Matthew's Chance (4 page)

“Got it.” Matthew’s voice sounded strained to his own ears. Not fear, but pain, and regret. He liked Sal, at least as much as he’d liked anybody over the last few years, and he didn’t want to involve Sal in the mess he was in now.

“What did you hear? Was it wolves?” Matthew could only hope Ash and the others had finally come for him.

“It was a ship of some kind. Not one of ours, best I could tell. Our planes won’t fly over the protectorate.”

Flight hadn’t recovered in the years since that first heat season had sent the world into financial ruin, and last Matthew had heard, it probably wasn’t going to as long as fuel remained a problem. He hadn’t met a pilot yet who had managed to get hold of enough fuel to get a private plane airborne in the last five or six years. Someone somewhere had to have done it, but Matthew sure didn’t know who or where that might be.

“You sure it was a ship?” Matthew grabbed Sal’s hand and pushed it away. “Gotta sit for a minute.” His breath came heavy and fast, and he wanted to drop his head between his knees, but he knew that wasn’t going to help.

Sal turned away and used the opportunity to yank open the top two drawers in the dresser pushed up against the wall across from the foot of the bed. “This’ll have to do,” he said, throwing something over his shoulder toward Matthew.

A heavy pair of jeans whumped onto the bed at Matthew’s side. The next items hit softer, just a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Sal shoved the drawer closed again and then yanked the one below it open. He threw a balled up pair of socks onto the bed.

Matthew closed his eyes and took a breath, then reopened them and reached for the pants with his good hand. Worn denim, with strings hanging loose at the pocket and what looked like an oil stain on the thigh. He didn’t know how he was going to get them on.

Sal took care of it. He squatted in front of Matthew and started dragging the pants up Matthew’s legs. “God, I don’t know how I’m going to get you out of here in this shape.”

“Leave me here,” Matthew said. “You shouldn’t have come for me.”

Sal paused, and when he resumed dragging the pants up Matthew’s legs, Matthew could see his hands shaking.

“I don’t even like you right now—and you’re right, I should leave you.” Sal’s emphasis on “should” let Matthew know Sal had absolutely no intention of leaving him behind. The pants reached Matthew’s knees. Sal stopped tugging the fabric and stood. “I’m not going to, though, because that would be a shit thing to do.”

Matthew figured now was as good a time as any to say it. “I’m not going with you.”

Sal clenched his fist. “The fuck you’re not.” He grabbed up the t-shirt beside Matthew. He started to pull it over Matthew’s head. Matthew shoved weakly at Sal’s arm, but Sal didn’t even hesitate. He knocked Matthew’s arm away and dragged the soft cotton down over Matthew’s face.

Matthew stopped fighting. Sal was going to dress him no matter what and he might as well let him, because being naked when the wolves came for him wasn’t a great idea, not now.

“Your name isn’t Paul, is it?”

Matthew wet his bottom lip and debated the sense in telling Sal the truth, or at least some of it. He caught Sal’s gaze for the briefest moment, before Sal dropped his gaze to the socks he had started to unfold and hunkered down in front of Matthew again.

“No,” Matthew said.

Sal flinched, but then gripped Matthew’s heel and pulled his foot up and started tugging the socks over Matthew’s toes. “So I don’t even know who I was letting fuck me that whole time.”

“It’s Matthew,” Matthew added.

“There.” Sal stood and wrapped his arm around Matthew’s back. “This is going to hurt when you stand up.”

Matthew gritted his teeth and let Sal haul him to his feet. He wobbled there for a few seconds, but Sal didn’t hesitate to start walking him toward the door.

“I can’t believe you’re not screaming in pain.”

Matthew grunted, afraid that if he opened his mouth, that was exactly what he would do. He hobbled forward a few slow steps at a time, and by the time they cleared the bedroom door, a dark-haired woman stood in the hallway, a heavy brown bag slung over her shoulder that was nearly half the length of her body.

El, he guessed.

She eyed him head to toe before turning away and heading off down the hall toward what looked like the living room from where Matthew stood.

He heard a loud crash and then Chen’s voice, frustrated, “You have too many pictures in here!”

“Forget it!” Sal yelled back, his head so close to Matthew that the sound of his voice rang Matthew’s ears. “We have to go!”

“Your clothes—”

“I can wear yours. No time.” Sal started turning Matthew, not toward the front where El had gone, but toward the kitchen.

“The ship, how do you know it’s coming here?” Matthew asked. He had a disquieting thought. What if the ship carried the wolves who weren’t loyal to the First Alpha?

Matthew halted his shuffling gait, and Sal threw him a look, the skin around his mouth and eyes tight.

Sal’s arm tightened around Matthew’s back. “What are you doing? We have to move.” He tugged Matthew forward.

Matthew breathed deep against the pain but didn’t move. “Did you tell anyone I wasn’t dead?”

“What kind of idiot do you take me for? If Gage found out I sent someone to find your body—”

“Jay—the asshole that wanted to shoot me. Is there any way he found out?”

Sal’s face took on a stubborn cast under the glaring artificial light. Evening had come, and the windows across the room reflected their tense standoff. “If he did, it wasn’t because I made it easy for him.”

Matthew stared at Sal and Sal stared back.

Sal’s nostrils flared with every shallow breath, his jaw a tight line. “Why the fuck does it even matter? We’re running. No one’s going to care enough to come—”

“I’m not going,” Matthew said. “If it’s wolves, I’ll draw them away from you so you guys can get away. The protectorate’s not safe right now. Your brother and sister never should’ve cut it so close.”

“It’s my fault,” Sal said. “He would’ve been gone already with El.”

Matthew caught the back of a chair and used it to hold himself upright. “You three need to go on.”

Sal didn’t release Matthew. His hand clamped like a vise around Matthew’s upper arm. “What are you messed up in? Why would you want to stay?” Sal’s eyes raked over Matthew’s face, then his body. “He was right, wasn’t he? You’re a goddamn spy for them.” Then, his mouth parted with a hastily inhaled breath. “Goddamn. You think they’re here for you.”

Matthew jerked his arm. Instead of freeing himself, he lost his balance on legs that still had almost no strength in them and he fell against the chair.

Sal grabbed him and yanked him back upright, having to pull Matthew in tight to his chest to keep him on his feet. “You can’t stay here like this.”

“I’m staying,” Matthew said fiercely. “So go on. Get the fuck out of here.”

Sal’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t know why I even care but I do, you prick. They’re wolves! Heat season’s starting and you think it’s a good idea to sit in a cabin in the protectorate while wolves roam the woods.”

“They won’t—”

“Hurt you?” Sal interrupted with a sneer. “Of course they will. That’s what they do. If you’ve spent any time with them at all, you should damn well know that.”

Matthew was too tired to be anything but calm. “This is really none of your goddamn business, Sal. You need to go.”

Sal’s eyes flickered. He dropped his hold on Matthew and took a step back. “If that’s how you want it—” He clenched his fists. “Fuck you.” Sal turned and left Matthew standing there, barely holding himself up against the chair.

He pulled it out, the wooden legs scratching against the dark laminate floor. He dropped into the chair and leaned on the table, breathing harshly. He couldn’t wait in the bed, because what if Ash didn’t know where to look for him? What if the wolves left before they discovered Matthew was still in the area? He would have to find a way to let them know where he was.

He heard Sal’s voice coming from the next room. Chen and El spoke low, and whatever Sal said must have bothered El, because her voice rose, and Matthew caught a few words.

“…not right. If he’s…”

The low rumble of Chen’s voice followed.

After that, Matthew must have drifted away for a few seconds because he heard a door shut and then the place was quiet.

He sat at the kitchen table, not sure what to do. He should have asked Sal where he’d seen the ship. He should have asked a lot of questions he hadn’t thought to ask. But he was so tired. He wanted to go back to the bed and crash until he’d healed for at least another few hours.

He had just resigned himself to getting to his feet and do that when he heard a creak behind him.

He couldn’t turn fast enough to stop Chen from winding rope around his wrist.

“What the hell!”

“It’s for your own good,” Sal said from the other side.

Chen tossed Sal the end of the rope and he caught it, then swiftly wrapped it around Matthew’s badly damaged hand.

Matthew fought anyway. He slid off the hard wood seat and the chair crashed sideways, knocking into Chen’s legs and thudding to the floor beside Matthew’s head, close enough to graze his scalp.

Sal said, “Sorry, man,” and pulled the rope behind Matthew, binding his arms down to his sides.

Matthew kicked out at Sal, and Sal staggered forward, then crashed to his knees, landing on Matthew’s leg.

Matthew screamed. Pain flared bright and hard in his calf, which had already been throbbing.

Sal cursed and scrambled backward, his knees thunking hard against the floor in his hurry to take his weight off Matthew’s injured leg. “Stop fighting us! You’re just going to get hurt worse than you already are.”

Matthew squeezed his fist against the pain until his hand and forearm shook. He was going to pass out. He could feel the cold sweat sweeping over him, turning his skin clammy, and darkness closed in at the edges of his vision.

If he passed out, how would Ash find him?

The rope pulled tight around him, and he closed his eyes. He had no more energy to put into a fight.

He lost consciousness.

When he came to this time, he wasn’t on a forest floor, or a bed. He was in the back of a truck, stretched out flat on ridged metal that bit into his spine. The sky had gone completely dark and fresh cool air, damp with rain, filled his lungs.

This time, his mind felt sharp and bright and his thoughts raced with a swiftness he hadn’t felt since he’d been running from Gage’s guys.

No one rode in the bed with him.

His nose itched. He started to raise his hand and realized he was still completely wrapped up in a rough rope.

He didn’t recognize the truck. The moon had risen, and the sky was clear, a sparkle of bright dots creating the patterns of every constellation Matthew had ever learned, which was to say, not that many.

The truck hit a rut, and his back jostled against the metal bed. He tried to roll to his side and the rough tract they travelled kept tossing him back until finally he heaved himself over in time to a particularly fierce bump in the road.

He needed to figure out how to get out of this truck without a weapon or a—

The heavy bag Sal’s sister El had been carrying slid into his line of sight. He scrambled to use to his unbound legs to push him around in the jostling truck bed. He hooked his socked foot over the bag and dragged it toward the middle of the bed. It took a couple of tries and he was breathing heavy by the time he had done it, but when he had, he was able to twist around so his side pressed up against the long bag and his fingers could reach the zipper pull.

He tried to grip the pull, but the jolting of the truck, traveling way too fast, kept jerking the pull out of his grip.

“Fucking—” He clenched his teeth and growled out his frustration. He kept trying until he finally managed to pinch the zipper pull tightly enough that it slid an inch. Then he dug his fingers into the hole, threw his leg over the bag again and held tight, while he tried to get his hand into that bag far enough to feel for anything he could use to get out of the ropes binding his arms.

A few breathless minutes of searching and he kicked the bag across the truck’s bed. “Goddamn!” There’d been nothing there. Clothes, the smooth edges of something he couldn’t identify, the soles of a pair of shoes. All useless.

The truck started to slow, and the ride became smoother. Matthew stared up at the stars and listened to the hum of the truck’s engine.

He frowned and tilted his head back, taking a closer look toward the passenger cab. He could make out three people inside through the back window—but what most caught his attention was the apparent age of the truck and the disconnect between that age and the sound of the engine.

Sal, or someone, had retrofitted the truck to run entirely on electric. He could see the gleam of solar panels that had been fitted to the top and sides, and the roll of solar sheeting that would stretch across the bed of the truck when it was empty. The truck probably didn’t need a drop of halfgas to run most days.

Matthew wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a truck like this one before, except as a broken shell in the more abandoned areas where the old quake had done the most damage. He’d gone on a field trip once before the wolves came, when he was just old enough to remember having done it, and he’d visited one of the abandoned places. He’d thought it was fascinating to see the decaying buildings and all the things that had just been left behind when it was over, as if so many people had died that there hadn’t been enough left to come back and claim what remained.

His nose started itching again. Without thought, he made an aborted move to raise his arm. The ropes stopped him.

But he noticed the slack that hadn’t been there earlier.

In his effort to avoid hurting Matthew with the ropes, Sal hadn’t tied the rope as tight as he could have and Matthew was able to struggle against the bonds until he had one hand free.

The truck turned and headlights cut through the woods, bringing a stark relief to the thick forest they were turning into, what looked like old growth pine. Matthew had no idea where they were or where they were headed, but if he could get loose…