The Felix Chronicles: Freshmen (68 page)

The woman had stopped in the juice section of the beverages aisle. She was tall with broad shoulders and long slender arms. Felix watched as she took a small container of orange juice from a refrigerator and held it up to her face like she was skeptical of the expiration date. She lifted her chin, her eyes flitting up to the security mirror.

Felix glanced away just in time and began feverishly studying a bag of Fritos corn chips on the shelf in front of him, resisting an overwhelming urge to look up at the mirror. The scar looked similar to one he’d seen before. But the woman who bore it, the woman at Martha’s house, had long red hair. Of course you can cut hair. And dye it. He needed to get a better look at the scar to be sure, to dispel any doubts. His heart beating fast, he sucked in a deep breath and raised his eyes to the mirror.

She was gone.

Felix was stunned into stillness, but only for a moment. He grabbed a snack-sized bag of barbecue chips and headed for the beverages aisle, treading cautiously while still trying to act like he was just loading up on junk food for a road trip. When he reached the aisle, he turned, pulling up for an instant in surprise.

He wasn’t alone.

Near the far end of the aisle, a man and a woman, deep in conversation, were at the self-serve coffee bar. Both were well-dressed, tall and solidly built. Felix could see the man’s face, but the woman’s back was turned to him. He tried to listen to their conversation, but the refrigerators were emitting a low humming sound and some kids a few aisles over were arguing about something and making a terrible racket; all he caught was one word: “sugar.” The man filled a paper cup with coffee, then lifted his eyes to peek over the woman’s shoulder.

Felix turned his head before the man’s eyes could lock on his. He kept walking and glanced up at the security mirror behind them. He located the woman with the scar; she was in the aisle he’d just vacated—the snacks aisle—and a man with dusty brown skin and midnight-black hair had joined her. Felix gasped inwardly. Even from the slightly distorted image in the oval mirror, he could tell that the man was put together like a tank.

He swallowed hard, a trickle of warm sweat slaloming down his back. He tucked the chips under the same arm that held the peanuts, and without looking, fumbled around for two bottles of water. Using his foot to close the refrigerator door, he started toward the registers, passing by the coffee bar, getting as close as he could to the couple without alerting them that he was trying to listen in on their conversation.

But they’d gone quiet. The man was staring stupidly into his cup and the woman seemed to be under the spell of a packet of artificial sweetener she was holding in her fingers. Then from her lips came the word “sugar.” She said it quite clearly, and not in response to anything the man had said to her.

What is that, some kind of code word?
Felix wondered as his eyes flickered down the snacks aisle. The man with the black hair was on the move, approaching the back of the store. The woman was still there, studying the list of ingredients on a Snickers bar like it included the meaning of life. This time, Felix got a good look at the right side of her face. There was no doubt about it. His pulse quickened.

The scar was the same.

He walked faster, but not so fast as to draw attention to himself. Allison was right where he’d left her. “Hey!” he whispered over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, holding out an issue of
Us Weekly
in front of her. “Got my water?”

“
Allie
,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Can you believe this?” She kept her eyes on the magazine. “It’s an article about Dirk Rathman. It says that since his little press conference, the ERA’s gotten five hundred thousand new members. Most are high school and college kids and twenty-somethings. They’re saying some parents are pissed because of the tiger tattoo thing, but the ERA’s relaxing its rules. So now kids can get the fake ones and—”

“Allison!” He nudged her with his elbow.

“What?” She twisted her neck to look at him, annoyed at the unprovoked jostling.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me,” he said without moving his lips. “Keep reading.”

“Okay,” she said warily, dropping her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Remember those people at Martha’s?” He looked up at the security mirror behind the registers. The two people at the coffee bar hadn’t moved and the woman with the scar was in the same aisle, but now she was idling toward the chips section. He couldn’t find the shorter man. He’d disappeared.

Allison nodded hesitantly. Her shoulders tensed up.

“They’re here.”

“Here?”
she said, her eyes shifting, apprehension creeping into her voice.

“Yes. Here. As in, here in this store.” Felix checked the mirror again.

“Okay.” She bit down on her lip for a moment. “What do you want me to do?”

“Just be cool,” he whispered. “Just give me that and keep your eyes on me. Don’t look around. I’m watching them.”

Allison handed him the magazine and they stepped over to the closest register. A sullen, pimply-faced high schooler bagged the items and Felix paid in cash.

“Let’s go,” he said, taking the plastic bag from the clerk.

The automatic doors
whooshed
open as Felix led Allison out of the store past an entry sidewalk littered with gum wrappers and peanut husks. They swiftly made their way through the parking lot to the Range Rover.

“How many?” Allison asked as soon as they climbed into the car.

“Four. I think.” He stared at the entrance, squinting into the morning sunlight reflecting brightly off the glass store front. “Two men and two women. I’m not sure about the two getting coffee. They were acting weird. Kept saying ‘
sugar
’. They definitely aren’t locals. I guess they could be tourists. Maybe from Europe or something; their clothes are a little tight. The other two were at Martha’s.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. The woman with the red hair’s in there, the one with the scar on her face. She’s blonde now, but it’s definitely her. The guy with the black hair is in there too. The last time I saw him, he was trying to gut me.” Reflexively, his hand went to his chest.

“What are we gonna do?”

“Sit here until they leave.”

“To see if they’re all together?” she asked a short pause later, her brow creasing.

He nodded. He had to know how many were after him.

They didn’t have to wait long. All four emerged from the store at the same time like a scene from a movie: Dark clothes, hard expressions, unhurried movements so graceful a soundtrack must have been playing in the background as they crossed the lot and slipped silently into a black Mercedes SUV parked at an adjacent Exxon.

“I guess you have your answer.” Allison watched them through the windshield.

“Yeah. I guess I do.” She was right. Question answered. There were four. Now what?

“Who do they think they are anyway, the Cullens?” A smile played on the edges of Allison’s lips.

Felix snickered.

“Sorry.” Allison laughed. “I think I’m spending too much time with Lucas.” Her expression turned suddenly serious. “They’re Protectors, aren’t they?”

Protectors.

The word alone caused Felix to shudder as though the marrow in his bones was frosting over, chilling him to the core.

He nodded.

“What’s your plan?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh.”

“How about we just get the hell outta here?” Felix pushed the ignition button and shifted into drive, wheeling out of the parking lot and onto Main Street.

“Are they following us?” Allison asked a moment later.

Felix checked the rearview mirror just as a black Mercedes sped out of the gas station. “Yeah. They’re comin’ up behind us.”

Felix was driving fast and recklessly, nearly brushing the bumper of a white Subaru station wagon with a back window half covered in family stickers—a mom, a dad, two boys, four girls, two dogs, three cats and something that could have been a bird or a hamster. Main Street was a two-lane road—one on each side—and the double yellow stripes down the center were an unambiguous indication that the local cops frowned upon passing. Felix saw an opening and gunned it. The SUV accelerated past the Subaru like a rocket, hurling them against their seats. They made it with room to spare, but a man driving a gray minivan in the oncoming lane gave him the finger. So did the driver of the Subaru, a middle-aged woman, most likely the mom in the sticker family.

“You know we can’t go to the police,” Allison said, turning to look behind them.

“No shit. I wasn’t going to. I just didn’t… I don’t… I don’t know where…
shit!
I told you I don’t have a plan.” He didn’t know where he was going; he was just driving, trying to put as much space between themselves and the Protectors as possible.

“They’re just going to keep coming after you, you know. They tried to kill you before. Now they’re back. You can’t keep running.”

He glanced over at her. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Allison bit her lip in thought for a moment before answering. “Let’s make a stand.” Her voice was strong, flowing with confidence. “Let’s fight.”

“
Really?”
Felix said, startled. “They’ll try to
kill
us. These people aren’t screwing around. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself. And I have you.” She smiled at him. “I know you’d never let anything happen to me.”

He was breathing a little faster now. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” His palms were sweating. He gripped the leather cover on the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching his hands. He checked the mirror. The black Mercedes was two cars back and trying to pass the car in front of it. This didn’t seem real. It was like a car chase on TV, something he should be watching in the comfort of Downey’s common room; something Vin Diesel should be doing, not him.

“There’s four of ‘em,” Felix said, talking for his own benefit more than Allison’s. “These aren’t regular people. The Protectors are assassins. They kill Sourcerors. That’s all they do. That’s what they’re trained to do. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can do it,” she said earnestly, watching him. “It’s time to let these assholes know that if they’re going to mess with you they better bring a goddamn army.” There was steel in her voice.

Felix could almost feel Allison’s energy, her resolve. Goose bumps bristled up and down his arms. He thought he might try to run through a brick wall if she pointed him in the right direction. And he couldn’t help but think that maybe she was right; he couldn’t run forever, after all.

“Well,” Felix began, “we… we need to go somewhere, somewhere that’s not out in the open. We can’t let them surround us.”

“I agree. So what’s the plan?”

Felix wracked his brain, trying to come up with something. Then it hit him—from where, he had no idea.

“I got it!” He slapped the wheel. “Cliff Walk.”

“
Cliff Walk?
” Allison said. “Isn’t that place closed?”

“Yeah. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I have an idea.”

The Range Rover wheeled around the bend. Up ahead, two wooden roadblocks, each painted with alternating red and white diagonal stripes, blocked the road. There was no way around them. Felix floored it. Just when the words CLIFF WALK—CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC came into view, the SUV barreled through the blockade, leaving behind a trail of kindling.

“That’s gonna leave a mark.” Felix glanced up at the rearview mirror. “This is a sweet car, too. Probably ran Bill at least a hundred thousand.”

“A hundred thousand
dollars
?” Allison looked out the back window. “You sure he’s just a groundskeeper?”

He shrugged.

“I haven’t seen them since the last turn.” She sounded worried. “We didn’t lose them, did we?”

“They’re coming.” He was sure of that. He glanced down at the speedometer. They were doing sixty-two. When they’d turned onto Cliff Walk Road a mile back, he’d noticed a pair of signs cautioning drivers to keep their speed under fifteen.

Felix sped the car around a tight corner, the tires hugging the road. He let off the gas until they were through the turn, then he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The dense, unbroken woods edging the road were a brown-green blur. “Should be almost there.”

“I’ve only been here once.” Allison checked behind them again. “I think it was the year they closed it. When was that? Like our freshman year of high school?”

“Sophomore year,” Felix said. He stared ahead, trying to concentrate, only vaguely remembering the road. He hadn’t been here in years.

The Cliff Walk—just a few miles north of Cove Rock—was a mile-long path along the edge of a 700-foot sheer cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Before the earthquake, a thick plexiglass barrier had prevented careless tourists from getting too close to the edge of one of the highest sea cliffs in the world. But now the barrier, along with large sections of the walkway, was under water, having fallen into the ocean during the cataclysmic natural disaster that had caused fires and flooding from Canada to Mexico.

Felix tapped the brakes and veered sharply into an empty parking lot. The tires screeched as he stomped on the accelerator, steering the car toward a small clapboard structure at the west end of the lot. It came up on them in a hurry. He slammed on the brakes a little too late: The car skidded to a stop, but not before it bumped into a faded sign warning visitors not to stray from the designated walkway.

Felix exhaled sharply.

They couldn’t have announced their presence at the park more conspicuously; anyone coming into the lot couldn’t possibly miss Bill’s Range Rover.
Okay
, he thought.
So far so good.
He opened his door and shouted “Let’s go!” but it wasn’t necessary—Allison’s door was slamming shut before he could get the words out. They spilled out of the car and raced across the beaten blacktop toward the tottering little building that up close looked like a converted storage shed. A sign above a window blocked up with a sheet of particle board read TICKET KIOSK.