Chapter 23, The CAMFer Spy

                                    

                                          


                          
Nose and Yale were already on alert and flanking the doorway, Mike Palmer's gun gripped firmly in Nose's hand.

                          
"We heard something," Marcus told them as we slipped back inside.
                          
"Us too," Yale whispered. "Something moving through the brush."
                          
"Could be an animal," Nose said, keeping his voice low, "but it sounded bigger."
                          
The loud snap of a branch broke the silence of the night, followed by the rustle of bushes. It didn't sound like an animal. It sounded like someone walking through the woods toward us.
                          
"Stay here with the gun," Marcus ordered. "I'll try to flank them, and if they get too close, I'll draw them off." 
                          
He was gone, out the door and into the dark, before I could protest.
                          
I glanced from Nose to Yale, feeling panic rise in my throat.
                          
"He'll be fine," Nose said, "He's hard to kill."
                          
Hard or impossible? I wanted to ask, but the sounds outside were getting closer. For a second, off to the left, I thought I saw the beam of a flashlight cut through the blackness.
                          
A minute later, from that same direction, there was a loud crashing of brush followed by a yell cut short, followed by more crashing of brush. And then silence.
                          
I stood with Nose and Yale, peering out into the dark woods.
                          
A figure, lumpy and misshapen, stumbled into the clearing. 
                          
"I got him," Marcus called, emerging from the bushes as well, his hand locked on the arm of what looked like a headless torso dressed in black. 
                          
It took me a moment to realize that Marcus had thrown his jacket over his captive's head and cinched it shut.
                          
Marcus shoved the CAMFer forward and the spy struggled a little, muffled protests coming from inside the jacket. He was a pretty small guy, much shorter than Marcus. He hardly looked threatening. 
                          
"That's it?" Nose asked. "That's all they sent?"
                          
"Looks like it," Marcus said. "Let's get him inside and get some answers."
                          
I slipped off my glove to provide some light as Marcus propelled the CAMFer forward, guiding him over the threshold. Marcus pushed him down to a sitting position, and we all stood over him, Nose with the gun ready in his hand. 
                          
"You're sure no one else is out there?" Yale asked Marcus. "I doubt he came alone."
                          
"I didn't see anything but this idiot crashing through the brush like a drunken cow with a flashlight." 
                          
That comment elicited a muffled protest from under Marcus's jacket. Apparently, this CAMFer didn't appreciate being compared to inebriated bovine. 
                          
"Anyway, let's have a look," Marcus said, reaching down and yanking his jacket off the CAMFer with a flourish.
                          
And there sat Emma blinking up at us, the static electricity from the jacket making her red hair float away from her head like some kind of angelic Medusa.   
                          
"Emma!" I exclaimed, throwing myself down in front of her. 
                          
"Thank God I found you!" she said, hugging me, nearly squeezing the breath out of me. 
                          
"Are you okay?" I pulled back, looking her over.
                          
"I've been better," Emma said, rubbing her arm. "One of these guys has a nasty tackle." She looked disapprovingly from Yale to Marcus to Nose, her glance lingering on his ski mask and falling to the gun in his hand, her eyes widening. "What is going on?" she asked, her voice halfway between fear and concern.