Endgame (Agent 21) (17 page)

‘Give my dog the rest of that liver, you got a friend for life,’ the girl said.

Ricky laid the remaining liver down in the snow, before wiping his bloodied hands on his clothes.

‘OK, Snow,’ the girl said. Snow was obviously the dog’s name. He trotted over to the fresh liver, dragged it a few metres away from their position and started to eat. Ricky caught sight of some extremely sharp teeth.

‘What’s your name?’ Ricky asked.

She gave him a suspicious look. ‘What does it matter?’

‘It doesn’t. I’m just asking.’

She sniffed. ‘Tasha,’ she said.

‘I’m Ricky. This is Zak and Malcolm.’ He glanced over at Zak, half expecting to be reprimanded for giving their real names. But Zak didn’t seem bothered. There was hardly any point out here, and they really needed this girl’s help. ‘Er . . . thanks for saving our lives back there, Tasha.’

‘Yo’ lives ain’t saved yet,’ Tasha said. She picked up the skewer of liver pieces and handed them round. ‘You want to make it through the night? Eat.’ She crammed her pieces of cooked liver into her mouth. Ricky did the same. Instantly, he wanted to gag. The meat was only just warmed through – he felt like he was chewing a mouthful of jellied blood, and the taste was intense and high. He saw Zak swallowing his food, but it was too much for Malcolm, who spat his out. Tasha looked at him, then shrugged, as if to say: ‘That’s your problem.’

‘What are you doing out here at night?’ Zak asked.

Tasha sneered. ‘Could ask you the same question.’ But when Zak didn’t reply, she said, ‘Huntin’ that bear. Been prowlin’ round where my family live. Causin’ damage. Beast had to go. Pops told me he hasn’t seen a grizzly walking around in winter since he was a boy. Can’t have him hanging around our livin’ quarters. Brothers went north and south. I went west.’

She spoke in a weirdly adult fashion. ‘You’re a bit young to be out hunting bears, aren’t you?’ Ricky said.

‘An’ you’s a bit young to be killed by one,’ she shot back. She looked over towards the bear’s corpse. ‘Wolves in these forests,’ she said.

‘We heard them.’

‘Bet you did. They’ll soon sniff out that dead beast. You don’t want to be here when they do. Trust me ’bout that. They get the taste for blood, they don’t care much whether their meal’s livin’ or dead. That’s why I won’t be taking no meat from the beast back home.’ She stood up, nodded to them, and made a clicking sound at the back of her mouth. Snow trotted obediently up to her. Ricky noticed that the dog had different coloured eyes – one orange, one green. Snow followed Tasha as she walked away from the fire, back in the direction from which she’d come. As she passed the bear, she glanced at it slightly regretfully.

Ricky and Zak looked at each other. An unspoken question passed between them. Ricky knew what Zak would be thinking: that they only had forty-something hours until Cruz’s deadline, and they still had half a continent to cross. Things were looking very bad. But they couldn’t stay out here unprotected and with no shelter. It would be suicide. They nodded at each other. ‘Tasha,’ Ricky called. ‘Wait up.’

She stopped and turned.

‘You live near here?’

She gave her characteristic shrug. ‘Kinda.’

‘In a village? A town?’

Tasha sneered. ‘No way. My family don’t live among other people. We live in the wild. Build our own houses, hunt our own food, live by our own rules.’

‘Look, we need shelter. Just for the rest of the night. We can pay you.’

It was the word ‘pay’ that did it. Tasha’s eyes lit up. ‘How much?’

‘We’ll talk about that when we get to your place.’

Tasha turned her back on them and continued to trudge through the snow. ‘Well, if you’s gonna come, you’s better come.’ And as they spoke, they heard, for the second time that night, the chilling sound of a wolf’s howl floating above the wind. It sounded closer than before.

Ricky quickly started getting their gear together. He gave a moment’s thought to packing up the snow blanket, but it was splashed with blood. ‘Leave it,’ Tasha said. ‘Blood’ll attract wolves like nothing else.’

Zak shovelled snow over their fire to extinguish it, before speaking urgently yet reassuringly to Malcolm, who managed to push himself to his feet. It didn’t take them much more than thirty seconds, but by that time Tasha was already at the far end of the clearing. They were rapidly losing sight of her.

Hunching their shoulders, they battled quickly through the heavy snow. Ricky glanced down at the dead bear as they passed it. Once more, he felt a pang of sympathy for the beast. Its stomach was split open and its insides had spilled out all over the snow. There was a foul, fetid smell as they passed.

As they reached the far edge of the clearing, he saw that Tasha and Snow had disappeared behind the tree line. They upped their pace. Another wolf howl pierced the air. Tasha was waiting for them under a tall fir tree. Snow’s ears were pricked up and alert, and he was smelling the wind. Tasha said nothing as they came into view, but simply turned and headed further into the forest. Ricky watched her carefully. There was something peculiar about the way she walked. It was almost as if she would have been more comfortable on all fours, like the bear she had just shot. Her weapon was now slung over her back, and as she occasionally looked back, there was something wild in her eyes.

They trudged through the forest for what seemed like hours. There were many noises. Strange shufflings and the cracking of twigs in the distance. Ricky started every time he heard them. But Tasha seemed unconcerned, and her dog was relaxed. He took some comfort from that.

Exhaustion overcame him. Every part of his body shrieked at him to stop and rest, but he knew he had to keep going. Every time he looked at Zak and Malcolm, he could see that they were in the same state. Their eyes were rolling and their gait was unsteady. At least, here among the trees, they were protected from the wind. Although Ricky was incredibly cold, he didn’t feel his body was in danger of shutting down. And Malcolm was keeping up, just. Often, he saw Zak supporting him as they moved through the snow, a look of grim determination on his face. It was obvious to Ricky how desperate Zak was to find his friends. His own thoughts drifted towards Felix. Ricky still couldn’t quite believe he was dead. The thought of catching the guy responsible gave him a little extra momentum as they tried to keep up with the strange, wild Tasha.

He didn’t know how long they’d been walking when the trees started to thin again. It seemed like all night, though in truth it had probably not been much more than a couple of hours. He caught a glimpse of light in the distance. It was obscured by the trees, but it was a warming sight. They walked for a couple more minutes until they came to the edge of the forest. There, standing alone about thirty metres from the tree line, was a house – more of a large shack, really. It was made of logs, its low roof covered in snow. The light came from two small windows, one on either side of the door. Ricky could tell by its flickering nature, and by the smoke curling from the chimney, that there was a fire burning inside. Half of him thought it seemed very risky, burning a fire in a log cabin. The other half wanted nothing more than to get warm. He took an involuntary step forward.

‘Wait,’ Tasha hissed.

Ricky froze.

‘I’ll go first. Tell ’em you’re coming. Otherwise . . .’ She left it hanging.

Ricky, Zak and Malcolm stood by the tree line and watched her walk towards, and into, the shack, with Snow at her side. They were too tired and cold to speak. Even Ziggy’s voice in Ricky’s head sounded slow and slurred.

– I’m not sure this is a good idea.

– We don’t have a choice. If we stay out in the snow, we’ll die.

The door of the shack opened again. Two figures appeared. They were much taller than Tasha. One of them carried a hunting rifle, the other a handgun. They were pointing their weapons towards the trees. There was no sign of the girl or her dog.

‘Get your hands above your heads,’ one of them called in a deeply unfriendly voice, ‘before we fill you with holes and leave you for the animals . . .’

If someone has a gun pointing in your direction, you’d better have a good reason for not doing what they tell you. Zak raised his arms. Ricky and Malcolm did the same. Zak took a step forward.

‘Stay back! You’s think we’re stupid? You’s think you punks can make friends with lil’ Tasha, then come rob us? What are you, drug addicts?’

‘We’re not here to rob you,’ Ricky called out. ‘We’ll pay you to give us some shelter. Maybe some help.’

The guy with the handgun wiped his nose with the back of his hand while still holding up his weapon. Zak noticed that he seemed to have painted the body of the weapon in a blood-red colour. ‘Oh yeah?’ he called.

‘We have money,’ Ricky said.

The gunman licked his lips. ‘Well . . . let’s see the colour of it, kid.’

Zak stepped forward again. This time, the gunmen didn’t object. He loosened his backpack, dropped it into the snow and then pulled out all his dollars. He waved them in the direction of the gunmen. They nodded. The guy with the red-painted handgun lowered his weapon. Zak approached. As he got closer, he saw that these two guys were very lean, probably in their early twenties, and looked extremely similar. Tasha’s brothers, presumably? They wore jeans and heavy, checked lumberjack shirts, and they had sharp, suspicious eyes and weather-beaten faces. He handed the notes to the man who had lowered his gun. The man examined them closely, then shoved them in a pocket. ‘All right, kid,’ he said. ‘Get your friends and come inside.’

The two brothers – Zak was now sure that they
were
brothers – turned back into the shack. Zak waved at Ricky and Malcolm to follow him in.

The inside of the shack comprised one big room. It was a poor place. It looked like it had been built from the discarded parts of twenty other houses. The windows – two at the front, two at the back – were different shapes and sizes. There was a large wood-burning stove in the middle. It had a battered saucepan resting on the top, and an unmatching metal chimney protruding from the back and up through the roof of the shack. Snow the dog was curled up in front of it, but his mismatched eyes were still open and alert. There were odd, shabby sofas and a selection of tired mattresses on the floor. Haunches of cured meat hung from the ceiling, alongside bunches of dried leaves. It was dark. The only light came from the stove, and from a large yellow candle that smoked in one corner, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

Sitting on one of the sofas were a much older man and woman. The man had a messy grey beard, wore a red bandanna and had the same sharp, suspicious eyes as the two brothers. The woman had Tasha’s pointed nose, and a face that was as cold and unfriendly as the snow outside. Tasha herself was sitting cross-legged on one of the mattresses, her rifle lying across her lap. She was humming tunelessly to herself. Nobody else spoke as Zak, Ricky and Malcolm traipsed in, closing the door on the howling weather outside.

They stood there in silence for a full thirty seconds before the old man spoke. ‘You’s from that drug place?’ he demanded.

‘What drug place?’ Zak asked.

Tasha pointed in what Zak thought was a northeasterly direction. ‘Couple miles over there. Dealers moved into an old deserted farmstead thataways. They made a big score in the city. Word is, they’re sitting it out with their cash till the heat dies down. Tyler and Travis thought you was some of them. I told them straight, you looked like newcomers to these parts, but . . .’

She pointed at her brothers in turn as she said this. Tyler – who had the painted gun – was the taller of the two. He had wispy stubble and a pointed chin. Travis was clean-shaven, and one of his front teeth was missing. They both looked like they could use a decent meal.

‘Wherever you’s from,’ the old man said, ‘I’m guessing you’s a long way from home.’ His voice was low and gravelly.

‘We only need a few hours’ shelter,’ Zak said. ‘Then we’ll be on our way.’

The old man gave them an unpleasant grin that showed half his teeth missing. ‘Who you runnin’ from, kid?’

‘We’re not running from anyone. We’re looking for some friends.’

‘Right,’ said the old man. ‘Friends.’ He clearly didn’t believe them. ‘Tyler, Travis, dust ’em down. Check they ain’t packing.’

It took a couple of minutes for the two brothers to satisfy themselves that apart from the hunting knife Zak carried their guests had no weapons, either on their person or in their packs. Just rags of oil-soaked fabric, and the rest of what remained from their looting of the vehicle.

‘They’re clean, Pop,’ Tyler said. ‘’Cept for this knife here.’ He tossed it from hand to hand. ‘I’ll be holdin’ onto this,’ he said, looking at Zak, ‘whilst you in our home.’

The old man stared at them. Zak could tell he was deciding whether or not to let them stay. Snow the dog suddenly got to his feet. He trotted over to where Ricky was standing and rubbed his thick fur against Ricky’s trouser leg. The dog’s approval seemed to satisfy the old man a little. He pointed to a far corner of the shack where there was nothing but hard floor. ‘You can lie down there, get some shut-eye. But we don’t have no food to spare, and I want you out of here when the sun comes up. Strangers don’t welcome us, and we don’t welcome strangers.’

They moved to the corner of the shack and set down their bags under the watchful eyes of this strange family. Zak didn’t trust them not to rob them while they rested – he reminded himself that even Tasha had only offered to help once they’d brought up the subject of money. One of them needed to stay awake. ‘You sleep first,’ he muttered to Ricky. ‘I’ll wake you when I can’t stay up any longer.’

Ricky nodded. The three of them lay down, using their backpacks as pillows, under the mistrustful eyes of Tasha and her family. Malcolm was instantly snoring. Ricky seemed more twitchy, but after five minutes Zak heard the slow, steady breathing that told him he too had fallen asleep.

Zak lay on his side, keeping watch on the shack. The others had taken to their beds, apart from one of the brothers, who sat in a rickety armchair with his weapon across his lap. He didn’t take his suspicious eyes off Zak.