Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
A frog and a bird and his brilliant buddy’s app had gotten them this far. Some good assumptions and a stop at a bookstore had gotten them even closer.
Now he was looking to narrow in on a cabin about twenty miles from a comic bookstore, and a couple of restaurants that packed to-go items in paper bags that also happened to be located just slightly to the east of Southwest flight 4010’s path.
Rex used the business locations, the map of the area, what he knew of contrails, and the radar information to zone in on a latitude and longitude.
Then he used the map and pointed to the location. “Here,” he said.
Cami had watched silently as he’d gone through his calculations, and he could practically feel her energy thrumming next to him. “McWay Falls,” she murmured. “Oh my God, could that be the sound from the window and not the ocean?”
He nodded slowly. When he recalled the sound, he thought it might have been more of a steady roar rather than a crash and recede, even if the sound had been far enough away not to have stood out at the time. Rex quickly went over his list of cabins. There were two possibilities, but one was a small grouping of cabins that had been built near several hiking trails.
The other one was a lone cabin deeper in the woods and far off the beaten path. He turned to the computer, checking that Cyrus was still okay, and then pulled up a satellite view and zoomed in on the location of the cabin.
It looked like your average cabin, rustic and charming, with a tiny porch on the front. He dragged his cursor to see all sides but, because of the trees, could only view a small sliver of the back. “I don’t see any bars on the window,” Cami said.
“Satellite images aren’t in real time, though,” he murmured. He typed in the address of the rental cabin and scrolled through the available information. “It looks like it’s a corporation that rents it out,” he said. Then he typed in the site where they’d rented the property they were currently sitting in. “And it’s currently unavailable.” He turned to her. “I’m going to go check it out.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, I think you should stay here and monitor Cyrus. And text me if—” His words died as the door to Cyrus’s room opened.
“The pancakes,” Cami said.
Rex enlarged the view of the room where Cyrus was being kept prisoner, Cami letting out a gasp as simultaneously the door swung open and Cyrus turned away, his arms grasping the bedframe before he jumped to his feet.
“What the—” Rex breathed.
It happened in an instant. Cyrus turned, a piece of the metal frame grasped in his hands as he seemed to fly from his higher ground on the bed, the man with the Styrofoam boxes caught off guard, food flipping into the air. Cyrus let out a roar as the piece of bedframe—now a weapon—made contact with the man’s stomach. The man screamed, right before Cyrus pulled something from his pocket and jabbed it in the man’s eye. Another piercing scream made Cami grab Rex’s arm as the wounded man on the screen doubled over, simultaneously cupping his bleeding eye and clutching his midriff.
Then Cyrus jumped off the bed and clubbed the man over the head. The guy went down to the ground in the mess of pancakes and bacon with a soft oof as Cyrus raced out the door.
“Oh my God!” Cami said with a small sob, clutching at Rex’s sleeve. Rex was used to unexpected turns of events, but this one he hadn’t remotely seen coming.
The whole thing had looked highly choreographed. Was that what the kid had been doing as he sat there staring into space? Practicing every move of his upcoming escape in his head?
“The guy will be after him,” Rex said as he turned. “I need to get there first.” He ran for the door, Cami behind him.
“I’ll text you when he gets up and goes after Cyrus,” she said. He heard the fear in her voice, but he also heard her steadiness.
Rex ran for the car, jumped in, and turned the ignition. Goddamn, he wished he had a firearm. But he’d had to leave his at home to board a plane, and even if he’d gone directly to a gun store, California had a ten-day waiting period.
He’d have to improvise if push came to shove.
The car’s tires spun on the gravel, and he went flying out of the driveway, holding the wheel with one hand while he input the address into the GPS with the other.
About a mile up the road, he spotted a small service station, the logo that had once been red now a faded orange on the side of the sun-bleached building. Walker’s. Rex shot by it. The man he’d just seen Cyrus attack had bought cards and candy from this location. The letter they’d only seen half of had been a W.