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.Myankle was numb, probably leaving a trail of blood for anyone with two eyes to follow,but I couldn t stop to wrap it.I had to keep going.To get away before they had mecornered.I burst through the first-floor door and emerged in a dimly lit lobby.An elderly womanstared at me over her cane.Her mouth dropped open, and a thoroughly gummed cigarfell to the threadbare carpet.I tore past her, toward bright sunlight and a pair of doubleglass doors.Past a row of metal mailboxes and a closed door with Manager printed inchoppy block letters.Back outside into warm spring air.And the wail of police sirens.The west wall of the apartment building butted up against a grubby mom-and-popgrocery.The windows were papered with ads dated two years ago, but still advertising Fresh! And Cheap! produce.I stopped on the cracked sidewalk, under the protectionof a red vinyl canopy, and tried to catch my breath.Calm my heart.Think straight. My teeth ached, and I finally noticed that at some point during my flight, I d bittendown on the handle of my serrated knife probably right before I climbed the fireescape and it was still clenched in my teeth.I slipped it back into its sheath, and thenchecked my other ankle.My shoe was soaked, but the graze had stopped bleeding,leaving behind an angry red gash.A quick sidewalk check revealed no trail.The sirens grew louder, bouncing over from the opposite block.Distant reminders thatI d left Wyatt behind.Alone.A figure emerged from the apartment s lobby door, but he looked the other way first.Iducked into the grocery store, assaulted by frigid air and the yeasty odor of bread.Twoancient checkout counters marked the front of the shop.I smiled at the clerk a blandgirl no older than sixteen.She smiled and returned to her magazine.I slipped down the first aisle, making tracks to the back room.Two rows over, I spotteda swinging Employees Only door.A bell jingled at the front of the store.My stomachchurned.I pushed through, urged onward by fear and a feral need to avoid capture.Icouldn t help Wyatt if I were in matching handcuffs, or dead for the second time.The stockroom reeked of rotting vegetables and stale water, thick and nauseating.But Iignored the stench and navigated a path past a small office hearing the sounds ofheavy breathing, which told me where the rest of the staff was to another door.Thisone was next to a loading dock.The wires on the emergency handle were cut.Theemployees probably used it regularly.A tentative nudge proved me correct.I pushed itopen far enough to get a peek into the back lot.The loading dock was blocked off by three metal Dumpsters.A ten-foot chain fence,topped by razor wire, separated the narrow alley from the lot behind it.The BurgerPalace was on my right, catty-corner from my position, line of sight obscured.I duckedoutside, staying as close to the trash cans as I could manage without vomiting from theodor of rotting meat and produce.Then I ducked past them to the fence.Between the scratchy branches of two unruly bushes, I could see part of the parking lot.Wyatt s car was still in its spot, flanked by the two black sedans, all four doors thrownopen.Two men about my (former) age were searching it Hunters I vaguelyrecognized, mostly from instinct.The way they moved, analyzed, and searched for clueswas instinctual, calculated, and deadly.Rufus sat on the curb, holding an ice pack against his jaw.A man in a smart suit aHandler named Willemy, if I recalled correctly crouched in front of him, his handsmoving in circles as he talked.Rufus kept shaking his head, saying little.The one person I needed to see was missing.He could be in one of those tinted sedans,bound and ready for transport elsewhere.Would he have resisted and forced them totake desperate action? No, he wouldn t risk getting himself killed.Not now.I justneeded to see it with my own eyes.A telephone rang.Willemy fished in his jacket pocket and retrieved his cell.Hisdrooping frown morphed into sheer delight.He snapped the phone shut and saidsomething to Rufus, who nodded, silent.I squinted at him.From that distance, I couldn t tell if he was out of sorts from my punch, or if he was just a good actor.Willemy seemed finished with him for the time being.He stood up and faced therestaurant.The side door swung open.Nadia Stanislavski and Philip Tully emerged, one on eitherside of Wyatt.His hands were cuffed behind his back, and he walked straight.Nolimping or dragging, no marks that I could see.Sharp pain lanced through my palm; Iloosened my fist, releasing nails from indented flesh.They led him toward the closest sedan.He looked straight ahead, giving nothing.If heexpected me to be there somewhere, waiting for him, watching in the wings, he gave noindication.He would have yelled and cursed had he known I was crouching in thebushes instead of putting miles between us.I wanted to let him know I was there, togive some suggestion of my presence, but I remained a silent spectator, watching asthey ushered him into the car and slammed the door.Nadia slid into the front seat of Wyatt s car.Rufus climbed in next to her.She followedthe black sedan out of the parking lot, taking Wyatt away.One car remained behind, asdid Tully.He was perched on the hood, waiting for & who? The person who d chasedafter me, most likely.If the entire Triad had come after its Handler, that meant Wormerwas tracking me.Or had already lost me; I couldn t be sure.There were damn fewthings I could be certain of at that particular moment in time.My neck prickled.I held my breath.Soft leather soles whispered across the parkinglot s cracked blacktop, kicked the occasional pebble, and came to rest close by myposition.I didn t turn to look.Looking might rustle the bushes that protected me.Acramp lanced through my thigh.I bit my tongue, trying to distract myself from theagony I couldn t acknowledge.I needed to breathe.The footsteps moved past me.I let out a shaky breath, then inhaled slowly.My burninglungs wanted to cough.The cramp intensified; tears sparked in my eyes.Something beeped.Fabric rustled.A man s voice said, Yeah? Over the phone, someone replied, You find her yet? From the corner of my eye, I saw Tully standing by the sedan with a phone pressed tohis ear. No.Whoever she is, she s fast, James Wormer said. Bring it in, then.We need to get back.I want to be there when they question thatasshole. Wormer snickered, and the sound sent shivers up my spine. I m on my way.Afterwhat he did to Rufus, I want to hear that crazy fucker scream. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the exquisite agony in my leg using it to staygrounded and ignore my urge to leap out of the bushes and pound Wormer s face into the pavement.Seconds ticked away.Car engines rumbled.Horns honked.Two doorsslammed.I looked again.The sedan was driving toward the parking lot exit.Briefly, I considered chasing it, but once the car made it to the road, I d have no chanceof following.Handlers and Triads didn t have one specific meeting place noclubhouse or police barracks or underground vault.Except for Boot Camp, whichenjoyed a quiet corner of the forest south of the city, secured facilities for questioningand detaining Dregs changed on a monthly basis.They could question Wyatt anywherein the city.I had no Handler, no car, and no clue as to my next move.I climbed out of the bushesand stretched my aching leg.Long hours before dusk stretched out in front of me, but Icouldn t wait.I had to do something.Just not alone.Evangeline Stone had no remaining allies [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Myankle was numb, probably leaving a trail of blood for anyone with two eyes to follow,but I couldn t stop to wrap it.I had to keep going.To get away before they had mecornered.I burst through the first-floor door and emerged in a dimly lit lobby.An elderly womanstared at me over her cane.Her mouth dropped open, and a thoroughly gummed cigarfell to the threadbare carpet.I tore past her, toward bright sunlight and a pair of doubleglass doors.Past a row of metal mailboxes and a closed door with Manager printed inchoppy block letters.Back outside into warm spring air.And the wail of police sirens.The west wall of the apartment building butted up against a grubby mom-and-popgrocery.The windows were papered with ads dated two years ago, but still advertising Fresh! And Cheap! produce.I stopped on the cracked sidewalk, under the protectionof a red vinyl canopy, and tried to catch my breath.Calm my heart.Think straight. My teeth ached, and I finally noticed that at some point during my flight, I d bittendown on the handle of my serrated knife probably right before I climbed the fireescape and it was still clenched in my teeth.I slipped it back into its sheath, and thenchecked my other ankle.My shoe was soaked, but the graze had stopped bleeding,leaving behind an angry red gash.A quick sidewalk check revealed no trail.The sirens grew louder, bouncing over from the opposite block.Distant reminders thatI d left Wyatt behind.Alone.A figure emerged from the apartment s lobby door, but he looked the other way first.Iducked into the grocery store, assaulted by frigid air and the yeasty odor of bread.Twoancient checkout counters marked the front of the shop.I smiled at the clerk a blandgirl no older than sixteen.She smiled and returned to her magazine.I slipped down the first aisle, making tracks to the back room.Two rows over, I spotteda swinging Employees Only door.A bell jingled at the front of the store.My stomachchurned.I pushed through, urged onward by fear and a feral need to avoid capture.Icouldn t help Wyatt if I were in matching handcuffs, or dead for the second time.The stockroom reeked of rotting vegetables and stale water, thick and nauseating.But Iignored the stench and navigated a path past a small office hearing the sounds ofheavy breathing, which told me where the rest of the staff was to another door.Thisone was next to a loading dock.The wires on the emergency handle were cut.Theemployees probably used it regularly.A tentative nudge proved me correct.I pushed itopen far enough to get a peek into the back lot.The loading dock was blocked off by three metal Dumpsters.A ten-foot chain fence,topped by razor wire, separated the narrow alley from the lot behind it.The BurgerPalace was on my right, catty-corner from my position, line of sight obscured.I duckedoutside, staying as close to the trash cans as I could manage without vomiting from theodor of rotting meat and produce.Then I ducked past them to the fence.Between the scratchy branches of two unruly bushes, I could see part of the parking lot.Wyatt s car was still in its spot, flanked by the two black sedans, all four doors thrownopen.Two men about my (former) age were searching it Hunters I vaguelyrecognized, mostly from instinct.The way they moved, analyzed, and searched for clueswas instinctual, calculated, and deadly.Rufus sat on the curb, holding an ice pack against his jaw.A man in a smart suit aHandler named Willemy, if I recalled correctly crouched in front of him, his handsmoving in circles as he talked.Rufus kept shaking his head, saying little.The one person I needed to see was missing.He could be in one of those tinted sedans,bound and ready for transport elsewhere.Would he have resisted and forced them totake desperate action? No, he wouldn t risk getting himself killed.Not now.I justneeded to see it with my own eyes.A telephone rang.Willemy fished in his jacket pocket and retrieved his cell.Hisdrooping frown morphed into sheer delight.He snapped the phone shut and saidsomething to Rufus, who nodded, silent.I squinted at him.From that distance, I couldn t tell if he was out of sorts from my punch, or if he was just a good actor.Willemy seemed finished with him for the time being.He stood up and faced therestaurant.The side door swung open.Nadia Stanislavski and Philip Tully emerged, one on eitherside of Wyatt.His hands were cuffed behind his back, and he walked straight.Nolimping or dragging, no marks that I could see.Sharp pain lanced through my palm; Iloosened my fist, releasing nails from indented flesh.They led him toward the closest sedan.He looked straight ahead, giving nothing.If heexpected me to be there somewhere, waiting for him, watching in the wings, he gave noindication.He would have yelled and cursed had he known I was crouching in thebushes instead of putting miles between us.I wanted to let him know I was there, togive some suggestion of my presence, but I remained a silent spectator, watching asthey ushered him into the car and slammed the door.Nadia slid into the front seat of Wyatt s car.Rufus climbed in next to her.She followedthe black sedan out of the parking lot, taking Wyatt away.One car remained behind, asdid Tully.He was perched on the hood, waiting for & who? The person who d chasedafter me, most likely.If the entire Triad had come after its Handler, that meant Wormerwas tracking me.Or had already lost me; I couldn t be sure.There were damn fewthings I could be certain of at that particular moment in time.My neck prickled.I held my breath.Soft leather soles whispered across the parkinglot s cracked blacktop, kicked the occasional pebble, and came to rest close by myposition.I didn t turn to look.Looking might rustle the bushes that protected me.Acramp lanced through my thigh.I bit my tongue, trying to distract myself from theagony I couldn t acknowledge.I needed to breathe.The footsteps moved past me.I let out a shaky breath, then inhaled slowly.My burninglungs wanted to cough.The cramp intensified; tears sparked in my eyes.Something beeped.Fabric rustled.A man s voice said, Yeah? Over the phone, someone replied, You find her yet? From the corner of my eye, I saw Tully standing by the sedan with a phone pressed tohis ear. No.Whoever she is, she s fast, James Wormer said. Bring it in, then.We need to get back.I want to be there when they question thatasshole. Wormer snickered, and the sound sent shivers up my spine. I m on my way.Afterwhat he did to Rufus, I want to hear that crazy fucker scream. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the exquisite agony in my leg using it to staygrounded and ignore my urge to leap out of the bushes and pound Wormer s face into the pavement.Seconds ticked away.Car engines rumbled.Horns honked.Two doorsslammed.I looked again.The sedan was driving toward the parking lot exit.Briefly, I considered chasing it, but once the car made it to the road, I d have no chanceof following.Handlers and Triads didn t have one specific meeting place noclubhouse or police barracks or underground vault.Except for Boot Camp, whichenjoyed a quiet corner of the forest south of the city, secured facilities for questioningand detaining Dregs changed on a monthly basis.They could question Wyatt anywherein the city.I had no Handler, no car, and no clue as to my next move.I climbed out of the bushesand stretched my aching leg.Long hours before dusk stretched out in front of me, but Icouldn t wait.I had to do something.Just not alone.Evangeline Stone had no remaining allies [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]