Chapter Nineteen:
Charlie hated walking.
She hated the heavy duffel bag on her back.
She hated the endless miles of asphalt that slowly wore away of soles of her shoes.
She hated the smell of exhaust and rubber.
She hated the unhealthy, straggly trees lining the roadways.
She hated the stares of the passing motorists, even if she could not see their faces.
Nothing had meaning. Nothing had purpose. Nothing mattered.
The only thing keeping her from stepping into traffic were the voices in her head, memories of her father urging her on, encouraging each step, waking her up because they had to run...
Charlie really hated walking.
Once, when she was younger, she had considered trying to steal a car. Not anything fancy, just a junker from some dealership that would not miss it for a few days. Something that could get her farther in a few hours than she could get in a week.
But, it would have been wrong. It was wrong to steal. Sometimes she would manipulate ATM machines for cash if she needed it, if she was desperate. But she could not bring herself to physically break into an automobile and drive off. Her morals may have been screwed up by her shitty life... but she still tried to stick by them.
Charlie pushed on, trying not to think about anything but her destination. The cold. The snow. Some peaceful, empty place where she could just stop. Just rest. God, all she wanted to do was rest.
The interstate was not congested, but Charlie felt a familiar sense of claustrophobia settling around her. Danger was still close by. She was slowly accepting the fact that she was going to have to face those men from the train station again before this was over.
River Mead had been too much. She must have really scared somebody, maybe some high-ranking somebody alarmed enough to dispatch a team to find her already. Last time, it had been nearly a month before she noticed the unmarked cars passing through town. But those had been Rainbird's spies. Rainbird had been cunning, trying to lure her to him with the promise of money from a bogus company.
Whoever was in charge of those men in the station was obviously not concerned with subtly.
Let them know this is a war, Charlie, her father's dying words rang heartbreakingly in her mind, Let them know this is a war... if that's what they want... then give it to them...
At the next exit, Charlie headed off the highway. The green sign directing travelers toward the next town burst into flames as she walked passed. She was quite finished with subtlety herself.
Once she was upon a secondary road, Charlie continued to set random road signs on fire. Startled drivers veered and curved away from the flames, but Charlie simply kept walking.
She really hated walking. No. She hated running.
And the time for running was over.
Creed smelled the smoke first.
Logan was still engrossed in his maps, planning, strategizing. The man did not rely on his own senses and instincts nearly enough, in Creed's opinion.
The scent stirred something ferial in the blonde assassin, and he hit the accelerator until their speed began to top ninety.
Logan growled angrily at Creed's recklessness, "Slow the hell down. We don't need local P.D. on our ass if..."
His voice trailed off. Logan breathed in deeply through his nose. He smelled it now too. Fire, the sharp scent of burning metal. It was getting stronger as they drove closer to the source of the flames.
When they reached the next exit, Creed pulled the car out of the main flow of traffic. The second vehicle carrying Fisk and Dolarhyde also slowed to a halt.
Logan slowly got out of the vehicle and walked toward the burning sign. Creed was on his heels, jerking his head from side to side as if he expected an attack at any moment. The other three Carnivores were close by, each studying the sign curiously.
"Don't tell me our little girl did this?" Fisk asked with amusement, his booming voice rumbling with laughter.
"She's frightened," Dolarhyde chimed in, his face dead-pan, "She letting her gifts get away from her. No discipline..."
"This wasn't an accident," Creed said with anxious glee.
"Are you kidding?" Fisk replied, "Chick's gotta be scared shitless now that she knows were looking for her..."
"Clever prey," Creed said, "Just clever prey..."
"Come on, man," Fisk argued, "Why would she just run off and leave us a big 'bitch-was-here' sign? Unless..."
He paused, glancing around at the others with dawning comprehension. Fisk was the youngest of their group, still wet behind the ears, no matter how many men he had killed. The others were predators by nature, and it took Fisk a moment to realize what they were thinking.
"Unless..." Logan continued for him after a short span of silence, "She wanted us to see this. Unless she knows we are still following her. This isn't an accident, gentlemen..."
Logan glanced toward Creed, who grinned broadly with anticipation, and then turned his eyes back to the fire.
"This is a declaration of war."
