Just so you know, I do think murder is wrong, and I would never kill someone. However, Valerie, as my character is capable of it, and even would. Sorry if it bothers you, but it's not really bloody or anything, like some other chapters were.
Oh yes, and I've only got about two and a half chapters more left to write. This chapter is halfway through. I'm so excited! Hopefully, I can finish another story before the school year's over, and then my friend can update over the summer. I really wanted to get my A/H done.
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.
Again, more impatiently, came the knock.
Valerie glanced back at Zane, and from the look on her face, he knew it was trouble. "Just a minute!" he called, quickly rumpling his jacket, so that it looked as if he'd thrown it on in a hurry. As fast as he could, he opened the bags, and pulled out a small gun, slipping it into his pocket so that he could shoot without alerting someone that he was about to.
"It's important! Open up!" The English was rough, but there was no mistaking the tone. Strangely, the accent wasn't Russian. It had an Asian flavor to it.
Valerie caught the gun Zane tossed her, and dropped to the floor as though she were searching for something before opening the door.
For a moment, the Chinese man in the doorway looked confused. There was no one directly in front of him. Zane was there, of course, standing at an odd angle that would have been uncomfortable to shoot him from, but who had opened the door?
Then, suddenly, there was a gun under his chin, forcing his head back at a very uncomfortable angle. A second later, and he had been relieved of all the weapons on his person, which mostly consisted of a small knife and a bottle of something suspicious, and was lying on the floor of the apartment, door shut and locked behind him.
"Toss me the rope, will you?" Valerie nodded to the suitcases, and poked her captive irritably in the neck when he started to squirm. "Lie still!"
"What are you doing? What are you doing? I don't have any money, I swear!" He made a noise rather like the squeal of a pig when Valerie jabbed him with the gun again, thrashing around in a pointless, but annoying tangle of limbs.
Valerie finished tying him in a minute, and rolled him over, unbuttoning his shirt. "Yeah, yeah. Everyone says that accept me, you know. Let's see your tattoo, and then you can tell me you don't know what I'm doing to my face. You were sent here to— Damn!"
Zane took a half-step forward, looking worried, as she suddenly stopped. "What's the matter?"
"He hasn't got a tattoo." Valerie crossed her legs, and leaned forward, touching her forehead to the floor. After a moment of quiet muttering to herself, she straightened.
"Hasn't got a…"
Valerie nodded, tight lipped.
"What tattoo?" the man on the floor sputtered. "I have certainly not got a tattoo! They're indecent! They're immoral! They hurt!"
Zane glared at Valerie. "You know? You're starting to make more mistakes than is good for us. If this keeps up, we really are going to be dead. Perhaps you don't realize that we have the Mafia, and the Sun Ye On wandering around out there looking for us? With really big guns?"
The man, who was rather fat, stared up at them in horror, licking pasty lips. "The— Sun Ye On? Oh please, please let me go!" He began to struggle again, more wildly, this time.
Valerie smacked him. "Stop that!" She hesitated, and then shoved him under the bed, straining to fit his fat, wobbling stomach after him.
Quickly, she stood up, and brushed herself off. After checking to make sure he couldn't be seen unless someone leaned over and looked at him, she took a firm hold on Zane's shirt, and pulled him across to sit on the other bunk with her. "Zane? We have to do something with him. If we let him go, he'll babble, and you know we can't afford to keep him."
Zane frowned at her. "Just what are you suggesting that we do?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Valerie stood, drawing her gun. "My rules, Zane. Don't think I don't feel bad for him, but it's the rules. I never break my rules."
Zane caught hold of her arm tightly, as she started to stand. "Maybe you should."
Valerie shook him off. "It's the rules Zane. And believe me, neither of us can kill each other, because we need the other person to survive, but there's nothing saying I can't hurt you. And you know I can, even like this. And you don't need anything more."
There was a squeak from the bunk opposite, and they both looked up, as the pudgy little Chinese man squeezed out from under the bunk, panting. "I was just…" He petered off under Valerie's glare.
With great difficulty, he climbed to his feet, keeping up a constant stream of grunts of concentration.
Valerie waited until he was standing before wrenching free of Zane's grasp, and pointing the gun at him. "Alright. Try as few words as possible, and tell us what was so important that you had to bungle in here, and everything you might care to disclose about the Sun Ye On. Remember, you're going to die anyway, so no one can punish you."
"It's just— the train's been hijacked, and there are people coming through the cars stealing people's stuff, and I was telling everyone in this section because I can speak English, and the others can't, and they should be here soon, and they had guns, and I think they might be part of the Sun Ye On, but I don't know, and I'm scared, and—"
"And that's enough," sighed Valerie. "Any Mafia?"
His squinty little eyes widened again. "N— No."
"I'll bet they'll wait to hijack our hijackers until farther on. Perhaps from the outside." Valerie shut her eyes to cracks, watching the man in front of her from beneath long eyelashes.
"Are you going to hurt me?" he whispered fearfully.
"Not— hurt you. It won't hurt, understand." Her voice was quiet, and actually soothing: something that surprised Zane. "Just relax. It's fast, you know. Here, and then there. No time to think. Why worry? You look like a nice enough man."
And then, suddenly, before he could open him mouth to respond, and before he saw the gun and got nervous again, she snapped the gun out of her shoulder holster, and pulled the trigger.
There was a heavy thud, as his body sagged to the floor. Zane didn't move. Neither did Valerie.
Finally, Zane opened another suitcase, and pulled out the bags stored inside it. "Just one thing, Madam. If you ever start talking to me like that, be warned that I will shoot before I ask my questions. And I would really like to avoid that situation. I need you as much as you need me."
"Are you sure I need you?" There was no tone, no emotion in her voice, which made the question all the more frightening.
"If you didn't need me, would you have encumbered yourself with me?"
Valerie swung one of the packs onto her shoulder. "What's the most ridiculous thing I could do, Zane? That's all you need to remember. Would I be expected to?"
Zane turned quickly, and looked out the window. "I don't think now is the time to discuss it. What should we do with his body?"
"Under the bed. If someone sees him, they'll shoot, and won't know they weren't the one's who killed him. We'll take the roof back to the front of the train, where it'll be safer, no doubt. Less fighting, since they've already taken over up there."
They heard a faint shout then— perhaps from someone two cars up. "Enough talk," spat Zane. "Get out the window, and climb like hell's trying to catch you."
"Not good enough," returned Valerie, opening the window. "It's been trying to catch me for years. I escaped it once or twice you know. Try heaven. The thought of being good scares me."
The shouters were louder now, and nearer. Valerie squeezed through the window with effort, clinging to the frame as best she could with her good hand. Zane shouted something at her from inside the car, and pushed her, almost making her let go. He'd forgotten that she only had one hand— and she couldn't hear what he was saying over the wind caused by the speed of the train. Probably something about the Sun Ye On getting closer though.
Valerie gritted her teeth, and lunged for the railing encircling the roof of the car, catching hold of it just as her feet slipped out of the window. She dangled there, waiting, and wishing desperately that Zane would hurry up. The speed of the train made it all the more difficult to hang on, and she was being battered violently against the side of the car.
She felt Zane shove her feet to the side in impatience, and swing out, kicking the window shut as he caught hold of the rail. "What's the—" He stopped with a swear word as he suddenly realized why she hadn't moved, and struggled onto the roof of the car, lying as flat as possible, and hooking his arm around the rail before catching hold of her wrist.
"Hurry up! Kick your feet up so I can roll over!" He looked worried now, tearing his gaze from her, to the car ahead of them, to her.
Valerie groaned, struggled a moment, and finally managed to swing her body up high enough for Zane to pull her onto the car. For a few minutes, she lay there, eyes closed, regulating her breathing.
Once she was done with this whole, crazy thing, she was going to retire with a nice fat bank account, and never get in so much as a cat fight again. She might have been in good shape, but the stunts were becoming more and more radical. Radical might be cool, but it wasn't healthy.
"Are you okay?" Zane crouched over her uncertainly, not knowing what to do, and feeling entirely too vulnerable out in the open, like this.
"I— guess," gasped Valerie. "Just a minute."
From below, they heard shouts. First confused, then furious. Someone must have known which car they were in. And if they weren't there, it meant either they'd gotten lucky, or they'd found out. Obviously, the Sun Ye On weren't happy that their target had gotten away.
Zane looked back down at Valerie's face. She was in pain, that was obvious. Him? Yeah, he hurt here and there. His foot, his back, and where she'd hit him in the shoulder the other day. But it was just a sore pain. Her hand must be hurting. Really hurting.
How was she dealing with it? "Take your time. They aren't going to figure it out." Actually, he really wished she'd hurry up, because he wanted to get out of there as fast as he could, but it wouldn't help to rush her.
An amused smile twitched the corner of her mouth. "What's bothering you, Zane?"
"Nothing." Slowly, he lifted his head, squinting against the wind, and listening to the noises below. "I just wish we could take the diamond, and get out of Russia. I wish you had a plan, and I wish we weren't anywhere near the Sun Ye On."
Valerie sighed tiredly. "So do I, Zane. But—" Her eyes narrowed. For barely a second, she listened, and then tugged her gun out of it's holster, and struggled over to the side, releasing the safety.
Zane watched in fascination as she listened, and then suddenly leaned over with an unnerving smile. "Why, hello. I wonder what you're doing?" And then she pulled the trigger.
There was a crash, and swearing, and shouting, and a loud tinkling of glass, over the soft whir of the wheels on the tracks. Suddenly, he found himself being pulled to the front of the car by Valerie, who had regained all of her lost energy, and was urging him to jump from one car to the other, much to his horror. That would kill him for sure.
This was craziness. There was no other word for it. They were going to die, and that would be the end of all their plans for fame and glory.
Finally though, because she wouldn't stop shoving him, he pulled his feet under him, and launched himself into a jump. It was only about two thirds of a meter, but he nearly missed it anyway, and Valerie pushed him down flat when she joined him.
"What were you thinking?" she hissed. "When I tell you to do something, you do it! Do you want to get us both killed?"
"We're going to die anyway," said Zane miserably.
Valerie shook him impatiently. "No we're not! Do you hear me? I said we're not! I'm not going to let either of us die! I've already broken out of The Fortress! I'm going to get the diamond, and I'm going to get us both out of this hell alive! Do you hear?"
The train jerked, and then it started to stop. Even though there was no station, city, herd of animals wandering on the track, or a bound and gagged heroine. There was, however, and awfully big tank of fuel, as Valerie saw when she raised her head to look.
A tank that would have blown the front of the train into fine ash.
Ah yes, someone brought to my attention that I do not review that many other people's stories, though I've tried to instead of paying attention during computer class. If you know of a really good story I'm not reviewing, or want me to read yours or something, you need to tell me, because I don't have time to search for stories. Really. I am shameless self-promoter anyway, and I don't mind at all.
You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)
