Page 29 of Healing Creek (Arena Dogs #3)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Grace woke to a pinch on her arm and someone shaking her awake. “Huh?”

“We have to go,” the shadowed face above her whispered. “Come on.”

Grace blinked. She pulled herself into a sitting position, swinging her feet off the bed.

The bed. Where was she? The room was unfamiliar.

The walls were close, some primitive art hung on them.

The man…she could tell it was a man now…

knelt by her feet. He lifted her foot and pushed on one of her boots, then the other.

Her ankles were still wrapped so he had to push hard to get them on.

“You’re in danger here. We have to get you out while we still can.” As he spoke, the medic’s features came together in her foggy mind. He grabbed one of her arms and pulled it across his shoulder, bringing her to her feet in the process.

“Zachary?”

“Quickly,” he urged.

The room was mostly dark. Only a narrow shaft of light came in from the partially open door. Looking into the light made her blink, but she continued forward at his urging. She was leaning heavily on him, still weak and disoriented. Still? From what?

“Stay quiet now.” He pulled the door open farther, blinding her momentarily.

The moment they stepped into the hall, she recognized the base—Haven. But why were they sneaking away and to where?

“Creek?” What had happened. Was he even alive? Why couldn’t she remember?

“He’s waiting for us. Come on,” he whispered again.

Creek was waiting. That meant he was okay. She hurried her steps. As she became steadier on her feet, Zachary released her arm from around his shoulder and took her hand instead. He dragged her along, pulling her down flights of stairs that seemed to go on endlessly.

Her feet felt too heavy. She tripped, but he caught her. That was kind of him. He was helping her. But why? Why were they in such a hurry.

“Zachary,” she tried again.

“Shh, this way.” He pulled her toward a door, punched a code on a keypad, then they were through.

They were in a dark corridor, illuminated only by softly glowing lights at their feet.

It seemed just wide enough for two with a ceiling not far above their heads.

The walls were bare stone. The pathway went on endlessly and turned too often for her to keep her bearings.

She couldn’t think clearly. Her head had begun to pound at her temples.

“Where…are we going?” The first word was loud in the closeness, and she remembered to whisper after that.

“It’s not far now. Almost there.”

The medic wasn’t whispering anymore, so they must be safer now that they had entered this dark labyrinth. A sturdy alloy door appeared before them, materializing out of the gloom. The medic flipped several latches, then leaned on the door, pushing as if it weighed a ton.

All at once, the door gave way and light poured in.

Golden, green, dappled light. It was everywhere, filtering through the leaves and branches and trees.

She stepped out into the jungle and something tangled around her boot.

A vine. She was falling. The ground came up to meet her and pain radiated through her spine.

From her seat on the jungle floor, she looked around and saw only Zachary. She looked up into his frustrated face.

“We’re not meeting Creek, are we?”

Zachary tried to convince Grace that they were still on their way to Creek. She followed him into the jungle mostly because she wanted to believe it. That and because the door had shut behind them and there was no way to open it from the outside.

They followed a narrow path that turned sharply and opened into a small clearing in the dense vegetation.

A terrain basher sat in the scattered sunlight.

She recognized the two-seater ground transport, known for its climbing ability, from a remote research outpost she’d visited with her father when she was a teenager.

She’d hoped it would be exciting, but her father had stuck to well established trails…

boring. She looked around and saw no such trails here.

Just a narrow strip of crushed underbrush leading down from above.

Funny how bashing through the jungle along the steep ravine walls didn’t sound exciting at all now.

Zachary opened the back storage and Grace spotted a travel bag strapped into the compartment.

He pulled another small bag from his shoulder and worked it under the straps.

The growing knot in Grace’s stomach worsened as he slammed it shut.

Birds startled out of the trees at the noise.

She looked up through the small break in the overhead canopy and realized they had to be far down in the ravine.

She couldn’t think of any good reason except—If there was an attack, would they be the only ones leaving?

Hadn’t Eve and Max told them the base was designed so they could escape into the jungle.

“Was the base attacked?”

“What? No.” Zachary replied absently, his mind clearly on prepping the basher for their trip.

She looked up again, trying to gauge how far down the ravine they were, but the world spun. She must still be lightheaded from donating so much blood to heal Creek.

Zachary had the door to the basher open and something in his hand. “Come on, Grace. Time to go.”

Was her vision blurry. Why couldn’t she see clearly what was in his hand?

“Where are we meeting Creek?”

“At the ship,” he said.

“What ship?”

“Come on, Grace. Time for questions later when we’re underway.” His voice was patronizing and agitated.

Fear shot through her like lightening. Her heart raced, beating so hard she heard it in her ears.

She could barely hear the jungle. This wasn’t right.

Grace ran into the dense vegetation. At least she tried.

Roots and vines snagged her steps. Wide green leaves and moss-covered branches beat at her arms as she batted them away. Zachary cursed.

The sound of branches snapping and his body smacking against the foliage haunted her. He shoved her and she lost her footing. She flailed helplessly as the ground zoomed toward her and she slammed into it face first.

A tree root caught her in the chest, stealing her breath. Pain exploded in her cheek.

Then he was dragging her back to her feet and shoving her back to the basher.

She all but fell into the passenger seat, hitting an elbow on the door frame.

She was still rattled and foggy when he slipped the plasmold restraints onto her wrists, pushed and shoved until she was in the safety harness, and connected the buckle.

“It’s the suppressant,” he explained. “It impairs cognitive and motor functions without inducing an unconscious state. But you would have known that if you were able to think clearly.” He was squatting beside her in the open door, smiling up at her.

“Why?” She attempted to touch her aching cheek with one hand but couldn’t manage it.

“I expect you’re also still weak from the transfusion. You gave up a lot of blood. As soon as you’re more coordinated, I’ve got some broth and juice for you.”

“No. Why are you doing this?” Speaking aggravated the pain in her cheek and she winced. She pressed her fingertips against her thigh and tapped.

“Best intentions. But that is a long story.” With that he slammed the door shut and jogged around to the driver’s side where he climbed into his seat and strapped in.

With the touch of a button the engine rumbled to life.

The whole vehicle shook with the power of it.

The basher lurched forward, crushing the jungle under the powerful front end.

The going was easier than she expected from her first glance around them.

As her mind started to clear she realized they were on an overgrown path.

Lots of new vegetation but no major obstacles.

The basher bounced and rocked as it scaled these lesser obstructions. The motion made her stomach churn.

After the first thirty minutes the terrain leveled out and the motion became less jarring.

They must be crossing the ravine floor. There was no sign of a path here but the vehicle didn’t seem to need one.

Her eyes grew heavy and she battled to stay alert.

A loud crunch and a lurching motion jarred her awake.

They were going up the opposite side of the ravine.

How long had she been out. Her head felt clearer.

“Can I have that broth now?” She shouted to be heard.

“In the compartment by your knees.”

She found it and worked within the limits of the restraints to get it out and flip open the sip-top.

“You said you have good intentions. Can’t you tell me where you’re taking me?”

“I came here from Roma with Eve, you know.” He spoke loudly to be heard over the basher’s engine. “I was happy to leave at the time. All the exciting work was coming to an end and Eve’s mother was a real bitch to work for.” He laughed. “But there are four other partners I can work for.”

He was taking her to Roma. The confirmation rattled her.

Zachary chuckled again. “You have to admit, there is some beauty in letting their money fund the work to solve the genetic problem. Once it’s solved, I’ll make the research available to everyone. It doesn’t serve anyone to let the Arena Dogs just dwindle down to a few births a year.”

He must have decided Samantha’s pregnancy was an anomaly. But somehow he thought she was the key to correcting the genetic flaws in the Arena Dogs’ reproduction.

“I tested your blood while you were unconscious. Pretty miraculous that you’re still alive. If the medi-bots in your blood can do that they’ll be able to help the Dogs. I’m sure of it.”

“They don’t rewrite genetic code,” she shouted to be heard. “The best they could do is find a work-around.”

“Yes, but we can take it from there. That’s the beauty of medical science. You should know that. But then you aren’t the smartest of your parents’ offspring, are you?”

“Which of the Roma houses are you working for?” She needed to keep him talking. Find out what she could from him.

“Owens has your sister, and he already has a bounty on you, so he’s my first choice. We’ll have to see.”

“You haven’t been working for Roma?”

“No.” He seemed happy to answer her questions. His confidence was discouraging.

“Have you been in touch with Owens yet?”

“Not yet. Communications are monitored at Haven. No way to get a signal out of there.”

Did anyone know she was missing? “They won’t let you just take me.”

“No one even knows we’re gone.”

“How was Creek doing?” If he’d harmed him…of course he had. Creek wouldn’t have just fallen for no reason. Damn. She never should have let them take her out of the medical center.

“Your medi-bots seemed to be healing him. Their programming must be decades ahead of anything commercially available.”

Creek was going to live and that meant he would come for her.

She just had to give him time. Time to heal.

Time to recover. She thought about their sparring matches and his lessons about the advantage of surprise.

The basher was climbing up a particularly steep section of the ravine.

She reached for the closest steering lever and pulled with all her strength.