"What do you mean drive?" Max asked him.
Brium sighed. She was unnecessarily difficult. "I mean just that. We're going to drive to Los Angeles. One, it'll draw far less attention, two we can do it at our leisure; no rush because we're not in the open, and three, I really don't want to have to carry a shotgun in flight the whole way there. It just makes more sense this way."
"We'd be faster if we fly," Max stared at him.
"I'm aware of that. Right now, speed is not necessary. If the flock's at the School there they will stay. And I know exactly where it is."
"But what if the Whitecoats kill them?!" Max stood up to her full height; a good few inches shorter than him.
What the hell was a Whitecoat? Brium figured she must mean the scientists, so he rolled with that conclusion.
"If they wanted them dead, why not kill them in the first place?" Brium asked. "We have time, Max, and I for one will not rush something as delicate as a rescue operation. You're going to have to trust me. And yes, I am aware what a steep request that is for you follow."
Talk about stubborn.
Over the course of his freedom, Brium had become really good at reading people. Max was stubborn. It was going to be interesting to work with, especially to him; someone used to doing things without having to explain himself. It would cost time. Brium hoped that Max would learn that he was usually right, and follow him accordingly.
It was an outside chance, of course, but it still merited hope.
Brium had had an interesting time pulling this girl out of the fire. If only Max and Fang had waited just a few more moments before jumping in to try and save the rest of the flock, Brium might have been able to stop them and formulate a more serviceable plan than simply flying full tilt into a known ambush. It had been easy enough to follow them there, but he just hadn't been able to get to them in time.
So then he had to hold Max hostage, cut her throat a bit for good measure, and then fly out of there carrying her.
Granted, she was like him; hollow bones and other such weight savers to help with flight, but still.
It was lucky that it was getting dark, because Brium didn't really want to explain why he was carrying an injured, unconscious girl around. Needless to say, getting to the hotel room had been and adventure all in itself.
Then she had slept. A lot longer than he had anticipated.
This was good though, because during slow moments, when he wasn't helping her eat or use the bathroom, Brium had had time to leave for about an hour to buy some clothes to replace his ruined ones, and more ammunition for his pistol and shotgun.
He had had only twenty-one bullets during the ill planned assault on the truck; nineteen short of his normal payload. And of course he hadn't carried the shotgun with him, knowing he'd be searching for a while (over ten hours, as it turned out) and wanted to be as light as possible for the extended adventure.
All in all, it had been an interesting week, that was for sure.
Brium remembered sitting in Denny's nearly five days before, thinking of meeting the flock. And now here he was. Not with the flock per se, but its leader.
A stubborn, ill tempered, irrational fourteen year old girl.
Quite his opposite in many respects.
This was going to be tricky.
Max seemed unhappy with his response.
"When are we saving the others?" she asked.
She really didn't think things through.
"In a few days. I need some things first."
She put her hands on her hips. "Like what?" she demanded.
Might as well tell her.
"I haven't finalized the list yet, but I'll need a few more guns, a van of a certain size and a hefty amount of C-4 plastic explosive."
Max's eyes widened, and Brium predicted some sort of objection. Which he had assumed would happen before he had even told her what he needed.
"I don't like guns. And explosives? You must be kidding."
"Kidding is something I don't do. Do you want your flock saved or not? You are in no way capable of doing it yourself, especially not utilizing your current methods," Brium said, shifting in his new T-shirt a bit, getting as comfortable as possible.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Max's voice raised a notch.
"Exactly what it sounds like it means," Brium smiled. "Now, we'll leave in a few minutes go shopping and rent a car. We'll be on the road to Los Angeles in under two hours."
Max raised an eyebrow. "Shopping for what?"
"For you, of course. Unless you'd prefer to continue wearing those tattered clothes."
She didn't quite have a smart comeback for that. She was just a teenage girl, after all, and they all seemed to like shopping. Almost a weakness.
It seemed ridiculous, but Brium wanted her wearing clothes that looked new, so to minimize how suspicious they looked. He was totally appealing to her vanity to further his cause, but that seemed the be the way to go with stubborn teenage girls.
"That would be nice. Thanks," Max muttered.
"And I'll pay for it of course," Brium added.
"Thanks…" she muttered again. She seemed caught totally off guard by how nice he was trying to be and he understood that completely. Here was a girl who had lived her whole life either as a prisoner or on the run to prevent becoming a prisoner again. Trust wasn't exactly an easy thing to gain with her.
But the life that had just been described was an exact copy of Brium's own life. Only he was better at it than she was, and he knew who he could and could not trust.
He only wished for the power to convey to Max that she could trust him. Probably more so than anyone else she had ever met. Perhaps even more so than her own flock.
But there was plenty of time for that later.
"Alrighty," Brium said, moving to stand next to his bed. He knelt down and reached under the bed pulling out the shotgun. He left the box of shells where they were.
Brium was already carrying the pistol and extra magazines in his new camouflaged shorts. He wondered if Max had noticed the absence of dried blood on the shorts and had figured he had bought a new pair.
He had also bought more socks, a couple pairs of boxer underwear, and a new black sweatshirt to replace the one that had been destroyed at Red Feather Lakes. What a day that had been.
Brium checked the shotgun over, making sure it was loaded and ready to use. He than put it back under the bed.
He stood up and pulled out the pistol, checking it over as well.
Max stared at him in silence.
"Who are you?" she finally said.
"Brium," he answered. "Not much more than that… My story's very similar to yours; perhaps I'll tell it to you someday." Brium turned to face her. "But you have to trust me, Max." Brium didn't like repeating himself, but this point was something that needed to be repeated until she believed it. "I didn't originally want to drag yourself or your flock into my life. My life's awfully touch and go. It can get violent and it can get desperate very quickly and I always assumed you and yours were better off on your own. I was wrong and I apologize. But, it must be stated that even if I had been looking for you from the start, I may not have found you. It was a stroke of pure luck that I found you at all."
Brium put the pistol back in his pocket and offered a smile, starting to the door.
"Grab your shoes, Max. They're right over there," he said.
Author's Note:
Much like my other stories, this one will be heavily thought motivated, making it sort of slow at times… Sorry… But that's just how I write, I guess. Hope it doesn't get too slow, anyway.