Page 4 of Klora (Mates of the Mylos #6)

CHAPTER 4

ADRIAN

I stared out the window, trying to memorize the route we were taking. Ty leaned against my arm, his cheek resting half on my polo shirt’s cuff, the other pressed against my bare skin as he gazed out along with me. He was calm, almost eerily so. He had to be thoroughly traumatized and later, he’d break down, and the scars would follow him for the rest of his life, and it was all my fault. If I hadn’t invited the kids from the Fleet as our guests, he wouldn’t be here now.

No, I told myself sternly, these nut jobs would have grabbed one of my students and we’d still be in this big mess. It’s not my fault, it’s not! They are the ones who decided to do something bad!

I frowned, my mind suddenly registering the fact that Ty felt a bit warmer than he probably should. I turned, placing my hand across his forehead. Yep, he definitely felt as if he had a fever. Not a blazing one, but still. Great. Now the poor kid had not only been kidnapped, but was sick.

“You feeling okay?” I asked him, keeping my voice deliberately low.

He nodded, saying nothing as he remembered our captor’s insistence that he remain silent.

“You feel a bit warm. If you start feeling funny at all, let me know. It’s alright if you speak to tell me, okay?”

He gave me a tiny smile, nodding.

“Pull in there so we can pull this wrap off!” one of the men called out to the bus driver, pointing at the wide alley way we were approaching.

The driver made the turn, the cars behind honking.

“Hurry up! They’ve got eyes in the sky!” the angry woman from before shouted as the bus came to a stop and they piled out. Rough hands grabbed at me and the kid, hustling us off the bus.

“Easy with him, he’s just a little kid!” I snapped, reaching for Ty.

“Fine! You keep hold of him, then, and don’t even think of running!”

They shoved us towards the back door of what was probably a bar, given the crates of empty bottles stacked outside.

“Through there,” a new man said from within what turned out to be a store room full of booze and glassware. He pointed towards a door that led to an empty space. Once we were through, the door closed, followed by the sound of a lock being flipped and loud scraping sounds as something was dragged in front of the door. Probably crates of booze, I realized.

“Sit here and shut up. No matter what, do not make a single sound,” ordered the one who seemed to be in charge of the irritable band of racist idiots.

“How long?” the woman who’d ordered me to keep Ty quiet asked him.

He glanced at his watch. “Two more minutes before they should have the wrap off the bus and their shirts changed. Then another fifteen to twenty before our new ride gets here.”

“And if the garbage truck arrives before they do and is still here?”

“Then they will pretend to be making a delivery to the bar, drop off the boxes as planned, and leave and our back up ride will come get us once the truck is gone.”

I had to hand it to them, they’d certainly planned this out pretty well. Unfortunately.

“I’m still worried about the Mylos response,” one of the other men said. “We grabbed one of their kids and his teacher.”

They thought I was the teacher from the Fleet? Oh boy.

“He’s not his teacher,” the woman said, pointing to the embroidered logo on my shirt. “He’s the traitor whose class made this all possible.”

Ty gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I squeezed his in return, offering what reassurance I could.

“Take that off,” she barked at me, gesturing at my lanyard.

I released Ty’s hand in order to use both hands to pull it off over my head. I passed it to her. I had other ID in my wallet, after all. I hoped none of them stopped to remember that. I had a feeling that I at least wouldn't be getting out of this alive unless we were rescued quite soon and I really preferred to have something on me to aid in identifying my body sooner.

She snatched it out of my hand. “We need to get rid of that. Should have gone in the bag with the rest of the stuff.”

I understood then their obsession with the garbage truck. They were tossing the vinyl wrap they’d used on the bus, to what? Reveal the different lettering that was under it? Probably. As well as their fake uniform shirts and lanyards. The sanitation workers would only see regular looking trash bags, probably black, so they couldn’t see what was inside. Just more normal garbage inside a full commercial dumpster that they empty, crush, and take away.

We sat in that room for what felt like forever, when a loud series of knocks sounded on the door we’d come through. It had to have been some sort of signal, as we were urged to our feet and led through the empty space to another room, with another back door that opened to the alley once the ringleader used a key he fished out of his pocket. A dirty white panel van sat outside, the sliding door open.

“Hurry up,” a man standing beside it said. “The Mylos have sent down drop ships. Fuckers are invading over this.”

Ty tugged on my hand, looking up at me with sparkling eyes and a grin. I wanted to be able to tell him that the cavalry had arrived and we’d be saved any moment now, but I couldn't. They had to find us first, and these guys were doing a good job so far of keeping us hidden as they spirited us away.

I stumbled as I was pushed roughly forward towards the van.

“Get the fuck in! What are you standing there for?”

I wanted to rail at them, to shout that my feet didn’t want to move me to their scary kidnapping murderer van. But I didn’t, because for all I knew they’d stuff me inside and kill me in front of the kid right then and there. I needed to stay alive as long as possible, to make sure he had the best chance of surviving this long enough to be found safe and sound and to be able to look after him while his illness progressed. He was warm now and without him getting something to keep his fever at bay, it was bound to climb. I also doubted they’d be kind if he began to vomit, if whatever he had caused his stomach to be upset.

So, instead, I mumbled, “Sorry,” and tugged Ty forward with me. As much as I hated to admit it, getting in right now was possibly our best option. Getting myself beat up or killed certainly wasn’t and there was no way in hell either of us could outrun them if we took off down the alley.

The woman and two men still with us from the original crew got in as well. As the door slammed shut, the man who’d called out to us from the back of the van climbed back into the passenger side front seat as the van began to move.

“White trash bag with the yellow tie handles has your new clothes inside,” he called back. “Strip off and put everything you’re wearing inside it.”

The woman stared at the two of us meaningfully. “You too,” she ordered. “Everything off, including your underwear.”

My eyebrows rose at that. Even our underwear? What the actual fuck? Ty wasn’t questioning anything, it seemed, as he began untying his sneakers and slipping off his socks. I wasn’t going to gain anything by protesting either, so I huffed out an annoyed breath through my nose and began doing the same. The woman turned away as she lifted the hem of her polo shirt. I averted my gaze, not wanting to get an eyeful as no doubt her bra was going to be next and even though all I would be able to see would be her bare back, it felt pervy to look. Not that anyone was giving Ty and me any consideration, but still.

“Here, put these on,”said the guy I’d thought earlier was the leader, as he shoved a pair of gray sweats and a burgundy hooded sweatshirt with only a small embroidered logo of some kind at me. I took them from him, sitting them beside me as I continued to undress, doing my best to hide my genitals with one hand as I slid my briefs off.

The man snorted. “We’re all guys here, except for Louise and she ain’t lookin’,” he jeered as his hand reached to touch his moustache. I gaped as he ripped it off, followed by pulling off what had to have been an expensive wig and a stocking cap thing which was under it. The previously dark brown haired man with the matching mustache was suddenly smooth shaven with a mop of shaggy, dirty blond hair cut into a mullet.

“What?” he challenged me. “Didn’t expect that?” he grinned evilly. “Louise, here is a Hollywood makeup artist. She’s worked in a lot of big movies and shit.”

“Don’t tell him about us!” she snapped, turning around now that she was redressed. She unclipped the bun from the back of her head, tossing it into the white trash bag along with all of our discarded clothing. “The less he knows the better. I don’t need no feds or aliens showing up at my house or work because you had to flap your gums! And no real names!”

“Alright, alright,” the blond groused, grabbing the bag to toss his own fake hair inside along with everything else he’d taken off.

I stared down at my feet. “Do we get shoes?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Louise sighed. “They might not fit, as we guessed what would be average size for a man and a kid around this age.”

She passed me a pair of beat up sneakers that had seen far better days and a pair of tube socks. I took them, not thrilled about wearing someone else’s stinky old shoes, but it was better than being barefoot. If we got the chance to run, we needed to not have to worry about hurting our feet so that a stray pebble or a tiny shard of broken tail light or bottle in the street ended up slowing us down.

“The government realized they aren’t low key invading us now that they’ve actually sent down drop ships full of troops?” Louise asked.

“Nope,” came the reply. “Seems the ships only hold one warrior each, more like personal fighters that can enter the atmosphere. And so far it’s only been a hundred ships. The mayor has been on the news, saying they are here only to help track us down.” He snorted at that. “Like we aren’t the excuse they were waiting for.”

“Well, we’ve covered our tracks too well,” the blond guy who’d taken us said. “Once we get the kid to his new family, they’ll never find him.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got to make it to Cincinnati first to hand him over,” Louise reminded him.

“Oh, we’ll get there. They are looking for a school bus, which is now a daycare bus with totally different people driving it. They have no idea about this van or anything.”

“Put that backpack in the trash bag too,” the guy upfront said, twisting around. “And pass it up to me. We’re going to pull into the mall and toss it into one of the dumpsters there, then skedaddle.”

Ty looked worried for the first time. It was starting to hit him that he might not get home for a very long time. I put my arm around him.

“It’ll be alright,” I promised him.

“For him, yeah,” the man upfront snarked.

“Don’t scare him any worse by threatening me in front of him, please. And can we stop and get him some Tylenol and a drink?”

“He’s sick?”

“It’s probably a stress response,” I lied.

“I’ll grab something when we stop for gas,” the driver snapped.

It would have to do.