Chapter 32
32
Gil surfaced from sleep knowing that something was wrong.
Of course something was wrong. He’d contracted a zombie permafrost virus that had knocked him on his ass. But he actually felt better in that respect—his body didn’t seem to be on fire anymore. He could think more clearly. In this more lucid state, he knew that Ani had stepped out for some fresh air.
He missed her.
He loved her.
God damn it.
That inner ping sounded again, that deeply ingrained warning system that he’d developed since childhood. He’d always been able to tell when Lachlan needed him; that came with being a twin, even though they were far from identical. It wasn’t exclusive to Lachlan. It had served him well in his job too, and now it was telling him something wasn’t right with Ani.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, happy to see that they no longer felt like two lead anchors tied to his body. Rising to his feet, he staggered and grabbed onto the back of a chair to steady himself. Sweet Jesus, he’d never felt this weak before.
But standing up felt good. He stepped into the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. That felt even better. His energy was returning. Not full-force, but enough so he could track down Ani and find out why his alarm bells were going off. Clothes. He needed clothes and he needed Ani. He looked down at his body, half expecting to see that he’d lost half his muscle mass, but saw no striking change in his physique. That was a relief—he could still use his body to defend Ani if she needed it.
He staggered around the room for a few moments looking for the rest of his clothes, but couldn’t find them. Maybe Ani had whisked them away to get laundered. Clean clothes would be nice. But right now, his drawstring pants would have to do. He didn’t see any of his shirts lying around either, so he grabbed his jacket off a hook by the door and pulled it on over his bare chest.
Stepping outside the door for the first time in days nearly knocked him off his feet. The blast of sunshine and fresh air gave him a sharp rush of adrenaline. He breathed in deep, exercising his lungs, letting oxygen flow through his system.
He was alive. He’d done it. He’d beaten that frozen bastard that come through time to try to kill him.
That thought triggered a flash of memory—something that had occurred to him in the depths of his fever. He’d told himself to hold onto it, to remember it later, because it was important. In his mind, he could see the little flagpole he’d planted in the snow. Something buried here. But he didn’t have time to dig it up now.
He had to find Ani.
When he rounded the corner of the restaurant, he saw that the outdoor terrace was filled with customers. It must be lunchtime. All the picnic tables were filled, which made it hard to make out one particular customer in the throng. He didn’t know if he was still contagious, so he didn’t want to barge right into such a crowded scene. Even though the CDC doctor had said it wasn’t airborne, she clearly didn’t know everything about it and he didn’t want to make any assumptions.
He walked along the outside of the terrace, scanning faces and silhouettes, until finally he saw a flash of dark hair, a bare peek between a group of sunburned backpackers.
Squeezing past the corner of the terrace, he finally got a line of sight on the woman with the dark hair. It was Ani, her hair in a ponytail, a baseball cap on her head, large black sunglasses perched on her nose. That baseball cap was part of their “disguise” when they’d left the Wagon Wheel…was she still trying to mask her identity?
She was conversing with someone, leaning over the table to listen intently to what they were saying. Gil’s view of her companion was blocked by an outdoor heater and a kid who was jumping on his chair with a fistful of pepperoni.
But at least Ani was fine. The virus must have messed with his inner warning system. He hadn’t needed to come out here in his underwear to check on her. He turned away, and as he did, something in the alder bushes on the other side of the parking lot caught his eye.
He squinted to bring it into focus. Someone was lurking in the brush. A man, still and alert, clearly watching someone on the terrace. Gil followed his line of sight and landed on Ani’s table. In a crowded restaurant situation, the man had located probably the only spot where he could easily surveil Ani and her companion.
Had he seen Gil? He showed no sign of it. Gil ducked his head and headed back the way he’d come, then circled around the rear of the restaurant. A stretch of the gravel lot on the other side was set aside for RV parking. Two of the big deluxe homes-on-wheels were currently occupying those spaces. If he climbed onto one of those roofs, he could get a clear look at the man and figure out what he was up to.
By the time he reached the top of the closest—a deluxe Chinook—he was out of breath. Damn, he was going to have to start some kind of rehab and recovery workout. That virus had drained him.
On his belly, he wormed his way to the front of the RV and peered down into the alders.
And froze.
The man wore camouflage gear and a steely, all-business manner that Gil associated with the mercenaries he’d come across in his work. His binoculars were trained on Ani. A hunter’s rifle was slung over his shoulder.
Shit. Gil didn’t have any weapons with him. He’d staggered out of the hotel room completely unprepared. Did he have time to run back to his room and get the knife he always kept in a leg-holster? He didn’t even know where it was right now. Maybe in the laundry along with the rest of his clothes.
He saw two options. One, sneak up on the man from behind and take him out barehanded. Pros—he’d get that workout regime started early. Cons—he was weaker than normal, he was unarmed, he assumed the man had fighting skills, and it probably wasn’t possible to make no sound in those alders.
Option two…fuck it. It had to be option two.
He stood up, took off his jacket, and waved it over his head like a flag. “I’m the king of the world,” he howled at the top of his lungs, so everyone on the terrace could hear him. “Watch me fly! Anyone dare me to jump? Woohoo!!!!!”
On the terrace, reaction came quick and loud. Customers jumped to their feet and pointed at him. A server yelled at him to stay where he was. A burly man in an apron came barreling out of a side door. Someone yelled, “Get off my rental!” The kid who’d been jumping on his chair waved his arms at Gil and yodeled back at him.
Pure chaos, just as he’d hoped.
The man in the bushes crouched farther down so he wouldn’t be spotted now that people were looking that general direction. He let go of his binoculars, which hung from a strap around his neck. Gil was grateful for his shaggy hair, several days’ growth of beard and the shadows under his eyes. There was a chance that he too was on the man’s radar. If so, he might not recognize Gil from whatever photo he had.
Ani stood up and ripped off her sunglasses. “Gil!” she called, though she could hardly be heard over the excited chatter of the crowd.
IPhones. Thank God. Various customers were filming him, which normally would be a bad thing, especially for his career. Right now, he had to hope that the prospect of being caught on camera would stop the camo-guy from doing anything dangerous.
He met Ani’s gaze and mouthed, “get down,” adding a hand gesture that made the same point, though he disguised it as the drunken windmilling of an idiot playing Titanic.
“I’m the king of the world!” he yelled over the din. “I order you to go to your room! Go to your room, I say, or off with your head!”
Would she get it? Or would she assume he was still delusional with fever?
Imagination had never been his strong suit. That was Lachlan’s domain, that dreamy conjuring of what-if’s. So this was a stretch for him, trying to find a way to communicate with Ani that wouldn’t tip off the sniper.
“Everything red, everything dead.” He turned it into a singsong nursery rhyme and danced a jig on the RV’s roof. If anyone in the Diplomatic Security Service ever saw this video, he’d be out of a job for sure.
And then he realized that he didn’t care. It was time for a new line of work anyway.
Ani still gaped at him, but she was starting to get it. She said something to her companion and gathered up her sweater and purse.
“Down down down.” He sang and twirled. “Row row row your boat, gently down the stream. Before everything goes boom!”
Now she definitely got it. He kept up his crazy capering as she crouched down and disappeared behind some other customers who were craning their necks and milling around. From his vantage point, he felt confident that the guy with the rifle could no longer see Ani. But he kept up his drunken clown act until he saw her slip around the corner.
The man who’d been at the table with Ani was right on her heels. Gil didn’t like that. What if he was connected to the man hiding in the bushes? Or what if he’d been the target, not Ani?
Just before he disappeared around the corner, the man looked over his shoulder at Gil.
The shock nearly stopped him in mid-jig. The man who’d been eating with Ani was Victor Canseco.