She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or if she was awake when a hand gently shook her and a dreadfully familiar voice called her name. Lisa jolted upright, turning around frantically to take in her stranger surroundings. Her eyes locked on Jackson seated beside her. Panic began to flood her mind until he said, "We made it to the safe house."
Lisa stared at him, confused, then blinked several times before the words sank in. She breathed in deep, a hand cupping her forehead. "Okay," she replied, shakily.
Jackson was out the car and waiting for her by the walkway leading up to the house by the time Lisa emerged from the car. Her joints were stiff and the gashes on her leg stung painfully. There wasn't much to see through the darkness. Lisa glanced around. She could tell there were trees in the distance, but that was all. She joined Jackson on the walkway, the flood light on the side suddenly alighting. As they made their way to the front door, an arm shot out and smacked into Lisa's chest.
"Security beam," whispered Jackson. She couldn't see it, but mirrored Jackson's actions stepping over the invisible security beam.
Three wooden stairs led to a small porch. A swing hung to the far left. Jackson knocked twice on the front door. They didn't wait long to get a response.
"Type in your code," came a craggy voice over an intercom speaker above them. A panel besides the door buzzed open, revealing a key pad. Jackson pushed five numbers then hit the 'enter' key. "Now your thumb print." He pressed his thumb into the slot under the key pad. A moment later, what sounded like three dead bolts unlocked and the door jerked open.
Lisa stared blankly at the person standing on the other side. She had expected someone large and intimidating, but the person who greeted them was an older women, at least in her mid-60's. She was around Jackson's height. Her hair was faded strawberry blonde with little curls that clung tightly to her head. Her skin was rough and wrinkled, but that didn't take away from her bright smile.
"Jackson Rippner, I presume?" she asked slyly, her low voice gravelly from many years of smoking.
"Yes," Jackson replied. "Beatrice Clark?"
"That's me, deary! But everyone who comes here calls me Grandma Bea." She moved aside. "Come on in."
Jackson walked passed her with Lisa close behind. Bea eyed her curiously. She closed the door, the dead bolts clanging back in place.
"So, who are you, young lady?"
When Lisa tried to speak, it came out scratchy and she cleared her throat. "Lisa Reisert."
"I brought Lisa here to protect her from a former colleague of mine," Jackson explained.
Bea nodded, a look of understanding on her face. "Protecting the girl. Just like a man. Are you with the League, Lisa?"
Lisa shook her head. "No."
"Okay. I need to confirm you with headquarters."
"Do you have antibiotic and bandages for Lisa's leg?" Jackson asked.
Bea looked where he was pointing at Lisa's sloppily bandaged leg. She grimaced. "Oh, deary! You need to get that cleaned up before it gets infected. The second door on the left is a bathroom. The first aid kit is at the bottom of the closet."
"Thank you," Lisa said, and started toward the hallway. She heard Jackson murmuring to Bea, but couldn't understand what he was saying. She bent down slowly, wincing at the sharp pain from her gashes, and retrieved the first aid kit from the closet. A hand clasped her forearm and she turned, staring inches from Jackson's face.
"Sit down on the toilet and I'll take care of your leg."
Lisa was surprised at this softened, almost caring tone. She obeyed, handing Jackson the kit and sitting. He bent to one knee, and began tearing the rectangle bandages from her leg. He could see her tense at his touch.
"Relax, Leese."
"It's awkward having the man who tried to kill you once taking care of a wound on your leg."
"Well, suck it up," he replied nonchalantly, not taking his eyes off the task at hand. "Because you're stuck with me for a while."
"I'm still unsure if I can trust you."
Jackson poured the antibiotic onto a clean clothe. "I got you this far."
Lisa sucked in sharply as he pressed the clothe to the long, red gashes crawling up her leg. She gripped the side of the sink, knuckle turning white. Jackson threw the clothe in the trash can. He opened the tube of ointment, squeezing it onto a new clothe, and spreading it over the gashes. Lisa felt the corners of her eyes water. She threw back her head, not wanting Jackson to see any tears.
Jackson handed her a roll of surgical tape. "Tear off four long strands of tape and hand them to me." Lisa did so, and he taped a long, double-layered clothe over the gashes. He looked up at her. "You're done."
"Did you're former employer teach you how to bandage up wounds?" Lisa asked, examining his work.
"They taught me many things," Jackson replied, curtly. "Bea said you could find something to eat in the kitchen. I need to talk to her." He stood, and left Lisa on her own.
"You're not suppose to be anywhere near that girl."
Jackson looked annoyed. "She was put in danger because of me. I have to protect her."
"Look, Rippner," Bea started, forcefully. "-you'll be hitting hard time if the League catches you with her. Why don't you turn her over to the League? They'll take care of her."
"No." Jackson's face darkened. "My former colleague knows how to get around, how to crack the system. I won't entrust her into the hands of the people who let me run free. Would you?"
Bea shook her head, sighing heavily. "You're right. Well, Rippner, I'll hold them off the scent for three days. By then, you better have a plan, because the League'll be coming for you."
"Three days will do."