Page 62 of Look for Me

“You never lost me. Go. I’ll see you later.” Corinne started sprinting, Tanaka at her heels.

Martin’s heart warmed. He heard her words over and over in his mind.

You never lost me.

“What did she mean by that?” Flavian asked.

Martin couldn’t reply. He wanted to cry. Flavian wasn’t heavy, but his own heart was.

What if those were Corinne’s last words to him?

He had to get Flavian out of the building and then he decided he’d return to help Corinne and Tanaka.

Then again, what could he do? It was apparent that Corinne knew how to use a weapon.

And that she was buddies with Tanaka.

Was Corinne an FBI informant?

Was that why she ended up in WITSEC?

The door opened to heavy rain. Martin’s steps were slowed down by the part-sandy and part-muddy ground. He nearly slipped once or twice, with Flavian hanging on to his neck with his one good arm.

A sudden force pushed Flavian against Martin’s head, throwing him off balance. He slipped and fell face first into the ground. Flavian slid off his back. They both groaned in agony.

In the thunder and lightning, Martin heard gunshots. And more groaning from Flavian.

“They’re coming!” Martin got on his knees, but he had lost a shoe. He tried to reach for Flavian.

Flavian was not moving on the ground.

“Flavian?” Martin crawled toward the man.

Like thunder, a host of boots pounded around them, heading toward the house. Martin looked up but saw nothing until a flash of lightning gave him light.

Large words were emblazoned on the back of the vests of the crowd of armed people.

FBI.

Martin was so relieved he rolled back, flat on the muddy ground. He closed his eyes and let the heavy rain pelt his face.

He didn’t stay long before someone knelt down beside him. “Can you walk?”

Martin nodded. Tried to get up. From the corner of his eye, he saw two FBI agents carry Flavian. He followed them. It was a long walk through a grove of trees that smelled like oranges, but they made it to a dock.

Two boats awaited them. From the markings, Martin guessed that one was a Coast Guard boat, and the other looked like a Marine Patrol boat from the Miami Beach Police Department.

All that told Martin they were off the coast of Florida somewhere, but not quite on international waters if the local police had jurisdiction.

Where are we, really?

The thunderstorm had passed, leaving what felt like a tropical shower.

A helicopter landed on the flat grassy plain next to the dock. Paramedics poured out and started treating Flavian. He was still not moving.

Martin’s thought that Flavian wasn’t that seriously injured when he carried him went out the door when he heard what the FBI agents said to the paramedics.

Gunshot wounds.

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