She slipped the gun back into its concealed holster and looked out the window. They were close to Chicago. Farmlands on the outskirts of the city stretched for kilometers and kilometers. Yellowed stalks, left over from harvesting, stuck out from the rich soil. Soon, they would pass the dairy farms where Holstein cattle grazed lazily in the pastures, then buildings would dominate the landscape, architectural monuments of brick, steel, and glass.
She checked her watch. Twenty more minutes. A car would be ready at the station, and she and the prisoner would be picked up and taken straight to The Center.
She’d be home.
37
A white farmhouse materialized in the wavering distance on the other side of the plowed field. The two days of travel had been fast and nonstop, and Ellyssa was beyond exhausted. Hunger knotted her stomach and her muscles ached. Not the good type of ache born from physical activity, but the sort that came just before collapse.
If she felt this way, she could only imagine how Woody must be feeling. He should be faring far worse than she, but she’d never know it by looking at him. Through the whole journey, he’d kept pace with her. Even now, as she crept behind him in the ditch where tall grass tickled her skin and the scent of earth reached her nose, his steps were sure and strong, and his movements were lithe, like a cat.
Maybe she gave herself too much credit for being physically superior.
Woody stopped and pointed. “There it is,” he said, his words drawn out from lack of sleep.
The corner of her mouth pulled back skeptically.
“I promise they can be trusted.”
“I understand.” Ellyssa said the words, but she had trouble believing them. Every fiber of her being was apprehensive of contacting people living in society, even though Woody had assured her they were old friends, and very dependable. It’d been hard enough to trust her adoptive family, but to give that trust to complete strangers who lived within society was on a whole different scale.
She looked up at the sky, where the sun loomed lazily in the eastern sky. “It’s almost mid-morning.”
“They’ll get us to the train on time. This isn’t their first rodeo.”
Ellyssa wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.
Keeping within the overgrowth, they scurried around the harvested field to the end of the wooden fence and down into a ditch. Down the way and across the street stood the farmhouse. Several small mounds of orange and red leaves dotted the front yard.
Hunkered down in the ditch where long blades of brown grass hid his head, Woody faced Ellyssa. Sweat and grime glued leaves and grass to his hair, and dirt smudged his cheek and chin.
“Sarah and Tim are old, but they’ve been part of our extended family for years. As a matter of fact, Tim’s parents had helped some of the first Renegades.”
“Are you sure they can get us to the train by one?”
Woody smiled. “No problem. After all, he manages the only delivery service in Warrensburg. He’s our main source of supplies.” He reached out and squeezed her hand before spinning around and walking duck-like toward the drainage sluice.
Ellyssa wished her confidence matched Woody’s, but it didn’t. Nothing had felt right since Rein’s capture, as if her whole world hung by a frayed string. If it broke, so would she. Blowing out pent-up air, she mimicked Woody’s waddling steps.
At the end of the ditch, Woody paused, looked left and right, and then, without one word of warning, shot out of the trench, like a rabbit, and sprinted across the street, behind some bushes, and to the side of the house. Ellyssa moved on his heels.
Woody stopped at a flat piece of metal that served as a cellar door. He opened it and gestured for Ellyssa to go first. She hesitated, as every instinct told her not to descend. Not to trust.
Once again, her old self squirmed to break free. For Rein, for her new life, she ignored that old voice’s warning. She descended seven rickety steps onto a stone floor landing. Cool musty air greeted her. Woody came down behind her, shutting the door with a muffled thud.
“I promise, it’s fine,” he stated, apparently sensing her mood.
He brushed by her; a second later, an overhead light cast a soft white glow. Despite the odor, the cellar was neat and well-maintained, free of cobwebs and dust.
Woody grabbed her hand and herded her up another set of stairs. He opened the door into a spotless kitchen. Bright yellow, like sunshine, trimmed the walls and cabinets, and a tablecloth with pictures of sunflowers and yellow lace covered a dinette. Pictures of fruit and vegetables hung from hooks, and knickknacks covered every available shelf. French doors opened into another living space where muffled voices, probably from a television, whispered softly.
“Who’s there?” called a female from the adjoining room, followed by a grunt as if she was struggling to stand.
The voice was old, but smooth and cheerful, and surprisingly without fear. Ellyssa couldn’t image anyone being so calm on hearing someone in their house. She, herself, would’ve attacked immediately and asked questions later.
Ellyssa edged into the shadows of the stairwell with thoughts of leaving, but Woody pulled her into the kitchen. He tossed her a reassuring smile.
A frail, thin female, barely taller than a teenager, shuffled into the kitchen, wearing a floral-print dress. Ellyssa thought a good stiff wind would toss her into the air. Her hair was the color of rain clouds, and wrinkles folded her skin. Her eyes widened when she recognized Woody, revealing a blue that defied her age, and a huge smile spread across her face.
“Woody!” the older female exclaimed. She shuffled over to him, her arms held out expectantly.
“Sarah, it’s so nice to see you,” Woody said as he hugged her. When he pulled away, he extended his hand toward Ellyssa. “This is my friend, Ellyssa.”
“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
Ellyssa felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
“And shy, too.” Sarah held her arms open. “Any friend of Woody’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she pulled Ellyssa into a hug.
Surprised at the reception, and unsure how to respond to Sarah’s unquestioning acceptance, Ellyssa’s arms hung limp at her sides. She glanced at Woody, who slyly smiled and shook his head.
“Now,” Sarah said, stepping back, “what can I do for you two?”
“We need to get on the train,” answered Woody.
“Which one?”
“This afternoon.”
“Oh.” She glanced at a clock hanging above a buffet. “That’s cutting it close.”
“But you can do it?”
“Have we failed any of you yet? I just need to get Tim.” Sarah opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of chicken and some potatoes. “I bet you’re hungry.”
At the sight of the food, Ellyssa’s stomach quivered in anticipation, but they didn’t have time for personal comfort. She placed her hand over her midsection to suppress the rumbling. “Not to be rude, but shouldn’t we be making preparations?”
“There is always time to eat.” Sarah placed the containers on the table and eyed Ellyssa. “You need to clean up a little, though.” She pointed to Woody. “You, too. There are fresh clothes in the linen closet. Change.”
He held his hands up in defeat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“But…” Ellyssa started to protest.
Woody cut her off. “No use in arguing. We won’t win.”
“He’s right. So both of you…scoot. I’ll get Tim.”
