Tremor (11 page)

They had all three gotten into the HumGee and moved it down an old forest service road another two miles into the woods. One of the advantages of having a rig that floated an inch or two off the ground: no tracks to follow. It was cleaner than walking, left no trace. A broad, overgrown trail led them to a narrow clearing, where they pulled in tight against the trees and re-covered the rig. With the journey behind them and the chameleon cover in place, the team was nearly untraceable.

That was when Faith had requested a post outside, farther down from where they'd been, so she could bird-dog any approaching walkers or fliers. Clooger had said no, but, looking back, his star athlete was already heading the other way. Now she was down the mountain somewhere, hiding out in a tree, probably contemplating the use of her pulse.

“She's not going to answer,” Hawk said. “Too risky. If someone's nearby, she'll keep quiet.”

He and Clooger had slid past an opening in the cover and gotten into the HumGee. The only thing that could possibly give them away was if someone stood on top of the chameleon cover and discovered there was a vehicle underneath. Hawk detected the slight odor of skunk in the tight quarters and wished he could get out and breathe some fresh mountain air.

“We should be ready for this to go seriously sideways,” Clooger said.

“Pear shaped,” Hawk said, nodding as he squinted one eye. “I get you.”

“If they find Faith out there, the whole Andre army is coming down on us.”

“And Dylan is screwed,” Hawk added.

Clooger nodded. “Yeah. And Dylan is screwed.”

“If they've sent single pulses in, she could fly out. They won't be able to tell her pulse from their own, not with the system they have in place.”

Clooger wasn't so sure; it felt risky.

“We give her an inch, and she'll take a mile. The last thing we need is someone getting killed out there.”

If they could have seen where Faith was—more than a mile down the forest service road and off into the trees—they would have been even more anxious. She'd come down from one tree and started walking toward another when she felt a pulse nearby. It was subtle—a tiny tremor under her skin—but it was there. She couldn't say how close for sure, but the feeling scared her. If she flew up into the nearest tree, there was a chance that whoever was out looking for them would feel it, so she'd made due with her limited climbing skills and found cover quickly. Her long arms and legs had helped in the effort; but all the same, she was only ten feet up in the branches when she heard movement in the trees about twenty yards to her right. A few seconds later she heard a similar sound, like someone landing on the ground, behind her.

They've found me
.

Faith looked up and thought about going for it, just pulsing into the sky and moving fast enough that they couldn't see her. Maybe they'd think it was one of their own search party. If she could get inside the HumGee, she'd be safely hidden. The problem was her position. Branches seemed to be everywhere, and any kind of flying escape wasn't going to be possible without making some noise. The closer these two got, the tougher it was going to be.

She decided to wait, even though her heart was racing as she strained to hear the slightest sound. She heard the caw of two crows overhead but otherwise nothing. If someone was searching for an intruder, the window for escaping on foot was narrowing with every second she waited. Faith crept down as quietly as she could, dropped to the ground, and began running.

Wade sensed movement. He was particularly gifted at tuning his mind in to the world around him, and he was nearly sure this was the general location where the second pulse he'd felt had come from. He turned in the direction of the sound and started moving, floating just above the ground. He saw someone dart between two tall firs in the distance and took chase, flying low and deflecting sagging branches as he went. He picked up speed and rounded the wide trunk of a tree, turning sharply. It was a blind corner, and coming to the other side, something or someone shoved him hard to the left. He tumbled wildly, crashed into a tree, and stood up.

“What the hell?” he said, standing and brushing himself off. He felt someone land behind him, felt the pulse in his bones.

“Whoever you are, you'd better run,” he said.

“You're hopeless.”

Wade wheeled around and saw Clara leaning against a tree, looking about as smug as he'd ever seen her.

“Cavalry's here,” she said.

Wade wanted to pick her up and throw her at the prison.

“I don't need your help. Go back home,” he said, already assuming a position to leap up in the air and leave her behind.

“For starters, that block of rock down there isn't home. I think we both know that. And second, Andre said you asked for help, so here I am.”

“Didn't ask, don't need,” he said. “Get lost.”

“Wait—you didn't call for help?” Clara asked. She leaned away from the tree, took a step toward her brother.

“Hell no. Why would I need help searching a forest for signs of life?”

“Because it's a big space and you're one guy?” Clara mocked, but she was also processing the way Intels do:
Why did Andre send me out here? Why does Wade want me to leave?

“You're hoping she's out here, aren't you?” Clara asked. “You're imagining that if Dylan is down there, then she must be up here. You're even more pathetic than I thought.”

“I said get lost,” Wade warned. “There's a whole lot of trouble out here for both of us. You want a fight, I'll give you a real fight.”

He was referring to all the trees. The prison wasn't safe for Wade and Clara just because it was isolated and secure; it was also devoid of nature. Their second-pulse weakness, the thing that could get them into real danger, was nature itself. Roots, trees, ivy, plants—these were the things that could weaken them, even kill them if they came in violent contact with too much.

“Are you challenging me to a brawl?” Clara asked. She would have loved nothing more than to uproot a tree and hit her brother across the face with it.

“I'm going to say this one more time,” Wade said. He was starting to feel the rage coming. If this went on for much longer, he'd go ballistic. “Get lost. I don't need your help.”

Clara knew the tone of voice. Her brother was close to blowing his stack, and when that happened, all bets were off. It was a fight she might lose, and that was unacceptable. And what was Andre doing sending her out here in the first place? The Quinn clan was acting even weirder than normal.

“Good luck finding your girl,” she said, smiling derisively. “And if by some miracle that actually happens, make sure she stays away from Dylan. Unless you want her dead.”

Faith was hiding nearby, her bare arms touching the rough bark of the tree she leaned against. She'd heard the entire exchange and had a few thoughts of her own. It took all her willpower not to go after Clara and show her just how powerful Faith Daniels really was. She could beat Clara out here; she was sure of it. She'd put her chiseled face in the dirt, pin her under the branches of a tree, wrap a length of ivy around her sorry neck.

“Faith, I know you can hear me,” Clooger said as he pressed into the sound ring. “If you're thinking about getting into some kind of confrontation, don't. Dylan's in there. He'll have a hell of a time getting out if you go bat shit right now. It's not time yet. Just stay calm, stay hidden, get here as fast as you can. And don't pulse.”

Hawk looked at his partner's bald head, then at the look of concern on his face.

“You think she'll listen?” Hawk wondered.

Neither of them knew it was Wade and Clara out there. If they had known, the only sane course of action would have been to run.

“Who knows. Maybe.”

“She's a little unpredictable, this girl,” Hawk observed. “But she's no fool. And she's not going to put us in danger unless she has to. Take it easy, big guy.”

For her part, Faith didn't need the distraction of voices in her head unless one of them was Dylan. She wished he'd send word that the undercover plan—of which Faith had never been supportive—had failed. She wished he was calling for her to come on in: “Let's finish these bastards off right here, right now.”

It was while she was thinking that precise thought that she heard a voice.

“You might as well come out. I know you're there.”

Damn,
Faith thought. Wade Quinn knew. He knew someone was hiding nearby, someone with a pulse. She could fly away, but what would that solve? She'd gone and blown their cover, and not with just anyone, with Wade.

This is bad.

She took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree, hoping the plan they had in place for just such an event would work.

“Faith?” Wade asked. He couldn't believe his eyes and for an instant thought she might be a ghost or an aberration of his own mind. Could it really be Faith Daniels, all the way up here in the middle of nowhere?

He was also, despite whatever he was supposed to feel, happy to see her. The fight they'd had at Old Park Hill so many months ago swept across his mind. He'd thought, rightly so, that she might be dead. He hadn't been the one to throw the object that slammed into the back of Faith's head, but he'd seen it fly. He'd known it had hit its mark by the way Clara reacted. She knew when her aim was true.

“I know this looks bad,” Faith stammered. “But let me explain.”

Wade put up a hand and walked toward her, halving the space between them.

“I'm just glad you're okay. I thought maybe, after that mess Dylan got you mixed up in back at Old Park Hill—I thought you might have been really hurt.”

“I was,” Faith said, feeling a little more thankful for Wade's concern than seemed like a good idea. He was every bit the tall, striking person he'd been at Old Park Hill. If anything, he was even more attractive since the last time they'd seen each other. He was more muscular in the shoulders and arms, his face more chiseled despite a soft hue of three days without shaving. She had to admit she'd missed seeing him, not precisely because she liked him, more for the simple pleasure of gazing at a damn good-looking boy. “I didn't wake up for a while.”

“How long?” He kept inching closer, which was making Faith nervous. If he tried to kill her, she'd have to reveal her second pulse; and that really wasn't an option at this stage of the game.

“About two weeks, I guess. That's what they tell me. I don't remember exactly.”

“Well, I'm sorry,” Wade said, clenching his jaw. He ran a hand through his blond hair, looked off into the woods with those sky-blue eyes. “He should never have brought you into this. It's not your problem.”

“Well, it is now. I guess,” Faith said. Stepping closer, trying to stay calm. “I owe him my life. Clara could have finished me off, but he protected me. It's why I followed him out here.”

“Followed him from where?” Wade asked, the calculating, competitive part of his personality escaping for a moment. “No, wait—don't answer that. I don't need to know. In fact, it's probably better I don't know.”

Wade was close enough to touch Faith if he'd wanted to, and for the first time, he seemed genuinely vulnerable and confused.

“Why did he come here, Faith? Why did
you
come here?”

She hesitated, thought again about flying away, and then put out the bait she'd been told to if this situation came to pass.

“He left all upset about something I'm not supposed to even know about. It's serious, also weird.”

“Weird how?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Faith wavered. It was Meredith's idea to tell Wade about Andre and Dylan, not Faith's. In her opinion, if telling Wade was an option, it presented the best of all circumstances.

“Is he okay? Can you at least tell me that?”

“He's a second pulse. It's not like anyone in there can end him without a mountain of effort. Dylan can handle himself just fine. You need to stop worrying about him.”

Wade couldn't stand the idea that Faith might still be with Dylan. It made him want to knock down some trees. This was exactly what Meredith had wanted—
distractions
.

“You can't tell him I told you,” Faith said pleadingly. “And you can't tell anyone else. He wants to handle this his own way.”

“Whatever it is, it's not going to matter. You shouldn't be wrapped up in any of this. It's not your responsibility. I'll make sure he's fine, I promise.”

It was possibly the biggest lie Wade had ever told, since he was dead set on killing Dylan himself the first chance he got. But he was starting to imagine a life after whatever tasks they had to complete were over, and Faith represented something normal and attractive to him. She was tall and pretty, headstrong, smart. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her during all those long nights trapped in the prison, training for something he didn't fully understand.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Faith said. “It was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn't,” Wade said. “I'm glad you're here.”

He wanted to reach out to her, touch her soft skin, pick her up and fly somewhere no one could find them.

“You're not going to believe it, but I think it's true,” Faith said, drawing out the end like a long thread from a spool. “Meredith told Dylan who his dad is.”

“And this is important why?” Wade asked. He wished he could turn off the sarcasm in his voice, but it crept out just the same.

Faith hated it when he used that tone, always had. Go ahead, hit him with the hammer. He deserves it.

“Andre is Dylan's dad. For real.”

Wade threw back his head and laughed out loud, because he was sure this was some kind of joke and she was about to get to the real information she was holding back. But looking at Faith, he knew at least one thing: she definitely
thought
it was true.