Лори Касс - Gone With The Whisker

“Good question,” Courtney said. “How about later on today?”

“Let’s do it after dark.”

“Ooo, romantic.” She laughed. “I like the way you think.”

And then they were gone.

Chapter 21

They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” Kate asked.

I tried to moisten my dry lips. Didn’t accomplish the goal. “They want to. But it’s not going to happen.”

“No?”

The hope in her voice made me want to weep and comfort her at the same time.

She sighed. “Really? And how, exactly, are you going to keep that from happening?”

I found myself, of all things, smiling. This was the obstreperous Kate I knew and loved. “First, let’s work on your use of pronouns.”

“What are you talking about?”

She sounded annoyed. On a normal day, I would have become annoyed in return, which would have been obvious, and her annoyance would have increased, and the escalation would have gone on until one of us (Kate) stomped away in a sulk. Today, however, things were different. The fact that she had the gumption to be alert and critical when a pair of stone-cold killers were intent on ending our lives was a sure indication she’d have the courage to take action when needed.

“I’m saying the two of us need to come up with a plan.”

“Me? What makes you think I can do anything?”

Well, almost sure.

I opened my mouth to give her words of wisdom, a message that would give her confidence, a nugget of gold to help her get through the next hours, but she wasn’t done talking.

“You didn’t want me to say anything to that Luke. You didn’t want me to run. You didn’t want me to do a thing back then when our hands were untied and we were standing up, but here we are stuck and about to get shot to death, and now is when you want to do something? Now?”

And back to being sure. “Kate, my dear sweet niece. I wanted you to keep quiet and not do anything because right then it wasn’t going to help.”

“I could have—”

“No,” I interrupted, “you couldn’t. Neither one of us could have.”

“But they say getting away from kidnappers before you’re moved to another location is important. That running away is your best defense. If you’d run in the opposite direction I did, we would have split them up and I bet one of us would have gotten away, called nine-one-one, and by this time Those Two”—she made the phrase a capitalized one—“would have been in handcuffs. Why didn’t you run?”

Because that would have meant leaving her behind, and there was no way I would have done that. “You’re missing one pertinent point,” I said. “Luke was holding a gun. I doubt either one of us is fast enough to outrun a bullet.”

“It’s not like on TV,” she argued. “Unless he was an awesome shot, which kind of seems unlikely, he wouldn’t have been able to hit us once we got running.”

“Unlikely, yes. Because . . .” I stopped, not wanting to say the words out loud.

“Because what?”

I shut my eyes briefly, saw how the situation could have spun out, then shook my head against the images and opened my eyes. Looking at packed earth was far more soothing than what I’d just pictured. “Because,” I said, “Luke Cagan is a man, and a fit young one at that.” Kate started to say something, but I talked over the top of her.

“Those TV shows and movies with heroines kicking butt and taking the names of men half again their size are fantasy,” I said. “The only real exception is a highly trained female against an out-of-shape couch potato. Men are bigger and stronger and faster and no indignant proclamations of equality are going to change that.”

“So what are you suggesting? That we lie here like sitting ducks and wait to be murdered?”

I rolled my eyes. “What, you think direct attacks and quiet acceptance are the only two choices?”

“At least I tried something,” she said sulkily. “I don’t hear you coming up with any ideas. All those college degrees and you’re lying here next to a kid who doesn’t even have a high school diploma. Guess you’re not really any smarter than I am, are you?”

Oh, for crying out loud. “What makes you think—” I forced myself to stop. This was not the time to deal with Kate’s misinterpretation of everything I’d ever said to her.

“We’ll talk about that later,” I said. “What we need to do now is untie ourselves.”

“Really?” she asked, sarcasm dripping off the syllables in great big glops. “Wish I’d thought of that.”

“Then it’s time to catch up. Take a look over there.” And before she could make a snide comment about not knowing where “there” was, I added, “In the corner closest to your head, someone nailed up a bunch of old license plates.” I felt her twist around to see.

“Yeah, what about them?”

“Take a close look. What do you see?”

“A bunch of old license plates.”

Patience, I told myself. You must maintain patience. “How are the license plates hanging on the wall?”

“Nails?” She paused. “I guess?”

“Don’t guess,” I said. “Look harder.”

“It’s dark in here. I can’t see.”

Patience . “Then let’s move closer.”

“We’re tied together,” she reminded me, because obviously I must have forgotten. “We can’t move, right?”

“Courtney and Luke assume we can’t move. But I think we can.” At least I hoped we could. Because if we couldn’t, there wasn’t a chance we’d get out of this alive. “No, I know we can. All we have to do is figure out a way.”

“How?” she asked sarcastically. “Wriggle like a couple of worms?”

“If that works, sure.”

“Seriously, Aunt Minnie?”

That’s when I heard the despair lurking underneath her question. She was scared, and it was my fault. Which meant I had to fix this. “Yes,” I said. “Let’s be a couple of worms. Come on.”

So we wriggled. And rolled. And grunting with the effort, squirmed. I used every muscle with which I was familiar and many whose names I hadn’t thought about since high school physiology class. Our body parts bumped against each other in awkward and occasionally painful ways, and it wasn’t long before sweat was dripping down my face.

This, I found, was amazingly annoying when you couldn’t wipe it off, and I added it to the long mental tally I was making of Reasons to Imprison Courtney and Luke, but we kept going, heaving and wheezing with the effort. And an eternity later, we weren’t any closer to our goal than when we’d started.

“This. Isn’t. Working,” I gasped out and stopped.

“No, I think it is.” Kate continued to move, playing inchworm to the slug I’d suddenly become. “Honest, Aunt Minnie. I’m super sure we’ve moved.”

I didn’t think she was right, but since I’d always been spatially challenged, I was willing to believe her. Plus, what was the alternative?

“Okay, then.” I summoned a breath. “Let’s keep at it.”

And we did. And after a few more heaves and ho’s, I realized we were actually moving. Not very fast or very far, but moving. “Kate,” I said, “you’re right. When we do this”—I leaned my shoulder and feet into the floor—“we move a teensy bit.” Only a fraction of an inch, because we were tied together so tight I wasn’t sure our circulation systems would ever be the same, but still. “See? Feet and shoulder, then slide.”

“Yeah, I get it. And if we did it at the same time?”

“Great idea. On three, then. One, two . . . oof! One, two . . . oof!”

The hamstrung Hamiltons slowly, oh so slowly, made their way across the packed dirt floor, getting closer and closer to their goal. “Need. A. Rest,” I panted out. “Can you . . . see?”