Paired Pursuit (18 page)

An hour later, the four of them had hacked the protective boards off all the windows, flooding the old house with light. That was enough to tucker out the Twins, and Mari and Patrice kept watch while the men slept. After a three hour nap, they were up again, as fresh as if they'd slept for eight. Finn's broken arm had much improved, although he kept it in its splint, since it was still tender and could easily re-break.

“I envy them,” Patrice said as the men sawed a hole in the roof to render the attic useless to Barks. “Though they do eat like horses.”

Mari laughed. “They deserve to.”

“That's true enough.” Patrice sighed. “I always used to worry about Abigail not getting enough to eat.”

“Is she okay?” Mari hadn't wanted to pry. Since Patrice had brought up the subject herself, though, she figured she might as well ask.

“Well, the letter was innocuous. Too innocuous, I'd say. There was too much chatter about mundane stuff, not enough about who she was with and why she was writing. Don't know why she'd send a letter like that.”

“You mind if we take a look?” Finn rounded the corner. “Sorry, didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it's kind of hard for us to not overhear.”

“Be my guest.” Patrice pulled out a folded-up piece of paper. “What, you think she wrote in code or something?”

Finn scanned it, frowned. “Yep. Hold on. Right here… It's not too hard to crack. I think you would have eventually worked it out. The first and last letters of some of the words are different, so…”

Patrice snatched the paper. “Oh God. ‘Gran, being held at the Shadow Fed HQ. Will try to get out. If can't, all my love.' What's HQ?”

“Headquarters. The Shadow Feds are holed up in former Washington, DC.” Finn's voice was neutral, but Mari could tell he was worried. Remembering Hobart, the self-styled reporter, she tended to agree with his view.

Patrice banged her fists on the armrests of her chair. “What do they want with my granddaughter?”

“Could be as simple as using her as an indentured servant. Or maybe she has some information they want, and they're keeping her until she coughs it up.”

“Why didn't Gina tell me this?” Patrice demanded. “Damn. I'll need to go there, try to get her out. When is our transport coming?”

“We haven't yet been notified.” Gareth spoke up. Due to his close telepathic link with his Twin, there was no need to explain what had just happened. He clearly knew, from the somber expression on his face. “There are Twins running a mission near DC next week. I can tell them to keep an eye out for Abigail, if you'll give me a description.”

“Realistically, that's the best I can hope for, isn't it?” Patrice scowled down at her body. “If I were twenty years younger, even ten…oh, Abigail. Give me a little while, I need to lie down on my bed.”

At a loss for what to do, Mari packed her things, sorting them ruthlessly into piles of decreasing priority until she was down to one suitcase and a backpack. She placed her father's trunk with its hidden compartment in the living room. Even if she could take it, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

The devices were linked together now, and none of them knew what implications that held for the world.

* * * * *

By mid-afternoon, Mari was starting to get nervous. Mainly that was because the Twins themselves were nervous, with Finn constantly checking his commtab and Gareth pacing the house. He'd gone out several times to check on the City, and Mari insisted upon coming with him, because she was about to go crazy being cooped up in Patrice's now very drafty living room.

There was nobody on the wall. It had been stripped of weapons, and alien corpses still littered the ground. The gates were wide open, and as they watched, a caravan of soldiers rolled out in an armored truck. Although they were leaving late, the truck was sturdy enough to withstand a small attack of Barks. If they drove fast enough, they could get out of the area by nightfall and find somewhere secluded to park.

All the streets were quiet, with no junkies hanging out on the corner. Gareth frowned. “Wish the National Guard had been able to come clear this place out. I hate to think of some drug-addled person thinking they'll be able to hole up somewhere and hide from the aliens. Won't happen, they'll sniff 'em out eventually. If not tonight, tomorrow night.”

“It seems quiet,” Mari said. Too quiet. It was eerie walking in a deserted City.

Yet when they reached the train station, everything was chaos. A guard stopped them at the entrance. “There's no places left on this or the next train—you're going to have to wait.”

Mari followed his pointing finger and gaped at the line of refugees that stretched from the train platform along the fence. “All these people still need to be evacuated?”

“Yes, and we're tight on time. We only got about half the population evacuated. Next train's due in soon, and I hope to hell it's got a full complement of carriages. We need all the space we can get.”

Panic blossomed in her stomach. There were so many people here, and the walls had fallen. Civilians outnumbered soldiers at least ten to one, ranging from the elderly to families clutching young children. The sun was already heading toward the horizon.

“How many trains are due to come?” Gareth fixed the guard with an unblinking green stare.

“Four. There's going to be standing room only, but if they hurry up we can start shifting people out of this cursed unsafe City.” The man cast an anxious look in the direction of the fallen wall. “We've set up a locker system where people can safely leave their bulkier stuff. The priority now is people over belongings.”

“Will four trains be enough?”

The guard shifted, his booted feet scraping against concrete. “Keep your voice down. No, if more people come along, four is going to be pushing it. But you let that information out, and people will start fighting each other to get on the next train, and things are going to get ugly.”

“My lips are sealed. Anything I can do?”

“From what I hear, you did enough last night. Getting everyone down and then holding the gap was what saved this City. I guess if you have any sway with the government, you could try to make sure none of the women get caught up in those goddamn breeder-wife trafficking schemes.”

The hoot of an incoming train propelled the guard away from them. He strode toward the platform, calling out orders as people rose wearily to their feet, holding belongings, children, and pets as they watched the train pull through the open double gates.

“That man deserves a commendation. If I ever bothered to deal with the higher-ups, I'd recommend it.” Gareth paused, then snorted. “Finn says he'll do it for me. I think he's finally realized he's got a bone to pick with the authorities.”

Still flirting with the edges of panic, Mari managed to nod. She tried to let the solidness of the man next to her anchor her down, keep her from being carried away with this overwhelming fear. Deep breaths weren't cutting it—she was beginning to tremble, her legs growing weak.

The walls are down
.
There's nothing between us and the Barks
.
They'll eat us just like they ate Carter
. Mari clenched her teeth. She wanted to run to the train, push ahead of everyone else and curl up, shaking, in a corner.

Anything to prevent being left here in this defenseless City.

“Hey. Hey, Mari.”

Gareth's hands were on her shoulders. He was shaking her slightly, but she couldn't seem to focus.

“Mari! Breathe!” He shook her harder, and the world came rushing back. The station, with all its sounds, colors and smells seemed suddenly like an alien world, as if the Barks well and truly owned Earth now. She slanted a look sideways, embarrassed to find a few curious people staring at her.

“C'mon.” Gareth led her away from the station—away from the train out of here!—and his grip was inexorable when she faltered. “Mari. Now. I need you to stay with me.”

“I can't,” she protested. “Need to get out of here, out of this City.”

“I know. But we're not going on the trains. There's not enough room, not enough time. Dr. Felton said—” Gareth cut himself off midsentence. “Fucking Dr. Felton.”

Startled enough to glance up at him, Mari recognized the intense look in Gareth's eyes—he was communicating with his brother. She breathed deeply, evenly, concentrating on the air going in and out of her body.

“Goddammit!”

Her breath faltered, recovered. On the outbreath, she whispered, “What's wrong?”

“He never put through the request for a cargo plane! He lied about it. Nobody bothered to actually check until now.”

When he began to run, she ran along with him, glad of something physical to do to soften the impact of adrenaline coursing through her body. Through all the sensations battering at her, she felt Gareth's keen fury, his bitterness at being betrayed. So Dr. Felton hadn't ordered a plane? Nobody was coming to save them?

“He wanted us to die!” Gareth roared as they entered Patrice's house. “The little weaselly asshole didn't bother to push through our personal evac order!”

“Yeah, it looks that way.” Finn kept his cool, tugging Mari into his lap as she walked near. She'd been planning to go lie in bed, hiding from the world, but Finn didn't let her, holding her firmly as she squirmed atop his muscular thighs.

“Is there a way you can get even with him?” Patrice held her shotgun in her lap, and the question was a serious one.

It also seemed to calm Gareth right down. “I don't want to get even with just
him
. I want fair treatment. I want them to stop treating us like some sort of combination of manservant and lethal weapon.”

“Which means a minor revolution,” Finn said. “I'm going to make a few calls to other Twins. No, stay here, Mari. You're shaking.”

“I'll make a cup of tea,” Patrice said, and set down her gun.

A quarter of an hour later, Mari sipped tea and leaned against Finn's solid chest, listening to the rumble of his voice as he called Twin after Twin. The hell of panic attacks was compounded by the fact that other people couldn't always comfort her. In fact, the Twins were the only ones who'd ever been able to touch her when she was in the throes of one. She remembered sitting outside the walls of Flagstaff City, shaking and nearly vomiting with the stress of going outside. She couldn't stand being touched, couldn't do anything but walk back into the shipping container she shared with her father and lie in bed until it passed.

After that, she hadn't gone outside until she had to leave for Scar City.

Finn rubbed a lazy circle on her back, discussing planes, times and scientists with whoever he was talking to. After a few more minutes, he hung up and tucked his commtab back into his belt.

“They've scrambled a cargo plane. Looks like Dr. Felton led people into thinking he'd sent a plane, then nixed the order at the last minute. He's left the Complex, and some of us think he's defected to the Shadow Feds after deliberately sabotaging stuff.”

“Like our evacuation,” Gareth snarled. “When's the plane getting in?”

“At the last minute. We're going to need to be on the airstrip ready to load in, because the sun will be teetering right on the edge of disappearing.”

“Great.” Gareth stopped pacing. “Okay. I'm going to the airstrip. The soldiers left some equipment behind, so I'll see what I can do about setting up a few last-ditch defenses.”

“I'll go prepare dinner,” Patrice said. “We'll want it on the plane.”

That left Finn and Mari alone in the living room. He rose with his good arm around her shoulders and began to guide her up the stairs. “I think we ought to have a shower before we leave,” he suggested.

“A shower?”

“There's still hot water. Besides, we might be the last people taking a shower in the entire City. Our names will go down in history.”

She couldn't help but smile. Then she gasped as he set her on the bed and started to undress her. “I can do that myself.”

“Yeah, but I prefer it this way.” He undid buttons with consummate care, lifting her thighs to ease her pants and underwear down. Now and then he paused to caress her, press a kiss against bare skin until she was shivering with need rather than nerves. How did he know how badly she needed to be distracted? Grateful for his presence, she reached a finger out to touch his splint.

“How's your arm?” she asked. The fingers moved just fine, but she was still concerned.

“Better every hour. Clean break, nothing serious. Right now it feels like nothing worse than a sprain.”

When she was naked, he stripped himself, revealing his body in all its glory, his not-quite-human perfect muscles and his smooth, dark golden skin.

“In we go.” He pressed against her in the shower as warm water cascaded down onto them.

“Won't Gareth mind?” she asked.

“He'll have one hell of a hard-on, but no. He knows I can't do anything else until the plane comes, and he'd rather I enjoy myself than overthink things and continue to bug him. Besides, I think you need the distraction. Am I right, Mari?”

She nodded. “And so does Gareth.”

His eyes warmed. “You're right. He's pissed off enough to cause trouble, especially if someone tries to cross him. But he'll feel what we're doing, and that'll tone him down some.”

When Finn went to his knees, she squeaked in surprise. The shower had a shallow ledge, and she wound up atop it, legs spread. Her hands sifted through his wet black hair as he bent between her knees, his hot mouth suckling between her thighs. She was glad of the plastic wall at her back as she arched against it, throwing her head back as pleasure sliced deep.

The man was a demon with his tongue, licking relentlessly, ruthlessly until all the world narrowed down to the shower cubicle, to the hot water cascading down upon them both as she came. When she was done, he washed her clean, then turned her so that she was leaning against the wall, her buttocks curving against his thighs.