“Where are we?” asks Kim, peering through the windshield while playing with the brown stocking cap the Russians gave her, turning it inside out.
The white deicer truck has its lights on, but the high beams only barely lance through the heavy snow falling ahead of them. Zak has locked the deicer bucket in place in front of the truck’s grill, which leaves the headlights room to shine from either side of it, but the mechanical arm holding the bucket comes over the top of the cab and windshield so that it is somewhat in the way of Gilly’s view of the road.
“We’re on the 472 which will take us back to the A6,” says Gilly.
Kim pulls on the inside out cap. Holes for use as a face mask appear.
“Oh look,” she says, “It’s a baklava!”
“A what?” asks Zak, giving it a look.
“A baklava,” she repeats.
Zak and Gilly both laugh.
“You mean a balaclava,” Zak says.
Gilly hoots.
“It’s not Turkish pastry!”
“Then again,” adds Zak, squinting through its eye holes.
Kim blushes.
“Okay, smart guys. How are we going to ditch this truck? It’s like driving a Do Not Belong Here sign,” she points out.
“We’re lucky so far. We don’t have their drones chasing us,” remarks Gilly.
“She’s got a point, Gil. We gotta get rid of this heap. What about that shopping center on the other side of the A6? We get through this forest preserve and we should be right on it,” offers Zak.
“But how are we going to need a new ride?” says Kim.
“I don’t think we have much choice about that,” says Gilly.
They stay on the 472 and drive under the A6 at the interchange. Just a short distance beyond the interchange they arrive at the entrance to Matarnia Park Shopping Center, the largest in the Tri-cities. They turn right at the light and shoot down the entrance drive to a small traffic circle, hitting the edge of drifts here and there as they go. Snow is rapidly stacking around a red directional pylon sign in the middle of the traffic circle, where an arrow points down the center’s main road. On one side is a big box Swedish furniture outlet in deep blue and yellow, and on the other is a series of two story stores such as TK Maxx. The furniture store is massive even for a big box, over a quarter million square feet, and they drive slowly down its length until being greeted by an entrance to an underground parking garage.
“That must be where we can find a car. I say we ditch the truck and follow somebody to get their keys,” says Kim.
“Well,” says Gilly, “we can’t take the truck there. It’s too tall.”
Zak points to the driveway to the right, which goes into an area serving the furniture outlet.
“Take this lot and we’ll leave it here,” he says.
“Fine,” replies Gilly.
They leave the truck in the parking lot and dash through accumulating snow into the underground, deserted at this hour.
“Alright, what now Jeeves?” Gilly asks, shaking his coat and hair free of the white stuff while looking at Kim.
“Well,” she starts, planting herself and scanning the brightly lit garage, “I say we take up near the exit to the stores and wait for somebody to come by.”
“Man, we don’t have much time,” Gilly responds.
“I’ll be quick,” she reassures.
“And I can’t think of another option,” says Zak.
Positioned out of the way, they wait and in a few minutes a young woman in a heavy red coat leaves her parked car to walk to the stairs.
Kim starts off alone, leaving Zak and Gilly to follow, and is rewarded when the girl enters the food court and heads to one of the restaurant’s employee change areas. Kim stands behind the door, watching through a small window as the girl places her coat and purse in a wooden cubicle, removing her wallet. Kim steps into the nearby kitchen as the girl comes out, afterward going in to look for the girl’s keys.
Zak and Gilly stand in the food court behind a big potted tree, trying not to be conspicuous as they study the snow covered dome of glass over their heads. They are outside the restaurant when Kim appears.
“Did you get them?” asks Zak.
“Yep.”
“Crazy,” remarks Gilly.
“Did you wear your baklava?” Zak kids.
Kim gives him a punch.
With the key fob they return to the parking garage. Kim clicks it and a car’s lights activate several aisles away. They track it down and find that is an old Euro car, very compact.
“Can we fit in that thing?” asks Gilly.
“Losers can’t be choosers,” replies Zak.
Zak holds the front seat forward so Kim can get in the back.
“Let’s just be careful with this thing. I feel bad enough about this,” says Kim as she gives Gilly the keys and folds herself into the rear seat.
“This thing is going to have like zero traction,” warns Gilly, who drops into the driver’s seat and has to adjust it to get his legs in.
Their phones start ringing, all with different tones. It’s Sophie.
“Kimberly! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Soph. How are you guys?”
“Well…”
Rashida appears next to her.
“We got a mysterious call. When we picked up there was no answer,” Rashida tells them.
“You better get out of there! Right now,” says Gilly.
“We’re packing up and should be gone in a few minutes. We just wanted to let you know. But we also got a message from Bog. I’m downloading it to you now. Seems he has some idea about how you can contact UNK.”
Zak sees that he is receiving Bog’s message.
“We’ve done some checking on merchant vessels out of your area and have found a cargo vessel that is leaving today. It has a double berth opening. These kinds of ships can only take twelve passengers without having a doctor on board. I’m downloading that to Kim and would suggest you book it pronto.”
Kina, Megan, and Sophie pop into view long enough to say goodbye. They all have their coats on.
“We’ll see you when we see you,” says Rashida.
“Yeah, Rash, when we see you,” says Zak.
Rashida nods. Her eyes are wet.
“When we see you,” says Kim.
The call ends.
Kim has to clear her throat.
The girls in Paris put a very hasty exit into motion, taking the stairs and walking their bags out through the hotel lobby without drawing anyone’s attention. They make it through the lobby’s Christmas lights and past its brightly lit, ornate Christmas tree, Sophie and Megan in front, Kina and Rashida behind.
“Don’t look now,” says Kina to Rashida in a low voice, “but there are cops getting into the elevator.”
Rashida looks over her shoulder and sees several uniformed men as the elevator doors close.
“I got news for you,” Rashida replies, “They’re not cops.”
Together the four young women float out the front doors of the hotel into the cold night, passing between the showy pair of outdoor Christmas trees, and into a waiting cab.
Chapter 78