Ejecta (24 page)

A locomotive thumped and metal clanked as a yard engine towed a string of box cars through a maze of crisscrossing tracks. The train was only moving at about ten-mph as they ran next to it. “Grab the ladder,” the youngster instructed. “And climb up.”

That was easier said than done. But Devlin managed to accomplish the feat and was soon climbing hand-over-hand so that her rescuer would have room below. Her purse got in the way at times but hung from a strap. “Not bad!” the boy yelled, as the box car jerked and swayed. “We’ll make a train hopper out of you yet.”

Eventually, after ordering Devlin to drop off the boxcar, the boy led Devlin up a slippery concrete slope to a ledge that was sheltered by the bridge above. Judging from all the litter the concrete cave had been used many times before. “We can’t start a fire,” the teenager explained. “Because that would attract trouble. But what we
can
do is lay down on that big piece of cardboard. Then we'll spoon-up with my blanket on top. When daylight comes we'll sort everything out. Okay?”

Words were increasingly difficult. So Devlin nodded and lay down on the piece of cardboard. She was exhausted and ready to try anything. The boy fit his body to hers, the blanket settled over them, and the cold began to recede. Not enough to actually feel warm. But enough to fall into a troubled sleep in spite of the occasional rumble of diesel engines.

When morning came, and Devlin awoke, she felt even colder than before. And then, with a start, she realized that the boy was gone. She sat up, threw the blanket off, and fumbled for her purse. The roll of currency was missing.

The boy's duffle bag was there however which made the scientist feel a little better. But not by much since he might have chosen to abandon it. Her feet were caked with dried blood and blue with cold. She hurried to wrap the blanket around them and struggled to clear her mind.

It wasn’t easy. The deep yearning kept getting in the way. The parasite wanted to move. But how? Devlin knew the government could track debit cards, credit cards, and bank withdrawals. Even cell phones. So what could she do?

The conflict between what the parasite wanted to do, and what was possible, produced a flood of despair. And that, like all of her emotions, was amplified somehow. The scientist was sobbing when a cheerful voice was heard. “Hey, lady, I’m baaack!”

There were scuffling sounds as the youngster battled his way up the steep slope. When he appeared at the top Devlin saw that he was carrying a fully loaded pack plus a plastic bag that was dangling from his left wrist.

“There,” he said, as he scooted forward. “Safe and sound. Whoa, what’s wrong lady? Oh, you thought I took your money. Well, I certainly could have,” the boy added sternly, as he lowered the groceries to the ground. “You’ll need to be a lot more careful now that you’re a tramp. Take last night for example.
Never
pull money out where other people can see it. Not even a five-dollar bill. People get killed for less.

“Here,” the young man said, as he wrestled the roll out of a pants pocket and gave it over. “It’s all there. Except for $316.04 that is, which I spent to set you up.

“The pack is used,” he explained, as he placed the object in front of her. “And that's good. ‘Cause a new one would attract the wrong sort of attention. Once you open it up you’ll find two sets of clothes, plus some socks, and a decent pair of boots. I had to guess at the size. But we'll trade ‘em in if I was wrong. And there’s first aid stuff too—so we can treat those cuts.

“I got a few things for myself too,” the teenager added. “Some candy plus two cartons of cigarettes. That’s ‘cause I smoke. But you can trade ‘em for stuff, and keep the cash hidden away.”

At that point the young man knelt next to Devlin, removed a canister of wet wipes from the plastic bag, and unscrewed the lid. Then, with a surprising amount of tenderness, he went to work cleaning her feet. Once the worst of the dirt had been removed he dabbed disinfectant into the cuts and applied band aids to the open cuts.

“You don’t talk a lot, do you lady? Well, that’s okay, ‘cause I do.
Too
much. That’s what some people say—but that’s just them! Most folks call me ‘Nail.’ That’s ‘cause I’m tall and skinny. Like a nail…. Get it? How ‘bout you lady? What do people call
you?”

Devlin’s mouth felt unnaturally dry as Nail finished working on her feet and stood. She struggled to form the necessary words. “They call me Sara.”

“Okay, Sara…. Now here’s what I want you to do. I know it’s cold, but you need to shuck those clothes, and climb into the ones I bought for you. The long johns go on first, ‘cause layers are important, followed by
two
pairs of socks. Then, once you’re dressed, breakfast will be served!”

Devlin looked up at the boy. Nail had short hair. And, judging from the way it looked, it had been hacked off rather than cut. He had large expressive eyes, a slightly upturned nose, and full lips. One of which had been pierced to accommodate a silver ring. Even though the rest of Nail’s body was obscured by multiple layers of clothing he still looked skinny.

An enormous feeling of gratitude rose to fill the scientist’s throat. The words were inadequate but all she could manage. “Thank you.”

Nail smiled. “You’re welcome. Now stand up, get out of those clothes, and take a sponge bath. I promise not to look.”

After a quick wipe down, Devlin slipped into some long underwear, and was pleased to discover that it fit reasonably well. The next layer consisted of insulated pants, the kind that construction workers wear, and a plaid shirt. All under a windproof Army parka. It wrapped her in so much warmth that Devlin knew she could sleep in the coat alone should that became necessary. Then came two pairs of socks. Those, when combined with some durable work boots, soon restored feeling to her toes.

And there was coffee! Delicious
hot
coffee, poured from a beat-up aluminum thermos, and served with three chocolate covered doughnuts. Plus cheap sleeping bags for each of them, some toiletries, and a wicked looking clasp knife that Nail said she should carry at all times.

The teenager sat on his haunches and watched as Devlin began to load her pack. “So, Sara,” Nail asked casually. “What’s going on with your back?”

The parasite was visible! Devlin felt a nearly paralyzing sense of fear. Because she knew the alien organism was not only growing but sending its horrible white tendrils down towards her spine. She forced herself to look up from what she was doing. Each word required energy that she was loathe to expend. “Nothing... I have a birth defect.”

Nail took out a pack of cigarettes, shook one loose, and put the rest away. Then, cupping his hands so as to protect the disposable lighter from a sudden breeze, he lit up. There was something sensual about the way the teenager took the smoke deep into his lungs and allowed it to trickle out of his nostrils. “Nothing, huh? Well, let me tell you something. I slept with you last night, and that ‘birth defect’ can move around. Not far. But three or four inches in any given direction and that’s pretty weird. Explain
that.”

Devlin couldn’t explain that. Not anymore, so the scientist did the only thing she could, which was to change the subject. It felt as though her mouth was full of rocks, making it difficult to form words. “South,” she said earnestly. “I want to go south.”

***

Nail rocked slightly, front to back, his eyes slitted against the smoke. Either the woman couldn’t, or wouldn’t answer his question, but that was to be expected. Most of the people who populated Nail's world were not only on the run from something but reluctant to talk about it. Only difference was that whatever was riding the woman’s back was truly riding the woman’s back.

As for south, well that was a good idea come winter time, except for one thing. Hundreds of other hobos, tramps, and drifters were headed that way as well. And that would add to the danger. Of course this had to be balanced against the fact that Sara had money and
he
had Sara. As for the growth on her back, he could live with that, so long as she could.

“Okay,” Nail said finally. “South it is…. What have you got in mind? California? Arizona? Texas?”

“I don't know,” Sara confessed. “I don't need to do I?”

“No,” Nail replied. “You sure as hell don't.”

***

Cooper and his team had set up a temporary command post in the Henry M. Jackson federal building. It consisted of a conference room, a hodgepodge of mismatched furniture, and some networked laptops. There had been a formal after action review earlier that morning. And the long narrow table at the center of the room was littered with half empty Starbucks cups, napkins, and left over crumbs. With the exception of Cooper who had been there since 6:00 AM, and Palmer who had arrived an hour later, the room was empty for the moment.

More than twenty four hours had passed since Devlin's escape and Palmer was growing increasingly frustrated as he waited for Cooper to finish a long series of phone calls. Palmer was tired and had every right to be since he'd been up for most of the night following up on false sightings.

The last and probably most reliable report had been received the previous day. A cop in a squad car had spotted Devlin in the slightly seedy Pioneer Square area about 5:00 PM. But, after he bailed out of the cruiser to pursue her on foot, she had disappeared into a building that was home to more than a dozen shops. After searching the complex he came up empty.

So where was Devlin? Palmer wondered. Safe and sound in a flop house? Or sleeping on the streets somewhere? Not knowing was eating away at him.

Cooper flipped his phone closed and placed it on the table in front of him. “So?” Palmer inquired. “Is there any news?”

“Nope,” Cooper replied. “Not regarding Sara.” He was toying with a cigarette but knew better than to light it, having had his ass reamed by an angry GS-12 half an hour earlier. It seemed that Seattleites took their smoking bans seriously.

Palmer could tell that Cooper was disappointed. But
why?
For professional reasons? Or because he cared about Devlin? It was impossible to tell. “The boys and girls in blue haven't seen anything since the glimpse in Pioneer Square,” Cooper added. “But eventually she will use her cell phone. Or make a credit card purchase.”

Palmer wasn't so sure. A phone call was a possibility. But why would Sara use a credit card if she was packing five-grand? And wasn't that the purpose of withdrawing so much cash? So she could run the same way Quinton had? But Palmer knew that Cooper knew. So he kept his mouth shut.

“In the meantime,” Cooper said, as his eyes came into contact with Palmer's. “We could use your help on a related matter. If you're willing, that is.”

“And if I'm not?”

Cooper shrugged. “Then it's back to Arizona.”

“Meaning I'd be off the team?”

Cooper grinned. “Exactly.”

Palmer knew what that meant. He'd be out of the flow with no way to know what was going on. “You're an asshole.”

Cooper's grin grew even wider. “That's what they tell me.”

“So, what is the 'related matter?'”

“It's a robbery,” Cooper replied.

Palmer opened his mouth to speak but stopped when the other man raised a hand. “Hear me out. An event called the
Galactic Gem and Mineral Show
is underway in Portland, Oregon. Are you familiar with it?”

Palmer nodded. “I was scheduled to attend until all this stuff came up. It's a must for meteorite collectors, dealers, and rock hounds.”

“Perfect,” Cooper responded. “I figured you would be familiar with it. Last night some people made use of a Dodge Ram 4 X 4 to crash through a door at the Portland Convention Center. Then they went shopping in one of the exhibition halls. Once the truck was full they left. Apparently they made off with more than a million dollars worth of loot. It's all over the news. Here's the surveillance footage that the Portland Police shared with the FBI.”

Palmer watched as Cooper thumbed a remote. The video was grainy, and in black and white, but included a number of different camera angles. The first shot showed a beefy pickup truck bashing its way through an aluminum roll-up door before skidding to a halt inside the hall.

At that point four people bailed out of the crew cab while the driver remained behind the wheel. There wasn't any audio. But Palmer could see muzzle flashes as the hooded intruders fired handguns at a target that was off-camera. “They killed one security guard,” Cooper said levelly. “And wounded another. Neither officer was armed with anything more lethal than a flashlight.”

Palmer, who was familiar with the level of security at such events nodded. By walking the floor all night the guards were supposed to prevent pilferage by hotel guests, hotel staff, and the exhibitors themselves. In the case of a serious problem they were supposed to dial 911.

The video continued to roll, and as the truck crept forward, Palmer saw the thieves snatch things off display tables and throw them willy nilly into the back of the pickup. He couldn't see the details but knew from experience that the take was sure to include small meteorites, pieces of meteorites, mineral samples, fossils, and hand crafted jewelry.

Did that mean the thieves were greedy? And wanted to take as much as possible? Or were they ignorant regarding the items they were stealing, and planned to sort the loot out later? There was no way to know.

Eventually, after about three minutes of frantic activity, the loaders jumped back into the cab. Tables flew and rock samples skidded across the floor as the pickup turned and accelerated towards the door. Seconds later it was gone.

“The police and a medic unit arrived about five minutes after that,” Cooper said as he brought the playback to an end. “They put out an APB once they had a description on the truck but no luck so far. The plates were stolen. But, did you notice anything different about the thieves?”

“Yes,” Palmer responded. “I couldn't see the driver. But at least one of the loaders had a hump.”

“Bingo,” Cooper replied. “Put that together with the meteorite-mineral aspect of the robbery and you can see why we're interested.”