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There was a thunder of footsteps behind us. Brandon barreled down the hallway and pushed through an emergency exit.
Despite it being emergency doors, an alarm never sounded. So much for security coming to maybe ward them off.
Avery’s beat up taxi was stopped at the end of the sidewalk, doors open, with Avery, wearing dirty jeans and a Hawaiian shirt and standing ready. He held onto the back door like he was holding it open for us.
Brandon waved wildly at him. “Let’s go!”
Avery must have picked up on the urgency, because he jumped behind the wheel before we were even at the car.
Brandon pushed me in front of him, into the back seat. He landed on top of me just as the back window fractured with a loud crack.
It took me a moment to realize it was a gunshot.
“Go!” Brandon shouted from on top of me, covering my body.
There was a sharp bang in the air, and then thuds and clunks against metal, but the car was already lunging forward.
I was dizzy as the car moved, turned, zoomed forward. I caught Avery in the driver’s seat, ducking down, and yet trying to look behind us. I had a moment of worry, more scared of him not looking at where he was driving over getting shot at.
“Haha! Can't stop this tank,” Avery cried out. He pounded his fist on the dash. “Whooohoo! American steel for the win!”
I smacked the back of his seat. “No bragging. Just drive.”
“Head to North Charleston,” Brandon said. “We need to...”
“Are you kidding?” Avery asked. “We need to head to the police station!”
“What’s in North Charleston?” I asked, trying to overpower Avery by being louder.
Brandon started to sit up, looking out the back and then sitting up more. The back window had a hole in it. He felt around, sweeping for broken bits of glass or searching for the bullet that had caused it. The rear window was in pieces, but tempered to hold together. “They’ve seen this car. They know this plate now. We need to change vehicles.”
“I can’t give up my car,” Avery said. He turned in the street, weaving through traffic. “Why don’t we go to the police?”
Brandon looked at me, his cerulean eyes asking me what he should tell this guy. We were mixed up in something deadly. He didn’t like bringing in more people, but what choice did we have?
We needed to ditch Avery, and at the same time, needed to make sure he was safe.
Who knew who would get kidnapped next?
THE PLEDGE
Brandon told Avery to take a long, winding route to avoid the possibility of being tracked, so he weaved a path through downtown Charleston, taking run-down streets and business sections instead of taking the highway.
I tried to catch Brandon up on what had gone on since his kidnapping: Randall’s house, the discovery of what Murdock’s Core was, to Axel’s decision to go to the aquarium to try to catch who was following us. I wanted to hear Brandon’s side, but he insisted I tell mine first.
Brandon directed us to a large gray garage in downtown North Charleston. It was close to an abandoned warehouse district, one of many in that area. There wasn’t a sign on the building, and it was next to a restaurant supply store and a fairly large, empty parking lot.
Being in the area made me nervous. This was North Charleston, after all. Why were we here?
“Listen to me,” he told Avery once he stopped in the lot. “Don’t drive this car anymore.”
“I need to,” Avery said. “And the back window is broken. I’ll at least have to drive it to a repair shop. And I’ll need to drive some fares to pay for the work.”
“Do you have a piece of paper?” Brandon asked. Avery handed him one, along with a pen. Brandon scratched an address out. “Go here and don’t stop until you get there. I’ll tell him you’re on the way. You want to talk to North Taylor. He’ll set you up with a car.”
“What about my baby?” Avery asked, making a face and then pressing his palm to his car’s steering wheel. “I can’t leave her.”
“I’ll tell him to fix her up,” Brandon said. “But you can’t drive this again until we solve this.”
“You really should call the police,” Avery said. He tilted his head in my direction. “Mind if I talk to her for a minute?” he asked.
I looked at Brandon, who shrugged and got out of the car and started off toward the building.
Avery and I both got out and stood beside his car. He watched Brandon but talked to me. “Are you sure about this?” he asked.
“What?”
“Look, you don’t know me that well,” he said. “But despite what you might think, calling a cop or a Fed in on this wouldn’t be that bad. I mean, if they’re killing people, you know?”
“They’re not going to understand what’s going on and sending them in would…”
Avery’s look turned serious, his eyes wide and his lips taut. “This isn’t a game,” he said. “And the FBI isn’t stupid. They might have more information on these guys than you even know about.”
Normally, that would probably be the case. I lowered my voice. “Avery,” I said. “Please. If they see a cop coming, they might take it out on Axel and Marc. I don’t want to take that chance. Once I get them back, the FBI or the CIA or whoever can jump in and do whatever they want.”
Avery’s gaze drifted from watching Brandon, who was kicking a rock around near the corner of the building, to my face. “So all I need to do is get Axel and Marc back?”
It was a sweet offer, but Avery had probably heard too much during my conversations with both Marc and Brandon. “It’s dangerous,” I said. “You should go home before they think you’re with us.”
Avery lifted a hand, rumpling the Hawaiian shirt. His hand was empty, and then he turned it over to reveal the back, when he turned it again, his hand had another one of his business cards.
More of his sleight of hand. Impressive.
“Kayli, I can do more than just drive a cab. Keep my number. If you’re going to be chasing these guys, you’ll need it.” He opened his car door and wedged in behind the wheel. “But I’ll be holding you to your word. The moment your friends are out of harm’s way, the authorities get to fly in.”
“Sure.”
He grumbled a bit more but then drove away, leaving Brandon and me behind.
I sidled up next to Brandon. “Who’s North?” I asked, watching Avery’s car disappear down the road.
“An Academy friend,” Brandon said, offering nothing more.
I was sad, again, to see Avery leaving. He had helped, and then had been dismissed quickly. He was right about calling the police, no doubt, but he didn’t understand all that was going on, and he was going to get killed if he stuck around. Sending him out with a new car was the best thing this Academy could do, and I, for once, was grateful that there was someone to take care of his car while we were busy dealing with things. I owed Avery a lot after this, myself.
After Avery was out of sight, I turned, looking at the large building, waiting for Brandon to tell us why we were here. I assumed we were at a secret Academy place to pick up a car, or weapons, or the spy planes, something to help us get Axel and Marc back. And hopefully set Alice on fire.
Brandon walked right up to a side door of the garage. There was a window that was ches
t height. The window was on the small side. He felt around the edge, trying to pop the screen off.
I ran over, scoping out the neighborhood to see if anyone was watching us from other buildings. The area seemed deserted. “What are you doing?” I hissed. “You’re breaking in...”
“It’s my place,” he said. “I’m not going to call the cops on myself.”
“You own this?” I asked.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He wedged the screen off the window, then slid the window over to one side. “I may not be a fancy hacker, all smart and everything, you know, but I can do a few things.”
He compares himself to Corey? “You leave your window open to your garage? You do realize it’s in North Charleston, right?”
“Shut up and get over here.” He bent over, presenting his hands to boost me up.
I stepped into the cradle of his hands and heaved myself over. This was an office space and I found myself on one of the desks as I slipped in. It was dark but there was enough light coming in from the window that I got the general layout. There were two doors, one leading, I guessed, deeper into the garage. The other was narrow, like a closet.
There was a thunk at the window, distracting me from my snooping. “Unlock the door,” he said.
I went over, released a couple of bolt locks and then opened it. There was a ding almost immediately, and a security panel on the wall lit up. I wondered why there wasn’t an alarm on the window. Or perhaps he left it that way just in case…he needed to break into his own garage?
Brandon pushed me out of the way and went for the panel, typing in a code. The panel beeped a couple of times and then silenced. Guess he really did own the place.
He flipped a switch, and overhead fluorescent lighting illuminated the office. There were a couple of desks with computers and a few tall file towers. There were schematics hanging on the wall, designs for machinery parts that I didn’t recognize.
Brandon shut the window and then went to one of the desks. He started up the computer and then bent to open a drawer. He fished out a cell phone, checked it over, and turned it on.
I studied him. His messy hair, the rough start of a beard on his chin, the cerulean eyes that were focused on the screen. On top of the ever-present sadness was something more. A drive. Determination.
