Hello, as usual. I'm struggling to finish this story, but I'm sure I'll get it done. I've had a rush of ideas, and I'm working on several stories at once, so there will be another when this one is finished.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.
Truthfully, Valerie hadn't the slightest idea about what they were going to do. Things were just getting worse and worse. The Tyrant had a fairly good idea of their general area, he knew the general area of the diamond, his men were all over, and they were both badly injured.
Going into the city would be dangerous, because so many people could see them— and it wasn't like they didn't stand out. But going into the city was also the best way to get transportation across Russia, make contact with people who could help them, and get medical attention and supplies. They would have to go into the city, she knew.
The hard part would be creating a believable cover, and keeping them out of the Mafia's way.
Valerie sighed, and rolled over onto her side, ignoring a twinge of pain from her hand. It was better with her arm like this, but she couldn't stop wondering if she'd ever get her hand back. Probably not. It had been more pulped than broken, and casts couldn't fix that. She wondered if it would be best to amputate it. But she didn't want to look bad, even if she couldn't use it. What if people wouldn't hire her?
"Can't sleep?"
Zane's voice startled her. Valerie didn't roll over to look at him though. She nodded slightly. "No. I'm not sure why. I just can't."
"You don't have an idea yet, do you?" He sighed, and stretched out slightly, brushing her hair. "You wouldn't go to sleep in the cell, and then in the middle of the morning, you must have got your idea, or something, because you got desperately excited."
Valerie snorted. "Humph. You would have too, if you'd discovered a way out of The Fortress."
"Really?" Zane laughed tiredly. "Yes, I suppose so."
Valerie stared upwards at the darkness of the sky. It felt like winter had come early. But perhaps that was just because she was so far up north. Something wet splashed on her face. "It's raining."
Zane mumbled something in assent. "So how'd a kid like you end up as a hit woman? What are you— only eighteen?"
"I'll be nineteen in a few days!"
"That's still pretty young." Zane shifted onto his side so he wouldn't be looking up into the rain that was starting to leak down through the branches above them. "Granted— there's no doubt you're good enough for things— no one better! But not many kids get involved in the criminal world that young— I mean, that in depth."
"I started about three or four years ago. Gathering info. I picked up a few things, and helped Rivers handle things. Almost like a secretary. That was helpful. It taught me who was who, and how to get things done and bargain. I'm glad I had the opportunity."
"The hit woman thing, though— How'd you become that?"
Valerie squinched her eyes shut, curled up in a tight ball. "I wanted a better paying job— and with Rivers' connections, hit woman was not too demanding, and well paying. I kept on bothering him about it until he got angry and told me I couldn't have the job unless I went and killed damn Kusac Trabar. I was so angry I did. I got the job. About a year ago."
"How many have you taken out all together?" Zane sat up with a grunt of frustration, and pulled the hood over his face. "Is there anything we can do to keep the rain off of us?"
With a groan, Valerie rolled over against him. "Probably not."
"So how many?" He hesitated uncertainly, and finally curled up beside her, keeping a few inches between them. It felt like they were small children, huddled together in a bed, whispering conspiracies.
"Twelve."
"So I was your thirteenth job?"
She glared at him from under her lashes. "I'm not a superstitious nut."
Zane decided to change the subject. "What does your family think of you? Or are they in the same line?"
Valerie's entire body tensed in anger. She rolled over stiffly, showing him her back. "I'd rather not talk anymore. I'm a little tired. Why don't we go to sleep?"
That touchy subject again. The same as when he'd asked her her name, and who had taught her. There was something she didn't want to talk about, and nothing was going to force it out of her. He wondered if it was good to make her angry the way he was by asking questions. If she truly didn't know where the diamond was, she wouldn't kill him. But if she did, and she got angry, it wouldn't take much. It was hard to tell if she were telling the truth.
"Alright." Zane sighed, and shut his eyes. It was no use.
Valerie woke up slowly. Half of her was warm, and the other half wasn't, and it bothered her. She burrowed down into the warmth, turning her head away from the wetness of the rain that was blurring her vision.
"You awake?" Zane's fingers were suddenly brushing the hair out of her eyes.
It was a moment of acute embarrassment for Valerie. What a childish thing to do! Quickly, she sat up, pushing herself away from him in an effort to push the embarrassment to the side with him. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn't realize— I guess—"
"Forget it. Any ideas?"
"Ideas?" Valerie groaned tiredly, and dropped her head, scrubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand. "Just a second." She stopped after a minute, and looked around for the crackers.
Zane tossed the half-finished box into her lap. "You don't look so hot. You feeling alright?"
"If I wasn't, would you be surprised?" Valerie scowled, and dug her good hand into the box, tugging the much needed food out with impatience. "Any quack doctor could see I'm not in good shape. My hand— not enough food, water, or sleep. Over exertion, a great deal of mental stress, and unsanitary conditions. I'd say I'm not feeling quite right, but then again, that's all relative. It doesn't really matter, you know."
"Sorry." Zane squirmed, and then forced himself to ask— "But you do have an idea, don't you?"
"No!" snapped Valerie, as though it ought to be obvious. "Shut up while I think!"
Zane shut up.
"I think," she said finally, "that we're going to have to go into the city, because there are so many more options there. Transportation, food, supplies— all of that. Plus, no one would be so stupid as to walk into a city full of people looking for them. So no one will be looking for us. We just have to blend in. Easier said than done though, so we ought to—"
"Is this the way you come up with plans?" asked Zane with great curiosity. It was almost like she was unraveling the whole confusion out loud, only nothing much made sense.
"— to dress as tourists, which would explain our lack of understanding of the language. We might also want to separate."
The whole idea didn't sound very good, as Zane started to understand what they were going to do. Separating made sense, but he definitely did not want to do it. There was safety in numbers— particularly skilled numbers. It would be much safer, he felt, if they were together. Safer for him, at least. "How are we going to get tourist clothing and luggage; and passports; and explain our injuries; and get flights, which should have been prearranged, and—"
Valerie smacked at him in annoyance. "Trust me to figure it out, and be quiet. I'm thinking."
For a few long minutes, there was silence, except for the droning patter of raindrops on the pines. It had almost faded to a background hum, but the silence brought it back into consciousness again. It was almost winter. In the mountains, it would be colder still.
"We'll wing it. The idea of us posing as tourists, and not having all that is even more ridiculous than going into the city and posing as a tourist with it. Calculated risk. We can afford it."
"Are you sure?" Zane rolled over and looked down at her doubtfully. "That's an awful lot to wing. And if someone guesses, or gets suspicious, we're done for sure."
"Then I guess we'll have to be too good for them." With a grunt of pain, Valerie got to her feet and reached for the nearest pack. They would have to steal some things, but the rest wouldn't be so bad.
Zane caught hold of a branch, and pulled himself upright carefully. "What about my leg? I'm not going to perform so well. What about splitting up? Where and when will we meet? What if one of us gets killed? What is the other going to do?"
Grinning, Valerie began to pick and choose what they were going to take with them. "Stop worrying. I'll figure it out on our way into the city. Maybe I ought to advertise to the Mafia and pick up a few zeros for my bank account looking for myself."
"It isn't funny!"
"I know. I wasn't being funny."
Soon things had been reduced to the bare minimum, and Valerie straightened, throwing two packs across her shoulders, and motioning for him to pick up two on the ground. "Those are yours. There's food, water, weapons, a blanket."
"But what about money? What about papers? What about proper clothing?" Zane picked up his packs, clenched his teeth tightly, and hobbled after her through the trees.
"You know, Zane, I'm not just a hit woman." Valerie paused, waiting for him to catch up. "I have many resources, and— please don't think me prideful— but I've also got talent. I'll pick up whatever we need, when we need it. Until then, stop worrying."
Zane stopped, lifting his foot off the ground for a rest. "You— you specialize in more than one area?"
"All of them, actually." Valerie excluded the fact that she was better at some certain ones than others. It added to her aura of mystery if she kept all of her skills, limitations, and degrees of competence a secret. The more you could do— and do the right way— the more likely you were to get hired by someone who could pay a lot."
For an instant, Zane just studied her, unsure about whether or not he should trust her. Then he nodded. "Alright. You're in charge. What's the plan?"
Valerie turned, and began to walk again. "We're going to get as close as we safely can, and find somewhere safe. You camp there while I get what we need. While I'm snitching these certain items, I'll arrange the details of the next bit."
"Do you even know what the next bit is?"
"Sure I do. We split up and try to make contact with anyone who could help us without drawing attention to ourselves. Then, we meet. If we've got help, great. If not, oh well. Then, we try to catch a ride out of the place. I'll consider the options when I've looked at them."
Zane groaned. Partly from physical pain, and partly from the absurdness of the whole idea. Sure the ridiculous had worked before, but then he had been able to risk things and cope with the high speed. He highly doubted he'd be able to do it again, he was in such bad shape. He could hardly walk, he'd lost lot's of blood the past few days, he was cold, wet, and tried, he hadn't eaten or drank much, and he was falling apart.
And yet, for some reason, this girl thought he was capable of helping her execute this ridiculous plan of action.
"You'll be fine. Come on." She turned again to watch him struggle over a fallen log, and shook her head. "You need a crutch, or something. You're not in the best of shape."
"I'm in shape!" protested Zane angrily. "I'm just injured and tired! I'm fine!"
"Don't argue with me." Valerie took out a knife, and began looking around for just the right branch. It didn't take her long to find one, cut it down, trim it, and clean it off.
Zane glared at her, but took the staff without comment, and strode alongside her. He hated to admit it, but it was definitely better with the staff than without it.
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
