Anselm by Jasinda Wilder

Author:Jasinda Wilder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jasinda Wilder

I woke up slowly, disoriented at first.

I blinked, sat up—I was alone in the car, the motor off, lights off. It was very dark, except for a dim glow ahead—lights in the distance. I levered the seat up, collected my things, and peered into the darkness, wondering where Anselm was.

I waited perhaps twenty minutes, panic rising steadily, and then a dark shape appeared at my window—Anselm. He tapped on the glass and gestured for me to come out.

“Where are we?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Outside Rapid City,” he answered. “You slept more than five hours.”

I blinked. “You said you would wake me.”

A shrug. “You were sleeping. You looked so peaceful, I could not. I am not tired yet, anyway. The rest I got earlier did me well.”

I looked around. “So, what are we doing here, specifically?”

“This is the regional airport.” He grinned. “I am going to steal an airplane.”

I stared. “You—what?”

He grinned. “I have done this before, a few times. Tricky, but not impossible, if you know what to do.”

“Who will fly it?”

He just arched an eyebrow. “Me. I learned to fly small aircrafts while I worked for the FSB. This is child’s play.”

“Fly, or fly well?”

He just snorted. “Come on. Stay close to me.”

“This seems a little crazy.” I hesitated. “I do not like flying, even on big airplanes. The small ones terrify me even more.”

“We have to capitalize on our disappearance. The last place we can be definitively identified is back in Mt. Vernon. Now, we are many hundreds of miles away, and with any luck will have thrown Alice off of our scent. We steal a small single-engine airplane, and our arrival in the vicinity of Vancouver will be impossible to track.” He had his sweatshirt on—it was too big on him, black with a red and white University of South Dakota logo on the chest; his HK was slung around front.

I nodded, let out a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Good.” He set off into the darkness, melting silently into the shadows.

I followed close on his heels. It was nearly pitch-black, only the lights of Rapid City in the distance behind us, and the dimmer glow of lights from the airport ahead of us. We came to a fence, tall, forbidding, lined with barbed wire across the top. Anselm shrugged out of the sweatshirt, eyeing the fence.

“In truth, the fence is the trickiest part.” He glanced at me. “I’ll go over first, you watch, ja?”

I nodded, somewhere between nervous and terrified.

He waited and watched.

A pair of headlights appeared, with a spotlight sweeping the fence line.

We backed away, deeper into the shadows, waiting until the headlights and the spotlight and the taillights faded into the distance.

Then, Anselm tossed the sweatshirt over his shoulder, swiveled his weapon to rest against his back, and scaled the fence. Tossing the sweatshirt over the barbed wire, he balanced on the top, hesitated, and then leaped out into the darkness. I heard him land, a soft thump.

“Psst.” His voice, hissing, low. “Now you. Up and over, jump from the top.

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