Rowan wove through traffic as he sped north. He wondered how long it would take Victor to realize that Agent Mace was truly Agent Mace. Not long. Once Victor realized he’d left his car running, he would find it missing, and then alerts would be sent to every law enforcement officer in the city.
Other than the brief stint driving Gretta’s car, Rowan hadn’t driven in 25 years, and he was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of technology in the FBI agent’s car. He felt lucky that the gas pedal, shifter, and steering wheel remained virtually the same as he remembered. Two large screens vied for his attention, and while he could only spare a glance at either while he drove, he noticed that one had a map that appeared to reflect his current position and had several green dots on it. He wondered if those dots were coffee shops or the positions of other FBI vehicles. The other screen had a lot of words on it, and he didn’t dare look at it for more than a moment while driving, but he spotted his name and a recent picture of him leaving a gas station.
A brown plastic bag from the hardware store was on the floor in front of the passenger seat. He wondered if Victor had been shopping on his break. Sticking out from the bag was a twenty-ounce soda, which he leaned over and grabbed. He nearly swerved off the road when he noticed the other item in the bag was duct tape. Why did Victor need duct tape? Maybe a home project?
There was a low hum of chatter coming over the car’s radio. He scanned the dashboard and spotted a small black box with yellow letters that read, “Encryption Enabled.” Glowing words on a button read, “Push to talk.”
He found a volume knob only to hear, “Bravo-9, go secure. Switch to tactical alpha frequency and acknowledge.” The nonsensical radio chatter died out. Maybe he could try to figure out how to switch frequencies, but even if he didn’t, it was all jargon and codes. He could only suppose that they were now looking for him. He knew this would happen, but it still sent a zing of adrenaline through him.
He cranked up the air conditioning, opened the bottle of soda, and took a long pull. It wasn’t coffee, but it was still refreshing.
Will you protect Sofia again? The voice in his head asked.
“I’ve been doing that,” Rowan said.
I know, but it’s not like I can reach you without asking you for a favor. And she’s in more danger than you know.
Rowan shook his head. “How could she possibly be in more danger than I know?”
Gabriela is closing in on her. I was keeping her off Sofia’s trail, but you sat still too long. Gabriela is a few miles away, thanks to the FBI stumbling on you.
“I don’t think the FBI stumbled on me,” Rowan said. “I think Ellie is guiding the FBI somehow.”
You have an hour at most to get to Sofia and get her out of there.
“Who are you? I know you are real now.”
Of course, I’m real, the voice said. I’m somebody who cares about Sofia.
“Are you her mother?”
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I set up a distraction to keep the FBI busy for twenty minutes, but they already know you have the car. Right now, all you have going for you is a head start. You realize that they can track the car, right?
Rowan let out a sigh. “Yeah, I guessed. And you aren’t going to tell me who you are, are you?”
I know I’ve asked a lot from you, and I owe you my life. I beg you to keep helping her.
“You owe me some answers,” Rowan said. “I normally wouldn’t help sneaky, nameless people, but you already know that I wouldn’t let them hurt a kid even if you didn’t ask. And there’s something in my gut that tells me that you really are trying to help Sofia.”
I’m glad your gut trusts me. I will give you answers when this is all over. I promise.
“You realize that this is getting repetitive? You keep asking for help. And I keep blindly and selflessly giving it.” Rowan swerved around a slow-moving van. “You know, I sound heroic, even to me.”
Everyone knows that, in the end, the Trickster god always collects more than he’s owed. Heroes aren’t compensated, and they aren’t immortals with nothing to lose but a little time. I imagine a god’s assistance is nothing more than a way to escape the monotony of eternity. Gretta is a hero, and I won’t let her pay the price for your help.
The voice retreated, but the silence stung. Maybe she was right. Maybe he didn’t have anything to lose. And twenty-five years as a coyote had not been exciting. Sure, he didn’t want to be imprisoned and tortured by the FBI on Earth or in the goddess of judgment’s prison. But, it was true—no matter what—he would live an eternity. Gretta was the one with everything to lose and nothing to gain. She needed protection as much as Sofia. Of course, he couldn’t tell Gretta that. She’d kill him if he told her he was protecting her. She’d think he was a condescending chauvinistic asshat. And realistically, she was the one with protective powers.
He expected to see flashing lights, and what’s more, the green dots on the map stayed put. This didn’t put him at ease. He was sure they were closing in on him, but by the time he finished his soda, he was on a backroad near the small ghost town he had made his home for over two decades. He hoped Gretta and Sofia were still there.
He accelerated, testing his reflexes against the swerves of the road. There was never traffic out this far in the desert, and he needed every moment he could gain.
Gretta’s little red Honda Civic came into sight, and he skidded to a halt, lining up the gas tanks. For Gretta to get away, she’d need a car that the FBI didn’t have a tracking device installed in. He put the car in neutral, shut off the engine, popped the hood and the gas tank in two quick flips, and hopped out of the vehicle.
He reached into Gretta’s car, opened the gas tank, and unscrewed the gas cap. Then he ran back to the open hood of the FBI car. The engine compartment was full of hoses, wires, plastic, and metal he didn’t recognize. He picked a long, flexible hose and yanked it out. Fluid sprayed and dripped. Besides smelly, he had no idea what fluid it was, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it came free.
He grabbed the duct tape from the hardware store bag and taped the now-empty soda bottle to the end of the hose he had just liberated.
He rammed the hose into the gas FBI car’s gas tank as deep as it would go, straight past the anti-siphon valve. It moved in smoothly, which felt like pure luck.
He squeezed the soda bottle, which made loud crinkling noises, and when he released the squeeze, the suction drew up gas through the hose—but not enough to get gas to the bottle. He squeezed and rereleased. The bottle took a moment to re-inflate, but it had gas in it this time. He pulled the bottle off the end of the hose, which caused gasoline to splash on the ground before he jammed the hose into Gretta’s car’s gas tank.
He could hear the trickle of gas flowing. He kept looking down the road the way he had come, expecting to see vehicles closing in on him, but he was good. The FBI wasn’t here yet. He knew they were likely the least of his worries if the shadow woman was right because Gabriela was likely already out here looking.
Somewhere to the southeast, he heard a dog bark. Time was up.
Rowan removed the hose from Gretta’s tank, replaced the gas cap, and pushed the FBI vehicle off the road into the ditch. He then disconnected the car battery in case it made it harder to track the car and closed the hood.