Mari Mancusi - Scorched

She scanned the small room, desperate for an escape route, but realized there was no window and she was, for all intents and purposes, trapped. Outside, she heard the door bell’s jangle; Caleb was now in the building. She slipped into the far stall and yanked the door shut behind her, sitting on the toilet with her feet up, trying to still her erratic pulse.

Maybe he was just here to order a cup of coffee to go.

Yeah, right.

A moment later, the bathroom door burst open. “Trinity!” he called. “Get out here now!” She heard a crash and realized he’d kicked open door number one. Followed quickly by door number two. How many stalls were there in this bathroom? Three? Four?

“I know you’re in here!”

BANG! Door number three. She stifled a squeak of fear, not knowing why she bothered. He’d find her in a—

BANG! The door burst inward and she found herself face-to-face with her enemy. He gave her a disappointed look. “You’re really going to have to learn at some point that I’m not the bad guy,” he muttered as he grabbed her roughly by the arm and yanked her off the toilet seat. She struggled in protest until he pulled out a small pistol that looked just like Connor’s laser one—and pressed it against her back. Her mind flashed to the man at the museum, his head exploding in a burst of green goo, and she reluctantly stopped fighting.

“That’s better,” he soothed. “Now let’s go.” He gestured toward the bathroom door. “Ladies first.”

Somehow, some way, she managed to force her feet to cooperate and shuffle forward toward the bathroom’s exit. When she stepped back into the diner, the pay phone started ringing. She glanced at it longingly. Caitlin …

Caleb stiffened, turning to Trin, a horrified look of realization on his face.

“You didn’t,” he whispered accusingly.

“What if I did?” she demanded, somehow finding her voice. “Does that spoil your little kidnapping plan?” She forced herself not to look over at the phone, even though every fiber in her being wanted to dive across the room to answer it. She realized all the other diners had cleared out, probably after seeing Caleb’s gun, and only Mary remained, a frightened but determined look on her face. The waitress started toward Caleb.

“Look here, you leave that girl alone!” she cried in a voice bordering on hysteria. Trin’s eyes misted as the waitress came to her defense. At the same time she wished the woman would just turn and run out the front door—out of danger.

“You don’t understand,” Caleb cried, sounding exasperated. “I’m trying to save her life!”

Blue lights flashed through the diner’s windows as two cop cars whipped into the parking lot. Caleb let out a frustrated breath. “You really are determined to make my job as difficult as possible, aren’t you?” he groaned, shaking his head. He turned to Mary. “Is there a back door?”

“Like I’d tell you!” she shot back as the police officers entered through the front. The bells jingled merrily, the sound jarring with the current situation.

“Mary, what seems to be the—”

Before they could finish their question, Caleb had the waitress by the ponytail, yanking her back. Mary screamed in protest as he dragged her in front of Trin, his laser gun pressed against her head. “Get back!” he screamed at the cops, who were now fumbling uselessly for their own weapons. “Drop your guns. On the floor. Or I’ll kill her. I swear to God!”

The small-town cops, looking confused and frightened, obliged, dropping their firearms and crawling down to the diner’s black and white tiled floor.

“Please don’t kill me,” Mary squeaked. “I have kids at home. Three little girls.”

“Let her go!” Trin added, horrified by the fact she’d managed to drag a poor innocent mother into this whole mess. “I’ll go with you. Whatever you want. Just let her go.”

He ignored her. “Just be a good girl,” Trin heard him whisper to Mary, “and lead us to the back door.” Raising his voice, he added, “Stay still and count to a hundred. Or I’ll kill her!”

As the cops began to count, the three of them backed through the kitchen and out the rear door. Trinity looked around, wondering if she should make a run for it. But Caleb still had the gun pinned on Mary, and she wasn’t about to let the kindly waitress get hurt or killed on her account.

“Let her go!” she tried again instead, turning to Caleb with pleading eyes. “I’m the one you want, not her.”

To her surprise, he nodded, releasing Mary. The waitress fell to the ground, crying out as her bare knees scraped against concrete.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb said, looking surprisingly remorseful as he held out a hand to help the waitress to her feet. Mary refused his assistance, shooting him a death look as she scrambled up on her own. Her legs were cut and bleeding, her hair had come loose from its ponytail. Caleb sighed and dropped his hand. “Fine. Have it your way,” he said with a shrug. Then he turned to Trinity, his face hard and cold.

“Now, if you’re done messing around,” he said, “we’re late for our date with the Dracken.”

“You need to turn left at that stop sign up ahead,” Caleb instructed from the passenger seat, after consulting his transcriber. “We’ll be taking that road for the next hour or two.”

Trinity put on her blinker, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable as the cracked vinyl seats pinched at her thighs. Caleb had stolen the old Ford pickup from the driveway of a darkened house near the diner and insisted she drive, making her wonder if cars were as extinct as airplanes in a post-dragon-apocalypse world. Though he had seemed pretty skilled on his motorcycle…

“And slow down!” he added, cradling the egg protectively in his arms as she stepped on the gas.

Damn. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t register her sudden burst of speed—a desperate attempt to get a traffic cop to notice them and pull them over. She half wondered if she should just plow into the SUV ahead of her—or slam into a guardrail even—giving herself a chance to make a run for it. That sort of thing always worked great in the movies. But in real life, she feared, it might just land her with a broken leg…or worse.

“It probably would,” Caleb agreed.

Startled, she snapped her head in his direction. “What?”

“Crashing the car like that. It’d probably kill you. Or at least hurt really bad. Definitely not a good idea.”

She turned back to the road, gritting her teeth. “How did you know what I was thinking?” she asked finally, against her better judgment. She didn’t want to engage him in another conversation, listen to his lies about “rescuing her” at gunpoint.

He looked surprised at the question. “I have the gift,” he replied as if it were the most obvious explanation ever.

“ The gift ?” she repeated. “What gift?”

“ The gift,” he emphasized. “The one that gives us the spark.”

“Yeah. Not really clearing things up.”

Caleb sighed. “Didn’t my brother tell you anything?” he muttered, shaking his head. Then he turned to her. “There are certain people in this world who are born with something special inside of them, a certain energy. We call it the spark. Those who are born with this spark can do amazing things. Some can sense emotion. Some can hear other people’s thoughts. A few can go one step further and actually bend people’s wills. They call that pushing. My brother can push. Which is one reason you have to be careful around him. You never know what he might try to get you to believe.”

He paused, glancing over at her for her reaction, then continued, “Think about it. How else would I have been able to find you last night? Or at the diner this morning? I simply followed your fear and it led me straight to you.”