else like me who wanted to control what was saved in their data.”

  Another manipulation from a third source? Probably Daysun or whoever the hell Michael worked for.

  “So how the hell are you two alive and on the run?”

  Cassidy spoke quickly, as though she realized the need for brevity. Her words were punctuated with long breaths, and each time she dragged in air, I studied her, making sure she wasn’t about to pass out at the wheel.

  Zero asked minimal questions as she told him. How she’d taken the guard’s gun and shot Michael. I interrupted long enough to explain I stabbed Ryan. She resumed sharing how he’d gotten downstairs, that we’d only gotten in unexpectedly because she was Scott’s daughter, and how Michael had still come after us.

  His follow-up questions were distinct and clear.

  “Who was that other guy? The one who’d come with Michael?”

  Cassidy answered first. “He was the guy who ran us off the road. We saw him at the hotel speaking with Michael.”

  Then I told Zero, “Ryan Poole. He is—was—locked up with me at the pen in Terre Haute. Not sure how the hell he got released, though. I thought he was doing life.” I provided the details of that asshole’s record.

  Next, “So you got the data?”

  Cassidy nodded, then, likely realizing in her increasingly sleepy manner that Zero couldn’t see her, she replied, “Yeah. I didn’t look inside though.”

  “But you have the right stuff?”

  I sure as hell hoped so. But we hadn’t had the time to even see what the data was. She’d had a long box of some kind. Since the backpack was still in my lap, I pulled it out. I stuck my finger under the flap and raised it.

  “It’s a bunch of…”

  Shit. I’d seen them before. A long, long time ago. I knew what these were. Something from when I was a kid. “Um…”

  Cassidy squinted and looked over. “Oh. They’re um… Dammit. What are they called?”

  “One of you better tell me!”

  I smirked at Zero’s sass. “Uh… Drives of some kind.”

  “Drives? An external hard drive?”

  I shook my head, picking up the first slim square. Plastic, maybe three-by-three inches. Oh, come on. I knew what these were. I couldn’t concentrate for shit. “Um…”

  “Discs,” Cassidy said.

  “CDs?” Zero insisted. “Thumb drives? Come on.”

  “Zip,” I finally said, a fleeting memory cruising to mind. I struggled to open my eyes after a long blink. Shaking my head to wake up, I set the zip drive back to where I’d found it and sloppily shut the flap. It took far too much energy and focus to do so, but I shoved the entire case of them into the backpack.

  “Huh.” Zero went on, “Well, if the research was from the nineties, that’s what they would’ve had handy.”

  I wasn’t fully aware of slanting to the side, but as I slouched over, Cassidy’s hair stuck to my cheek.

  “Shit.” She nudged at me.

  I jerked back, fighting off this fatigue that captured me.

  “Zero. We need help. He’s—” The car jolted to a slower gear. “Luke! Zero, he’s passing out. We need to—”

  “You’re going to find a vet clinic.” Zero’s commanding tone almost sharpened me to stay fully awake. “Not a hospital or urgent care. After the library, it’s too risky. Go to a vet and make them help you.”

  “Sure, because I’m so persuasive.”

  “Bribe them.”

  “With what?” she shot back.

  “Money. I have enough. Just don’t fucking die on me. Either of you. All right?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Stay. Under. The. Radar. No matter what. That’s why a vet is better than nothing. After you get help, ditch this phone. Get several new ones. Contact this number. Get ready to write it down.”

  The car slowed even more. “Hold on.” Then, “Okay.”

  Zero rattled off a number and I couldn’t remember more than a couple of the digits.

  “Got it?”

  Cassidy must have reached for the phone in the cupholder because Zero’s voice sounded smaller. Further away.

  Or maybe that was me, because with one more deep breath, everything faded to nothing.

  Chapter Three

  Cassidy

  I checked the rearview mirror as I wrenched my door open.

  As soon as I’d hung up with Zero, I parked on the shoulder of a side road. I had no clue where we were and I hoped no one else would either. At the very least, only a few cars had passed by and there were no law enforcement vehicles zooming in our wake. After Zero’s repeated emphasis on staying on the down-low, my paranoia amped up even more.

  Add in puke-threatening fear to that paranoia because as I yanked the passenger door open, I drowned in the terror of Luke staying unconscious for good. I shifted his legs toward me and ripped at the cut fabric of his jeans. Blood saturated the entire length of his thigh. I pulled at the material but the wetness of the denim wasn’t helping.

  Need to cut it… The multi-tool keychain. I’d tossed it onto the conveyor belt when we’d stopped at the store yesterday. My thoughts were so trivial then, wanting a tiny blade to cut off the plastic tags of our new clothes so we wouldn’t have to pull them out. One of my stupid pet peeves.

  I found the itty-bitty combo-tool and slid the inch-long blade out. Once I cut fabric back from the gunshot wound site, I gasped at the severity of his injury. So much blood. His skin was coated in the hot stickiness, back up toward his hips and soaking into the seat. I grabbed the gauze package he’d bought for wrapping his shoulder and roped it around the injury. Then I took the shirts he’d bought and balled them into compresses. I pressed them to the top of his thigh and strapped it tight with more gauze. It would have been better to block and sop up the blood on the other side of his leg but there was no way I could lift him enough to secure that fit.

  Done with the most obvious injury, I groped him, feeling down his other leg and up his chest. Blood wasn’t a reliable indication of harm. We were both wearing too much and not our own. The crimson stains on his side weren’t from another cut on his flesh, but from my arm when he’d hung on to me. Still, raising bruises and long welts showed on his sculpted torso. I smoothed my hands up him, clinically and urgently checking for any more spots of blood loss. Other than a few small cuts and nicks, places where the blood had already ceased spreading, there was nothing. He was injured more than the gunshot to the leg, but I didn’t have any X-ray abilities. I’d done the best I could.

  Dropping my head to his chest as he breathed steadily, I took a moment to listen to his heartbeat. Before the sob building in my throat could cut loose, I reared back, spiraling into a dizzy lurch.

  I’d done the best I could for the moment for him, but if I wanted to truly aid him, I had to get us to professional help—a vet, according to Zero. Seemed absurd, but I wasn’t stupid enough to waltz into a real medical facility. In order to get us anywhere, I had to prevent myself from passing out first. Standing in the space allowed by the passenger door hanging open, I repeated the first-aid attempt on myself. Already in a tank top, I didn’t have to search and clear for my wound at my arm. Bundled in gauze and strips of a t-shirt, I was at least compressing the bleeding. I stuck a few butterfly bandages on a gash on my stomach—barely even remembering how the hell that one had happened. Didn’t matter. Time to move.
/>
  Before I scuttled back inside to drive on, I took both mine and Luke’s phones. I wasn’t athletic enough to throw them into the scruffy-looking brush off the highway. Instead, I put them in the shade of one of the tires. Then I reversed and drove back over the items several times. I parked again, checking a glance at Luke to ensure his chest was still rising and falling. Leaning over through the driver’s door cracked open, I satisfied myself with the carnage of the phones. It probably didn’t destroy them one thousand percent accurately but it was the best I could pull off for now. One way or another, if there were possible links to tracking us, they weren’t coming with us any longer.

  A vet. I needed to find a veterinarian’s office somewhere fast. Between glancing at Luke and surveying our surroundings, I fought back the problems I couldn’t ignore for good. The pounding headache that made it difficult to focus. How thirsty I was. Those aching grumbles in my stomach. The dulling, heavy throbbing in my arm.

  I understood Zero’s reasoning for seeking out a vet rather than a doctor. But it was still a tall order. I needed to avoid any cameras and any request for identification. To create a trail now would be suicide. Since the Project Xol data was in my possession, I couldn’t dissuade the hunch that I was holding a ticking bomb.

  After another hour of rejecting vet places that were either too fancy or surrounded by multiple businesses, I cruised into what looked like a small town. A quaint farming village. One main street. No chain-store behemoths or franchise joints. At the end of the semi-rural route, next to an untitled gas station, stood a nondescript red-brick building. Gorgon Veterinarian Hospital.

  Maybe this could work.

  It had to.

  I parked the SUV next to the building and scanned the sleepy town. No one walked on the streets. No cars sped by. I had to remember again that it was Saturday. Perhaps most of the businesses were closed for the weekend. I could only hope this one wasn’t.

  I bit my lip, watching Luke once again to reassure myself he was still breathing. The wadded-up ball of cloth at his thigh showed some blood on the edges touching his flesh, but it wasn’t spreading throughout. Maybe I’d done good.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I was torn, leaving him in the car, but there was no way I could ever heft him out of there and carry him inside with me. He was twice my size and weight. An impossible feat—even if I wasn’t injured and exhausted.

  Slanting over him, I kissed his stubbled cheek and grabbed the backpack.

  I didn’t take a second to stretch from the tension of the earlier danger or the cramped feeling from driving for over an hour. As soon as I exited and locked the SUV, I strode to the side door of the building, set away from the storefront windows that faced the single roadway. The hand-written sign there explained the entrance was at the side.

  I rang the bell, and when a moment passed, I knocked. Another moment of too much quiet calm ticked by and I knocked harder. Standing there, I couldn’t resist feeling exposed. A glance up and around showed no obvious cameras. Still, I couldn’t shake the gut feeling of being watched. Maybe that was just a side effect of having to be a woman on the run.

  No one was coming. It just had to be the weekend.

  “Hello?” I called out. Maybe someone was in there even if they weren’t currently open for business. Then I took the moment to read the sign. Hours of operation…nope. It didn’t include one-sixteen in the afternoon on a Saturday.

  “Hello?” I yelled it louder. I needed a goddamn break. Something had to go my way. I’d driven us miles and hours from Harlowe University. I’d travel some more, too, if that was what it took to find another inconspicuous vet place like this one. But Luke didn’t have time. Every minute that inched by with him slumped lifelessly in the passenger seat didn’t bode well.

  “Come on!” I said, more to myself than the strangers who simply weren’t open. I surrendered to the frustration cloying at my patience and smacked my palm to the door panel. The curtain on the other side of the glass window swished and it wasn’t from the force of my hand out here. I stepped back. The lock clicked. That curtain swished again. And then the door opened.

  “We’re closed. Sorry.”

  I swallowed hard at the man holding the door open. My throat was so ragged and dry that even the minimal yelling I’d done aggravated me.

  “Please.” I stepped closer and he closed the gap of the open door.

  “Please.” I tried again. I wasn’t above begging. Not if it was a matter of Luke’s life or death.

  “We’re closed.”

  “I need your help.”

  He opened the door a little more but inserted himself in the space. Dressed in jeans and a Cowboys t-shirt, he crossed his arms. Short, mussed black hair stood up haphazardly on his head, a dark contrast that went well with his chiseled, tanned features. Green eyes glared at me, a suspicious guardedness that warned me to tread carefully here. He might be giving me another chance to beg but he didn’t seem like a pushover. I swallowed hard again, bracing for him to shut me out again, and I couldn’t help but be distracted by the full sleeves of tats covering both muscled forearms.

  “I said we’re closed. If you have an emergency—”

  “I do.” I glanced in the direction of the truck. The top of Luke’s head was just visible through the windows. “Please.” Tears burned at my eyes. I just couldn’t take any more stress for the day. The month. Ever again. “Please.”

  He dropped his arms from his folded stance and gave me a once-over. I didn’t miss that he lingered on the crudely wrapped mess of my bicep. “Is it your horse? Call Doc Remsey over in Frank County. Or if it’s your do—”

  “Luke. It’s a man.”

  He barked a harsh laugh and eyed the sky. “Yeah, chick. We’re a vet’s office. Not a hospital.”

  I gripped his shirt, suddenly too pissed off to care if I was ruining a chance at medical assistance. “I’m not a chick, farm boy. I need some goddamn help now. I’ll pay you.”

  He eyed my bloodied fingers clutching his football shirt and then raised his calm stare to my eyes. I refused to flinch at his direct attention. I licked my lips, resolved to get Luke help. Right now.

  “I don’t want to get involved in whatever the fuck is going on with you.”

  “Wyatt?”

  A woman called from further inside. “Who is it?”

  I released Wyatt’s shirt, patting down the wrinkled fabric and tried to see around him. He edged over, blocking my sight more. Not that I could see over his taller frame anyway. But if there was a woman in there, I bet I’d have better chances appealing to her sympathy than this hard-ass.

  “Not now, Mom.”

  Mom. I had no background to automatically assume that title meant a nurturing nature. Rosa was my adoptive mom and she’d always been too aloof to truly dote on me. She’d loved me, I was sure of it, but she hadn’t instilled this universal faith that mothers were caring creatures. Movies and books hinted at that phenomenon. “Hello?” I called out again.

  “Wyatt?” she asked again, her voice coming nearing.

  “Mom. No. Go back upstairs to the apartment. Please.”

  She wasn’t a pushover either. Or she wasn’t easily obedient to her son. An older woman stepped to the threshold, nudging Wyatt to the side. In yoga pants and a loose-fitting charity 5K t-shirt, she came closer. A hot-pink beanie sat on her head and no hair flitted at the edge. “Jesus. What happened to you?”

  “I…” Words stuck at the concerned compassion in her stare.

  “Hon?” She ducked her head out, as though to ensure I was looking at her and not through her. “Are you okay?”

  She reached out a hand and Wyatt stopped her movement.

  From her worried frown and his standoffish edginess, hell, I knew I had to look like shit. I didn’t want to browbeat him into helping, nor did I want to manipulate her kindheartedness. Whoever I interacted with could slip into the hell I was running from. Did I want to endanger them? No. I wasn’t cruel enough t
o dismiss their safety. Wyatt had every right to be cautious. I would be too if a bloodied, demanding stranger showed up out of the blue and begged for my help. But I had to see to Luke’s health. And the faster I could get that done, the faster I could leave this innocent family.

  “I need help. My…” My Luke. I couldn’t say that. What was he though? “My friend and I are injured. I need medical assistance.”

  “Good Lordy, hon. You sure do. But we’re just a vet’s office. Go on over to the local clinic over on—”

  I held up my hand and swung the backpack closer. I unzipped the pouch with the remainder of the cash. Boy, was I ever glad I’d listened to my gut and took that rolled-up wad of bills that Rosa had hidden in her bedpost. We’d used some, sure, but there had to be a few thousand in my hand. “I’ll pay you.”

  Now, the mother glanced at Wyatt. “Hon…”

  “Please. I can’t go to the hospital. Or clinic. I can’t let them find us.”

  Her lips set in a firm line and Wyatt swore under his breath.

  “Who’s after you?” she asked.

  I shook my head. No way would I tell. And if I did…like they would believe me.

  They shared another glance and Wyatt must have sensed his parent giving in. “Mom. No.”

  “Now look here, son…”

  He stepped forward, as though wedging between us. “No! Look at her.”

  She jutted her chin out and I knew who really was the boss between them. “I did. And I am. You know what I see?” Her finger pointed at me. “I see a troubled woman who’s been to hell and back. All she’s asking for is help.”

  “And bringing her hell to us too.” He set his hand on his hip. “We don’t need any more trouble.”

  She shook her head, showing faint glints of a shimmery thread woven into the pink of her knitted beanie. “What do you think would have happened to us if no one had shown us help when we needed it, huh? What would we have done if Doc Heyer hadn’t taken a chance on helping us when your daddy was beating me back then? Huh? You remember that kind of fear?”