The Chemist

“Yes.”


“Well, that’s something, at least.”

“But not everything,” Daniel guessed.

“No. Childress is a very small town.”

“Just over six thousand people,” Arnie rumbled.

It was worse than she’d thought; she knew of high schools with bigger student bodies.

“So a stranger in town is memorable,” she said. “You would have been noticed.”

Daniel turned to her. His face was composed, but his eyes were troubled.

“Yes, I can see that,” he agreed.

“You were in Arnie’s truck, with Arnie’s dog,” Alex said. “Someone could connect you back to Arnie.”

“Einstein stayed in the truck,” Daniel said. “I don’t think anyone was watching me get in or out.”

“There’re a hundred similar trucks in town. Five that are the exact same color, year, and model; two of those have campers,” Arnie said, not to Daniel, but to Alex. “Half the people there would have a dog with them.”

“That’s helpful,” she told Arnie. “You guys did good here.”

“How much does this affect you?” Daniel asked him.

Arnie shrugged. “No way to know. People forget stuff pretty quick when they’ve got no real reason to remember. We lie low, it’ll probably come to nothing.”

“Anyway, what’s done is done,” Alex mused. “We’ll just have to be extra careful.”

“Kevin’s going to be furious.” Daniel sighed.

“When isn’t he furious?” Alex asked, and Arnie actually laughed out one brief chuckle. “Anyway, it’s his own fault for not explaining anything to you. A mistake I’m not going to repeat.” She gestured toward the couch.

Arnie nodded to himself, then clumped out the front door, back to his work. Kevin had picked a good partner. She found herself wishing that Arnie were Daniel’s brother rather than Kevin. Arnie was so much easier to deal with.

“How about I make lunch while you lecture?” Daniel offered. “I’m suffering extreme hunger pangs. I don’t know what Arnie survives on around here.”

“Sure,” she said. She grabbed a bar stool and planted herself.

“I did honestly think that I was helping,” Daniel murmured as he went back to the fridge.

“I know, Daniel, I know. And I’m hungry, too,” she conceded.

“I’ll ask first next time,” he promised.

She sighed. “That’s a start.”

? ? ?


THOUGH SHE DIDN’T want to admit it, the large sandwich Daniel made for her did a lot to mellow her perspective on the incident. She gave him the basics while they ate—there’d be time for more detail when they had a specific task ahead of them—and he listened attentively.

“I don’t know how to see the world that way,” he confessed. “It all seems so paranoid.”

“Yes! Paranoia is exactly what we’re shooting for. Paranoia is good.”

“That’s a little contradictory to how they teach it in the real world, but I’ll work on flipping my perspective. I know I can do this much—I will check with you on everything from now on. Before I breathe.”

“You’ll start to get it. It becomes habit after a while. But don’t think of what you used to know as the real world. The things that happen in this world are a whole lot more real, and a whole lot more permanent. It’s primitive—survival instincts. I know you have them; you were born with them. You just have to tap into that part of yourself.”

“I have to think like the hunted.” He tried to keep his face positive, but she could see how much the idea devastated him.

“Yes. You are the hunted. And so am I. And so is your brother. And hell, so is Arnie, apparently. It’s a very popular state of being around here.”

“But you,” he said slowly, “and my brother, and probably even Arnie, are still predators. I’m just prey.”

She shook her head. “I started out as prey. I learned. You’ve got advantages I never had. You share an exact genetic code with your brother, the apex predator. I saw you down at the range—once those instincts kick in, you’ll be plenty able to take care of yourself.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I’m saying that because I’m jealous. If I could be tall, and strong, and a natural shot, it would change this game I’m playing.”

“If I could be smart and paranoid, I wouldn’t have put us at risk.”

She smiled. “There’s no comparison. You have the ability to learn; I’ll never be able to grow any taller.”

He grinned back. “But you’re so much stealthier the way you are.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “Let’s go do something productive and shoot up some hay bales.”

“Okay, but I have to be back by”—he glanced at the clock on the range—“six o’clock at the latest.”

Alex was confused. “Is your favorite TV show on or something?”

“No. I owe you dinner, and it’s not like I can take you out on the town.” He smiled apologetically. “That’s one of the reasons, beyond starvation, I went shopping.”

“Um…”