Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The buried cache of weapons, rations, cash and clothes was undisturbed; Cath, Zeke, and Eleanor brought it back. There was even a plastic box holding car keys, Yoshi told Rowan the vehicles were at a warehouse in the city waiting for pickup.
The small house Henderson had the keys for was empty save for a few mattresses in each room, but Rowan didn’t care. She dropped onto one in the living room and was instantly asleep; she dreamed of blank white walls and something like icy lava eating through her arms and legs.
When she woke fourteen hours later, the house was transformed into an impromptu command center.
Yoshi perched on a chair, looking a lot more comfortable now that he had a keyboard, screen, and hard drive.
Cath handed Eleanor a cup of something that smelled an awful lot like coffee, and Bobby was busy sorting ammunition into different boxes.
The others were probably out getting supplies or in other rooms, working away like busy little bees.
“Morning.” Henderson looked down at her, hunched over a table with a map and a cell phone on it. There were markers on the map, lead weights painted different colors. “Want some coffee?”
She opened her mouth to say yes, but nothing came out.
Instead, she levered herself to her feet to find the bathroom, stumbling.
It was a relief to close a door, and the sound of the flushing toilet covered the low sobbing noise she made.
There were paper towels stacked near the sink; she washed her face with cold water and patted it dry.
She ran her fingers through tangled hair, grimacing.
The hum of dampers was normal, now, and she was no longer a wildly-emitting distress beacon. Her eyes had giant dark circles underneath; her hands shook.
She walked like a robot down the hall, into the living room again. The shades were drawn tight, slivers of sunlight falling through the cracks. The house was warm; Rowan collapsed on the mattress again, staring fixedly at all the activity.
Cath brought a cup of coffee. “Drink. You drained yourself last night. You’ll need food too. Come on, Price.”
Rowan obediently drank.
Hot, and sweet. Rowan sighed as sugar and caffeine began to sink in. Henderson made more notations on the map, then rolled it up and turned to in her direction.
She met his steel-colored gaze squarely, and waited for condemnation.
“You saved lives last night, Price,” he said finally. “We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t done what you did.”
She cleared her throat, a sad little sound. “I cost you your best operative, General. I didn’t see the trap in time.”
Henderson actually sighed, rubbing at his eyes.
His gray hair was wildly mussed, he was missing his steel-rimmed glasses, and his clothes were rumpled and wrinkled on his spare frame.
For someone who was usually so precise, the change was shocking.
“If Del’s alive, he’ll come back for you. And they won’t kill him.”
“Why not?” She stared into her coffee cup.
“They need him to hunt us.” Henderson got up, the chair creaking. “Now drink up, and eat something. I need you to help me get everyone to safety and figure out how to rebuild. Delgado needs you, too. If he comes back and finds out you’ve done something silly, he’ll be very unhappy with me.”
She knew he was only using it to needle her, but the gambit worked. She felt the sharp prick of irritation, took another gulp of hot coffee.
Cath brought her—wonder of wonder—two strawberry Pop Tarts. “I’m making toast and eggs, but you can start on that. You need sugar or you’ll develop a backlash headache.” The girl’s mohawk was sadly bedraggled, but her violet eyes were clear. “That was some good work last night.”
“I failed,” Rowan answered. “And Justin…”
Cath shook her head. “Don’t mope, Ro. I hate mopers. We need you to do some of your fancy work for us. Garth’s leg is bleeding again, and Melissa… well, she’s retreating. We need you.”
He needs me too. Rowan’s conscience struggled. They’d shot him with a tranquilizer dart. And she’d dreamed of white walls, and something burning.
“I’ll stay until Garth and Melissa are better,” she said, slowly. “But I have to find Justin. He’d find me.”
“Shit, the man’s got nine lives.” Cath shrugged. “I gotta go, my eggs are burning. Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“Of course not,” Rowan murmured, looking back down into her coffee cup.
I’m going to find him. Icy resolve closed over her heart. He’d find me. No matter what it takes.
The other thought, just under the surface of her consciousness, almost frightened her.
And God help anyone in my way.
To Be Continued…