there was nothing but flat land covered in dead grass. The air was getting crisper, as if blowing in straight from the top of the distant mountains. Frank bounded ahead of them, scouting for any policemen or roadblocks set up in response to the situation at the prison. Every so often the Squam would show up on the side of the road to wave them along. The next time he showed up, he pointed them toward another highway to avoid a pair of state troopers. Cole drove for another several miles until he caught sight of a billboard advertising a truck stop coming up. Pulling off to the side of the road, he asked, “Have you been able to read Frank?”
“Off and on,” Lambert replied. “That’s why Waylon forced me to stay so close to him for so long. He wanted to know where the rest of them lizard men were hiding.”
“Lizard men?” Brianne squeaked, as if she’d convinced herself the sight of her carjacker had been a bad dream. “Oh God.”
“Can he be trusted?”
Lambert screwed his face up into a distasteful frown, but shrugged and replied, “Hasn’t dicked us over yet.”
Since it had been a while since the last time he saw his scaly partner, Cole kept his eyes on the shoulder until the Squam bounded into view. He reached for the shotgun he’d tucked near his feet, making sure Brianne saw it as he stepped outside. “Stay put,” he told her.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the weapon as she nodded meekly.
“What’s wrong?” Frank asked as he approached the car. His eyes darted back and forth before focusing on a vehicle approaching from the other lane. He stood closer to Cole and lowered his head so anyone in that dark blue Camry couldn’t make out more than the shapes of two men standing beside the hatchback. “We can’t stop in plain sight like this.”
“I know,” Cole replied. “You’re taking this girl into those trees and keeping an eye on her.”
Frank’s brow furrowed. It would have been a menacing expression for anyone his size, but on a man covered in yellow scales with gill flaps along his nose, it was downright chilling. “I won’t kill her.”
“Damn right you won’t. I want you to keep her here while me and Lambert drive ahead to that truck stop. Give us about fifteen minutes to top off the tank and get some supplies and then point her toward the same place. It’s only about a mile walk so she should be able to make it.”
“And what if she doesn’t?” Frank asked. “A pretty girl on her own, walking on a stretch of road, she could get into trouble.”
Suddenly, Cole felt bad for bringing the shotgun along. Not only had Frank proven to be nothing but honorable this far, but he seemed more concerned for Brianne’s welfare than he himself did. “Then stick with her to make sure she gets there safely. You might want to stay out of sight, though. I think you freak her out.”
“I understand.”
Cole opened the car and settled behind the wheel. “Hand her off to Frank.”
Brianne looked outside and practically jumped into Lambert’s arms. “No. No! Please don’t!”
“Get out,” Cole demanded.
When she looked to him, Lambert said, “You heard the man, sweet stuff.”
Somehow, the endearing tone in Lambert’s voice seemed more of a motivator than the shotgun in Cole’s hands. She kicked the door open. Almost immediately Frank was there to take her hand and help her out. Resigned to her fate, Brianne sobbed to herself and shuffled away.
“How far away can you read someone?” Cole asked.
“Don’t know. Depends on if I know them or not.”
“What about her? Will you be able to read her from a mile or two down the road?”
“Hell yes. That girl’s scared shitless, and not too bright anyways. Makes for a good combo.”
“Just let me know if she gets hurt.” Grudgingly, Cole drove away. The next time he checked his rearview mirror, Frank and the blonde were already out of sight.
About two minutes later he pulled up to the farthest pump at the truck stop that had been advertised on the billboard. “Thank Christ,” Lambert said. “I gotta take a piss.”
“Hold it.”
“I can’t!”
“You’re dressed in a freaking gray jumpsuit. You know what that makes you look like? Someone who escaped from a prison!”
“Fine,” Lambert grunted as he unzipped the front of his jumpsuit and rolled down the top portion so it was gathered around his waist to reveal a sweat-stained wife beater similar to the one Frank wore. “Better?”
Cole counted up Brianne’s money. She had thirty-eight bucks and the debit card. He handed the cash to Lambert and said, “Get as much food and water as you can with this. Don’t attract attention. If there’s trouble, run for the highway and I’ll pick you up. Come to think of it, wait until I’m done pumping the gas.”
“You wanna pump somethin’?” the inmate grunted. “Then follow me into the toilet.” With that, he stuffed the cash into his waistband and headed for the main building of the truck stop.
Cole felt a tension in his belly that had nothing to do with the tendrils wrapped around his guts as he slid Brianne’s debit card through the reader on the pump. The fact that he was probably being taped by a security camera didn’t bother him, since stealing a tank of gas barely qualified as legal trouble anymore. He was more concerned that the card would be denied for some reason. It wasn’t, so he topped off the tank. By the time he was done, Lambert still hadn’t shown up. Cole couldn’t see any signs of a commotion through the front window of the truck stop, so he pulled off to another parking space and dug out the phone from where he’d tucked it away.
Before he touched a single button, he reminded himself that it wasn’t his phone. Considering what had happened, it was more than likely that the cops or somebody would be monitoring calls made on Waylon’s line. Even if they didn’t do so now, the records would be there if anyone decided to do it later.
“God damn it,” Cole grumbled as he chucked the phone out the window.
His luck changed for the better when he found three folded ones and about four more dollars in change stuffed into Brianne’s ashtray. Since Lambert still hadn’t reappeared, he walked up to a bank of three pay phones outside the building. Peeking in past a faded cardboard advertisement for Ding Dongs in the window, he saw cash registers, soda machines, snack bars, showers, a metric ton of unhealthy snack foods, and a line for the restrooms. Scraping up enough cash to make a call had been fortunate. Discovering even one of those phones to be in working order was something close to a miracle. He dialed a number from memory and got an answer right away.
“Midwestern Ectological Group, this is Stu.”
“Hey! I was hoping I wouldn’t have to get transferred a hundred times to get ahold of you.”
“Cole? Is that you?”
“Yep.” Before he could say another word, the connection crackled and there were several clicks that made him wonder if he’d been disconnected. Since his legal troubles were extraordinary even for a member of a group with rampant issues at the moment, it could also have been a new MEG policy where Skinners were concerned.
When Stu’s voice returned, it was a little tinnier, but twice as excited. “Can you hear me okay?”
“Yes.”
“I’m using some new equipment that should make certain nobody’s listening in on us.”
“Are your phone lines being tapped?” Cole asked.
“I don’t know, but with all that’s been going on, we figured a little extra security wouldn’t hurt. Where the hell are you, man?”
“Did you hear about what happened in Colorado?”
“Of course I heard!” Stu said. “It’s all over the news! When they’re not showing clips of those two things running away from all that wreckage, they’re comparing it to archive footage from K.C. The video is still coming in. It’s shaky and doesn’t really show a lot as far as those creatures are concerned, but the online footage is impressive. I don’t know who leaked it, but it’s like a damn movie! Cops are shooting and running around a bunch of trashed cars, with the prison walls crumbling behind them and those two big guys just turn into some kind of four- legged bear things and jump completely out of the frame. Epic!”
Cole couldn’t exactly hold it against Stu for getting so excited. Considering the MEG guys spent most of their time sifting through black and white footage of empty rooms or surveillance videos of supposed Bigfoot sightings, actual recordings of werewolves fleeing the scene of a major attack was bigger than a jackpot. It was hitting the cryptozoological Power Ball.
“Is that all the video there was?” Cole asked. “Just those two running away?”
