Power in Time

Chapter 2

Instead of being surrounded by trashy stink, brick walls, and shadows, they were now in a clearing. A mountain loomed in front of them, and a lush green forest filled the peripherals of her vision. The blinding sun and sweet, sharp air almost seemed foreign. Maybe she was dreaming. Hopefully she was dreaming.

Where the heck am I?

Lark’s mind couldn’t catch up to what was happening. Whatever was making her feel sick must be playing tricks with her eyes as well. Even colors were...off. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but the grass beneath her feet almost looked too green. Was that even possible? Her head felt fuzzy.

Conan had removed his hand from her mouth but still held her in his iron grip.

“W-w-what just happened?” Apparently, Lark’s voice had also not caught up with the rest of her. Not that it seemed to matter, as no one bothered answering.

At the end of the clearing, she could make out a long bus surrounded by another ten or so black-clad strangers. The bus was a dark brown, with “CampCraft Rentals!” splayed across the side in bold, yellow letters.

“What’s going on?” Lark hated how small her voice was. She cleared her throat. “Who are you people?”

No one answered her as they walked toward the group surrounding the bus and what looked like motorcycles on the side of the road. Mr. Salt and Pepper stopped Conan and another of his men halfway toward the dirt road.

He handed the young soldier a syringe, then turned to Lark. “Forgive us, but time is short, and our priority is to keep you safe; I know no other way, considering your frame of mind. You need rest for the bonding. All will be explained as soon as we are in a safer position.”

With that, he strode toward the larger group, talking in urgent tones with another one of his men.

Lark stared after him, uncomprehending. Her thoughts were mush, and Mr. Salt and Pepper wasn’t making any sense. She watched him gesture with short, anxious movements from the waiting group toward the mountain. They all wore the same plain black uniforms, and everyone sported holstered guns—some on their hips, some strapped to their thighs or calves. Lark focused her tired gaze on the young man still in front of her, the one with the syringe.

He stepped forward with regret in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

When Lark’s muddled mind finally realized she was going to be injected with something, adrenaline momentarily suppressed her nausea and sent strength surging into her shaky limbs.

“No!” she shrieked, kicking out her right leg. Her foot hit the man square in the chest, the force sending him sprawling.

Lark was not the only one surprised at the success of her attack. Conan loosened his concentration and grip just enough for her to squirm out of his grasp at last. She spun and sprinted past Conan, realizing the muddy liquid they just walked through had disappeared. Instead, her eyes zeroed in on the man holding her backpack.

Lunging toward him, she threw her elbow, smashing it into his jaw. He stumbled back, and she wrenched her backpack from his grasp.

“Sorry!” she called back, heart thudding wildly as she sprinted for the cover of the trees, ignoring the calls that followed her. She chided herself for feeling bad about leaving the guys sprawled like that. Why should she feel guilty? They were the ones who had kidnapped her. She was totally justified…ugh. “Sorry,” she whispered again.

Sometimes, she really wanted to smack herself.

Trying to keep the weakness from creeping back into her legs, she ran blindly through the trees. What was in the water Franklin threw on her?

She finally stopped when she stumbled over something and nearly fell flat on her face. She stared with horror at the large dead animal in front of her. Then confusion warred with horror as she realized the animal was a tiger.

What was a tiger doing in a forest? She looked around, confirming she was indeed in a forest, not a jungle. Trees were not her area of expertise, but she did know you didn’t usually find pine and oak trees in a jungle.

The tiger’s body was destroyed with burns and covered in blood, apparently making the fur useless. The sick poachers had only taken the head. The gruesome sight and the stench of death combined with her upset stomach, making Lark want to heave. She took a few precious moments to take some deep breaths and push down the threatening nausea.

Just as she prepared to run again, she heard a soft cry from a cluster of nearby rocks. She took an involuntary step toward the noise, her heartstrings plucking painfully.

No, Lark. She turned resolutely away. You’ve got to get out of here!

She could already hear the troop coming after her, but she couldn’t walk away from the plaintive mewling that started up again.

After touching the dog tags tucked under her shirt, Lark followed the cries and discovered a small burrow below an overhanging rock. She peered in and saw the most adorable fluffball of a white tiger cub hunched up.

She rested her backpack against the rock before coaxing the cub out, not without a few bites and scratches. The cub was so tiny. Lark wasn’t sure it was even weaned yet.

“Oh, poor baby. You’re all alone too, aren’t you? This must have been your mama.”

The struggle with Lark seemed to have completely exhausted the small, female cub. With a weak cry, she stopped struggling, either understanding she was safe with this new creature or too exhausted to fight anymore.

When she blinked light blue eyes at Lark, the feline and human sighed together. Lark wasn’t sure why, but having the cub curl up in her arms felt necessary somehow—it felt right. Even her nausea subsided a bit.

In that moment, she realized how lonely she had become. Staying busy with work and school had been a way to help ease the sting of being on her own for several years, but it could never heal the wounds.

Conan, leading a couple other men, emerged from the trees.

Lark glared at him defiantly.

“Please.” He sounded frustrated.

Join the club, bud.

“I know it’s hard to imagine right now, but we want to help you.” Conan’s voice softened a touch.

Lark knew she couldn’t outrun them now. Her head was pounding too much to run anymore.

“You won’t hurt her?” she asked, cradling the cub protectively. There was no logical reason for it, but Lark’s heart rate spiked just thinking about anything happening to the cub.

“We wouldn’t dream of it.” Conan promised.

Lark took a hesitant step closer. “Is someone going to give me some answers soon?”

“Once you’ve had some rest. You don’t look like you can stand much longer.” He gave what was probably the most concerned look she had seen on his face yet.

He was probably right. Her adrenaline was spent, and more soldiers had circled behind. All of them looked at the mother tiger. Lark was surprised to see anger, disgust, and a little bit of worry in their glances. She didn’t have time to figure out how she felt about that.

Conan held out his arm. “Please. We must hurry.”

Lark took a deep breath before allowing herself to be escorted back to the clearing, hugging the now-sleeping cub to herself.