Page 24 of Factory Thief

“I don’t know. Somebody up there likes us.”

I snort. “I don’t think so. Those men were trying to kill me.”

“I meant someone higher up,” she jokes.

I nod to let her know I was kidding. Bad idea.

She turns serious again.

“Why?” Victoria asks. “And who would want to kill you?”

“I’d say ‘who’ answers ‘why.’ If those gunmen worked for the Factory—”

“They didn’t, I can assure you.”

“So, you say. For the sake of argument, let’s pretend the Factory isn’t the altruistic organization you make them out to be, just for an intellectual exercise.”

“All right, fine,” she says stiffly, her eyes darkening. “What possible motivation would they have for trying to run you off the road when I’m going to turn you over to them anyway?”

“Well, that’s…” I close my mouth. “Admittedly, I can’t think of why it would be them, but I’m not ruling them out either. It definitely wasn’t the police, or they’d have set up a roadblock, called for backup, and identified themselves.”

“Agreed. Those men were not the police.”

“That just leaves, in my opinion, the Xtera Pharmaceuticals Corporation. They don’t want what I know getting out to the general public.”

I look fearfully up at the cliffside, a sudden chill seizing my body.

“Do you think they saw us escape the car after it went under?”

“First of all, you didn’t escape. I escaped, dragging your drowned ass behind me. As to your second point, I don’t think so. We were moving fast when we flew over the side. The road is out of sight from here.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about them climbing down here after us,” I say, craning my neck to look up. A craggy but sheer cliff face presents a daunting challenge for an experienced climber with gear. I’m not an expert climber, even if Uber Ninja Woman is. “On the downside, we can’t get back up.”

“It would be a hell of a climb freehanded,” Victoria says with a nod. “All right. Let’s see if this beach leads us to a path back to the highway.”

She peers out at the ominous gray clouds looming on the horizon. “I don’t like the looks of that.”

“Me neither. Plus, it’ll be high tide soon. This beach will be half-submerged, jagged rocks. I don’t look forward to navigating that. Let’s move while we can.”

We pick our way across the crescent nimbus of beachhead. Crabs scuttle from under our steps, fleeing certain destruction. I’m happy my shoes were too tight to float away while we were in the water, especially when we step past a beached jellyfish lying in a niche of rock carved out by the tide. The creature’s stone cradle makes it almost appear as a glistening pool of water.

The rocky, coarse sand beach stretches for some distance. I wager we walk for about a mile and a half, occasionally startled by the crackle of lighting. A stiff wind whips up and blows across the tops of the rising waves, sending white froth streaming our way in a nearly continuous spray.

We come around a bend in the undulating cliffside. With no path back up in sight, a rogue swell breaks over our diminishing beachhead. We only have time to gasp before it smashes into us. I groan as I hit the jagged cliff face. I try to shield Victoria with my body.

“Are you all right?” I ask, water dripping from my drenched body.

“I think so,” she gasps. “Come on. That won’t be the last big boy. We’re running out of time.”

Finally around the bend, the beach widens, stretching into a moderate slope terminating in the mouth of a large cave. Victoria and I scramble up the beach, relaxing when we make it past the high tide line.

“Watch out,” I say, moving around a broken beer bottle. “Looks like people have been using this cave as a hangout.”

“How would they even get here?”

“By boat, I assume. With any luck we’ll find some supplies inside, maybe some bottled water.”

There turns out to be more than just water. Someone spends time here. Often enough that they feel safe leaving stuff behind. A six pack of canned beer, one zip-lock bag of beef jerky, and a half-empty fifth of whiskey. At this point it looks like a perfect dinner.

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