Indestructible Page 6

If they were captured, she’d be better off not knowing too much about his self-healing ability. “When we get to the cabin, I’ll tell you everything.”

  “How much farther?”

  “Pierre is about halfway.” They’d already entered the city limits. Traffic was heavier. The possibility of having his enemies find them was greater. “Tell me about Helga.”

  “Carved from pine and varnished. Helga got pretty scratched up over the years. She had on a dirndl-type dress. Her hair was parted in the middle, and there was a worn spot on the top of her head where we patted her for luck. Big, googly eyes and a giant smile. Only three teeth, though. Huge feet with four toes. And she was holding a daisy.”

  He easily imagined young Melinda patting the family troll for luck. “Where’s Helga now?”

  “After Grandma died, Mom took her.” Her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “Maybe Helga will come home with me. To bring good luck to the baby.”

  Drew had no experience with family traditions, but he liked the idea of a troll being passed down through the generations. “Is there some kind of ritual to call for Helga’s good luck?”

  “Not really. She just watches over us like a guardian angel.” She turned toward him. “Why are you asking? Is there a special need for luck?”

  “There are a limited number of bridges crossing the Missouri. If people are watching for us, they’ll be at one of these points.”

  “But probably at Interstate 90.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.”

  The odds were with them, but he was cautious as he merged into the lanes of cars and trucks approaching the heavy girders of the bridge.

  “The mighty Missouri,” she said as she peered through the window. “I always think of crossing a bridge as a symbolic change. My life is taking a different course.”

  As was his. Her pregnancy affected them both. He was going to be a father. No turning back.

  On the opposite side of the bridge, he breathed more easily. Everything seemed to be going according to his carefully laid plans. After they made a stop at the garage he’d rented outside Pierre, they’d be untrackable.

  At the outskirts of the town, Melinda spoke up. “Did you see the motorcycle? The rider had a black helmet with lightning bolts. Just like the guy in Rapid City.”

  Drew couldn’t believe they’d been followed. He’d taken back roads, doubled back and circled around. Had the motorcyclist been waiting for them here? How had he known their route? “It can’t be the same guy.”

  “He’s right behind us.”

  At the corner, Drew turned left and slowed, hoping the motorcycle would stay on the main road.

  No such luck. The Harley roared as he came close to Drew’s bumper.

  They were within a couple of miles of the garage. Too close to fail. Drew hit the gas. Using every trick he learned from Grand Prix racing, he darted from one street to the next until they were in open countryside.

  He raced toward a crossroads with a gas station on one corner. The motorcycle still followed.

  “Slow down,” Melinda yelled.

  From the gas station, a black sedan shot toward the intersection. If Drew continued to go forward, he’d be trapped between the motorcycle and the sedan with no room to escape.

  He cranked the steering wheel and hit the brakes. They went into a controlled spin.

  The sedan swung toward them.

  They were hit.

  The impact crushed the driver’s side of the SUV.

  Chapter Seven

  Melinda’s air bag exploded, throwing her backward against the seat. She was pinned for a few seconds, not long enough for her whole life to flash before her eyes. But she saw her grandma. And Helga the troll. And a child, a little boy who looked like Drew. Their child.

  Coughing and flailing desperately, she fought her way free from the air bag. Her ears still rang with the horrible, grinding crash of metal against metal.

  “Drew,” she shouted. “Drew, are you—”

  His air bag hadn’t deployed. He was slumped over the steering wheel. The collar of his white shirt was drenched with blood from a head wound. His blue sweater was stained. So much blood! He wasn’t moving.

  Was he dead? Her heart plummeted. No, this can’t be. “Drew, wake up.”

  Through his shattered window, she saw the car that hit them. The hood had popped open. The engine spewed white smoke.

  She batted the air bag out of the way. Through the windshield, she saw the motorcycle wheel around and park in front of them. The rider in the lightning-bolt helmet dismounted. He strode toward them.

  Drew jolted upright in his seat. He growled, “Are you all right?”

  “Thank God, you’re alive.”

  “And I mean to stay that way.”

  He twisted the key in the ignition, and she heard their engine start up. The main impact of the crash had been on the driver’s-side door. Their car was drivable.

  Though it was obvious that Drew was in pain, he grasped the steering wheel with his right hand. They lurched forward, headed directly toward the man who had been on the motorcycle.

  Drew’s intention was clear. He meant to run this man down. To kill him before he killed them.

  Though she didn’t want to watch, she couldn’t look away. At the last instant, the motorcycle man, still wearing his helmet, leaped out of the way.

  Drew kept going. He sideswiped the motorcycle, taking it out of commission.

  Digging under the air bag, she found her purse. She took out her cell phone and turned it on.

  “What are you doing?” Drew asked.

  “Calling the police.”

  “Don’t.”

  Blood streaked down his forehead. It was a miracle that he was even conscious. “You need to go to a hospital. We need help.”

  “Let me do this my way.”

  Her fingers clenched on the cell phone, itching to punch in three easy numbers. Nine-one-one. But he didn’t want to involve the police, and she was learning to trust his judgment. She turned it back off and let the phone slip back into her purse.

  “At least let me drive,” she said. “You’re injured.”

  “Later. We’re almost there.”

  To the cabin? She thought it was tucked away in the Black Hills. “Where?”

  “Give me five minutes.”

  He seemed to know where he was going. As he drove, the SUV shuddered. Wind rushed through the shattered window on the driver’s side. He turned onto a dirt road leading toward a deserted farmhouse. It didn’t look like anyone had lived here in a very long time. The paint was chipped and peeling. A screen door hung open on the hinges. A rusted swing set stood under a huge, leafless cottonwood tree by the back door. Behind the house, Drew pulled up to the double doors of a small barn that was just as ramshackle as the deserted house.

  He took a set of keys from his pocket. “One of these opens the lock on the side door. When you’re inside, these other keys open the locks on the double doors.”

  She grabbed the keys, jumped from the car and ran toward the barn. Though the sedan and motorcycle had appeared to be too damaged to follow them, she imagined the pursuit coming closer. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

  She fitted the key into the door lock and pushed it open. Inside, it was dark, and she fumbled around until she found a light switch. A couple of bare lightbulbs illuminated the interior.

  A vehicle was parked inside. A classic, two-door Range Rover with heavy-duty tires for going off-road. A guy she’d dated in high school had a similar, no-frills manly car that he liked a whole lot more than he had liked her.

  Drew must have been keeping the Rover here for his escape, knowing that his SUV could be tracked and followed. Talk about foresight! He really had planned for every contingency.

  She went to the double doors. From the outside, the barn looked beat-up and vacant. In here, there were two hinged locks and a thick chain holding the doors shut. When she had everything unfastened, she pushed the heavy bar
n door open so he could drive inside.

  Through his shattered window, he called to her. “Close the doors behind me.”

  Though she did as he instructed, Melinda was about to take charge. She knew that he’d managed to drive here on sheer guts and determination. Now it was her turn to step up. She needed to get him to a doctor, whether he liked it or not.

  She pulled the door shut as soon as the SUV was inside. Though he turned the engine off, a gaseous smell permeated the musty scent inside the barn. They were lucky—thank you, Helga—to have made it this far. She stalked across the concrete slab floor to the SUV.

  Since the driver’s-side door was too damaged to open, Drew maneuvered himself onto the passenger seat. He sat for a moment, still and quiet.

  She opened the door and leaned inside. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

  “Water.”

  Earlier, they’d stopped at a gas station, and she’d picked up a six-pack of bottled water. She opened the back door, took one of the bottles and unfastened the screw top before she placed it in his hand.

  He tilted his head back as he drank, draining half the bottle in a few gulps. “I’m going to have one hell of a headache.”

  “At the very least,” she said. “I’m worried about your injuries. You need to see a doctor.”

  “Not really.”

  When he peeled off his sweater, she saw the left side of his body for the first time. His sleeve was torn and bloody. After that crash, she wouldn’t have been surprised if his arm was broken, but he seemed to have full range of movement. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. The white T-shirt underneath was only lightly spattered with blood. Using the remaining water from the bottle, he dampened the cotton shirt he’d been wearing. Using the rearview mirror, he wiped the blood from his face. “Have we got more water?”

  She handed him another bottle, and he carelessly sloshed water over his head.

  “Stop it.” She took the shirt from his hand. “Let me clean the wound. You’re going to make it worse.”

  “Are you a nurse?”

  “I know basic first aid and CPR.” It occurred to her that he might be in shock. “Maybe you should get in the back of the SUV and lie down.”

  “We need to keep moving.” He swung his legs around and climbed out of the SUV. “The longer we’re in this area, the more likely we’ll be discovered.”

  Though he appeared to be steady on his feet, she figured that he could be operating on an adrenaline rush. Later, he’d collapse, and his injuries would take their toll.

  Firmly, she clasped his right arm. “You’re coming with me, mister. Before we do anything else, I need to take care of you.”

  She led him to a plain wooden bench against the front of the barn. Everything was covered in dust. Not the world’s most sanitary conditions, but it couldn’t be helped. She sat him down on the bench. Using his shirt, she dabbed gently at his forehead. Though the skin at his left temple was heavily bruised and swollen, she couldn’t find the abrasion.

  “There has to be a cut,” she said. The blood that saturated his shirt and sweater came from somewhere. Carefully, she examined his scalp. No wound. “I don’t understand.”

  When she looked into his face, his green eyes were serious. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

  “Find out what?” She lightly probed the bruise on his forehead. “Does that hurt?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  She poured more water on the shirt and wiped the black-and-blue area on his skull. The swelling seemed to be going down, but that was impossible. He’d been injured less than an hour ago.

  As she watched, the dark edges of discoloration faded to a normal skin color. “What’s going on?”

  “Remember when I told you about the blackouts I had as a kid?”

  “Of course I remember.” She couldn’t take her gaze off his forehead. The bruise was visibly receding.

  “I believe,” he said, “that I was part of an experiment. They did something to my blood, causing it to have regenerative properties.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “My body heals itself. Within minutes, any injury is gone.”

  Unbelievable! But the evidence was right here. Before her eyes, his bruise had disappeared.

  Stunned, she sank down on the bench beside him. Had the world turned upside down? Am I as crazy as Drew? Her throat constricted. She couldn’t breathe.

  His arm encircled her and pulled her close. “The men who are after me want to finish their experiments.”

  Resting her head on his chest, she listened to the strong, steady thump of his heart. He was solid and warm, undeniably real. And able to heal himself? His body had regenerative properties?

  She had no idea how to deal with this information, how to deal with him. He was some kind of miracle. “Either I’ve slipped into an alternate universe or you’re telling the truth.”

  “Believe it,” he said.

  She pulled herself together. Later, she’d sort fact from fiction. Right now, they needed to make tracks.

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in his life, Drew had revealed the secret that ruled his life. In spite of the throbbing headache that always accompanied his self-healing, he felt relieved as he drove westward into the rolling landscape that led to the Black Hills. “As soon as I’m sure we’re safe,” he said, “I want you to drive.”

  “Sure,” she said. “You look tired.”

  “That’s the downside to being able to heal myself. Afterward, I’m tired and have a killer headache.”

  “Why?”

  “I haven’t actually consulted a doctor, but—”

  “Why not?” she interrupted.

  “I’ve spent my whole adult life running from people who want to experiment on me. If I handed myself over to an M.D., I’d be volunteering to be a subject. Written up in medical journals as Patient X. Giving endless blood samples. Constantly poked and probed.”

  “Not necessarily. You could find someone sympathetic.”

  “I won’t be treated like a freak.”

  His deepest fear. He’d never before spoken the words aloud, but the dread was always with him. He wasn’t like other people. Not normal. And if he wasn’t careful, he’d end up in a cage.

  He felt the gentle touch of her hand on his arm. Her voice dropped to a feather-soft tone. “I can’t really say that I understand. It’s all too new to me. But I respect your decision. No doctors. No policemen.”

  He appreciated her honesty. The drumming ache inside his skull took on a hard, driving, heavy-metal rhythm. He needed to rest. “It might help me stay awake if you talked. Do you have questions?”

  “Only about ten thousand or so,” she said. “Let’s start with the process. How does it work?”

  “I heal through my blood. When I’m injured, my regenerative blood rushes to the site. Which means that the rest of my body, including my brain, is momentarily starved. As a result, I end up with a killer headache and a need to sleep.”

  “Can you feel pain?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “So you’re not like those lizards that can grow another tail,” she said. “Of course you’re not. You don’t have scales. And you’re warm-blooded.”

  “One hundred percent mammal.”

  She kept the questions coming. “When did you first know that you could heal yourself?”

  “It happened after the first couple of times I had blackouts. I was ten. Belle had left me alone in the kitchen, and there were cookies in the oven.” He still remembered that enticing smell. “I used a pot holder, but the cookie sheet slipped and I burned my hand.”

  He’d known that Belle would be angry, so he ran to his room to hide. “It was a pretty deep burn. At first, it hurt like hell. Then the pain changed to a stinging sensation. I held up my hand and watched it heal before my eyes.”

  “That must have freaked you out. Did you tell your foster parents?”

  “Hell, no.” Belle had him terrified that
he’d be taken away and locked up in a dark asylum. “I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I didn’t really understand what it meant to self-heal until I was older and got into sports.”

  “Aha!” She sat up straighter in her seat. “Now I know why you’re not afraid to try extreme sports. You can’t be injured.”

  He wanted to keep talking to her, but the ripples of exhaustion were becoming a tidal wave. And the drumming inside his head was deafening. He pulled onto the shoulder of the road. “You’re driving.”

  He barely had the strength to drag himself out of the car and change places with her. After giving her brief instruction, he leaned back against the seat. He wanted to believe that his precautions had outsmarted the men who were following him. They wouldn’t be looking for this vehicle. They didn’t know the location of his cabin.

  Though he tried to stay awake to make sure she was able to negotiate the back roads to the interstate, he faded quickly into a semiconscious state. Memories he’d forgotten flowed through his mind. Times and places he barely recalled flashed in vivid color. As quickly as they appeared, the images were erased until only one remained. An eight-pointed star.

  He’d seen it before.

  Chapter Eight

  The hum of the truck’s engine and the gentle motion of highway driving soothed the anxieties that had been Drew’s constant companion throughout his adult life. His secrets, now revealed, seemed even more dangerous because Melinda was involved.

  He yawned. “How long was I asleep?”

  She checked her Swiss Army wristwatch. “One hour and fifty minutes.”

  She’d found Interstate 90. They were headed west toward the Black Hills, making good time. His escape plan had always been to travel this leg on the highway after he ditched his car and switched to the Range Rover—a vehicle purchased under an alias that had no connection to him.

  Though he should have been awake and alert, Melinda appeared to be doing a fine job. She sat upright with perfect posture. Her hands on the steering wheel were at ten and two, just the way a driver’s-education instructor would recommend. Her eyes were glued to the road, and he had no doubt that she was a good driver, law-abiding and careful.