Captive (16 page)

If he hasn’t been captured by poachers,
Addy thought but didn’t say. She nodded and began ripping and tying together the bedsheets Tess had brought. Once she made her bedsheet rope, Tess would take it back to the house and hide it in the bathroom until Addy had a chance to escape. She’d then break through Ferly Mor’s window and rappel down into the city.

“Be quick,” Tess said. “I have to go soon. Ferly Mor placed chokers on Da and me. He only does that before taking us from HuBReC.”

“I can escape tonight then.” The excitement percolating inside had to be tamped down in order to concentrate. She couldn’t afford making any mistakes. If her knots weren’t tight she’d break her neck climbing out of the window.

“I’ll miss you, Addy.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” The words came out easier than she thought they would have. She’d never been one to make friends with women so quickly, but Tess had been kind and patient and almost motherly—in a good way.

“Take care of yourself and that baby.”

She nodded. If only she knew how to take care of a baby. She’d grown up an only child, and her mother never hung around other young moms because her wilderness rescue job kept them surrounded by men. Addy had been a tomboy, she never babysat anyone, and she never gushed over other people’s children.

Just like Mom.

Her heart sank. “I’m going to make a terrible parent. My kid’s going to hate me.”

“Don’t be silly. Your baby is lucky to have you for a parent. I’ve never known another woman with more strength and determination. I know you’ll succeed at anything you want to. Including being a loving mother.” The sincerity in Tess’s eyes was overwhelming. No other woman had ever believed in Addy that much.

Blinking back tears, she reached for Tess and gave her a hug. “Thank you.” She really would miss her friend.

Now all she had to do was get to clan before giving birth.

After suppertime, Max had disappeared—like he had the past two nights since the removal of his cast—so he wasn’t around to witness Addy pulling on her form-fitting, white thermal suit. Not that any man would want to watch a pregnant chick dress.

Except maybe Regan.

No, he’d rather rip off their clothes. She shuddered. Well, in another hour she wouldn’t have to worry about Regan or Max ever again.

She slipped into her backpack, too heavy with supplies. It didn’t matter how many times she had dug through searching for unnecessary items to take out. She needed everything: food, canteen, first aid supplies, lightstick, knife, prenatal gun. Of course, a compass and map would have been good...and some energy bars...a polar tent...a snowmobile...a space shuttle...an OB/GYN—.

Okay, okay. Focus.

Back home she had never gone camping with so little. But thoughts of the Underground Railroad and the slaves who’d successfully escaped with only the clothes on their backs fortified her. She could do this.

She shrugged into her backpack and concealed her white thermal suit beneath Duncan’s dark cloak. She slapped the button on the wall, stepped through the white cloud, and took her first step toward freedom.

She entered the Yard under the cover of a moonless night and sprinted into the trees, staying in the shadows for fear someone might see her through their observation wall.

Katydids chirped and whirred. A screech owl hooted in the distance. Any other night she would have taken comfort in the glittering sky and nature’s music. But not tonight. Nothing could calm her heart, which was scampering like a chipmunk on espresso.

When she reached the edge of the trees in front of Duncan’s house, she flipped up her hood, kept her head low as she ran to his door praying no one, especially Regan, would see her.

She entered a quiet and empty house and breathed in relief. She hung up the cloak, shouldered the bedsheet rope Tess had hid for her, and then borrowed Duncan’s twenty-seven-inch, hand-painted, cast-iron garden gnome. She stepped inside Ferly Mor’s apartment for what she hoped would be the last time.

Securing the rope to the couch had been easy. Climbing it with a heavy backpack and lugging an almost fifty-pound garden gnome had been somewhat trickier. Of course, this was icing-flowers on the cake compared to what challenges awaited out there in the Hyborean night.

Few vehicles passed on the empty street below.

She could do this. She could break the transparent wall and climb down the twenty feet. Hadn’t she scaled and rappelled higher confidence-course walls? This should be easier. She didn’t have to place her trust in a belayer.

She pressed her hand to the windowed wall. The thermal suit prevented an icy chill from reaching her fingertips. The high-tech material would protect her from the arctic environment. Plus it was white, a perfect camouflage.

She really could do this.

Knees bent in a solid stance, Addy lifted the statue onto her shoulder like a baseball bat. She took a few deep psyche-up breaths, preparing for a glass-shattering home run.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

She screamed and dropped the gnome onto the cushions. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come for you.”

“Why?”

“Hell, woman, you gonna play twenty questions or do you want to escape?”

Addy jumped to the cushions and then off the couch. “You’re going to help me escape?”

“No. I’m helping
us
escape.”

“Are you serious? You’ll freeze out there.” Max was still wearing torn pants and a T-shirt.

“Let me worry about that. You said you were a strong woman and that you can make it to the equator.”

“That’s right.”

“It’s a long and dangerous journey.”

“I know.”

“Then know this. My life isn’t worth spit. If I get caught again, I’m dead for good. You slow me down, I leave you behind.”

She gulped.

“Still want to escape?”

“Yes.”

“Then get your rope and follow me.”

Inside Duncan’s bedroom, Max rattled the doorknob to the closet. He took a little tool out of his pocket and picked the lock.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting supplies.” He disappeared inside.

“But I already have a bottle of whiskey.”

He peaked out from behind the door. “You have no clue what’s in here, do you?”

Evidently, more than whiskey. She followed him into Duncan’s secret closet. The little room, lined floor to ceiling with shelves, had been packed with books, clothing, pictures, cups, plates, guns, knives, and boxes of God knew what other Earth treasures.

A folded khaki uniform atop one of the boxes caught her attention. It couldn’t be, could it? Though it had been washed clean, the heady fragrance of wood smoke clung to the fabric. “Why would he hide this from me?”

“Damn you, Duncan,” Max muttered, and tossed a box aside.

“What’s wrong?”

“The guy collects seven guns but only one with ammunition.”

“One is better than none.”

“Hardly. There’re only three bullets in it. He rummaged through some other boxes and whistled in awe when he unsheathed a Rambo-looking knife. “I’ll be damned.”

She returned the uniform to the shelf. “What?”

“Kedric’s Flesheater.” He turned the fourteen-inch stainless-steel weapon in his hand. “Nine-inch blade. Short handle with finger grooves for a secure grip. A recurved lower edge designed to cut through a man and keep better edge contact than a straight knife. This is one serious weapon.”

Addy gulped. He certainly knew his knives.

“How the hell did Duncan get this?” Max sheathed the Flesheater, stuffing it and the gun into his backpack along with some other items before leaving the room.

He relocked the closet and led Addy back to the main room. “Put this on.” He tossed her Duncan’s cloak. “I don’t want your thermal suit giving us away out there.”

Max sublimated the door to the Yard and they slipped out into the dark night, heading straight to HuBReC.

“Why are we back at the infirmary?”

Max didn’t answer. He climbed to the top of the foyer’s shelf, pulled out his all-purpose tool, and easily unscrewed a ceiling panel. “Come on.” He disappeared into the ductwork.

Once she joined him, he repositioned the panel over the hole, pocketed the large screws and crawled above HuBReC until they came to another panel. This one he plucked out without needing to unscrew it first.

Max took off his pack, leaving it in the duct, and lowered himself through the ceiling, hanging for a moment before dropping onto a counter. His presence triggered the lights.

There were no windows or observation walls in the examination room, so that minimized the chance of anyone seeing them. She doubted any Hyboreans were working at this late hour. Unless they had an emergency, they usually clocked out before their evening meal.

Max motioned for her to come down. Following his lead, she took off her pack and lowered herself through the hole, feet dangling. His arms encircled her legs, and he slid her down his hard body. Once her feet touched the countertop, she leaped out of his arms, pulse pounding from more than the fear of getting caught.

She had to get ahold of herself. If she were going to escape with the guy, they were bound to touch each other.

Max jumped to the floor with a sharp intake of air. The guy had only been healing for two weeks—how did he maneuver so well on his broken leg?

“Come here.” Max was holding what looked like oversized wire cutters. “If you leave the apartment complex with your choker on, it will alert your master.”

“Really? What about cutting it? Won’t that alert him?”

“Not in here.”

“Why not?”

“Chokers shut off automatically in exam rooms. They screw with the instrumentation. Kind of like electrical devices at takeoff or cell phones in a hospital.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I’ve never been shocked in an exam room when I should have been. On more than one occasion.” He snapped off her chain, and it fell to the floor.

Rubbing her neck, she thought back to the exam room a few days ago. Xanthrag hadn’t shocked her after she’d punched and bit him. He waited until she was out of the exam area before hurling his vengeance.

Max snapped his own choker then used adhesives found in a drawer to tape them to the top inside wall of a cabinet.

“What are you doing?”

“Buying time.” He quickly put everything back where he found it before they climbed back through the ceiling. The lights below shut off. She crawled behind him in the dark space until he stopped and snapped on a lightstick. The duct made a ninety-degree turn straight up.

Her breaths came out in puffs of white. At least the cold duct air prevented her from overheating. She thought about discarding Duncan’s cloak, but feared a Hyborean maintenance worker might find it. There couldn’t be any trace of their escape.

“You first.” He moved aside so she could pass.

Standing in the duct, she glanced upward. “That has to be over thirty feet tall.”

“Forty-one.” Max snapped off the light. “This is the easy part. If you’ve changed your mind about escaping, tell me now.”

“No way.” She pushed the cloak behind her shoulders, planted her feet and hands on each side of the duct and carefully shimmy-stepped up, thankful for the nonskid grip on her Hyborean shoes and the ridges every ten feet where two pieces of ductwork had been fastened together.

She climbed and rested and climbed and rested until she reached a T at the top. “Which way?”

“Left.” He pushed her legs up. A moment later she sensed his arms, his head, then the rest of his body emerge from the hole. She barely caught her breath before Max continued on past her. They crawled for what felt like hours through a dark maze. Up. Down. Left. Right. For the hundredth time she fought the urge to ask him if he had any clue where he was going.

“This is it.” Max easily lifted another ventilation panel. So that was what he’d been doing these past nights after disappearing from the kennel. Unscrewing panels. Preparing for an escape.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Xanthrag’s apartment.”

“What?” His large hand covered her mouth, crushing her lips to her teeth. She struggled in his grip but he pulled her hard to his chest, holding tight.

Did Regan make him bring her here? Had they struck some sort of deal? Why did she listen to this bastard? She knew she couldn’t trust anybody.

“Settle down, woman.” His whispered breath was hot in her ear. “We can’t survive the arctic without thermal cream and protective gear. Xanthrag keeps them in this room.”

When Addy stopped moving, his grip relaxed. “I’m going to remove my hand. Don’t make a sound. Understand?”

She nodded.

He let her go. “Stay here while I retrieve the gear. If I get caught, stay quiet, stay hidden. No matter what you hear, do not let Xanthrag find you.”

Her heart pounded for him. And for herself. If Max got caught, she couldn’t survive the outside temperatures without that special gear. If Max got caught, she couldn’t escape. If Max got caught, she didn’t know how to get out of the ductwork.

He retrieved her bedsheet rope from his backpack, tugged on it to be sure the knots were secure, and tied one end to a bracket in the ductwork before climbing down. Lights illuminated a room full of gladiator equipment. Swords, knives, bows and arrows, and other weapons stood behind a transparent case. Not sparing them a glance, Max moved by the weapons to the colorful thermal suits hanging from wall pegs. He took the lightest color, a winter gray, and found matching tall, chunky-soled, piratelike boots.

Holding her breath, Addy watched him sneak around the room gathering things, stuffing them into his pack and rearranging the clothing on the pegs, making it less obvious something was missing.

On the wall opposite the suits, dozens of holographic movie clips played images of men fighting and killing huge angry beasts and each other. One showed a large dirty-blond man covered with blood. Regan. He ran a sword through another bloody gladiator who staggered forward. Regan kicked him and he fell onto his back in the snow. Max’s green eyes stared at the sky, sightless. Dead.