Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
W hen the man—Ricky—demanded Ezra be at the meetup immediately, Ezra wasn’t sure how he could make it happen, so he did what he did best and asked questions. He'd managed to get everything resolved so Ricky was happy, though he did see Chaz’s eyeroll.
Ezra had completed the first part of the information-gathering without the bad guys getting angry. And Ezra was still travelling with Chaz. This was Ezra’s dream. He adored the concepts of the open road. To be able to combine an out-of-office mission from SPAM and a road trip made the whole ordeal so much better.
After purchasing their coffees and donuts, a tingling on the back of Ezra’s neck warned him their smooth morning was going to go kersplat. He was almost at the parked truck.
“Excuse me, sir?”
Ezra’s skin went hot and cold. Not now. He couldn’t do this now, not when Chaz was staring at him through the windshield.
“Sir? Can you help me?”
Words filled his throat, and Ezra fought mightily to hold them back. Nope, he could win. This stupid trick wasn’t going to defeat him. Nope. This was not a SPAM power. His appearance attracted needy people toward him, even though he wore a pair of ratty shorts and a grey T-shirt.
“We’re trying to find our way up past Manitoulin Island and yet there’s no road.” An older woman started speaking anyway. A small group of ladies waited nearby, eagle-eyed, as the first woman accosted Ezra. Ezra froze on the spot and tried hard not to respond. Chaz raised an eyebrow at him.
The pressure to answer the question overwhelmed Ezra, and the words slipped out. “You have to take a ferry.”
“Is that the Chi-Cheemaun? Do we need to buy advance tickets?” She stepped in front of Ezra, her face drowned by a large pair of sunglasses. She reminded Ezra of a praying mantis about to attack.
“I’d suggest doing so. It is summertime. Excuse me.” Ezra tried to duck around the woman and her friend, but another lady blocked his way.
“How do we do that? We’re not great with technology.” The new woman piped up. Sweat beaded on Ezra’s forehead as he attempted to escape without appearing impolite.
“Google Tobermory and you should be fine. There’s a link to the ferry website from there.” He trailed off, unsure of how to exit the conversation. “Or you can pop into that information booth at the end of the parking lot. I can see it’s open now.”
“The man was rude. He ignored our questions. How long will it take to get to the ferry?” The first woman leaned forward into Ezra’s space, and he stepped back to escape.
“I don’t know. I’m not from here,” he sputtered. Ezra looked over the group's heads and tried to meet Chaz’s eyes through the glass. Chaz's frown warned Ezra this was taking too long. He understood the glare, but he couldn’t figure out how to free himself from the situation. Chaz shook his head as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.
“We’re not going to the ferry. We aren’t going all the way up to Tobermory. At all. You should have said something.” Chaz approached Ezra and the group. Ezra hadn't seen him exit the truck. “Come on. We’ve got a deadline.”
“Excuse me. But we’re not done here. This man?—”
“Is busy with someone else. So go away.”
“Well, I never!” The original lady huffed and glared at Chaz before lasering in on Ezra. “The ferries, dear boy?”
“Information desk over there.” Ezra pointed toward the booth once more. Trying to not answer the questions was killing Ezra. He ached to respond and let the woman be satisfied with what Ezra could give her, but the need to leave warred with his urges.
“We already said?—”
“And Dear Boy has answered you. We’re late, Ez. Come on. Did you manage to hit the restrooms?” Chaz asked. Ezra was mortified by the question, but Chaz wasn’t aiming that at him, but the woman.
“Yeah.”
“Then get in the truck. We need to motor.” Chaz shoved him toward the passenger side and went around to the drivers. The ladies stood in a huddle, all glaring at Ezra.
“They keep staring at you,” Chaz said once he shifted into drive. “It’s creepy.”
“I hadn’t finished?—”
“You did. We have to go. Our Bigfoot awaits.”
“But what if they get lost?”
“Ezra, take a deep breath and relax. You answered the questions to your best ability. Sometimes, the world has to be satisfied with what little you could give.”
Ezra glanced back and watched as the older ladies moved en masse to the information booth. He conducted a mental check on himself and realized nothing tugged at him to return. He had completed the task. How weird. He was never the first person to walk away. He always waited until the asker was satisfied.
Chaz pulled out of the parking lot and eased into traffic. “So I was looking at the maps. And the place the guy wants to chat does have a farm entrance, but I'm not leaving my truck there. We'll find a spot at the visitor’s centre at the park and hike to the location. It’ll take about fifteen minutes.”
Ezra listened and became fascinated by how Chaz analysed the situation. This was what Ezra dreamed of being like when he was a more seasoned office manager. Chaz had the groundwork ready to implement. Each step was so smooth that Ezra itched to jump in and get shit done.
Once they sorted what the initial plan was and were ready for any setback, Chaz opened his mouth. “Explain the ladies.”
“It’s nothing. I just have that face, you know?” Ezra waved away Chaz’s concern. Everyone had a weird quirk, and that was his. People assumed he was a helper and approached him.
“Most strangers answer a question and walk off. You didn’t. You looked trapped.” God, Chaz was persistent.
“People can be a little?—”
“A little? That bitch had you sweating, and then there was the woman in Wiarton. She also jumped on you.” Chaz glanced at Ezra before focusing on the road. “Are you forced to answer a set amount of questions before you can leave?”
“They were worried about missing the ferry. I had to make sure they—” Again, Ezra wasn’t allowed to finish his sentence.
“Send them to the ferry information board, which you did. It’s their job to help tourists with those sorts of problems.”
“I don’t care if someone was standing beside me with the answer in bold print! I have to answer what that person asks me! It is imperative I give them a solution! I am wired that way, and I hate that you can’t see it!” Ezra roared. Chaz swerved the truck slightly at the sudden yelling.
“Sorry.” Chaz corrected his driving, and the only sound was Ezra’s harsh breathing as he recovered from his rant. A small box was thrust in his direction, a peace offering. “Timbit?”
Ezra pulled out an old-fashioned glazed and popped it in his mouth. The sugary goodness smoothed out his anxiety and allowed his thoughts to settle down. “I didn’t mean to yell.”
“No worries. I goaded you.” Chaz dropped his hand palm up on the console and wiggled his fingers. Ezra stared at them as though they were worms ready to attack. “Give me your hand.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I fucking asked you.” Chaz curled his fingers once before laying them flat and glared at Ezra.
“But—” Ezra set his palm on Chaz’s gingerly and jumped when Chaz laced their fingers together. The touch, the gentleness, was welcome, and even more of Ezra’s stress dissipated. “Are you sure? It seems awkward.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested holding your hand if I didn’t mean it,” Chaz said. His tone was so cranky and unwelcoming, but his grip was firm. “Just relax and breathe. You’re coming down from a power rush combined with anxiety.”
“What do you mean?”
“Isn’t that your ability?”
“No? I don’t have one. I work in the office and help organize people like you. You say you have a superpower, though I haven’t figured out what it is.”
“The inability to retire. I’ve been doing this for years, kiddo.”
The nickname grated on Ezra’s nerves, though Chaz did it on purpose. He never released his hold on Ezra.
“Don’t call me kiddo.” It was the only thing Ezra could reply with. His brain had focused on the touch of Chaz’s hand and how comforting it was while he tried to figure out Chaz’s power. “I’m just a couple of years younger than you.”
“And yet, so na?ve in other ways. Chill out. Honestly, I have been trying to leave the company for a while now, and April always calls me back in for one last mission. I don’t even think she realizes what’s she doing.” His words soothed the hackles raised, and Ezra was able to enjoy the Timbits as he listened to Chaz speak.
“That was the worst person yet,” Ezra admitted after a while. He’d been fielding people's questions for most of his life. Most of the time, it wasn’t too bad, but this lady was more determined than anyone he’d ever helped before. He had always assumed he had an air of a competent but kind person.
“She was fucking stubborn, wasn’t she?”
Nothing more was said as they drove. The trees grew more coniferous, and rocks began to appear along the side of the road, reminding him they were heading into northern Ontario. And still Ezra held Chaz’s hand.
“What’s our play now?” Ezra pulled out his phone and reread the Bigfoot file.
“The play is we sell ourselves hard to these idiots and stop them. Take their phones and whatever other things they were using, and boom, done within the hour. Nothing can go wrong at this point.” Chaz paled and cursed. Ezra didn’t understand what had happened, but a switch flipped, and Chaz grew unresponsive for a few minutes. The fiercest scowl on his face stopped Ezra from continuing to speak.
Ezra tried not to think about how at ease Chaz was about this job. Sure, it seemed easy from everyone else’s perspective. Something bothered him about the smoothness. Passing a farmer’s field with big ruts and mud, Ezra spotted a small brown truck hiding behind some scrub. “That’s the meetup point, I’m assuming.”
“Yeah, I’m not going in there. Good thing we decided on some place else, eh?” Chaz grinned before turning at the Bruce Peninsula National Park entrance. He found a spot in the day-use lot to park and hopped out.
“You’re very smart.” Ezra sprayed bug repellent all over and did the same to Chaz. “Are we ready?”
“Think so? I’ll bring the day pack with the extra water and snacks, just in case.” Chaz adjusted his backpack and hopped lightly, allowing everything to settle. “What about you? Water bottles, good shoes? Hat?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Ezra squeezed the brim of his baseball hat once and waved Chaz forward. His first mission from SPAM. He'd started it. Now it felt real.
Chaz led him down an overgrown trail, which he assured Ezra was the best way to the meet site. The walk was fast, but when they arrived, no one was around, despite the pickup truck being parked. The doors were wide open, and everything was tossed around. Ezra peered in and gagged. The smell of sour dairy was too much.
“It wasn’t like this when we drove by!” Ezra sucked in the sweet, fresh air as he leaned over. Chaz patted his back gently and glanced inside himself.
“There was a scuffle of sorts. Maybe Ricky and friends got into a fight?” Chaz walked around the truck, snapping pictures.
“What’re you doing?”
“Getting evidence. Come on, let’s?—”
A loud bang from the trees cut Chaz’s suggestion short. Ezra dropped to the ground and swung his head around, looking for where the sound originated. “What was that?”
“I don’t know! How would I know?” Chaz belly-crawled toward Ezra and peered upward. “I think it came from behind us.”
“You’re an agent! Shouldn’t you know this shit?”
“I’m also Canadian! And this shit doesn’t happen! Come on, let’s get back to the truck.” Chaz began inching away. Ezra followed suit until he felt something press down on his spine.
“Where do you think you’re going?” The voice wasn’t familiar, and as Ezra turned to see who it was, he was struck by a blunt object. He dimly heard Chaz growling before his lights went dark.