Chapter 47: The Escape
When Elliot awoke, he found that he had a throbbing headache. He had a loose hood placed over his head and he was bound to a chair. The young captive was sweating underneath the hood. He listened intently to all around him but could hear very little. Perhaps, he thought to himself he was in a room on his own. After less than a minute of waking up, the young man attempted to wriggle free without success.
Shortly after this the young man thought he heard the sound of a man struggling to speak. It sounded as if there was another captive only several feet away who was also bound but partially gagged. Ackbar? Elliot asked himself. The struggle was too angry and aggressive to be Ackbar. For the next ten minutes Elliot’s head was filled with possibilities as to who the mysterious person, in the same room, was.
The young man’s curiosity was still piqued when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Eventually the footsteps came closer and the door of the room was unlocked. Evidently, judging from the level of noise from each step, both of the men or women were tall and heavy, possibly Reapers.
“Elliot Tomkins,” a loud and heavy voice said eventually. Upon hearing his name mentioned with such menace it sent a shiver down the captive’s spine. Still, Elliot could not see anything.
“We’ve been tracking you for some time. We tracked you to a town called Capville about four years ago but since then you’ve disappeared off our radar. What have you been doing in those four years Mr Tomkins?”
Elliot didn’t respond. In his mind he wondered if he had anything to conceal. They probably knew all about the space station that was now most likely destroyed. They probably also knew about Ackbar and Mr Wagner. It was most likely Elliot who knew the least. His mind was now racing with a thousand questions. He wanted to know who if any of his friends had survived. Most likely he wasn’t going to get any answers, at least not while he was bound to a chair and in total darkness.
“Answer me Tomkins,” the towering man bellowed.
Elliot wasn’t inclined to answer. Little as he had to conceal, he didn’t respect rats. I am not a rat, he thought to himself.
Suddenly, the young man received a blow to the head. Painful as his head had been before, his headache now felt ten times worse.
“Where are your friends?” the Reaper asked aloud.
Friends? Elliot thought to himself. Perhaps some of them had gotten away. In the darkness, this one question had shone a light on his heart. He was no longer ready to die, he had something to live for.
This time the blow was to Elliot’s stomach. He winced in pain once more. The blows and the questions kept coming for what seemed like an eternity, but still, Elliot did not speak. He was sure that his nose was broken, along with every other bone in his body but he could not cave in. He couldn’t.
Chester Bucannon had been a security guard for two months now in a little known army base in the heart of America. His job for the last two weeks was to guard a room. Chester did not know what was in the room he was guarding but every now and then Reapers would go in and out. Sometimes he would hear screams of pain and sometimes shouting. It repeatedly preyed on his mind as to who would possibly be in that room, tied and gagged.
One Morning at about 8:00, Chester decided to find out. He fumbled for the correct key and opened the door. It was dark, so he reached for the light switch. Chester could see two men bound and gagged with loose hoods over their heads. He removed the first hood and saw a badly beaten young man who he didn’t recognise. Quickly he replaced the hood. The security guard moved to the next captive and removed the hood. He reeled back in shock. It looked like the President of the United States of America. A million thoughts raced around in the security guards mind. If the President is here that must mean that the one in the White House is a fraud, he told himself. The President must have been kidnapped and beaten by the Reapers.
Suddenly the state employee had an epiphany. This is my big opportunity, Chester thought to himself. I’m going to be a hero. I’m going to save the President of the United States.
The security guard proceeded to remove the bounds that restrained the badly beaten politician.
“Are you ok man?” he asked in a concerned tone.
It looked like the captive had spent weeks tied to a chair and was struggling to stand up. He engaged himself in a series of unorthodox stretching exercises in order to loosen himself up and get some blood circulation going.
“Hey man are you ok?” Chester asked again
In an instant however President Westwood lunged for the Security Guard’s gun. The politician changed form to a man that Chester didn’t recognise. “Holy shit,” he declared, “a changeling.”
The changeling proceeded to bind and gag the security guard to the chair. I am in serious trouble now, Chester thought to himself. What a clown, an idiot. My job is gone now. What will my wife think of this?
The Changeling then removed the hood from the other captive.
Elliot was initially stunned by the light but then recognised the Kylot in front of him. “Jeff,” he tried to say through his gagged mouth.
Jeff proceeded to loosen the rope that bound him but did not remove them fully. “You’re on your own kid,” Jeff said in a whisper. “You’re a liability to me.” Elliot went from elation to dejection. For a moment he thought that Jeff’s hardened personality was showing signs of softening, but he was wrong.
Jeff turned into a Reaper, grabbed a robe that was hanging on a hook on the wall and left the room.
Jeff strode down a long corridor and down a winding stairway. Three of the individuals he passed by were security guards, others appeared to be FBI agents in suits. As Jeff strode down the corridor, he noticed that many of the people he passed by were intimidated by him. It was the perfect disguise. Nobody other than another Reaper would be able to catch him out now. Up to this point not one of them said hello or asked him a question.
At the end of another long corridor, Jeff could see the entrance to the building. Standing there were more security guards. All he had to do, it appeared, was walk straight out the door to freedom.
Elliot felt very nervous. He was wearing a security guards uniform that was several sizes too big for him. Even the belt that kept everything together barely fit around his waist. He was however grateful to have a shot at freedom even if it would be difficult to navigate his way out of the complex without being detected.
The adolescent’s face had also seen better days, after being pummelled by a Reaper. He was battered and bruised and his head hurt. Breathing was also difficult through the damaged nose of his.
In front of the young captive, were three security guards in conversation. One of them, who was about forty years old with chestnut hair, turned around and addressed him.
“Who are you?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you before.”
“I’m the new guy.”
“What happened to your face.”
“A reaper took a dislike to me. Scary feckers they are. If only I was seven foot tall.”
“I don’t remember any mention of a new guy,” the forty year old declared, turning to address his colleagues. “Me neither,” a dark skinned, blue eyed and overweight co-worker responded.
“Hold it right there,” the security guard with the chestnut hair instructed him before picking up his radio and calling the front desk. “Charlie,” he addressed the security guard on the other end of the line. “do we have any reports of a new staff member on security detail this week?”
Before Charlie could answer a Reaper grabbed his walkie talkie and turned it off. “So this is where you are,” the tall and intimidating Reaper addressed Elliot. “I thought I told you to do as you were told. You’ve abandoned your post again. Couldn’t find your proper uniform eh?” The man in the black robe then gave him a clip round the ear. Even though Elliot’s head hurt, this was one belt he was glad to receive as he walked by the open mouthed security guards. Elliot was sure that this Reaper was in fact Jeff.
“If you don’t do your job instead of standing around talking,” Jeff said, “then I’ll have to deal with you too. Don’t push me. Get back to work.”
When they reached the end of the corridor Elliot breathed a sigh of relief. The young escapee was careful not to trip over his relatively long trousers as he walked down the stairs. When they reached the next corridor, Jeff delivered a kick to Elliot’s behind every now and again. Nobody stopped them to ask any questions until they reached the front desk.
The head of security reluctantly stood in their path. “Who is this kid?” he asked
“Some punk who wants to be a security guard,” Jeff replied. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take him outside and take him to task.”
The head of security didn’t feel inclined to ask any more questions. Jeff gave the young captive another kick for good measure.
Outside of the building was a large open space made of concrete. Some distance away was the front gate, surrounded along the perimeter by a barbed wire fence. Not very far away was a young army Private sitting in the driver seat of a jeep.
“You there.” Jeff addressed the young army recruit. “I have to take this man to Birkenshaw,”
“I’m sorry but I’m waiting for the General.”
“Let me handle the General. This is important. This is a matter of National Security. This man here is part of a plot to kill the President. Do I have your attention? I assure you. You will be rewarded. You might even get a medal. The General can sod off. Are you with me?”
Reluctantly the Army Private nodded his head and the three of them were driven to the front gate. All the time Elliot avoided looking around him and making eye contact with the Army officers and other individuals on the base. He didn’t want to draw any unwanted attention upon himself.
Corporal Estevan saw a jeep approaching the front gate. He could see that one of the passengers in the jeep was a Reaper. These hooded men always terrified the life out of him. All of them were tall and intimidating and in almost all cases, they abused their position and influence.
The army corporal was nervous as the jeep came to a stop. The other occupants were an Army Private and a battered looking security guard who looked like he had gone through some rapid weight loss.
“Corporal, we’re on emergency business. We’ve got to get these guys to Birkenshaw.”
“Birkenshaw?” the Corporal reacted without giving the matter much thought. “I’ve never heard of Birkenshaw.”
The Reaper who had been quiet and facing forward up to this point, turned his head. It was enough to send fear down the Corporal’s spine. I shouldn’t have said that, he thought to himself.
“Ok, you are free to go,” the Corporal responded, and a short time later the barrier was raised and the jeep sped away.
As they did so, the Corporal breathed a sigh of relief.
This suits me, Jeff thought to himself.
The Jeep was twelve miles down the road when Jeff asked the Army Private to drive down a side road. As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Jeff belted the soldier over the head, rendering him unconscious.
“Take off his clothes,” Jeff ordered his fellow escapee.
Elliot proceeded to remove the army privates, uniform, socks and boots. As he did so, Jeff destroyed all of the communications equipment on the jeep and slashed its tyres. Both men then dragged his body from the jeep, deep into a small forest nearby and bound and tied him to a tree.
“Why did you come back for me?” Elliot asked his fellow fugitive.
“I didn’t come back for you. If you haven’t realised, this is no time for chit chat. Save your energy. We have a lot of running ahead of us. Besides, there’s not much point to life if you can’t give out to someone every once in a while.”
Jeff started to run deeper into the forest. Instinctively Elliot followed. His heart was beating. He was a fugitive once more and soon would be hunted by the army, the police and the Reapers and that scared him.
The leader of the Reapers entered the Army base at Pennington, just outside the City of Burbank, flanked by three of his associates. All of them stood more than six foot six inches tall. They had been told that the captive known as Elliot Tomkins had not been responding to the questions posed by a member of their team. The leader was sure that eventually the interrogation would yield results. It was only a matter of time.
Tomkins had been detained in room 205, up one flight of winding stairs and the fifth door to the right on the left hand side of the corridor. The Reapers had also been accompanied by the head of security, Dane Elliot. With every step Dane kept praying to God that he did not irritate or annoy them in any way.
Eventually they reached room 205.
“Where is the security guard?” the leader of the Reapers asked.
Now that the Reaper had mentioned it, Dane thought it was a little strange. He was so nervous that the thought hadn’t occurred to him.
Dane turned the key and opened the door. He was sweating as he did so. Once he opened the door, he could see a bound and gagged gaunt and pale skinned security guard but no prisoners. “Chester, what have you done?” Dane asked, hoping to divert the blame away from him. The head of security untied the gag around Chester Bucannon’s mouth.
“I’m sorry sir but they escaped,” Chester replied.
“I can see that Chester. How and when?”
“I’m not sure sir, how long ago. Maybe half an hour, but I did notice one of them robes is missing. It was a changeling that done it. Please don’t take my job from me. Please sir.”
The leader of the reapers then grabbed Dane around the top of his vest and squeezed tight. “You better find them now or you will answer to me for it.”
Dane was extremely scared now. He turned on his radio and made an announcement via the intercom at the base. “We have a code red,” he said nervously. “Two prisoners have escaped. One of them, a changeling may be posing as a Reaper. The other, may be badly bruised and wearing the uniform of a security guard. If anyone has any information on the whereabouts of these men, meet me at the information centre. Repeat, code red.”
The head of security then rushed to the security centre. Once inside, he addressed a man of medium height with dark hair, a tanned complexion and glasses. “What have you got for me Lenny?” he asked.
“I’m still scanning,” Lenny replied as they both looked at a several screens in front of them that all seemed to be in rewind mode. Both of them focused intently on the screens in front of them. “Stop it right there,” Dane instructed him. “That guy dressed as a Reaper is our man. Can you track his movements?”
Lenny proceeded to track the movements of the hooded man and his fellow escapee on the video throughout the facility. Eventually the video screens showed, both individuals leaving in General Brockheart’s jeep.
“That’s the General’s jeep, there. The General just spoke to me before you came in. This is him here,” Lenny said introducing the General who had been standing at towards the back of the room.
“I want that jeep found,” the General declared, “find the jeep and you find the culprits.”
At this point a Lieutenant entered the control room.
“Lieutenant have you found my jeep yet?” the General questioned him.
“I’ve dispatched four units to help find it General.”
“And get me that clown of a Corporal who let him go will you? I want to make an example of him.”
In the midst of these conversations, the leader of the Reapers who had been observing the videos in the security centre left the room. He was enraged and was determined to capture Elliot Tomkins and make him regret that they had ever crossed paths.
Elliot had been running for the best part of forty minutes when he heard the first sound of sirens in the distance. Helicopters could also be heard approaching. They were now in a thick forest which would be difficult for any helicopter to see through.
Elliot had been afraid to say anything to Jeff for a while now. Every time he thought of a question, he wondered how Jeff would react to it. Each time he wasn’t brave enough to put it out there.
After forty minutes of running, Elliot was exhausted. Jeff probably was too, but was also most likely afraid to admit to it.
“Hold on,” Jeff said eventually, moving towards the trunk of a large tree, “take cover.”
And so they waited. The helicopters seemed close but it was hard to tell exactly how close without looking directly at them. They could also hear the sound of sirens in the distance and also some barking dogs. After what seemed like an age, but was probably only five or ten minutes, the helicopters moved on and Jeff and Elliot decided to run again once more. Or Jeff decided, and Elliot didn’t disagree.
A further half an hour was spent running past trees, over streams, through rocky terrain and muddy terrain. Elliot’s legs were sore and he felt as though he couldn’t run much further. He had no doubt that Jeff felt the same. Most frightening of all was the fact that the army wasn’t just closing in from behind them, they also seemed to be approaching from the direction they were running to and from either side. It seemed inevitable that they would be caught.
Jeff came to a stop, in order to give the matter some thought. He looked around. They had just descended down a small hill covered in trees. In front of them was a small rocky stream and behind it was another hill. As Elliot caught his breath, he spoke. “What do we do now?”
“Well if you have any bright ideas, speak up,” Jeff growled. “I am not going back there. I am not going down without a fight. Do you hear me? I’d rather eat frogs all day long and I hate frogs.”
The truth was that Elliot didn’t have any ideas. He looked all around him. He even looked up at the trees above them but knew that even climbing a tall tree wasn’t the brightest idea in the world.
Then, just as Elliot thought he would implode with fear and desperation, he heard a voice call out. “Over here,” it seemed to say. It sounded like the voice of a young boy. As Elliot turned around he could see a young boy of about eleven years old, only wearing a short trousers. He was bare chested and had marks of dirt on his torso, on his feet and on his face.
“Let’s follow him,” Elliot suggested.
“He’s just a feckin’ kid,” Jeff moaned What’s the point.”
“Have you any better ideas?” Elliot responded in frustration.
For once, Jeff was silent and reluctantly followed the others.
The boy walked a hundred yards along the stream, before stopping. The sound of barking dogs was now getting louder and soon they would come into view.
The boy reached down to the ground and lifted what appeared to be a large mat, on top of which was a soil and foliage. It was barely noticeable, but when the boy lifted the mat it revealed the opening of a small cave.
“I’m not going in there,” Jeff muttered when he looked at how rocky and uneven it appeared to be inside. “You don’t have a choice,” Elliot responded. Reluctantly Jeff entered and the other two followed. When the boy left down the door of the cave, they were left in darkness. The cave did not appear to be very big. Jeff felt his way around in the dark, looking for a more comfortable sitting position, but the more he tried, the more uncomfortable it appeared to become.
The sound of dogs and hunters, came closer and closer. Even though Elliot had been captured for a very short time, he was desperate to avoid being put through the same experience again. His face and stomach still hurt from his previous beatings. As the trackers, came nearer he hoped and prayed that they would move away.
The hunters came so close that Elliot could hear some muffled conversation. With each passing second his heart seemed to leap out further from his chest. The dogs were barking loudly as if they thought they were on to something, but after a minute or two the trackers moved away again.
Elliot, Jeff and the young boy remained there for several minutes in the darkness without moving. The young man was struggling to breathe properly through his damaged nose, but he knew that he had to remain as quiet and still as possible. His life depended on it. After about ten minutes, Elliot started to mutter something aloud, but the young boy placed his finger against his lips. They stayed there for several hours, listening intently to the world outside and cramped in an uncomfortable position. Eventually the boy decided to lift up the entrance to their secret hiding place and look around. Outside, there remained only gentle rays of light. Evening was approaching.
“You wait here,” he whispered as he started to search the area for signs of the army or reapers.
“I don’t trust this guy,” Jeff whispered.
“You don’t trust anybody Jeff,” Elliot replied. “What could be worse than going back to the army base? We can’t rely on ourselves to survive on our own. We will need to count on someone for help.”
“He’s only a kid. It seems fishy to me,” Jeff responded pessimistically “All alone in the middle of a forest next to an army base. Definitely fishy.”
Elliot didn’t say anything. He was afraid that too much conversation would only attract unwanted attention.
After what seemed like twenty minutes later, the boy returned.
“Come with me,” he said gesturing with his hand.
Elliot’s joints were sore from the running and the subsequent squatting. Gingerly he picked himself up and apprehensively looked all around him. The sun had gone down over the mountains and the stars filled the night sky. Aside from the hooting of owls and the noises made by crickets and rodents, there was little else to be heard.
Neither Elliot nor Jeff said anything. They followed the boy without saying a word. He led them back along the stream. They crossed the stream after about a mile, balancing on a large log as they did so. They then marched up a hill, still within the forest. Elliot was incredibly hungry but once more was careful not to say anything. The temperature was also getting colder and there was a cold wind blowing against their bodies. He hoped that putting up with these inconveniences would prove to be worth it.
At one point the boy turned to his comrades and put his hands to his lips. They could barely see him but understood his intentions instantly. As quiet as a mouse, the boy crouched behind a bush, Elliot and Jeff followed.
After a few seconds, Elliot could see exactly why the young boy did this. There were three men approaching with guns in their hands.
“Did you hear that?” One of the armed men said aloud
“I didn’t hear anything,” another said.
“There it is again.”
“Bellem, you’re as deaf as a doornail at the best of times.”
“I’ll show you who’s deaf.”
“Cut it out you two,” the third man said. “We’ll never catch these two critters if ye two don’t quieten down.”
“I’m telling you I heard something.”
At this point, the three armed men were only feet away from the two fugitives and the boy. If the gunmen looked directly at them, they would surely see them.
Elliot’s instincts told him that these were not Reapers, Army men or police officers but vigilantes who hunted perceived changelings for fun.
The taller of the three men stood, a short distance beyond the bush and put out his hand to silence the other two. Elliot was incredibly frightened but tried to remain as quiet and as calm as possible. Suddenly a rabbit ran out of nowhere across the path of the hunters. “Is that what you heard, Bellem? A rabbit?”
“It was no rabbit.” Bellem replied.
“Be quiet you two,” the taller of the three responded as they kept walking in a straight line past the fugitives. Two minutes later they were gone from sight.
The young boy led the way once more, up and down hills, out of the forest and through vast fields of grass. It seemed as if they had been travelling for twenty miles when they came to the edge of a city. Elliot thought he would collapse if he didn’t get his hands on some food quickly.
The boy led them to a small farm about two miles from the city. On this small farm they seemed to have cattle, horses, sheep, pigs and hens. It was probably after five in the morning. The boy pressed the doorbell.
An old woman answered the door and without saying a word she beckoned all three of them into the cottage. She could have been in her nineties with long white hair tied in a pony tail. Despite her age she seemed both slim and nimble on her feet. In the young man’s opinion the old woman appeared to be quite hospitable and genuine. He hoped that this would prove to be the case.
Elliot had never been so relieved to meet a friendly face in his life. The old woman did not turn on any lights for fear of drawing any unwanted attention to them. “You must be starving,” she said in a whisper as she opened her cupboard. She removed some bread and butter and placed it on the table. She started cutting it into slices and spreading butter over it. Elliot was afraid to talk unless it was absolutely necessary. He picked up some bread and started eating. The old woman moved to her fridge, removed some rashers, eggs and sausages and started to prepare an early breakfast.
As soon as their plates were filled with wholesome food, the old lady sat down with them.
“Who are your two friends, Atticus?” the old lady asked the boy.
“We haven’t had time to talk mam.”
“This one looks familiar,” she said, referring to Elliot. “You were in the news, weren’t you? I never forget a face. You were on the news just last night.”
Elliot was scared. If the Reapers had gone public in an attempt to root him out, then there was little or no hope of his survival. He wasn’t like Jeff. Jeff could just change form. This was who he was and he couldn’t disguise it. Even if the Reapers didn’t catch him, they would surely find someone willing to betray him.
Jeff did not say anything but grumbled his disapproval. It was in fact a while since Jeff had said anything at all. It was most unlike him.
“My name is Elliot and this is…,” the young man said, pausing to consider whether Jeff would want to be identified by his real name.
“My name is Kent,” Jeff interrupted, “Kent Clark. I’m just passing through.”
“Well then, you know Atticus here,” the old lady declared. “He is such a wonderful young boy. You’re not the first people he has rescued. You are both very welcome here. My name is Wren. Wren Underwood. Myself and Jackson, my husband have been living here for more than fifty years. The last five years have been the worst by far. These damned Reapers and that President of ours. I’d just like to ring their necks.
Atticus can show you to the cellar where you can catch some much needed rest. You probably will need it. Once you are rested Atticus can lead you to a place where you will find fugitives like you. Brothers in arms. Sometimes the police call by to this house and it isn’t entirely safe. They called by last night. We’re not entirely above suspicion. Nobody is safe these days.”
Elliot was exhausted. He just wanted to collapse on top of a warm comfortable bed and fall asleep. When they had finished eating, he thanked Wren for the lovely meal. Even Jeff muttered something incoherent that sounded like he was trying to pay her a begrudging compliment.
Atticus lifted a mat in the living room and opened a concealed door in the floor. A very steep, winding, wooden staircase was visible. Once more the young boy led the way. Atticus turned on a light. Two narrow wooden beds with mattresses and some bedclothes were visible. Beneath them was a wooded floor.
“I can take the floor,” Atticus suggested generously. “You both can take the beds.”
Neither Elliot nor Jeff were inclined to object.
Sargent Humstable knocked on the door of the Underwood cottage. He was nervous. It wasn’t every day that a Reaper accompanied him. This particular Reaper was almost seven foot tall and didn’t exactly have a happy go lucky type of personality.
After about two minutes, Mrs Underwood answered the door.
“Sorry to bother you Mrs Underwood, but we have to search the premises.” Without, giving her enough time to respond, the Sargent’s two accompanying police officer’s barged past her. Without warning they searched the premises, overturning furniture, pots and pans, and checking the walls for any possible cavities. After five minutes, Mrs Underwood, Sargent Humstable and the Reaper stood in the living room. “Are there any other rooms in this house?” the Reaper asked.
“Why no,” the old lady replied
The reaper, bent down and removed the rug in the centre of the room. He then opened the trapdoor. “Why that’s just the cellar,” Mrs Underwood replied.
Sargent Humstable was never aware of the cellar being there before, but even he did not want to say anything.
The Reaper climbed down and turned on the light. There two large kegs located in the cellar with taps protruding from them. Other than this, there was a small open space with a wooden floor. “They were here,” the Reaper declared. “I can smell them.”
While most of the walls of the cellar were made of brick, the fourth wall appeared to have wooden panelling. The Reaper attempted to rip the wooden panels from the walls. He continued vandalising the wall for almost a minute.
“Beds,” he declared. “You have beds here. Where are they”
“I don’t know what you are talking about young man,” the old lady responded in as calm and dignified a manner as she could muster.
“Where are they?” he repeated in a loud and angry voice.
“Don’t take that tone with me young man,” Wren replied.
This time the large Reaper slapped the old woman across the face. “Where are they?” he repeated.
Elliot found the smell of the sewer quite hard to take. He understood that Atticus was leading them to an underground layer of fugitives hiding beneath a large city. Elliot did not find the large number of rats at his feet a significant problem as long as they ignored him as much as he wanted to ignore them. The tunnels that made up the sewer were also quite low and wet. Quite often Elliot would have to bend his head or crouch on all fours in order to avoid hitting his head against the ceiling.
Led by Atticus burning torch for what seemed like an hour the three individuals eventually reached a large room where a number of tunnels met. For one reason or another the smell in this area did not seem as bad as in the tunnels. In this large area, were several large wooden structures that helped to form numerous beds that went almost twenty feet high around its perimeter. There must have been sixty beds in all in this area, almost half of which were occupied.
“Who are these people?” a large strongly built man asked aloud as he approached. He was completely bald, with brown skin and wore rags that stained with dirt. Their original colour looked to be a shade dark yellow.
“They are friends,” Atticus declared. “The Reapers are looking for them.”
“Even I recognise this man,” the man of African descent declared. “They might bring more trouble than they are worth. How do we know they are not changelings impersonating fugitives in an attempt to infiltrate our group.”
“If we are unwanted here,” Jeff replied, “I don’t see why I should stay. I can look after myself. Elliot here was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He may need more looking after. I’m not going to be a burden on you. I wouldn’t want to impinge on you. You lot would probably only weigh me down just like he has.”
“Nobody is a burden on us,” Alexis spoke up. “We leave no one behind. Any friend of Atticus is a friend of mine.”
At this point a group of three men and a woman entered the same large room. They brought with them, several dead rabbits, some small fish and a fox.
“What have we got here,” Clayton asked aloud.
“New recruits,” Atticus replied.
“Have they been vetted?” Stanislas asked.
“They are wanted by the police,” Atticus replied with conviction. “I trust them.”
“This one looks soft,” Dorothy declared, referring to Elliot. “He’s not hunting material. I bet he wouldn’t last two days down here.”
“How did you come to meet them?” Stanislas asked the young boy.
“They were being chased by the police, the army and the Reapers. I helped them. I trust them.”
“I know this guy,” Clayton declared, referring to Elliot. “He’s all over the news. This is bad. If anyone sees this guy in public, we’re in trouble. Trust me. These guys are more trouble than their worth.”
“We have a motto here, Clayton,” Stanislas responded. “It applies to everyone. No man or woman gets left behind. No one. If they are moles, then that is a different story, but we can’t throw them out because they are soft. Besides, now they know where we are. If we did throw them out we would be taking an even greater chance.”
“We could kill them” Clayton suggested.
Elliot’s blood ran cold at this suggestion. His safety and future prospects seemed to be dangling by a thread. He was at their mercy.
“If we were to kill them we would be just as bad as the Kylons we oppose so vehemently,” Stanislas responded authoritatively.
Clayton appeared to back down from eyeballing Stanislas. It appeared for the moment at least that Elliot owed Stanislas and Atticus a great debt.