Chapter 27

“Who are you?” A hard but feminine voice demanded near my right ear, “You have four seconds to tell me before I pull this trigger."

“—uh." I said as my brain struggled to catch up. A gun was pointed at my head by some unknown person. Before, I'd gotten an adrenaline jolt, but now? I suddenly felt very...VERY tired. Almost drunk-like. Exhausted and barely able to keep up with the new developments, my brain did what it always did when I was caught flat-footed and unable to think. I blurted out the first question to come to mind.

“Why four, and not a more common number like five or ten?”

There was a long pause as if the world had to parse what to do with my abject stupidity. In regular "me" fashion, just like back at Rob's Pod when he'd accidentally activated his mods, I'd asked a question entirely oblivious to the dangers the words might pull forth.

In my defense? At least this time, I had a good excuse.

I am beyond tired.

"You—what?!" the woman with the gun sputtered.

"The count." I said, far more calmly than I had any right to rationally be with a loaded gun poking me. If she were a giant and was the idiot that I was, she had just gotten hit by a mere pebble and was simply in the process of deciding which method would be needed to turn me into a fine paste.

She made a movement, a tiny head shake. I felt the cold barrel of the gun poke me as her mental gears were switched unexpectedly. "The what?" She repeated again. Based on the perplexed tone of her voice, I'm pretty certain whatever she expected me to say, that wasn’t it.

"The count." I said it again, more clearly. "We, humans, that is, are base ten creatures. Ten fingers, ten toes—it's like we've got a natural affinity for choosing numbers like 'five' or 'ten' to count things down."

I paused as a stray thought hit me, "Maybe it's an evolutionary thing?"

The gun wavered for a moment as the figure tried to make sense of what I was saying.

"Wait. Are you asking me?!"

"Huh?" I asked distractedly.

The sleep deprivation was making me sluggish. Despite the sudden clarity of the adrenaline spike, I felt like I was stuck in a loop. Floating a little like I'd had a little too much to drink and not enough time to absorb it. Logically I knew I needed to worry about the gun, but analytically? "No. Sorry. I was just...well, I do that sometimes when I'm tired. I ramble." My words were coming out smoothly. Clearly. Barely a tremor to be heard. If I weren't being held at gunpoint, I might have even thought to smile at my own personal growth. I wasn't usually the kind of person who could talk under so much pressure.

Go me!

"Anyway," I continued, mentally detached like I wasn't even in my own body anymore. "You didn't answer my question. Why did you choose four seconds versus something more common like five or ten?"

The woman paused for a moment. Thinking. "Maybe I was just subitizing, genius. Ever think of that?"

"Subsidizing?" I asked, intrigued.

"—itizing. Sub—Eye—Tie—Zing." She said, correcting me by enunciating the proper sounds. "It's what people do when they've got numbers less than five and can instantly identi—" The gun dug into my temple. Harder this time. "Hey! Shut up!" she said irritably. She'd realized very quickly she'd been too focused on the wrong thing. A pity. I was almost out of time.

"The number isn't the point." She said, tapping the barrel into my temple again, "The POINT is you need to tell me what you're doing here and who you are, or I'm going to—"

The sound of a locking click came from further behind me, from behind her. It was a mechanism being locked back: the hammer of another pistol.

A revolver, to be exact.

Rob's revolver.

“Ah ah ahhhh,” Rob’s voice said, in a playful admonishment, “What’d I tell you about hyper-focusing on something obvious? You want me to explain to Frank just how easy it was to sneak up on you sneaking up on someone else?” '

The feminine voice grumbled in a way that reminded me of Rob when he was annoyed. Uncannily. "Dammit, Rob! Any way I can pay you not to tell him? His head’s already big enough as it is.”

I turned as she holstered her sidearm and sighed. It was the green-speckled-eyed girl from the plaza: Sam.

Sam's hands darted into the air in mock indignation. A smirking scowl spread across her face. “I should’ve known you’d use a decoy. Tisk, tisk, Rob. Getting old enough to need help?”

“DECOY?!” I exclaimed, louder than I meant to. Both Rob and Sam winced. Their body language was even uncannily similar as they hissed simultaneously to tell me to keep it down. If I didn't know any better, I would've assumed they were related despite the size differences. Rob practically dwarfed her with his larger height by a full head. It put her just about equal to my own height.

Sam pushed down her hood.

The left side of her head was buzzed smooth, a pronounced side-swept undercut accentuating a single streak of electric blue hair. The locks slid forward as they were freed, and she instinctively brushed away a stray lock before crossing her arms to glare.

Whew. She is not a fan of me.

“You wanna get us killed?!” The woman said in irritation.

“He’s new, Sam,” Rob said as he held out a hand to cut me off before I could murmur the halfhearted apology already on my lips, “New to just about everything. Don’t hold it against him, alright?” His voice was soft but stern. A father ending the squabble between siblings.

Despite the coat, a long jacket similar to the one Rob had given me, it was still fairly obvious she was a lean, athletic woman in her late twenties. She had a sharp and angular face with a very striking profile. Green speckled eyes above high cheekbones with what my mother would've called "good structure" if she'd seen her.

Sam eyed me suspiciously. “Fine,’ She eventually spat after an extended pause. “Who the hell is he and why’d you bring him?

“Owen?" Rob said, turning toward me before waving a hand in Sam's direction, "Samara Kajimura. We call her Sam, as you’ve likely figured out by now.”

Sam glared daggers at me.

“Uh, hi.” I said, nervously sticking a hand out, “Nice to meet you?”

She didn't move a muscle.

I faltered, not really sure how to take not being answered. “Okay then,” I said, lowering my hand in rejected awkwardness. Sam ignored me, turning to Rob, who was frowning at her.

“I’ve had a hell of a night, okay?" She said. "Pardon if all the pleasantries and la-de-da kumbaya moments aren't something I want to deal with right now, but I got chased tonight. I’m not even sure what I did wrong. I think we’re compromised.”

She kicked a stick, which skittered off under a bush. I had a funny feeling that built under my ribcage.

“Uh--about that...” I said. Rob was shaking his head slowly in a very clear NO signal, but I’d already stepped into it. Sam’s eyes swiveled toward me like a turret, her shoulders tensed as she fully focused on me.

“About. What?" Her left eyebrow twitched. A sure sign of her irritation.

“I—uh—might have been the reason you were--” I said, gulping, “That is to say...”

Rob rescued me as he spoke up to cut me off again, "Golrich was out tonight. Hunting.”

“Golrich?! The Rat Face guy?” Sam said.

I had to hide my grin as she continued. “The hell was he doing hunting me? And how’d they even know where to intercept me? It was a random selection tonight, wasn’t it?”

Rob held his chin in his hand for a moment in thought. “Well, let’s just start with your getting chased.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t a planned thing by Golrich; he was actually trying to track where our young Owen had gone.” He pointed to me with his chin. “Seems Mr. Price had a measure of success in evading the hounds. Your trail became the one being tracked, so I’m--”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as she whirled on me, making me practically jump out of my skin just from the pure intensity of the look. “This is YOUR fault!” She hissed, finger extended into my face as she advanced.

I attempted to back away, hands raised in an attempt to placate her. The pack, still where it was behind me, tangled up perfectly with my ankles as I fell. Not just to the ground. Down the side of an embankment on the other side of the line of bushes.

I landed with an audible “oof” sound as the air left my lungs as I stared up into the raining sky.

Somehow, miraculously, I was still generally unhurt. Just stunned. I struggled to catch my breath as I heard Sam's huff from above, “Why did you even BRING this guy?!”

Ouch. Not exactly one of my more dignified moments.

I continued to suck in air, still on the ground face up like an overturned turtle. I heard Rob's movements rustle next to me, untangling the straps from my feet as he turned to look back and upward, over his shoulder.

“Sam, wait—” he began. There was a shout from above. A bright pair of lights illuminated Sam’s form as she turned in shock, a harsh voice tore through the air.

“SECURITY! FREEZE!”

Rob cursed under his breath as he dragged me bodily by my feet the short distance onto the embankment. We were nestled into shadow as one of the lights swept from left to right above. The dull roar of the canal served to help cover any errant noise.

Rob pulled out his revolver, holding the barrel close to his chest as he silently stared upward into the foliage line. Our line of sight was blocked.

As quietly as I could, I managed to put my arms back through the straps of the pack in order to roll onto my side. Rob glanced down, a finger to his lips as he held another two aloft, indicating he didn’t know how many more there might be.

I nodded slowly.

A rough voice drifted down to us from above, “Well, what do we have here? Strange we’d find someone out here in the middle of the night, isn’t it, Paul?"

“Yep,” Paul, voice number two, said. “They’ve got us looking for suspicious characters snooping around the Stacks tonight.” He paused, spitting into the dirt, “You wouldn’t happen to know if there are any suspicious characters around, would you?”

“What would be suspicious?” Sam asked. The lights bobbled a little, as if the two figures were looking at each other for confirmation.

“Oh,” Voice One said, “you’re a girl?”

“Did they say we should be looking for a girl?” Paul asked.

“Nope. But they did say 'suspicious'.” Voice One said.

“Hmm,” Paul replied, tapping a finger on something.

“I’d say,” he said, “it’s mighty suspicious for a pretty little thing like you to be all by your lonesome. You live somewhere nearby?”

Whoa. That didn’t sound aboveboard.

“Hey, Paul, listen...” Voice One said, apparently also concerned.

“Shut it, Tim!” Paul said, “I’m cold. I’m tired. I didn’t get to go on leave when you guys did, so maybe, just maybe, it’s time you just take a little break while I process this suspicious character.”

The tone of “Paul’s” voice made my skin crawl. Judging by the white-knuckled grip Rob had on his revolver, he didn’t like it either.

There was a rustle and clatter of dirt as Sam took an involuntary half step back. Both flashlights focused on her immediately, casting strange and jagged shapes as the beams locked onto her freezing form. They were dispersed, a good ten or so feet between them, judging by the angles of the lights.

A single stick tumbled down the embankment toward me, bouncing end over end before it tested against my left boot, which stood half sunken into the growing pile of mud below us. It was about the length of my forearm and somewhat thicker at the end. I grabbed it, hefting its weight. It made for a decent club.

Better than nothing, I suppose.

“Ah, ah, green spaces like these? So near Canals in the rain?” Paul said the roaring of the water to the west was loud enough to enunciate his point. The rain noise swelled as he continued, “Wouldn’t want to have to report finding a drowned body. So sad when it happens too. Some poor soul trying to sneak around in the dead of night.” He made a tisking noise with his tongue.

Rob crept slowly up to the embankment. Though the rain, loose soil, and debris from above made the action difficult to manage in the dark, he made it about two-thirds of the way before needing to stop. He leaned his shoulder against the ground, just below the line of light cutting the darkness above.

Even to me, it was clear he'd need to fire on both guards if he were seen. The sound of the heavy gunshots would be guaranteed to alert anyone else in the immediate vicinity. It was the very last thing we'd want.

“Tim,” Paul said from above, “go keep an eye on the other side.”

“Paul—”

“Do what I say.” Paul said through clenched teeth, “Or else.”

There was a pause. Rob was still as a statue. Waiting.

“What if you need help?” Tim asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“From who? Her?” The flashlight swept up and down slowly. “You’re not going to give me any trouble, are you?”

“I--uh...” Sam began as one of the lights clicked off, and there was a rustle as, I’d guess, Paul slung his weapon.

“Paul,” Tim said feebly, “we’re supposed to stick together, especially now since we’re not supposed to be--”

“Fine,” Paul’s voice said. It was icy and brittle. “You just stand there and watch then.”

There were steps: Paul moved toward Sam.

“You’re being detained,” Paul said, the sound of his voice dry and raspy. The click of a locking pocketknife was audible even through the rain. “I suggest you don’t resist—or do. Won’t matter either way.”

Multiple scenarios flashed through my mind: Paul and Tim managing to gain the upper hand because of their superior position and weaponry. The noise of gunshots in any number of different permutations and how it would give away our position. Sam and her proximity to a sudden and violent crossfire, there were simply too many unknowns to say with any real certainty where the next moment might lead. I felt helpless as I imagined what might be going through Sam's mind, and it enraged me.

My mind raced as I observed Rob. He pressed both of his feet into the mud slowly to secure his footing and was ready to jump. His eyes roamed as they searched for the right moment, but his vision was limited in order to remain unexposed.

From my vantage nothing seemed like the "right" thing to do. The brightness of a flashlight approached the crest of the berm. Time was almost up.

If Rob shoots, Sam might be good as dead. My brain tumbled with mental calculations, all involving what I promise were very serious considerations as, not thinking, just doing, I did the only thing I could with what I had.

I stood and hurled the stick over the foliage line.