Ellyssa flicked her gaze toward the stream. Cool, thirst-quenching water ran over river rocks, shimmering with browns and greys. So was the possibility of bacteria. She turned away from the rushing stream and unscrewed the cap, then took one last small, unsatisfying sip.
Standing with care, Ellyssa slowly distributed her weight. Sharp teeth of pain clamped onto her wound. She yelped as her right leg buckled, sending her back to the ground. The already tender leg banged against jagged rocks and more skin scraped off. A slow burn mingled with the rest of the aches and pains.
Thoughts of the beatings she’d endured while training were diminished to trivial nuisances. Nothing compared to the way she felt now.
Eyes watering, Ellyssa held her leg, refusing to let the agony get the best of her.
She is superior. Weakness is intolerable. Absolute control over all situations
. Her father’s words repeated in her head, over and over, until she managed to push the pain aside and gain control.
Calmly, she regarded her right thigh. An angry redness spread from under the makeshift bandage. She gingerly poked it with her finger. An unhealthy yellow depression bloomed before the red reestablished its presence. After untying the bandage, she carefully pulled it away. Stringy pus, tinged green with red dots, stretched from the fabric to the wound.
Disgusting.
Ellyssa glanced at what little liquid was left in the bottle, her only source of clean water, and then the stream. Given little choice, she rose and limped to the babbling water, grabbing her bag along the way.
After retrieving the scissors and the antiseptic cream, she took off the coveralls. Blood stiffened the material of her tan skirt. She took it off, too. She cut off the remaining leg of her coveralls, then cut the clean part of the skirt into strips.
Using part of the skirt, Ellyssa scrubbed the wound while biting the inside of her cheek to hold back the screams. The pain was beyond belief, clouding her vision and rolling waves of nausea through her stomach. When she was done, she let the blood flow to clean the wound before re-bandaging her leg and shrugging back into the coveralls.
She gathered her items and stepped into the stream. Water lapped at her calves. She cautiously measured every step to ensure she wouldn’t fall. She couldn’t afford any more injuries. Her pace was already considerably slower than yesterday.
Ellyssa hoped the police were going upstream and the dogs, as they had undoubtedly been brought in by now, hadn’t found her scent. Wishing she could walk on the bank, but knowing such carelessness would prove to be a fatal mistake, she picked up speed, pushing her already overly-taxed body. She kept her eyes downcast as she navigated the rocks. Her arms swinging in stiff arcs, she pressed on, forcing her legs to move faster. She’d regret it tomorrow, she knew, but nevertheless, she didn’t slow.
Under the heat of the afternoon sun, perspiration gathered on Ellyssa’s forehead and dripped down her face, stinging the sores on her lips. She took another sip of her dwindling water supply. Soon she’d be forced to drink the water she was sloshing through. She shoved the thought out of her mind to worry about later.
Right now another pressing sensation gnawed in the pit of her stomach, protesting the emptiness. Hunger echoed in the hollow depths of her gut. With the expenditure of her energy, water couldn’t be her only source of sustenance. She’d have to find food. The forest in late summer provided all the nourishment she’d need in the forms of fruits and roots. If worst came to worst, the little minnows struggling to hold their positions against the current could be a delicacy.
She left the safety of the water and moved into the grass bordering the rocky edges. As predicted, just a few meters away from the stream, blackberry vines burst with ripened fruit. She hobbled over to them, her mouth watering and stomach rumbling in anticipation.
Ellyssa placed the dark purple fruit on her tongue and squeezed it against the roof of her mouth. The sweet juice soothed her burning throat. Sitting down, she picked another, and another, following the same procedure, until her stomach began to swell.
Making camp next to the food supply would be ideal, at least until she could decide on her next course of action, but that was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She started to take turns with the berries, one in her mouth and one in an empty water bottle, filling the container with the fruit.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she pulled her feet under her and stood. Her body uttered a scream of defiance that, thankfully, calmed to a mumbled complaint. She wallowed back to the stream, submerged her feet in the icy water, and continued downstream.
She stumbled in the water until twilight consumed the east and the sun fell to the horizon in the west. Against the bluish-black sky, the first stars winked into view.
Shivering and completely exhausted, Ellyssa stopped her march and stepped onto dry land, where she dropped to her knees on a patch of grass. She took off her shoes and socks and dried her prune-like feet with a strip of cloth. No longer mobile, she felt the coolness of the night sap away the warmth in her body. Huddling into a tight ball, she lay on the ground and, almost immediately, sleep reached up and laid claim to her.
“Detective Petersen, they picked up the trail of the Renegade,” said the Captain of the Warrensburg Department, Dyllon Jones. She still found his manner of speech strange, as if every vowel had to be drawn out, so unlike the way citizens spoke in the city.
Angela aimed the flashlight into his face.
Flinching, the captain brought the hand holding the radio up to shield his eyes. “Hey!” It sounded more like,
ha-a-ay
.
“Sorry,” Angela said. She moved the beam down so it pooled on his chest. “Where?”
“About one hundred sixty-one meters away. She left footprints in the soil,” he replied.
Angela gazed at the sky; stars glittered brightly against the black velvet. “Have them mark the area and call everyone in, but I want them back at five in the morning.”
She studied the man again. Like the rest of the unit, he wore a dark green uniform, signifying area police. His face was beaded with perspiration, and his hair, which she knew was cream in color, clung to his head in a darkened mess. He wasn’t a bad-looking man. Tall, lean muscles, defined cheekbones, strong jaw, perfect mouth; and when his lips broke into a smile, which happened a lot, his whole face lit up.
Regardless, Captain Jones fell short by the detective’s standards. His hair leaned more toward a yellow than white, and his skin was darker than the alabaster of perfection. She did like his eyes, though. They weren’t the clear azure color of the perfect being, but they were interesting, the warm bluish-green of the deep ocean.
As she scrutinized him, he pulled out the radio and relayed her orders. Static sounded, followed by someone answering,
yes, sir
.
The captain whipped out a bandana and sopped his forehead. “It sure is hot,” he remarked, looking at her.
Hot was an understatement. Angela found Missouri not only to be hot, but very humid. She’d spent the better half of a day swatting at the persistent gnats circling her head. She flipped her head up in acknowledgement, which apparently gave him the go-ahead for more small talk.
“You’re staying in Warrensburg, right?”
“Yes,” she answered curtly and returned her attention to the map. From the corner of her eye, Angela watched Captain Jones’ shadow as his weight shifted from one foot to the other as if waiting for a more elaborate explanation. Irritated, she rolled up the map and shoved it under her arm. “I need the dogs returned to the kennel.”
“I’ll take care of it for you.”
“Thank you,” she replied, as she walked toward her car parked on the side of the access road.
“See you tomorrow.”
Angela lifted her hand in a halfhearted wave, then opened the door of the green Volkswagen Beetle and slid inside. She peered at Dyllon, who was standing next to the cardboard table she’d just left. The captain’s arm flapped up and down as he gave orders into the handheld radio.
She hoped he wasn’t going to pose a problem. The discipline in the smaller communities seemed to be lacking. Something she’d discuss with her superiors when she returned successful. Starting the car, Angela eased onto the blacktop and drove into town.
7
Tremors rocked Ellyssa’s body and her teeth clacked together like castanets. Even though the sun hovered in the eastern sky, and she could feel the heat on her skin and hair, zero warmth sank into her flesh. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, rough and swollen and crusted with blood. Thirst clawed at her throat.
Was she sick?
In all her life, Ellyssa had never experienced illness. Diseases had been eradicated in the general population, but this was a different type of sickness, caused from the injuries.
She’d never felt so vulnerable. So weak.
She grabbed the empty bottle nestled under her arm and turned to face the bubbling stream. Refreshing water lapped over the rocks, splaying droplets glittering seductively under the sun. Her tongue flicked out, like a snake’s, as if she could pull the moisture from the air.
Ellyssa shifted onto her elbows. Her muscles seized. Pain licked through her body, and a cramp bunched her calf muscle. Pressing her face into the grass, she stretched her toes outward. The cramp lessened to an irritating pull.
The water babbled, mockingly.
How far was it? Five meters?
Reaching her arms out in front, Ellyssa dug her fingers into the soil and pulled. Her body scooted along the grass. She wrapped her fingers around some shoots and a rock embedded in the ground before heaving herself closer to the edge of the stony shore. Exhausted, she lowered her head and rested on a flat river stone.
Displeased, Angela stood at the bank of the stream where the dogs had lost the scent of the escapee. She couldn’t believe it. The trail had been so easy to follow from the field to the woods, before disappearing at a tree. It’d taken the dogs the better half of the day to pick up her scent again. Now, another obstacle. She sneered at the running water.
Every minute that ticked by led Ellyssa farther and farther away.
Her hands clenched into tight fists, the detective looked back and forth between the German Shepherds as they circled around with their noses to the ground and their tails wagging. Occasionally, one of the dogs broke through the water to the other side where it would continue its search.
Four members of the search team, two assigned to each dog, stayed close to the canines. Another group of three trailed behind. All of them had Electroshock weapons hanging from the sides of their utility belts. The vision of perfection was to be brought back alive.
Although, sometimes, unfortunate accidents do happen
. Angela wiggled her foot and felt the pressure of the holster against her leg. The doctor might refuse to see the danger, but she wasn’t going to be caught by surprise again.
“There is no telling which way she went,” Dyllon said, breaking her out of her reverie.
Slack-jawed, Angela glared at him. As if she needed him to inform her of the obvious. “I’m well aware of the situation,” she muttered.
“I was just saying.” Captain Jones waved his arm in an arc in front of him, like he was showing her the scenery. The remaining part of the sentence died on his lips when her expression twisted into a scowl. Shoving his hands into his pockets, the captain turned away and looked off into the forest. “How would you like to proceed, Detective?”
“Search around the trees closest to the water within a fifty-meter radius. If your men have to leave the stream, make sure they understand to go back to the exact point where they left.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her mouth curved down. “She’s not your average Renegade. She is smarter, faster, trained, and can be quite deadly.”
Dyllon turned back toward her with a quizzical expression.
“Make sure your men understand the situation.”
“Maybe, if I was better informed, you would find the whole unit more useful.”
Raising her brows, she responded, “I have told you everything that will be useful in the investigation. You make sure your team understands.”
She left Dyllon in charge and went back to the base camp, which was pitched close to the point where Ellyssa had first entered the wooded area. A few other people milled around the site. Two men were checking supplies, while a man and a woman were gridding a map into two-and-a-half centimeter squares.
She went to the table where her map lay already gridded. It was an older map from the 1940s, but it showed all the small townships that’d existed during the time; the modern charts lacked the details of towns that had been abandoned.
A few years after The War, people had been instructed to move to the bigger cities where they could work or in the outskirts to farm. Having all citizens in close proximity led to better control. All the smaller communities were now rotting away.
She used a compass to measure the equivalency of fifteen kilometers on the apex and drew a circle around the area where Ellyssa’s scent had disappeared into the stream. While studying the chart, she listed all the small towns on a piece of paper.
When she was done, she reluctantly pulled out her cell phone to call the doctor. He wouldn’t be pleased with the lack of progress.
Flipping the phone shut, Dr. Hirch opened the door to the lab. He controlled his outward appearance, but deep down, he was worried about the whole situation. Ellyssa had gotten farther than he’d expected.
“Report your progress,” he said to the assistant. He managed to keep his voice smooth and steady.
“Almost done,” Leland answered while he finished applying the adhesive to Aalexis’ temple, where he would connect the next electrode.
Dr. Hirch’s youngest daughter sat unmoving, waiting. Her blond hair was slicked back and pulled into a ponytail. Rows of platinum curls cascaded down her back where the hair escaped the confines of the elastic band. Except for the ringlets, thinner lips, and the defined chin, she looked almost identical to Ellyssa when she was thirteen.