Feedback by Robison Wells

Author:Robison Wells [Wells, Robison]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-10-01T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I was moving as fast as I could, but it didn’t feel like enough. It was taking too long, and the seconds were ticking away. We weren’t going to make it.

I hedged my bets, leaving the road and heading for a thicker cluster of brush south of the ford.

“Where are you going?”

“He’ll be heading for the ford,” I said. “That’s where the trap is set. I want to cross the stream somewhere else in case it doesn’t work.”

Becky nodded and pulled her arm away from me. “I can walk by myself. It’ll be faster.”

“I can carry you faster.”

She took a breath to say something, but didn’t.

There was still no sign of anything. I’d expected to hear a big electric crackle, or a pop, or anything. Maybe the trap didn’t work—the wires didn’t fall in the water. Or maybe they did, and he was built to resist electric shock. Or there was too much water and the electricity dispersed and didn’t incapacitate him.

“Go without me,” she said.

“No.” We were almost at the stream.

“You don’t have to protect—”

“Yes, I do,” I said sharply. If she’d heard me talking to Mason about his plan, she’d heard me talking about her.

Her fingers dug into my shoulder. “Down!”

I was falling to my knees before she’d even said it. Iceman was on the road.

He wasn’t looking at us—he was glaring down the road toward the barracks. He was dripping wet, and pissed off.

Becky was trying to pull herself with one hand toward the cover of the stream. With Iceman facing the other way, I risked it and jumped to a crouch. I grabbed the shoulder of her coat and pulled her into the bushes.

Without talking, we crawled farther, sliding down the stream bank to hide. We were still fifty yards of twisting river from the ford—from where Isaiah’s body was. This felt safe. Relatively.

“Come to the fort!” Iceman bellowed, his voice unnaturally loud.

I darted across the stream, splashing through the icy water that was deeper here, and peered through the bushes at the fort. He was back on the fort side now, walking past his white pickup. We were too late. He was still closer to the truck than I was, and he had to be faster than me anyway.

Becky caught up with me just as a crack broke through the morning silence like a gunshot.

Iceman had punched through the old wood of the fort’s heavy door like it was glass. He reached between the shattered boards and unlatched it.

“This isn’t good,” Becky breathed.

“We need to get out of here,” I said.

She looked back upstream, toward the truck.

“We don’t have time,” I said.

“I know,” she snapped.

Becky stood, hunched over in what was probably just as much pain as it was stealth.

“Here,” I said, reaching for her arm. “Let me carry you.”

“I’m fine.” She stepped from the bank into the stream, the frigid water rushing over her shoes and up to her calves. She paused to steady herself, and I reached for her again.

“Stop it,” Becky said, her voice firm.

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