53. KATIE
Chapter fifty-three
KATIE
I rummage through the few belongings I packed. If I’m going to go, now is the time. Callum and Max are both gone, and I can hear Loren pacing next door. He’s on the phone, and while I can’t tell who he’s talking to, he seems to be lost in an animated conversation.
I sent him a text saying I was going to bed early and not to worry about me. I don’t like sneaking around, but dammit if I want to go out, then I am going to go out. Callum said I needed an Alpha, but he doesn’t know my capabilities. I’m not some submissive Omega who’s content to be a pet. I’m not asking for permission– not if it means delaying our potential return to Earth.
I grab a small messenger-style bag and shove a few items into it: the knife I retrieved with Max from the hospital. My phone so I can tell my sisters what I find. The map Callum had given me and my meticulous notes about Blowing Rock and the Hal- Sequath Ridge. I grab the bottle of scent-canceling spray too, spritzing a little over my head and chest. Just in case.
I sneak downstairs, remembering to ease my weight on the banister so I don’t alert Loren to my movements. I changed into a freshly washed set of yoga pants and a tank top, leaving my worn clothing in a pile by the door. If scent is a trigger for them, then my room should smell pretty strongly of me even without me there.
I pause in the kitchen, grabbing one of the pre-filled reusable water bottles that Max stocks in the door of the fridge. It’s a risk to even open the refrigerator, but hydration is key, and the faucet is loud. I also swipe a couple of Max’s gym bro protein bars. They’re probably terrible, but I’ve eaten my weight in MREs, so I can stomach most foods.
I pause, looking around the space. There isn’t much more that I need. Just keys, and the guts to go. Part of me wants to linger, to breathe in Loren’s fresh laundry and musky book smell one more time. No, I need to be focused on my mission objective. I am going to the excavation site at Blowing Rock. I am going to see if there’s any possible chance that we could trigger a portal back to earth.
I march down to the garage and peruse the cars. Most vehicles in Halvassa are electric, but I noticed that Loren’s plum-colored sports car still had an engine that revved. So, that one was out. The SUV is gone– probably what Callum was driving. But there was a sleek black town car– similar to the one that Loren and Max had ridden in when they came to get me. That had been nearly silent on the road, if I remembered correctly.
I had to hope it didn’t have a loud engine. The garage door was still open– Thank God Max had forgotten to close it. I slide into the car and remember I don’t have keys in my bag. Of course I don’t, this isn’t my old Camry. This is way nicer than anything I could have afforded.
I look in the tiny glove compartment and snort.
What kind of trusting bastards keep keys in their glove box? Whatever, I am going to just thank the universe, or God, or some tiny alien angel for this small win. That makes part one of the mission a whole lot easier.
I pull out of the garage with ease, the handling of the town car surprisingly responsive. This would be a sweet car to drive if I stayed.
If I stayed .
I can’t discount the possibility that I will find nothing. That when I get to the site it will just be a pile of rubble and ruins, and I will be stuck on Amaata and have to find a way forward.
It wouldn’t be so terrible. Being with Loren and Max.
Callum might be harder to adjust to.
But this midnight ride of mine could end any of those relationships before they get off the ground. Trust seems to be a fragile thing in this pack.
Not that it’s my problem. I didn’t create the trust issues, and all I’m doing is investigating a timely lead.
Focus Wilder .
Mission objective: confirm one way or another if the excavation site at Blowing Rock really can get us home.
I glance down at the map, then at the directions I pulled up on my phone. I suspect that my phone is monitored, so I plugged in directions that would get me halfway. Then I can follow the paper map.
I pause at a red light, my pulse ratcheting up.
This feels a lot like running away. Wilder women never run from problems. We might over function, or ignore them until they consume us, but we don’t run away.
I swallow as the light turns green. Funny how on an alien planet they still have red and green lights.
I get to the edge of the city, my GPS leading me in a seamless line through Old Fourth Ward, and across the back end of Third Ward, up to the edge of where the dense buildings begin to thin and more trees line the streets. There aren't any suburbs here, at least according to the maps. There are large population centers, like the Capital Halvassa. Or, there are small village squares with farms dotting the countryside. Urban sprawl seems to be well contained.
I close out my phone’s GPS, and follow the marked route on my map. Ten more minutes to the turn off to the park that houses Blowing Rock. Another ten to the excavation site.
My phone pings and there’s a message from Max.
Max: How are you hanging in, Tough Girl?
My heart skips a beat. Does he know where I am? Is he angry?
Not that it matters because fuck this, I am an adult who can go out if I want to. Although, I’ve seen how Alphas react to Omegas here. There are safety concerns. I should have looked for one of Callum’s taser guns. No matter, I am focused on the mission at hand.
I pause at a stop sign – these are red too, but rectangles with reflective tape in a big x on either side of the word “STOP”-- and shoot Max a message back.
Katie: Fine. Tired. Just trying to rest.
Not a total lie. At least, the first two words. I don’t know if there are cellular towers here that can ping my location. Damn, I should have thought of that. But I need to be able to tell my sisters if I do find a portal.
I set my phone down, and ignore it as it pings again. I don’t want to miss my turn. I see the sign, partially hidden by the low-hanging branch of a tree and I turn off the main road. There aren’t very many cars out this way, and the parade of street lamps wanes.
Damnit, I should have grabbed a flashlight too. But where would I look for one of those? No, that would have given me away. I’ll have to use my phone. Luckily these have lights on them like back on Earth.
My phone pings one more time, and my pulse throbs loudly. Do they know? Have they figured out that I’ve snuck out?
Maybe. And if they do, then fine . I’m an adult and I wasn’t prohibited from leaving.
Jesus fucking Christ, I’m acting like a scared teenager. Let them be mad if they want, I need to do this now and make sure that any viable window to get home isn’t wasted.
I turn right onto a dirt drive that winds down toward the excavation site. I see the tell tale signs of tools, and a few open air tents, set up for relief from the sun. There is what looks like a temporary shed, locked up tight with an impressive digital lock. Beside it are several parking spaces. I pull smoothly in. If anyone looks, they might assume someone from the dig left their car overnight.
I snort. Yeah, because archeologists could afford a town car like this.
I mean, maybe in an alien world they can. I really don’t know.
I glance down at my phone. Max has sent three messages in a row.
Max: Did Loren wear you out this afternoon, Tough Girl?
Max: He may be a gentle giant on the outside, but I know he has a devious streak on the inside.
Max: Hey, you’re okay, aren’t you? If you need me to come home, just say the word. You are way more fun than these gymbos any day.
My heart climbs from my chest into my throat, and I have to swallow back a sob. Fuck, I wish Max was here. Not because I'm scared or nervous, but because he’s been such an encouraging presence to me from the very first. His unhurried flirting and teasing puts me at ease.
No, I can’t indulge. I need to focus.
I ignore the messages, leaving them unread. It hurts, my throat constricting tight as I swipe the messages screen closed. Maybe he’ll assume I fell asleep.
Then I step out of the car, going through my bag to ensure I have my notes, my map, and my knife. I douse myself in a liberal shower of the scent-canceling spray. I hope I don’t need it, but just in case there’s an Alpha guard patrolling the grounds, it seems like a good precaution. I slide the knife into my sock as a secondary precaution.
I snatch my phone– no more messages from Max – and swipe up to the flashlight.
“Find the site, look around, and confirm a portal.”
My mission objective is clear. So why am I hesitating?
My phone pings again, and I reflexively swipe the screen open, hoping it’s Max. My hopes fall. It’s Layla.
Layla: I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You seemed upset when you called, and I am worried about you. I know you want to fix this for us, but it’s not your fault that we ended up here, and no one is expecting you to miraculously get us home.
I pause, staring at the screen. I want to call her and tell her that I am fixing it. Right fucking now. But then another message pops up.
Layla: I know you, Katie. I know that you hyper-fixate, and you think you can just manage all of our problems away. But it’s not your responsibility to manage this for us. If we find a way home, great. But if we don’t, we will be okay. I need you to know that we are all okay.
My throat is dry. She doesn't believe in me, doesn't trust that I can do this. Part of my brain is telling me that, no, she is trying to let me know that it doesn't matter if I find a portal back home. But that part of my brain is drowned out by the heat of anger and frustration and pure powerlessness .
I can fix this. I have been fixing shit for her – for all of them– my whole life.
I type out a short message, then swipe back to my flashlight, anger fueling my steps.
Katie: I am fixing this. Right now.