USFO

{If this one sounds a little weird, it's because it is. It's based on a dream I had one night, which explains away all the little bits and pieces that don't fit, like running forty miles in ten minutes... (I think I left that in... maybe I should take it out). Anyway, read it with a grain of salt. ;o) }

The car pulled into a parking space in front of Wal-Mart. The driver got out of the car, saying she would only be a minute. I watched her go, unworried. There had been no USFO activity for nearly a week.
USFO. They were out to get me. I don't really know why. Something to do with a science experiment, I think. Nobody really knows who they are, not even the government. Nobody knows what the acronym stands for, either. Some people think it might be a play off of UFO's, but I doubt it.
I reclined the chair and calmed my nerves. They had been on edge all week, anticipating another USFO strike. I began to relax for the first time in a long, long time. The USFO must have forgotten about me.
I had almost convinced myself of that and was ready to take a short nap when motion caught my eye. I turned my head out of habit and my heart stopped beating for a moment.
A USFO "Monster" car was pulling into a space five slots up and one aisle over from my vehicle.
But they couldn't know I was here! They just couldn't! Maybe they were playing a hunch. Maybe they weren't even looking for me. Yes, that was it.
But I couldn't afford to take chances. I shoved my feet into my shoes without taking time to tie them, just stepping on the back of the shoe, and grabbed the door handle. I waited until the agent in the "Monster" car was looking the other way before opening the door and jumping out.
My timing was off and I was spotted. I heard a door open, someone shout my code name, and the telltale sound of a "Monster" engine starting up. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, daring only one glance over my shoulder and nearly getting clipped by a car in the process. The "Monster" car pulled out of the space and drove in my general direction just as another car slipped into the empty slot. The parking lot was crowded. My only chance was to get inside Wal-Mart. They couldn't drive in there and it would take a while for them to find another empty space.
I ran as fast as I could toward the entrance, dodging cars and ignoring blaring horns. I finally made it to the electronic doors and turned just in time to see a second "Monster" car roar up. I darted into the store and searched for my driver/bodyguard. I spotted her down an aisle way and approached her quickly. She was just closing her cell phone as I reached her.
Her mouth dropped open. "What are you doing in here?" she demanded. "Do you realize how risky this is?"
I nodded and spoke two words that silenced her protests. "USFO outside."
Her whole demeanor changed, and she became very brusque and business-like. "Okay. You have to get out of here. Is there a back door?"
"I think so." I headed toward the back of the store, my bodyguard trailing twenty feet behind. I wished I could take the time to put my shoes on properly.
I found a salesman and asked him where the back door was, trying to convey my urgency.
He thought for a moment. "I'm almost positive there's one around here somewhere."
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, nearly out of my mind with impatience.
"I think it's over there." He pointed to a corner positively stuffed with doors. "Let me go get the key." He meandered off toward the front.
I watched him go, saw him encounter my bodyguard, and bit back a smile as he ran to the front of the store.
Minutes later, he was back with the key. He let us out into an alleyway. After curtly thanking him, my guard told me she was going to do something about our government-issued car. I sat down and put my shoes on properly, lacing them tight.
Then I stood to follow my driver and stopped short at her scream. I froze, but only for a pair of heartbeats. I turned and took off in the opposite direction. I ran as fast as I could, down alleys and through side streets, desperately trying to shake the USFO agents on my tail. It proved to be impossible. They dogged my every step, but I kept going.
I turned on the speed, feeling my feet pound against the pavement and mentally chanting to the rhythm. Got-to-run! Got-to-run! Got-to-run! I was not even breathing hard yet. I was in wonderful shape, but so were the USFO agents behind me. I could tell I was in for a long, strenuous race, one that not even my adrenaline would be able to help me win.
I ran for what must have been hours. Now I was gasping for breath, and sweat poured down my face. I heard one agent yell to her friend incredulously, "It's been thirty miles!"
My mind reeled. No wonder I was exhausted. Had it really been that far? But I had to keep going. I was running for my life. I could feel the blood pulsing through my neck and my heart felt like it would burst out of my chest. I dashed across an empty parking lot.
One of the agents, a thick man, came too close for comfort and almost grabbed me. At the last possible moment I twisted away and found enough strength for another burst of speed and marginally outdistanced him.
I ran on and on, never able to lose the USFO agents still on my trail. I ran what had to be another ten miles. The chase had been going on for nearly five hours now. I could feel every jar of my legs hitting the asphalt, pushing off, and hitting again. My legs were quivering, but still I pressed on. I began to slow even though I didn't want to, and it became harder and harder to take another step. At least the USFO agents had to be tiring as well.
Somewhere deep inside, I knew I couldn't go any farther. I slipped down a side street and ducked into a small alley. I stopped short. It was a dead end.
My vision blurred and my legs were shaking uncontrollably. My chest was heaving up and down, trying to get enough air in my lungs. Tears of exhaustion and defeat streamed down my cheeks. I knew there was no chance of escaping now. I could not backtrack. They would intercept me. I couldn't fight my way clear of them, and even if I could, there was no way I could run any more. The chase was over, and I had lost.
I staggered over to the far wall and drew my pistol. My legs refused to support me any longer, so I collapsed into a corner, my back pressed against the wall. I tried to aim the weapon at the entrance to the alley, but my hands were shaking so bad that the gun slipped from my fingers and hit the ground with a loud clatter. I was sure the agents could have heard the noise from Timbuktu. My whole body was trembling from exertion and I couldn't still the tremors, or stop the tears that flowed down my face, drenching the collar of my shirt. A black curtain began to fall. I didn't fight it.
Before the darkness overtook me, I realized that it was a good thing. I didn't want to be conscious when they found and took me.

PART TWO

Dark forms bent over me. Muted conversations eluded my hearing. I tried to raise my head, but my muscles wouldn't cooperate. I felt strangely detached from my body; I couldn't move anything. Arms slid under my shoulders and knees and lifted me like a child. I was carried to a car and laid in the back on the ground where a seat should have been. A familiar engine roared in my ears. The sound made my heart pound and my head spin. I was scared, but couldn't remember why. I couldn't place the sound, but knew that I was in big trouble if I was hearing it. Before I could recall what it was from, I blacked out again.

PART THREE

I opened my eyes, and instantly regretted it. Harsh light forced them shut. I squinted as a compromise and tried to adjust to the illumination. I was lying on a hard cot in a small, stark room. The five-by-seven enclosure was bare, except for the cot, and the walls were devoid of paint or any decoration. There was a light bulb extending down from the ceiling with a chain dangling below that, and a window on one side. A weather-beaten, old wooden door was to the left of my cot. Other than that, the room was empty.
I couldn't remember where I was, or what I was doing here. I wanted desperately to be at home in my own bed, with the comforting feeling that. . . someone. . . was looking out for me.
I turned my neck with great difficulty. It was sore. I could feel every muscle protest at the motion. Something was etched deeply into the door. Letters. If I turned just a little more, I could make them out.
U. . . S. . . F. . . O.
And it all came back.
I remembered everything about that horrible chase through the streets. The six hour run that had covered almost forty miles. Slipping into unconsciousness right before they caught up with me. Wal-Mart. My bodyguard's scream. I wondered what they had done to her.
Experimentally, I moved my hands. They were not bound, but I could still hardly get them to respond. Every part of my body was stiff, sore and screaming in pain. I would just have to ignore it.
I winced as I sat up and swung my legs off the cot. It might be a little harder to ignore that I thought. I eased myself into a standing position and promptly sat back down as a wave of dizziness washed over me, causing my legs to buckle. I waited a few seconds and tried again.
This time I braced myself against the wall. My legs held, even though they didn't want to. Tentatively, I took a step. It hurt. Every muscle in my legs protested, but I kept going. Placing one foot in front of the other in steady succession and trying not to pay attention to the pain, I made my way to the door.
I tried the handle, just in case.
I needn't have bothered. It was locked. I sighed in vexation and stumbled over to the window. There were no bars on it, and I assumed it unlocked from the inside like most respectable windows. In which case and the event that there were no guards outside, I could open it and slip out. Maybe.
It unlocked from the inside, and I could see no guards. My spirits soared and I pushed against it to test the hinges. I had to bite back a scream of frustration. It was welded shut, and a guard moved into my line of vision.
I returned to my cot and slumped against the wall, tears of defeat stealing down my cheeks. My captors had not forgotten anything. My holster was empty, the gun either still lying in the alley or in USFO possession, and my knife was gone. The pouch I kept around my waist with emergency supplies was still there, but it was a safe bet that the switchblade, cell phone, and pager it contained were gone. I unzipped it and confirmed my guess. All that was left was a comic book, two juice packs, a protein bar, painkillers, and a slightly squashed “Snickers”.
I took a painkiller and gulped some juice to wet my parched mouth. By pressing lightly on my skin and watching color spring back the instant my finger moved, I ascertained that I was not dehydrated, so they must have given me water while I was out. Then I peeled back the wrapper on the candy bar and nibbled at it half-heartedly. I wasn't hungry, but needed all the energy I could get. I planned on saving the protein bar for later, and the carbs in a “Snickers” should give me a sugar rush.
There was nothing I could do but wait. Wait for the USFO representative to show his or her face. Wait for a chance to get out of this hellhole. I remembered a book I had read once, something about Star Wars. In it they called the bad guys "Sithspit" or "Sithspawn." That sounded like a good name to me. I decided to employ it at the earliest opportunity.
I sat on the cot, fuming over my situation and thinking of all the descriptive terms that I could use when the representative finally came to see me. Then I began to wonder how on earth I was going to get out of this mess. I fumed and fretted alternately for nearly two hours before I noticed any signs of life anywhere.
A shadowy form crossed in front of the window, and I jumped up. Limping as fast as I could over to the window, I craned my neck to see who it was. There was nobody in sight, not even a guard. Crestfallen, I leaned against the wall and stared at the door.
It opened.
I blinked, trying to make sure I wasn't hallucinating.
A woman entered my cell. She was thin, almost gaunt, and her short black hair fell in wisps around her face. Cold blue eyes examined me quickly, moved around the rest of the room, then returned to me. Her lips were pressed together in a thin line, and she was wearing too much make-up.
"Gray Fox?" she asked, using my code name. Her voice carried a thick accent that I couldn't place.
I remained silent. I wasn't going to supply any more information than I had to, and they might not be sure they had the right agent.
"Gray Fox, you might as well know that you are in the hands of the USFO."
"Oh, really?" I said sarcastically. "I thought these were the guest quarters in the White House."
She shot me a chilling gaze, which I largely ignored. "Things will go considerably easier on you if you decide to cooperate."
I fixed an unconcerned look on my face and didn't answer.
She pulled a piece of paper and a pencil from her pocket. "What is your real name?"
"Martha Stewart," I replied as seriously as I could. With any luck, she might not be familiar with too many American things.
She marked down my answer. I contained my grin and waited for the next question.
"Age?"
"Thirty-nine."
She gave me a puzzled look but wrote down the number. "Birthplace?"
"California, Napa State Hospital."
She seemed completely satisfied with that answer. I could barely hold my laughter back.
"Occupation other than scientist?"
"Homemaker."
"What is that?"
I swallowed a giggle. "Kind of like a construction worker."
She nodded. "What experiments have you been conducting within the last month?"
I struggled to keep a straight face. "Well, there was that whole Frankenstein bit, but I ordered the wrong brain, so I had to scrap it. Then I fiddled around with creating another Whangdoodle, but I never could get the slippers to regenerate properly, or the sweet tooth quite right. So I forgot about it." I thought for a moment. "Then I tried to find a cure for the common cold. And there was the whole dehydrated water experiment coupled with food and air pipes from Earth to Mars. I think that's about it."
"Okay." She gave me a funny look. "I'll be back later." She left.
I counted to fifty before letting out all the laughter I had kept in. I could not restrain it, and laughed uncontrollably for the next few minutes. She was going to get chewed out when she delivered that form to her superior. Unless he or she knew even less than she did about America.
Unfortunately, she got chewed out. That is, unfortunately for me, not her. She returned in a cold fury, hurling what I took to be insults in a foreign language at me, and stomping around the small room. I, who had moved back up to the cot, folded my arms behind my head and watched her rant and rave. Finally, she calmed down.
"Will you answer those questions properly?"
I considered, and made a big deal of thinking it through. "No."
She turned her back to me, and I heard her muttering something. Then she faced me again. "You are only making this harder on yourself."
"And you," I added. "And your time frame. And whatever Sithspawn you're reporting to." That felt surprisingly satisfying.
Her face turned a lovely shade of red. "Foolish American. We can find out everything about you!"
I half-smiled. "Do it, then. Why bother me with silly questions?"
I thought she would insult me more, but she flung another question at me, hoping to catch me off guard. "Where are the keys to your laboratory?"
My laboratory. What was in my laboratory that the USFO could possibly want? "Around my neck," I calmly replied without missing a beat.
"Tell me or else—" she stopped abruptly. "Around your neck?" She sounded surprised.
I nodded. "Yes."
She thrust out her hand. "Give them to me."
I pulled a rawhide strip from around my neck. Two keys dangled from it. I tossed them to her.
She grabbed for them, fumbled, and picked them up from the floor. I smiled. She glared. "Are these the keys?"
"One of them is."
"What is the other one for?"
"My laboratory safe."
She smiled a feral grin. "The USFO will be pleased to learn you can be cooperative when you need to be."
"You mean I listen to reason when applied with brute force?"
She frowned. "What does that mean?"
"It means I do what you want when I'm threatened."
That grin again. "Yes. That is what I mean." The door clicked shut behind her.
I smiled. They had never said which laboratory keys they wanted. I had three labs. Those were the keys to my home lab, which was pretty empty except for a few formulas and test tubes that were of no value to anyone. The safe held a few hundred dollars and my Master's degree diploma, but that was it. They were going to have to search a long time to find the keys to my main lab.
My lab. That really narrowed down the possibilities of what they wanted. Obviously they were after my experiments with DNA. It had been rumored that I was near a breakthrough in the cloning area. That was far from the truth. I had never even experimented with cloning. The very thought sent shudders down my spine. But what I had been working on was too important to risk letting it get out, so the government had leaked out false stories to throw people like the USFO off the track. I wished it hadn't worked quite so well.
I glanced out the window. Another shadowy form passed by, but as soon as I got over there and looked out, there was no one in sight. I returned to my cot, frustrated. I had to get out of there. Sooner or later, the USFO was going to realize that my work had nothing to do with cloning. When that happened, they would either let me go—which was rather wishful thinking on my part—or kill me—which was very likely—or press me for information on what I was really working on. The latter would be highly detrimental to a great many people. I only wished that I had been more careful with my results.
The next three hours crawled by. I read the comic book in my pack four times, paced the length of my cell twenty-three times, looked out of the window more times than I care to count, and finally took a nap.
A tapping sound woke me.
I jumped up and looked around, trying to remember where it had come from.
Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Taptap.
The window. I hurried over to it and looked out. A dark form stood in front of it, gesturing frantically. I tried to see through the gloom—It had turned night outside, and there was a light inside my room—but could not figure out what the figure wanted. I pointed to the window and pressed me hands together, hoping to show that it wouldn't open. Then I crossed over and turned off the light, hoping that would help my vision.
It did. A man, about thirty years old with brown hair, non-descript features, and a gun, stood outside. He waved his hand to the side and I stepped out of line of the window.
Not a moment too soon. A rock whistled through the air, smashed the window and thudded against the door. I cringed. Every person in the whole building had to have heard that.
"Hurry up," the man hissed. "We don't have a lot of time."
An alarm pierced the silence as I grabbed my pack off the cot and fastened it around my waist. "I'm ready."
He helped me out the window and began to edge along the wall, gripping my hand firmly. I found his grasp somehow reassuring.
"What about the alarm?" I asked urgently. "Maybe we had better go faster than this."
He glanced over at me as if seeing me for the first time. "Oh, the alarm? A little distraction one of my friends cooked up. We're clear. . . for the moment. But we still have to hurry." He pulled me after him as he darted across a small clearing. "See that field?" he pointed to a clearing some five hundred feet away partially illuminated by the main building’s lights.
I nodded.
"My car is parked over there. If something happens to me, run for it. Here's the key." He pressed a cold metal object into my hand. I shoved it in my pocket.
We kept creeping along the shadows, trying to get to the vehicle. Then another alarm sounded. My rescuer cursed vehemently. "There goes our cover!" He started to run, dragging me along behind him.
Searchlights immediately lit up the entire area, sweeping the ground for the escapee. We reached a barbed wire fence and I vaulted it as he climbed through. The spotlights hit us, illuminating our running forms. I turned on the speed as I heard shouts coming from behind us. Guns fired and bullets whistled around our heads. I felt a burning on my right arm, as if someone had pressed a red hot iron against it. I glanced down. There was blood seeping through a rip in my sleeve.
My escort staggered and almost fell. A bullet had grazed his left leg. I caught him and held him up in a half-carry. We hobbled the rest of the distance to the car. I shoved him in the passenger's side and hurried to the driver's seat.
The key was in the ignition two seconds later. I turned it.
Nothing happened.
I bit back a scream and tried again.
The car started. I floored the gas and the car's tires screeched on the pavement as I sped out of the lot.
I looked over at the man in the seat next to me. His face was pale, but his eyes were bright and alert. "Where are we going?"
He looked at me, a sense of respect in his gaze. "Go down this road, then turn right onto the highway."
I nodded and twisted the steering wheel as we came to a curve. Seconds later we were at the highway. I turned onto it. "Now?"
"Keep going. They're sure to send those 'Monster' cars after us. We need as much of a start as we can."
"Who are you?" I belatedly noticed he had a Spanish accent.
He smiled. "My name isn't important, Fox. You can call me Panther for convenience, however. Most people do."
"All right, Panther. Who sent you?"
"Your government hired me to get you out of there. Paid handsomely, too."
"So you're a mercenary?"
"Such a harsh term. Let's say I'm an independent operator for hire."
"Whose loyalty can be bought."
"For a price. To the right buyer. I don't offer my services to just anyone."
"A merc with morals. How quaint." My tone was dry.
"Don't knock it. I got you out of there, didn't I?"
"Yes. You have my eternal gratitude." I looked up into the rearview mirror. No sign of pursuit. "They certainly gave up quickly."
"Don't count on it. The USFO has operators in every city around for miles. They'll activate one of them to watch for us. We're not safe yet."
I believed him. "So what does that mean?"
"We keep going as long as we can."
"You don't have any safe houses set up?"
"Listen, Fox. I was given this job last night. This is more of a 'fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants' type thing."
I sighed. "So I just keep driving until this thing runs out of gas?"
"Yes." He indicated the gas gauge. "It has two tanks, plus an auxiliary tank. They're all full. We can keep going until morning without stopping to fill up."
"Where are we going?"
"I'm hoping to make the airport before dawn."
"How far away is that?"
"Well, the closest one is three hours away, but it's a cinch they'll be watching that one. The next is five hours further, which will probably be watched as well. So we travel eleven hours and hit the next one. It should be clear."
"Oh, joy. Eleven hours on the road." I was glad I had taken a nap. I winced. My arm was starting to throb. "Do you have a strip of cloth or something to bind this with?" I asked. "You should probably do something about your leg, as well."
He nodded and twisted in his seat. Panther grabbed a box out of the back and opened it. It was a severely depleted first-aid kit. All that was left was a couple of Band-Aids, three ACE bandages, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. "What should I do with it?" he asked.
I groaned. Didn't this guy know anything? "Pour some of the alcohol onto a bandage and wrap it tight around my arm. That will disinfect the wound and stop the bleeding. Then do the same for your leg."
He nodded and followed my instructions. I hissed as the alcohol stung the open wound and bit back a frustration word as he pulled the bandage tight around my arm and tied it off. It would begin to numb soon. "Thanks," I gasped.
He mumbled something and attended to his own injury.
Three hours later I couldn't feel my right arm from six inches below the shoulder down, and I was still driving on what seemed to be an endless road. Panther was dozing, so I reached down and turned on the radio. A burst of static hit my ears and I played with the tuner, trying to find a station that would come through. There weren't any. I sighed and flicked it off.
Panther slit his eyes open. "My radio doesn't work."
"So I gathered."
"Are you getting tired?"
"No. Just bored."
"I've got some tapes in the back."
"Like what?"
He collected them and began to list the categories. "A couple of rock bands, the Dr. Laura show, the ransom message for—" he cut off abruptly.
"What was that last one?"
"Nothing," he said stiffly.
"No, I want to hear it."
He shook his head. "No."
I glared at him and added a hint of steel to my voice. "Listen, Panther. I want to hear it. Turn it on."
He sighed and fished it out. "Just so everyone knows it wasn't my idea." He popped it in and turned on the stereo.
“This is a message to the United States of America, a low, accented male voice said. We hold the key to the future of cloning.” Ah. So my work had not been compromised yet. That was good to know. “This key is one of your scientists. We have her, and will do whatever is necessary to extract the secrets from her.” That wasn't surprising. I had expected that from the beginning. “You have two options: The first is to give us all the cloning secrets this Doctor has discovered, plus fifty million dollars, and we will return her relatively unharmed.” That was a laugh. As soon as they got the "secrets" and the money, they'd either kill me or spirit me away to a different hiding spot and claim I was killed in a "mishap". “The second is to let us have her. If you choose the second option, we will still get the cloning secrets, but not the money and you will not have your precious Doctor to continue experiments. It makes no difference to us what you choose.”
The voice paused for a moment, then continued. “Since you will find out anyway, let us save you the investigation. We located the Doctor by means of her bodyguard.” My jaw dropped. “She is on the USFO payroll. Do not bother searching for her. You will be wasting your time.
“There you have it, Americans. Your doctor's future, and the future of cloning, hangs in the balance. Think carefully before you act. There will be further instructions once you have made your decision.” The message repeated itself, beginning to end.
The voice cut out, and there were a few seconds of a young female voice speaking rapidly in a foreign language. Then the tape stopped.
I took a deep breath, filling my lungs to capacity, and let it out slowly. "So. I understand why I wasn't meant to listen to it."
Panther nodded unhappily.
"Don't worry. I won't let on that I know anything about a ransom."
"But what about your bodyguard? Will you trust another one?"
"A good question. I'll handle that one alone on my own time schedule."
"It's your life, Fox." Panther's eyes slid shut again.
“Thank you for noticing,” I said dryly.
He smiled.
A very good question, I thought. Her being a USFO agent certainly explains some things. Such as the cell phone at Wal-Mart, and how they knew I would be there in the first place. Talk about a low-security area. I wonder why I didn't catch on before? I mentally berated myself for a few seconds, and tried to think of other signs that my guard had been a double agent. There were none that I had been trained to look for.
The real question here is, why did they bother to tell us? My brow furrowed in concentration. They can't profit from that. As they said, the FBI or CIA would have found out anyway, but why save us the trouble? The longer we search, the more time their agents have to ensconce their positions, or escape. Unless.... My skin smoothed. Unless there are no more agents in the USA government. They would want us to think there are, and start to distrust our own people, sowing discord and confusion where unity is required. The USFO would certainly benefit from that.
That conclusion satisfied a lot of questions. There was only one left. How was I to let my superiors know without letting on that I had heard the tape? And what was that bit at the end, the part in the foreign language?
I reached down and hit the rewind button for a few seconds, then released it and played the tape.
There you have it, Americans. Your Doctor's future, and the future of cloning, hangs in the balance. Think carefully before you act. There will be further instructions once you have made your decision. The male voice stopped.
Then the female voice began.
I listened to it again, trying to make sense of the words. "Panther, do you know what she's saying?"
He didn't answer. I glanced over at him. "Panther?"
A soft snore escaped his lips, and his chest moved up and down rhythmically. He was sound asleep. I didn't have the heart to wake him. He had spent a lot of energy getting me out of there, and even if he was being paid for it, I was grateful. I pocketed the tape, hoping he wouldn't miss it too much.
I stared out the windshield, looking for an end to the highway that stretched straight forward as far as I could see. There were no lights, no cars, and no signs. There wasn't anything anywhere.
I drove for another two and a half hours before my eyelids started to feel like lead. I pulled over and nudged Panther. He came awake with a start.
"What? Is someone following us?"
"No. But a funeral procession will be if you don't take over. I'm ready to fall asleep at the wheel."
He stretched and traded places with me, favoring his leg. I took off my jacket, careful not to jar my right arm, bundled it up and placed it behind my head for a pillow. The constant hum of the engines and gentle motion of the car combined with my exhaustion soon put me to sleep.
* * *
I must have slept for hours, for when I awoke, the first rays of dawn were coloring the sky pink. I yawned and sat up straight. Panther was listening to some music, if you could call it that. It was mainly a lot of drums, screaming, and a bass guitar. I winced. He caught the motion and turned it off.
"I was wondering when you were going to wake up. We're almost there."
"Where?" I stifled another yawn.
"The airport. See?" He pointed at a sign with a depiction of an airplane on it as we drove by. "There's the sign. We'll be there in under a half hour."
I nodded. "Good. What time is it?"
He raised his wrist. "About five. Your flight leaves at seven."
My stomach growled. "Then I'll have time to eat."
Panther snorted. "Don't count on it. This is the dinkiest little airport you've probably ever seen. And the town isn't much, either. If they did have food there, you wouldn't want to eat it, trust me."
I groaned. "Great. Just great." I reached into my pack and fumbled around. Maybe the protein bar was still edible, if not squashed into nothing-ness. My fingers closed on it and I inspected it eagerly. It looked digestible. I peeled back the wrapper and bit into it.
Panther declined the half I offered. "I'll be fine. I'm just seeing you off. You'll be safe during the trip, and I've arranged for someone to be waiting for you. Then you go live the rest of your life and I live mine, never meeting again."
"Sounds like a plan. Are all your jobs this well organized?" I was careful to keep any trace of sarcasm out of my voice.
"You could say that."
We passed the next twenty minutes in silence and occasional idle remarks.
Panther indicated a spot far down the road. "That's it. The airport."
I strained my eyes. "But all I see is a large building. No hangars."
"That is the hangar. There's no airport, really. Just a landing strip, a hangar, and a tiny customs office where you get your baggage checked and arrested if you're carrying contraband."
"Oh."
Minutes later we were driving into the tiny parking lot, just big enough for five cars. I opened the door and carefully stood up, glad to stretch my legs after ten or eleven hours in the car. Panther walked across to the small building that served as luggage check, ticket counter, information booth, customs office, and baggage claim, and asked about my flight.
He came back seconds later wearing a smile. "It seems that you and one other person are the only passengers, and the other is here already. You can leave right now."
I grinned broadly. I wanted to get out of this country and away from mercs and the USFO. Anything to speed that up was welcome news. I followed him to the shack and purchased my ticket with the money I had stashed in a secret pocket in my pack that only I knew about.
As the man handed me my ticket, he asked if I had any baggage to be loaded. I told him I did not.
He gave me a funny look. "Leaving kind of suddenly, aren't you?"
Panther stepped up and covered smoothly. "Her luggage was lost by a different airline."
I breathed a sigh of relief inwardly. The man nodded, apparently satisfied. "Just go to the landing strip. There's only one plane there. That's the one you want. The pilot is waiting, along with the other passenger."
"Thank you," I said, and started in the direction he pointed.
Panther grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the car.
"What do you want?" I asked, a little irritably.
"I don't know who the other passenger is, but better not take chances. You might be recognized. Here," he handed me a pair of dark glasses. "Wear these the entire time and this," he pulled an over-sized jacket out of the back and thrust it at me. "Put this on. No one will know you then."
"Thanks, I think." I accepted the items and donned them. "How's that?"
"Perfect. Totally unrecognizable." He shook my hand. "To be honest, I had my doubts going into this job, you being a—no offense—woman and all. But you far exceeded my expectations and have raised my opinion of women considerably. I wish you luck, Fox."
"Thank you, Panther. And thank you for coming after me. All the best to you, as well."
Then I turned and headed for the airplane. They were waiting for me. The pilot and other passenger were already aboard and the engine was going. I scrambled up the steps and took my seat. I watched Panther wave, get in his car, and drive off. Then the tiny six-seater airplane rumbled down the landing strip and into the air. I was on my way home.
I turned my attention to my surroundings. The airplane was clean enough, if a little dingy and old. The pilot was a graying man about sixty years old or so, of Latino descent. The passenger next to me was a female, but I couldn't see her face as she was staring out the window.
I reclined my seat as far back as it would go and settled in for another long ride. The woman turned to me and asked if I knew how long we would be airborne.
My heart nearly dropped to my stomach and I had to shrug, not trusting my voice. The woman shot me a curious glance, then returned to gazing out the window.
She had been my bodyguard.
I felt sick. She was in the plane, sitting next to me. With any luck, she wouldn't recognize me, but she had the entire trip to figure it out. She had betrayed me once, and would certainly do it again. I was thankful for the jacket and glasses Panther had pressed on me. They would certainly add to my anonymity. I shrank into my seat and figured the best thing to do was sleep as long as I could. That would prevent any conversation from starting up.
It wasn't hard. Even though I had slept in the car, I was still exhausted. Funny how traveling does that to a person. I didn't wake up until the plane began it's descent over the transfer airport.
The next plane I was in was much larger and luxurious by comparison. My former bodyguard had disappeared. I hoped she was on a different flight, going to a different destination, but I had to consider the possibility that she had figured out who I was and was tipping off the USFO again.
The stewardess ran through all the safety procedures, then the plane became airborne. When offered a drink, I accepted gladly. My mouth was parched. I even ate the complimentary peanuts with gusto. The journey lasted about two or three hours.
Around eleven in the morning, my final destination came into view. I had never seen a more welcome sight than that airport. After going through security and customs, I looked around, wondering what to do next. Panther had indicated that someone would be waiting for me, but he hadn't said if it was one of his friends, or a G-man, or what the person looked like. I wandered around for ten minutes before finding a small cafe. I bought and ate a tuna sandwich. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
After that, I began to wonder if I should consider calling someone or hiring a cab with what was left of my cash. It was then that a man, about forty years old and graying at the temples, approached me.
"You may think this question strange, Miss," he said in a pleasant baritone, "but are you by any chance acquainted with a Gray Fox?"
The question was phrased so that any ordinary civilian would assume he was speaking of an animal. I knew then that he had to be my escort. He had the look of a government man about him, too. "Why, yes," I said. He watched me carefully to see if I was joking. "I also know a Panther. Are we speaking of the same Fox?"
"Yes." He looked relieved. "My name is Donavan."
"I think you know my name, already." I took his extended hand and grasped it.
"Yes. You can imagine how glad I am that you are here safe. It took me a while to locate you. Glasses and a large jacket were not included in the description." He laughed.
My hand flew to my mouth. "I forgot I even had them on. But they very literally saved my life. I'll tell you about it later." I removed the jacket, tucked the glasses in the pocket, and folded it over my arm. I looked at Donavan's neatly pressed black suit and white shirt, and was suddenly acutely aware of my rumpled appearance. I tried to smooth my hair back inconspicuously.
Donavan grinned. "Don't worry about how you look. After what you must have been through, your appearance is certainly excusable."
I managed a faint smile. "Thank you."
"My car is right by the curb. If you would care to join me?"
As if I would refuse. "I would be delighted." I followed Donavan out of the airport.
A shiny black Mercury sat idling by the curb. Donavan opened the front passenger door for me, and I slid in beside the driver. He got in the back.
"Okay. We're good to go," he said.
The driver pressed the accelerator and we sped out of the airport grounds. My head fell back against the seat, and my eyes shut. I simply savored the sweet sensation of being safe again.