11 - Peyton
PEYTON
My eyes fluttered part of the way open, just in time to see the hulking figure that approached my bed. He came silently, deliberately, moving through the blackness of what amounted to the dead of night.
As he bent to slip his palm firmly over my mouth, I was ready.
My hand shot beneath the pillow in one smooth movement. It was a simple thing to locate the kitchen knife I’d placed there, shortly after my arrival. It was a similarly easy thing to sweep it upward, angling the blade until it was right up against my intruder’s throat.
He stiffened, then took his hand from my mouth.
“So your balls are feeling better, I guess?”
Ripley froze, staring down at me. He chuckled gruffly.
“I’m flattered, but I’m not here to fuck you.”
He was whispering. For some reason, I whispered back.
“Oh no?”
I scrambled to an upright position. It was dark, it was late, and I didn’t remember going to bed. The last thing I remembered was laying down to close my eyes.
“You need to get dressed,” he whispered, dropping his voice even lower. “We might be in trouble.”
Alarm bells flashed. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, only to find him thrusting my boots at me.
“Don’t turn any lights on. And stay quiet.”
I dressed quickly, as Ripley slipped from the room. My head felt better, but my heart was pounding like a war drum. I didn’t have to ask what kind of trouble we were in. I already knew.
Donovan.
Back in the living area, I found Theo bent over the quaint little desk I’d hoped to enjoy when I first booked the place. He was wearing a jeweler’s loupe over one eye, and holding a pair of tiny steel instruments. Then I saw the locket.
“What are you—”
His wrist flicked, and the little hammer he was holding slammed home. It drove the mini-screwdriver straight through the elaborate filigree, and into the heart of the silver locket.
CLINK.
Theo hissed out a heated breath; one he’d been holding in for way too long.
“It’s done?”
I almost didn’t notice Colson standing near the window, back flat against the wall. He was holding the curtain back with a sleek, long-barreled pistol.
“Yes,” sighed Theo. “The tracker’s disabled, but everything else should be intact.”
Colson didn’t look so enthused. “Should be?”
“Look man, these aren’t the right tools. The best I could hope for is—”
“No time for this,” Ripley came flying in from the kitchen. “They’re here.”
A hand slipped into mine, thick and reassuring. I followed their lead, keeping my head low as we scrambled out through the side door. The crunch of gravel betrayed us, as we traded caution for speed. A moment later, I was being shoved into the back of a charcoal-colored Suburban.
“GO!”
Colson was already in the driver’s seat, somehow. The engine roared to life, and I was sucked into the seat like an astronaut, by the sudden acceleration.
“Two SUV’s, black, no plates.”
Theo’s voice was all business. His computer was already open in his lap, his handsome face illuminated by the ghostly, almost spectral glow.
“Donovan,” I murmured. “I thought you told him you had me?”
“We did,” Ripley confirmed from the passenger seat. “We told him we were en route.”
The big Suburban fishtailed, throwing us sideways as Colson whipped us onto the main road.
“So why this?” I jerked a thumb.
Ripley shrugged. “Guess we weren’t all that convincing.”
Headlights swept over us, bright and glaring. A moment later, I heard a sharp, unmistakable crack.
“Keep your head down.”
The glass behind us shattered, just as I obeyed. It showered the entire back seat with jagged, tempered pieces. Looking more annoyed than alarmed, Theo swept the shards from the surface of his keyboard.
“There’s a service road up ahead — an old one. It’s not on the digital map.”
Colson was clenching the steering wheel so tightly, I was afraid he might rip it off. His fingers were white.
“How far?”
“Three-tenths of a mile. I’ll tell you when we’re coming up on—”
More gunshots rang out. More glass exploded into the back seat, like some hellish rain. Colson floored it, and the vehicle bounced dangerously on the uneven road.
Then I heard the metallic clink of a gun being cocked, and Ripley was twisting around.
“No!” Colson stopped him, grabbing his friend’s extended arm. “We’re not engaging.”
Ripley shoved his hand away. “You’re not engaging,” he growled. “But I’m sure as shit—”
“NOW!”
The truck fishtailed again, this time at the sound of Theo’s voice. From out of nowhere, a road — more of a path, really — appeared. It swallowed us whole, as Colson barely made the turn.
Behind us, one of the SUV’s missed the turn entirely. It kept going, red brake lights illuminating the thick forest, as it tried to slow down.
“Lost one!” I cried out, the excitement infectious. “But there’s still one on us.”
The high-pitched screech of branches assailed our ears, as trees flew past us in both directions. They raked the beautiful paint job of our poor truck, as Colson once again applied the accelerator.
“This is tight…” he growled.
“Yeah.”
“Too tight?”
Theo shook his head. “Don’t worry, it opens up. Just—”
CRACK!
The explosion came from inside the car, this time. It was violent. Concussive. Overwhelming.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Ripley’s pistol tore at our eardrums again and again, causing Theo and I to recoil in abject shock. Colson swore, scathingly. The Suburban’s engine screamed…
Somewhere behind us, a violent collision occurred. It was followed instantly by a cacophony of panicked shouts and breaking glass.
“Got ‘em.”
I could make out the words, over the high-pitched ringing. Hands still over my ears, I glanced back and saw our lone pursuer’s vehicle. The front end was crumpled forward, wrapped almost entirely around a tree.
“You’re a fucking maniac!” Colson roared back. “You know that!?”
Beneath his smug smile, Ripley said nothing. He merely put his gun away, and turned to face the onrushing darkness.
Theo closed his laptop. He did it slowly, with the cool calm of someone accustomed to stress. It made me wonder just how long he’d been working for Donovan. All three of them, really.
“So what happens now?” I asked aloud.
Colson’s steel blue eyes met my gaze in the rear-view mirror.
“Now, we run.”
Run. I’d been running for less than a day and I was exhausted already.
But Theo, sitting alongside me, slowly shook his head.
“No,” he countered. “Now we disappear.”
He opened the laptop again, and began hammering away at the keys. I found the sound — not to mention the look of determination on his face — oddly reassuring.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I actually felt hope.
Donovan’s still never going to stop looking for you.
No, I knew that he wouldn’t. Even now he was out there plotting his next move, planning the best way he could drag us back.
But now, thankfully, I was no longer alone.