A Cloak of Lies Ch. 04

"Camille, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't know I was..."

The anguish in his voice moved her heart to reach out to his, as her hand reached for his face. "I shouldn't have brought it up. It was just an accident and no one was hurt. Let's forget about it, okay?"

Pressing his cheek to her palm, he gave her a sidelong glance before answering. "I missed you, agapi. I missed your smile."

She had to pull her hand away, had to remember that she was no longer his wife, but about to marry another. "You'd better concentrate on driving, Niko. Your friend needs help."

"Watch for Route 141," he returned, straightening in his seat. "From there we have to get on Old State Route 21 and head south. Then we have to go about ten miles and look for an old red sign that says Heights Orchards. There should be a long lane and then an over-grown path that leads to the barn."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, both watching for suspicious activity and landmarks. Niko was growing more and more tense as the miles passed, peering into the darkness all around them. His mood was contagious, had Camille imagining henchmen with guns blasting away behind every tree.

A small moan escaped her throat when she saw the red sign that they sought, though it was difficult to recognize it for the overgrowth of wild ivy and tree branches. The lane they turned down was pitted and thick with brush. There was a break in the thicket, barely wide enough for the car that carried them. Niko turned the wheel as he shut off the headlights, navigating the narrow path by the light of the setting moon.

Within a matter of minutes the undergrowth opened, revealing the silhouette of a large structure standing against the night sky. Niko stopped the car some fifty yards before the building, telling her to stay in the car while he checked his weapon. He thought for a moment, then reached under the seat, pulling out the small .38 he had removed from the trunk earlier.

"I know you know how to use this," he said, giving the gun a quick inspection. "Keep the doors locked and don't hesitate to use it."

When Camille didn't take the gleaming weapon from him, he shoved it at her. "Take it, Camille. Don't fuck around. Ifanyone other than me comes up to the vehicle, shoot him. Then get the hell out of here. There's cash in the glove box. Don't trust anyone. Head east to the Pentagon, ask for Colonel Hansen and give him my name -- my real name. This is important Camille, only talk to Hansen. You got it?"

"Yeah, but... you'll be back, right?"

"Don't worry," he whispered, brushing her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "I promised I wouldn't let anyone hurt you."

"No, Niko. It's... If you die again..."

His hand snaked around the back of her neck, sliding up to tangle in her hair, drawing her to him. He covered her mouth with his, kissing her tenderly before hesitantly releasing her. Taking her hand, he placed the gun in it, closing her fingers around the grip.

"I'll be back," he rasped.

After he closed the car door, she slid behind the wheel, pushing the electric door lock button. The resounding snap of the locks startled her as she watched Niko skulk through the shadows toward the structure, finally disappearing into the night. She clutched the gun in her hands, anxiety eating a hole in her stomach.

Camille had to remind herself to breathe, to take in the oxygen that fed her brain and muscles. The minutes stretched out, her imagination conjuring demons from the sounds and movements in the darkness outside the car. Her fingers began to ache as they gripped the cold steel of the gun, until she forced herself to relax her hold.

The waiting was intolerable, eating away at her mind until she thought she would go nuts. She had reached for the door handle several times, wondering if she should go look for him, but Niko's warning words constantly played in her head.Don't fuck around. Get the hell out of here. Don't trust anyone.

Indecision became her enemy, tugging her thoughts in all directions and centering on nothing -- so she sat and she waited.What was that? She thought she detected a movement in the shadows near the dark building. Her eyes began to burn as she kept them trained on the area where she thought she saw the movement. Finally she blinked several times before refocusing, trying to tell herself it had been her imagination.

She saw it again, more defined this time. The large shadow wove out of the darkness of the barn, moving into the scant silvery light, disappearing briefly as a cloud obscured the low-hanging half-moon. The black thing moved closer, taking shape, becoming defined with arms and legs. Clutching the gun, feeling the hammer under her thumb, she didn't know if she could kill the man that was walking her way.

It had to be Niko. Who else could it be? Thinking of the car that had chased them earlier, she was no longer sure of anything. Unable to bear anymore, Camille reached for the headlamp switch, flooding the area in front of the car with light. The man raised his arm to shield his eyes, flinching against the brightness.

A gasp of relief that sounded more like a moan was the only sound she made when she saw her husband upright, walking, unharmed. Switching off the headlamps again, Camille waited until he approached the driver's door before releasing the electric locks.

"Slide over," Niko said when he opened the car. Slipping behind the wheel, he turned uneasy eyes to her while he started the car. "Olan's in bad shape. Looks like he damn near bled out. Burning up, too. I hope we got here in time."

"He should be in a hospital, Niko."

"Can't. He's on the run, same as me. Can't take the chance," he stated, putting the car in gear.

Camille climbed over the seat to gather the supplies as the car pulled into the barn. As she got out of the vehicle her eyes took in the cobwebs hanging from the rafters and the thick layer of dust that coated the walls. Then she saw the sickly form of a man, crumpled in a corner, gasping as if each breath would be his last.

Niko killed the motor, leaving on the headlamps to illuminate the cavernous interior of the ramshackle building. He threw his door open, reaching for the bags that Camille held, carrying them to where his friend languished. Turning to see her advancing quickly, he took the remaining bags she had removed from the vehicle.

Camille dropped to her knees alongside the man, placing one hand on his chest while the other felt the heat of his forehead. Shooting her husband a worried frown, she grabbed one of the sacks, rifling through its contents.

"See if you can find the scissors," she ordered as she snagged another bag. "And get one of those blankets out. Try to find a relatively clean spot to spread it. I'll need a couple of jugs of water from the car. Do you think we can chance a fire?"

Within minutes they had Olan laid out on a blanket, stripped from the waist up before Camille cleansed his wound. The man had blissfully fallen into unconsciousness from the pain of his wound and weakness from loss of blood. She inspected the damage, finding a gaping hole just below his left collarbone, created by the bullet that had exited his back just to the right of his shoulder blade. The area around both wounds was bright, angry, red and swollen.

Camille sucked her breath in through her teeth, fearfully looking up at Niko. "This is a pretty bad infection. He needs to be in a hospital."

"That would only get him killed, Camille. They'll be watching the hospitals."

"You keep saying 'they.' Who is this 'they?'"

"We'll talk about it later. Let's just take care of Olan right now, okay?" Niko ducked his head, rummaging through one of the bags of supplies. "We'll have a long talk later. I promise."

Irritated at him for evading the question, Camille had no choice but to agree when the man on the blanket started moaning. "Find the vinegar for me," she ordered as she pulled out a large, sterile cotton pad.

"Here you go," he said, offering the bottle.

"Take that empty water jug," she said, inclining her head toward the previously emptied bottle. "Mix the vinegar with equal parts water. Don't use it all. We might need straight vinegar later."

Niko complied, pouring the liquids carefully, then handing the jug to her. She poured a liberal amount over the pad, telling him to hold it in place over the exposed wound while she wet another dressing and applied it to Olan's back. Wrapping gauze around the injured man's body to hold the compresses in place was easy enough. Stopping herself from worrying over his fate was another matter.

"Niko," she whispered. "He's lost a lot of blood. He's running a fever. What if the bullet hit one of his vitals? We need a doctor."

"I know but we'll just have to manage. Olan's a tough guy. If anyone can pull through it'd be him."

Camille rubbed her tired eyes, standing to stretch her cramped muscles. "The dressings need to be changed every half-hour or so."

"I can manage. Why don't you lie down in the car? Try to get some sleep."

Nodding tiredly, she wandered away from the two men, walking toward something that caught her eye. On the far left side of the barn, not far from the fallen man, she found a black car, riddled with bullet holes, the whole of the left side smashed in. Peering into the car's interior, she saw dark stains on the driver's seat, dash and steering wheel. She shuddered, turning away from the vehicle, hugging herself.

Thinking that she didn't feel like lying down, she walked to the door of the barn to lean against the frame and stare out into the night. The pre-dawn sounds of summer greeted her, giving her a false sense of peacefulness. Somewhere, a whippoorwill cried out in bleak despair, its call heard over the boisterous sounds of the insects that summoned the coming day.

As was her habit when she was a little girl, Camille tried to pick out each sound she heard and name the creature that made it. One noise, in particular, caught her attention. It was the deep, sustained booming of a bullfrog. It wasn't so much the amphibian's cry that interested her, but what his presence meant. There was water nearby -- a pond or a lake in which she could swim and bathe.

She didn't want to worry or upset Niko, who was already so concerned over the life of his friend, but the thought of a soothing dip in cool water was far too tempting to ignore. The horizon before her was beginning to pale, streaks of pink light lifting heavenward, as dawn approached. She would be able to find her way with little trouble if she followed the sounds she heard, and she knew she could be back before he missed her.

Returning to the ailing man on the floor of the barn, she touched his forehead, instructing Niko to try to get his friend to swallow some water. As her husband turned to the task she quickly searched the bags of supplies until she found a towel, shampoo, soap, the new underwear and t-shirts they had gotten. She wrapped all the smaller items in the towel, leaving Niko to tend Olan. At the last minute she stopped at the Ford Taurus, opening the door to retrieve the small handgun that Niko had given her.

Once outside, the balmy night air embraced her, welcoming her into its cleansing fold. There was an overgrown path that led in the direction of the croaking bullfrogs; she watched as the sky grew lighter. The path carried her over a slight rise and down an incline to the edge of a large pond. The water was just showing the first signs of the green algae that marked mid-summer on the still waters of the Missouri. The green was mixed with the hues of pink, gray and orange of the approaching sunrise, reflecting off the water in a mesmerizing array.

As she drew near the water, the sound of a loud plopping splash greeted her. A large bullfrog had abandoned his perch on a nearby log at her intrusion. She could just make out his bulging eyes surveying her from the water's surface.

"I'll join you in just a minute," she told the spying creature as she laid out her things on the bank of the pond.

Her first inclination as she peeled off her dirty clothing was to dive headlong into the dark water. She thought better of this, not knowing how shallow the pond was. Once she was naked, allowing the early morning air to caress her nude skin, she waded in, pushing herself out to swim a few strokes before ducking under.

When she came up again, it was to float on her back, allowing the cool air to caress the wet flesh of her belly and breasts. She basked in the pure heavenly sensation of the warm water, feeling as if she had been transported from the hellish nightmare that her life had suddenly become. It was easy to allow the water to wash away the tensions of the past day and a half, to ensconce her in a dream-like state of contentment.

Camille lost herself to the pleasure of the water, failing to notice the lone figure silhouetted against the sunrise on the levee of the pond, a gun in his hand. The man watched her with interest, his eyes settling on her bare nipples and the gentle curve of her belly. He took his thumb off the hammer of the gleaming revolver he carried, allowing his hand to drop to his side, the gun pointed at the ground. He crouched down in the scrub that lined the embankment, observing her through the thicket.