Chapter Nine
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Cal twisted, grabbing Lauren’s limp body and pulling her around to his front. He tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and picked up his pace to a jog. The water slowed him down, but they were still too close to their entry point. He wanted to work his way upstream a few more miles before getting back on dry land.
Her injured thigh draped over his chest, giving him a good view of the blood-soaked rip in her jeans. He could only see glimpses of the laceration on her leg, but the bleeding had almost stopped. The blood on her skin and jeans was dark and tacky, with just a trickle of bright red escaping the wound. The injury was ugly but not life-threatening, and Cal was relieved they didn’t need to take the time to put on a pressure bandage right away.
There was a good-sized town just a few miles downstream, but Cal thought that’d be too obvious a choice. The searchers would most likely assume that Cal and Lauren would head toward the closest civilization. He swore under his breath at the loss of his cell phone turned police scanner. Without that link, he’d have to guess what law enforcement would do next in their search.
He plowed through the water, careful not to jostle Lauren. It was tempting to speed up but he didn’t want her bouncing around with her head injury—at least more than he could help. The location of the burning car helped their lead, since it would take time for the firefighters to get their equipment down to the bottom of the ravine. Cal was pretty sure a search wouldn’t start until it was confirmed he and Lauren hadn’t been in the vehicle when it exploded, but anxiety still pushed his legs to move faster. With each minute that passed, he felt more exposed.
“Cal?” The groan against his back brought him out of his thoughts.
“Hey. You’re awake.” He moved her so that he was carrying her in front of him, bride-style.
“Unfortunately.” She attempted a laugh and winced, bringing her hand up to her head.
His jaw tightened until his molars ground together. He’d known it could come to this, from the first moments of flirting in the mail room. Now she was injured and they were on foot, and it seemed that every fucking law-enforcement agency—legitimate and not so legitimate—were after them.
“How’s the plan situation?” Lauren’s voice was still scratchy, and his arms tightened around her. When she squeaked a protest, he realized that his hand had pressed on her injury. Mentally swearing at his carelessness, he carefully adjusted his grip.
“We’re headed to a small town about seventeen miles upriver.”
“Myron-small?”
He gave an amused grunt. “This shit hole will make Myron look like a thriving metropolis. It has a gas station and a few houses, and that’s about it.”
“And it’s our destination...why?” She laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
“Hey.” He gave her a little bounce. “Stay awake. No more passing out on me.”
“Sorry.” Her eyes opened, but she kept her head resting against his chest. “Why are we going to this tiny, tiny town?”
“There’s a vet clinic right outside of town,” he said. “They’ll have supplies that I can use to fix you up.”
She wiggled a little against him and protested, “Cal, don’t stop for me. I’m fine.”
He had to snort at that. “Bullshit. Fine enough to lose consciousness?”
“It was just for a minute.” She glanced up at him uncertainly. “A couple of minutes?”
He just looked at her.
“Okay, how long was I out?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He figured he’d gone far enough in the creek to throw off their pursuers, so he angled toward the bank. As he stepped out of the water, Cal gave a silent sigh of relief. His legs and feet burned from the cold. “We’re stopping.”
Her face was squished up in disgust. “I hate being the weak one.”
“You’re not weak.” He picked up a steady jog, happy to be moving faster. Carrying Lauren and traveling through the woods slowed him down, but he still could manage a steady nine-minute mile. At that rate, they’d be at the clinic in less than three hours.
She shook her head and winced again. “I’m the one slowing you down.”
“Lauren, knock it off.” Cal wanted to give her a shake but resisted, not wanting to jostle her brain any more than it already had been by the rollover accident.
Her lips tightened into a stubborn line, and she was quiet for a few minutes. “Put me down. I’ll walk.”
He gave her an incredulous glance. “No. That will slow us down.”
“No, I mean, I’ll walk, and you keep running.”
That didn’t even deserve a response, so Cal just kept running.
“Cal, I’m serious.” Her voice caught on the last word. “I don’t want to be the reason you get caught.”
“I’m not leaving you here.” Anger tightened his throat so much that he was surprised he could talk. “I’m never fucking leaving you.”
There was another stiff moment of silence before she spoke. “Before, at work, it felt like I was helping you. Now I’m just a useless, heavy, bleeding...albatross. An albatross that’s going to get you sent back to that awful place. Oh fuck, now I’m crying. I’m a heavy, useless, bleeding, crying albatross!”
Despite everything, Cal had to swallow a grin at her mournful monologue. He was glad her face was buried against his shoulder and she couldn’t see his mouth quirk up at the corners. Her sobs quickly wiped away his smile, though.
“We’re just taking turns,” he said, twisting her to his side as he passed an evergreen tree so the branches wouldn’t scratch her.
“What?” Her voice came out soggy and muffled.
“I’m the albatross, then you’re the albatross... It’s a whole fucking albatross circle.” He had no idea if what he was saying made any sense, but he had to try to get her to stop crying. The assholes in the lab hadn’t made him nearly tough enough to withstand her tears.
Lauren gave a watery giggle. “Albatross circle.”
“Yeah.” He felt a warm rush of success at her laugh, as teary as it was. “I’m the big daddy albatross who started this whole messed-up thing. If it weren’t for me, you’d be happily working at your desk right now.”
“Nope.” She still sounded stuffed-up, but the tears had thankfully stopped. “You’re wrong there, Big Daddy Albatross. It’s Sunday. Besides, you try to ‘happily work’ with Stacy right next to you, telling you what to do. I’d pick a concussion over working with her any day.”
He just grunted, picking up the pace at the reminder of her injuries.
“And if I were working,” she continued, her arms tightening to adjust to his faster jog, “I’d probably be in the mail room, making out with you.”
“Nope. You’d have to make out with some other dick-face in the mail room, since I’d have been picked up and brought back to the lab. You warned me, remember?”
She scoffed at that. “You would’ve gotten out without me. You’re super-senses guy.”
With a shake of his head, he jogged across a clearing toward another stand of trees. “It was your plan, your car, your idea to hide me in the ladies’ room, your theft of the suit... I’d be back at that hellhole of a lab without your help.”
Glancing down, he saw a quick smile slip across her face.
“Okay” was all she said, leaning her cheek against his shoulder.
“Okay what?”
“I’ll call you Big Daddy Albatross.”
Since he was so happy that she was smiling rather than crying, Cal couldn’t put much force behind his growl.
“It’s kind of long, though,” she said. “Maybe Big Daddy Al?”
He tried not to smile.
She gave a fake-offended gasp and pulled her head back so she could look at him. “Is this all a scheme to make me call you ‘Daddy’ again? You seem a little obsessed with that.”
A laugh burst out of him, and he hitched her higher in his arms, making her squeak and cling to him. “You just want me to offer you candy.”
“I wouldn’t turn it down. I’ve become accustomed to a steady supply of junk food.”
“Once we take care of your injuries, we’ll get you fed.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
* * *
For as tiny a town as it was in, the vet clinic was a good-sized building. It was also well protected.
“There’s an alarm?” Lauren whispered, hearing the warning beeps echo through the empty clinic. Cal had gotten them inside through a back door, destroying the lock and doorknob with one hard twist. He’d carefully swung the door closed, propping a nearby wastebasket against it to keep it from swinging open.
“I’m on it.” He gently set her down on an exam table and disappeared toward the front of the building.
Lauren looked around. She was in what she was pretty sure was the surgery area. It was a large room, filled with white cupboards and various machines. There were small windows set close to the ceiling, high enough that no one could see into the supposed-to-be-empty clinic.
The beeps stopped and she let out a long, shaky breath. She wasn’t surprised that disabling alarms was part of Cal’s skill set, but waiting for the warning beeps to turn into a shrieking alarm had put her on edge. Her head throbbed with the exhalation, the heavy beat of pain matching the one in her leg.
Cal slipped back into the room and started moving from cupboard to cupboard.
“Why an alarm?” she asked, more to take her mind off the pain than anything else. “Is someone going to steal one of those cones dogs have to wear around their necks?”
“Elizabethan collars,” he said, pulling a couple of brown bottles and a handful of gauze squares from one of the cabinets.
“What?”
“That’s what those cones are called.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “You have an infinite amount of useless information in your brain.”
“Yeah.”
“So why the alarm?”
He nodded toward a locked cabinet. “Ketamine and euthanasia drugs, mostly. Pants off.”
“Oh.” She obediently unbuttoned her jeans, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Is now really the time for gettin’ busy?”
“What?”
“Joke. Sorry.” Lauren wiggled, working the jeans under her butt. Cal grabbed the waistband and tugged. Her breath caught when the dried blood on the fabric pulled at her wound. Cal gave her an apologetic glance, although he didn’t stop tugging until her jeans and boots were off.
She adjusted her panties, which had slid down as her jeans were removed and partially exposed her cheeks. Even though he’d seen all there was to see of her body, she still felt weirdly shy about showing off her ass.
Her attempts at modesty didn’t really matter, as Cal was intently focused on the cut crossing the top of her thigh. Pulling off her jeans had started it bleeding again, just a slow seep of red. He poured a yellow liquid onto a piece of gauze and started cleaning off the old and new blood around the wound.
She held her breath, anticipating pain, but he was surprisingly gentle. Although her leg still throbbed, his ministrations didn’t make it worse. Watching was grossing her out, however, so she looked away and started talking.
“Any side effects to using pet drugs on me?” she asked, her gaze bouncing around the room, trying to look anywhere except the bloody stripe across her thigh.
“This is just an antiseptic,” he said absently, holding up one of the brown bottles. “We’ll get you some antibiotics too. Cats, dogs, humans—same shit, different dosages.”
“So I won’t start barking? Or purring? Or not being able to resist running after a ball?”
He looked up from her leg and met her gaze, his mouth curving up wickedly. “First age-play and now pet-play. You’re a kinky little thing, aren’t you?”
Lauren couldn’t help but laugh as she wiggled her eyebrows lecherously. “Don’t forget playing doctor. You seem to really like to strip me naked and treat my ow-ies.”
In a second, his expression changed from teasing to heated. Her grin fell away as he leaned in closer and closer. When his mouth finally met hers, she groaned and closed her eyes. His kiss was light, his lips just brushing hers, but it was enough to make her forget all of her aches and pains.
He pulled away, and she opened her eyes, smiling. With a shake of his head, he turned back to her leg.
As she watched him close the cut with butterfly bandages, she said softly, “Oh, Doctor...”
His eyes flashed up to hers. “Don’t make me fuck you.”
Lauren laughed, although it sounded a bit husky. He said that like it was a threat and not a tempting, tempting suggestion. “Sorry, Doc. Carry on.”
With a grunt, he finished tending to her leg, taping a bandage securely over the wound. He straightened to once again gaze into her eyes, more clinically this time.
“Your pupils look good,” he said.
“Why, thank you.” She grinned at him. “Your pupils are quite attractive, too.”
He gave a short laugh and flicked her nose. “I’d feel better if you had a CT scan, but I think your concussion is mild.”
“Do they have one here? A CT scanner, I mean?” she asked, looking around curiously and then wincing as he probed the bump on her head.
“No.”
She shrugged, trying to keep her head still while she did it so she didn’t interrupt his inspection. “My big ol’ head probably wouldn’t have fit in it anyway, if it was pet-sized.”
He pulled his hands back, obviously finished with examining her skull. “I would’ve gotten it to fit.”
“That sounds a little ominous, Dr. Frankenstein.” She reached toward him, running a gentle finger next to the smear of blood at his temple. “What about your injuries? Do I get to play the doctor, now?”
“No.” He grabbed a clean gauze square, dampened it with antiseptic and scrubbed firmly at the streak of blood.
Lauren winced in sympathy. “Ouch. Aren’t you being a little rough?”
“Nope.” He lifted the gauze and showed her the unbroken skin he’d just cleaned. “It’s healed.”
“Whoa!” She blinked and touched the spot. It was slightly pink but otherwise showed no sign of the cut that had existed just a few hours earlier. “Bionic healing man in action. Can you grow a finger back if it gets chopped off?”
“No. Stay here.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, he was gone. As she waited for him to return, the seriousness of their situation crept through her mind. It had been one thing to be running from the fake NSA—Cal’s former captors and definite bad guys. Now, though, they were on the run from real, legitimate law-enforcement people, who were probably following their trail through the woods right now, getting closer and closer to the vet clinic.
She shivered, and then Cal was back, offering her a handful of pills and a paper cup of water. Accepting the tablets, she glanced up at him curiously.
“The four white ones are antibiotics,” he explained. “The two red ones are Tylenol.”
“They give Tylenol to dogs?” she asked before popping two of the pills in her mouth and taking a drink.
Cal’s mouth quirked. “People work here. I got it from the bathroom.”
“Bathroom?” she repeated hopefully, after chasing the last of the pills with water. The need to pee surfaced at the reminder.
“Go ahead.” He nodded. “Through that door and second door on the left. Don’t leave prints. Cover your hand with your sleeve before you touch anything.”
She was inside the bathroom before she realized that she still wasn’t wearing any pants. Or boots. As she washed her hands, she made a face at the thought of wiggling back into her torn and bloody jeans. Raising her head, she reluctantly met her gaze in the mirror.
It was about as bad as she expected. Although the skin hadn’t broken over the lump at her hairline, it was starting to bruise, blue and purple joining the red by her temple. The rest of her face was chalky white, except for the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair... She groaned softly. It was a sad, sad mess. What had started as a sleek ponytail that morning had degenerated into something a bird wouldn’t even nest in. She figured it’d be easiest just to grab some dog clippers and shave herself bald.
“You okay?” Cal opened the door and walked in.
She sighed. “You have a serious lack of respect for bathroom privacy.”
He just kept his eyes locked on her face in the mirror and cocked an eyebrow.
“I’m fine.” She tugged at an errant strand of hair. “Except for the catastrophe on top of my head. I’m considering just shaving it all off.”
“No fucking way.” His hands came up to smooth it protectively. “No shaving. No cutting.”
“What’s your solution, then?” She tried to run her fingers through a section, wincing when she hit a snarl.
He worked the ponytail holder out, carefully extracting it from the snarls. After placing the holder on the edge of the sink, he smoothed her hair back with both hands, occasionally tugging a leaf or small twigs from the strands. His hands moved gently over the throbbing lump on her head.
“How has having tree parts in my hair become the norm?” she grumbled, watching as he dropped another small piece of bark into the toilet.
Cal ignored her and continued his hairdressing efforts, twisting her tangled mop into a semi-neat bun and securing it with the hair tie. As he reached over to flush the toilet, he asked, “Better?”
“Much,” she agreed, leaning back against him as she admired his efforts in the mirror. “I’ve moved up from a bird’s-nest trailer park to somewhere in the avian suburbs.”
“You’re strange,” he said, but he gave her uninjured temple a kiss anyway. “Let’s go.”
“Can’t.” When he gave her a questioning look, Lauren clarified, “No pants.”
“Got you covered.” He grinned a little. “Literally.”
She followed him back to the surgery room and saw he had cleaned up all evidence of their visit, except for a pair of jeans slung over the exam table. Picking them up, Lauren realized they weren’t the bloody, torn ones she’d been wearing earlier. She eyed Cal curiously as she tugged them up her legs, wondering how he’d managed to conjure a pair of jeans out of thin air. His mouth quirked a little as she eyed him.
“Employee locker,” he explained before she could ask. “She probably keeps a change of clothes here in case shit happens. Again, literally.”
The jeans were a little too long and fairly loose, but they weren’t in danger of falling off her hips. She gave a satisfied nod and shot Cal a thank-you smile.
“This probably qualifies as shit happening.” She hitched the jeans up and shoved her feet into her boots. “Ready?”
He nodded and grabbed a partially filled garbage bag from the corner. Lauren assumed it contained the evidence of their visit, including used gauze and the remains of her jeans. She followed him toward the hallway leading to the door they’d used to enter. As he walked, he twisted the top of the garbage bag and tied a quick knot.
Suddenly, Cal froze, and she almost crashed into his back. She was about to ask what was wrong but decided to keep quiet when she took in his stillness.
“A vehicle just entered the parking lot,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear.
Lauren swallowed.
“Another one pulled in after it.”
Her heart was beating so fast that she almost missed his words. “Police?” she whispered.
His head cocked, as if he were listening, and then he shook his head. “No. Hang on—they’re talking.”
For what felt like an infinite amount of time but was probably less than thirty seconds, Lauren waited and tried not to hyperventilate.
“It’s one of the vets and a client,” Cal finally said. “His dog was hit by an ATV.”
“Oh, poor thing!”
When he gave her a look, she demanded, “What? I should lose any decent human feelings just because we’re on the run?”
“No, just prioritize.” He moved silently to the back door. “Let’s get away, and then you can feel bad for the dog.”
She shuffled behind him, trying to move quietly but not succeeding nearly as well as Cal. “What door are they coming in? Can you hear?”
“Front,” he said, and Lauren’s breath flew out in a rush of relief. “The vet’s unlocking the door now.”
“Won’t he notice the alarm’s not activated?” she whispered.
With a shrug, he said, “He’ll probably just blame the last person to leave yesterday for not setting it.”
He moved the garbage can that had been in front of the exit, and the door swung open. “Go. Head for the trees. Follow the building until you get to the Dumpster, then use it for cover. You’ll be visible from the back windows of the clinic for approximately twenty feet until you reach the woods. Walk with purpose, but don’t run. I’ll get this door wedged shut, drop this garbage in the Dumpster, and be right behind you. Got it?”
“Got it.” She tried for a tone of firm confidence but heard her voice waver. When he wasn’t dropping the f-bomb every other word, she knew things were extra-serious.
Slipping through the open door, she stayed close to the building, her shoulder almost touching the back wall of the clinic. The Dumpster wasn’t far, less than ten feet from the door, and she let out a quick breath when she reached it, its heavy bulk giving her a slight sense of security. All too quickly, though, she reached the end of her concealment and had to force her feet to step into the open.
A touch on her hand made her jump. Her head whipped around, and she saw Cal walking next to her. His fingers intertwined with hers, and her heartbeat slowed a little so it was no longer thundering in her ears.
“Did you get the door to stay closed?”
He gave a short nod. “Wedged a small piece of wood underneath the door. It should stay closed.”
They were almost at the trees. Lauren was half-expecting a shout to come from the clinic, but nothing came. Once they reached the cover of the woods, her breathing sped up until she was gasping.
“Fuck.” Cal picked her up by the waist and hauled her behind an evergreen, using the tree to block the line of sight between them and the clinic. “Lauren. Look at me.”
She met his eyes but couldn’t slow her breathing. Her lungs felt tight and panic flowed through her. Her body wasn’t obeying her. She was completely out of control.
“Lauren!” His sharp tone broke through her swirling panic, and she focused on his face. “Breathe with me.”
He counted to three as he breathed in and held it, breathed out and held it. He pulled one of her hands to rest on his chest, to feel the slow rhythm of his inhalations and exhalations. She tried to tell him she couldn’t control it, couldn’t slow down the air rushing in and out of her body, but then she realized she already had. Her chest was mimicking the rise and fall of his.
As her breathing slowed, the pressure in her chest eased. They breathed together until Lauren’s brain was functioning semi-normally again. She tried to think of a quip to mock her panic, something to break the tension, but she burst into tears instead.
Cal pulled her into his chest, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, tucking her face against him. Her body shook with violent, heaving sobs that scared her almost more than hyperventilating had. She wasn’t a crier, and she couldn’t remember ever crying so hard in her life.
“Hush, brave girl,” he crooned in her ear. “You did good. You’re safe now.”
For some reason, that flipped the switch in her brain from tears to anger. She pulled back and punched him in the belly. A bad idea, she realized, shaking out her stinging hand and wondering if she’d ever learn not to rough up Cal.
“I am not!” she sobbed, hiccupping on the last word.
“Not what?” He was watching her warily, as if she were a crazy person, and that just pissed her off more.
“Not safe!” She made a wild gesture toward the hidden vet clinic and scratched her hand on a prickly evergreen branch. “Ow.”
He just kept eyeing her.
“There’s fake NSA guys and baby-hating scientists and real, live, actual cops with real, live, actual dogs tracking us, and I’m wearing jeans stolen from some poor woman who won’t have anything to wear the next time a puppy pees down her leg, and we don’t have a car because you blew it up, and it’s cold, and my leg hurts, and I’m being a whiny baby, and I don’t care!” Her voice started to rise toward the end, but then she remembered that they weren’t far from the occupied clinic. She brought her volume back to a heated whisper. “I really don’t feel safe right now, okay?”
To make everything worse, her nose was running. She snuffled, trying to decide if it was grosser to wipe her snot on her coat cuff or just let it run.
“Okay.” He put a hand out but didn’t touch her, his fingers just hovering next to her shoulder for a few seconds before his arm dropped back to his side. “Just...hang in there a little longer. There’s another town less than ten miles from here. We’ll get another car there. After that, it’ll just be seven hours of driving. We’re in the homestretch.”
Lauren gave up the which-is-grosser debate and swiped her cuff over her runny nose. “Ten miles of walking and seven hours of driving is a homestretch?”
He gave her a tiny grin and shrugged. “Sure. Plus, we’ll get snacks. Some extra-sugary shit.”
After eyeing him for a few seconds, she gave a shivery sigh. She was helpless to resist him when he smiled. “Fine.”
As she started tromping through the woods, Lauren heard a snort behind her. “Know where you’re headed?”
“No clue,” she said without slowing or even turning her head. Her chest still shook with the occasional hiccup.
Cal was suddenly in front of her, forcing her to stop before she crashed into his broad back.
“Hop on,” he said, crouching.
“I can walk.” She eyed his back, though, tempted by the thought of a ride.
He didn’t move. “I can run. Faster than you.”
With a pseudo-reluctant sigh, she climbed on, latching her arms around his shoulders. As soon as she was settled, he started jogging at a brisk pace.
“Sorry,” she muttered after several strides.
“For what?”
“Being the albatross again. The weepy albatross.”
“Hey.” He heaved her up a little, making her catch her breath and grab his shoulders tighter. “Didn’t we already settle this? Who’s the fucking Big Daddy Albatross?”
She had to laugh at that. “Did you just ask me who’s my daddy?”
With a growl, he stopped and swung her around. She gasped as the world whirled until she was face-to-face with Cal.
“Whoa.” She blinked to settle the dizzy rush in her head. “You’re stupidly strong.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Thanks. I think.”
“What was the change in position about?”
He shrugged. “You sounded happy. I just wanted to see your face.”
“Aww...” Trusting him to support her weight, she released her grip on his shoulders so she could pinch both of his cheeks. “You’re such a sweet cheese ball, Big Daddy Al.”
She saw him roll his eyes before he tossed her onto his back again and picked up his ground-covering lope.
“Can’t help it,” he said. “I fucking hate when you cry.”
“Me too.” She tried to rest her chin on his shoulder, but it bounced with his movement, so she straightened with a sigh.
Both were quiet for several minutes as they jogged along until Lauren smacked his shoulder.
“Hey!” Calvin protested, although it didn’t seem to interrupt his stride. “What was that?”
“You promised to feed me, remember?” Her churning stomach reminded her that it had been hours since they’d eaten. The antibiotics she’d taken on an empty stomach weren’t helping matters.
“Figured I’d feed you once the carrying part of this trip was over.”
“Is that a crack about my weight?”
He was silent, but she could see the edge of his smirk.
“Okay, that’s it. You’ve officially been renamed Big Daddy Asshole!” When he laughed, she lifted her hand to smack him again but then changed her mind. She leaned forward and nipped his earlobe instead.
“Shit,” he growled, his arms tightening under her legs. “Better watch it, or I’ll stop and fuck you right here on the cold, hard ground.”
Lauren eyed the ground. “I’d almost consider taking you up on that, except for the gazillion government agencies chasing us right at this moment.”
His grunt sounded like an assent.
She pictured the two of them going at it on the ground while armed law-enforcement officers circled and stared at their naked, humping bodies, and she gave a half-horrified, half-amused groan.
“What?” he asked.
Closing her eyes tightly to erase the image, she said, “Just a bad mental picture.”
“Cops catching us fucking on the ground?”
She jolted and stared at the side of his face. “How’d you know? Is mind reading another one of your superpowers?”
“No. I was just picturing the same thing.”
“Thank you, Jesus.” She sighed in relief. “If you could read my thoughts, I’d be embarrassed about ninety percent of the time.”
His laugh was low and growly. “Dirty mind, huh?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
* * *
“I never thought I’d say this,” Lauren sighed, staring over Calvin’s shoulder at the fields stretched out in front of them, “but I wish we were still in the woods.”
He just gave a tense nod. “You okay to walk? We’ll attract less attention that way.”
“Sure.”
She slid off his back and regretted her quick assertion when her feet hit the ground and her legs wobbled.
Cal turned around and caught her by both arms. “Okay?”
Nodding, she forced herself to step back and find her balance. “I’m good. Ready?”
After watching her closely for a few seconds as if waiting to see if she’d fall over, he strode out of the sparse cover of the woods into the open field. It looked like a hay field that had been mowed toward the end of the growing season, since the dormant grass flopping limply on the ground was short. Taking a deep breath, Lauren followed. Her legs felt better after a few strides, and she trotted a couple of steps to catch up to Cal.
“How much farther, map-head?”
“Map-head?”
“Guy with maps in his head? Is that better?”
“No.”
He stayed quiet for several moments. Lauren figured he was punishing her for the nicknames. She didn’t say anything, determined not to be the one who broke first.
“Well?” she finally said, not able to help herself. Besides, he’d stayed quiet for months in that mail room of his, so it’d probably be smart to avoid playing the quiet game with him in the future. She was almost guaranteed to lose.
“Just under three miles.”
“But...” she added.
He lifted a questioning eyebrow.
“That distance had a ‘but’ at the end.”
With an amused snort, he gave a short nod toward the barbed-wire fence they were quickly approaching. “It’s just under three miles as the crow flies. We’re not crows.”
Lauren eyed the length of the fence. It seemed to be never-ending. “And therein lies the ‘but.’”
He grunted in agreement. “We can get through that one, but we’re not going to be able to make it in a straight shot.”
She nodded without saying anything. The idea of walking for miles and miles was suddenly overwhelming, but there wasn’t anything either of them could do. As she trudged closer to the fence, she shot Cal a look.
“What?” he asked.
“Another handy superpower would’ve been flying ability—or at least a built-in jet pack.”
“Right. That’d be inconspicuous. How quickly do you think they’d shoot us out of the sky?”
“Yeah,” she sighed as they reached the fence line. “You’re probably right. Maybe just hovering ability...?”
“Step through,” he commanded, stepping on the bottom strand of barbed wire and using his covered arm to push the middle strand higher.
As she ducked between the two stretched wires, she muttered, “How hard would it’ve been to replace the bossy gene with the much more awesome hovering gene?”
“Can’t remember for sure,” he said, twisting around to slip between the wires, “but I think that bossy gene has always been mine.”
She sighed again. “Figures it’s bred into you.”
With an amused huff, he grabbed her hand and gave her a tug forward. “Enough talking. Use that oxygen to walk.”
“I can do both, you know. Multitasking and all.”
He just shook his head at that. As she trudged forward, she did fall silent, although not to obey His Bossiness. He was right—it was easier to walk without talking, especially as the last threads of adrenaline slipped away. She was tired and aching, and three miles suddenly felt like fifty. With a sigh, she forced her feet to move forward.
* * *
She was still silent what felt like miles and hours later. Her whole body throbbed, and exhaustion made each step heavier than the last. The ground was rutted, and she kept catching the toes of her boots on the rough surface. The field stretched before her, endless and impossible, causing her nose and eyes to burn with the return of tears.
Clamping her jaw closed so tightly her molars squeaked together, Lauren forced the tears back. She was already way over her quota of crying for the day, even taking into account the car chases, rollover accidents, vet-clinic break-ins and endless walking of the day. Even though he’d had the same day she’d had, plus some extra running while carrying her lazy and/or unconscious ass, Calvin wasn’t breaking down blubbering at the thought of walking three miles. He was bionic, sure, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t removed his tear ducts.
As she gave herself the mental pep talk, her toe caught on a dead, ropy weed, and she almost fell facedown into the dirt. Cal caught her and, in the same fluid motion, tossed her onto his back. Startled, she grabbed at his shoulders, hitching her legs around his waist automatically.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, pressing her face into his neck. She knew she should get down and walk, carry her own weight—literally—but it felt so nice to not be walking. Even through their coats, his body heat warmed her front.
“It’s quicker this way, anyway,” he said, adjusting her position on his back before breaking into a jog.
“More noticeable, though,” she protested weakly. “Jogging piggyback is going to catch someone’s attention a lot more than a couple walking like normal people.”
“We’re strangers walking through farm fields. If we’re seen, we’ll be noticed, piggyback or no piggyback. The best thing is to get out of sight quickly.”
Turning her head to look at the open plains around them, Lauren sighed. “Not much chance of that for a while.”
Cal didn’t respond. The regular rhythm of his jogging body lulled her into an exhausted daze. She had no idea how long he ran as she clung to him, half-asleep, before he slowed to a walk and patted her leg.
“Laur.”
She made an enquiring sound that wasn’t quite a word.
“Lauren.”
Forcing her head up, she asked almost coherently, “What’s wrong?”
“You need to walk,” he said, letting her slide down until her feet touched the ground. “We’ll be coming into view of the town soon.”
“Okay.” Her legs wobbled beneath her just standing still. She wasn’t sure how well walking was going to work.
Cal slung an arm across her back, supporting a good portion of her weight. She forced her feet to move, noticing that they were on a narrow dirt road. It actually could barely be called a road, since it wasn’t much more than two tire tracks cutting through the weeds.
“What’s the plan?” Lauren asked, trying to take her mind off the burning ache in her thigh.
“We need another car.”
Although she thought about making yet another car-theft joke, she was just too tired. “Are we just going to walk down Main Street and grab one?”
“I am. You—” he scanned the few buildings marking the edge of town and then nodded toward something off to the right “—are going to hang out in the weeds behind that shed.”
“Sitting still while you fetch us some wheels?” She nodded. “I can get behind that.”
He glanced at her, his eyes dark.
“What?”
His arm tightened, taking even more of her weight. “I get worried when you’re compliant.”
She gave him a quick smile. “Don’t get used to it. Give me a night of sleep—okay, maybe a week of sleep—and I’ll be as contrary as ever.”
They followed the two-track road as it looped around the outskirts of the town. When they were parallel to the small structure Cal had picked for her hiding place, Lauren tried to look casual as she slipped alongside the shed. It was listing to one side and surrounded by junk. Picking her way through the rusted metal and scraps of lumber, she crouched down in the brown remains of the weeds. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay in her squatting position long, but she wanted to be as small and unnoticeable as possible. Sitting seemed a much more vulnerable position if something happened and she had to be up and running.
She looked around, trying to spot Calvin, but he’d already disappeared. The shed blocked her view of town except for the house that appeared to belong to the tilted structure currently giving her cover. The house had obviously been abandoned by everything except rodents a long time ago. Almost all of the windows were covered in plywood and the roof sagged in the middle like an undercooked cake.
Lauren resisted the urge to peek around the corner of the shed to see if she could see Cal committing his umpteenth felony. She could hear faint sounds from town—the hum and growl of vehicles, the slam of a door, strains of country music from someone’s car or home. She shifted her weight, feeling warning tingles in her feet as they threatened to fall asleep. Rising to a more upright crouch, she gritted her teeth as her toes woke up in a rush of pins and needles.
She looked around again. There was no one in sight, but awareness prickled the back of her neck. She didn’t know if she should trust her instincts or just dismiss it as paranoia. Either way, there wasn’t much she could do until Cal returned. If she ran into town, she’d just draw more attention to them.
The waiting was unbearable. She shifted along the shed wall until she was closer to the road on which they’d walked earlier. Her gaze darted around as she tried to keep her breathing steady—whether someone was out there watching or not, panicking was not going to help anything.
She heard the low rumble of an engine getting closer, and she held her breath, hoping desperately that it was Cal and not a townsperson or, even worse, some sort of law enforcement. A red car edged with rust and looking like a relic from the seventies pulled up. Lauren blew out a hard breath of relief when she saw Calvin in the driver’s seat.
She ran across the short stretch of weeds and around the front of the car. Leaning across the bench seat, Cal opened the passenger door. She caught it and was about to round the door and jump in when she heard an odd whistle followed by a faint thud.
The world went still for a second as she stared at Cal—and the odd cylindrical object protruding from his upper arm. It was silver except for the bright orange-and-yellow end that looked strangely like a flower.
“Fuck!” Cal’s profanity broke the spell as he grabbed the object and yanked it out of his arm. “Get in!”
She dove into the car as he hit the accelerator. Gravel pinged against the underbelly as the rear wheels gained traction and they shot forward. The engine whined, and Cal shifted gears.
When she heard a shout behind them, Lauren looked out the window, flinching when she saw three guys in camo running toward them.
“Cal! There are three bad guys on our right!” She knew she didn’t have to yell since he was sitting right next to her, but she couldn’t help it—her words just came out loudly.
“I see them. Hang on,” he said, shifting gears again and sending the car sliding around a curve in the road. His voice sounded strange, almost slurred, and she shot him a look before grabbing at the seat as they whipped around the turn.
Clenching her teeth to hold back a whimper, Lauren hung on. As soon as the car straightened, she risked a glance behind them. Two large SUVs were tearing along the two-track road after them.
“More SUVs chasing us,” she groaned. “I’d rather take the guys on foot.”
Glancing in the rearview, Cal just grunted and swung the car into another turn, bringing them onto the town’s main street. As they flew through a red light without slowing, Lauren grabbed the dash and squeezed her eyes shut.
After a few seconds without hearing or feeling a collision, she opened her eyes. They were passing through the downtown area, speeding so fast that what she imagined were cute, old-fashioned storefronts flew by in a blur. The car drifted toward the centerline and her gaze flew to Cal.
He was swaying, his eyes rolling back until mostly the whites showed.
“No! Cal, stay with me!” She knelt next to him, grabbing the wheel with one hand and patting his cheek with the other, smacking him harder and harder when he didn’t respond. The car started to slow as he slumped toward the door, his eyes closing completely.
“Cal! Come on, come on, don’t pass out on me now,” she muttered, but it was too late. He was out.
She let go of the steering wheel for a moment to grab his arm and a handful of coat. She hauled him toward her, tipping him sideways on the bench seat. He was still mostly in the driver’s seat but it would have to do. She grabbed the steering wheel again and straightened the slowing car with jerky motions as she climbed over his limp body. She wedged her butt between his legs and the door, using her feet to shove his out of the way of the pedals. Although her position was twisted and squashed, she could reach the important parts well enough to drive. Reaching over his thighs and grabbing the gearshift, she glanced in the rearview and saw the closer SUV was coming up fast behind them.
“Oh freaking goat turds. Cal, why did you pick this exact moment to get hit with a tranquilizer dart?” she muttered, her voice getting higher and higher pitched as she frantically used her rusty manual-transmission skills to accelerate. The gears offered a grinding protest, making her wince and give the car a mental apology.
The car lurched forward and then smoothed out, the engine roaring as their speed increased. Lauren forced herself to not look at the speedometer or in the rearview mirror at the pursuing SUVs. Both would just make her panic—well, panic more—and she had to focus on driving, especially since she was going really, really fast. A loving owner must have juiced up the car, since, for a seventies tank, this thing could fly.
She needed a plan. The bad guys had numbers and legitimate law enforcement on their side. Even with the hot rod, there were too many ways she and Cal could lose this race.
She shot a quick glance at the unconscious man flopped over on the seat next to her. Losing the race meant losing their freedom and each other and all sorts of other things that she really didn’t want to lose, especially on her watch. Cal had taken care of them for the past three days, had gotten them out of trouble too many times to count. It was her turn to keep them safe, even if it was just long enough to let Calvin wake.
Tightening her fingers around the steering wheel, she set her jaw and pushed harder on the gas. A county road sign flew by, catching her attention and giving her a rough idea of a semi-stupid plan. Allowing the car to slow slightly, she glanced in the rearview and saw the SUVs were just a few car lengths behind her, despite her speed.
“Please work,” she prayed. “Please, please, please...”
She slammed on the brakes, hearing the tires squeal in protest, and then hit the gas and jerked the steering wheel to the right, hard. The rear end of the car swung wide and she fought to straighten it as images of spinning into the ditch ran through her brain. Her body was pressed against the door from centrifugal force and the weight of Cal’s body as it slid closer to her.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” The car grudgingly straightened and roared forward down the new road. She looked in her rearview mirror and saw the first SUV on its side in the ditch. The second had slowed considerably to make the turn.
“Yes! Take that, you high-center-of-gravity pieces of shit!” Excited, she bounced in her seat, as much as she could bounce with Cal pinning her against the door, and patted the steering wheel. “You may not have air bags or...well, any safety features at all, but at least you’re pretty close to the ground.”
She accelerated again, not wanting to lose her minuscule lead. She made turn after turn, weaving through the countryside, not thinking of any final direction or destination—just away. She lost the second SUV at the fifth turn, but she kept driving, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds. She slowed the few times she passed another vehicle going the opposite direction, mostly pickup trucks, although the approach of a dark-colored SUV made her heart beat faster until she got close enough to see the golden retriever hanging his head out the back window.
The needle on the gas gauge dipped below an eighth of a tank, and Lauren knew she needed to hide somewhere until Mr. GPS-head woke. She looked over at Cal for the hundredth time, watching for the movement of his chest that showed he was breathing. Except for that slight rise and fall, and the short slides across the seat when the car changed direction, he was still.
She looked around as she drove, trying to find a place to pull off that would be sheltered from view. Shorn fields stretched around them, broken by clusters of trees that most likely sheltered homes from the wind. Lauren wished it were summer, with lots of lovely leaves and brush that would hide them, instead of this barren emptiness.
A driveway—little more than a dirt path, actually—caught her eye. The mailbox at the end was rusted and leaning listlessly to the side. She turned onto the drive and followed it between two fields, hoping the sad state of the mailbox meant that the place wasn’t lived in, rather than that the occupants used a shiny new box at the local post office instead.
When the first dilapidated structures came into view, it looked promising. A small shed drooped at about the same angle as the mailbox and weather had stripped an old barn of all but bare traces of dark red paint.
She slowed to a crawl as the car bumped over potholes and rocks, the driveway almost disappearing in the weed-choked farmyard. As the house came into view, looking almost but not quite as rough as the barn, Lauren had to choke back a laugh. This was uncomfortably similar to the beginning of so many horror movies.
The sun was setting, the run-down buildings casting long shadows. She couldn’t see any movement from the house, but the windows were small and dark, so anyone could be watching them.
Bringing the car to a full stop, she hesitated for a few seconds, tapping her finger on the steering wheel. The driveway, as rough as it was, split just ahead—one section leading toward the house and the other toward the barn. If anyone was home, she should drive toward the house, get out and knock on the door, pretend they were lost or something. If the place were empty, she’d rather head straight for the barn. The large doorway looked as if it would be wide enough to accommodate the car and, as long as there was room inside for her to park, they could hide until Cal was conscious again.
The barn was the most tempting, especially when she heard the distant drone of what sounded like a helicopter. Although she knew that the majority of helicopters were used by good, helpful people who weren’t into kidnapping lab escapees and their girlfriends, the sound made her stomach clench. If the agents lost their trail on the ground, the next logical step was to find them from the air.
The barn it was, then.
Before she could move the car in that direction, she heard a sound she’d never heard in real life before, but recognized instantly all the same.
It was the racking of a shotgun, right outside her window.