PROTOTYPE 14
By Heck



Comments to heck@beadyeye.me.uk

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was a glorious sunset, that night. Scudding clouds, backlit by the vivid
rose-red sun as it sank wearily below the horizon, slid smoothly across the
sky like a fleet of majestic galleons on a calm sea. It was enough to take
your breath away.

We had spent the day tucked away in our little hollow catching some zees,
listening for sounds of pursuit, and discussing our options.

There didn't seem to be many. New York looked out of the question now, of
course. The cops would have reported the way we were headed, and they'd be
keeping a sharp lookout for us. The original plan, to get to CNN and surrender
on condition that they let us broadcast our story, was still a sound idea, but
that city was now closed to us.

"CNN is big, man", Rob had said. "They gotta have, like, studios all over the
place, you know? Every major city".

"What about DC?" Lucy wondered. "That's not too far".

"Too much government for my liking", I said. "The Pentagon in particular. Too
many military types".

"Chicago, then?"

"A possibility", I agreed. "Or we could try for somewhere smaller. Somewhere
in the Mid-west, perhaps".

"I like that idea", Lucy smiled. "I was brought up there. It'd be like coming
home".

"What about this for an option", Rob put in. "Nearly everywhere has its own,
like, local TV station or PBS. Why don't we, like, hijack one of those and get
them to uplink us to CNN? They're totally bound to be able to do that, man".

"That sounds good", Lucy enthused. "I don't like the word 'hijack'? But I see
where you're coming from? There's usually only a few people working at those
places, or there always used to be. That way, we could get the message out
more quickly".

"But then, who do we surrender too?"

"The local sheriff?" Lucy expanded her train of thought. "We tell him that he
can take us into custody, but only if he lets us talk to the governor".

"I don't like the idea of local law", I said. "They can be a bit short
sighted. It might work if we can get a CNN reporter on side, though, to give
us continual coverage so we're always in the public eye. They'd be hard
pressed to do anything untoward if there's always a camera in their faces".

So that was the revised plan. First town with a PBS station we came to, we
would walk in and stake our claim to their airways. As we emerged from the
hollow into the sunset, we felt positive for the first time since hearing the
helicopter. We set out into the darkening evening and marched across the
grassland, looking for a road.

Then that bitch Fate stuck her finger in the pie again.

We had been going for about an hour, once more depending on Lucy's excellent
night vision to keep us on track. As usual, the woman was out in front with me
and Rob in file behind, trying to keep up. The grass had become tussocky, and
the terrain rose and fell in small hillocks.

"Prairie dogs", Lucy's keen nose told her, and she passed on the information
to us. "They made these mounds".

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I don't really know. I just do. I must've read it somewhere, because I see it
as text in my mind. It must have been when I was a girl, though, because I
know I haven't read it since I've been with you guys. We'll have to keep a
sharp eye out for burrows".

Well, the words had hardly left her lips when there was a thud, and a curse
from Rob behind.

"Ow! Shit! Ow! Oww!"

We hurried back to where he lay. Sure enough, he had put his foot into what I
would have called a gopher hole, but assumed the prairie dogs Lucy had been
talking about had dug it.

"You OK?" I asked.

"Shit, man, what do you think? No. I'm not OK. I turned my ankle in this
fuckin' hole, man. Ow! It hurts".

"It's pretty well wedged in", said Lucy, who had been hunkered by his feet
examining the problem. "You're stuck, Rob".

"Gee, you think?"

"Hold on. We'll soon have you out".

She began to dig with her hands, and I knelt to help. The earth was hard and
compacted through generations of passage of prairie dog feet, and I found it
hard going. In Lucy's steely hands, though, the ground crumbled like sand. In
a few minutes, he had his foot free and he sat on the grass, moaning in pain.

"What is it, like, sprained or something?"

"Sorry". Said Lucy, who could see well enough in the dark to distinguish it
clearly. "I think you broke it. Can you stand?"

"Dunno. I'll try".

We helped him to his feet, but as soon as he tried to put the slightest weight
on it he screamed with pain, and down he went again.

"Oh, this is just great!" I almost shouted, feeling unreasonably angry with
Rob. It wasn't his fault, after all. "In the middle of nowhere, and he goes
and busts his ankle! What else can go wrong?"

"Hey, man, chill", Rob said. "I didn't, like, bust it on purpose, you know?"

"Aye, I know", I sighed, immediately regretful for my outburst. "It's
just ... och, forget it". I folded my arms and turned my back, silently cursing
him for his clumsiness.

"There's no use getting angry". Lucy said, her voice calm and in control.
"It's done, and there's nothing we can do about that. We just have to get him
to a doctor".

"I wish Mike were here", I said, not for the first time missing the big
physician's presence. "He'd fix him up in no time".

"But he isn't. So it's up to us to do our best for him. I'll just have to
carry him". She squatted by his side and slipped her arms under his shoulders
and knees.

"Do you need a hand?" I offered.

"No thanks. I've got it".

She straightened easily, cradling the lanky form of Rob in her immensely
powerful arms. He must have weighed close to seventy-five kilos, yet she held
him like a child.

"Comfy?"

"Oh, yeah", he nodded with a big, foolish grin all over his face, despite his
pain. "This is cool".

"OK. Sean, you go ahead and keep your eyes out for more holes. I can't see the
ground right in front, through Rob". Se adjusted her hold slightly. "I think I
can hear traffic up there, to the north a ways".

We set out once again, Rob riding comfortably in Lucy's arms and grinning like
a Cheshire cat as she stepped easily over the turf.

I was surprised at my feelings. OK, I knew I really wanted Lucy, but had given
up any hope of ever having her. I'm not that good when it comes to talking
women into my bed, and on those occasions when I've succeeded it's been as a
result of circumstances, like we were both drunk, rather than through any
suavity on my part. Besides, I was a little in awe of Lucy, and women who
affect me like that are lost to me. I never know what to say. So I was
resigned to the fact that the chances of getting it on with Lucy were remote,
at best.

That said, I didn't feel envious when Rob shared her company, or anyone else,
for that matter. I wasn't jealous when she talked to him or spent time with
him. I didn't even wish she'd pay more attention to me.

Seeing Rob being carried in her arms, however, filled me with jealousy. That
it was he, and not me, who was experiencing her strength first hand; he, and
not me, who could feel the power of her arms around him; he, and not me, who
was being borne over the sward as if he was as light as a feather. These
things filled me with a longing that I had never felt before, a deep desire to
be lifted and carried by this enormously strong woman, who looked like the
most gorgeous goddess of my dreams, fiercely powerful yet entirely feminine. I
almost wished it was me who had broken his ankle.

Pushing these feelings to the back of my mind [they had no place in what I had
come to think of 'our mission'], I continued to place one foot in front of the
other, only occasionally glancing back. Each a time I did, a thrill of
excitement and a pang of envy twisted inside me.

After a couple of hours even I could hear the sounds of traffic, the
occasional rumble as a huge truck ploughed through the night, and once or
twice I fancied I saw headlights in the distance.

"Stop, for a minute", Lucy said, the first words that had passed between us
for a long time.

"Are you getting tired?"

"Strangely enough, no. Not at all. But my arms are getting a little stiff.
Rob? Wake up".

I was surprised to see that Rob had drifted off to sleep in the cradle of
Lucy's arms. He must have felt so secure in her grasp that he had just nodded
off, his head resting comfortably on her shoulder.

There was that jealousy again, damn it.

"What is it?" Rob mumbled, coming to. "Do you want to rest?"

"Only for a few minutes. We can't waste time". She bent from the waist and
placed him gently on the grass. "The road's only about three miles away.
That's four point eight-three kilometres, to you guys", she smiled, shaking
out her arms. "When we get going again Rob, it might be better if you ride on
my back".

"Yeah, sure". And there was that Cheshire cat grin again. "It's totally cool,
Babe".

That was the second time he'd called her Babe. I didn't like it, and scowled
at him. Really clever thing to do, in the dark.

"Rob". Lucy's voice was silken honey. "I don't know how things are done, these
days, but in my time people didn't call each other 'Babe' unless there was
something special between them. Otherwise, it was a bit of a faux pas. I like
you, but I am not your 'Babe'.

Rob nodded vigorously, looking contrite. At least, I hoped he did.

"Yeah. Right. That's cool. Whatever, uh, Lucy".

I turned my face away, grinning like a baboon. Such a sweet and classy put
down, but a put down, none the less. Yeah!

"OK", she said. "Let's get moving again. Sean, will you help him climb
aboard?"

Between us, we got Rob mounted piggyback style, and we resumed our trek. Able
to see the ground in front of her feet, Lucy set a brisk pace and we reached
the road in just over an hour.

"We better keep to the shadows", I said. "Anybody seeing you carrying Rob
might raise suspicions".

"Fair enough", Lucy agreed. "I think there's a farmhouse nearby. I thought I
could see the rooftops above the horizon, from out in the fields. This way".

She strode off down the road, making even better time on the metalled surface,
with Rob riding happily on her back and me bringing up the rear. I really did
wish it was me. I came close to saying something I might regret, when Lucy
next spoke to him.

"Rob, I hope that's your belt buckle I can feel? Pressing into my back?"

He had the decency to be ashamed.

"Sorry", he said quietly, adjusting his clothing.

We crested a rise, and there was the farmhouse, right enough. Lucy stopped
about fifty metres short.

"I think you better carry him up to the house", she said. "Like you say, me
carrying him might raise suspicions".

She was right, of course, but the way I felt carrying Rob was not what I
wanted to do. I grudgingly agreed, and we transferred him between us.

Christ, he was heavy! Like I said, about seventy-five kilos, a couple of kilos
lighter than me. By the time we reached the house my knees were buckling and I
was nearly ready to drop him, yet Lucy had carried him for nearly five hours,
across God knew how many klicks of rough ground, without batting an eye. If it
was possible for her to climb even higher in my estimation, she did.

Panting, I waited on the path while Lucy stood before the heavy oak door and
rang the bell. The house was very quaint, rustic, and immaculately kept.
Around the front, neat gardens wafted the aroma of night-scented blossoms to
my nostrils, and the gentle breeze soughed in the branches of ornamental
shrubbery.

"What's the time?" Lucy enquired. I couldn't see my watch, but Rob could see
his.

"About a quarter to midnight".

"Perhaps they've all gone to bed", I suggested. "Ring again".

She leaned on the button long and hard. I could hear the bell echoing inside
the large house.

"That ought to rouse 'em", I said.

With a loud scrape, an upstairs window rumbled open and an indistinct head
poked out. Security lights illuminated the front of the building.

"Who's there?" a woman's voice called. "What's going on?" Lucy stepped back
into plain sight, putting on her best little-girl-lost act.

"Excuse me, ma'am. We're sorry to disturb you at this time of night, but our
friend has been hurt". She indicated Rob on my back. "We hope you can help
us".

The woman looked us over. We must have been a sorry sight, with our filthy
clothes and bedraggled appearance.

"Stay there", she ordered, and the window slid shut. In a few minutes, the
heavy door opened a crack, held on the safety chain, and one eye looked out.

"What's the matter with him?"

"Our car ran into a ditch", Lucy improvised. "We stared walking across the
fields, but we got lost. Then Tommy, here, caught his foot in a gopher hole,
and broke his ankle. Please help us, ma'am. We've carried him for miles".

I winced inside at her use of the word 'miles', but the woman didn't seem to
notice. She scrutinized us for a few seconds, and then unhooked the chain. The
door swung silently open to reveal a dark haired woman in late middle age with
the kind of face that would have been very attractive, before the ravages of
hard work and weather robbed her of her beauty. She was dressed in a worn,
pink candlewick robe, and held a heavy, single barrel, eight-gauge shotgun on
us. Another shotgun, I thought. I could get sick of this.

"No need for the gun, ma'am". Lucy gave her her best smile. "We don't mean you
any harm. We just need to get help for our friend".

"I'll be the judge of whether you mean harm", the woman said, but her tight
grip on the shotgun relaxed a little. "Best bring him into the parlour".

We followed her into a comfortable living room, furnished with old but sturdy
pieces, and laid him on a chintz sofa. She leaned over and peered at 'Tommy's'
injury.

"Yep", she nodded. "It's busted, right enough".

"Is there a doctor close by?" Lucy asked, while I sat on the edge of the sofa,
catching my breath. "Mrs.?"

"Cooper", the woman replied. "Miriam Cooper. Yes, there's a doctor in town. Do
you want I should call him?"

"That would be really kind of you", Lucy smiled. Mrs Cooper had obviously
decided to trust us, to a degree. "Our friend's name is Tommy Lee. This is
Paul Simon, and I'm Sarah Connor".

I don't know where she got those names from, but they slid off her tongue with
a ring of truth. I was impressed. The woman could lie for her country.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure". The gun barrel swung away from us. "I'll just
go and call the doctor, shall I?"

"You two have totally got to get away from here", Rob said when the door
closed behind Mrs Cooper. "I can't walk, and you can't keep carrying me".

"No way", I said. "We're not leaving you".

"You have to, man. I'll only slow you down".

I was about to protest further, but Lucy butted in.

"He's right", she said. "We can't take him. For his own sake, as much as ours.
We have to find a way to leave him here with Mrs Cooper. That way, if they
find him, at least they're not likely to shoot him, and he can misdirect the
search for us".

I was a bit dismayed at her cold objectivity but, of course, she was dead
right. I admitted it.

"So, that's settled, then", Rob smirked, pleased that he had made a good
suggestion. "Go on. Get outa here".

"Soon", Lucy said. "Sean, we should try and get a car or something".

"True", I agreed. "But we can't steal one. Not from here. That would put them
right on to us. Besides, how could we do it?" Modern cars are all but
unstealable, except by the most dedicated of car thieves. The system of start
codes, which have to be entered in sequence and in a set period of seconds,
depending on make, ensures that you can't just hop in and drive away. They're
impossible to hotwire, too; any attempt will cause the batteries to go into
meltdown and the car is immobilised.

"Wait up", Sean said, fishing in his hip pocket. He came up with a small
plastic card. "Found this on one of those cops".

It was an override card, issued to certain police officers for use in the line
of duty. It would start anything. The integral code was changed at frequent
and irregular periods, but with any luck this one would still be current. I
could have kissed him.

"Well done, R ... er, Tommy. You thief", I grinned.

"Hey, man, not just a pretty face 'n' shit".

"Hang on", Lucy said. "Let's not steal anything we don't have to".

Mrs Cooper came back into the room.

"Doc's on his way. Be about a half-hour".

"That's great, Mrs Cooper. We can't thank you enough". Lucy looked at her
earnestly. "Mrs Cooper, Paul and I have to leave. We're investigative
journalists, and we have to hit our deadline". I had to smile at the way the
lies gushed convincingly from her honeyed mouth. "Do you or Mr Cooper have a
car we could borrow? We'd pay you for the loan".

"There ain't no Mr Cooper", she said without regret. "Ain't no car, neither,
'cept my pickup, and I need that for the farm".

"Oh. Well, we're sorry to have troubled you. We'll try to hitch a lift".

"Now, hold your horses, Miss Connor. I didn't say I couldn't help. I got
something, but you'll have to buy it from me. Come with me".

We followed the farmwoman outside, across a yard lit by security lights, to a
small shed. She unpadlocked it and flung open the door. Inside, an old
tarpaulin covered a shape. She dragged it off.

"There's this here motorcycle, if it's any good to you".