Freeforce: The Gryphon Saga

by L. E. Horn

  “The big one what?” Cassidy choked on her drink and erupted into a laugh.

  “Earthquake, silly. Even I know that one,” Trent replied, handing her a piece of paper towel.

  Cassidy poked him again which led to a wrestling and tickling match. Lianndra hoped it wouldn’t escalate into anything embarrassing.

  She settled for ignoring the flying sand and wriggling bodies, pretending to examine the beautiful scenery around them. In reality, easy to do. It’s gorgeous out here.

  Lianndra stuffed the last of her sandwich into her mouth and swallowed. “I wouldn’t mind going for a trek except I will need to get changed. I can’t hike in this getup.” She dusted crumbs and sand from her cleavage.

  Trent disentangled himself from Cassidy and stood. He looked ruefully at his sand encrusted form. “I’ll swim out to get the dinghy for you,” he said. “You guys can take it back to the boat to get changed. If you touristy types want to stomp about, go ahead. I wouldn’t mind lying on the beach.”

  He looks as though he often worships the sun between bouts of lifting weights, Lianndra thought. Trent is the perfect match for Cassidy. They both look like beach volleyball champs, and future skin cancer patients. She watched Trent wade into the water, doing the duck walk in his flippers.

  Cassidy sighed, shaking sand out of her hair. “He has such a nice butt.” She flashed a smile as Michael groaned. “Well, he does.”

  “How long have you been together?” Lianndra asked.

  “Almost two years now. Our parents are getting antsy.” Cassidy shrugged. “I met Trent in high school. His dad runs a huge cattle ranch. They’re filthy rich. When I heard the guys were heading to California, I tagged along.”

  Although Lianndra knew Trent was Michael’s friend, he and Cassidy blended in with the locals. Not their first winter holiday here? “I didn’t think there were any rich cattle farmers left.”

  “Trent’s dad doesn’t just farm cattle, they have oil on their land.” Cassidy repositioned herself in the sunlight and bunched up Lianndra’s unused towel for a pillow.

  Michael rolled backward onto his elbows, squinting to where Trent’s snorkel bobbed above the water. “Trent and I have been friends for years. My parents’ sheep farm is near his family’s spread.” He grinned. “No oil, though. I live vicariously off my friend’s wealth.” He reached behind Lianndra to retrieve an escaped sandwich wrapper. “For that matter, so do you,” he said to Cassidy.

  Cassidy didn’t open her eyes, merely shrugged. “Somebody has to spend it.”

  “We’ve been spending it for weeks now.” Michael ran his hand through his dark hair, shaking out grains of sand. Cassidy sniffed in response but still didn’t open her eyes. Michael grinned before continuing. “Gotta go home eventually, I guess. I’m spending the summer helping my folks at the farm, and I hope to go to university in the fall. We took a year off after high school.” He laughed. “I’m supposed to figure out what I want to do with my life, but all I’ve figured out is that I hate beach volleyball.”

  Aha! Nineteen. I thought so. Lianndra laughed and turned her gaze back to the ocean. Then she frowned. “Looks like we’re not alone in paradise.” She nodded toward the waves.

  From around one side of the cove came a rather dilapidated old fishing vessel. As soon as it appeared, it seemed to stop moving forward and rocked in the small waves. It was towing a smaller boat behind it.

  “Are they fishing?” Lianndra asked.

  Beside her, Michael straightened and then frowned. “They’re not supposed to because these are protected waters.” He squinted into the sun. “Besides, I don’t see any gear out.”

  Movement closer to the beach revealed Trent pulling himself out of the water into the dinghy. They saw him stare at the fishing boat for a moment before rowing the dinghy to shore.

  We’re awfully isolated out here. Lianndra thought. She sensed Michael’s tension and guessed he felt just as uneasy. The fishing boat just sat there, rocking in the waves.

  Trent obviously shared their concerns. He didn’t leave the dinghy. Instead, he rowed it straight to the beach before calling to them. “I think we should go back to the boat.”

  Cassidy sat up, shading her eyes. “It’s just a fishing boat. What’s the big deal?”

  “Cassidy.” Trent’s tone brooked no argument. Cassidy sighed theatrically before rolling upright and grabbing her towels. Michael stood, helping Lianndra to her feet.

  They’d rowed the dinghy halfway to their boat when the other vessel moved. They could hear the engine throttle up, the bow wave splashing white against the hull. It headed straight for them.

  Trent hesitated in his rowing for only a second and then stroked faster.

  “We’re not going to make it,” Michael yelled over the roar of the approaching vessel. “Get us back to shore!”

  Thoroughly alarmed now, Lianndra glanced at Cassidy. The younger woman’s eyes widened as the color left her tanned complexion.

  Whatever those guys are up to, it isn’t good, Lianndra thought.

  With only one set of oars in their little dinghy, all they could do was watch the boat grow ever larger. Trent strained to get them turned around and back to shore.

  It became obvious the boat would intercept them before they made the beach.

  Michael grabbed Lianndra by the arm, pulling her closer to him. “We’ll have to swim for it. With any luck, they’ll just take the boat.” He shouted over the sound of the approaching vessel.

  “But why would they want us?” Cassidy squeaked.

  “Pirates!” Trent abandoned the oars to slide closer to Cassidy.

  Thoughts of one of Lianndra’s favorite movie stars in piratorial hair extensions flashed through her mind. Pirates? She couldn’t shake the image. What do pirates want with us? I can see them wanting the boat, but us? Ransom. That’s it. Trent is filthy rich.

  Michael lifted her over the side. The cold water shocked her back to reality. Beside her, Cassidy spluttered as an incoming wave swamped her. Michael dove over the dinghy’s other side, surfacing a few feet away.

  “Split up and swim!” he yelled.

  Lianndra kicked her feet to swim for shore. Behind her, she heard Cassidy call to Trent, followed by the splash of him diving overboard. The engines’ approaching roar drowned out all else. Adrenaline took over.

  The tight wet suit immediately caused problems. Although not an issue when swimming slowly with fins, swimming fast without proved difficult. The tight suit hampered the depth and strength of her kicks, making her arms ache after only a few strokes.

  Then she heard a change in the boat’s engines as it throttled down, followed by Cassidy’s shrill scream. The sound of a smaller motor penetrated the din, and out of the corner of her eye, Lianndra saw movement. A second, smaller craft, arrowing between her and the beach.

  She paused—treading water—tired and confused. When she looked over her shoulder, the fishing vessel loomed behind her. A knot of human figures struggled on the deck. She couldn’t see any sign of Michael, Cassidy, or Trent in the water. A shout made her look up—a figure on the bow pointed toward her.

  Left with few options, she took a deep breath and dove.

  Something crashed into the surrounding water. She kicked and tried diving past it, but it moved toward her, enveloping her in its slimy embrace. Thrashing in panic only entangled her further.

  Lianndra gasped as she broke the surface, enmeshed in an old fishing net. Although the worn spots would have been good news for a small tuna, none of the holes provided her with a means of escape. As the net winched up, it swung inward, depositing her in a puddle of slime on an old rusty steel deck.

  Lianndra barely registered the complete strangers around her when someone grabbed her by the hair. She screeched in pain as something jabbed her in the side of her neck.

  Everything went dark.

  Chapter Three

  MY HOLIDAY ISN’T WORKING OUT exactly as planned, Lianndra thought.

  She
sat on a rusty corrugated metal bench that poked through the wet suit into her butt. Lianndra tugged at her hands cuffed behind her back. Something fastened her ankles to the floor, and her head ached. I think I’m going to puke.

  Also bound, Cassidy lay unconscious to one side, twisted awkwardly on the ugly metal. Seated across from them, the guys groaned their way awake.

  The rust on the walls matched the benches. Wood sawdust covered the floor. It looked disgusting and smelled worse.

  Trent woke first. His face appeared ashen. “Ugh.” He grimaced. “I feel sick.”

  Michael answered without opening his eyes. “Well, for God’s sake, don’t barf. I’ll spew for sure if you do.” He moved as though his head hurt him.

  Lianndra saw a livid bruise along one side of his face. She remembered the struggling figures she’d glimpsed on the deck.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded. The seat beneath her lurched and dropped with a bang. Lianndra recognized the dynamics of a pothole and realized they were no longer on the ocean—they were inside a truck.

  “I’m fine.” Michael opened his silvery eyes, forcing a smile. “Kidnapped at sea, slugged in the head, drugged, trussed like a turkey before being carted off to God knows where, but otherwise, I’m good.” He rolled his head on his neck and flexed his shoulders, testing the restraints, and swung his long legs, tugging at the manacles on his ankles. Chains hidden in the sawdust clinked as he moved. Frowning, he assessed his friend’s progress as Trent tried the same maneuvers with as little success. Michael looked back at Lianndra. “How are you?”

  “About the same, except add a disgusting fishing net and subtract the slugging.” She strove for a light tone, but her shaking voice betrayed her.

  Trent gingerly rested his head against the truck’s side. “What is this? Are we being held for ransom?” He looked across at Lianndra. “I don’t suppose you’re independently wealthy?”

  Lianndra grimaced, wincing as her headache flared. “Sorry. Independently poor. My parents have a dairy farm in Saskatchewan. No oil.”

  Trent sighed. “Then it’s about me. But why take all of us?”

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t add up. Only the rental attendant knew we were at the cove today. Unless he told these guys. Why wouldn’t they just take the boat—it’s worth a fair bit.” Confusion showed in his eyes. “If they were after Trent, I wouldn’t think grabbing us all constitutes your typical kidnapping. It seemed like they stumbled on us and took advantage of an opportunity.”

  “Yeah, but what opportunity?” Trent looked over to Cassidy, who had sat up to listen. “Cass, are you okay?”

  “No,” she replied before vomiting.

  The sight and smell set them all off. In the end, although everyone felt better, the truck proved much worse for wear. The sawdust soaked up the liquid, making Lianndra wonder if that was its intended purpose. If the state of it was anything to go by, they weren’t the first occupants of this truck. She hated to have her bare feet in the mess although she tried not to think about it. I must sterilize those cuts after this. If there is an after this!

  Lianndra raised her eyes to Michael’s. He’d been staring at the shavings, and there was a flash of shared thought between them: whoever these people are, they have done this before. Recently.

  “What the heck do they want us for?” Trent grumbled while tugging at his ankle restraints. The resulting dull clunk drew Lianndra’s attention down to his feet. The restraints were metal, with a chain running from them to a bar extending the seat’s full length. Her eyes traced the bar along the floor, observing a set of manacles welded every three feet.

  She glanced at her ankle restraints, noticing they were the same. This truck is designed to carry human captives. Slavers! Lianndra had heard slavers operated in North America, but the reality shocked her. Lianndra met Michael’s eyes again, exchanging a lot of information in a single look. She could tell his thoughts followed the path of her own—she also saw him decide not to reveal their mutual realization.

  Michael merely shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Lianndra focused on the chances of rescue. “Did you guys tell anyone other than the rental guy we were going to the cove today?”

  Trent and Michael exchanged a glance before Trent shook his head. “I finalized the outing yesterday. You file a simple trip log with the rental company each time you go out, but no one knew exactly where we were going. The rental guy might notice when we don’t come back today. He would assume we overnighted somewhere along the coast. No one keeps close track of these things.”

  “The boat has a GPS tracker on board.” Michael tried to sound hopeful. “They’ll look for it once they realize we’re missing.”

  If these guys targeted us, and it seems they did, they would’ve been wise to blow the boat to pieces once they took us. Lianndra didn’t say it out loud. There wasn’t any point. Cassidy likely remained the only one unaware of their predicament. She doesn’t need any more stress. Lianndra glanced at the woman beside her. Cassidy sat with her head down, her blonde hair hanging over her face.

  Each truck occupant became lost in their own thoughts. Lianndra’s arms in the tight wet suit ached from being pulled behind her back, and she’d lost sensation in her hands. Amazingly, the suit still contained her front half, considering all the manhandling. Great, more skin. I’m barely decent.

  They had more important concerns than her state of undress. Lianndra’s head throbbed. I would love to lie down. Upon closer examination, she decided not to expose herself to whatever disgusting debris clung to the bench.

  The first urgings of needing to pee opened another world of embarrassing possibilities. No way I’ll be able to wiggle out of this uncooperative wet suit with my hands bound behind me.

  Lianndra contemplated the dynamics of peeing inside her suit when the truck slowed. The ride became rougher as though they’d turned onto a poorly maintained road. The potholes threatened to solve Lianndra’s problem for her. She exchanged a frightened look with Cassidy, recognizing a certain comfort in not knowing their fate. The primitive instincts of a trapped animal created a wild surge of panic within her. She wondered if cattle felt like this when their transports pulled into the slaughterhouse yard.

  Why am I comparing us to livestock? she thought. At least I’m sure they didn’t go to this trouble just to eat us!

  “Lianndra, I’m so sorry I got you into this.” Michael’s voice cracked.

  She forced a smile. “Michael, don’t be ridiculous. None of this is your fault.” I’m perfectly capable of getting into trouble all by myself.

  “Besides, you got us all into trouble, not just her.” Trent’s attempt at levity fell short, but Lianndra appreciated it.

  The truck turned before slowing to a halt. The tension among the captives intensified as their eyes focused on the door to their prison. All too soon they heard rusty latches being freed.

  The door opened to reveal four male figures armed with handguns. Only their weapons and cold, uncaring expressions distinguished them from the average person on the street. Two of them entered the truck. One held the barrel of his gun against Michael’s temple while the other bent to release Cassidy’s manacles.

  Trent moved to protest, and the man nearest the door pushed his gun close to the young man’s angry face. “Don’t even think of it.”

  “Trent, please,” Cassidy said, her voice a hoarse imitation of her usual robust self. “Don’t do anything dumb.” Her face shone with tears but her eyes locked with his. “I love you.”

  She’s figured it out. Lianndra’s panic rose in waves throughout her body, making her tremble. She’d have bolted if she could.

  “Cassidy . . .” Trent’s voice broke and his entire body shook.

  “Shut up!” The man with the gun in Trent’s face shoved the barrel hard into his cheek.

  Trent swallowed and subsided, his face pale and his eyes dark with sick horror. The gu
nman’s associate finished releasing Cassidy’s legs and marched her past them before handing her down to the fourth man. He returned to unfasten Lianndra.

  Lianndra could barely stand. So much for adrenaline enabling you to do amazing feats in the face of danger. I feel more like a rabbit about to die of a heart attack. She struggled to walk as the thug grabbed her with one arm to push her out the door.

  “Where are you taking them?” Michael leaned forward against the gun barrel as if daring the man to shoot him.

  Instead the man punched him, compounding the bruised cheekbone. Michael’s body rocked with the blow but his silver eyes glared back. The tension in him didn’t subside even when their captor pressed the gun barrel into the darkening bruise, making him wince.

  “Worry about yourself, kid,” the man said.

  He handed Lianndra into the fourth man’s less than gentle custody. The man doing the unfastening turned, pulled a peculiar weapon from a holster at his belt, and with a casual air shot Michael. A second shot came from another of the thugs, hitting Trent.

  “No!” Lianndra screamed, but the man laughed. Then she saw the darts sticking out of the wet suits—Michael’s in his arm, Trent’s in his thigh. Trent started to rise from his seat before he lost strength and collapsed across the bench. Michael struggled for consciousness, but his eyes glazed over.

  “Dammit. Now we gotta carry ’em,” said the man holding the gun on Michael.

  “Yeah, well, better that than take any more crap from Adams about beating up the merchandise.”

  Lianndra turned from the scene inside the van, her stomach lurching as the words confirmed her suspicions. Cassidy’s wide, frightened gaze caught hers for a fraction of a second before their captor poked her forward with his gun.

  “Move!” he said.

  They were inside a vast, ancient warehouse. Solid walls partitioned the truck bay off from the rest of the building. The men forced the two women to march up a set of stairs that appeared as though they shared an ancestry with the bench in the truck. The ragged metal cut into Lianndra’s bare feet.