A big thanks to all those who've been reading and I really appreciate all the feedback and reviews.
As always, huge thanks to Alaidh and I really am trying to remember that it's not 'camping ground' but 'campground.'
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DEEP
CHAPTER 14
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Max ran as fast as she could through the forest, at first making as much noise as possible as she weaved through the tress. She only let up on her speed here and there to snatch at some branches as she went by, bending or snapping them. She didn't know how good the black-coated guys would be at following a trail, but she wasn't going to take any chances.
At first Max could hear the sound of her pursuers, but within minutes the only sound she could hear was her own steady breathing as she ran.
Max remembered the adrenalin rush she'd always felt at Manticore during Escape and Evade exercises. She'd always been good at it. This time it was different. It wasn't just about her. Maybe this is why Zack's always so glum.
Reaching the plateau where the ruins of the homestead stood, Max paused and took stock of the situation. She felt reasonably sure that she'd achieved her objective in leading the black-coated men away from Logan. She'd certainly tried to make it as obvious as possible that she was heading in that direction.
Her main concern now was to get to Logan. She was sure that he would have heard the gunfire – It'd be just like him to go all heroic and think he'd have to have my back.
With Logan's laptop clutched under her arm, Max plunged back into the forest. This time she was careful to remain undetected and leave no trace of her presence. Running at full speed, she circumvented the campground until she was able to approach the site, where she'd left the VW van, from the opposite direction.
Stopping to draw breath behind a tree, she quickly scanned the campsite. The VW looked to be exactly as she'd left it. Of Logan there was no sign. Again.
"Logan!" she called in a loud whisper, waiting hopefully for a reply.
Nothing.
Logan, I'm so gonna kick your ass if you swung back looking for me. "Logan!" she called again, this time a little louder, a trace of annoyance tingeing the tone.
"Max!"
She stepped out from behind her tree as she saw him emerge from a narrow path between some leafy bushes on the other side. She had to quickly hide a grin – he was filthy from head to toe. He looked miserable.
"Hey, how yah doin'?" she called to him, still trying to suppress a smile.
"I'm okay," he called abruptly to her across the clearing, then, after a slight pause, "my leg hurts a bit, that's all."
Everything in Max froze. The hint of laughter vanished.
"That's a bitch," she replied coolly, but she didn't break her stride as she walked towards him.
She could see the warning look in his eyes, telling her to come no closer.
"Yep, it's always the same one." He placed the slightest stress on the last word.
Okay. One perp. But where is he, Logan?
As if reading her mind his eyes flickered to his right.
Max's mind was racing. Logan no longer had his gun on his lap. She had to presume he had a gun trained on him. What was the game? Was the guy waiting for her to come within range? Damn - things were becoming complicated.
"I ran into some whack-jobs back there," she continued easily as her eyes restlessly probed the trees and bushes behind him for a sign of what they were up against…and there it is
She'd never hated Lydecker more than at that moment. She remembered the complete lack of emotion on his face…the gun in his hand…Eva falling to the floor.
Max blinked and shook her head. Get a grip, Max, she raged at her mind silently.
With a rush of relief, the image wavered into nothingness, leaving its calling card of sweaty palms and a racing heart.
"Max?" Logan's voice called to her. She could see him watching her closely. She knew he'd caught her spacing for that split second. Her eyes went purposely back to the gun she'd seen protruding from the bushes. It was trained on Logan's back.
"Yeah, they were aiming to jack your laptop. Who woulda thunk – thieves up here?" Her breathing steadied. She was back on track.
"You should have stayed away from the car," Logan told her meaningfully. His eyes flashed her another warning. She obviously wasn't playing this the way he'd wanted…which is why I never agreed to be your field commander.
"Ask Zack, he'll tell you I'm no good with orders."
Logan looked at her with frustration. She was now no more than four yards from him, not directly in front but slightly to his right. He'd done everything he knew to stop her from walking into a trap. Not daring to move forward an inch, his grip on his wheels tightened.
It was at that precise moment that all hell broke loose.
With a loud yell, Max charged forward – heading straight at the gun. Logan twisted instinctively and looked behind him, just in time to see the barrel swiftly change directions and aim at the more threatening protagonist.
"Max!" Without thought he copied Max by yelling out then spun around and headed towards the gun. Immediately the barrel swung back to him.
The thought crossed his mind that this probably wasn't the smartest move he'd ever made as the perp suddenly stood up and purposefully squeezed the trigger.
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Max quickly straddled the man's chest, pinning both arms beneath her legs and proceeded to alternately smash each fist into the man's jaw until she heard a voice say, "Max. You're gonna kill him."
She turned her head to stare at him, not sure if her intensity of emotion was some dredged up Manticore response or simply due to the closeness of the call. A look of disgust crossed her face. Whether directed towards the perp or herself, Logan wasn't sure, but her next words were definitely directed towards him as she jumped up.
"What the hell was that stunt you just pulled?"
Not expecting the attack, Logan looked up at her. "The stunt I pulled?" he asked incredulously. "What about you? I warned you to stay away!"
"Logan, I had the guy aiming at me for a reason!" Max retorted, pulling back the unconscious man's jacket to find Logan's gun tucked in his waistband.
"What, you're 'SuperMax' now? I don't remember anything about X5s being bullet-proof!"
Glaring eyes met briefly before Max held out his gun for him to take, saying in an urgent tone, "Come on. We've got to get to the van. That gunshot could have the whole pack of black-coats descending on us."
"What about him?" Logan asked with a jerk of his head as he moved forward.
"I'll see to him. You head to the van."
Logan had only gone a short way when Max caught up. "He'll be in la la land for hours," she told Logan with satisfaction.
"What happened back there, anyway?" he asked tersely.
"Guys with guns."
Logan frowned. "What guys?"
"No time," she called to him curtly, heading around to the passenger side door of the VW and opening it wide. "I'll tell you while we drive. Jump in the van."
"You followed?" Logan asked as he grabbed his bag, handing it and his gun into Max's waiting, outstretched hand.
"Hope not – otherwise this baby'll need wings," Max replied, giving the van an affectionate whack with her open hand.
"This baby can hardly crawl," Logan muttered as he hauled himself into it.
"Maybe it's got some moves you don't know about," Max suggested, as she wasted no time sliding open the back door and stowing his gear and chair.
"Right," snorted Logan, snapping his seatbelt in place with difficulty. The buckle didn't seem to want to catch, at first.
Logan fumbled and finally got the belt secured while Max swiftly tied the door shut and started the van.
"What's your plan?" Logan asked her as he silently willed the engine to catch.
"I'm still working on one," Max admitted. "But a quick getaway seems like the best idea, for now. That's it," she grinned across at him triumphantly as the engine finally started its distinctive chug.
Logan winced as it backfired twice as Max accelerated. "That's not good."
Max appeared unconcerned. Now that they were moving she felt less tense. Logan noticed how the adrenalin rush made her eyes sparkle. For his part all he felt was uneasy. Guys with guns, Max had said. Her meaning when she'd turned on him before had been clear - bullets, easy for Max to evade, maybe, but let's face it Logan, your track record in that department hasn't been good. Logan drew breath – things were becoming way too complicated.
"Max, we need to get outta here."
"Finally!"
"Hey, you're the one that said we should stay."
"Only 'cause I figured you were too stubborn to leave."
"You're not heading for my car?" Logan queried, noting they were heading in the opposite direction.
"Those guys were swarming all over it when I left. No way we can go back there now. Trouble is, in this thing we're little better than sitting ducks."
"Tell me about it," Logan murmured. He clutched at the dashboard as they hit a huge hole in the road that led into the farthest parts of the campground.
"Oops. Sorry. This road's a bitch," Max said with a frown of concentration as she stared out the windshield.
"D'you remember where this road leads to?"
"Twists and turns, winding all about the place. Eventually it ends up back near the entrance."
Logan twisted in his seat and looked behind them, half-expecting to see some sign of pursuit any moment. "Can't this crate go any faster?"
When Max didn't answer, he turned to her. She'd wound her window down and was intently studying each area they passed. She clearly seemed to have some plan. "What've you got in mind?" he asked tersely.
"I'm thinking that we can't afford to get into a chase driving 'grandma' here. If we can find a place to hide, we can lay low for a few hours until it's dark. Then, when the coast is clear, I'll go and get your car."
"And we high-tail it outta here," Logan agreed flatly. He found it hard to hide his dissatisfaction, no matter how sensible a move this was.
"Hey, once you're back in front of all your hi tech, whiz bang stuff, you can probably nail these guys in three seconds flat."
"Guess so," Logan nodded.
"And the good thing is – you'll be alive to do it!" Max pointed out with irony.
Logan nodded again, watching Max continue her search. "Just how do we manage to hide this thing, anyway?" he asked, suddenly curious. "You planning on doing a David Copperfield?"
"I'm looking for some firm ground leading into the forest, so that we won't leave any tracks – then I do the whole David Copperfield thingy. Shhh," she finished abruptly.
"What is it?" Logan whispered regardless, amazed she could hear anything over the chugging of the motor behind them.
"Not sure…could be a car…SUV maybe. Maybe nothing at all."
Logan twisted to look behind again. "I don't see anything."
"We've gotta get off this road," Max murmured, intently searching for a suitable spot where their tyre tracks wouldn't be seen. The forest was thickly wooded either side of them, but not so dense that they wouldn't be able to find a path for the van by weaving through the trees. They were moving further away from the river that flowed on their left, but Max much preferred to enter the forest on the right. Otherwise, they could find themselves cut off.
"Okay, here we go," Max muttered, swinging the wheel hard. The van turned from the potholed road and lurched its way down a small incline covered with pine needles and headed straight for two trees.
Logan held his breath. No way was there enough room for the van to manoeuvre without hitting something very large in the small confines that Max had chosen.
Max continued to swing hard on the wheel.
Logan had images of the Titanic grinding against the iceberg as, at the last minute, the van scraped its way between two trees.
"Sweet," murmured Max with satisfaction. Logan thought she'd slow down now that they were amongst the trees, but if anything, she sped up.
"You're not on your motor bike," he reminded her as, in avoiding yet another tree, they sideswiped a blackberry bush. Logan cringed as the thorns scraped squeakily along the side of the van.
She shot him an ironic look. "You worried about the paint job?"
"Nooo," Logan drawled, reminded of the screech of fingernails on chalkboards. "I'm just hoping you don't tip us over before we reach wherever it is we're heading to."
She grinned, not taking her eyes from the windshield. "I thought heights were the only thing you were afraid of. Besides," she added dismissively, "I've handled way bigger rigs than this." As an afterthought she added, "You'd better keep an eye on that door though. I aim to put as much distance between ourselves and the campground as possible."
"I've noticed Manticore wasn't big on humility," he muttered as he tightened his hold on his seatbelt.
"Manticore wasn't big on a lotta things."
They plunged through the forest for another fifteen minutes, Max proving how well she could multi-task by filling him in on what went down at his car. Logan now kept his thoughts about her driving skills to himself, but he was definitely glad when she squeezed through some dense bushes, only to find themselves ringed by more of the same bush, and stopped.
"Perfect," she announced, surveying their hideaway with a satisfied air.
Logan looked about. She was right – the bushes were thick enough to make them almost invisible.
Max turned off the engine and wound down her window. For a moment they both sat, taking in the silence and listening for any sound of pursuers.
"You hear that?" Logan murmured.
Max looked at him, puzzled.
"Birds," he pointed out.
"Oh. Right."
"You realise we've hardly heard any birdlife up here since the morning Poggs died. Kinda weird, don't you think?
"Everything's weird about this place. No wonder Zack didn't wanna hang around."
"Right," Logan replied a little shortly then turned and stared out his window, apparently studying the greenery.
Max looked across at Logan, a flicker of indecision in her eyes. She opened her mouth, about to speak, then closed it, turning to open her door instead. "I'm just gonna check if we've made any tracks. Won't be long."
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Max cautiously followed their trail back to where they'd turned off into the forest. Here and there she found a slight indentation from the weight of the van, but fortunately the ground beneath the thick covering of pine needles and other forest debris was firmly packed.
Once she reached the campground road, she approached slowly. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sound of a car engine – probably an SUV by the sound of it. It seemed to be coming from somewhere near where they'd camped. Max hesitated – she was tempted to do some recon, find out exactly who these guys were and what their game was.
The sensible side of her immediately said: Yeah, and if you get jammed up, where does that leave Logan?
Damn, it sure was tempting…she was an X5. She couldn't deny it – part of her craved danger for all her talk about keeping her head down. Why else had she chosen cat burglary as a profession? If Zack was here I would.
No, if Zack was here all he'd be worried about would be exposure, her mind broke in quickly.
The kick-ass vision she had of her and Zack swooping in and taking down the bad guys then returning triumphantly to Logan evaporated.
Right – he's not exactly into saving the world. She sighed. That's Logan's dealio.
Turning purposefully away from the road, Max headed back into the forest.
When she got back to the van, Logan had taken his muddy jacket off and turned it inside out so that he could sit his laptop on his legs without coating it in mud as well. He looked up when Max opened her door. "Everything okay?"
Max shrugged. "Guess so. Now all we've gotta do is wait 'til nightfall for me to grab your car."
"That's your plan?" Logan frowned.
"You got a better one?"
"Not really."
"Then we're stuck with it," she told him, climbing into her seat. "Eww."
Logan frowned at her.
"All that mud."
"The mud, if you recall, isn't my fault," he told her as he watched her get out of her seat and head to the back of the van and start rummaging through any cupboard space she could find. "What are you doing?" he added suspiciously.
"Maybe there's something back here you could change into."
"That's highly unlikely," Logan said at once, not liking where this conversation was going.
"Oh, yeah?" she answered after a bit more rummaging. With a sexy lift to one eyebrow she held up a dilapidated sports bag for him to see. "You are in luck."
"You don't even know what's in it," Logan countered.
"I can see a pair of jeans on top. Look to be about your size," she murmured as she yanked them out and held them up. "There's a heap o' stuff in here. Wonder why they didn't take it with them."
Logan thought back to that morning. "It's not customary to take a bag with you when you leave for the hereafter," he told her dryly.
"Oh," Max said quietly, looking a little less enthusiastic.
Logan turned back to his laptop, annoyed to find that, in spite of all his precautions, a smear of mud had made its way onto his screen. His other concern was the lack of battery power left – only about 15 minutes.
Hurrying now, he called up the notes he'd made from the newspaper clippings the evening Horst Mueller had shown up.
Max continued to forage in the back. Mostly she found a lot of empty cigarette packs, cigarette butts, and empty Coke cans. No food or drink, she noted regretfully, thinking they'd both be damned hungry by nightfall. At least they wouldn't freeze to death if it got really cold – there was still some bedding that had been thrown in one corner. She pounced on that thinking at last she had found something helpful, but her smile turned to distaste when she realised it was the blanket Poggs had been lying on when he died.
Damn.
She went back to the sports bag.
Logan meanwhile had realised where the mud on his screen had come from. Both undersides of the cuffs on his sweatshirt were coated in it. With an annoyed grunt he pushed up both sleeves only to have the mud now smeared the length of his forearm.
"You sure you don't want a change of clothes?" Max murmured, holding up a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt enticingly at his side.
"Max…"
"I know it's probably not the brand you'd usually choose, but they look to be about your size, they're dry and, the really big bonus is – they're not stiff as a board which is what your clothes will be as soon as they dry out."
She thought he was weakening. "You're only gonna get cold sitting there with that crap all over you, and it doesn't feel like it's gonna be a warm night."
Logan reached out and took them with a sarcastic, "Thank you, Mom,"
"Time for me to do some more recon, anyway," Max told him glibly, cringing at his words and wondering what made men so stubborn when it came to their own well-being. "I need to check out the terrain. Just in case…"
"Right, just in case…" he echoed dryly.
Max turned and slid out the side door. "Just yell if you need me," she told him, discreetly drawing the faded curtains before edging her way through the bushes directly in front of the van this time.
Logan leant across and put his laptop on Max's seat then looked at the clothes Max had given him. She was right – they did look to be about his size and, in spite of what he'd told Max, he had to agree that it would be good to change out of his present clothes. He just wished he didn't have to go to so much effort to do it.
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Max, in fact, spent a good ten minutes checking the forest immediately around them, just in case they had to exit in a different direction from the way they'd come. She wasn't entirely happy with their current situation. She would have picked a dozen different scenarios if she'd had the choice, but she didn't see what else she could have done, given the givens. The VW didn't have enough gas in it for them to make a full getaway, not to mention the fact that they'd be easy prey for one of the much faster, modern SUVs the black-coats were driving and she'd had to get Logan to safety as fast as possible. At least, this way, they should be able to hold-up in the forest until it was safe enough for her to go back and get his car. Besides, at night she stood a much better chance of dealing with any opposition, should it arise.
Then all they had to do was get out of Murchison Woods in one piece and head back to Seattle. What Logan planned to do from there was anyone's guess. One thing she did know: he wouldn't let up on this until he had Mueller, and whoever else, nailed and pinned squirming on the highest tree.
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"Logan? You decent?"
She could just make out the van from where she stood. Crap. His seat was empty.
Damn! Why is he never where I think he's gonna be? "Logan!" she called again, pushing through the bushes.
"I'm here."
Max came forward with relief and opened up her door – he'd been bent over, in the back rear-facing seat.
"Just doing up my shoe – didn't hear you," he explained.
One look at the passenger side seat explained why he was no longer sitting there – he would have simply transferred another few inches of mud to the dry clothes he'd just put on. "I thought maybe you could pass me something to cover the mud." As he said it he had a vague memory of his intent to return home and inform Bling that he hadn't had to ask Max to do anything for him. C'est la vie. For some reason, when you're stuck in an ugly van in the middle of a forest because guys with guns are trying to kill you and you're trying to avoid covering your ass in mud smeared with a corpse's blood, having to ask for help to get a blanket doesn't seem to be such a big deal.
"Sure," smiled Max, going around to the back door to retrieve the blanket she'd tossed down earlier. She figured if it was only his ass coming in contact with it, it shouldn't matter whether Poggs had died on it or not. It's not as if he's gonna rub his face in it.
Once Max had the seat covered, she picked up his pile of muddy clothes and rolled them into a ball. "You wanna keep these?"
Logan's expression said clearly that he hoped he never saw them ever again. "'Kay," Max murmured, quickly taking the hint.
Stooping to pass into the back of the van, she moved past Logan and shoved them into the farthest corner then stood back as Logan had the arduous task of transferring back to the passenger seat.
Once he was seated, Max sat down opposite. "Mmm, you look nice," she grinned across at him.
"Next time I go camping with you I'm gonna remember to take ten changes of clothes," he answered, surprising her with one of his slow, wide smiles.
Max's smile lingered for an instant. Wow, Mueller's drug must really have whacked his brain if he's even considering going camping with me again after all this.
"Thank you," Logan added, feeling guiltily that some was due.
Max shrugged away his gratitude. "So, what do we do now for the next few hours?" she asked conversationally, leaning back and putting one foot up on the dashboard. "Play 'name that flora'?"
"I should open up my laptop," Logan replied, intending to sound enthusiastic as he half-heartedly looked around to see where he'd put it.
"You want it?" Max asked, finding it by her feet and kind of hoping that he'd say no.
"I'd say yes if I thought it was gonna do some good. Whatever Mueller gave me sure messed with my brain."
Max looked across at him with a quick concern.
"Not now," he added as he caught the look. "I mean last night. From the time we got back to our camp, most of the stuff I wrote was little better than gibberish."
Max let out a slow breath of frustration and stared out the window. "Has anything gone right the whole time we've been up here?" When Logan didn't answer, she continued, "You think other people get to have weekends away without having to face all this crap?"
"It's a hurting world, Max. You don't have to look too hard to find it."
"Yep. Even if you're not looking, it's kinda hard to miss," she complained dryly. Or they do what I did. "Thing is, most people just ignore it," she said softly, thinking of all the times she'd done the same.
"Well, I guess a lot of people have enough of their own problems to deal with," Logan answered her. She had a feeling he was giving her an out, and she was tempted to take it, but how could she when she was sitting next to him? He had as much of an excuse as she did, if not more, to start looking the other way, say that it was all too hard.
"It doesn't always make you feel good though, looking out for Number One, ya know?"
"I know," he answered quietly, studying her profile for a moment before returning his gaze to the windshield and the bushes and the trees.
Max looked across at him. Sometimes talking with Logan she felt like she was dipping into some sort of bottomless well of wisdom that was totally at odds with everything she'd been taught. She remembered how freaky she'd found the experience when it happened for the first time. Then quite quickly she found that if she let herself listen, more often that not she'd feel comforted when she hadn't even realised she'd needed it - that somehow her screwy life would all work out okay.
A natural silence fell over the van – each absorbed in their own thoughts.
Logan could sense his eyelids growing heavier. Now that they'd finally stopped, the strange feeling of tiredness that had been niggling at him all day came flooding back. He changed his position then let his head rest against the seat. Within seconds he was in a deep sleep.
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Phobia – an irrational fear.
As a boy, hadn't he tried watching every 'fascinating documentary' the Discovery Channel had shown on them?
It hadn't helped.
I wouldn't say I was afraid of them. Not liking something doesn't mean you're actually afraid of it.
And now he was dreaming about the damned things.
His mom had told him it was his creative side that was to blame - an overly active imagination that could too vividly create – and thanks to Horst Mueller, he'd been 'creating' them all day.
He didn't like their eight legs, the way they moved, the way they had a habit of appearing when you least expected them. He just didn't like them.
He particularly didn't like the large ones with furry bodies, and he was looking at one now. It sat on his left leg, sinister and silent, as if patiently waiting for the order to attack. They were always patient – it was part of their profile. They excelled at the 'waiting game.'
Its eight brown, hairy legs were bent, not splayed out, as if it was uncertain of its terrain, maybe even in attack mode. Well, my leg's not gonna cause you any bother, Logan thought, and I'm sure as hell not going to bother taking a swipe at yet another phantom.
The movement was fast, almost no more than a blur. He jumped.
Logan stared with vacant fascination at the obliterated remains on his leg for several moments before Max's accusing voice broke the spell. "What the hell are you doing?"
Logan looked at her, acutely aware that he should have a ready reply but his mind still had to deal with the unnerving fact that what he'd thought was a dream had in fact been reality and the dismembered, twitching leg was a major distraction.
"Is this another Eyes Only dealio? I thought you were meant to be the protector of widows and small children! This thing creeps, Logan – creeps you're supposed to deal with!" Logan opened his mouth to reply… "Didn't you see that it was all geared up to sink its fangs into you? You were staring right at it! Don't tell me," she mocked, "you were one of those kids that grew up watching the Discovery Channel and now, as well as wanting to save the world, you want to save every insect on the whole damned planet?"
"Not exactly…"
"So what if it's some trick-ass specimen from South America or the moon for that matter?" Max let her eyes travel along the ceiling with a frown. "This thing is crawling with the damned things."
"You've accounted for one, at least," Logan told her carefully, wondering uneasily how many others Max had seen.
Max glanced down at the flattened carcass presently oozing yellow juices onto the leg of his pants and made a face. "Damn, you'd better wipe that off – for all we know it could be some sorta poison oozing out of it," she told him, hastily handing him an old T-shirt that was wedged along the dashboard, probably for use as a de-mister. Max watched, with thoughtful silence, as he wiped the remains of the spider off his leg and onto the floor of the van with the rag.
"Nice," he murmured coolly as the last remnants fell.
"Sorry. I just didn't like the idea of it biting you," Max said more temperately.
Logan nodded, keeping his voice light. "Tell the truth, I'm not that keen on the idea either."
Max spoke again, her voice unusually serious. "We still don't know what killed Poggs," she reminded him quietly. Cutting off a protest from Logan, she said quickly, "I'm not laying odds that it's the spiders, but while we don't have the 411 on what's causing so much roadkill up here, I'm not about to take any chances."
"At least we know that Tex's killer was flesh and blood," Logan offered.
"Great. Now we're dealing with a psycho as well as extra-terrestrials, not to mention the perps with guns at your car," Max retorted bitterly.
After a few moments, she noticed that the silence between them had begun to swell. A quick glance across at Logan showed him staring stonily outside.
"You did your best, Logan," she offered quietly.
"Sometimes it's just not enough, is it?"
Max winced at his tone, not sure what to say. "It'll be dark soon," she finally murmured. "Plenty of clouds around. It's gonna be a dark night - should help our cause."
Logan lifted his eyes and let them focus, wondering yet again what Mueller's involvement was in all this as he watched the bushes and trees surrounding them slowly turn into indistinct shadows.
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"Time for me to bounce."
Logan looked across at her. "You'll be careful, won't you." It was more of a command than a question.
"Aren't I always?" she flung back flippantly over one shoulder as she slid out of the car.
"Max."
"Yeah, yeah. Don't sweat it, Logan. All I intend to do is grab your car so that we can blow home."
She saw the flicker of he-who's-left-behind-to-wait discontentment cross his features, but he nodded his head in agreement.
"You just make sure you're waiting here for me when I get back," she added warningly, pulling a face as the cold wind outside tugged at her jacket and she realised how cold the night was. "Here, you'd better put this on," she told Logan, reaching into the back of the van for a heavy, brown jacket that she'd taken from the bag of clothes, and holding it out for him.
Logan eyed it suspiciously.
"On second thought," Max added. Taking it back, she shook it vigorously outside the car. "Just wanna be sure no eight-legged hitch-hikers have made it their crib," she told him.
"Nope, not a thing."
Logan reached across and took it from her. He wanted to ask her a million questions, find out exactly what she intended to do, how long she'd be, but all he said was, "Hey, see you when you get you back."
Max grinned. A quick glance checked that his bag was within reach, closed the door quietly, and was gone, swallowed up in the darkness.
Logan sat back with a sigh of frustration.
It was now pitch black outside. He could barely make out a thing outside the car, not even shadows, now. His phone had begun beeping an hour ago, telling him that the battery needed to be recharged and his laptop was flat as well.
He wondered how long a wait he'd have as he shrugged his arms into the jacket, thankful for its warmth over the light sweatshirt he'd put on earlier. The wind that was beginning to pick up again outside didn't seem to have any trouble at all finding its way into the old Volkswagen.
A sound outside near the back of the van made him turn his head quickly in that direction, but it was only the sound of branches scraping against the bus as the wind blew them.
For want of anything else to do, he reached down and took out his gun, checked that it was still loaded and placed it crossways on his lap.
The van felt particularly cheerless now that Max had gone.
Logan's eyes travelled carefully around its interior. He didn't want any more unexpected 'friends' dropping in on him. Satisfied for the moment that he seemed to be alone, he changed his position and tried not to think about how long Max might be. Then, as he sat there longer, he tried not to think about the more disturbing thought of what he'd do if Max didn't return at all. He checked his watch. She'd only been gone thirty-seven minutes.
I hate waiting.
Time ticked on.
Paralysed journalist found dead in car.
His mind screamed the headline at him then obligingly showed him Jonas's reaction. He cheered himself with the thought that at least Aunt Margo would shed a tear. She'd certainly cried enough when she'd visited him that first time in hospital – anyone would've thought he'd died.
Part of you did.
Logan shoved his hands roughly into the pockets of his jacket. That was the trouble with waiting – too many thoughts.
Absently Logan's fingers closed around something in the right-hand pocket as he stared outside. After a while he let his clenched jaw relax and let out a long breath that showed white in the air.
He looked down at his legs and saw the unfamiliar pants. With that came the realisation that it was Poggs's jacket that he wore, as well. Suddenly thoughtful, he pulled out the paper his fingers had been clutching.
He held a folded note.
Logan held the note up to his face. He could barely make out the words in the dark interior of the car. Quickly untying the rope that held his door shut, Logan swung it open as far as he could while still holding onto it. No cheery light pierced the darkness. "'Course not," he muttered cynically as he began to look around hopefully for some other form of illumination - maybe a flashlight left behind in their flight, matches, an old lighter, anything.
Reaching forward he popped the glove box and gingerly felt inside. Maybe… Feeling that for once things were beginning to go right, he pulled out a disposable lighter.
Biting his lip he flicked it several times with his thumb. The hint of a smile crossed his face as a tiny flame flickered then grew bigger.
Logan held the note near the lighter. The writing was a dark uneven scrawl, barely legible, as if it had been written under great duress.
Hey, man. Don't listen…was quite clear, but after that, things became difficult. He could make out something about 'a load of crap' then the word 'leave' was quite clear…ahhh, you've got to leave… then the last line stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the note. DEATH is in the air.
Logan swallowed. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
DEATH.
Whoever wrote the note had been damn keen to make their point. His eyes were caught by the single word that had been capitalised.
So this was one of the notes that Poggs had been talking about. No wonder all the others went crazy when they found the dropout med. student dead.
Logan stared at the note in the flickering light, not quite willing to admit that he felt a definite reluctance to extinguish the friendly, feeble flame.
The power of suggestion, he mused. But it hadn't been 'suggestion' that had killed Poggs or Tex or those animals and birds.
Death is in the air.
Couldn't whoever wrote this note have been a bit more forthcoming, written more clearly? A detailed account would have been nice, he thought wryly. It certainly would have saved him and Max a lot of trouble.
Suddenly realising that even a flicker of light could be spotted quite easily against the backdrop of darkness, Logan quickly put the lighter out…and waited.
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"Logan!"
His eyes opened suddenly. He'd fallen asleep again.
He looked across to find that Max had slid into the driver's seat. He wondered if she knew her own strength as her fingers gripped tightly on his arm as she shook him.
"I'm awake," he told her quickly, trying to make out her expression in the dark.
Max was never one to waste words.
"We're screwed, Logan. Your car's gone."
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To be continued…