Eight


"He was definitely here," Brennan reported as he re-joined his team-mates in the Helix, parked in stealth mode by a disused warehouse on the edge of town. "The desk guy at the motel recognised him from a few days ago, though from the look of the place I'd have to hope Jess was wishing he'd found somewhere else to hide out. It's a complete dive."

"And you'd know about that," Shalimar muttered, frustration getting the better of her again even though she also had to acknowledge this was good news. She'd been charging around like a bull in a china shop, Emma in tow trying her best to calm her down. Not surprisingly, that approach hadn't elicited too much in the way of positive responses from the local populace. But Brennan had, it seemed, had better luck, despite his growing unwillingness for the task.

"I hope you know what we're doing," he'd grumbled as Shalimar had chivvied him out into the chill pre-dawn air at their third stop of the night. 'Cos I definitely didn't hear him say 'come get me'. In fact, you know what? I didn't actually hear him say anything!"

"He didn't have to say the words," she'd said defiantly. "The fact he even came on-line after so long is enough. He'd only have done that if he wanted us to know he needs us."

"If it was even him... Hey," he'd gone on at her frown, "believe me, I want to know he's OK as much as you do. But you have to admit, without a voice it could have been anyone. The com-link needs Jess' DNA to go live, but that doesn't mean it was him activating it."

But neither Shalimar nor Emma had been prepared to join him in speculating further on how anyone might have acquired both the ring and the necessary DNA without their owner's collusion. Instead, the feral had become even more focused on her mission, and even more determined that everyone around her should do the same.

Most of the places they'd visited so far had been small - one long main drag with a few tree-lined side streets and clusters of clapboard houses clinging to the thin divide between civilisation and the open countryside. The mainstay of their investigations had been ubiquitous motels, or boarding houses in those places too diminutive to warrant anything more substantial, though they'd also checked out whatever eating establishments and local garages that had been open on the basis that, wherever their missing friend was heading, he'd be needing fuel - both for him and his transport.

That this was no longer the Ducati they'd spent the last few weeks keeping a virtual lookout for had been the major discovery a few stops back - one of the larger settlements, boasting a small industrial estate, the biggest array of shops and restaurants yet, and enough nooks and crannies for a man to lay low in to keep them occupied for several hours.

Standing on a street corner, taking stock of the world around them, Shalimar had alarmed her companions by suddenly yelping and taking off down the block. Hurrying after her, they were just able to see her hurl herself at a slim man in ripped jeans, battered leather jacket and full-face helmet, who was in the process of starting up a motorbike. A bike last seen disappearing with Jesse, Brennan had quickly realised, though it was equally obvious the feral's prey wasn't who she'd hoped and expected. Her body language went instantly from playful to aggressive as she dragged the man bodily off the bike and slammed him against a nearby wall while she ripped open the visor and snarled into his frightened features. By the time the others reached her, pulling her away before the altercation drew too much unwanted attention, she'd got all the information he was able to give her on where and how he'd come by the machine.

Sadly, none of it had proved particularly helpful, beyond pointing them to an illicit-looking back street bike repair shop in yet another town where the ferret-featured proprietor had strenuously denied all knowledge of Jesse's future plans. Given that Brennan's fist had been waving threateningly under his nose at the time they'd been inclined to believe him, which had left them with no alternative but to go back to picking random place names off the map.

But now they had another sighting to add to the mix and, as the elemental was quick to point out, that gave them two points of reference to use to extrapolate where their elusive friend might have been heading next.

"If he was there last week and here on Wednesday," Emma said thoughtfully, tapping at the map displaying on the monitor they were poring over, "he'd have to be heading south west."

"Unless he's just going round in circles, like us," Brennan muttered, earning himself a none too gentle elbow in the ribs that left him rubbing ruefully at his side as he went on. "Oh yeah, I forgot, this is Jess we're talking about - single-minded to the last. So it's straight on 'til morning, right? That would make..." He leant in to check the name attached to one of the dark blobs indicating an urban mass. "...Willston the next attraction on our little tour?"

There was no response beyond the sound of both women returning to their seats in preparation for take off.


**

As afternoon drew towards evening, so Jesse was drawn back to where he'd left the car, slouching up the darkening street to the small and secluded chain-link fenced parking lot behind a row of early-closing shops. His introspective mood, intensified by another soul-destroying day, kept him from noticing that he had company until he was at the entrance - a small group of teenage boys were huddled by the wall in the far corner, and from the raised voices they weren't just enjoying a quiet clandestine smoke.

From what he could see from the quick glance he threw their way as he turned towards the parked Ford, three or four older kids were clustered aggressively round a smaller figure, jeering and goading him for some reason that he couldn't hear clearly enough to comprehend. But he understood the tone and intent of their barrage all too well, and the scars of similar situations he'd carried since childhood had him moving their way in a knee-jerk reaction before he could stop himself.

'Walk away,' he told himself firmly, bringing himself up short. 'Just kids being kids, none of your business.' But even as he forced his attention back to his car, the younger boy suddenly broke free from his tormenters with a fear-filled yell and scrambled in his direction, seemingly swept up and carried along on the scream of, "You're dead, man!" that echoed around from behind him.

The street lights chose that moment to flicker to life, illuminating the terrified expression on the kid's face. But it also gave Jesse a clear view of the look of naked hatred twisting the features of the tallest of the remaining gang members - and worse, glinted menacingly off the blued metal of the gun he pulled from the waistband of his jeans and aimed shakily their way.

In that moment everything changed as, with a blinding flash of self-realisation, he recognised what he had to do.

It had nothing to do with caring about those involved - the motivation was far too selfish for that. It was simply that he knew if he didn't do something to help, he'd never be able to come to terms with who he was now. And he couldn't bear the thought of hating himself even more than he already did.

So, without allowing himself time to think about it further, he reached to grab the boy's arm as he drew alongside and swung him round into the shelter of his body, as he'd done so many times before in so many other places.

Instinct cried out to him to take a breath, to mass himself so as to protect them both. But the countering pull of the new way of 'being' he'd immersed himself in so thoroughly the past weeks demanded that he do nothing of the sort, and the two effectively cancelled each other out, leaving him without the impetus to do more than stand staring in sick fascination as the gun fired. Time slowed in that way it does in the movies when something momentous is happening, and it seemed to him he could actually see the bullet spiralling lazily through the air directly towards him, could measure its progress in long seconds rather than the instant it should take.

Right up to the moment it entered his chest with a flash of white hot agony and a spurt of crimson globules that hung in the air, only to succumb to gravity and splash groundward as time telescoped back to normal. The world grew suddenly full of loud noises and confused shadowy movements and a warm wetness seeping through the fabric of his shirt in harmony with the spreading numbness that drained the strength from his legs, sending him lurching sideways down onto the unforgiving surface of the lot.

Bright shiny pain blossomed through him on impact, robbing him of the ability to move or even think, although somewhere distantly he knew there was still something important he needed to finish. But all he could do was lie there on the cold ground with his cheek pressed into the gravel, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Small cautious hands touched him, tugging at him, and somewhere very far off a voice asked if he was all right. With a groan he toppled over onto his back, but that did nothing to improve matters - in fact, it just made it worse. Breathing became too hard, as if his lungs were filling with liquid, his chest tightening around his increasingly shallow gasps for air that simply wouldn't come.

As the noise surrounding him dwindled and his peripheral vision faded, he locked his gaze desperately on the frightened young face that floated in the hazy light above him.

"Forgive me," he whispered, and the world ebbed away to nothing.


****

TBC