Michael (The Airel Saga, Book 2) - By Aaron Patterson Page 0,56

were.”

He laughed.

“And, oh! Don’t think it was me who called them on. It wasn’t me. I’m so not the dirty girl.”

“I never said that—”

“I’ll just tell you this: we’ve gotta be careful. Very careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that the most dangerous enemy is the one you don’t see coming. The one that’s on the inside.” She stood, moved closer, and crouched before him, grasping his shoulders. “Michael, be on your guard. Always vigilant.”

“Ellie, just say what you mean.”

She looked at him, sizing him up. “I mean…everyone’s got an axe to grind, mate. Not everyone will be totally straightforward with you at all times.”

“And?”

“Look, I know something’s cockeyed here and I’ve got half an idea. That just means I’d better not go sharing it and polluting the pool. But I will say…that you, Mr. Alexander…need to be very careful. With everyone.”

A torrent of evil thoughts ran through Michael’s head, but he would not give voice to them. Not until he had more information. And if there was anything from which the ancient part of his mind benefitted, it was perspective.

CHAPTER XII

ELLIE’S PHONE SOUNDED OFF: In one mile, turn right on Route 19. Your destination will be on your right. She looked at its GPS display and said, “We’d better get ready. This train won’t stop for us.”

Michael looked at her and the phone quizzically.

“All the phones I use go through testing before I trust them,” she said. “They’re re-routed so many times they’re untraceable.”

“I’ve been trying to stay off mine. There’s probably nothing more dangerous to a wanted man than a smartphone.”

“True. Good thing, then. Cuz I’m not a man.” She smiled at him.

He would have considered it flirtatious if he didn’t know better. “You get Kim. I’ll wake Airel.”

They parted ways. Michael scrambled down from the tops of the crates to where he had left Airel, assuming Ellie would be careful waking Kim. She might prove to be like a cornered cat; a real handful. He hoped her attitude would improve with some time spent in a hot shower and a real bed. He knew that’s what he needed most, too, and he felt bad for her. For all of them, really.

He squeezed through the narrow space between the wall of the boxcar and the last row of crates, expecting to find Airel.

But she wasn’t there. Where did she go?

Then from the opposite end of the boxcar, he heard a sound that made his heart sink. A whimper. Some kind of exclamation. A thud or a slam.

As fast as he could, he made his way through the maze of crates toward the scuffle, fearing the worst. He could hear words, though they were hard to make out.

Give it? Was that it? Or was it “give it up?” He couldn’t tell. He did hear someone say, “No,” but he wasn’t sure who. Great, I get to referee three cranky ladies. As if I didn’t have my own problems. He felt the anger rising and he didn’t stop it.

He closed the distance, balling up his fists as he walked, turning his shoulders to the side as he slid through a narrow gap. In the back of his mind it occurred to him that there might be a reason for him to feel so angry suddenly…a reason beyond his fatigue…but it didn’t surface. He wanted to taste the rage and let it out, anyway; he had had it with this whole operation, these little hens pecking away at petty nonsense.

As he rounded the final corner, he beheld them: three girls fighting over a bag. Kim’s duffel. They were all pulling a different strap in a different direction. He roared at them, “HEY,” slamming his fist into a crate. “CUT IT OUT!”

All three jumped in surprise, looking momentarily afraid. It stopped the bickering, at least, and it tasted good to him.

“This is our stop,” he tried to explain, his eyes dark. “And if we miss it, we’ll be walking for a long, long time.” He began to get the shakes as adrenaline flooded his veins. “Anyone up for that?”

No response.

“I didn’t think so. Kim,” he addressed her directly, “get your bag and let’s get going, already.”

They stood like deer in the headlights for a moment.

“NOW!” he shouted at them, surprising even himself at the measure of his anger.

They all moved quickly, following him toward the side of the boxcar and the door.

“I don’t know and I don’t want to know right now,” he tried to explain to them as he opened the sliding

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