Project Produce(48)

I started to walk faster this time. Why had I gone into the woods like an idiot? Being arrested topped being murdered, any day. I started to hyperventilate, struggling to keep my cool. I couldn’t even make it through the entire showing of the Blair Witch Project, and now I was the freaking star in my own version.

I reached for my cell but came up empty-handed. I must have lost it. Where are you, Zuc? You were so right, I really, really, really need you right now.

I peeked over my shoulder, and saw something tan dart behind a tree. Maybe it was Gadget. I didn’t get a good enough look, but after our last disastrous encounter with Jack--my special friend that wouldn’t die--I sure as heck wasn’t sticking around to find out.

I started pumping my arms and legs, but my numb feet wouldn’t move faster than a ridiculous, bouncy walk-jog. The footsteps behind me pounded the frozen ground, growing closer. Closer. Closer. Oh, God, he was gaining on me. Afraid to look behind me, I focused on the clearing up ahead. Just before I reached the opening, I had to know. Holding my breath, I whipped my head around.

Sweet Jesus, could that be Flasher Freak?

I gasped. Something about him seemed different, more menacing, not so puny anymore. What I would have given to see Dylan right about now. Giving one last surge of everything I had, I came barreling out of the woods onto the footpath and into the street, full-throttle.

“Look out!” a familiar voice yelled.

“Huh?” I turned back around and, “Ahhhh!” flipped over the hood of Big Betty, landing hard on my back and bumping my head on the icy pavement. Stars danced behind my eyelids, and my ears rang something fierce. Way to read minds, Zuc.

“Jesus, Callie, are you all right?”

I made a garbled sound, but no words came out. Something gently squeezed my arms and legs and then pressed my ribs.

“Nothing feels broken.” When I didn’t speak, he said, “Callie, talk to me. Say something.”

I pried my eyelids open, struggling to uncross my eyes and catch my breath. “Dylan here?” I blinked up at his double image and tried to form coherent words. “Khaki Man chase. Horsie crazy. Copper mad.”

“What are you talking about?” He ran his hands over the back of my head and checked my pupils. “Well, it doesn’t look like you have a concussion, but I can’t be sure.” He glanced around. “Come on, Mac, a crowd’s gathering. I’m taking you home.”

“O-Okay.” He lifted me into his arms, and I bit my lip on a groan. I was going to be one sore cookie tomorrow.

“Almost there.” He carried me to the passenger side of Big Betty and helped me into the seat and then buckled me in.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, feeling the car rock, then I winced when he slammed the door.

“Sorry,” he said as Big Betty roared to life and began to move.

“It’s okay, I’ll live.” Good, I sounded normal again, even if I felt like I was going to die. I touched the back of my head. “If my skull stays in one piece, that is.”

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“No, I really don’t want to go. I just need to go home and take some aspirin.”

“You sure? Because I really think--”

“I’m sure. But I have to tell you--”

A blip of static came from Dylan’s walkie talkie, followed by, “Big Daddy, you copy? The hounds are on the lookout for Annie Oakley. Over.”

“Annie Oakley?” I asked, wondering why he had a walkie talkie when his car was equipped with a CB. I stared at him with my head still pounding and ears still ringing, waiting for him to answer.

Dylan ignored me. “Copy that, B4. Big Daddy bagged Oakley himself. Cover for me. Gotta hit the road before the cruisers arrive. Over and out.”

“But I still have to tell you--”

“Hang on a sec, I need to concentrate.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror as we exited the park. “I just saved your hide from being thrown in the slammer. Care to tell me what you were thinking, stealing an officer’s horse, Annie Oakley?” He shot a glance over to me.

I felt my cheeks flame. “It wasn’t my fault, really. Khaki Man was chasing me. How was I supposed to know Hi-Ho Silver belonged to the Angry Red Beast? And I didn’t steal him, I only borrowed him.” I stared at Dylan until he turned to look at me. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not anymore.”

I wilted with relief.

“I had a friend smooth things over, but no more borrowing any horses. You don’t always have to go it alone, you know.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “And I promise, I’ll ask for help next time.” When he raised a brow, I clarified, “I mean, there won’t be a next time, because I’ll be more careful. Deal?”