Paired Pursuit (11 page)

Finn took a step forward, but Gareth was quicker. He crossed the street in two strides, scooping up the junkie and slamming him against the wall. “What were you saying about that house?” he snarled.

“N-nothing, man!”

“Hey, let go of him.” The other junkie stood up, swaying as he stuffed a fraying plastic bag into his pocket. He puffed himself up, but his bravado died when Gareth looked at him, and he backed away. “All right, we're going now, we'll go. No need for trouble.”

“Good, because if anyone even so much as
jiggles the lock
on that house, I'll be coming after you. Both of you.” Gareth dropped the junkie he was holding and the man staggered backward, breathing heavily. As they watched, the men hustled out of sight, casting furtive looks over their shoulders.

“Do you think they'll come back?” Mari asked. She stared at Gareth with new respect. God, he'd been scary. Too bad he couldn't do that to Tim.

“They won't be back until tonight, if then. Tank is probably all bite and very little bark.” Gareth took her arm again, and they set off down the street, Mari sandwiched between them. Although it was midmorning, the sun was bright and hot, which was a fine thing for all the solar panels dotted around the place, but not so great for their expedition.

In fact, as they neared the walls, Mari had to beat back panic. If her arms weren't linked with the Twins', she would have grasped the handle of her Glock, which she wore at her waist. They walked through what had once been downtown. A few years ago, the authorities had cordoned off the upper parts of the large buildings since they had become unsafe, but she caught sight of someone disappearing through a broken glass door. At least the roads were clear, even if they were mostly potholes by now.

A woman riding a bicycle past them flicked a shrewd gaze up and down Mari, then the Twins, as if assessing them. A few streets over, two male voices rose in slurred argument. Mari kept walking, glad that she had Finn and Gareth to keep her company.

To keep her
safe
, she amended. God, she would never have survived out here alone. For that matter, she wouldn't have survived the initial train journey.

Even so, her entire spirit bucked like a green-broke horse when they came into sight of the gate. The men didn't break stride, sweeping her toward the high wall as if they were on their way to a picnic. Then, just as she thought they were about to walk right through the huge, metal-reinforced gates, they halted and Gareth split off.

“Where's he going now?” Her voice came out shaky, and Finn immediately drew her closer, his strong embrace providing comfort.

“He's getting our motorcycle.”

“What, am I going to ride on your shoulders or something?” Nervousness made the sarcasm bite deeper than she meant it to, and she flinched.

“Nah, there's a sidecar.” He glanced down at her. “You're really worried, aren't you?”

Her nod was short and sharp. “Sorry.”

“You think you'll cope?”

Carter hadn't. But it wasn't like she was going to go rooting around in any houses. So she nodded again. And any further questions were precluded by the throaty roar of a motorcycle. Gareth rolled to a stop next to them, handing out helmets.

Mari pulled the black helmet over her head, and the world became muffled. The visor was slightly tinted to help keep out the glare of the sun. Maybe if she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, she could pretend she was at home in bed instead of outside the safety of the walls.

Finn mounted the bike behind his brother, gesturing for Mari to climb into the sidecar. She did so, having a brief flashback to when she'd ridden a roller coaster as a pre-teen. Her nervous giggle was swallowed by the helmet—at least there would be no loop-de-loops to endure. Gripping the metal bar, she eased into the seat, noting that the pack was stowed there as well.

As soon as she was in, Gareth revved the engine and eased through the gates. The guards watched them with vague interest, perhaps thinking they were scavengers chancing the lean pickings of the former suburbs. They were the only ones on the road. Even partially solar-powered bikes needed a little fuel, and fuel wasn't cheap these days.

Still, the government's authority carried weight, even here in a failing City. Perhaps especially in a failing City, where they were eager to clutch at any straws they could—including government money.

To keep her mind off the fact that they were now out in the open, Mari took deep breaths, forcing herself to recall the interior of her family's old car. An electric-powered vehicle, it had been top of its range. Her parents had loved taking it out on road trips.

They'd sold it in Seattle to get money for food and lodging. Her father hadn't found much in the way of work, so the car money had been their bread and butter for quite some time.

Gareth picked up speed, dodging the larger potholes. The bike had good suspension, so the smaller bumps didn't rattle it too much, but Mari held on all the same. The sidecar had a windshield on it, so the double protection of that plus her visor made her feel a touch more confident.

Even so, the road grew rougher as the miles stretched out behind them. Mari didn't look back. She knew what she would see: the wall, too far away to run to. Although motley and heavily repaired with patches of concrete, dirt and barbed wire, it still represented protection and safety. She breathed in, out, counting to five with each breath. It was the best she could manage.

Once upon a time, Mari had loved being in the middle of the wilderness, backpacking miles from civilization with her father. Dad had loved talking about natural science with her as they hiked. Back then, the only things to worry about were wild animals and bug bites.

Now… Mari shuddered, recalling the unnatural way the predator aliens had moved, had
hunted
them on the train, howling for reinforcements. How her bullet had taken the leader in its mouth, blowing a hole through its nearly translucent skin, yet it had loped away like it was no big deal.

She looked over her shoulder then, unable to help herself. The helmet swallowed her terrified moan. Ravaged land—far too much of it—lay between them and the wall, which was now the size of a child's set of building blocks, with its concrete turrets jabbing almost absurdly against the blue sky.

I'll be okay. I'll be okay.
The words became a litany as they roared onward. The Twins had obviously noted her distress, looking sidelong at her and being extra careful around potholes, but to her relief, they didn't stop the motorcycle. That would have been mortifying—and she would have been far too tempted to throw herself on their mercy and beg to return to the City.

I'll be okay.

The buildings—mainly houses, with some casinos and supermarkets—nearest the City had all been torn down, demolished to prevent the Barks from hiding there during daylight hours. Over time, debris had been carted off to reinforce the wall or had simply rotted. People cultivated the land now, growing crops out here in small plots they tended themselves. The yield was probably low given the climate, but even a handful of potatoes could mean the difference between starvation and survival.

When they reached the first mostly intact houses, Mari knew they were really far out. In the distance, one of the scars sliced across the land, sending a faint hint of smoke into the air. Still burning in places, even after eleven years—what kind of crazy technology did these aliens have?

And what inroads had her father made into discovering them? What had he discovered that made him want to run?

Mari squinted through her visor, a measure of relief blossoming through formless panic. There it was. The spaceship, in all its glory, resting atop a scorched patch of earth. Its landing had blown nearby houses down, thank all that was holy, so there were no nearby dark places for the Barks to lurk, watching them.

She half expected to see a burned-out hulk. But the ship was in remarkably good shape, its body gleaming in the sunlight. The thing was surprisingly high, longer and wider than it was tall. It was a sort of mottled gray, a color she'd never encountered, and one which seemed to change as her gaze flicked from one point to the other, turning darker, then lighter.

Why had her father been so interested in their spaceships? Mari frowned. He'd insisted upon visiting the one near their cabin in Oregon, a tiny one in good shape. In retrospect, it had been perfectly safe, since the aliens had all bounded off to hunt humans in major metropolises where they could kill more. Yet Mari had resented his curiosity, wishing she could ignore the stupid aliens and go back to life as normal.

“You have to know your enemy
,
”
her father had explained when she'd voiced her resentment. That had been the only explanation he'd provided, although he did eventually concede to her mother and flee behind the safety of Seattle's hastily built walls.

When the motorcycle came to a halt beside the towering ship, Mari removed her helmet and got out of the sidecar, stretching slightly stiff legs. The panic attack had receded, but it still lurked, ready to pounce any time. The Twins remained silent as she walked alongside the grounded ship. It was big—easily a third of a mile long—and by all accounts, the motherships were even larger. The one that had been shot down nearby, leaving the scars, had left a mile-wide crater.

This ship was smaller but still capable of carrying a good amount of Barks. She began to circle it, occasionally running a hand along its shiny surface. Nearby, Finn took some photos with a small device, shooting close-ups at several points.

At one end of the ship, there were some paler marks. She placed her hand atop them, frowning. How was this ship powered? There were no external rockets or thrusters that she could see.

Mari continued to explore the paler marks. They were flat, and a series of them ran straight up the ship's spine. Had her father seen them? Impulsively, she began to climb them. The material of the ship was strangely giving under her weight, almost molding itself to her feet as if actively trying to support her. Although it was unnerving, she kept going until she reached the top.

Only then did she realize the Twins hadn't followed her.

Chapter Five

Mari tensed, sinking to her knees atop the spaceship as she scanned the area for Finn and Gareth. Hadn't they been right behind her?

God, she was high up—higher than she had initially realized. With no nearby buildings to make a comparison to, she leaned out and peered down at the ground. A hundred feet, perhaps? In any case, she leaned back and blinked to clear momentary dizziness.

“Mari?” The voice was distant, windblown.

“Up here!” she shouted, and prayed they had heard her. She wasn't going to risk leaning over the curved edge again.

Fortunately, they appeared almost immediately at the base of the steps. The ship was shaped like an elongated droplet of water, so she was able to watch them climb, fidgeting guiltily as they grew closer. Oddly enough, heights intimidated her a lot less than being outside the walls. And now that she was up here, she wanted to look around—although she planned to stick to crawling, since standing upright seemed too risky in this wind.

Turning her attention back to the ship, she began to explore the area where the steps flattened out. There was an odd flap there, which she pulled open with some trepidation. Inside were a series of three strange, plunger-like extensions. That made sense, since the Barks all had those sucker appendages. Her father would be really excited by this, taking notes and speculating out loud.

Mari had no notepad or pen, so she simply pulled one of the extensions.

The spaceship vibrated under her knees, emitting a single, deep groan. Then a gray expanse reared up in front of her. Stunned, Mari took in the sight, dumbly registering strange, triangle-shaped hinges that segmented away to allow a kind of door to open up. Before she could react, a multitude of guttural howls rose into the air, so loud they made her ears ring.

Barks?
Here?

Mari shrieked in terrified reply, falling over herself as she half threw herself down the stairs in the direction of the ground. What had she unleashed? She half lost her balance, shoving head-first into an unyielding, masculine chest. Part of her recognized Finn. Another larger part gibbered at her to run. She took a deep breath, ready to scream.

But his arms held her still, and she exhaled on a whimper, clinging to him. If he wasn't running or fighting, that must mean they were safe.

“I opened the ship.” Her voice was tremulous, little more than a whisper, but he heard her.

“Yes, you did. And there's a shitload of Barks inside. Some of 'em got scorched, I bet.” He sounded almost amused. “Looks like this is one of their favorite hiding places during daylight hours. Are you okay?”

“Physically, yes. Mentally…” She shuddered.

“It's all right now.” Finn continued to hold her tightly, and she felt Gareth's arms close around her as well.

“We let you go for one minute, and this is what happens,” Finn joked.

“I pulled the thingy,” Mari blurted. Relief at being safe made her a little punch-drunk.

“Maybe you could stick to pulling
our
thingies in the future,” Finn teased.

Her giggle was cut off by another howl and a deep vibration.

“Shit!” She wrapped her legs around Finn, desperately seeking safety. She didn't dare look over her shoulder.

“Hey, everything's okay. They've closed their ship up again. You probably gave them the fright of their lives letting all that unfiltered sunlight in.” Finn easily supported her full weight.

“Good.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“Even so, we'd better get down in case something else unexpected happens,” Gareth said.

Mari remained locked around Finn, who had no problem navigating the steps with her clinging like a limpet. Which was a good thing, since her legs were trembling too hard to allow her to safely descend on her own.

When they reached solid ground, she nearly kissed it. Instead, she kissed Finn. She wasn't prepared for the almost violent way he deepened it, pressing his mouth against hers in a hungry, possessive move that would have left her gasping had she the breath for that.

It was a strange mixture of feelings—relief paired with fear, combining to make her surroundings sharper, clearer. Everything stood out, Finn's aftershave mingling with the smell of motorcycle exhaust and the sun glinting too brightly off the spaceship. It had to be a UV-resistant ship, she suddenly realized, to keep the aliens safe in this solar system.

Wherever they were from was probably on the cold and dark side. Shame they couldn't pack up and go back, but she supposed Earth provided for them, in a way. It was strange knowing there were dozens—perhaps hundreds, given the size of that spaceship—a matter of feet away from her. And she'd been
climbing
on top of them.

That didn't change the fact that she was standing in the middle of nowhere with—how had Finn put it?—a shitload of Barks nearby.

Finn ran his finger down the side of her cheek. “You really okay, Mari?”

“Give me a few minutes.” She clung to him, unwilling to let go. It was nice to feel wanted. She hadn't felt so secure since months before her father died, back when Tim wasn't pursuing her.

“Of course.” His embrace stayed strong, steady, calming her galloping heart until she was able to pull away and rake windblown hair from her eyes.

“All right,” she managed.

“Did you want to look around some more?” he asked.

Mari frowned, trying to hide the surge of fear that shook her as she looked at the spaceship. Funny that the ship hadn't been locked. Then again, the aliens probably didn't expect their prey to be intelligent enough to be able to open doors. Or maybe they hadn't yet invented locks.

Locks… She blinked. How could she have been so stupid? Her father had started a diary shortly after the Invasion. He'd kept it hidden in his trunk's false bottom. The same trunk that held Mari's belongings, back at Patrice's house. She'd been trying to puzzle through the writing on the scrap paper when she should have been reading through his diary.

She'd had more complete information with her all along. She only needed to read the sections on Scar City and find out where he might have hidden that alien device—and what he was trying to buy from the scavenger near Patrice's house. Hell, even if she couldn't sell the device after all, she'd be helping the Twins with their mission. They deserved her assistance after the kind way they'd treated her.

“Actually,” she said slowly, “we can go back now.”

* * * * *

Gareth listened as Mari animatedly described the small trunk she'd brought from Flagstaff. He tried his best to focus on her words and not his relief that she hadn't fucking
died
up there when they'd taken their attention off her for a minute.

“He must have tried to tell me about his diary, but the meds and the pain made him pretty out of it,” Mari was explaining. When excited, she talked with her hands, her long fingers fluttering until he wanted to seize them and press kisses into her palms.

“Diary?” Finn asked.

“Yes, it's what I should have looked for in the first place, but…well, he's still my dad, and reading his private diary never really occurred to me.”

“Did he write a lot?” Gareth asked.

“I remember waking up sometimes and seeing him at his desk, but ever since my mother died, he's mostly scribbled stuff down on scratch paper. I don't think he's written in an actual diary for years.”

“It really was a stroke of luck that we found her,”
Finn sent.
“Both for us and for the mission.”

“I fully agree.”
Gareth regarded her, marveling at how fast she'd become special to them both. There seemed to have been a Mari-shaped hole in their hearts, waiting to be filled. The mission was wholly secondary.

“Try telling Dr. Felton that,”
Finn warned.
“He seems driven to obtain every piece of technology he can. Says he wants to prove a major theory.”

“Scientists and their goddamn theories.”
Gareth didn't want to think about it anymore.

“Mari, is there anything else out here you'd like to examine? Besides a horde of Barks, that is,” Finn added dryly.

Mari's blush was pure cute. “Sorry. And no. I—I'd like to start back. The sooner, the better.”

She looked anxiously at the sky, waves of almost palpable concern rolling off her. Gareth wished he could erase her fear, leaving her able to enjoy the freedom of being outside City walls. He couldn't, of course—but an idea struck, one he immediately shared with Finn.

“You actually brought one of those with you?”

“Never hurts to be prepared,”
Gareth replied.

“I've never seen you so willing to joke around.”

“Well, if you have to know, bringing it was an accident. It was near the other stuff, and I wound up throwing it into the bag. Only noticed when I was halfway out the door.”

“It might be a good idea to see if we can distract her with it. Look how nervous she is. She's doing a decent job of hiding it, but let's get out of here, all right?”

It was a measure of Mari's nervousness that she hadn't noticed their silent conversation. She stared in the direction of the City, rubbing the toe of her boot in the dust. Gareth looped an arm around her waist and guided her to the motorcycle. When she would have climbed into the sidecar, he prevented her with one gentle hand.

“You're really nervous, aren't you?”

She gave a sharp nod, dark hair falling across her face before she impatiently brushed it back. “Yes, I am. Trying to hide it. Sorry.”

“Don't be.” Finn came up behind them. “You're not the only one who's afraid of being outside the walls. There's a lot of humans who won't venture outside. You shouldn't be ashamed—you ought to be proud of coming all this way. That was brave, Mari.”

“I'm not brave, though.” She cast them a confused look. “The moment we left the gates, I felt like hyperventilating.”

“Yet you continued all the same,” Gareth said, reaching into his backpack for what he required. He palmed the small vibrator before turning back to Mari.

“I did, but I'll be on the edge of panic until we get back. Something might happen to the bike… We might get stranded out here, and it's already nearly noon.”

“I have something that'll help distract you.” Gareth held up the vibe. It had been state-of-the-art in pre-Invasion time, top of the line, with an external part that stimulated the clitoris. He'd always wanted to use it but had been saving it for someone special.

Mari's eyes widened. “Is that…?”

“Not a threat. A promise.” Gareth grinned wickedly, tucking it back into his pocket. “So if you start panicking, you think about me pulling over and sliding that into you.”

“You'd do that?” She eyed him sidelong, but he saw the flare of excitement she couldn't hide.

“It vibrates,” he said, leaning forward to speak into her ear, “and I have the remote control in my pocket. So if I see you getting all nervous again, I'm going to bring you to orgasm. Right there in my sidecar.”

Her expression—a mixture of anticipation and shock—was priceless. Gareth gave her no chance to argue or back out, bundling her into the sidecar and handing her a helmet. As he and Finn mounted the bike, Gareth made sure Mari was looking, and patted his pocket.

In response, her hand curled around the metal handlebar, but it wasn't the white-knuckled grip she'd employed on the way out here. Good. She was calmer, much calmer than she had been. It was so much damn fun, playing with Mari.

“It sure is.”
Finn paused a few beats. “
You know, I haven't seen you so happy since Hailey died.”

“If I wanted a counselor, I'm sure the scientists would provide one.”
Gareth revved the bike a little too hard in his annoyance.

“I'm not trying to counsel you. I'm just saying that it hasn't been a barrel of laughs sharing your thoughts sometimes. Some of us go over the edge—you know that. Theo did, and I saw how his Twin suffered.”

“Yeah well, maybe they should have coded a failsafe into our DNA,”
Gareth snarled.
“They would have, you know, if our brains could have been programmed like computers.”

“But they didn't. Couldn't. Like it or not, we're as flawed as a human in many ways. Flawed in our own unique ways too.”

“Just don't rehash the past at me,”
Gareth warned. He quashed any further thoughts along that vein, ruthlessly refusing to think about Theo and his Twin. Instead, he eased the motorcycle onto what remained of an old highway, doing his best to avoid the worst of the potholes and other debris. The bike, along with its tires, was pretty resilient, but he wasn't going to risk having to spend an hour repairing the machine for the sake of going five or ten miles an hour faster.

“The past is the past,”
Finn sent after a minute.
“All I wanted was to say I'm glad we're on an even keel again. Also, Mari's looking around again, seems kind of scared. Distract her again.”

“All right.”
Gareth meant that as both acquiescence and closure. Reaching into his pocket, he dangled the remote control briefly in front of her helmet. He was rewarded by Mari flipping up the visor and grinning at him. Yep, she was coping.

Because he knew the road now, he felt comfortable pushing their speed a little harder than he had on the outgoing trip. As a result, the trip took less than two hours, during which he kept a close eye on Mari.

Mari's body language stayed relaxed, although Gareth was ready to pull over if necessary. He kept a close eye on her reactions, noticing that once they were within sight of the gates, she was leaning back and seeming to enjoy the ride. They rolled through the gates, coming to a halt as someone herded a flock of chickens across the road.