Captives (21 page)

"Sometimes." He walked through the weeds. Something was tickling his brain. Something distant, like a flower he hadn't smelled since childhood. "Do I know you?"

The man laughed. "I don't think so."

"Your voice," Walt said. "I've heard it before." He tapped his teeth. "Something about it sounds weird, though. Like finally hearing the original recording of a song you only know through the Weird Al version."

"Walt. I'm not kidding. Shut your mouth before I shut it for you."

"This is driving me crazy." He swerved next to the other man, leaning in and peering at his face. In the daylight, he might have missed it; the features were different, altered, disguised. But with the weakness of the moonlight, the eyes stood out like two dark stars. Once upon a time, he'd been quite interested in them—not to mention the face that contained them. "Oh my god," he said. "
Mia?
"

She put her finger to her lips and smiled.

II:
LIARS

14

"Shh," she said. Inside, her heart battered her ribs like a caged dog. "No time for this."

"But you're dead." He laughed, first in disbelief, then at his own unwillingness to face what was in front of him. "Except you're not. You're right here. How did you survive?"

"Later. Right now, we walk." She motioned him on, keeping a half step behind him and ten feet to his right.

"At least tell me how you got me out of there."

The part of her that had developed over the last few years very much wanted to explain the intricate path of detective work, half-truths, and bald lies she'd used to track him to the reservoir and embed herself in the so-called Abyss. But this ran a distant second to her primary goal.

"Well get to that as soon as we're out of here," she said. "Guess what you can do to expedite that?"

"Okay, I'll shut up. But there's a logistical point of order for you to think about. They've got dogs. Smell-hounds. As soon as they figure out I'm gone, they'll set them loose and run us down."

"Won't matter."

"So you've already got that one worked out." He crunched through the dirt that had gone crusty from a recent rain. "Well, this is… awesome. I can't believe you're alive. And that you rescued me."

"It's a funny world," she said.

Blessedly, he shut up. She'd been on the verge of pulling the trigger. That would have been unfortunate. Now that she had him outside, she thought there was a strong chance she'd get out of here alive. All she had to do was get him down from the hills, take care of business, and ride off. Abyss would piece together the gist of what had happened—she was posing as their guest—but she had arrived there as Thom. As soon as Walt was dead, she could drop that, if she liked. Go back to being Mia. Or become a third person. Either way, the man who'd walked into the compound at the reservoir would never be seen by anyone again.

They moved down the dark slope. Stars burned overhead. A low wind blew from the mountains. That was good. It would carry any sounds away from the reservoir.

She felt outside herself. Six years of wondering. Six years of searching. For most of it, it had felt like looking into a broken mirror, trying to see through a window so dirty and stained that the fragments and colors beyond it made no sense.

Right in front of her, the pieces were cohering. A whirlwind had cut through her life and reassembled the mirror. It would only hold together for another few minutes—she wasn't naive enough to believe that killing Walt would fix everything—but at least things would make
sense
again. That was enough. As long as you could look at the world and understand what you were seeing, you could walk through it.

There was something more, too. This was the first time she'd heard her name spoken out loud in years. Even though it had come from Walt, it felt good. So did the anticipation. She wanted to run down the hill, to shout out. Soon, it would all be behind her.

The lights of the compound stayed dim. Once the reservoir was out of sight, she crossed to the road, keeping one eye on Walt and one on the way ahead. She didn't know how long he'd been kept prisoner, but he looked healthy enough. She supposed she should thank them. Their care had given her the opportunity to kill him herself.

After reconnecting with the state road, she located the bow and rifle she'd left hidden past the shoulder. They crossed the unclear border between the scrubland and the former farmland. I-5 neared. They'd been on the move for close to two hours, had gotten eight miles downhill. Combined with the favorable wind, she ought to be fine.

"Bathroom break?" she said.

"Was just about to ask. Got any water?"

"Of course." She gestured to the side of the road. "Be fast."

He saluted flippantly and jogged into the weeds growing to waist height beside the road. She set down her bag and the bow and made sure the rifle was loaded and the safety was off. Silently, she closed the bolt. Walt wandered back, fiddling with his zipper. He stopped and gazed at her in mild consternation, as if she'd suggested an unexpected trip to the store.

"What are you doing?" He finished zipping his pants. "I mean, I get the gist. You're pointing a gun at me. And you look pissed off. What's up?"

"Don't you dare."

He sighed. "You're not here to rescue me, are you? Son of a bitch."

"Turn around," she said.

He looked genuinely puzzled. "Because we left you behind? I thought you were dead. We all did. They hit you with a fucking
bomb
."

"Because you killed Raymond." The words were bitter, but the next were sweet. "And now I'm going to kill you."

Walt shook his head hard. "I didn't kill him. If he's dead, this is the first I've heard of it."

"Bullshit. He challenged you for control of the group and you shot him. And everyone else went along with it. Because who cares if the guy who killed the aliens murdered one human along the way?"

"Okay, so that never happened."

"Maybe you were just too drunk to remember it."

"That's more like it," he said. "But still wrong. When we argued about which way to take the group, we split up. He went his way and I went mine."

"I don't care what you tell yourself to get to sleep at night." She pressed the stock of the rifle against her shoulder. "You confessed. So here's your fucking absolution."

"Hang on a second! Who exactly did I confess to, supposedly? If I were keeping a list of my enemies, it would be big enough to sleep on."

"I didn't get her name," Mia said. "But she sure knew you."

"Describe her."

"Dark hair. Early thirties." She shook her head, dredging up the memory of the woman in the bar. "Pretty. Hispanic—Mexican-American, I think. Chin like this," she gestured. "Tough-looking. Angry-looking, too. Though that might have been the scar." She tapped her cheekbone.

He spread his arms wide. "Well, there you go! Lorna. She hates my guts. She'd tell you anything if she thought she could turn you on me."

"Why does she want you dead?"

"Funny you should ask." Walt licked his lips. "You see, she sort of blames me for the death of her husband."

Mia moved her finger to the trigger. "Fuck you."

"I'm not messing with you! After the mothership, I went down to Mexico. The Yucatan. A few years later, Lorna and her team came down to find me. Needed my help dealing with some aliens. That's what they told me, anyway. On the way back to the city, her husband got killed."

"'Got killed'? What was your role in this passively worded tragedy?"

"Watching in stupefaction as we were ambushed by aliens. I warned them, but her husband was the 'leave no man behind' type. She and I were the only ones who made it out." He scratched the stubble sprouting from his neck, eyes lost in memory. "On the way back to Los Angeles, we started up a thing. I thought it was pretty special. Right until she turned me over to the aliens."

Her head beat with asynchronous pulses of confusion and anger. She wanted to pull the trigger and walk away. To finally put this part of her life behind her. But doing that would be to act for herself. This was supposed to be about Raymond.

"Her version is you shot Raymond," she said. "What's your version?"

"After you died—after we thought you'd died—Raymond cracked up. I didn't blame him. I did the exact same thing. He just had worse timing, given that we were in the middle of losing a war with the aliens. He wanted to try to nuke the ship. Most of the others went with him."

"Where?"

"Some Air Force base. I can't remember the name. It was here in California."

"And then what?"

He shrugged. "Otto and I took down the ship. We never saw any nukes show up. That was the last time I saw Raymond or any of the others. For all I know, they're still out there."

She shifted her aim. "You're just telling me what I want to hear."

Walt laughed bitterly. "If that were true, I sure would've left out the part where Lorna blames me for the death of
her
husband."

"He's not alive," she said. "He would have found me."

"How was he supposed to find you when you're running around in drag?"

She blinked. A surge of rage passed through her so intensely that she couldn't see or hear for several moments. When her senses returned, she was surprised to find she hadn't pulled the trigger. Walt stood across from her, wisps of breath tumbling from his mouth and disappearing in the cool, dry air. Her wrath vanished just as quickly. This had the feeling of something temporary, however, like applying ice to a burnt thumb, knowing that as soon as the ice was removed, the pain would return.

"You don't remember the name of the base," she said. "Do you remember where it was?"

He gritted his teeth. "North of L.A. I think."

"You think."

"Find me a map and I might recognize the name. If that doesn't work, just follow the coast. It was by the ocean. You'll find it eventually."

"Wrong," she said. "
We'll
find it. Get walking."

"To..?"

"Out of here. For now, that's all that matters. Once we've accomplished that, we'll find a map."

"You believe me?"

"I don't know what I believe. But I've been chasing this for too long to be certain this is the end."

"For the record, I'm not thrilled with this, either. I was in the middle of something back there." He jerked his chin at the rifle. "Not to mention my lifelong aversion to having lethal weapons pointed at me."

Anger pricked her skin. "If you try
anything
, I'll do a hell of a lot more than point. Now step to it."

Wisely, he shut up and got walking. She followed a few steps behind. She felt giddy and sick and broken. He had seemed genuine, but she hated herself for wanting to believe him, for the fresh light of hope in her chest. If Walt
hadn't
killed him, then that put her back where she'd been at the start: chasing a trail that had gone cold years ago, with no idea whether Raymond was dead or alive.

And there was more to it than that. They'd seen the bomb hit the car. To them,
she'd
been dead these last six years. Even if Raymond were out there somewhere, he would have had no reason to search for her, to carry the same hope she had. Six years was a long time, especially in this day and age when your circumstances could change in a blink. It was possible he'd started over.

Without her.

She boxed these thoughts and set them aside. No sense worrying over them until they'd reached the Air Force base and she had a better handle on whether Walt was telling the truth. Even if something there indicated Walt's story was credible, the chances were low that she'd be able to find anything relating to where Raymond had gone afterward. But what else could she do?

The state road crossed I-5 and continued east. She knew there was a town a few miles ahead and she thought they might find a map there. Just past the onramps to I-5, a simple bridge spanned a canal, the low black waters reflecting the stars.

"Holy shit." Walt stopped at the edge of the bridge. "God damn it."

"Looks sturdy to me. Get hiking."

"Not the bridge. The canal. We can use it to throw off the dogs. How did I miss this before?"

Mia moved past him onto the bridge. "It's too deep to be able to wade. And it's too cold for us to swim far enough to throw off the dogs."

"I'm not suggesting we use our
legs
." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "We backtrack to the reservoir. Grab a boat. And let gravity do the work."

"Sounds like a good way to lose two hours."

"If we don't do this, we'll lose our calves instead. To the dogs. As they eat them."

She stopped and turned to gaze back at the black hills. "And if there aren't any boats?"

"Then we're fucked either way, aren't we? Might as well try the option that may not leave us feeling guilty and sticky in the morning."

She rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. He
had
been recaptured, she knew that much. Once Walt and his girl had gotten loose, it was highly unlikely the slavers would have been able to find them in this much wilderness. Not unless the couple had made a massive blunder. Or Abyss had a more effective tool at their disposal than their own eyes.

"Move fast," she said.

"I think your vocabulary's shrunk since the last time we met."

He backtracked along the road, jogging lightly. She followed. She was starting to tire and she couldn't shake the sense she was being hopelessly gullible. Her naked need to know what had happened left her as vulnerable as a hermit crab between shells.

She had a gun, though. A gun and a dwindling supply of patience. Not a good combination for anyone trying to fuck with her.

Their shoes rasped against the cracking asphalt. They hiked up the hillside and looked on the eastern lobe of the reservoir. The air smelled like fresh water. This side of the lake was separated by half a mile from the larger western branch where most of Abyss' structures were located. Walt veered from the road toward the calm shores. Grass, reeds, and a few short trees concealed its edges, but Walt moved like he'd built the place himself, homing in on a trail down to the water. After a quick glance side to side, he cut right and all but stumbled over a canoe dragged onto the fine-grained mud.