Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Coming Home ❯ 41 ( Chapter 41 )

41

Time to go…

I lay on the couch, watching the TV with the sound off. I sighed and rubbed my temples; at least the headache had finally started to fade.

The practice sessions with Nagi had been disastrous. He couldn't use his telekinesis without blinding pain, which left him sick and limp with exhaustion. And try though I might, I couldn't unlock it for him, which either meant that I just didn't know what I was doing, or he was too badly hurt for it to work. For the first time in my life, I really hoped I was just incompetent.

I had to hand it to the kid: Nagi certainly had courage. If I'd been in that much pain and puking my guts up every damn time, I would have stopped at two attempts, if not one. But he made it through seven sessions over a two-day span, without a single complaint. Each time, he'd simply wait it through, eat a little plain rice, then tell me he wanted to try it again. And each time I'd wanted to tell him "no," but couldn't bear to.

Now Nagi was in the bathtub, resting in the soothing hot water after our final practice work. There was no way we were going for another round tonight. Brad and Farf should be arriving any hour now, any minute, really, and I wasn't going to have them find a fucked-up Nagi and an exhausted telepath when they got here.

I looked around the room. All our stuff was in the trunk of the car downstairs, except for two small bags that held a couple of clothing changes and my hair color maintenance crap. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I had the feeling that we should be ready to move out on a moment's notice. Maybe it was just a matter of being around Brad for so long.

From the bathroom came the sounds of Nagi getting out of the tub and pulling the drain plug. For the tenth time that hour I checked my watch. I'd finally found the damn thing in the bottom of my old gym bag, under all those spare clothes. It wasn't my nicer watch - that one had been lost at sea - and digital would have been better, but it ran and it was fairly accurate. Now it showed nearly nine p.m., Thursday, June 15. Shit. Only ten minutes since I last looked.

I got up and paced. Something was bothering me, and I couldn't pin it down. A sense of foreboding, but why? I resisted the temptation to reach out with my thoughts and check. If there were any psi operatives out there, they'd feel that sweep and attack. Damn, I hated being so blind! My left hand drifted back to the gun under my right arm. I'd put the holster on around five. Nagi hadn't said anything about it, but I know it made him uncomfortable. He felt helpless without his powers, and he hated firearms.

Nagi's bedroom door clicked shut. I hadn't even noticed him leave the bathroom. I took the opportunity to make use of the toilet, then resumed my pacing. On impulse, I flexed my right shoulder a few times. Not so bad today. I took off the holster, reversed it, and put it back on. That felt so much better! I practiced drawing my gun a few times, the movement becoming easier with each pass.

I heard Nagi's door open again, then the sound of soft footsteps making their way toward the kitchen. I followed Nagi to the fridge and peeked over his shoulder. Glancing down, I saw that he, too, wore a holstered pistol tonight. I swallowed. "Hand me one of those waters, will you?" I asked, suddenly not so hungry.

Nagi handed me a bottle and got himself some rice and pickles. He made a few onigiri and asked if I wanted any. I shook my head.

We sat at the kitchen table, Nagi with his snack and me with my water. I didn't particularly like drinking water, but I was starting to get used to it.

::Schuldig…::

I jumped. The mental touch had taken me by surprise. ::Brad?!:: His signature was unmistakable; they were home.

The key turned in the lock; Nagi started to power up, then quickly stopped and drew his gun.

Hastily I gestured for Nagi to put his gun away. "It's Brad, they're back."

Nagi wilted visibly, re-holstering his sidearm and sagging in his chair. He looked like he had the beginnings of a mild headache.

I paused, torn between greeting our teammates and tending Nagi's pain. Either I was projecting or he read it in my face; in a soft voice Nagi said, "I'm all right, Schu, it's not that bad."

Standing up, I started to wave `hello'. As Farf secured the door, Brad checked his watch, then hurried toward his bedroom. For some reason, the little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Something wasn't right.

Farfarello took his travel bag into the bathroom, while Brad tossed his own suitcase on his bed, the door still wide open. To Nagi I said, "Finish your food, kiddo. I'll be right back," before dashing across the apartment and coming to an abrupt halt in Brad's doorway.

Not even turning toward me, Brad finished undressing at record speed, shedding the suit and fake mustache and contact lenses with little concern where they landed. "Schuldig, I trust you are both well?"

"Uh, yeah." I just stared as he put on slacks and a knit shirt, then a light blazer.

"Everything in the car?"

"Except what's sitting by the door," I told him. "Brad, what's -"

Brad looked up at me, his eyes faintly bloodshot. "It's time."

I ran back to the kitchen. "Nagi, pack your snack."

"I'm done already," Nagi told me. "What's going on?"

"I think we're leaving."

Abandoning his plate, Nagi turned and sprinted to his bedroom. I raided the fridge, grabbing everything that looked worth salvaging. I didn't know what kind of exit we'd be making, or what our food situation would be, but damned if I was letting that kid go hungry. To make room for the food, I took my new leather blazer out of my bag and put it on, hoping it wouldn't be too damn hot. Almost an afterthought, I grabbed my new passports. I stuffed the Austrian one in the jacket and the other in my jeans.

Within ten minutes, Brad's grey sideburns were once again black, his brown eyes hidden behind eyeglasses. Farf had removed his hair extension and the fake tattoo, while leaving his hair black and re-bronzing his skin. The Irishman pulled on a lightweight hooded jacket and jeans and stuffed his chauffeur outfit back in the travel bag.

Brad made a quick search through each room, then surveyed his team. We stood ready by the door, Nagi and I with sidearms under our jackets, Farf no doubt with something nastier under his own.

Brad looked at his watch, seeming to count the seconds. Then: "Let's go."

Farf led the way out of the apartment, Nagi close behind him. I paused, waiting for Brad. Our leader took one last look inside, tossed the key into the living room, and shut the door.

Within, the phone started to ring.

We ran. I darted past Farfarello and unlocked the car, then looked back at Brad.

The order came loud and clear. ::Drive.::

As my teammates poured into the car, I turned the key in the ignition. Five seconds later we were pulling out of the parking garage and onto the street.

By the time we reached the corner, two cars with their lights off cruised onto the street behind us. They parked in front of the apartment building.

"Just drive, Schu. Let me watch them," Brad instructed calmly, again checking the time. "We have gained a few critical minutes. Head for the airport."

Ignoring any possible pursuit, I concentrated on blending in with the sparse traffic and aiming in the right direction. I touched Brad's thoughts to verify which way I needed to go, then speeded up a little.

To my left, Brad was staring at his watch.

From the back seat, Farfarello said, "I see them."

Brad looked up. "Floor it."

I hit the gas, swerving around a slower car and running a traffic light. Behind us I could hear the screech of brakes. I gritted my teeth and drove, momentarily regretting that I had never taken the Rosenkreuz combat driving certification. Then again, I realized that meant I could surprise those who had. My snarl turned into a nasty grin and I began evading in earnest.

Brad navigated me through a different route, heading toward the highway access ramp via back roads instead of main ones. I frowned a little, unsure why he would do this. We had to go slower this way, and our pursuers would eventually catch up. I said as much to Crawford, who didn't even have his gun out.

"That's precisely what I'm counting on," Brad stated. "Now calm down, focus, and drive."

I followed his directions without any more questions. Soft tendrils of searching thought touched my mind; I tried to make my shields look as uninteresting as possible. The touch faded. "Brad, they're scanning for us," I hissed through clenched teeth.

"They're scanning for you," Brad corrected. "They can't read the rest of us as easily. It's all right, they won't find you. Just go."

As I turned the last corner toward the highway on-ramp, several slower cars merged around us. Brad put his hand on my shoulder. "Turn left. Now."

I didn't ask, I just hit the brake and spun the wheel and hoped to hell he knew what he was doing. The access ramp vanished behind us as I hit the gas and dodged into a narrow side street.

Brad reached across me and turned off our headlights. "Head for the docks. Nagi, get out your primary passport." He pulled something out of a pocket and handed it back to the kid. "I apologize for the rough conditions, but I couldn't let you use these until we were away."

I glanced over, but couldn't see what he'd given Nagi. "What is it?"

"Brown contact lenses," Brad stated. "They had to see Schwarz leave that apartment and head for the airport. It will be another foursome altogether leaving Japan."

"Brad," I asked, "where are we going? After the docks, I mean."

Crawford smiled and pushed his eyeglasses back up. "We're taking a slow boat to China."