AT NIGHT, the Dentora Region's main highway was the perfect set-up for a horror movie. It was flanked by endless miles of thick, looming evergreens. With barely any high-mast lighting, the Woman had to use her high beams. She was reminded of that one urban legend about the serial killer in the backseat.
That was a dangerous line of thought, considering the circumstances.
The Woman shifted a little in her seat -- a mistake -- and let out a wheezing gasp at the sudden pain radiating from her ribcage. She tightened her hands around the rental car's steering wheel to distract herself, but the motion irritated the deep gashes on her arms.
A cheerful, tinny tune suddenly filled the car and the Woman flinched. Her ribcage ached sharply in protest. She snatched her phone from the cup holder and answered the call.
"Angels Overseas," the Woman gritted out. She couldn't begin to guess how many broken ribs she had.
"Ah, I'm glad I caught you!" Her boss greeted. "You successfully extracted the little one, I assume?"
With great difficulty, the Woman moved her eyes to the rearview mirror. A small, shadowed figure lay motionless in the back.
"Yeah, I have her," said the Woman. A pair of snowflakes flew out of the gloom and landed on the windshield. She flicked the wipers on. "But I need time off after this one. I can barely move."
On the other end, her boss laughed heartily. "She gave you a hard time? The new tranquilizer didn't help?"
"One dose did jack shit. I had to use three-quarters of the stash before she finally passed out."
"I did say this was a special case, doll. I thought you liked those."
The Woman was a pro-Hunter; very little could rattle her. Tonight, she found out what the 'very little' entailed.
"Your 'special cases' aren't usually wild animals," the Woman said. Either blood or sweat slipped languidly down her temple.
The job had started normally -- extracting a three-year-old girl from a crime family was nothing new. The girl had been traveling in a car with a trio of bodyguards; when the Woman blew out one of their tires, the car made a decent attempt to lose her. They failed, and the bodyguards put up a good fight. The Woman killed them in the end, as she always did.
The biggest problem turned out to be the girl.
"Are you scared?" The Woman's boss asked amusedly, as if they were children daring each other to go into the haunted house at a carnival.
She glanced in the rearview mirror again. No movement in the back.
The Woman was paid to take kids away from their families, often without the families' consent, and the kids rarely went with her quietly. She'd experienced all manners of crying and tiny punches. But she would never forget the beastly screams that left this girl's throat once she realized the Woman was there to take her.
"Scared I might die from my injuries?" The Woman tried to joke. The gashes on her shoulders were bad. Her broken ribs could puncture her lungs at any time. "Oh, definitely. I'm going straight to the ER after I hand the kid off to Jones."
As exhausted as the Woman was, she couldn't suppress a shiver at the memory of the girl's hard, unyielding limbs, how she twisted and thrashed in ways that weren't humanly possible, even for trained combatants, how the girl's nails sharpened to claws, leaving the Woman's body blooming red with pain, and how a handful of kicks had shattered the Woman's ribs.
The girl's eyes had been obsidian-black and hateful. Soulless. A creature's eyes.
"No time for the ER, I'm afraid," her boss said, abruptly sober. "I already purchased a plane ticket in your name. Once you hand the girl off to Jones at the airport, get on your flight. Forget about the rental car."
Any semblance of composure the Woman had mustered up flew out the window. "Why?" She asked as calmly as she could.
The stray snowflakes had turned into a steady snowfall. In the back, the small figure's presence was heavy and stifling. Never before had the Woman felt like an unconscious child's prey. But prey could run; there was no running from the thing in the backseat.
"What's your ETA?" Her boss asked.
"I'm fifteen minutes out from Parasta. What's the rush? The families usually let twenty-four hours pass before they raise a fuss about the missing kid."
"Not this family," her boss said gravely. "Very soon, they will realize the car carrying their daughter never returned. You don't want to be in the Dentora Region when that happens."
The Woman swallowed harshly, flooring the gas. The rental car roared as it was pushed past its limits.
"Don't panic," her boss soothed over the line. "You're in the homestretch. We caught a big fish this time, Doll."
A big fish, her boss said. Big fish meant bigger paychecks, but the Woman wasn't sure if this horror story was worth the jenny.
The pitch-black highway was coated thinly with snow. The Woman checked the temperature reading on the dashboard and swore under her breath. The snow would stick; she had to be off this highway before the coating thickened enough to make her lose traction.
"This big fish better be enough to pay for a tropical vacation," the Woman muttered, sitting up straighter to put less pressure on her broken ribs.
A chuckle on the other end. "There's the Doll I know."
Snow pelted the windshield with intent. The very shadows seemed to reach out and lick at the tires. The tall trees watched the rental car's progression with scorn. The Woman had a horrible feeling that she was being chased.
"Remember the mission of Angels Overseas," her boss said. "We pro-Hunters use our licenses and skills to pull children from dangerous situations and place them in loving homes. The little one you have now is going to a nice couple out east."
The Woman let out a shrill, terrified laugh. That couple would be the blood-soaked headline of next Sunday's newspaper. This girl had claws, for fuck's sake.
"Everything will be fine. The hard part is over. Just keep driving."
Her phone chose that moment to die.
The figure in the back remained still.
The Woman inhaled slowly, releasing it to a count of five. The headlights illuminated a sign reading 'PARASTA - 10 MI'.
She met Jones in a secluded part of the airport's parking lot.
"You look like shit," Jones grunted, zipping the unconscious girl into a duffel bag.
The Woman ignored her colleague's comment. "If you value your life, keep the kid on a steady stream of sedatives," she told him.
Jones looked at her curiously, eyebrow raised. "I ain't afraid of a kid. You shouldn't be, either. Bet it's the blood loss. Get on that airship and fix yourself up, yeah?"
The Woman was still afraid of the kid, even when she was patched up, the worst of her wounds hidden beneath a hoodie, watching as the Dentora Region grew smaller and smaller outside the airship window. The snow had picked up exponentially.
"I was worried the flight would be canceled," someone to the Woman's right said. "Supposed to be a bad snowstorm tonight, you know. It was in the news."
"I don't watch the news," said the Woman.
She thought of the girl's cold black eyes, her claws, and reconsidered.
The Woman knew that her work for Angels Overseas was right. The kids she and her colleagues took came from dangerous places -- Angels Overseas gave them new lives. But this girl inspired a sense of uneasiness so potent it was impossible to ignore. The Woman wondered what kind of monster she'd just unleashed on the world.
Maybe she should start watching the news.
