G.U.A.R.D. Book #2: Aberrations

-13-

    I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jacket and gazed around casually. My crutches leaned against a tree next to me, and I sat on a log to relieve the pain in my foot. G.U.A.R.D. agents walked and ran around, some leading League agents, a few transporting large guns, and still more just taking leisurely walks. Just a few feet ahead was the line of G.U.A.R.D. vehicles they had flown from their base.

The plan was pretty simple, but we could be caught. Very easily. I wasn't sure I trusted Slade's word that it would actually work. But, then again, his unorthodox plans had worked before.

Slade suddenly walked into my line of vision, casually massaging his wounded shoulder as he made his way to the cars. He wore sunglasses, looking totally in place with the G.U.A.R.D. agents, despite the fact his jacket bore no G.U.A.R.D. emblem. No one stopped him when he looked at the van door. I wondered why he was just studying it. Then the man reached down and pushed on the door a few times. A keypad.

He opened the door and settled in the seat. Weird. The rest of us thought they would just have normal keyholes, but I guess the norm was to have password-guarded doors. How had Slade known it?

As he worked on hot wiring the vehicle, I got my crutches and stood. Winter, on my right, also stood. Her thick hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

"You sure you can walk with just one?" she asked. She still hadn't regained her full color.

In answer, I offered one of my crutches. "We'll see. You sure you want to do this?"

She didn't answer. We both went forward, I towards the van—trying to look inconspicuous—and she to the side. She pretended to use the crutch, watching my progress. It was difficult work, holding a backpack over one shoulder while walking with a crutch. But it was necessary, I knew.

Max and Cindy started walking from their own station, across the line of cars. He carried a duffel bag over his shoulder, twice the size of my backpack. Cindy also had a bag. Small and black, it wound around her shoulder casually.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang through the air. Winter "slipped" in the dirt and cried out, grasping at her leg.

"Help, help!" she called dramatically. "Ack, the pain!"

Ignoring my friend and her "bullet wound," I hurried over to the van, where Max slid open the door to help Cindy in. Then he tossed in the duffel, which she caught and hurried to the back with. Agents hurried over to Winter, who was discreetly squirting ketchup sauce on her side. Suddenly, Anthony appeared from the underbrush across the dirt road.

"I saw the shooter!" he shouted urgently. The G.U.A.R.D. agents glanced up, and Anthony pointed behind him. "He went that way!"

The majority left Winter and dashed into the woods. Anthony, however, ran to the group surrounding Winter. He sliced through, reaching down for the girl, who, in turn, latched onto his arm and dropped the small container of ketchup.

"Dustin, come on!" Cindy hissed impatiently.

Quickly facing the van again, I gave my crutch to Max, who put it to the side. Then, I grabbed onto the sides of the doorframe, placed my better foot up in the car and hoisted myself up. Max helped me to the second row, where he then grabbed Winter and Anthony and buckled himself in. As Anthony got in the passenger's seat, the engine rumbled to life, and agents began surrounding us.

I grabbed my crutches and sat them horizontally across my lap. Then I clipped my buckle in place. Right in time, too, because Slade zoomed through the grass, so fast I thought I might lose my lunch.