Clay's Ark Read Free

waiting."
    Rane clung to Blake as she had not for years.
    Eli gazed at her steadily, and she stared back but would not move. "Come on, kid," he said softly. "Do it the easy way."
    Blake wanted to tell her to go-before these people hurt her. Yet the last thing he wanted her to do was leave him. He
    was terrified that if they took her, he would never get her back. He stared at the two men. If he had had his gun, he
    would have shot them without a thought.
    "Use your head, Doc," Eli said. "Just slide over to the passenger side. I'll drive. You keep your eyes on Rane. It will
    make you feel better. Make you act better, too."
    Abruptly, Blake gave in, moved over, pushing Rane. He wanted to believe the gray-skinned black man. It would have
    been easier to believe him if Blake had had some idea what these people wanted. They were not just one of the local car
    gangs, obscenely called car families. No one had looked at the money in his wallet. In fact, as he thought about the
    wallet, Eli tossed it onto the dashboard as though he were finished with it. Were they after more money? Ransom?
    They did not sound as though they were. And they seemed strangely resigned, as though they did not like what they
    were doing-almost as though they were under the gun themselves.
    Blake hugged Rane. "Watch yourself," he said, trying to sound steadier than he felt. "Be more careful than you usually
    are -at least until we find out what's going on."
    Blake watched Ingraham follow Rane through the muddy downpour, watched her get into the red Mercedes. Ingraham
    said a few words to the woman, Meda, then exchanged places with her.
    When that was done, Eli relaxed. He thrust his gun into his jacket, walked around the Wagoneer as casually as an old
    friend, and got in. It never occurred to Blake to try anything. Part of himself had walked away with Rane. His stomach
    churned with anger, frustration, and worry.
    After a moment of spinning its wheels, the Mercedes leaped forward, shot all the way across the highway, and onto
    another dirt road. The Wagoneer followed easily. Eli patted its dashboard as though it were alive. "Sweet-running car,"
    he said. "Big. You don't find them this size any more. Too bad."
    "Too bad?"
    "Strongest-looking car we saw parked along the highway. We didn't want some piece of junk that would stall or get
    stuck on us. One tank full and the other nearly full of ethanol. Damn good. We make ethanol."
    "You mean it was my car you wanted?"
    "We wanted a decent car with two or three healthy, fairly young people in it." He glanced back at Keira. "You can't win
    'em all."
    "But why?"
    "Doc, what's the kid's name?" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Keira.
    Blake stared at him.
     
     
     
     
    "Tell her she can get up. She's been awake since Ingraham took your wallet."
    Blake turned sharply, found himself looking into Keira's large, frightened eyes. He tried to calm himself for her sake.
    "Do you feel all right?" he asked.
    She nodded, probably lying.
    "Sit up," he said. "Do you know what's happened?"
    Another nod. If Rane talked too much, Keira didn't talk enough. Even before her illness became apparent, she had been
    a timid girl, easily frightened, easily intimidated, apparently slow. Patience and observation revealed her intelligence,
    but most people wasted neither on her.
    She sat up slowly, staring at Eli. His coloring was as bad as her own. She could not have helped noticing that, but she
    said nothing.
    "You get an earful?" Eli asked her.
    She drew as far away from him as she could get and did not answer.
    "You know your sister's in that car up ahead with some friends of mine. You think about that."
    "She's no danger to you," Blake said angrily.
    "Have her give you whatever she's got in her left hand."
    Blake frowned, looked toward Keira's left hand. She was wearing a long, multicolored, cotton caftan-a full, flowing
    garment with long, voluminous sleeves. It was intended to conceal her painfully thin body. At the moment, it