Free Runner (Sam Dryden Novel) by Patrick Lee Page B

world, stuff happened— shit happened was how he’d phrased it in his thoughts.
    What I mean is, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to think about vanishing, he’d said.
    Which had made her wonder about something: Was it strange that she’d run into someone—she had literally run into him—who was this good at keeping her safe from Gaul and his people? Wasn’t that a doozy of a coincidence?
    On the heels of that thought came another, this one from somewhere deep in her mind: Had it been a coincidence?
    She couldn’t imagine what else it could’ve been, but the question unsettled her.
    They were standing in front of a shelf full of something called freeze-dried meals: foil packets with pictures of hikers on the fronts, labeled with dish names like Lasagna with Meat Sauce and Chicken Teriyaki with Rice.
    “Fair warning,” Sam said. “This stuff’s all going to taste terrible. Very light to carry, though.”
    He filled half the cart with them. The other half was already full of clothing, his size and hers. Atop the clothing were two items: a propane cookstove the size of a CD spindle, and a hand-pumped water purifier. Tucked into the space beneath the cart were two backpacks, two sleeping bags, and two pair of hiking boots. Everything they would need to stay in the woods for a week or more. By the time they emerged again, she would know who she really was—if they didn’t find out sooner.
    A middle-aged woman walked by. Rachel caught the fragmented spill of her thoughts: Still like the gray one, but … what’s over here? No, those are men’s.
    Way in the background, like a radio turned down but endlessly droning, the man at the checkout was still staring at the dirty magazine.
    Sam pushed the cart to the next aisle. Rachel followed. She’d found she didn’t like getting too far away from him. Compared to everyone else she’d been near today—even people in other cars on the highway—Sam’s thoughts were unique. No matter what he was thinking at any one moment, there was a feeling that was always there, a feeling that seemed to be pointed right at her. It made her think of the warmth near a fireplace. That was how Sam’s thoughts felt. Like protective heat. Like arms around her.
    *   *   *
    They were heading north through the city, ten minutes later, when it happened. They had two more stops to make: an electronics store here in Bakersfield, to buy an audio recorder, and a specialty shop in the city of Visalia, an hour away. What they needed in Visalia were two unusual items—Sam had spent ten minutes on a pay phone, calling places to ask about them. These items would be for emergency use only; Rachel hoped like crazy they wouldn’t need them.
    Sam made a left toward a Best Buy half a mile down a cross street. The moment he’d completed the turn, Rachel felt her breath catch. It was like someone had driven an elbow hard into her chest. A choked little sound came out of her mouth.
    Sam turned to her. Concern flared in his thoughts.
    “What’s wrong? Rachel?”
    She forced out a breath, sucked in another.
    “I’m fine,” she said. She heard how she sounded, though. She didn’t sound fine. She didn’t really feel fine, either. For another second she had no idea what she did feel. Fear, it seemed like, but why? What was she afraid of?
    Then her eyes locked onto it. Just north of the Best Buy, rising out of the city sprawl: a cell phone tower. There was nothing special about it. It was just standing there, its red beacon lights hardly visible in the sun. Yet she could barely make herself look at the thing. It was like staring at a close-up picture of an insect face. Everything about it made her skin prickle.
    “Rachel, what is it?”
    “I don’t know,” she said.
    She didn’t want to tell him. He’d think she was crazy.
    Sam put the Toyota’s blinker on and pulled off the road into a strip mall. He put it in park.
    “Hey,” he said. His voice was soft. The fireplace feeling was