Chapter 10 - Part 3
Cammie's POV
Without another word, he grabs my hand and I try not to cringe at the feeling of the warm blood touching my skin. Instead, I squeeze back and follow his lead as he runs through the kitchen towards the back door. I let go and start to look for a key, opening drawers, but Zach soon stops me.
"No time," he says, and takes a few paces back from the door and braces himself as if he means to break down the door himself using only his force.
"No, Zach don't be stupid. Let me find a key." We can't risk injuries at this time whilst being chased down by people who killed an ex-FBI agent. I turn my back towards him rummaging through drawers, trying to avoid looking at the blood staining the palms of my hands. It's starting to congeal now, and the creases in my palms are now stained a deep maroon, the scent of iron filling my head. Before I can even start to feel slightly faint, I am ripped out of the spinning world as my hand wraps around the cold hard metal of a key that I pull out frantically.
"Cammie," Zach grunts out and I spin round to see him standing outside, the door previously in our way, now ripped off its hinges and lying broken in large shards on the floor.
"You idiot!" I exclaim in frustration as I throw the key in his direction with a little more force than necessary. It bounces off his chest and lies on the floor forgotten. I rush over to him and immediately put my hands on his shoulders and run them down the length of his arms. He holds himself awkwardly, in a way so that his shoulder is pulled up and tight. I focus on that shoulder and gently apply pressure, to which he winces and sucks in a short breath.
"You bloody idiot!" I stage whisper, "what part of don't be stupid do you not understand?" Zach flashes a quick grin even though I can tell through his eyes that he is in immense pain. "
You stupid, stupid idiot! How the hell are we meant to fight the bad guys if you are fricking injured? Huh? My ninja moves are below par right now, and I'm babbling, but please can we just get out of here now?" I can feel and hear my blood pounding in my head and that along with the constant beat of helicopter blades clouds my senses. It hits me. Josh is dead. An innocent, well, he was part of the FBI, innocence is an attribute rarely found in FBI agents, clearly demonstrated by the utter disregard they have for the Chameleon's life. We went to him for help, and now he is dead. He was someone's son, a nephew, and a grandson. And now all I can think of is that red dot from the sniper, and his lifeless eyes staring at me whilst his hand fell out of my grip. Oh god. Newbie grasps my hand, and I focus on his calloused hand surrounding mine.
I choke back a small sob as Zach immediately jerks me forward. The movement is so sudden I nearly trip over my feet. But he doesn't stop, and pulls me along roughly with sharp tugs as he navigates the neatly kept garden at the back of the large house. Taking in a shuddering breath I quicken my pace so that I am sprinting beside him and not behind him. I focus ob channelling my shock into anger and fury. Sad makes me confused, confused makes me furious, furious makes me frustrated. Fury at whoever is trying to kill us: fury for the Chameleon. I need to keep strong for Zach and not be a liability at this moment. God forbid I be the one to get us killed. I slowly tug my hand from his, to show him that I can be strong. He doesn't turn to me; his eyes are scanning for escape routes, for entrances and hiding places. Newbie reaches the gate first; my ankle boots are not appropriate footwear to have whilst running from people who have no qualms about killing FBI agents. Zach yanks it open, breaking it from its hinges with his raw strength. I try not to be surprised. He's an agent for god's sake. It must be in the training course. I can imagine it: Lesson 23: rip doors from hinges and barrel into them so hard that you break right on through them.
"Go. Now. Left." His monosyllabic commands wrench me out of my imagination, as I turn left down the road. I try to focus on my breathing, inhale, exhale, inhale, and exhale. I do not need a stitch right now. Ok Cams. You are in a race. 400m. Just down the road. Stupid Tina Walker is first, but only by a small margin, and all you have to do it keep running. Keep running so that when you reach her you can subtly slip out a foot and trip that bitch up and win. Just keep running. I hear the pounding of footsteps behind me, and soon enough Zach is beside me, his leather jacket flapping in the wind as he pumps his arms. I can't help but notice how his breathing is half as laboured as mine. I open my mouth to comment, but I can't speak. It is like all the air has been drawn out of me and now my mouth is parched. I have to stop. My lungs and limbs are burning. Jesus, I should have taken Sean's workout tip to heart.
"Stop." Zach skids to a halt and I slowly follow, folding myself in two to get the much-needed oxygen I crave. Breathing in the cool air I watch as Zach punches the window of a car parked on the road. It must be an old car as there is no loud obnoxious alarm ringing down the silent street. The only sounds I can hear are the tinkling of glass shards hitting the floor and the crunching of them under my feet. It is eerily silent, but I know that this is the calm before the storm. I mean, this is what always happens in the movies right?
"You drive, I shoot. Understand?" I stand up fully and regard Zach who runs to the other side of the car and yanks open the door. Without a second of doubt I jump into the car and my feet immediately find the pedals. He's going to jumpstart the car. I can tell this before he leans over the console with his arms outstretched, ripping out the panel concealing the red, green and blue wires we required. He rests his head in my lap as Newbie fiddles with the electrics. I can't see what he is doing; the big mop of brown copped flecked head of hair conceals everything. After a few curses and expletives, the car roars to life. It's only now that I realise what type of car I will be driving.
"A Prius?" I question disbelievingly, by my eyes are not deceiving me when I take in the silver letters spelled out on the steering wheel.
"Drive Blondie," Zach replies, as he pulls out his AF1 Pistol from his leather jacket. I put the car into gear as I drive out of the parking space.
"A fucking Prius Zach! Of all the cars to break into, you break into this old machine?" Before Zach can respond a black SUV pulls round the corner and starts to accelerate closer to us. "Shit. Zach!" I push hard on the accelerator, my foot reaching as far as it can to floor the pedal.
"Cammie." His voice is calm and quiet compared to the racket made by the engine at the speed I have forced it to go to. "Cammie," he repeats, placing a hand on my knee to stop it from jiggling up and down. It's a nervous tick of mine. "We'll be ok, all you need to do is keep calm, keep your foot on the accelerator. I'll stop them."
"You'll stop them? I shout incredulously and wince at the shrill edge of hysteria in my voice that is fuelled by panic. "How? How on earth are you going to stop them. "You're in a goddamn Prius. And not a fancy James Bond with missiles in the bloody headlight, ok? This car is about as deadly as an eighty five year old grandmother who couldn't kill a fly if you gave her a bazooka to shoot it with."
Zach supresses a chuckle whilst he stares at me nonplussed at my distress. He doesn't even turn his head to look at the approaching car in the wing mirrors. It's like he isn't fazed by it at all. Whereas I am staring straight ahead on the road, making sure I don't kill any unsuspecting pedestrians who just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Knowing me, I would probably stare at myself too; my facial expressions would probably be as deranged as my voice. I try to breath in, to ease the death clench I have on the steering wheel, but my foot stays tense on the accelerator. Without a sound, Zach turns around and begins to lower the passenger window by rotating the handle on the door. God, this car is ancient.
"Oh, of course," I mutter to myself. "Of course," I say again a little louder, "you're going outside to stop them. How stupid and goddamn sane of me, we're only going eighty down this death road!"
Zach twists around in his seat to face me, continuing to wind down the window till is falls all the way down into the door. The wind whips into the car; freeing my hair out of the loose ponytail I had previously thrown it in. This stresses my out more as strands of blonde hair in my face now suddenly throw my vision of the road. "I've done faster Blondie, there's no need to worry about me."
"I'm not worrying about you, I'm worrying about me and what I'll do if you fall off the roof and break every goddamn hated bone in your body!" I scream this now, the wind making it hard for me to hear my thoughts and Zach. But of course, again, he has done this before. He has probably done this in twelve inches of snow whilst driving downhill.
"Just keep your eyes on the road ok? I'm just going to go on the roof and check out what they are doing. Keep her steady for me." I nod and let the information sink in. Keep her steady. I watch Zach out of the corner of me eye, his legs wriggling as he propels his upper body out of the window so that he is able to grip onto the roof of the car with his forearms. Thank god there isn't any traffic on this road, I don't think my nerves could handle that. Seconds later, I can no longer see Zach, but I can hear him making dull sounds on the ceiling on top of me.
"Ok Cams, keep her steady, keep her steady." A loud bang launches me out of my little concentration bubble, and this is followed by the sound of machine gun fire.
"Fuck!" I scream as I think of Zach's corpse on top of the car, his body riddled with bullets. My hands involuntarily jerk leading the car to swerve to the left uncontrollably. I keep on screaming as I fight to gain control of the car, but I can't. She just won't turn right. Fucking Prius, old ancient grandma car. Of course he would bloody choose to break into this bloody machine. My hands strain as I yank desperately on the steering wheel, now that the metal barrier separating the road from the adjacent fields is rapidly approaching me. I give the wheel once last frantic tug but I'm suddenly thrown back into the seat violently, my neck experiencing whiplash as shards of glass rain down on me from the shattered windscreen. I have a high-pitched ringing in my ears, and my vision is slowly clouding over. Oh god no, I think. Please, no. I need to stay awake. I need to fight. But the black fuzz at the edges of my eyesight start to race inwards, blanking out more of my sight, leaving me helpless. My hands start to fumble around for the seatbelt, but it's zapping my energy. "Awake," I grunt out as I fight my weariness.
"Awake."
"Zach."
"Help."
"Zach."
"Cameron Ann Morgan."
I hear the sound of my name. And then I register a sharp stinging sensation on my cheek, blood rushing to its surface.
"No!" I hear a small soft protest in the background, a voice that sounds slightly recognisable. "Don't touch her," It speaks again, but then I feel the sting on my other cheek, and my head is thrown back forcefully. It sort of hurts now. I strain to open my eyelids; it feels like lead weights have been attached to them. As every second goes by, a sliver of what is before me is revealed. I first see grass. Vibrant green grass. It reminds me of eyes, emerald shining eyes. I wonder whom they belong to. I next see a pair of boots standing inches away from my face. I instantly jerk my head backwards away from them, but I'm rewarded with a sharp pain at the back of my skull.
"Oh no honey, don't do that. You've hit your head hard there." The endearment is strangely menacing. I don't like it. Sliver by sliver the world is shown to me. And dammit, I'm in a bad place. I'm lying on the ground face first, and standing next to me is a man dressed in all black combat gear, with a very frightening AK-47 lying comfortably in his hands. I'm surrounded by a dozen of these identical men. All holding AK-47's, except for these three guys who are holding back a familiar face.
"Zach," I croak out, cringing at the sound of my own voice.
"Blondie!" he shouts back, with relief evident in his voice. Well, at least he's happy I'm still alive. It's when I hear Zach's pained moan that I'm tugged out of my dazed state.
"Hit him again, she seems to respond to it." At the dry command, I hear Zach let out a strangled cry, and I can feel every cell in my body respond to that sad sound. I lift my head quickly, ignoring the flashes of pain darting at the back of my skull, and place my hands firmly on the grass to lift myself up onto my knees.
"Cameron Ann Morgan." The man in black asks me.
"Yes," I reply simply. I cannot make out any features of the man, he is completely swathed in black, black tactical glasses cover his eyes and his hands are clothed in black thick gloves.
"Cameron," he drawls out again, "honey."
I cringe at the use of that word. It sounds possessive. I look to my left and I can see Zach held back by three black men. He's thrashing about viciously, but three against one makes his odds weak. I remember his injured shoulder, and the punches to his gut must be aching. But when his eyes lock onto mine, I still receive a sense of relief from him. This confuses me.
"Cameron." The man speaks again, drawing out my name and letting the vowels roll around his tongue like a sport announcer would do when announcing a name.
"Very intriguing. It's wonderful to meet you again after all these years."
"What?" I stutter out. I haven't seen this man anywhere before, I would recognise his voice: thick, gravelly, like someone had starved him of water for decades.
"It's wonderful to be reunited now."
"I don't know what you are on about sir, but I don't know you."
"You wouldn't do dear, it's been many years. And my, you have gotten so wonderful beautiful in those years." The man leans down and with a glove donned hand sweeps his large hand across my jaw tenderly. My immediate reaction is to lurch away, but before I can escape his grasp he grasps my chin roughly and jerks me into place making me squint in pain as I feel his fingertips leave bruises.
"Tut, tut, Cameron. Let me look at you." I comply, looking up and steeling my eyes. I watch myself in the reflection of his black tactical goggles and mentally appraise my face. The areas around his fingers on my chin are turning a slight shade of pink, and I have several small abrasions around my face that have picked up dirt, the blood and dirt mixing to create a grimy dark maroon.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his lips pulling back to reveal perfect white teeth, unmarked and unblemished. Breaking his gaze, he turns to one of the other guards and gives a small imperceptible nod. Without a word spoken, the man approaches, his gun knocking against his body menacingly. Slowly, he reaches into a pocket, hidden under a multitude of black fabric, and pulls out a syringe, one with a small needle and filled with ominous clear and colourless liquid. Oh shit. No. This is like Agent Ward all over again. At the sight of the injecting vessel I start thrashing around, but not before strong arms are wrapped around my midriff, locking me in place and preventing any harm coming from my wild hits.
"No, no, no," I repeat softly as I shrink away from the men who are now conversing quietly under their voices, and I watch the syringe move from one man to the other.
"Zach!" I yell, as they approach, no more than fifteen feet away. I hear no response.
But when I throw my panicked glance over to him, I catch him just as he throws his head back into the nose of one of his captor's and it gives a sickening crunch as bone crushes under bone. His hands are still behind his back, and his face in wrought with concentration as the man previously holding him stumbles back with a bloody nose. Zach jumps up, bringing his legs to his chest so that he can swing his linked hands in front of him. He lands on the first man's back, forcing him to let out a short scream. It is cut short when a belt swings around and his mouth is jammed with leather. Zach spins on one hell and gives the second man a roundhouse kick to the chest, sending him back into the ground. The third man manages to get up to his hands and knees, and with a low grunt, Zach gives him a swift kick in the ass, sending his head into the dirt, slumping unconscious. Overhead, a helicopter sounds in the distance, and it mustn't be for the enemy, as I can detect a sense of fear in the body language of the men in black. Zach proceeds to engage the other guards, whilst I lie helpless on the floor, my hands bounds and my bones aching.
"Shizer," the man mutters, turning away from me, facing the oncoming bird in the sky, its rotors slowing down, indicating its want to land near us. In a flash, the man bounds forward towards me, jerks my head to the side revealing my neck, and plunging the needle straight into my jugular vein, eliciting a cry from me. Barely a second passes, before he rips the needle out of my neck and bounds away to the black SUV which is waiting with its engine running. Within seconds I can feel my muscles relaxing, and I slump forward so that once more, I am lying on the floor my face pressed against the cool grass. My face in yanked up, and I look up into the face of Zach. I scrunch my eyebrows together as I notice his hair whipping wildly side to side from the wind generated by the oncoming helicopter. By the way Zach seems indifferent to it, I assume it is friendly rather than foe.
"We're alive," I say, breaking out into a huge smile, which I see replicated in his face. Without warning, he pulls me off the ground and wraps me in his arms tightly, squeezing the little breath I possessed out of me.
"Jesus," I mutter, overwhelmed with his eagerness and the sheer newness of it all. Also, the searing pain that flows through my previously injured shoulder, and the new injuries I had obtained makes me shudder, but I hope Zach is oblivious to it, because to be surrounded by warmth is quite a nice feeling, especially considering the circumstances.
"That's very nice of you, but Zach will do," he says into my hair before releasing me. He extends his arms and I grab onto his hands, allowing me to be pulled up off the ground and to stand up for once in a very long time.
"You good?"
My limbs ache, my vision clouds over with spots, but I persevere through the cloudiness and give him a convincing smile and a nod. I can't see if he believes it, I can barely see through the pain. I am vaguely away of his arm slipping behind my waist, and my arm being slung over his shoulders so that I am leaning on him fully. All I focus on it the black smudge ahead of me, which I hope to God, is the helicopter. I focus on the roaring sound of the rotor blades as they whir above.I focus on keeping my steps even, to convince Zach that I am ok. I can make it to the helicopter. But after what feels like the umpteenth time I have stumbled on my feet, I feel like I don't seem to be doing a great job convincing Zach enough. He comes to a stop, and I do as well. I turn my head to look at him, ignoring that little spark of pain at the base of my skull. Looking into his eyes, I give a stubborn shake of my head. I know where he is going with this look. It is one thing to lean on him – it was quite another to let him bear the whole burden of my fragility.
"You're hurt too," I murmur quietly.
"Yeah, sorry Blondie, that wasn't a request," he replies, his words slipping into a small sigh as he lifts me off my feet. I yelp his name, grabbing onto his shoulders quickly. God, it feels so good to take the weight off my legs and to be surrounded by that warmth once more, cradled against the powerful heat of Zach's chest.
"So is this what it's like to be this tall huh?" I murmur against his chest and feel his chuckle rather than hear it. "You were pretty awesome back there. Thank you," I say, as I close my eyes, no longer resisting the pull to fall asleep.
"I know. It really is exhausting to be so awesome all the time." I smile, and say no more. It takes up too much energy.
"Be careful," I hear Zach say, just before I'm jostled out of his arms and into another pair. This man must be huge because I feel like a baby in his arms. I struggle to open my eyes and I reach out my hand for Zach. I want Newbie.
"Shh," a voice soothes, "Zach just needs to be checked over ok? Everything is fine. You are safe now Cammie. You're safe."
And at those muttered words of assurance, I succumb to unconsciousness.
A/N: Well. That was quite intense. Hope you enjoyed! Please let me know! :)