Hybrid Zone Revelation, page 16
Using the woods as cover, I circled around to the back of the house and approached the porch. The main door was open, leaving only the screen door to get through. I stole up the steps and knelt off to the side of the door. Every sound became magnified as I concentrated on listening to what was happening inside the house. I nearly blew my cover when I was startled by the loud swearing of the one who’d just found his dead partner.
Bringing a hand to my chest, I willed my racing heart to calm. When I could hear something other than my heart pounding in my ears, I leaned forward to listen again. The house was silent. Seizing the handle of the screen door, I eased it open a few inches and leaned forward on one knee. The interior was dark, like the power was out. Forgetting about the unwritten rule that all screen doors must creak, I stiffened at the whine that sounded as I inched the screen open further.
“Dang it,” I swore silently. Wrenching it open far enough to allow me to enter, I dashed inside and hunkered down beside a bookshelf.
The fourth guy rounded the corner with a pudding cup in his hand. “Nettles, that you?”
Wow. Even I knew that you did not announce your position to the unidentified entrant when you had two guys missing. Not to mention, his attention was focused on the pudding in his hand and not the door.
He reached the door and pushed the screen open slightly, holding it steady as he conducted his inspection. “Must have been the wind,” he muttered and let the screen door slam shut. He turned to leave and then paused. Reaching for the main door, he closed and locked it. That was where his caution ended. His attention was already focused on the pudding cup before he had fully turned around.
The radio tucked into the pocket of his trousers popped, and the guy in the woods more or less began a litany of undecipherable growling through the speaker. But I understood the instruction to contact headquarters. When he reached to set his pudding cup down, I stepped up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around, and I hit him with the barometer that had been attached to the wall above my hiding place.
“I don’t think you should make that call,” I said as he fell.
If he’d had a gun, I would have picked it up. But all he had was a pudding cup, which I may or may not come back for later. Stepping over him on my way to Reynolds, I spied the familiar hutch. I hoped it had a separate power source from the house. Reynolds would probably know.
I opened the front door and stopped cold. The one I’d left free in the woods, the one too big to fight, was standing with one foot on the stairs and one foot on the porch next to Reynolds’ shoulder. The gun he held was pointed squarely at my chest.
Prying my fingers free of the door knob, I pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the porch. “You made good time,” I said casually, sparing a brief glance at Reynolds.
“I knew which way you were headed,” he rasped. “Though, I didn’t think a little thing like you would be the source of trouble.” He lifted his head away from the scope. “You’re the first hybrid I’ve actually seen. Gotta tell you,” he sneered. “Looks real good.” His eyes slid greedily over me. “Real good,” he repeated.
Revolting. But my salvation was at hand. Tilting my head to the side, I made sure the assailant’s eyes stayed locked with mine as Reynolds’ hand snaked towards his ankle. “You think?” I flirted as I smiled. “I’ve only ever seen myself in hybrid form one time.”
“Oh, yeah,” he drawled. “Like right out of a fantasy movie.”
If Reynolds didn’t finish this soon, I was going to attack out of sheer disgust.
“You know, we might—”
Reynolds grabbed his ankle and jerked him off his feet before he could complete the thought. The clattering of the rifle to the porch was followed by the thud of his head striking the steps. When the attacker remained still, I stepped forward and leaned over him. He was out cold.
“No we won’t,” I breathed in relief.
The explosion of gunfire and the sudden eruption of blood from the guy’s chest startled me. I stumbled down a couple steps before spinning around with wide eyes. Reynolds held the attacker’s rifle pressed to his shoulder.
“Reynolds,” I gulped, pressing both hands against my face while my heart rate settled back down.
“He shot first,” he said without emotion.
“Yes, he did,” I agreed, carefully watching until Reynolds lowered the rifle. “Are you okay?”
He set the rifle aside and stood to his feet. “I’ve been better,” he groaned. Pulling his jacket to one side, he reached a hand to his chest and freed the bullet forcing its way out through his skin.
“Want to trade?” I asked, holding out a slightly melted snickers bar.
He snorted and then winced, gently massaging the fast healing wound. “I believe I would.”
I took the bullet from his outstretched hand and gave him the snickers bar. The bullet was torn up pretty badly, but I thought the distorted letters were DTP.
“Any idea what DTP stamped on this bullet might mean?” I asked Reynolds.
“Disturbing the peace?” he said quickly.
I looked back up at him with raised eyebrows.
“Not like I would have experience in that…it’s common knowledge.” His face hardened at my look of disbelief.
“Have a wild side, do ya? A taste for creating disturbances?”
“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black,” he answered flatly.
I started to respond, then let it go. I did look good in black.
Chapter 9
Another link, I thought, rolling what was left of the bullet between my fingers. The woods in New Orleans, probably Granny’s and now here. Was the common thread me or the hybrids? I tossed the mangled casing onto the porch. It wasn’t going to tell me anything further, and there were still two men hanging around who wanted to see us dead.
“We still have two guys left to deal with,” I told Reynolds, trying not to look envious as he shoved the remaining bit of snickers into his mouth. “I left one guy tied up in the woods, and the other one I clocked inside. Or more accurately, barometered.”
Reynolds snorted softly in understanding as he sucked the chocolate from his fingers.
“And we have to retrieve Kenny.”
“Maybe not,” Reynolds said, shifting his gaze to focus over my shoulder.
“You don’t have to worry about the one you gift wrapped.”
My head swiveled in the direction of Kenny’s voice. He stood a few feet in front of the porch, a cord of rope held loosely in one hand. The only visible traces of the wound were the bloody remains of Reynolds’ makeshift bandage still clinging to him. There was one huge worry gone.
“You might want to change,” I suggested wryly. “We are supposed to be meeting the president.”
“Have you looked at yourself?” he replied tersely.
I could have guessed well enough, but I took an inventory anyway. My boots were all muddy. The blouse…beyond saving, unless bloody handprints were the newest rage. I’d also given new definition to the slit that had originally stopped somewhere mid-calf. To say the fashion ground I was standing on was thin was an understatement.
“Any left?” I asked Reynolds, who was examining the rifle’s chamber.
“Are you asking about the snickers or the rounds?”
“There’s snickers?” Kenny asked hopefully.
“Not anymore,” Reynolds said.
Smiling sadly at Kenny’s dashed hopes of a quick sugar fix, I said, “I was referring to the bullets.”
“Two,” he nodded.
“Let me see one.”
He slid the bullet free and tossed it to me. “I only need one anyway.”
“Wait,” I said sharply, reaching for him as he turned to go. “You can’t just kill him.”
“Keeping him alive is not worth the risk. I have to ensure that you stay alive. That’s my number one priority.”
“He was a techie, not like these other guys.”
“Techie or not, he came here as part of a team to complete a mission. Do I need to remind you what that mission was?”
“I know, but—”
Two shots splintered the front door cutting off my objection. Reynolds hit the deck, taking me with him.
“Can I shoot him now?” he sneered.
“Shoot him!” Kenny encouraged from beneath the porch.
I tried to hand Reynolds the bullet I was holding, but another shot piercing the floor between us caused Reynolds to roll away from me. I’d been wrong about him not having a gun, and in too big of a hurry to get to Reynolds to do a proper sweep of the place.
“Still waiting on that permission,” Reynolds gritted as he lifted the rifle in place.
“Do it,” I squeaked, hugging the railing as the biggest volley of shots yet peppered the porch. I cringed when I heard Kenny yelp.
“Shoot! Him!” Kenny roared in pain tinted anger.
Reynolds fitted the tip of the rifle into one of the holes the shooter had created in the door and pulled the trigger. I didn’t flinch this time when the gun fired. After Reynolds entered the house, I melted from my knees tucked position and lowered my face to the porch floor. Through the gaps between the boards, I found Kenny.
“You okay?” I whispered.
“Just great,” he snapped. “I was planning on getting a butt piercing anyway.”
“A butt piercing…Oh, Kenny—”
“All clear,” Reynolds yelled.
Kenny crawled out from under the porch and hobbled towards the steps. My eyes were naturally drawn to his rear end. The blood stain wasn’t large, nothing like what happened earlier.
“It’s just a scratch,” he said, clearly annoyed by my attention. “Don’t even think about taking a closer look. These sweet cheeks are someone else’s territory.”
Smiling at him, I said, “Ah, come on. I’m a doctor.”
“Nice try,” he muttered. “Did you search him?” He tilted his head in the direction of the guy prostrate on the steps.
“No.”
“I’ll do it.”
The only sign that Kenny was in pain were his deliberately slow movements. Whether that was in relation to the previous impalement or the new wound, I couldn’t tell. Taking a breath, I held it a moment before expelling it. What a crappy day this had been so far.
Glancing at the unused bullet clasped in my hand, I verified the pristine GM and DTP stamped on its head. No way to misread that. I slid the bullet into the pocket of my skirt, and after one last look at Kenny, went inside to search the other one.
Reynolds glanced at me as I knelt down by the body. But as soon as I started rifling through the pockets, he turned his attention back to the screens inside the hutch. Kenny came in just as I finished, a pair of handcuffs dangling from one finger. Opening my hand, I revealed the lighter in my palm.
“Think of the trouble we could get into with these,” he grinned wickedly.
“I’d rather not,” I chuckled and handed him the lighter.
“We’re not going to be able to do much here,” Reynolds said, frowning at the still black screens. “I can’t even turn them on.”
I stood up and joined Reynolds at the hutch. “I was hoping it ran on a separate power source.”
He reached a hand and clasped the back of his neck. “It can. Only the battery is so old that I can’t get it going. The ions are probably depleted. There’s one more thing I can try, but it’s even less likely to work.”
“No water, either,” Kenny said while repetitively working the faucets at the sink.
“I guess it’s official then. No clean-up for us.” I left Reynolds and began to walk the row of cabinets. Each door I opened revealed a bare cup board. “These cabinets are as empty as my stomach,” I griped. What kind of safe house was this? No food, no water or power, but fully stocked with lethal enemies. I closed the last door and turned to face Reynolds. “Do we at least know the time?”
Reynolds glanced at his watch then out the window to his left. “Roughly ten o’clock.”
“Why roughly?”
He held up his watch to show me the shattered face.
Great. Now I wished the barometer really had been a clock. “What time were we supposed to meet the president?”
“Ten to forty-five minutes ago?” he shrugged.
“That’s what I thought,” I mumbled. So much for a good first impression. You know, if our appearance didn’t preclude that already. Remembering the keys I found earlier, I pulled them out of my pocket. “I’m going to look for some wheels.”
Reynolds looked away from the hutch, worry clouding his features. “There could be others.”
“I got it,” Kenny said, gingerly sliding from the counter he’d claimed for a seat.
Like I needed a bodyguard. Hadn’t I just demonstrated that I could take care of myself? I mean, technically, I took out three of the guys by myself. True, I only killed one. The hand reaching for the door paused. I had killed again.
“Doc?” Kenny questioned, reaching around me to pull the door open.
Actually, we all had killed. Reynolds twice.
Realizing Kenny was staring at me, I smiled at him. “I’m fine.” It wasn’t a lie. I was fine. A little thrown by my actions, by the world of violence I now inhabited. But I would adjust. I had to. They weren’t leaving me any other choice.
Gripping the keys tightly, I crossed the porch and jogged down the steps. At the edge of what was loosely the yard sat what had to be a custom painted truck. I couldn’t be blamed for not spotting it earlier. It was like someone had photographed a picture of the woods and transferred it onto the truck. I pointed the key and pushed the unlock button. The alarm trumped in acknowledgement.
“Mission accomplished,” I remarked dryly. Now on to the juicier task of locating the gadget, gizmo, and all things too technical for Macy to understand hideaway. Returning the keys to my pocket, I ventured deeper onto the property surrounding the house. After making a complete circuit, I stood where I started. “Come on,” I complained softly at the lack of potential candidates.
“What are we looking for?” Kenny asked as he joined me. He’d been following from a respectable distance, close enough for me to know that he was there, but far enough away that it didn’t annoy.
“An old decrepit shed or outhouse. Any kind of structure that could house the wonder lab.”
He grunted in understanding.
“It has to be here,” I said, my eyes still raking the property for suspects. Spotting a large tree partially concealing a broken down tree fort, I started in that direction. “What do you think?” I asked Kenny as I stared up at it.
He looked at the tree house, and then back at the truck. “I think I’d rather take the truck.”
“Wimp,” I teased and leapt onto the branch supporting the structure. Upon closer inspection, my belief that this was my target waned a little. The tree house was in shambles. Pieces were literally falling off.
“This is what we’re looking for?” Kenny asked skeptically after he’d completed a more leisurely path to the branch opposite me.
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
“The door looks like it will fall off the hinges if you open it.”
“It does,” I nodded and reached to open it anyway. The hinges screamed in protest, but the door didn’t fall off. It didn’t reveal any secret hideaway, either.
“This looks even worse,” Kenny grumbled, pressing against me to get a better look inside.
I didn’t disagree. The floor was covered in dust and leaves, like it had seen a hundred seasons of summer and winter. I lightly ran a hand through the accumulation. Bits of the floor broke free and crumbled into the litter.
Kenny leaned past me and thumped the floor with his fist. The tree house reverberated ominously. As his hand retreated, he pulled his face to one side. “Let me guess, we’re going in anyway.”
“Yep,” I nodded and crab walked across the threshold. The moan the tree house uttered was almost comical.
“Oh yeah, this is going to end well,” Kenny muttered.
Hoping that was true despite the sentiment motivating the comment, I took another step, then another, until I made it all the way across. Kenny waited until I stopped moving, then stuck to the periphery as he slunk in after me.
“This doesn’t resemble the bunker at Granny’s house at all,” he complained.
“That’s because this isn’t a bunker. It’s the cover for it.” At least, that was the assumption I was operating under.
“What are y’all doing?” Reynolds asked, poking only his head through the door.
“Me and that ray of sunshine over there,” I said, looking pointedly at Kenny, “are looking for a secret hidey hole.”
Reynolds’ gaze swept the interior, his face contorting into a mixture of surprise and confusion. “Oh,” he whispered.
“What?” Kenny and I said together.
“I might know this one.” Eyeing the floor warily, he crouched down and crept forward. The floorboards strongly objected to the added weight, cracking loudly when he was only a few feet in.
“I think it’s time to scrap the tree house,” Kenny recommended.
“Let’s hope that’s after we’re not in it,” Reynolds said. “Macy, we need to trade places.”
Slowly, I began to retrace my steps.
“Does anyone else feel like we’re swaying?” Kenny asked nervously.
I paused and focused on the horizon beyond the tree. We were swaying a little. “It’s just the wind. We’ll be fine.”
