State of Emergency (Book) (15 page)

            Good times.

            The main office has a shelf of travel brochures and a clock that’s ticking
way
too loudly. Keller shoves me ahead of him to make some kind of point about being in charge right before the door shuts again.

            I have to try really hard to keep my face expressionless because the first person I see is Chris. He’s sitting in one of the office chairs. There are four AT troop guards standing around him, two of them have guns pointed right at his head. He’s a bruised, bloody mess. By the looks of it, his time here has been way worse than mine.

            “What’s going on?” I ask, Chris and I locking eyes.

            His jaw tightens as he takes in my appearance. I must look crappier than usual. He remains silent, but his eyes are telling me that he’s unhappy.
Very
unhappy.

            “Your companion would not tell us anything about himself,” Keller says, leaning close enough to breathe on me. I make a mental not to stop inhaling. “His ID told us very little, only that he was in the military. Perhaps you can tell us more about the two of you and your plans?”

            I glance at Chris. He nods slightly, only enough for me to catch.

            “First of all,” I say, putting my hand on the counter for support, “you can stop talking like a formal European. Second of all, I don’t have a freaking idea what you’re talking about. The world ended, okay? Everything died. We had to get out of the city because the radio stations were broadcasting that people should evacuate. That’s what we did. We
left
.”

            “This man is a highly trained ex-military operative,” Keller yells, almost knocking me over with his voice alone. “The driver’s license in your purse indicates that you’re the daughter of Frank Hart, also a highly trained private detective with the Department of Homeland Security.”

            “How do you know any of this?” I demand, angry. “You can’t look it up on the computer!”

            Keller smirks.

            “Can’t we?”

            “You have computers?” I say, openmouthed. “How?”

            “You tell me. You seemed to have anticipated the EMP. You’re avoiding the relief camps while everybody else is flocking to them. You had a vehicle that was protected from EMPs. You were even armed.”

            I stare at him, trying to figure out how he
knows
all of this. It’s impossible. Only my dad and I ever knew about the Mustang.

            “You’re afraid we’re trying to sabotage your plans for world domination or something,” I say, trying to sound as sarcastic as possible. “Tell me,
Keller
, how long have you and the Feds been planning this takeover? Because if you’re worried that two people with backpacks full of cookies from McDonald’s are going to throw a wrench in your plans, maybe your strategy isn’t as brilliant as you thought.”

            Keller reacts immediately, backhanding me across the face. I press my hand against my cheek, trying hard not let any tears escape. For a few seconds I can’t breathe, but then my lungs stop seizing up and I’m okay. I look up. Chris is almost red with fury.

            “Let her go,” he says. “Keep me if you want to, but she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

            “We’ll keep who we want,” Keller snaps, backhanding Chris across the face.

            I can only think that if Chris weren’t surrounded by a bunch of guards and guns, he could take Keller down in two seconds flat. I’d love to see that.

            “I have no love for entrepreneurs,” Keller continues, stepping back to eye both of us. “I’m talking about the two of you, of course. And you have a choice. You can either comply with my wishes and tell me where you’re going and what you knew about the EMP,
or
you can die. Two more deaths mean nothing to me. It’s your choice. You can have a few moments to discuss.”

            He looks pleased with himself as he flicks a finger, motioning the other Omega pukes out of the room. “Don’t try to escape,” he warns. “You’ll just get shot.”

            They walk outside, leaving us totally visible to them because of the glass door. As soon as the door shuts and Keller’s smug mug makes an exit, I throw my arms around Chris’s neck and embrace him, holding back tears.

            “You look terrible,” I say, sniffling. “Does it hurt?”
            Chris sinks down to the ground and gathers me up in his arms, pressing me against his chest. “I’m fine,” he replies. “And thanks for the compliment.”

            I look up into his face, pressing my fingers against his cheek.

            “How long has it been since they took us?” I ask.

            “Four days,” he replies. “Where are they keeping you?”

            “Upstairs. The last door on the right. You?”

            “In the back of one of their trucks.” He offers a weak grin. “I guess they figured if they put me in a room I’d just break the windows out.”

            “You’re good at that,” I agree, resting my head against his shoulder. He smells sweaty and bloody, but honestly, I don’t care. I don’t think I’ve ever missed another human being so much as I have in the last few days. Solitary confinement does things to you.

            “They’re going to kill us no matter what we tell them,” Chris says at last, tilting my chin up. “You know that, right?”

            I nod, swallowing a thick lump in my throat.

            “I figured,” I answer, shaking. “So we might as well keep our mouths shut.”

            “No. We escape.”

            “Excuse me?” I sit up straight, his arms still around my waist. “How?”

            “Just trust me.”

            “But Chris –”

            “-No buts, Cassidy,” he says, placing one hand on each side of my face. “Just trust.”

            He runs his finger along my bruised eye and frowns, leaning forward.

            “I should kill him,” he mutters, something sparking in his eyes.

            “You?
I’d
like to kill him,” I correct. “He’s got a serious ego problem.”

            Chris chuckles, resting his forehead against mine. We just sit there for a minute, holding on to each other in the middle of a gross hotel office, closing our eyes. The uber-loud ticking clock eventually tells us that we’ve got sixty seconds left before Keller comes back in and demands information. Chris brushes my hair back right before he presses his lips against my forehead. It’s a short, lingering kiss that takes me by surprise, but I’m not complaining.

            “I’ll take care of you,” he says, thumbing my cheek one more time. “Okay?”
            I nod, loving the way his hands are warm against my face.

           
Ding.

            The little bell on top of the office door jingles as Keller walks in on us. He’s got his AT trooper hacks with him, and they look like they just walked into a candy store. Which means they’re probably planning to kill us.

            Some people get a kick out of the weirdest things.

            “How sweet,” Keller says in mock sugariness.

            Chris stands up, pulling me to my feet. I’m still suffering from malnutrition and a possible concussion, so I lean against him for support.

            “Aw, thank you,” I purr. “Almost as adorable as you and your cronies?”

            His face turns ashen gray, like I’ve just made the ultimate insult.

            “You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that,” he replies, irritated, “before the night is over.”

            “I don’t think so,” I muse. “Seeing the expression on your face just now was pretty priceless. Like a Kodak moment. Does somebody have a camera I could borrow?”

            Chris smirks, hiding his grin in my hair as he tightens his grip around my waist. “If you touch a hair on her head,” he says, calm, “I will make your death long and painful.”

            Keller rolls his eyes.

            “You’re both so theatric,” he complains. “I take that as a sign that you’re not going to tell me what I want to know?”

            “Nope,” I reply. “All of our secret information is going to go with us to the grave.”

            “It’s your coffin, not mine,” Keller spits. “Fine.”

            “Cassidy,” Chris says, looking at me. “Duck.”

            “Hmm?”
            What happens next happens so fast that I don’t have time to do anything other than what he says. Chris pulls me to the ground and all of the sudden the two of us are lying on our stomachs with our hands over our heads. Something – it
sounds
like it’s only two feet away – explodes big time. I can feel heat on my skin as orange flames blast the office. Keller and his hacks are thrown forward, totally losing their footing and crashing into each other. I raise my head and look around, everything moving in slow motion.

            I can see a giant fire outside – way bigger than the bonfire that the soldierswere hanging around earlier. It looks like some of the vehicles have been turned upside down from whatever detonated.

            “Come on!” Chris yells, wrapping his hand around mine. “We have to move!”

            Well, obviously.

            I get up, forgetting about my health issues thanks to a rush of good old-fashioned adrenaline. Chris throws open the door and I’m hit in the face with a wave of heat. Man, it’s
hot
. I cover my face from the flames that are shooting up from the bonfire, which is now big enough to cook a jumbo jet.

            “What happened?” I shout, following Chris’s lead through the wreckage. Two Humvees are completely flipped over, and as far as I can see, some officials seem to be stuck underneath, pounding on the windows from the inside. I feel guilty for not stopping to do something, then I remember that these people are trying to
kill
us, so that pretty much destroys my instinct to help them. AT trooper guards that are still upright are hobbling around like they’re drunk, still shocked from the explosion.

            You and me both, pals.

            Chris and I run to the other side of the motel. There aren’t any bad guys over here, because there’s no light or cars. Except for one. It’s a Humvee with anOmega insignia on the side: The O that doubles as a white globe.                                                                                                     

            And leaning against the Humvee with a pair of keys in her hands is Isabel.

            “Took you long enough,” she complains, looking cocky.

            “What did you do?” I demand, crossing my arms. Shocked. “How are you here?”

            “I just put a little gasoline on the fire,” she shrugs. “Right, Chris?”

            Chris nods.

            “You did a good job, kid,” he says, slapping her on the back. Then he takes the keys and opens the door. “Get inside. Now.”

            “I’m totally in the dark here,” I say, climbing across the console in the front seat. Isabel jumps into the back, which is nothing but a storage area of guns, ammo and emergency supplies. “Holy crap! We hit the jackpot!”

            “It’s Keller’s car,” Isabel grins.

            “No way?” I laugh hysterically. “That idiot.”

            Chris turns the key in the ignition. For one scary second I think it’s not going to start, but the engine turns over and we’re home free. “Yes!” Isabel whoops. “It works!”

            Chris looks pretty stoked. I can tell because he stomps on the gas and we charge out of the motel parking lot at illegal speeds.

            “How did you know to come into camp?” I ask Isabel, turning in my seat.

            “I saw where they took you,” she replies. “I found Chris, and the truck had a window. I snuck over and talked to him and he told me that they were going to question both of you in the main office.” She smiles devilishly. Pretty frightening, considering the fact that she’s only twelve. “He told me to throw one of the gas canisters in the fire and run. It worked. That was the best explosion
ever
!”

            “Unbelievable,” I say, reaching around to hug her. “I am
so
glad we found you! I knew you’d come in handy. I told you, Chris.”

            He rolls his eyes.

            “I believe the gas canister was my idea.”
            “Yeah, but
she
pulled it off.”

            “Thanks to me.”

            “People, the
road
!” Isabel screams.

            Chris swerves to miss a car that’s sitting long ways across an intersection. We’re racing full speed through the dark streets of whatever county this is, one orchard after another flashing by. It’s dark, but not as foggy as it was the other night. I’m glad. Foggy enough to hide us, but not too foggy that we can’t drive.

            “They’re going to hunt for us,” Chris says. “They have our stuff. They’ll try to figure out where we were going.”