Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(67)

I gathered every ounce of courage within me, and raced around the corner, entering the kitchen from the opposite side. The lights were on, blinding my eyes, but the room was empty. I went straight for the fridge, grabbing all the keys from the black ceramic bowl beside it, and returned to the back door.

I opened the door as quietly as I could and bolted outside on numb legs. The freezing air slapped against my face, stealing my breath. I ran for the only thing I thought might help.

The generator. Just outside the kitchen window. Maybe if I could turn off the lights I could give Chase a chance to get out.

I slammed on the brakes in front of the humming metal box, searching desperately through the darkness for the switch. I didn’t have time to get the flashlight out. Every second mattered now.

In my silence I heard another sound break through the night and froze. Footsteps. They were far off; I thought for a moment it might even be the cows in the field. My spine went rigid when I heard low human voices, when the footsteps drew closer.

It couldn’t be Patrick and Chase: They were inside, as were Mary Jane and Ronnie. This had to be Billings.

I listened as hard as I could, but the noise from the generator blocked me from picking anything up. There were definitely men arriving at the house, but how had they gotten here? I hadn’t heard a car approaching.

It didn’t matter. Chase was still inside.

I felt down the serrated metal sides of the power source in a panic. Something burned my hand, and I bit back a cry. Finally I found the switch, flipped the protective sheath back, and shut down the machine.

My ears rang in the sudden presence of silence. The kitchen window above me went black.

There was a great deal of commotion from the darkness inside, and with the fear taking over, I ran blindly. I stumbled over the rocks and raised patches of grass. The moonlight cast an ethereal silver glow over the pasture, and I felt the dull eyes of the cows in the field upon me.

I didn’t go to the woods. I ran toward the barn. I had the keys. I might be able to get the gun and then find Chase and … I couldn’t think any farther ahead than that. I was just pulling open the huge wooden door when I heard someone behind me.

No!

I spun toward the house but was unable to see in the darkness. Crouching into the shadows, I held my breath, knowing whoever had followed might not see me in the faint light if I didn’t move, but if I ran, they could track the sound.

The steps didn’t stop, and a great shadow blocked the moon. Then strong arms lifted me bodily from the ground and hauled me inside the barn. I opened my mouth to scream, and one large hand clamped down over it.

Chase.

I sobbed for joy when I realized it was him. He didn’t speak. He set me down once inside and ran to the back, looking for the rear exit. It was locked and chained. He kicked it, and the wood splintered. He kicked it again, and the chain fell to the ground. Too much noise!

“Keys!” I whisper-shouted, and revealed to him everything that I had stuffed into my denim pockets.

He searched through them briefly. I thought he was looking for the key to the gun cabinet, but he wasn’t. He let the remaining rings fall to the ground with a clatter and heaved me toward the motorcycle.

An instant later I was mounted behind him. He turned the key and squeezed the clutch with his left hand. The bike hummed softly, but did not yet growl like I knew it would.

I did not hesitate like I had a year ago. I slid close behind him, fit my knees into the backs of his, and wrapped my arms tightly around his body. I couldn’t hear anyone following yet.

“Keep your head down,” he ordered. “And hold on.”

I nodded, my cheek pressed hard into his back.

We pushed out the back door of the barn, which faced the woods. Chase steered right, walking the bike toward the far side of the darkened house. My heart thumped through my chest into Chase’s ribs. We were almost there. Almost to the driveway.

Finally, we could see down the gravel path curving toward the main road. Two cars were parked on the street, but both were empty. They’d left them there in order to surprise us.

A knife of fear punctured my lungs, and I could barely breathe. Not just cars. FBR cruisers.

Billings was a soldier. The FBR bought the Loftons’ cattle.

The government owned most of the major food-distribution plants now. Horizons had bought out all the big brand names during the War. Of course Patrick would sell beef to them.

Chase grabbed my hand on his chest, squeezed it tightly, and rammed his foot down on the pedal. An explosion of growls filled the air. The sound would definitely be heard within the house.

I gritted my teeth and held on.

We hit the road in a spray of gravel. I don’t know if Patrick and the soldiers came outside. I didn’t look back.

We didn’t stop until we reached the road. It took Chase less than thirty seconds to swing his leg over the front of the bike, jump off, and puncture the tires on both vehicles before we were off again.

*



WE rode toward a town called Hinton; I saw the name dimly shimmer on a green metallic road sign and felt the crushing blow of defeat as we passed the exit to Lewisburg. We had to. The Loftons would have told the MM they’d planned on taking us there.

We were going to miss the carrier.

As the adrenaline wore off, I began to tremble, though I didn’t know if it was from the freezing air clawing through my clothing, or from the fear.