New story posted on Ao3! Half new, anyway. This was formerly known as "the Chris and Emma story." It's about 10.6K words.
If it's been a while since you read the first installments, I recommend reading the whole thing. There are events in the later parts that are seeded/foreshadowed in the earlier ones.
If you're like "the what story?" here's the deal. Emma is driving to her brother's house for a nice weekend in the mountains, and she's almost there when she finds a stranger lying in the road. It's our friend AU Cade, who managed to get himself captured and interrogated, and who subsequently escaped. Escaped from where? Sure sounds like Chris's house. So what happened to Chris? And what can a mousy schoolteacher and an injured operative do about it?
She put the car in gear and accelerated slowly, trying to picture the road ahead. The old stone wall continued for at least another mile, and the road’s other shoulder dropped off just enough to make it treacherous.
Her passenger lay across the back seat, breathing shallowly, with one bloodied arm thrown over his eyes. He needed help as soon as possible, especially if his attackers had left him with internal injuries. She had no way of knowing....but Chris would be able to tell, wouldn’t he?
“I don’t think I’ll be able to turn around anytime soon,” she said. “Would it be OK if we just went on? I was headed to my brother’s house. He’s a volunteer firefighter, so he’s had EMT training. He might be--”
“How far?”
She blinked. “To his house? It’s not far from here.”
Cade moved his arm and lifted his head, as if trying to sit up, but he sank back with a gasp. “If...wait, what’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“Emma. How many houses...are out here?”
“With people living in them? I think it’s just Chris. He likes being out--”
“Stop.”
“What?” She was thoroughly confused.
“Stop. The car.”
She slowed to a halt, beginning to wonder if she’d committed a major error. She had no idea who this Cade person was, or why someone had treated him so viciously. If he was someone dangerous...but right now he couldn’t defend himself, let alone attack her. She put the car in park again, and turned to face him.
“Look,” she said, trying to be stern, “who are you? I don’t mean your name, I mean what on earth is going on? Who left you out here?”
“They didn’t leave me. I got away. They didn’t think I was in any shape...to get anywhere. They were right. I didn’t get far.”
Ice squeezed her chest. “Got away f-from where?”
“A house. I didn’t see much of it. I was on the ground floor. In a room without windows. I got out of there...went through a room with a TV and a couch. Green plaid. There was a sliding glass door.”
~~~
She’d staved off panic in that moment, and in every moment since then. Even when she’d pulled out her phone only to find the indifferent words “No Service” staring back. Even when Cade said he hadn’t seen anyone other than the three men who’d brought him to the house.
“Was there a car in the driveway?” she asked desperately. Chris should have been at home; he’d been expecting her.
Cade had managed to sit up, though his shoulders hunched forward, and his voice was weak. “I couldn’t see anything on the way in.” He winced as if the memory pained him. “There was a bag over my head. And I didn’t look back after I got out.”
Questions tripped over themselves in her mind. Who, why, why here? She took a shuddering breath. “If we go on past the house, there’s a crossroad. I can turn around there and go back to town...at least to where I can pick up a cell signal again...the cops would have to drive out here. If Chris is there...” The anguished question was plain in her voice.
Cade raised weary, dark-circled eyes to meet hers. “I wish I could promise you that would work. But these are not good people. They aren’t the kind to leave loose ends behind. Once they notice I’m gone...they may cut their losses and run.”
“What if...what if they think you’re close by? That they can find you?”
He was silent for a moment. “I could go back. Park myself a little ways from the house and wait for them to find me. That might give you time.”
“No,” she said, stunned that he would suggest it. “Not when we don’t even know if Chris is still...if he’s there.”
“Then we need to find out.”
~~~
Hands trembling on the wheel, Emma drove up the road at what she hoped was a normal, unobtrusive pace. As she passed her brother’s house, she shot a covert glance toward it. Lights were on inside, and two vehicles were parked in front – Chris’ Subaru, and a truck she didn’t recognize.
The intersecting road had a solid shoulder, and she pulled off to the side. “If the lights are on, I’ll be able to see in the windows,” she said, reaching for her reserve of calm. “If I can see him at all, I’ll come back here and--”
“I’m coming with you.” Cade groped for the door handle and opened it.
“What? No. You can’t. I’m talking about walking through the woods.”
“I made it from the house to where you found me. I can make it back.” With a grimace, he turned and set one foot on the ground outside the car, then the other. “If your brother’s there, you won’t want to come all the way back to get me. This is faster.”
“I am not leaving you there with them. They could kill you.” Her voice cracked.
He braced his hands on the car’s seat and door frame and dragged himself up. “Then we’ll come up with another plan.”
It was a short hike, but not one she would ever care to repeat. Her flowy white skirt was the worst possible choice for such an expedition, catching on every twig, and the flat soles of her shoes slid over the uneven ground. With Cade’s arm draped over her shoulders, she guided them toward the house, doing her best not to stumble and jostle him. Once, he nearly fell, stifling a hiss of pain; she stopped and gave him a moment to recover.
“We’re almost there,” she whispered, and pointed at the straight line of the roof in the moonlight.
A flashlight beam flared, sweeping the trees. She swallowed a startled squeak, and Cade tugged her down to crouch behind some shrubby undergrowth. Voices shouted to each other as the flashlights swept around.
Over here! Looks like something dragged through here.
Don’t go running off into the woods, dammit! We don’t know how far he’s gotten.
Can’t be too far.
In the play of the flashlights, she saw a silhouetted figure standing in the driveway next to Chris’ car. Two more figures joined him.
She wasn’t close enough to hear the discussion that followed. One man went inside and came back to toss something to his two companions. Keys jingled, motors rumbled to life, and the two vehicles pulled out of the driveway, heading opposite ways on the road. The third man went back into the house.
“That’s two of them outside,” she whispered, once she’d recovered her breath enough to speak. “If we could get the third one out...we could run in and lock the doors.”
“Maybe. But even if we got him outside, he’d still be a problem,” Cade said. “We’d need to neutralize him somehow. Incapacitate him. Otherwise he’ll just break a window to get in.”
She inwardly winced at incapacitate. The thought of intentionally damaging a person enough to...she didn’t think she could. There had to be another way. “You went out through the sliding glass door. Do you think it’s still unlocked?”
Cade’s brow creased. “The two who drove off didn’t go back to lock it. The other guy...his name’s Jerry. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. He might not have thought about it.”
The sharpest… “We need to circle around back. Come on, this way.”
In a corner of the yard sat a small woodshed, secured with a chunky padlock. Emma lifted a frog-shaped flowerpot and extracted a key from underneath. The lock gave her no trouble, though the door swung open with a creak that made her heart race.
Enough light spilled out from the windows behind them to dimly illuminate the shed’s interior. On one side, split logs were stacked in a neat pile, ready for winter. On the other...
“That’ll help,” said Cade.
~~~
The glass door was still unlocked. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. She’d rejected Cade’s first idea, and they’d settled on an alternative plan, one that depended on this door being open. She moved the glass panel just enough to let them enter, then slid it closed again.
The only light on this level came from a single bulb burning in the tiny corner bathroom. She didn’t dare turn on any others. The sallow light didn’t reach into all the shadowy corners, but that didn’t matter. She could have found her way in the dark. She slipped off her shoes, pointed Cade at the green couch, and hurried to check the ground floor rooms.
The back bedroom was empty, and she turned away, feeling ill. She’d always claimed this room when she stayed overnight. With no windows and no electronics, it was the quietest, darkest place she’d ever slept. Only time would tell if she’d ever feel comfortable there again, with the image of the bloodstained quilt seared in her mind.
She checked the rest of the rooms, but there was no sign of her brother. Please, God, let this work, she prayed. Let Chris be OK. She padded back to Cade. “He’s not down here,” she murmured.
Cade nodded. “Are you ready to do this?”
“As ready as I can be.” She picked up what she’d brought in from the woodshed and tucked herself into the tiny, dark laundry room at the base of the stairs. With the door at an angle, no light would fall inside, but she could see out. She moved it cautiously, until she was satisfied it wouldn’t creak.
Cade arranged himself on the couch, assuming a relaxed position, then picked up the TV remote and tapped once.
An old sitcom lit up the flat screen, the exaggerated intonations of the actors interspersed with a canned laugh track. She started, though she’d expected the sound, and it wasn’t terribly loud. Just loud enough....yes. There. A foot on the stairs.
Breathe, Emma. Now was not a good time to pass out. Maybe later, after they’d dealt with the man who was slowly descending the stairs, a suspicious expression on his heavy features.
He reached the bottom, close enough to touch, if she’d been able to reach through the door. Laughter rippled through the speakers. He moved away, three more steps toward the TV, and she heard a sharp intake of breath.
“Hey, Jerry,” said Cade. “It’s way too dark out there. I decided to come back.”
She eased the laundry door open.
Jerry was staring at Cade, seemingly at a loss for how to react to something so far outside his expectations. Perfect. Two silent steps forward, and she was standing behind him.
Cade’s eyes flickered to her and back. “Do you mind if I brought a friend?”
“Hello,” she said lightly.
With a strangled yelp, Jerry sprang forward and spun around to confront her, then went ashen-faced.
She stretched her mouth in a smile and hefted the axe. “Don’t you want to play?” Blue light flickered against her face, and the laugh track cackled uproariously.
He gaped at her in horror. She glided toward him, settling her fingers just so on the hickory handle, and his heels caught on the carpet as he stumbled backwards. Off balance, he whirled and dove through the bedroom door, flailing for the knob. The door slammed closed.
She dashed forward and wedged the axe handle under the doorknob.
Cade grinned wearily as he turned the TV off. “That was perfect. My folks should recruit you.”
She threw the sliding door’s latch and dropped a battered dowel into the tracks. That should keep the most determined intruder from entering. She glanced at the stairs, then back at Cade.
“Go,” he said. “If Jerry gets up to anything, I’ll yell.”
She nodded and sprinted up the stairs.
Unlike the ground floor, the main floor was well lit. The normalcy was jarring – books and magazines cluttered the coffee table, and Chris’ jacket hung neatly on a chair. She threw the deadbolt on the front door, hurried through the kitchen, and checked the door to the back yard. Locked.
The two upstairs bedrooms were open, with nothing out of place, as far as she could tell. Past them was Chris’ office, with the door closed. Trembling, she approached it, took a deep breath to steel herself, and turned the knob.
Movement inside made her flinch back, until the shape resolved itself -- a person, oh God, Chris, slumped on the floor, hands tied in front of him and secured to the leg of the heavy desk. He raised his head, and his eyes widened -- first in surprise, and then in fear. “Em! No, Em, you have to get out of here, there are--”
She hurried into the room to kneel next to him. “Shh, it’s OK, it’s OK. I know. They’re not here.”
She pulled out her pocketknife, the one he’d given her for Christmas three years ago, and sawed through the rope. As soon as his hands were free, he reached for her, and a few tears finally dampened her face as she hugged him tightly.
“Oh my God, Em,” he said shakily into her hair, “I was so afraid you were going to show up here and knock on the door.”
“I would have, but…” She pulled away. “Those men who were here, they had someone else with them. He’s hurt. Can you help him?”
He flexed his wrists with a wince. “If this is the person I heard them talking about, he may need more than just my help, but I’ll do what I can.”
“Cade, I found him!” Emma called as she hurried down the stairs. She flipped switches to turn lights on.
Chris moved over to the couch, and Emma detoured into the laundry room. The dryer held a load of clean towels; those would do. After a few moments of rummaging, she located a small bucket and filled it with warm water from the laundry sink.
Back in the TV area, Chris had gotten Cade to sit up and take off his shirt. She gasped before she could stop herself.
“That bad, huh?” Cade had heard her reaction.
“This is the first time I’ve seen you in decent light,” she said by way of explanation. Every inch of him she could see was a mosaic of pale skin, dried blood, and red-purple bruises.
“You really should go to a hospital,” Chris said to Cade. “That sharp pain could be a broken rib, and if it punctures your lung, you’ll be in serious trouble.” He turned to Emma. “Can you drive him?”
Emma bit her lip. “My car is a quarter mile up the road, and they took your car to look for Cade. I...I need to catch you up on what--”
All three of them looked up as the glare of headlights shone through the window.
“Oh, good,” Cade said dryly. “They brought it back.”
“Found it.” Chris came back into the kitchen holding a small box. “What did Marsha say?”
“She’s sending help, but it’ll take them 45 minutes to get here,” Emma said anxiously.
“Oof. Well, can’t be helped.” He took a few red shotgun cartridges out of the box and lined them up on the table.
“She’s calling some off-duty guys.” What was the name Marsha had mentioned? “And someone else...someone...Kennedy?”
“Mike Kennedy.” Chris nodded. “Fish cop. U.S. Fish & Wildlife, I mean. Federal law enforcement. He lives over toward Highway 12.”
“And a...a fish cop will help?” she asked, mystified.
“This one will, if he can get here.” He turned the shotgun over and began inserting cartridges into it. “Mike’s an awesome guy. He used to be—"
“Chris.” Emma stared at the shotgun. “Were you holding Jerry at gunpoint with an empty gun?”
“Well, Cade was, yeah. But Jerry didn’t know that.” Chris looked slightly sheepish. “I never keep this thing loaded, and I didn’t have time to look for the shells.”
“Might’ve been for the best,” Cade said. He touched his right shoulder and rotated it cautiously, with a wince. “Recoil would be a bitch right now.”
“Em, if it comes down to it, you might need to shoot this thing,” Chris said soberly. “Did Grandaddy ever show you how?”
“N-no,” she said faintly.
“It’s not hard. The main thing is, like Cade says, it’s got a kick. You want it tucked against your shoulder, tight.” Chris demonstrated, sighting down the long barrel. “It’ll go boom each time you pull the trigger. Five times, and then you have to reload.”
“Do you have more of these?” Cade indicated the remaining seven cartridges lined up on the table.
“That’s it, unfortunately. I’m not a hunter; I just keep this in case of bears.”
“Well, it’s enough for a few shots on each of them. It should only take one good hit,” Cade said.
Emma shivered at his grim tone. “We...we don’t want to kill them, do we? Couldn’t we scare them off? Or...or shoot them in the leg, maybe?”
Cade and Chris exchanged a look, and Emma’s heart sank. Clearly they understood something she didn’t. But how was she supposed to know what to do? Her expertise was in introducing young minds to decimals, fractions, and currency. She’d never imagined being trapped in a situation like this.
“Em,” Chris said gently, “there are two things you need to know. One is that these are deer slugs, and that means when I pull this trigger, I’m throwing a big chunk of metal at my target. If the target is a person, it’s going to do a lot of damage, to a leg or anything else it hits.”
“The other thing is...” He hesitated, swallowed, and spoke flatly. “Those two guys, after they...left me in that room back there, I could hear them talking in the hall. One of them said, ‘Why don’t we just get rid of that guy now?’ And the other one said, ‘Not yet. I want to keep him until we’re done here.’
“So...I’m going to do whatever I have to do, to keep us safe.”
No. 1 - A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY
Context: Head Wind, Cade & Chloe, after “Now what do I do with you?”
~~~
“You could let me go,” I said hopefully. “One less problem for you to deal with.”
She shook her head. “I’m low on capital, and you’re my main asset. You stay. Unless you turn into a liability, in which case I’ll kill you.”
She said it without batting an eye, like she was talking about tossing an old pair of socks in the trash. Then she threw me the damn water bottle again, the one she’d drugged.
“Chloe—”
“I need sleep, honey, and I’m not sleeping unless you are too.”
I couldn’t. I knew I wouldn’t be able to make myself swallow it, even if she tried to pour the stuff down my throat at gunpoint. I was going to end up shot unless I came up with another solution.
So I did. Even managed to talk her into it. It sucked, but it was better than the other two choices.
She hunted around and came up with a few skinny cables, like the phone-charging size, and stood there with the gun while I wrapped one around my left wrist and one leg of the desk, tying it off as best I could. Then she took over, securing my other hand to the other desk leg. And yeah, I cooperated. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.
To my extreme disappointment, she went back and tied another cord over the first one I’d half-assed. I hadn’t really tried to leave it loose, because she’d have noticed, but it’s tough to tie a knot with one hand. Still, it kept me in place long enough for her to do a better job.
I didn’t expect to get any sleep like that, but I scooched around until I could at least lean against the wall. I envied Chloe’s sofa. She lay down and stared at the ceiling, so I closed my eyes, thinking I could rest a little. Eventually, somehow, I must have drifted off.
~~~
I woke up before sunrise. Don’t ask me how I knew that. My back hurt, and a dull headache burned behind my eyes. I couldn’t remember why I’d fallen asleep sitting up, and I tried to rub my eyes, but of course I couldn’t. The memory of the last few days hit me like a cold shower.
I might have accepted a cold shower if anyone had offered one. I’d been wearing the same clothes for a week; I felt gross and tired and sore, not to mention lost and completely alone.
A whimpering sound from the sofa distracted me from my fit of self-pity. Even asleep, Chloe’s face was lined with stress and pain. Either she was dreaming, or she’d moved her leg in her sleep.
I wanted to hate her. But she’d probably saved my life, and I couldn’t help thinking she was just as alone as I was.
That didn’t mean I wanted to stay with her a minute longer than I had to. I spent some time quietly working at one hand, and then the other, trying to get free, and I got exactly nowhere.
“Good to know I haven’t lost my touch,” Chloe said. When I looked back at the sofa, she was propped up on one elbow, watching me. I tried to remember the pixie smile and the flirty black dress she’d reeled me in with, but that Chloe was buried under dark-circled eyes and a messy ponytail.
“You look like shit,” I said.
“So do you.”
“Matches how I feel. What’s your plan for today?”
She sat up, stretched, and winced. “I plan to trade you for information.”
My ankle was covered in nasty, bloody streaks, like I’d been clawed by a mountain lion. I mopped at the cuts with the hem of my pants leg.
“You planned this, didn’t you?” I muttered to Chloe. She didn’t answer, still being out cold. Most likely it was the late weasel’s fault, his aim being as good as his taste in weapons. Still, I thought it would have fitted Chloe’s sense of humor to send a bunch of rock shrapnel through my leg. I’d be taking part of that hill away with me, little shards I couldn’t stop to dig out right then.
I rolled Chloe onto her back. She moaned a little, but didn’t open her eyes. The bandage I’d put on her ankle was reddish. It must’ve bled more while we were crawling and walking.
Her left hand was dripping red onto the grass—somehow she’d lost a chunk of skin and meat off her palm. I cussed and pulled my shirt off, wrapped it around her hand and clamped down. She wasn’t a big person, and I uneasily wondered how much blood she’d lost.
Why the hell did I care? I could’ve—maybe I should’ve—just left her there. I thought about it. But…I don’t know. It just didn’t seem right.
I patted her pockets, trying to find her phone, and then looked around where she’d fallen, but I couldn’t find it. I did find her gun in the grass, and shoved that into my pocket.
Since I couldn’t call for help, I went with the next best plan, which was miserable as fuck, and I hope I never have to do anything like that again.
See, I was betting that if Smirky Smurf had brought friends, they would’ve come to see what all the shooting was about. So he was on his own, and that meant we could go back to the house and get Chloe’s car. “We” meaning me dragging Chloe, limping every damn step of the way.
Downhill was bad. Uphill was hellish. Toward the end, it was step-drag, step-drag, inch by inch. She seemed to get heavier the closer we got to the house.
An empty black Buick sat in the driveway. It occurred to me, in a hazy way, that the Buick was blocking the garage, and the weasel’s car key was probably in his pocket. I decided not to think about that. I had to get Chloe inside.
Through the door. Into the hall. I laid her down on the carpet runner. When I tried to stand up, the walls went blurry, and I landed on the floor next to her.
Maybe I should’ve wrapped my shirt around my own leg. How much blood had I lost?
“We need to get upstairs,” Chris said, standing up. “Come on.”
“Upstairs?” Emma said. “But—”
“If they want to get back in here, this door won’t hold.” Chris wrapped one arm around Cade, aiming for the least-bruised places, and helped him to his feet.
“But—I locked it. With the dowel. They can’t open it, can they? Not without—”
“A rock,” Cade said. “Or a tire iron. He’s right. And...Chris, if they have your car key, do they have your house key?”
Chris’s eyes widened. “Yes. Em, help Cade up the stairs. I need to get something.” As soon as Emma took his place steadying Cade, Chris dashed up the stairs.
“I can walk, now that I’m up,” Cade said.
“Of course you can. And I can help.” Emma settled his arm over her shoulders and together they navigated slowly up the stairs.
Chris’s footsteps pounded on the floor upstairs as he ran from one room to another. As soon as Emma and Cade were through the basement door, Chris was there, closing the door, locking it, and kicking a rubber wedge into the thin gap between the door and the vinyl kitchen tile. Another wedge had been jammed under the back door.
Cade looked at the wedge, then back up at Chris. “Volunteer firefighter. You keep your gear here?”
Chris nodded. “Most of it.”
The front doorknob rattled.
Emma started violently, and Cade’s breath hissed through his teeth. “I’m so sorry!” she breathed. She carefully disengaged herself so he could stand on his own. She squeezed her arms around herself as if they could stop her from trembling.
A fist pounded on the front door. An annoyed voice shouted, “Jerry!”
“He’s not the one with the key,” Cade said quietly. “And he thinks Jerry locked the door. We have about five minutes before he figures out something’s up.”
“Jerry’s still downstairs,” Emma murmured numbly. She wracked her brain for something useful to say or do. She’d never wanted to be the dead weight in an emergency, the one that everyone else had to work around, but too many impossible things had happened too fast.
“Along with the axe,” Cade said. Noticing Chris’s puzzled look, he explained, “Jerry’s the heavyset one; he’s in the bedroom downstairs, with your axe wedged against the door.”
“Do we need to bring him up here?” Emma asked tremulously.
The two men considered it. “I think so,” Chris said, “Better to keep tabs on him. But...crap. Priorities. We need to call in the cavalry. Emma, if I call Dispatch, can you tell them what’s happening?”
“You have cell service?” Cade asked.
“Better,” Chris said, reaching for a retro lime-green appliance sitting on a corner shelf. “I’ve got a landline.”
He lifted the receiver and quickly punched in numbers. “Marsha? It’s Chris. Hey, I’ve got a serious problem out here at the house. There are two guys outside trying to break in. I know they have handguns, not sure what else. Listen, my sister Emma is here, I’m going to let her give you details.” He thrust the receiver at her.
Emma took it in nerveless fingers. “H-Hello?” She hardly recognized her own voice, high and wavering.
“Hi Emma, I’m Marsha.” An older woman’s voice, calm and precise. “Chris said there are two men trying to break into the house on Hirams Ridge?”
“Y-yes. Two of them,” she stuttered. What could she say that would be helpful? “I don’t know who they are. And...and there’s another person here. I found him outside. He’s hurt. I mean, they hurt him. Chris says he needs a hospital.”
“And he’s in the house with you now?” At Emma’s affirmation, the sound of rapid typing came from Marsha’s end. “Three of you in the house, one injured; two men outside trying to break in, probably armed. OK, I’ve notified the two on-duty officers. They’re heading your way.”
Two?? Emma wanted to screech, but...out here, on a normal night, that was probably enough. She jumped again as resounding thuds rattled the front door.
“Emma, I need you to tell Chris that it’ll take them 45 minutes to get to you,” Marsha said. “Bogey was running radar out on Highway 12, and Tom’s over by Turtle Pond Road. As soon as I get off the phone with you, I’m going to call a couple of off-duty guys. Tell Chris I’ll try to get in touch with Mike Kennedy. If anyone can get there any faster, I’ll call you back and let you know, OK?”
“OK. I’ll tell Chris. Th-thank you.” Emma placed the receiver back on the cradle with a trembling hand and looked around. Chris was nowhere to be seen, but the basement door was open, and Cade stood by it holding a shotgun pointed at the floor. Grandaddy’s old shotgun—she hadn’t realized Chris still had it. It was a bracing sight, but if Chris was downstairs, why hadn’t he taken it with him?
She started to ask Cade, but he held up a finger to caution her to silence, then indicated she should move behind him. She scurried past him into the next room.
Chris’s voice came from downstairs. “Move where I tell you, when I tell you.” She’d never heard him sound like that, so hard and ruthless. “I’m a firefighter. Trust me, I know how to open up something with an axe.”
Heavy footsteps came up the stairs, and Emma shrank back further. She didn’t want to see Jerry, didn’t want him to recognize her as the one who’d tricked him.
Cade glanced back at her. “We’re going to put him in the back room. Can you lock this door?”
She nodded, staying back as Cade and Chris prodded Jerry through the kitchen and down the hall. As soon as they were out of sight, Emma closed and latched the door, kicking in the rubber wedge as she’d seen Chris do.
As she turned around, the doorknob rattled.
She leapt away from the door with her heart in her throat, realizing in the next moment that it wasn’t the basement doorknob she’d heard...the sound had come from the back door. The air around her seemed to have solidified, compressing her chest. She took two steps back; her knees flatly refused to function, and she sat down on the floor abruptly.
No, Em, not now! This was no time to panic. Chris didn’t need to worry about her on top of everything else.
The back door rattled again, thumped as if someone had hit it in frustration, then fell silent.
Get it together, Em. She crawled a few feet up the hall and into a darkened bedroom. The gloom was somehow comforting, and she locked her eyes on the shadows and took deep breaths until her head stopped spinning. The door frame provided support as she dragged herself back to her feet. She stood clutching it until she was sure she wouldn’t fall down again.
There had to be something useful she could do. Curtains? She stumbled over and yanked the bedroom curtains closed. That was better. The accomplished task stiffened her spine. How many other curtains were open on this level? Could she get to them safely?
She had just stepped tentatively into the hall when Cade and Chris emerged from the room Chris used as an office. “He won’t be going anywhere for a while,” Chris said, shutting the door firmly and leaning the axe against the wall.
“You ought to sit down,” he said to Cade, then turned to Emma, paused, and said gently, “You too, Em. Go on, I need to look for something.”
Emma yearned to collapse into the comfortable sofa in the living room...but the room seemed terribly exposed, with windows on two sides, even though the curtains were already closed. She and Cade detoured back into the kitchen instead.
He set the shotgun down across the breakfast table and lowered himself stiffly into a chair with a smothered hiss of pain. She sank down in the chair across from him.
He looked, if it was possible, even worse than she’d thought. The bruising was bad enough, but now she could see much of the dried blood had come from shallow, parallel cuts in four or five spots, as if someone had been aiming for pain rather than damage.
“Cade…” she said timidly, “Why are you here? Who are those men?”
He was silent for a moment, then said, “I work...for a kind of law enforcement. I’m not sworn, but we...assist. I was supposed to meet a guy who had some evidence for us. He’s a hard guy to pin down...very careful, and I don’t blame him, given what he knows. There’s a trailhead at Bridal Falls; I was supposed to meet him there tonight.
“These guys, Jerry and his pals, ran me off the road not far from here. They...have a vested interest in talking to my contact before I do. They wanted to know how to find him.”
“So they...asked you?”
He nodded slowly. “They did.”
“And...I’ll bet they still don’t know.”
He gave her a pained, crooked grin. “Nope.”
Head Wind is a Cadeverse AU where Cade’s team works for some kind of covert agency, not yet specified. Several threaded stories have come together out of that sandbox:
Cade & Chloe (mini-collection) – Word on the street is, if you need someone kidnapped, Chloe can take care of it...for the right price.
Flash Point, aka the Emma, Chris, and Cade story (mini-collection) – Emma was driving to her brother’s house when she came across someone lying in the road.
Cade & Donnie – When you go to gather intel, but instead it gathers you. Now the mission shifts to escape and evasion...
Don’t Move – That particular click is never a good sign.
Field Medicine – Warning: barbed wire will bite.
Lost – This escape is not going well.
Chronic Pain/Hypothermia – Still not getting any better.
Missing Cargo
Shackled – Cade searches for a thief.
Unconscious – Hey, we might have a lead on Luther.
Beaten – Found him. Ouch.
Miscellaneous
Ransom – Someone grabs Donnie.
Bleeding Out – Someone shoots Cade.
Defiance – Threaten Hank’s family and you will Find Out.
Hallucinations – Tbh, the wall had it coming.
Adrenaline – Adjust your speed in the rain, kids.
Isolation – For once, it’s Hank in the hospital.
Delirium – And now it’s Cade, back again.
Emergency Room – Answering Cade’s question of how he got to the hospital in “Delirium”
Again, all credit to @whumpadoodle for the brilliant doodles!
