The Chemist by Stephenie Meyer
Even with the cot, it was an easy load to take up the stairs. She went back for one of the duffel bags, this one containing her basic lab gear. She shouldn't waste the downtime when she could be prepping. As she passed the master bedroom, she heard squabbling, and the sound made her happy to be out of the way of it.
The lab setup was a quick process after so much practice. One of her glass flasks was chipped, but it looked like it was still usable. She pieced her rotary evaporator together and then laid out a few condensers and two stainless-steel vessels. She'd used almost all of her Survive, and the way this week was going, she would probably need more. She had plenty of D-phenylalanine, but she was disappointed when she checked on her opioid store. Less than she'd thought. Not enough to synthesize more Survive, and she had only one dose left.
She was still scowling at her lack of supplies when she heard Kevin calling up the stairs.
"Hey, Oleander. Ticktock."
By the time she got through the front door, Kevin was already in the sedan, Daniel in the passenger seat. When Kevin spotted her hesitating on the porch, he held the horn down for one annoyingly long blast. She walked as slowly as possible to the car and climbed into the backseat with a frown--dog hair was going to get all over her.
They drove along the same slender dirt lane out through the gate and a few miles farther before turning onto an even less pronounced road that headed in a mostly westerly direction. This road was nothing more than two tire tracks worn into the grass. They followed it for about six or seven miles, she guessed. For the first few miles, she caught glimpses of the ranch's fence line, but after that, they were too far west for her to see it anymore.
"Is this your land, too?"
"Yes, after passing through a few other names. This parcel is owned by a corporation that is not affiliated in any way with the parcel the ranch is on. I do know how to do this, you know."
"Of course."
The landscape started to change on her right. The yellow-white grass cut off at a strangely even border and beyond that, the ground turned to level, bare red dirt. When they started to wind back to the north toward that border, she was surprised to see that the red dirt was actually a riverbank. The water was the same color as the red bank, and it moved smoothly west, without rapids or obstacles. It was about forty feet across at the widest point she could see. She watched the flow of the water as they drove roughly parallel to it, fascinated by its existence here in the middle of the dry grassland. For all its smooth progress, the river seemed to be moving fairly quickly.
There was no fence this time. A crumbling-down barn, grayed by the sun, sat about fifty yards from the road, looking as if it had reached the end of its very long life and was only waiting for the right weather system to put it out of its misery. She'd seen hundreds just like it on their quick tour through Arkansas and Oklahoma.
It was nowhere near as nice as her milking barn.
Kevin turned toward it, driving right through the grass now; she couldn't see any official road or pathway.
She waited in the running car while he jumped out to unlock the massive antique padlock and swing the doors open. Outside, in the brilliant light of the open, cloudless sky, it was impossible to see anything inside the murky interior. He was back quickly to drive the car into the darkness.
This time, the inside matched the outside's promise. Dim light filtered through the slats of the barn to illuminate piles of corroded farm equipment, most of a rusted tractor, the shells of a few ancient cars, and a massive stack of dusty hay in the back, half covered with a tarp. Nothing worth stealing, or even examining more closely. If anyone bothered to break in here, the only valuable thing he would find was shade.
When the engine cut off, she thought she could just make out the rush of the river. They couldn't be more than a couple hundred yards away from it.
"This will work," she said. "I'll stick my stuff in a corner and you can use this car when you head back."
"Roger that."
She piled her four rectangular duffels into a shadowy crevice, partially hidden behind a stack of spiderwebbed firewood. The webs were dusty.
Kevin was rummaging near a pile of blackened metal--maybe parts for another tractor--and came back with a tattered old tarp, which he spread over her bags.
"Nice touch," she approved.
"It's all in the presentation."
"I guess you haven't gotten around to fixing this place up yet," Daniel commented, one hand on the closest car shell.
"I kind of like it how it is," Kevin said. "Let me give you a tour. Just in case you need something while I'm gone. Which you won't. But still."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Overpreparation is the key to success. It's kind of my mantra."
"Then you'll love this," Kevin said.
He walked to the half-tractor and bent down to fiddle with the lug nuts in the center of the huge flat tire.
"There's a keypad behind this hubcap." He spoke directly to Daniel. "The code is our birthday. Not too original, but I wanted you to be able to remember it easily. Same combination for the lock on the outside door."
A second later, the entire front face of the tire swung outward--it wasn't made of rubber, it was something stiffer and lighter, and it moved on hinges. Inside, an arsenal.
"Oh, yes," she breathed. "Batcave."
She immediately spotted a SIG Sauer that matched the gun she'd briefly stolen from him. He really didn't need two.
Kevin gave her a puzzled look. "Batman doesn't use guns."
"Whatever."
Daniel was examining the hinges on the hidden door. "This is very clever. Did Arnie make it?"
"No, I did, thanks."
"I didn't know you were handy. And when did you have the chance to do this, what with toppling cartels and all that?"
"Downtime between jobs. I can't sit still or I go crazy."
He closed up the fake tire and then gestured to the car shell near where Daniel had been standing before. "Lift the top of the battery and type in the same code. That one's rifles, the next is rocket launchers and grenades."
Daniel laughed, then caught his brother's expression. "Wait, really?"
"She likes preparation; I like to be extremely well armed. Okay, now, this one I couldn't hide so well, and anyway, it's the kind of thing I might need quickly."
Kevin walked around the side of the massive hay tower, and they followed. The tarp hung to the ground on this side. She was pretty confident she knew at least the category of what he was hiding here, and sure enough, he lifted the tarp to reveal a cozy garage behind the hay with a very large vehicle wedged inside. From the way he stood, it was obviously his pride and joy.
"There's a truck back at the ranch that blends in, but this is here in case of emergencies."
Daniel made a small noise like a hiccup. Alex glanced at him and realized he was trying not to laugh. She got the joke immediately.
They had both dealt with DC traffic for years, though he more recently. And despite the congestion and tight parking options that were more suited for a Vespa than a medium-size sedan, there was always that one guy trying to shove his gigantic compensation-mobile into a parallel slot. As if anyone needed a Hummer anywhere, let alone in the city. You might as well just get a vanity plate that read D-BAG and be done with it.
When Daniel saw her mouth twitch, he lost his own control. Suddenly he was snorting with laughter. It was an awkward, infectious heh-heh-snort-heh-heh that was much funnier than the military monster truck. She started chortling along, surprised at how out of control the laughter felt almost immediately. She hadn't laughed big like this in so long; she'd forgotten how it grabbed your whole body and wouldn't let go.
Daniel had one hand on the hay while he bent over, the other hand on his side like he had a stitch. It was the funniest thing she'd ever seen.
"What?" Kevin demanded. "What?"
Daniel tried to calm himself to answer, but then a sudden burst of giggles from Alex derailed him, and he guff
"This is a state-of-the-art assault vehicle," Kevin complained, half shouting to be heard over their frenzied hilarity. "It has solid rubber tires and missile-proof glass. There are panels through the whole body that a tank can't crush. This thing could save your life."
He was just making it worse. Tears streamed down both their faces. Alex's lip was protesting and her cheeks ached. Daniel was hiccupping for real now, unable to straighten up.
Kevin threw up his hands in disgust and stomped away from them.
They busted up again.
Finally, several long minutes after Kevin had disappeared, Alex started to be able to breathe. Daniel's laughter was trailing off as well, though he was still holding his side. She could sympathize; she had a cramp, too. Oddly exhausted, she sat down on the hay-strewn floor and put her head between her knees, working to even out her breathing. After a second, she felt Daniel settle next to her. His hand came to rest lightly on her back.
"Ah, I needed that." He sighed. "It was starting to feel like nothing would ever be really funny again."
"I can't remember the last time I laughed like that. My stomach hurts."
"Mine too." And then he laughed another heh-heh-heh.
"Don't start," she begged.
"Sorry, I'll try. I might be a little hysterical."
"Huh. Maybe we should slap each other."
He laughed another burst, and she couldn't help but giggle.
"Stop," she moaned.
"Should we talk about sad things?" he wondered.
"Like living a life of isolation and fear, hunted every minute of the day?" she suggested.
It felt like the murky barn got even darker, and she immediately regretted speaking. Even if it hurt, it had felt so nice to laugh.
"That's a good one," Daniel said quietly. "How about letting down all the people who count on you?"
"Doesn't really apply for me, but it's definitely a depressing idea. Though in your case, I doubt anyone will look at it that way. They'll probably think you've been murdered. Everyone will be heartbroken and they'll leave flowers and candles in front of the school marquee."
"Do you think they will?"
"Sure. There will probably even be teddy bears."
"Maybe. Or maybe no one will miss me. Maybe they'll say, 'Finally, we got rid of that joker and now we can hire a real history teacher. The girls' volleyball team might actually have a chance with him out of the way. You know what? Let's just find a chimp to do his job and put his salary into the retirement fund.'"
She nodded with false gravity. "You could be right."
He smiled, then was serious again. "Did anyone burn candles for you?"
"There wasn't really anyone left to care. If Barnaby had been the one to survive, he might have lit a candle for me. I did a few times for him, in cathedrals. I'm not Catholic, but I couldn't figure out another place where I could do it inconspicuously. I know Barnaby's not around to care, but I needed something. Closure, mourning, whatever."
A pause. "Did you love him?"
"Yes. Aside from my work--and you've seen how warm and cuddly that was--he was all I had."
Daniel nodded. "Well, I don't feel like laughing anymore."
"We probably needed the release. Now we can get back to our regularly scheduled depression."
"Sounds lovely."
"Hey, Moe and Curly," Kevin called from outside the barn. "Are you ready to get back to work, or do you want to giggle like schoolgirls a little while longer?"
"Um, giggle, I guess?" Daniel called back.
She couldn't help it--she snickered.
Daniel put his hand gently over her bruised mouth. "None of that, now. We'd better go see what work there is to do."
CHAPTER 13
Kevin kept a firing range set up behind the barn, facing the river. Alex eyed it suspiciously, but she had to concede that random gunshots were probably less likely to arouse attention in rural Texas than anywhere else in the world.
"When's the last time you picked up a gun?" he asked Daniel.
"Hmm... with Dad, I guess."
"Seriously?" Kevin heaved a sigh. "Well, I suppose all we can do is hope you remember something."
He'd brought out an array of weapons and laid them on a hay bale. Other hay bales, each stacked to a man's height and wearing printed black silhouettes, were arranged at varying distances from their position. Some were so far off she could barely make them out.
"We could start with the handguns, but what I'd like is to try you on some rifles. The best way to stay safe is to be shooting from very, very far away. I'd rather keep you out of the close-up stuff if I can."
"These don't look like any rifles I've ever used," Daniel said.
"They're snipers. This one"--he patted the McMillan he wore slung across his back--"has the record for the longest distance kill at over one mile."
Daniel's eyes widened in disbelief. "How do you even know who you want to kill from that far away?"
"Spotters, but don't worry about that. You don't need to learn that kind of distance. I just want you to be able to sit in a perch and pick people off if it comes to that."
"I don't know if I could actually shoot a person."
It was Kevin's turn to look disbelieving. "You'd better figure that out. Because if you don't shoot, the person coming sure as hell won't hesitate to take advantage."
Daniel seemed about to argue, but Kevin waved the mini-conflict away. "Look, let's just see if you can remember how to shoot a gun."
After Kevin reviewed the basics, it was evident that Daniel did remember plenty. He took to the rifle with much more instinctive ease than Alex had ever felt with firearms. He was clearly a natural, while she never had been.
After enough rounds were fired for her to get over the fear of all the noise, she lifted the SIG Sauer.
"Hey, do you mind if I try this out on the closer targets?"
"Sure," Kevin said, not looking up from his brother's sight line. "Join the party."
The SIG was heavier than her PPK and had a more substantial kick, but in a way that felt good. Powerful. It took her a few rounds to get used to the sight, but then she was about as accurate with it as she was with her own gun. She thought that with time, she would get better. Maybe she'd be able to get in some consistent practice while she was here. It wasn't the kind of thing she usually got to indulge in.
When Kevin put an end to the shooting instruction, the sun was almost all the way down. It colored all the yellow grass deep red, as if it were actually touching down on the horizon and setting all the dried brush ablaze.
Reluctantly, she put the SIG away with the other guns. It wasn't as if she didn't know the code. She might do some stocking up when Kevin's party was over.
"Well, Danny, it's good to see you've still got it... and that my talent isn't just a fluke. Mom and Dad passed us some solid genes," Kevin said when they were heading back to the house.
"For target practice. I still don't think I could do what you do."
Kevin snorted. "Things change when someone is trying to kill you."
Daniel looked out his side window, clearly unconvinced.
"Okay." Kevin sighed. "Think of it this way. Imagine someone you want to protect--Mom, for example--is standing behind you. Some new recruits need to visualize in order to get themselves in the right frame of mind."
"That doesn't really fit with shooting from a sniper's perch," Daniel pointed out.
"Then picture Mom getting stuffed into the trunk of a car by the guy in your crosshairs. Use your imagination."
Daniel was done. "Fine, fine."
She could tell he still wasn't persuaded, but she had to agree with Kevin on this one topic. When someone came for you, your survival instincts kicked in. In a him-or-you situation, you always chose yourself. Daniel wouldn't know how that felt until the hunters caught up with him. She hoped he'd never have to learn the feeling.
Well, Kevin would do what he co
Back at the ranch, the tour continued. Kevin took them to a sleek modern outbuilding, invisible from the front of the house and full of dogs.
Each animal had a climate-controlled stall and access to its own private outdoor run. Kevin explained the exercise schedule to Daniel, which dogs were already spoken for and which were ready to be listed, training him for his future life at the ranch, she assumed. Daniel seemed to love it, petting all the dogs and learning their names. The dogs adored the attention--and asked for it; she wished she could turn down the volume of the barks and whines. The dogs who ran loose were apparently graduates of the program; these followed Kevin on the rounds.
Alex suspected Kevin had let her tag along just to make her uncomfortable. The horse-size spotted one--a Great Dane, she learned--was constantly on her heels, and she was sure the dog hadn't decided to do that on his own. Kevin must have given some unseen command. She could feel the giant's breath on the nape of her neck, and guessed there were probably flecks of saliva on the back of her shirt. The hound dog was tailing her, too, but she thought he might have chosen the assignment for himself. He was still milking those sad eyes every time Alex glanced at him. The other graduates circled Daniel and Kevin, except for Einstein, who stuck close to Kevin only and seemed to take troop inspections very seriously.
They passed stalls with German shepherds, Dobermans, Rottweilers, and several other working-group dogs she didn't know names for. Alex kept to the middle of the long pathway between kennels and didn't touch anything. Always best to minimize the number of fingerprints for wiping down later.
There were two small hound puppies sharing a stall, and Kevin mentioned to Daniel that they were Lola's offspring, gesturing to the bloodhound tailing Alex.