Chapter 5 The Escape So too, at the present time there is a remnant chosen by grace…
They traveled upriver against the current in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between them and the prison. Mara found it hard to keep up, frustrated by the lengthening gap between them. It was a difficult course, plowing through the rocky waters and when her foot turned on a slippery rock she grimaced in pain. Regaining her balance, she glanced up to see Daniel disappear around the bend. With a tired groan she forced herself on, amazed by his ability to persevere. Despite his injuries he moved agilely, as if well accustomed to the most difficult obstacle course. She on the other hand was sore all over and her feet and lower legs felt numb from the cold mountain runoff. They'd been on the move for hours without a break, nor had they eaten anything since sharing the biscuits she'd snatched from the break room hours before.
Judging by the angle of the sun it was past noon, and she wondered if they'd been discovered missing yet. So far there was no sign of a pursuit, so they had a chance of escape. Memories of seeing the canine units and helicopter teams training flitted through her mind as she prayed they would not come after them. The warden prided himself on having a clean record of no escapes, attempted or successful. If he discovered that they'd sneaked out right from under his nose he would want to hide that fact to keep his reputation. Still, they couldn't count on it.
Finally rounding the bend she spotted Daniel standing at the edge of the bank waiting for her. He straightened and waved her on so she headed toward him, relieved by the prospect of a rest. Before she could reach his side he turned and started toward the trees. Dragging herself from the water she watched him slip into the cover of the woods, his gaze on her as he held aside the low-hanging evergreen branches. She thanked him and followed his lead up the softer terrain into the pine-scented forest. Studying him covertly, she noted the stiffness in his gait and how pale and worn out he looked up close. It was obvious that he hadn't fully recovered from his wounds or the warden's torture sessions, which she suspected had been very difficult.
They startled a flock of birds, which took flight with noisy protest. After a few more minutes he finally stopped and bent over, placing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. She faced him, stretching her back to ease the soreness there. They needed to eat something in order to keep up their strength, and she wanted to check his arms just to reassure herself that the infections had fully cleared.
"So far so good," she sighed, inhaling the sweet scent of the forest. He pulled out the canteen she'd stolen for him and took a few swallows, watching her as she drank about a third of hers. Dragging herself over to a fallen tree, she slumped down upon it and leaned back against an adjacent trunk.
He squinted into the dimness of the forest, still on the alert. The only sound they heard was the distant rush of the river, now winding below them. He turned and glanced down her person as if to check her status.
"Your ankle alright?" he asked in a hoarse voice, raising his canteen with his eyes holding hers.
He actually noticed that? she marveled, nodding to him. "Can we rest here a while?"
The tension she sensed in him and that unreadable expression made her even more nervous. "Not for long," he breathed. "We need to find shelter for the night."
She noted how quickly he capped his bottle, the low timbre of his voice setting her on edge in more ways than one.
"What's wrong?" she wondered. "They haven't come after us, so maybe we shouldn't worry."
He stared upcountry, pursing his lips. "We still have a few hours of hiking to get to that ridge," he stated, not really answering her question.
"Well we won't be able to do that without some sustenance," she announced, pulling her bag onto her lap and rummaging through it. Extracting two packages of crackers, she tossed one to him. "Here, eat up."
Stuffing one into her mouth, she closed her eyes at the heavenly taste of cheese between wheat crackers. To her burning stomach it tasted like a feast.
"What else do you have in there?" he asked, startling her.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze, which to her relief looked almost amused. She stuffed another cracker into her mouth and pulled out two packages of mixed nuts, placing one into his opened palm now that he'd stepped closer.
"I've been scavenging for months," she explained, "aren't you glad?"
He nodded and ate two more crackers, his gaze flitting down her sodden clothing and resting upon her feet. She knew she would have needed more sturdy footwear, but all the patients in Medical were elderly and had nothing of the sort. Holding his gaze as it snapped back to hers, she hid a few peanuts inside her cheek.
"What's the matter?"
He looked away, finishing up the package of crackers. For the first time she noticed how his shirt clung to the solid muscles of his chest and upper arms, nicely defined beneath the thin fabric. Suddenly aware of his closeness, she told herself to stop being ridiculous. They were traveling together out of necessity, not preference—at least when it came to his choice.
"You can't afford to get blisters," he answered, capturing her attention.
When had he looked back? Did he catch me checking him out? she wondered, feeling herself reddening beneath that intense gaze.
She shrugged. "There's nothing I can do about it."
He frowned. "Maybe we should slow down."
Studying the tiny crease lines at the corners of his eyes, she huffed. "I can keep up, Daniel."
He seemed momentarily speechless, his eyes holding hers. To break the uncomfortable silence she tossed him a packet of raisins, which he caught without breaking eye contact.
"Thanks," he finally said, his voice husky as he looked away.
She finished off the nuts and pocketed her raisins as she rose to her feet. "I want to check your arms."
He finished a swallow and glanced back. "I'm fine."
Ignoring him, she strode over to him and touched his arm. "I just want to make sure."
Their eyes dueled a moment before he nodded. "Alright, but they're fine."
She gently rolled up his left sleeve, her eyes widening at the sight. His entire wrist and forearm were heavily bruised but fortunately not swollen. Biting back a protest, she stepped in front of him and checked the right, which was also bruised but not as badly. Looking up, she searched his unreadable expression.
"What did that monster do to you?" she said more to herself than to him.
He started rolling down his sleeves. "We should go."
Placing a hand on his upper arm, she felt him tense. "I'm sorry, Daniel."
He looked up, his jaw tight. "For what?"
"For making you show me," she admitted. "I just wanted to make sure the infections cleared."
He turned away as she dropped her arm. "I know," he said quietly, glancing up at the darkening sky. "Clouds are coming in."
She nodded and retrieved her things, then followed him as they began climbing toward higher country. Having done only a little hiking in the distant past, she was not prepared for the rough terrain. Before long she fell behind again, but he slowed down for her sake. He, on the other hand, was obviously an experienced hiker, leading them up in a zigzag pattern across the side of the mountain. There were washouts, exposed roots and boulders lying strewn haphazardly along the way, making the way rough. They hiked without speaking, commiserating as the hot and humid air drained their reserves. After what seemed like hours she nearly cried from exhaustion by the time he held up a hand and slowed to a halt.
He lifted a hand to swipe at the perspiration dotting his forehead, then eyed the clearing above as he took another swallow of water. She did the same, impressed by his strength and persistence in the face of adversity.
Who is he, really? she wondered, for the first time aware of the fact that she knew very little about him. True, they had similar backgrounds and had undoubtedly suffered persecution for their beliefs. What she didn't know was what kind of man he was and how he treated family, particularly women. The thought crossed her mind that she shouldn't be so friendly with him, but she passed it off as exhaustion-induced paranoia, nothing more.
No, I need him, she argued—God only knew what she might have faced alone, without someone like him. She couldn't swim, she didn't know much about the outdoors and she wasn't accustomed to hard physical labor. Despite being scarred by past betrayals she knew she needed to trust again, and despite what little she knew about Daniel she would have to trust him. And she hadn't trusted anyone since Erik.
His eyes met hers for a moment before they resumed climbing, but at a slower pace. She began to notice how his breathing quickened, and that he curled a protective arm around his side. Wondering what had happened to him in the interrogation room, she decided against questioning him about. It wasn't something anyone would want to discuss, she believed.
They came to a wide and deep gorge, pausing to evaluate their surroundings. It was at least 15 meters deep, bridged by a fallen log that appeared sturdy enough to cross. He glanced down the steep slope with a sigh and she knew there was no other place to cross without wasting valuable time.
"I'll go first," he said with steely resolve but she grabbed his sleeve.
"No, I'll go—I'm lighter."
He eyed the log critically. "It's too dangerous."
"I can do it—besides, if you fall off it'll be harder for me to help you."
He took a moment to consider, then nodded. "Okay—but take it slow."
She stepped up to the side of the fallen tree, feeling his hand under her elbow to help her up. Once she stood atop the spongy bark it seemed solid enough, so she inched forward. Arms wide for balance, she stared carefully along its length, testing her footing and moving slowly while praying she wouldn't slip.
"Don't look down," he called from behind, his voice strangely reassuring. By the time she climbed down onto the other side she felt a surge of energy.
"I did it!" she cried, watching him step up onto the trunk.
With one glance at her he started across while she watched anxiously. When he finally leapt down to stand beside her, she breathed a sigh of relief. Unable to help herself, she gripped him in a hug, but he stiffened and grasped her arms.
"Easy," he gasped, his voice hoarse.
"I'm sorry!" she cried, looking up into his eyes as he quickly released her. Narrowing her gaze, she studied the pale cast to his face and the way he protected his side.
"You're in pain!"
He turned away. "You did well," he smiled, "good job."
When he started off again she followed closely at his side, though he set a brisk pace.
"I've been watching you all day," she told him, struggling to keep up. "I didn't want to press it, but I think you should let me see your side—"
"I'm ok," he croaked, waving a hand.
"But I insist," she ordered, grasping his elbow.
"No," he said, shaking her hand off.
"I need to see—you might have a cracked rib, which is dangerous!"
"You worry too much."
"Oh and you don't?" she croaked, stung by his rejection of her help. "Don't be so stubborn, I just want to see—"
"You want to see?" he shot back, turning as he walked and lifting his shirt.
She gaped at the huge bruise covering his entire left side before he dropped his shirt and turned around. Hurrying to his side, she stayed close.
"Happy now?" he complained.
"No—you're driving yourself too hard for no reason!"
"Am I?" he shot back, glancing at her. "I'm not going back to that place."
"Of course you're not—look, you have nothing to be ashamed of!"
"Neither of us is going back," he vowed.
"They tortured you, for God's sake!" she protested, seeing the pain in his expression. "You should have told me."
"I should have fought back."
"By yourself? What was it—one against how many of them?"
"There was just one," he ground out. "Only one."
"Yeah I know the 'one—The Henchman they call him."
He pursed his lips. "He's just a man."
"A man who's bigger and stronger than two men, so you have nothing to be ashamed of."
"I'm not ashamed!" he shot back, his expression softening a bit before he looked away. "I'm angry that I couldn't fight him."
"I know how helpless Holscomb and his goons make people feel," she stated. "Talk about anger or humiliation—putting women in harems and forcing them to do things beyond their worst fears…"
He eyed her with a painful expression. "Is that what they did to you?"
She lifted her chin. "Not matter what they did, they couldn't touch who we are—not unless we let them."
He considered her words, wiping a sleeve across his forehead. "Where were you, before Medical?"
She shuddered, avoiding his gaze. "In Breeding, where they pumped me full of hormones and strapped me to a gurney most of the day. The idea was to implant fertilized eggs, only they didn't take or hold. I miscarried twice before they got rid of me."
He slowed to a halt, staring at her in horror. "I'm sorry, Mara."
His voice was gentle, quiet. The compassion in his eyes made her almost cry. Instead she exhaled a cleansing breath.
"It's over…we're free, and we're not going back."
"Agreed," he said, touching her hand. "I'm sorry I was angry."
"Don't be," she reassured him, too aware of how good it felt when his hand encircled hers. In his, her hand felt like a child's, but she felt safe and cared for. Protected.
"I'm sorry, about before," he stated. "I didn't want anyone to see my side."
She nodded. "But you should bind it in case your rib was cracked—and it'll be easier to stand the pain."
He released her hand. "We don't have anything to use."
"Hold on," she said, reaching into the bottom of her bag to sift through the contents. Pulling out an ace bandage she'd forgotten about, she held it up to him. "Looks like we do."
He shook his head. "You certainly brought along supplies…mind doing the honors?"
"Of course not," she sighed, eyeing his shirt with a mischievous grin. "Want me to turn my back?"
He frowned. "As you saw, it's not a pretty sight."
"I've seen worse," she answered, aware that some sort of a breakthrough had just occurred. Then he began to unbutton his shirt, half turning away from her sight. What else was he hiding?
There were lines of scars across his upper back and shoulders—old scars that spoke of an earlier time. She felt something drop inside the pit of her stomach. She wanted to know about them, but dared not ask.
She met his waiting expression as he held up his shirt from a trim waist. "Well?"
"I'll need to make it tight for it to work," she warned, trying not to stare at the firm muscles of his abdomen as she pressed the end of the ace bandage to his upper stomach. "Hold that, will you?"
His hand covered hers before she slipped it out from under his, holding the end as she wound it around his waist. Touching him as she would any patient, she felt something begin to change between them. His nearness affected her deeply, setting her nerves on edge yet at the same time softening her heart toward him. And it seemed that he was holding his breath as if to steel himself against her touch. Facing him once again, she secured the end to one side and looked up. He was staring at her.
Caught in the dark blue haze of his eyes, she held her breath as something shot between them. Stunned, she was aware of a current arcing between them as his eyes narrowed and dropped to her lips. It was her turn to hold her breath, not wanting to break the spell.
He's gorgeous… the realization hit her just as he cleared his throat and looked away. Pulling his shirt back on, he avoided her eyes, but she knew she hadn't imagined the touch of his eyes upon her lips, like a gentle caress.
"Thanks," he said thickly, concentrating on fastening the front of his shirt.
Slinging her bag back over one shoulder, she shook herself mentally. "No problem—if it's too tight we can loosen it."
"It's fine," he said gruffly, starting off again. "Take heart—we're almost to the ridge."
Holscomb studied the footage from the security cameras again, his anger simmering. Now the professor wasn't a surprise, but the scrawny little miss was—he'd never suspected her of anything but meek compliance, so what made her morph into a daring runaway? Morbidly fascinated by the transformation, he'd spent a good hour or two reviewing the psych literature, having come to only one conclusion—the instinct to survive. She'd chosen the professor because he was a Jew too—made sense. What puzzled him was her timing, for neither of them could have had the slightest inkling of the plans he'd been drawing up for them.
"I've underestimated you, my dear," he murmured, zooming the image of her grasping the professor's arm as they shot into the waterfall below. "So determined a weakling…and you both ignored the prohibitions about touching—
no even being near—the dead. But you uncovered a little flaw in our system: the morgue. That will most definitely have to be corrected."
As for the professor, of course he would have gone with her even in the shape he was in. It was amusing, Taylor's choice of such a wounded companion to help her escape. Pulling up the shots of her from Medical, he had to admit that she was a pretty little thing despite proving completely useless as a prospect for breeding and rearing. He watched the clips, noting how she looked right into the camera, so he didn't have the exact evidence. She had, nevertheless, accessed the professor's file, scant as it was, while working there.
That was his other mistake, he was reluctant to admit—not performing genetic testing on her before assigning her to Breeding. If he'd known she had Jewish blood he never would have sent her there, but to the mines instead.
"Good thing you miscarried, my dear," he murmured, "or we would have had a real mess on our hands…too bad about all those wasted hormones."
Judging by the chute photos, it doesn't look like you can swim either…clinging onto the professor that way. You could have drowned him as well as yourself…
Swiveling his chair around he woke up the other computer, typing in the search prompts and bringing up a map of the area. Leaning closer he studied the screen, manipulating the quadrants as he imagined every possible escape route. Of course they'd head southeast into civilization—surely they couldn't have taken much with them, if anything. To survive they'd need to eat and drink, at least until they trickled back into society when they thought it might be safe. Stealing was their only option, and they'd need places to steal from—which meant the nearest city.
All that's necessary is to put out an all-points bulletin and let others do the work, he mused, frowning at another thought—compromising his sterling record of no escapes. And they're only Jews—hardly worth the effort…
"Boss, you just got a fax from Supreme Headquarters," Dale announced, bursting into the office but halting when he looked up with a scowl.
"How many times have I told you not to interrupt?" he shouted, yet his assistant only smiled apologetically, waving the fax.
"May I repeat—Supreme Headquarters, as in European Union Headquarters? And it concerns our escapees—"
"Quiet!" he hissed, looking toward the empty hall beyond the office. "You need to refrain from using that term!"
Dale cringed accordingly, offering the fax like a white flag, which he snatched and read through. His eyes widened.
"A reward—for Jews? They've got to be kidding!"
"'Fraid not, it's legit, Boss," Dale sighed, eyeing the maps. "You tracking possible routes?"
"I was," Holscomb replied angrily, setting aside the fax. "Now we really need to go after them."
"But what about your record?" Dale squeaked. "If you issue an alert your reputation will go down the drain."
"No one needs to know—we'll track them ourselves."
"But that will take hours, and the cost would be prohibitive!"
"Not with the kind of a reward they're offering," Holscomb stated, rubbing his hands together. "Too bad we didn't get the word sooner, or I would have turned them over. Well, no use grieving the past—you bought the professor and know Taylor better than I do, where do you think they headed?"
"Buying isn't knowing, and Taylor's sweet but just as close-mouthed," Dale shrugged.
"Give it a try," Holdsomb ordered his assistant, who leaned over to study the maps critically. "How did he come out of Interrogation?"
"In pretty bad shape," Holdscomb admitted, pointing to the southernmost portion of his map. "That would be my guess since he couldn't make it too far. And she can't swim, which rules out a water route."
"I agree, but Ashland would be my choice for final destination," Dale announced, straightening. "She's from there, and it wasn't wiped out like the North. Otherwise I'd say some geologic center other than Seattle, which is gone."
"Didn't his name pop up as the source of the alert in Vancouver?"
"It did, if that's his real name...the guy's practically a hometown hero up there."
"Then he won't head there—any geophysics centers in Oregon?"
"I'll check on that," Dale nodded. "So you heading for Peck or Lenore?"
"Both—you check the reservation."
Dale's eyes widened. "The Nez Perce? They won't cooperate!"
"They might," Holscomb stated, steepling his fingers together. "Get the chopper teams ready for a search, and send the canine units directly around the river to the south and west. I'll ride with one of the pilots and be in touch. They already have a pretty good start, but then again they're not in very good shape, are they?"
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