Desmoterion, page 30
“There is, but I meant a literal gap. If you were to exit the forest, you’d see the fence cut in that part. I have no idea who did it, but it’s still there from what I can tell from the satellites. Pass through that, and then it’s just a matter of dodging the lights and getting away. It’ll be a lot of running and a bit of luck.”
Girish grinned to himself. “I have an idea. What if we caught the attention of the field ops to the south, and they started shooting? I can’t imagine the other side wouldn’t notice gunfire near the border and point their spotlights on that section.”
“A diversion.” Trent’s eyebrow rose. “That sounds pretty smart. The question is, would they be dumb enough to shoot at us? They’d have to know that shooting near the border is a big risk.”
“We’ve picked off these idiots individually since we started this. It’s not like they’re the best of the best when it comes to the brains behind the operation. In fact, I’m counting on them being that dumb, so it gives us a better chance to escape.”
“That’s assuming the other side doesn’t track us down thanks to the bullets heading in our direction.”
* * *
They waited until dusk had set into a dark, cloudy night. With little noise, they crept to the outer edge of the forest within view of the fence.
Girish watched the spotlights for a pattern while Trent kept his eyes on the field operatives to the south for any movement. He turned to Trent. “There’s a gap in the spotlights.”
Trent glanced up. “Show me.”
Girish pointed to the left of the hole in the fence. “Watch that area for a few minutes, and you’ll see where the two spotlights don’t intersect.”
Trent watched and then gaped. “What the hell? That’s like a five-meter gap they’re missing.”
“Exactly, and it seems to continue on, veering a little to the left every time. So if we go to the left a little after the initial one, we can escape without them even knowing.”
“Then it’s time to do just that. The field operatives to the south are just standing around. As far as I can tell, they’re waiting for orders or to see us somewhere.”
Girish shouldered the duffel and waited for Trent’s signal.
* * *
Kipper half listened to Stevenson talk with the field operatives who still hadn’t found Trent and Girish. They debated whether to break apart and go north and south to find them. He didn’t care if they went further south, but if they went north, they were liable to run into them, and that’s the last thing Kipper wanted.
Ward frowned at this screen. “I lost the Ruska radar feed. It went completely dead.”
Stevenson barked at the field operatives. “They’re trying to cross!”
The leader moved in closer to the monitors. “Scan the border fields near the towers. Use whatever you have to do it. They must not cross the border.”
Kipper’s jaw clenched when Delgado said they were inside the fence. And then a gunshot rang out.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Had Girish not been running beside Trent, he wouldn’t have grabbed him before he fell to the ground. He pulled Trent into his arms to pick him up. The extra weight made it difficult to run away. But run, he must.
Thankfully, just as he took the next step, all the spotlights turned toward the forests they’d come from. A thunder of machine-gun bullets pelted the area where the field operatives had been.
Afraid Trent might be dying in his arms, but he didn’t even have time to check, Girish didn’t care what happened behind him.
Trent gasped in his arms, “Fucking assholes, they deserve every bit of what they just got!”
Girish thanked whatever deity watched over them. He did not know how to get to their destination, and if the man in his arms died, he’d be stranded up shit creek. He got them out of the view of the closest spotlights and tried to dodge any back ones as they came his way.
“Just... just a little further, and you’ll be rid of them. You might as well put me down as it’s making you slow.”
Girish gritted his teeth and kept moving. “Like you can move by yourself with a shot to the chest.”
“You need some glasses, Kannan. I was shot in the shoulder, and I’m pretty sure the bullet went clean through. I told you we’d need that medical kit.”
Girish got them to a tree and set Trent back down. “Are you sure about this?”
“I’ve had several bullets still inside me and managed to walk despite it. I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”
Girish moved away from the tree back into the field. The spotlights had already died down once a few minutes had passed. It was then that Girish realized his whole body was too tense to move.
Trent grabbed Girish by the arm. “I’m fine, calm down. We must get to that forest in the distance and head south until it ends. That should put us close to the small hotel.”
Girish scoffed at Trent’s statement, but inside just tensed up more. He’d be lost if Trent died. He had to get Trent to somewhere safe so they could fix him.
“I mean it, Kannan, I’m fine.”
Girish continued to head for the forest when sirens sounded behind them. He glanced at Trent, who raced off toward the forest at full speed.
Girish ran after him, trying to get away from the loud sirens. He hoped they hadn’t tripped some invisible line.
They got into the forest just as the area lit up with bright spotlights.
* * *
Trent gasped for a breath, pushing through the trees to escape the lights and the shouting. This had not gone according to plan, but what even had gone right in his life? He hadn’t told Girish that the running had made the bullet wound worse as blood trickled down the front of his shirt. He wouldn’t last long if he kept losing blood like that, but it’s not like they had time to stop and repair his shoulder.
Girish grabbed Trent’s left arm, which sent a spike of pain down his back. “Let me carry you again. We’re going too slow to evade them.”
“Like you’d go any faster carrying me.”
Girish picked Trent up from the ground. “We’ll see about that.”
Even with the extra weight, Girish kept a steady pace away from the foreign voices calling out.
They ducked behind several trees when the lights flashed again in the forest. Girish picked his moment to dash out without them seeing.
Eventually, the voices got further and further away, and Girish let himself relax a little. That’s when he noticed Trent’s eyes were closed.
* * *
Girish placed Trent’s body on the ground behind a circle of trees. “Come on, Trent, don’t do this to me.”
Trent didn’t answer.
Girish felt around on Trent’s shirt and swore when he encountered blood: a lot of blood. He rummaged in the duffel to pull out the medical supply, found a bandage, wrapped it around the shoulder, and tied it underneath. It wasn’t perfect, but it would soak up the blood.
He had no idea how to stitch up injured people or how to call for help in this foreign land. Never mind the fact that they were illegal migrants carrying guns in violation of the international law on weapons.
He picked Trent’s body up to keep moving.
* * *
Girish didn’t know how long he’d been walking, his watch obscured by Trent’s heavy body, but the sky was still dark when it peeked through the trees.
The location device in Trent’s hand showed that Girish was near the edge of the forest, but he wasn’t sure if it would show him the way to the hotel. As it was, Trent’s body was weighing him down too much to go any further.
Maybe he should rest. However, what if Trent died because of his negligence? Girish couldn’t drag the body, and he dared not stop. If he rested, he might not get going again in time, and the only way to survive lay ahead of them.
Hoping Trent would live, with the blood continuing to trickle out onto Girish’s clothes, the bandage had soaked up most of it, but he wasn’t sure how long that would last. He pressed on.
The forest broke, and open land appeared. It was devoid of anything, no houses, no buildings, no lights, nothing other than a few random trees on the outer edges that led to even more forests.
Girish sighed and looked down at the device, hoping it would tell him where to go next. Instead, it popped up with a message asking if it should proceed to the next stop. He shuffled Trent’s weight and tapped the screen to confirm it.
It recalculated based on their current position and popped up with a map, continuing to head south with the words “small hotel” at the top.
Girish breathed a sigh of relief that Trent had programmed it for future locations. He breathed a sigh of relief at the distance of only a kilometer. It had to be on the other side of the south forest.
* * *
Once they arrived at the small hotel, Girish set Trent’s body down. He pounded on the door and called out, “Please, I need a room!”
The door unlocked to reveal an older woman in a sleeping gown. She said something in a foreign dialect to Girish and then tried to close the door.
Girish blocked it with his foot. “Please, my friend is injured. He’s bleeding, and I need help.”
The woman looked at the slumped-over form of Trent.
“I have money. I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
The woman looked back at Girish with wide eyes.
Girish dug into his pocket to produce a wad of the stolen cash. “Please.”
The woman opened the door further and waved at Girish to come in.
Girish picked up Trent’s body again and shuffled inside the small hallway.
She motioned for him to come to the front desk area.
Girish followed, noticing the various old sepia photographs in frames on the walls. All were from a long-ago period of history. He swallowed hard and wondered if this was a good idea.
The woman picked up the phone to dial a number.
Scared she was calling the authorities, Girish froze, unsure what to do with a mighty language barrier.
She talked calmly on the phone to the person at the other end. If it was the authorities, surely she’d be more tense and the conversation more staccato.
A teenage boy with sandy blond hair wandered into the area and gasped at Trent’s body. He pulled Girish’s arm to the side.
The woman spoke to the boy and pointed to the wooden stairway in the distance.
Girish looked down at the boy. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. My friend knows your language, but I don’t.”
The boy smiled and spoke in broken English to Girish, “Follow me. We will fix him.”
Girish nodded and followed him upstairs.
* * *
The boy gathered clean towels before leading Girish to a small bedroom. The walls were decorated with old battle paintings and tapestries. A single queen bed sat in the middle of the room with only a wooden dresser and a bedside table to keep it company. There was also a large sink.
Girish watched the boy strip off the top blankets and set them aside until he reached the white sheets. “You might want to remove those, too. I don’t want to ruin them.”
The boy smiled at Girish. “It’s okay. We will wash later.”
Girish placed Trent’s body on the bed and moved out of the way once the boy cleaned Trent’s shoulder wound with the clean towels.
The old woman called out from the hallway.
Girish turned to the boy. “What did she say?”
“Doctor is coming.”
Girish chewed his bottom lip, wondering what that would mean for them and whether someone else would screw things up.
The boy smiled at the reaction. “He’s good. Will fix.”
“It’s not that, I just... I’m worried about my friend.”
The boy continued to clean Trent’s chest after removing the blood-soaked shirt. “Hunting?”
Girish frowned at the statement. “I don’t understand.”
“Him hurt hunting?”
Girish wanted to say no but then stopped himself. “Yes, in the forest to the north. I carried him the whole way down here.”
“Late for hunting.”
Girish flushed. “I got lost in the dark forests.”
The boy chuckled and finished wrapping Trent’s shoulder in gauze. “Happens a lot.”
Girish watched the boy move away from the bed. “Um, what’s your name?”
The boy turned and said, “Nikolai. Yours?”
“My name is Girish.” He motioned to the bed. “His name is Caleb.”
“Okay. I go clean now.”
Girish watched Nikolai leave and let out a sigh of relief. He’d almost said Trent’s real name before stopping himself. He sat beside Trent’s body, took hold of his hand and whispered, “Don’t die on me, Dupont.”
* * *
Trent opened his eyes and tried to move. He groaned at the throbbing pain in his shoulder and wondered where the hell he was. And why was he wearing his glasses in bed when he actually hadn’t worn them at all since their escape?
The walls held pictures of battles during what appeared to be ancient times. They weren’t cheerful.
He tried to sit up, but his body refused to move. With gritted teeth, he tried anything to change positions, only amounting to flaying around and not getting very far. Though he did hit something to the left of him.
“Caleb?”
Trent frowned at that name. It definitely wasn’t his, but it sounded familiar, and he wasn’t sure why.
A sandy-haired boy of maybe fifteen appeared overhead. “Caleb? You hear?”
Trent blinked, hearing the hesitant spoken English.
The boy switched to his local dialect and spoke in Ruskie, “Can you understand me?”
Trent tried to think and responded in grunts, “Sort of.”
The boy went back to English again. “No, understand.”
Trent took a deep breath. “Okay, English.”
“You hurt?”
Trent winced. “My shoulder is killing me. I assume someone fixed it?”
“Doctor came. Will bring him back. Not better.”
“Probably just need more meds. I’m sure he patched me up just fine. The bullet went clean through.” Trent thought about the false name before asking, “Where’s my friend?”
The boy pointed to Trent’s left. “Sleeping there.”
Trent gritted his teeth, turning his head to see Girish curled up tight. “He’s okay?”
“Yes. Doctor, check him too.”
Trent looked back at the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Nikolai.”
Trent let his eyes drift closed. “Nice to meet you, Nikolai. Is it possible to get some water? My mouth feels like a desert.”
Nikolai nodded, even if Trent couldn’t see it. “Will get.”
Trent opened his eyes and reached out to touch Girish’s arm. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Girish curled up tighter.
“Kannan quit screwing around. I need help to get up, and that skinny kid won’t be able to do it.”
Girish kept sleeping.
Trent rolled his eyes and hit Girish’s arm harder.
Girish’s body jumped a bit. “Fuck you, leave me alone!”
Trent’s eyebrow rose at the comment. That didn’t sound like it was aimed at him, but at someone in Girish’s dream. “Hey, it’s... wait, Caleb. You used my other name for them. At least you were still thinking when you got here.”
Nikolai entered the room and placed a glass of water on the table beside the bed. “Need help?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think you’re strong enough for that.”
Nikolai pulled Trent up by the side to sit up with little effort. “Better?”
“Well, it looks like you’re full of surprises, Nikolai.”
“You too. Sleeping with glasses.” Nikolai pointed to their duffel. “Hunting with handguns.”
“You went through our bags?”
“Look for ID. Found yours, not his.”
Trent reached out to pull the kid close by his shirt. “And you won’t say a word to the police, right?”
Nikolai pulled back with his hands spread out. “We no trouble. Nice hotel.”
“Still, I’d hope you’d let us leave without trouble. Did Girish offer you any money?”
Nikolai shook his head. “No idea.”
“Well, if he did, we’ll pay it. I have various bundles of cash as well.”
Nikolai smiled. “It’s fine. No trouble.”
Trent leaned back on the pillow. “You might get some later. Hopefully, we can be on our way soon, and then you can go about whatever you were doing before we arrived.”
* * *
Trent woke up again to find a man in his forties touching over his shoulder. “Who are you?”
The man smiled. “Dr. Mack. I patched that up.”
Trent tried to look at his shoulder. “Am I going to live, doctor?”
Dr. Mack laughed. “I’d say you have a good chance of it now, but you’re lucky. The bullet went clean through, and judging by the scars on your chest, I’m guessing it’s not the first time you’ve been shot. But you were almost gone by the time I saw you first.”
Trent’s body tensed.
Dr. Mack pushed his round spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “Your friend wouldn’t let me look at your eyes. I don’t suppose you’re going to let me either?”
“Ngh,” Trent shook his head. With his eyes concealed, he could pass as a tellurian without drawing too much attention to himself. Moribs on the planet were as rare as mixed-species babies; he didn’t want that attention or to be so easily identifiable.
“Don’t worry, we don’t want any trouble. I’m just here because of Nikolai’s phone call saying you were still hurting.”
“It’s tight across my chest. Pretty sure I pulled a muscle or something.”
Dr. Mack felt around the upper chest area. “Here?”
Trent winced at the shooting pain.
He rubbed at Trent’s sore muscle, releasing it a little. “Some rest will fix this, and I’ll give you something for the pain as well. You jerked it when you were shot at the border.”
Trent took a deep breath to calm his elevated emotions. “How did you know about that?”
