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I put the small stuff into my pockets and crawled to Diaz and the other guys. I emptied their pockets, taking cell phones, wallets, car keys and weapons. That's a lot to carry, but if I had to hunker down in rough shape, preparing to fend off more attackers, I was building an arsenal.
With everything stashed and the shotgun in hand, I rose at the rate of a ninety-nine-year-old with bad knees. At least the slow movement kept
my head from swimming. I got upright and then continued at that pace, cutting a careful path, not leaving footprints on open ground or mowing down undergrowth to betray my route. Focusing on that task seemed to help, and my head remained clear for about fifty paces. Then I started to sway. By that point, I was almost where I wanted to be--a particularly thick stand of trees with lots of bushes. I got in there and huddled down like a rabbit in a thicket.
And then I just cut out, as if I'd expended every last bit of energy. I had to grit my teeth and struggle to stay conscious as I bound my arm. I'd lost blood. I was afraid to even calculate how much, but I suspected it contributed to that light-headedness.
I got the belt on for a tourniquet. The wound didn't seem bad. Just messy. I was trying to get a better look, twisting to see it on the back of my biceps, when my phone rang. As proof of how out of it I was, it took at least five rings before I realized what I was hearing. Then another two rings as I thought, "That's right, Evelyn's coming. I should have called her for help." And yet another ring before I grabbed it, thinking, "Shit! My phone is ringing. Loudly."
In my confusion, instead of answering, I solved the latter problem by turning my phone to vibrate mode. Of course, by that time, Evelyn had hung up.
I went to call her back and . . . And I couldn't. It was as if I truly had drained even the last dregs of strength, and I sat there, staring at the phone, thinking, "What was I doing?" as the world grayed and then came back . . . grayed and then came back.
Call Evelyn.
Yes, I needed to call . . .
How did I call . . .?
Redial. Hit--
The phone buzzed softly in my hand. I stared at it.
Focus, Nadia. Answer the phone.
I hit the button and as I did, everything dimmed, just for a second. But I came back, hearing Evelyn saying, "Dee? Are you there? Dee!"
"Yes." I slurred the word and struggled to focus. "I need . . ."
That graying again, as if someone was fiddling with the world's brightness dial.
"Dee? Where are you?"
"Shot . . . I got . . ."
"Dee? Where are you?"
I tried to blink back the mental fog, but the world kept dimming as I struggled to remember the name of the road. Just give her the name of the . . .
Darkness.
10 - Jack
Jack was still in DC. Well, technically, he'd crossed the Virginia state line, but only because finding a roadside motel in Washington had proved to be a pain in the ass. Or that made a good excuse. Of course, when Evelyn landed, she'd given him shit, saying she was sure he could have found a place between Baltimore and Washington. She didn't push the matter. She knew he had to get closer to Nadia, to feel he could swoop in if something went wrong. The fact that he was holed up in a motel and not at Quinn's condo, searching for clues, was really as much as she could expect under the circumstances.
It took over an hour after she landed at Dulles, though, before she was at his door. He'd been checking out the window at every car door slam, and he had the door open before she could knock. He expected a sarcastic comment. She just walked in and handed him a pack of cigarettes.
"What the fuck?"
"You're welcome, Jack. Really, you are. And we won't even mention what a pain in the ass it was for me to find your damned brand without detouring over half the city."
"I was just in Ireland. Brought back a carton."
"Which I'm sure you left in your locker when you picked up your supplies. You're going to need them to get through the next few hours. In fact, I suggest you have one right now."
He shook his head and tossed the pack on the bed. "I'm fine. You called Nadia? Got an address?"
Evelyn walked over, picked up the cigarettes, took one out and handed it to him. "Smoke. I'll pay the cleaning fee."
