Author's Notes: Do not fear, I'm still alive! (ducks to avoid rotten fruit and chairs). Sorry for the very late update, but I've been recovering from having all 4 wisdom teeth removed. The painkillers made me drowsy and uncoordinated, I had to catch up on my studies afterwards (plus assignments and tests coming out of my ears and mental block, afterwards). Although, overall it was less painful then having my braces put in.
NOTE: I will NEVER abandon a story without at least seeing if someone wants to continue it. If I leave it too long without updating, feel free to tell me to get my lazy ass into gear through FFNs Reviews or Private Messages (both automatically go to my e-mail, so I can't miss them).
Previously on A Race to Protect:
The group wouldn't need the lockpick. The sturdy lump of metal that was supposed to be attached to the handles of the door was lying on the ground, shattered and useless. There was no way that a building this protected would have a broken lock not dealt with once it was found. There was only one logical explanation: someone had beaten them to Jake.
A Race to Protect
Chapter 9: Call for Help
Night, about 1am, the building Jake was put in to recover.
Being a leader by nature, her rise into the role within the peculiar crew was automatic when they were first thrust into this crisis. Even Loa was looking to her for guidance, it showed by his acceptance of her instructions throughout the ordeal. She couldn't afford to loose her cool, especially now. Thorn took a deep breath to calm herself as her brain worked feverishly for a course of action. Maybe one of the night guards had seen or heard something that would indicate where the thieves had taken Jake, or the crooks might have dropped something. The girl spun on her heels to face her comrades.
"We've been beaten to him," the first few words out of mouth were for the boys' benefit, again ignorant of what had transpired. "Follow me and keep your eyes open, we might find clues as to how they left or where they've gone." Without waiting for the news to sink in, Huntsgirl pulled the door open and stalked through. She was determined to find something, even if she had to threaten it out of the guards.
The trail to the burglars' destination was easy to follow. The lights had been left on and the few security guards they came across were out cold. They eventually arrived at a room where thick metal bars sealed off about half the space. The lock had been ripped off and the door was still ajar, its occupant long gone. Thorn entered the cage and shifted the mattress with her staff, just to check if the original intruders had left anything behind.
A glint of what looked like polished metal lying under a tipped chair caught her eye. The object was about the size of her hand; rotating her wrist around, Thorn discovered that it was a phone. Excited, she flipped it open, hoping to find a link to the kidnappers. There was one new message on it. As her eager eyes read the print, Huntsgirl realised that it didn't belong to the captors.
Her muttered curses drew the others' attention away from their own search. "They have Clarkson, too." The adolescent waved the device to show how she knew.
An unknown location.
Stars danced in Jake's vision as his skull hit the cage for the fifth time. Once he had regained consciousness, his first priority was to get out of the cramped space. Easier said then done.
The dragon couldn't open his mouth to bite or melt it, so he was reduced to ramming it. To be honest, Jake preferred the steel room with guards and tazzas to this box. The cage resembled those small meshed animal traps, only bigger and thicker wire. He had hoped the metal wouldn't hold up to his weight. To bad for him that it did.
With nothing to show for his efforts except a splitting headache, the teenager flopped down on his stomach and stared at the opposite wall in frustration. It seemed each time he woke up from being knocked out, he was in a worse situation then before. At least prior to now he could move. In this metal crate he couldn't sit up (let alone stand), turn around or spread his wings (the fact that he had a sprained wing was beside the point).
"Finally, I thought he was going to give himself a concussion before he quit. Seriously Anne, I think you've overstated the overgrown lizards' mental capacity." The mocking comment came from his second priority; Lindsey had a date with his fist.
The vet was currently watching him with amusement while casually eating dinner at a nearby table. Anne had her legs and arms duck-taped to the second chair and glaring daggers at her former co-worker. The adolescent was certain that given the chance, Clarkson would run that fork down the bitch's throat and dump the body overboard (he assumed they were on a ship due to the small rolls and pitches).
"Don't look at me like that, Anne. I'm actually doing him a favour. Do you think those paper-pushing feds are going to let him fly away once he gets better? No, they'd confiscate him and stick him in a cage for the rest of his life. Which won't be that long 'cause when they've finished all the tests they can think of, he'll be on a dissection table."
Jake shivered at the thought. Somehow, I don't think those guys would give a hoot if I even opened my yap to' em. He also realised that nobody could help him if the Feds did get him because the government could generally do whatever the hell it wanted to do out of the public eye. That was a very sobering thought. Anne still looked defiant, but she was a little green from the images that were no doubt floating around in her mind.
"Where he's going, he might be made into a nice wall hanging or boots. But that's after he dies of old age. It seems that one of those eccentric old goats in England spotted one of these things in Africa while he was on safari. He thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world and tried to get closer for a snap-shot. Stupid old geezer didn't think it'd mind the flash and got chased up a tree. All right for lions, rhinos and such, not so good for something that flies. It shot off with his camera, probably thinking it'd showed him who's boss."
Lindsey ended in a long chuckle, suggesting that the version she had received was more elaborate and funnier. Despite the circumstance, the young dragon found it amusing, and by the small snort that Anne made, so did she.
"One of his friends that he went with is in New York and gave him a buzz. He knew what was gonna happen to him, despite whatever you did. He organised the lot. As far as the cooke was concerned, no one was going to 'abuse such a magnificent animal merely to satisfy stuffed-shirts that haven't been outside their own backyard'. Once the sun's up, we're off."
Jake tried to pay attention to the rest of the woman's speech, but he was more concerned about an annoying fact about being a creature with scales. Pressing his side onto the mesh, he tried to rub the irritating spot on his flank. Usually, Hayley or his mother would help rub him down with a damp towel to remove loose scales. If this wasn't done every few days (even if he had stayed human during that time) he would start to itch, quite badly. The result of scratching the itches were partly loose scales coming off and leaving small bleeding areas that itched even more. Within the confined space, all he could do was rub against the wire and hope that he didn't start bleeding.
Author's Notes: I got the scales itching idea from the episode Young At Heart, when Jake goes to his sister for help and she tells him "I'm not going to wax your scales again", or something like that. It also makes logical and practical sense when you think about it.
