Wayward: A Cadence Phoenix Novel Page 8

  Cadence took a seat at the counter nearest the cash register and perused the menu. The choices were few but varying and she asked the slim waitress for a helping of clams with salad and a glass of milk. As the waitress hurried away, Cadence opened the map she’d found and started looking for anyplace she hadn’t visited before. She’d spent most of her time avoiding cities and had been as far as Ohio before the communities being closer together made her feel nervous. She preferred the wide open highways of the southwest to the cities of the north, simply because there were fewer people who could get hurt or ask questions.

  Strangely, however, there were locations marked that were unfamiliar. They also didn’t carry the same string of numbers after them as the places she’d visited, rather the unfamiliar locations bore what she recognized as Russian lettering.

  “Haven’t seen you in a long time,” a voice said. A tall man, dressed in an old-fashioned Western outfit complete with a black cowboy hat, plopped onto the stool next to her. He dropped his hat onto the counter beside him and smiled, showing a mouth full of perfect white teeth.

  “How the hell are you?” He asked.

  “I don’t know you, mister,” Cadence said, looking back at her map and hoping the strange man would get the message. He was staring at her in a way that made her uncomfortable.

  “My mistake,” he said after a moment. “Thought you were someone else.”

  He stood and moved to a booth adjacent the lunch counter and set his hat on the table while he studied the menu. Cadence had been watched enough to know that he was watching her while pretending to search for his next meal. The menu just wasn’t that interesting.

  “Could I have my meal to go, please?” She asked, tossing five dollars onto the counter.

  “Course you can, sugar,” the waitress replied.

  She quickly packaged the meal into a foam box and handed it over with a paper cup of milk that was probably bigger than the one she’d ordered.

  “Thank you,” Cadence said, taking the offered containers.

  She tried not to rush as she pushed through the glass doors and strolled back into the night. The evening had grown cooler and she could smell rain in the distance, rolling down off the mountains. It was going to storm. She’d grown to hate storms, they made her teeth ache.

  She kicked the door to her room shut with her heel and set her food on the small table in front of the window, then bolted the door and pulled the drapes, for what privacy they would provide.

  The room wasn’t big, just two beds covered with Aztec print comforters, a small television on a wooden stand, a tall cubbyhole that could be used as a closet and the bathroom. For twenty bucks a night, it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was cleaner than many she’d stayed in and didn’t smell of cigarette smoke or old socks, which was a bonus.

  She took a seat at the table and sprinkled her meal with salt before digging in. As the first bite hit her mouth, she realized she hadn’t eaten all day, not since the meat pie she’d devoured as breakfast. It had been almost twelve hours behind the wheel with only a stop for gas and a soda, to get her as far from Blackberry as possible.

  The meal was delicious, better than she’d expected from an off-strip motel restaurant. The salad was fresh and though it was mostly iceberg lettuce, it satisfied. The clams and the small side of fries the waitress had added were even better, and she ate them without pause. When she finished, she sat back in the rickety chair and sipped from her cup of milk, which had a slight ashy taste from the paper carton it had come from. Who had the strange man been? Was he working with the Men in Black or was he someone else? There was something strangely familiar about that smile and pencil-thin mustache.

  She didn’t think he was with them, not really. For one, all of the Men in Black had been pale skinned with Russian accents, which didn’t match the strange man in the cowboy hat. They’d also never tried walking up to her and starting a conversation, they stuck to the shadows and tried to snatch her in secret. It wasn’t their M.O., and she thought he must be someone else, perhaps one of the people who had kidnapped her.

  The storm she’d expected hit as she was finishing her milk, a mix of rain and constant thunder that shook the windows and made the door creak. She peeked out through the gap between the drapes and saw hail pelting the window and sidewalk outside. She watched the icy stones as they bounced off the glass, each one making a ‘plink’ noise before vanishing out of sight. There was something menacing about that noise, like fingers tapping on glass. It made her shudder and she moved away from the drapes to turn on the television. Even a stupid sitcom would be better than that noise. She selected one, something about being married, and sat on the end of the bed, not really watching the show, just letting the laugh track drown out the storm. After a time, she curled into a ball on the bed, pulled part of the covers over her head and drifted to sleep. For once, she didn’t dream.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The roll of thunder woke her just after midnight. The storm had reached a peak so high the windows were shaking, the door was rattling on its hinges and a puddle was growing on the carpet from rain flowing underneath.

  Cadence slid off the bed and went to the bathroom where she splashed cold water on her face. The shock brought her to full wakefulness and she dried off with a white cotton towel before returning to the living area. She pulled back the drapes and looked out into the storm. The trees outside were blowing, rain was coming down in sheets and the lightning was so bright she could see all the way to the mountains.

  In the parking lot below, she could see her Mustang and a handful of other vehicles, including the motorcycle parked next to her car. A man was standing in the lot, dressed in a long coat and an oversized hat with a wide brim. He was on one knee, touching the pavement with his fingers as if searching for something.

  “We gotta go, CJ,” a voice said.

  Cadence whirled and brought up her shield. Standing in the shadows by the closet was the strange man she’d seen in the restaurant. He was taller than she’d thought and wore a low-slung gun rig around his hips. He clutched what looked like a hand of poker, the cards glowing in the darkness.

  “How did you get in here?” Cadence asked.

  The man shrugged and slipped the cards into the deck in his other hand. “I walked. Come on, kid, we don’t have time for this. That tracker is looking for you, he’s been following you since Abilene.”

  “What the hell do you mean ‘I walked?’ I don’t know you, mister, and this is my room. Is there an adjoining door or something?”

  “Cut it out! That storm isn’t going to slow him for long,” the man replied.

  He stepped closer, almost touching her shield. “Put that thing away and get your stuff.”

  Cadence was perplexed. She’d never seen this man in her life, she’d remember a six-foot cowboy who looked like he’d fallen out of the Wild Wild West, especially one who seemed to be able to walk through walls.

  “You know me? I mean, how do you know me?” She asked.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” He asked, stepping back. He pushed his hat up with one finger and sank onto the bed. “You’re not kidding.”

  “No, I’m not kidding. Are you with them?”

  The man blinked in surprise. “With Specter? Of course not. I’m Ethan, we’ve known each other since 1943. I admit, you look good for your age, but−”

  Understanding dawned and Cadence cut him off. “You must have known my grandmother or something, not me. Who are you?”

  Ethan looked unconvinced. His eyes narrowed and he scratched the narrow beard clinging to his chin. “Your mother’s name was Jessica, your grandmother was called Giulia and your name is Cadence, as unlikely as that is as a name.”

  “You can’t have known me in 1943, I’m eighteen years old. You haven’t answered my question, Ethan,” Cadence said. “Who are you?”


  He stood and straightened his hat. “As you wish. My name is Ethan Crawford, I’m a Specialist from the Order of Merlin. I knew your grandmother, if you insist, we fought together in the war.”

  He looked good for a guy who must have been pushing seventy. She wouldn’t have guessed he was a day over forty.

  “You can explain all of that later. What about the tracker?” She asked.

  Ethan brushed past her and looked out the window. “He’s a hybrid, been following you for weeks now. I caught wind he was hunting you out New Mexico way but never thought he would find you. Did you decide to take a holiday or something?”

  Cadence began packing her backpack. “I took a job. I’m not made out of money, you know.”

  Ethan gave her a look. “You took a job, for pay? Working for someone else?”

  “That’s what people do when they need money, Ethan. What do you do, rob a stagecoach on its way to Tombstone?”

  “Poker, its as honest a trade as any and it’s faster than labor,” Ethan replied. “If your granny knew you took a job, she’d roll over in her grave.”

  “You can teach me to play cards later. Where’s the tracker?”

  “Behind the restaurant, I laid a fake trail for him but it won’t distract him long,” Ethan replied. “We should go.”

  He threw a card at the wall and it opened up, like an Escher painting in reverse. In the gap was a black portal from which the smell of rain on pavement emanated. Ethan stepped into the opening and extended a hand.

  “You coming or staying?”

  Cadence took his hand and allowed herself to be pulled through. In the blink of an eye, they were standing on the rain-swept pavement behind her car. She popped the trunk and tossed her gear inside, trying not to think about the fact they’d crossed sixty or seventy feet with two steps.

  “Is the bike yours?” She asked.

  “Kind of,” Ethan replied, tossing his own backpack into the Mustang’s trunk. “It will be fine, let’s get out of here.”

  The Mustang started smoothly and Cadence backed it out of the spot while Ethan was still searching the car for something.

  “Well?” He asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

  “Well what?” Cadence asked. “What are you looking for?”

  “Seatbelts?”

  Cadence laughed. “She doesn’t have any, too old.”

  Ethan turned and sank into his seat. “Greatest invention of the generation, the seatbelt. Saved my life a time or two.”

  “I didn’t see a helmet with your bike,” Cadence replied.

  Ethan grinned. “Ruins my hat.”

  “But you want a seatbelt in a car? Does that make sense to you?” Cadence asked, turning the car toward the center of town.

  “I don’t like cars much, kid. Too confining, it’s like a rolling coffin. Seatbelts can make sure you don’t end up trapped in it.”

  “Or cut your arm off like the drummer in Def Leppard.”

  Ethan looked puzzled. “What does a leopard have to do with anything? Did he get mauled?”

  Cadence stopped the car for a traffic light and looked at the strange man beside her. He looked every bit the Wild West villain, yet she trusted him on some instinctual level. He was still weird, though. Who didn’t know Def Leppard?

  “No, it’s a band. Their drummer lost his arm in an accident, the seatbelt cut it off or something,” she said.

  Ethan made a face. “I bet he’s still alive, though. Not buried in the car. Light’s green.”

  The city was dead this late at night, though Reno tried to be a Little Las Vegas, it wasn’t except during the tourist season when Tahoe was busy. Tourists came through Reno to get up the mountains to the resort town. This time of year it was almost dead, there wasn’t a single car in sight.

  She drove slowly, her thoughts on all Ethan had said. Now she was on the move and apparently safe from the strange tracker, she had time to think about what she’d learned. It was a lot to try and make sense of.

  “Where am I going?” She asked as she drove.

  “I thought you knew,” Ethan replied, rolling the window down an inch.

  “I had planned to try and get a gig here in Reno, do some research at the library and stay off the radar,” Cadence replied.

  Ethan shook his head. “Bad idea, kid. As long as that tracker is in action, you’re not safe in one place. You should keep moving.”

  “Why is he tracking me? What did I do to these people?” Cadence asked.

  “Nothing. Not one damn thing, CJ. But you’re special and they know it. Specter has been kidnapping children with special talents since the fifties, God knows what for. Some are seen again, others not so much,” Ethan said.

  “But I’m not special, okay sure I’m smart and can make a shield thing−”

  “You can make a shield, you’re tougher, smarter and faster than most people, you’ve got a scream that can rip flesh off of bone and you can see ghosts, right?” Ethan said, cutting her off.

  “How did you know?” Cadence said.

  Ethan shrugged. “Abilities run in families, especially after the MK program. Your grandmother had similar abilities.”

  That was something, at least. She wasn’t a freak, there were others and it ran in her family. It was a comforting thought. For a long time she’d wondered if the reason she’d been abandoned was because of her abilities.

  “Okay, I’ve heard of the MK program, what’s Specter? Some kind of freaky Bond villain?”

  “You’re not that far off,” Ethan replied. “They’re an offshoot of the KGB created after the war to hunt people like you. Us. They believe that special individuals will win the next World War, and they want to weigh things in their favor.”

  “How many of us are there?”

  Ethan looked away and began fumbling in his pockets. “No one really knows. Originally, just a handful with random abilities, not much suited for war.”

  He pulled a tobacco pouch and papers out of his pocket and started rolling a cigarette. Cadence watched him for a moment then pulled into the parking lot of a pancake house that looked like it was still open.

  “Then what happened? The MK Alpha program?”

  Ethan stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it with a snap of his fingers. He didn’t speak until he’d taken a deep drag and exhaled it through the crack in the window.

  “I don’t really know, it was before I was involved. I just know it had something to do with the woman who looked like you, and her mother,” Ethan replied.

  He was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. Cadence could tell by the set of his jaw and the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. A few meetings with record executives and lies became very easy to spot. She debated pushing the issue, but he’d saved her life and knew who she was, or at least where she came from. It would be better to keep him around and let him provide what information he could. She could push later.

  “Alright,” she said at last. “One more question and then I’m buying breakfast. What’s my last name?”

  Ethan made a face and crushed his cigarette out in the palm of his hand. “What are you using now?”

  “Phoenix,” Cadence replied. “My adopted father’s name.”

  “Keep it,” Ethan replied, opening the door. “I need some java.”

  The pancake house was quiet this late at night, or early depending on your preference. It was bigger than it looked from the outside, with yellow walls, yellow vinyl seats and a u-shaped meal counter in the middle in front of a wide griddle manned by an older woman in a hair net and yellow uniform. Two men sat in a corner booth drinking coffee and talking in the hushed voices of those who worked the late shift, otherwise, the place was empty. Cadence took a booth on the opposite side of the restaurant and picked up the menu.
Dinner seemed like a long time ago, and her stomach was growling.

  Ethan hung his hat on the end of the booth and glanced toward the restrooms. “Going to wash up, order me a black java and some flapjacks, side of ham, please.”

  He tossed a small wad of cash onto the table and strode away, his boots thumping on the hard-tiled floor. Cadence could tell he was watching the two men as he passed, then vanished into the back. She looked at the two men, who seemed to have paid him no attention and looked back at the menu. She wanted everything, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this hungry.

  “Whatcha havin’ darlin’?” The waitress asked. She was short and thin, with red hair and a sprinkle of freckles on her nose.

  “He wants a tall stack with a side of Candian bacon and a coffee, black. I’ll have the same with a short stack,” Cadence replied.

  “Gotcha, be just a sec,” the waitress replied.

  She wandered off to the kitchen and Ethan reappeared, shuffling his cards in one hand. He slid into the booth opposite Cadence and set the cards on the table.

  “No sign of the hybrid, I think we’re safe, for now,” he said.

  “Good to know,” Cadence replied. It was odd, she’d never met this man before, but she trusted him, like a big brother or perhaps a close, long time friend. It couldn’t be because they’d known each other before, he’d mentioned the war, which was impossible, she’d only been fifteen when he would have known her. Still, there was something familiar about him, a déjà vu that made the hair stand up on her neck. Somehow, she knew this man.

  “You’re staring,” Ethan said with a lopsided smile. “Trying to see my soul?”