Sick (6 page)

“I didn’t start that fire,” he said.

“I told you. I don’t want to know.”

She shut him in.

• • •

For the first hour, he was sure they would be stopped at a roadblock and the car inspected. But as the road kept passing a few feet beneath him, he began to think they might have made it away undetected. Eventually, he dozed off.

When he woke again, he could hear other vehicles surrounding them—semi-trucks mostly, cruising at high speeds. He figured they must be on an interstate. Which one, he had no idea. Having just recently been transferred to the Barker Flats Research Center, he didn’t know this part of the country that well and had no clue which highways were within a few hours’ drive away.

Both he and Ellen had grown up in the Midwest—Ash in Ohio and his wife in Indiana. They’d met at college where he was going through ROTC training and working on an engineering degree, and she was studying to be an accountant.

For him, at least, it was one of those instant attraction kind of things. Ellen had always said it was the same for her, too, but he was never sure if she was joking with him or not. Their bond grew infinitely deeper after her father passed away from a heart attack while they were sophomores. Her mother was already gone—cancer. Several years earlier, Ash’s parents had also passed away. No diseases in his family, just bad timing with a tire blowout at seventy miles per hour. His brother was with them, too. Jeff didn't die but, well, the condition he was left in often made Ash wonder if it would have been better if he had.

The fact was, Ash and Ellen really only had each other after that. They were married their senior year, and Josie was born exactly ten months later.

And now here he was alone again, his whole family gone.

He had no idea how long they’d been on the road when he felt the car ease to the right and slow down. Outside, the sounds of the other vehicles grew distant as the sedan came to a near stop, then accelerated again through a sharp right turn.

A couple minutes later, the car slowed once more and veered to the right. The now-familiar hum of tires on asphalt was replaced by the crunch of dirt under treads. Then the car stopped and the engine shut off.

Ash waited, anticipating that the woman would soon release him. A few moments later he heard the seat cushion being lifted above him, but as he waited for the hidden metal flap to open, nothing happened.

“Come on, come on,” he said under his breath.

He’d had enough of the secret compartment. It was small and cramped, and though he wasn’t claustrophobic, he was starting to sympathize with those who were. It didn't help that since they’d stopped moving, the air seemed to be growing stale, too. He wanted out, and he wanted out now.

He thought about pounding on the lid and screaming, “Open up!” But he had no idea where they were or who might overhear him.

He twisted, trying to get more comfortable. As he did, his shoulder brushed against the lid. There was a click as the metal roof of his box rose slightly in response to the pressure.

What the hell?

He placed his hand on it and pushed upward. A thin seam of light grew along the length of the lid. Though it couldn't have been more than a quarter-of-an-inch wide, it was blinding after hours of pitch darkness. He blinked several times, then squeezed his eyelids together so that only a fraction of the light could penetrate them. Again, he pushed on the lid. The crack of light grew an inch wider, then two, then three.

He paused, listening for anyone who might be in the car, and letting his eyes adjust to the daylight. Finally, having heard nothing, he pushed the top all the way open and sat up.

For some reason, he thought he was going to find that they were parked behind one of those giant truck stops, and that the woman had just gone to use the facilities or maybe even grab something to eat. But there was no truck stop. In fact, there were no buildings of any kind, just wilderness, broken only by the distant ribbon of the interstate about two miles away.

The car appeared to be parked in a small valley. While there were a few trees here and there, most of the vegetation was lower to the ground. It was what his dad used to call high chaparral country.

A deserted, two-lane road ran out from the highway in his direction, passing the large dirt lot his ride was parked in and heading off into the hills. Apparently the woman had turned off on one of those exits only a handful of locals would use.

The most surprising thing, though, was that she was nowhere to be seen. Where she’d gone, he had no idea. But unless she was crouching right next to the car, he was entirely alone.

He pushed himself out of the box, threw open one of the doors and climbed outside. The air was cool, almost brisk. He reached back in and retrieved the jacket his guide had given him. He was tempted to pull on the stocking cap and gloves, but instead he just stomped around a little to warm up. Then, after a moment of unnecessary self-consciousness, he relieved himself behind the car.

Not knowing what he was supposed to do now, he decided to see if the woman had left the keys. Maybe the idea all along had been for him to take the sedan and get lost. Maybe that’s what this had been all about. They got him away from trouble, and now he was on his own.

He opened the driver's door and leaned in. The keys weren’t in the ignition, tucked above the sun visor, or lying in the seat. What
was
in the seat, though, was a white legal-size envelope with MR. THOMPSON typed on the front. It took him a couple seconds before he remembered that Thompson was the name on the false ID he’d been given earlier.

The flap of the envelope was only tucked in, so he flipped it out and removed a single sheet of paper from inside. Like his faux name on the envelope, the note inside was typed. It was short and to the point.

Wait here. Once it's dark, someone will come for you. Before then, burn this and your IDs. There is a lighter in the trunk, along with some food if you get hungry.

Good luck.

He read it twice. It was just another mysterious piece in his ultra-bizarre day. But the mention of food did remind him that it had been almost twenty-four hours since his last meal.

He pulled the trunk release, then moved around back and looked inside. In a brown paper bag, he found a couple of apples, a bag of trail mix, a few energy bars, and three bottles of water. Not exactly the juicy hamburger his stomach was hoping for, but it would do.

There was also one of those long-nosed lighters people used to light campfires and barbecues. But he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to burn his IDs. He’d begun to entertain the idea of taking off on his own. If he did that, the IDs could come in handy. He decided to eat first, then figure it out after.

Within ten minutes, he’d devoured both apples, two of the energy bars, and a good portion of the trail mix. The remainder he wrapped inside the brown sack and slipped into his messenger bag.

He moved to the end of the car and stared at the highway for several minutes. At a fast walk, he could get there in no time then hitch a ride to the next town.

What then, though?

Go to the police? Back to the Army?

The man who’d gotten him out of the building had said if he went back to the Army, the people who’d held him would find him again. Ash wasn’t convinced there were “people” yet. It still could have just been the Army doing what they thought was best for the greater good. But he couldn’t deny something very strange was going on. And if he wanted to find out why Ellen and the kids had been killed, his best bet at the moment was to stay free until he had more answers.

His mind made up, he retrieved his fake IDs and placed them on the ground with the note and envelope from the car. They burned easily, and soon were no more than ash and melted plastic. He mixed what was left into the dirt, then climbed back into the car and waited for the sun to go down.

10

“He’s out,” Pax said over the phone.

There was no need for anyone to reply. So far, this was only a one-way conversation.

“Grabbed his coat…taking a piss.”

Silence again.

“A lot of looking around…checking the car now.”

This should be it,
Matt thought.

“He found the letter.”

Yes. Good. Now what are you going to do, Captain?

“He’s read it, and now is checking the trunk. Looks like he’s going to eat something.”

The silence stretched for nearly ten minutes.

“Looking at the highway again.”

Are you walking or are you staying?

“Still looking…still…wait. He’s going back to the trunk…got the lighter…he’s burning everything. That’s a confirm. He’s moving back inside and….sitting in the car.”

“Janice, Michael,” Michael said into the phone. “Pickup is a go. Jordan, get ready to disable the satellite.”

Welcome to the team, Captain Ash.

11

The watch Ash’s wife had given him on their fifth anniversary had been taken away the night he was put in the cell, so he wasn’t exactly sure what time it was when he saw a pair of headlights exit the freeway and head in his direction.

As they neared, he realized they didn’t belong to a car, but an old Winnebago motor home. It slowed to a crawl as it turned off the road, then stopped in front of his sedan.

After a few seconds the side door opened, and a man and a woman emerged. They looked maybe ten years older than Ash, and smiled as they walked in his direction. When they neared his car, the woman stopped several feet away, but the man came right up to Ash’s window and leaned down.

As soon as Ash lowered it halfway, the man said, “Sorry we're late.”

Ash made no reply.

The man rubbed his arms with his hands. “It's a little chilly out. So if you’re ready to go, I’d love to get back in the 'Bago.”

Ash hesitated a moment. The thought of going it alone once more passed through his mind. But the conclusions he’d come up with before hadn’t changed, so he grabbed the messenger bag off the other seat and got out. Immediately, he pulled his jacket tight around his neck. Though it had been cold in the car, it was near freezing outside.

“We've got coffee in the motor home, if you'd like,” the man said, then nodded toward the woman. “Janice just heated up a pot before we turned off. If you're hungry we can cook you up something, too. There’s plenty of leftover chili from lunch. I'm Mike, by the way.”

He held out his hand. Ash shook it.

“Coffee sounds good. My name’s—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I already know who you are. You're Sam Wolverton. I’d recognize you anywhere.”

Apparently Craig Thompson was out, and Sam Wolverton was in. It was as good a name as any, Ash thought.

Mike and Janice led him over to the Winnebago, then inside where the temperature was a wonderfully bone-thawing forty degrees warmer. Ash slowly stretched his stiff cold fingers then rolled his shoulders, trying to bring his muscles back to life.

Janice pointed at a table in the rear. “If you want to have a seat, I'll get that coffee while Mike gets us back on the road.”

“Thanks,” Ash said.

He pulled off his jacket and sat down. Between the heat and the feel of movement and the calm exuded by Janice and Mike, some of the tension he’d been holding on to began to ease away.

It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.

The next thing he knew Janice was touching him on the shoulder.

“You all right?”

He jerked in surprise, then looked up. “I’m fine. Thanks. Just...trying to warm up.”

She set a cup of coffee in front of him. “This’ll help.”

“Thanks again.”

The coffee mug had a lid on top that allowed a person to drink without the liquid inside sloshing out while traveling. Ash took a sip. It was hot and delicious. In fact, it was the best cup of coffee he’d had in a long time.

The Winnebago took a turn to the right and began increasing speed. Ash could see they were transitioning back onto the interstate, but he missed the sign so he still had no idea which one they were on.

He took another, longer sip.

“Mind if I join you?” Janice asked from over at the stove.

“Not at all,” he told her.

She poured herself a cup of coffee then took a seat across the table from him.

“Do you…do this often?” he asked.

She cocked her head. “Do what?”

“Pick up strangers on deserted roads.”

A half-smile graced her lips. “You're not a stranger, Sam. We've known you for years.” She lifted her cup and took a drink.

“But we just—”

“We just what? Pulled off the highway so we could stretch our legs?”

He studied her face for a moment. “Who
are
you people?”