Veil of Justice, Shadows of Justice Book 3 (8 page)

She’d known Nathan was a powerful telepath,
known he had telekinetic talent too, but this was a surprise. It
was like he'd done a Vulcan mind meld with the car.

"Told you I just needed some air and
space."

His normal, steady baritone was just a little
ragged around the edges. Then it registered that he’d spoken
aloud.

The car bumped along, gaining speed, but
their pursuers were determined. She dared to take her eyes off the
view in front of her, turning to study him. It was a mistake, he
jerked the car again and, unprepared, she slammed against the
door.

Lesson learned, she kept her eyes forward and
her hands splayed on the door and ceiling so she didn’t impair
Nathan’s ‘driving’. It seemed like a good idea, it was working,
until the car bounced over another rut in the field and her head
slammed up against her knuckles. "You’re beating the drug." And
beating her up in the process, but she didn't expect to survive a
prison break without a few bruises.

"For the moment. Let’s hope it’s not a smart
virus."

A panic-immune sort of person, that statement
sent her mind whirling through the catastrophic possibilities,
making her grateful for the next distracting swerve and lurch of
the Mustang. "Don’t you know? Can’t you feel if it’s smart or
not?"

"Talk. Later."

Sufficiently silenced, Kelly turned to the
task of discouraging their pursuers. Under the backseat she had her
beautiful, stealthy .22 Green Hornet sniper rifle. An antique when
she’d received it from her uncle years ago; it was her favorite
weapon and a fast way to end this chase.

She waited until Nathan completed a
serpentine maneuver to avoid another oncoming car, then she flipped
the lever and her seat flopped back.

"What’re you doing?" he asked.

"Talk later," she echoed, rooting around for
the back seat's release latch. "When you reach a real road,
remember Chicago is north." It wasn't ideal as a hideout, but it
was easy and they needed a little easy. She ignored the muttering
that followed, doing her best to keep from tumbling around while he
drove like a maniac to avoid capture. It took more than one
attempt, but she finally got the back bench up enough to reach the
rifle and ammunition.

She felt better already, but then she’d
always been the sort to leap into things head first. Being
proactive and involved came as naturally as breathing.
Unfortunately both were characteristics her father counted as flaws
in his only daughter.

Kelly gave herself a mental shake. Her father
was almost a bigger energy drain dead than he’d been alive. She had
to get some perspective. It scared her to think what sort of
pitiful, grieving lump she’d be right now if Nathan didn’t need
her.

A flash and pop near the rear of the car
focused her attention. "I’m kicking out the window," she announced
a split-second before the glass broke and the wind whipped through
the car. "Find the road so I can handle them." She didn’t want to
risk lives by taking shots at bouncing targets from a bouncing
platform.

"What road?"

She thought Nathan shouted, but he’d gone the
telepathy route to compensate for the wind. Hoping for faster and
more effective, she closed her eyes and thought hard about the map
again. The locations of homes, fields, roads, dry creek beds,
showing him all of it from an aerial view.

The car slowed slightly, jerked one
direction, then the other. Within seconds, they skidded onto a
paved road and she waited until the pursuing vehicles joined them
to line up her first shot.

She sighted on the right front tire of the
nearest car. They must’ve punched a turbo option the way it was
closing in on the Mustang. Unless they were slowing down because
Nathan was tired. She discarded the negativity.

Red and blue flashing lights inched closer,
but she kept the gun barrel hidden until the helicopter’s beam
bobbed as the pilot adjusted his course. She’d worked so many years
with this rifle it was merely an extension of her will now and her
consistent accuracy on the firing range proved it.

Breathe. Hold. Squeeze.

She smiled, couldn’t help it. The shot was
perfect. No sound, no flash, just immediate chaos. It never ceased
to amaze her how much trouble one little bullet could cause.

The other driver struggled with the sudden
impairment and she prayed she hadn’t caused any fatalities. The car
spun toward the weak side, the rear swinging forward – until a
second car swerved and skidded into the first, making the very
roadblock she’d hoped for. The resulting cascade of crunching
metal, grinding brakes and smell of burnt rubber rolled through the
air toward her.

The helicopter swooped low over the accident,
then bore down on them and Kelly caught sight of a sniper in the
open door, weapon at the ready. Tired and irritable, she wanted to
pepper the helo with gunfire and be done with it, but the Hornet
wasn't the right weapon for that. Instead, she reconsidered her
firing solutions. The only viable choice was to take out the
searchlight before anyone realized she was armed and the pilot
could lift back out of range.

She took the shot and darkness fell over them
like a warm and welcome blanket. "Punch it, Nathan, and we’ll be
clear," she said, watching the empty road stretch out behind
them.

A strangled sound was the only reply. Well,
that and the decelerating, swerving Mustang. Either the virus was
smart or Nathan had worn himself out. She refused to let them get
caught now. Scrambling back behind the wheel, she took control,
downshifting, then revving through the gears until they were racing
east across the deserted road, rather than north to the safety of
his Chicago-based family.

Nowhere was safe if Nathan succumbed to the
virus. While she had a decent amount of first aid training, she
didn't have the resources to deal with whatever Kristoff had dosed
him with.

By instinct more than design, Kelly continued
speeding away from the prison while her mind worked out solutions.
Any local hospital would send him straight back to the prison and
her along with him. If she only knew how much time he had.

She knew the current reprieve was temporary.
Officials must already be redirecting assets to find them. The
federal government wouldn’t take a breakout like this lightly.
While Nathan’s Mustang could outrun just about anything in the
vehicular world, it was becoming all too clear that he couldn’t
outrun Kristoff’s virus.

Glancing over, she saw the exhaustion stamped
all over Nathan. "You have to hang in there," she said, hating the
tremor in her voice. There was nothing worse than making up the
plan on the fly. Except that was her life at the moment.

She jerked her eyes away from the pitch-black
roadway again. He was sagging in the seat, his silhouette etched
with pain. "Poor baby. What can I do?"

"I’m cold."

She reached over, pressing the back of her
hand against his forehead, then his cheek. He wasn’t cold, he was
burning up. It seemed only logical that a paralytic smart virus
could cause a systemic meltdown. There wasn’t much a smart virus
couldn’t do. It all depended on the design.

Kelly let her mind float on a blue stream of
curses while she urged all the horses she could get from the
Mustang’s engine. There was an answer to every problem, a solution
for every challenge. In her experience nature worked to balance
itself. Which meant...apparently nothing for Nathan since she
didn’t know how to find the positive opposite of a viral
negative.

We can get help in Chicago
, he was in
her head again.

She wondered if he’d last that long.

Guess I have to don’t I
?

"If that’s humor, it needs work." She tried
to block her thoughts, revamping the original plan and hoping
shelter made itself available soon.

She wasn't disappointed. A few miles later a
dilapidated barn loomed in a field off the highway. It was an
obvious hiding place, but they had to take the chance. She drove
right up to the barn, then took the car through, parking in the
muck of a mostly dry creek bed. She treated herself to a few deep
breaths and then let Nathan doze while she masked the tire tracks.
She didn't have much to make them comfortable, but she did her
best, trying not to think about the hide out she'd fully equipped
with blankets, food, and clothes.

So much for planning. Having done all she
could to protect them, she leaned back and willed herself into a
light sleep.

* * *

Kristoff came awake slowly. His body ached
and every screaming nerve added to the agonizing pounding in his
head. The clock on the dash was stopped at one-twelve a.m. He
tilted the face of his watch into the light and saw it was just a
quarter past five. Nearly sunrise.

He hesitated, then levered himself up to a
seated position. When his vision cleared from the effort, he saw he
was alone in the cab. Where the hell was his driver? He turned,
checking the back of the ambulance. The moment of relief evaporated
when he realized the body lying on the floor was Simon. Not
Nathan.

He fumbled around, feeling for the shotgun he
knew was under the seat, then clambered out of the cab and walked
to the open back doors.

Cocking the gun, he leveled it at the boy.
"Wake up!"

Simon sat up, instantly awake, instantly
wary. "Sir?"

Kristoff took in the blood stained clothes.
"Did you hunt?"

Simon nodded.

"What did you catch?"

"Two guards." He pointed past Kristoff, then
to the front of the ambulance. "One back there. One here."

Kristoff lowered the gun and looked back at
the prison. For god's sake, one tower was still in view. In a world
he didn't run, they'd be swarmed by dogs and tactical teams. At
least someone had proved dependable.

To get his hands on Nathan, he'd bribed the
warden with two juiced soldiers and a case of the supplements known
to suppress free will. By this afternoon, he'd probably have a
message on his secure line upping the payoff to include the
Paracuron he'd dumped into prisoner B-21187. Doubtless the warden
had watched the entire interview and now he'd want to know
everything.

"Clean up and stay low," Kristoff said. "And
lock these doors." He closed up the ambulance and waited for Simon
to throw the lock. Then he went back to the cab, sliding across
from the passenger side into the driver's seat. He had no desire
for an up close view of Simon's handiwork at this ungodly hour.

As the ambulance rumbled along, he wondered
about Nathan's little liberator. She'd surprised him, outwitting
Simon, and it left him unsure how to rank her threat to his
cause.

Controlling Nathan and directly accessing his
powers would strengthen Kristoff's current position, rocketing him
back to the top, right where he deserved to be.

Kristoff tried to keep the unruly ambulance
aimed at the prison while swatting at the navigation system. The
damned thing refused to boot up. Nathan's work, surely. That boy
had shown quite an unexpected aptitude for surprise as well.
Especially under the influence of the drugs.

Ah,
c'est la vie
. Unless Nathan's
rescuer was stupid enough to stay in the area, Kristoff reconciled
himself to more of the dratted waiting game. At least with the
Paracuron in Nathan's system, the waiting would be informative.

* * *

Kelly crept out of the car after dawn to
scout around, leaving Nathan to rest. Her legs protested and she
tripped a couple times before she had herself together.

Muscles stiff, she moved cautiously, circling
around their hiding place and found no signs of detection. She
followed the dry creek bed back to the car and cringed when she saw
it in the morning light.

Covered with dust and bits of cornhusks, it
was an ugly sight. With the back window missing in action, they
couldn't possibly drive by daylight without getting stopped by any
number of authorities.

Nathan would not be happy.

Neither was she, but for different reasons.
The car could be repaired, but Nathan? She wasn't so sure.

Last night's smart virus comments tumbled
around in her head, but she didn't have any better answers now.

"Morning," he said, drawing her
attention.

"Morning," she repeated, sliding back behind
the wheel. He looked like hell. The urge to soothe and comfort
wasn't exactly foreign, he was just so beat up she didn't know
where to start. "Good to hear your voice still works."

His fingers twitched, but his hands stayed
loose at his sides.

Reaching over, she brushed the hair out of
his face, and hoped her expression stayed neutral. His hair was
stringy and dull, bearing little resemblance to the rich, close
cropped brown she remembered. When his eyes rolled to hers, she
knew she winced. Couldn't help it. The whites were completely red
from burst capillaries.

She might've cried if she hadn't been afraid
that once the floodgates were open she'd never get them shut
again.

"The Mustang café is fresh out of food." That
got a small smile. He was too skinny, his physique eroded after
months existing on high stress and low nutrition. "You look
horrible."

"Gee, thanks." His eyes drifted away from her
to the limited view through the leaf debris she'd scattered on the
windshield. "Do we have water?"

She found a bottle on the floorboard and
carefully poured a few sips into his mouth. "Did the rest
help?"

"Some. I've found a few weak spots, but the
effect is hanging on longer than it should."

She offered more water. "If you can't move,
how'd you make such a mess of the ambulance?"

"Memory. Same way I drove the car."

That had been nothing short of amazing. And
terrifying. "Is it possible to remember your way out of paralysis?"
She hoped so, because even in a weakened state, he was too much for
her to manage alone.