Chapter 11: Chapter 11: The Wagon

Will winced when he saw Chleo led out of the Shack.  He was hoping they wouldn’t find her.  Then again the Shack was small… there weren’t many places to hide.  The man with large ears had Chleo’s arm in a bruising grip.  His parter walked beside him, her dull eyes sweeping the area for danger as she avoided snagging the skirts of her dress on errant pieces of junk.  Their D.I.M. jackets flared menacingly as they walked, the torchlight flickering off of the dark fabric.

Chleo and the agents were halfway to the wagon when Will spotted it.  Something… a shadow at best, huddled behind one of the junk piles.  Will stared at it trying to make it out.  At once it moved, a figure, light and lithe, melted out into the open.  Will’s eyes widened in surprise.  It was a person.  She was small.  She was familiar.  The hood over her head helped him place her immediately, the woman from Joe’s.  His heart beat in anticipation.  

The woman snuck closer to the group, gliding across the grass.  Will watched, eyes tracking her progress.  The agent holding Chleo took one look at him and knew.  He spun, drawing his sidearm.  Two shots fired.  The figure dropped flinging an arm out as she rolled behind a nearby pile.  There was a slight buzz in the air before the agent with dull hair dropped in a pile of skirts and petticoats with nothing but a D.I.M. jacket to hold it all together.

Chleo’s captor wrapped his hand in her hair and held her as a shield, his gun pointed over her shoulder.  

“Come out,” he shouted.  No one came.  The agent hesitated, then twisted his sidearm into Chleo’s neck. “Come out, or I’ll get rid of the girl.  No one will mourn one more dead relo-rat.”

Will’s chest heaved.  No sane person would leave cover after a D.I.M. agent drew their weapon.   He huddled against the wagon willing his face blank.  Chleo was about to die.  

The Mathews were his family, not by blood, by choice.  When his own turned him away, they took him in.  They fed him, gave him the clothes on his back, and taught him how to live a life worth living.  He was about to lose all of them in one night.  His hand twitched, wanting to do something, his cuffs clicking against the railing he was attached to.  He tried to focus.  There had to be something he could do.

“I’ll mourn,” the woman said, her soft voice drifting through the junk.  Chleo yelped as the man’s hand jerked in her hair.  She bit her lip trying not to make another sound, trying to avoid attention.

The woman stepped into the open, hands raised.  Will’s eyes widened, his surprise breaking through his mask.  Bad move, what was she thinking?  He’d kill them both now.  The agent aimed.  The woman charged.  The agent fired.  The gun blasted as she tackled them out of sight.

Will sprang forward straining against the cuffs tying him to the wagon.  He still couldn’t see what was happening.  There was silence, a whistle, a buzz, then nothing.

“Chleo,” he shouted. He pulled harder at the rope.

“Chleo,” he shouted again.  No one answered.

The trees rustled behind him, but he refused to look away.  He felt a presence more than heard it.  Someone was behind him.  He glanced from the corner of his eye, but nothing more.  Chleo needed to walk out from behind the pile.  He needed to see her walk out from behind the pile.  

She would walk out, and they would run.   There was a perfectly good wagon he was attached to, maybe he could talk her into stealing it.  They would take it and go save her parents from the Scorps, but she had to come out first.  She had to.

Strong arms grabbed Will from behind.  He felt like a sack of potatoes as they lifted and tossed him in the back of the wagon.  He struggled to his knees following the arms to their owner.  It was Muscles.  Will watched through wary, blank eyes as the familiar hooded figure climbed in behind him.  The man reached for his cuffs, only years worth of lessons kept will from flicking away, and ripped them apart with one yank.  Will was free from the rail.  

He paused.  Should he run?    

The wagon groaned as the last figure from Joe’s climbed into the driver’s seat.  He extinguished the lamps, leaving the agents’ dropped torches to light the junk piles. 

Not without Chleo.

“Eelock, do you think you should-” Muscles, er, Will remembered the phantom voice calling the man Merk, started.

“The light would lead them straight to us,” the driver interrupted. “Mic can guide us.”

“Ay ay, Cap,” Merk said next to Will, shooting a mock salute to the front.

“Dai, it’s time to go,” the driver, Eelock, muttered into the darkness.  There was a pause.  Chleo and the hooded figure rushed out from behind the pile.  She looked pale in the torch light, scared.  They sprinted the short distance to the wagon and vaulted into the back.  Chleo went directly to Will’s side.  

“Sorry about that,” the small figure said with a laugh, “just a little technical difficulty.”

Will shot a questioning look at Chleo. “Technical?” he mouthed the unfamiliar word.  Her eyes closed and jaw clenched.  She gave a small shake of her head.  Concerned, he dropped it.

Pulling her into a one-armed hug, he rested his chin atop her head.  Only once, he could remember being that scared, another time from another life.  Both were too close. 

Eelock misted the pipes and steamed up.  The wagon jerked into motion.  They started down the path, branches scratching as they went.

Twice the wagon slowed while Eelock tried to determine the path in the filtered planet light.  Will caught Chleo tossing furtive looks toward the small hooded figure opposite them.  What happened behind that junk pile?

The wagon veered off the walkway, breaking through a line of shrubs into a clearing.  Eelock braked and cut the emergency steam line. The whirs and bubbles from the engine gave a few last burbles then quieted.  They sat in silence, the sounds of the forest chirping to life after a few minutes.

“Why did we stop?” Will whispered looking out into the darkness.

“The view,” Merk said.  Will could barely make out his smirk in the dark. “Or, I suppose, the lack there of.”

The woman’s hood rustled as she shook her head with a soft indulgent smile.  “Mic spotted some wagons starting up the path,” she said, blending her voice with the rustling trees.  “We’re going to wait for them to pass.” 

Chleo flinched into his side.  He studied the top of her head as she burrowed into his shoulder.  Was she afraid of D.I.M. or the woman?

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Wait, Mic.

“The phantom voice,” Will muttered to himself.  The last person to see Mrs. Mathews.  They needed to find him. “Who’s Mic?” he asked a bit louder. “How do you know he spotted the wagons?”

The woman started to answer.

“Magic,” Muscles… er, Merk cut in. “Now, quiet.”

The first branch scraped wood in the distance.  Will snapped his mouth shut.  

Who were they?  Things didn’t add up.  The group knew Mrs. Mathews.  There was no use denying it anymore.  They were at the Shack for a reason.

He felt Chleo tug on his lapel as the scraping grew closer.

Mic was a complete mystery.  How were they talking to him?  If they wanted to find Mrs. Mathews, he was their only lead.  There were too many questions.

Chleo tugged again.

Their clothes were strange, even for relos.  Most who moved to Luna worked to blend in as quickly as possible.  It made it easier to avoid the stigma.  Maybe they didn’t bother because they weren’t staying, so not relos… off-worlders.

They were off-worlders.  Will went cold.  Were they the reason D.I.M. was after Chleo?

A branch scratched something nearby.  Chleo leaned up, pressing her lips against his ear.  “Your pocket,” she breathed.

Will’s eyes shot down.  It was glowing.  A greenish light strained through the fabric.  He pulled out the watch Mrs. Mathews gave him for Lux Diem.  Green lit the wagon, peaking out from under the watch’s cover.

“Cover it,” Merk growled, crossing the wagon’s bed in seconds.  He snatched the watch out of Will’s hand and sat on it in one fluid motion.  Only hints of green were left, lighting the floorboards.  

“Effective,” the hooded woman whispered with a chuckle.

“Shut it,” Merk said rolling his eyes.

“That’s what it does?” Will whispered in disbelief. “Your mom gave me a watch that glows?”  He turned accusing eyes on Chleo.

She shook her head, placing a finger to her lips.

Will pressed his lips together and leaned back, crossing his arms.  How could a glowing green light make him tick?  Mrs. Mathews knew everyone.  She must have had a reason… but come on.

The scraping on the path paused.  There was a soft hiss as the others held their breath.  Will steadied his breathing and focused on remaining blank. 

The driver’s lamps from the passing wagons filtered through the leaves.  Will spotted pieces of the D.I.M stamp between the shrubs.  The sounds of scrapes and scratches started again. Steam hissed and motors gargled as they passed.  There were at least three wagons.

After a few minutes, the group let out a collective breath. Will rolled his eyes.  

“Can I have my watch back, please?” he asked, voice neutral, polished.

“Sure thing, kid,” Merk said, grabbing it from under his butt and passing it over.  It was conveniently back to normal, no glow in sight.  “Keep an eye on it.  We can’t have it giving us away.”

Will nodded.  “Thanks,” he said suppressing a grimace.

“I wonder how she got it to glow like that,” Chleo said.

Why would she get it to glow like that? He corrected in his head.  His face must not have been as blank as he thought because Chleo pinched his arm.

“Mom made your Twist for a reason,” she scolded. “We just need to find how it works.”

Eelock steamed the engine to life and pulled them back onto the path.

Chleo was right.  There was always a reason.  They just had to find it.

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