But even as I began opening the car door, movement caught my eye. I turned and saw the man standing behind the open door of the scientist’s car raise his arms and rest them on the top of the door frame.
Saw the glint of metal in his hands.
Realized I’d been wrong, so wrong, in my earlier estimation of how far they might go out in the open, in front of witnesses.
I heard the incongruous popping sound.
I swore and flung open the door. Something slammed into my shoulder, spinning me around, smashing my head against the top of the car.
Then I was falling . . .
Chapter Six
I hit the roadside with a grunt, and for a moment, everything went black. But I could hear voices, and shouting. I could feel anger. Thick, thick anger. Then there was this weird whooshing sound, and heat filled the morning, burning bright. The taint of burning rubber and paint began to touch the air.
I forced my eyes open. Saw flames, leaping high. Flames that were coming from Trae, who stood behind our car, and flames that roared from the fingers of the dark-haired man standing in front of the other car. The two fiery lances met in the middle of the parking lot and erupted upward.
Then the car behind the hunter exploded, sending him and the men who were cowering behind it flying. Trae appeared and dragged me upright, shoving me hastily into his car. Pain swirled, and I made a sound that was half groan, half curse.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Trae’s voice was raw, and filled with the anger I’d felt moments ago. “But we have to get out of here before they come back. How’s that shoulder?”
“Hurts,” I said, voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
Something pressed against it. “Hold that. Don’t let go.”
When I didn’t move, he grabbed my good hand and pressed it against the cloth. “Hold it, Des. Hold it tight, and just stay awake.”
“I’ll try.”
I did try. I just didn’t succeed.
I have no idea how long I was out, but waking was a long, painful process.
My shoulder felt like a throbbing furnace, and there were a thousand tiny gnomes armed with sharp little axes working away at the inside of my head.
I shifted, trying to ease both the aches, but that only managed to make them both worse. A groan escaped my lips, and the sound seemed to echo.
The hollowness reminded me of the cells that had been a part of my life for so many years, and my heart began to race. Part of me wanted to open my eyes and find out where the hell I was. But the cowardly part was afraid of what might be revealed. Of what it might mean.
Because there was no sound of the car. No feeling that there was anyone or anything near. Just an unearthly, unending hush that had the hairs along my arms standing on end.
I breathed deep. Dustiness filled the air, along with a sense of age and regret—as if wherever I lay had once been cared for but now lay abandoned.
At least the air wasn’t filled with the scent of antiseptic cleanliness, which surely had to mean I wasn’t caught. Wasn’t with them again.
Reluctantly, I forced my eyes open. Afternoon sunlight streamed into the room from the ceiling-high windows that lined the end wall directly opposite. The brightness sliced through the middle of the room but left the corners to shadows and imagination. But not even the shadows could hide the neglected state of the room. Ornate wallpaper hung in fading strips down the walls, and what paint remained on the high ceilings and fancy cornices was so cracked and yellowed that it was hard to say what color it might have been originally. I shifted to get a better view of the rest of the room, and discovered the hard way that my skin had decided to cling to whatever it was that I lay on. It peeled away with an odd sort of sucking sound and almost immediately began to sting and itch.
The reason, I discovered, as I looked around at the high back of the old sofa on which I lay, was plastic. The whole sofa was covered in it. And the T-shirt I was wearing had ridden up at the back, exposing my butt and spine.
There was another plastic-covered chair stuck in the far corner but little else in the way of furniture. Just a tired-looking fireplace that added to the cold and forlorn air.
“Trae?” My voice came out a croak. I cleared my throat, and the sound echoed softly. “Trae?”
No answer came. I wondered if I were alone. Wondered if he’d run out on me again.
I forced myself upright—too fast, I quickly discovered, as the ax-wielding gnomes got to work with a vengeance. Sweat popped out across my forehead and a hiss escaped my lips. I closed my eyes, waiting until everything stopped spinning, then slowly, carefully, got to my feet.
My arm and shoulder throbbed in protest, and suddenly felt heavy. I looked down. Bandages were poking out from the frayed end of an old gray T-shirt. And though I doubted that Trae had actually abandoned me again, at least if he had, he’d patched me up first and given me a clean shirt.