Page 33 of Hellbent

“‘Never kill a kid.’” She brushed her hair out of her face, her lips slightly parted, her expression heavy with something like awe. When she spoke again, it was a whisper. “You’re Orphan X.”

The wood creaked around them. Dust motes swirled, fuzzing the air. Evan gave the faintest nod.

“Evan,” she said. There was something intimate in her saying his first name. “He told me about you.”

“He didn’t tell me about you.”

“Jack saved me when I broke with the Program.”

“Saved you?”

“You know how it is with Van Sciver. Either you’re with him. Or.” She didn’t have to complete the thought. “Look, I told you. I’m not a government weapon. I’m not an Orphan. I’m just a girl.”

It dawned on him, a full-body shiver like a wash of cold water. He sat down against the Caddy’s bumper. Tilted his forehead into the tent of his fingers.

“What?” she said.

“Jack wants me to look after you.”

“Look after me?”

Evan gazed up at her, felt the blood drain from his face. “You’re the package.”

* * *

They moved beneath the bright moon, high-stepping through a field of summer squash, vectoring for the truck Evan had scouted earlier. Joey’s bulging rucksack bounced on her shoulders, made her lean frame look schoolgirl small.

What the hell had Jack been thinking? Evan felt a pang of something unfamiliar. Guilt? He pictured Jack free-falling through the Alabama night and let in some rage to wash the guilt away.

“Let’s be clear,” Evan said. “I’m not Jack. It’s not what I do. I’ll get you to safety, square you away, and that’ll be that.”

Her face had closed off again. Unreadable. Their boots squelched. An owl was at it in one of the dark trees, asking the age-old question: Who? Who?

“How’d Van Sciver’s men find my apartment?” she asked.

“They were closing in on Jack. They must’ve gotten the address somewhere, staked it out.”

“You sure you weren’t followed?”

“Yes.”

“If they knew I was there, why wouldn’t they just have killed me?”

“Because I’m more valuable to them.”

“Oh. So they only let me live to lure you in.”

“Yes.”

A burning in his cheek announced itself. He raised his fingertips, felt a distinct edge. He picked out the safety-glass pebble and flicked it to the ground.

The girl was talking again. “Van Sciver had Jack killed.”

He kept on, letting her process it. It was a lot to process.

She dimpled her lower lip between her teeth. “I can help you go after Van Sciver.”

Evan halted, faced her in the moonlight. “How old are you?”