Читать книгу Magnum Force Man - Amanda Stevens - Страница 5

He knew three things. His name was Jack Maddox. There was somewhere urgent he needed to be. And the woman had to be saved.

Beyond that, he only felt. The icy rain pricking his face. The heaviness of his fatigued muscles. The pervasive fear that chilled him to the bone. Not so much for himself, but for the woman.

Whoever she was. Wherever she was.

He had to find her before they did.

Whoever they were.

His sodden clothing was like a lead weight as he stumbled through the dripping forest. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going. He needed rest, food, sleep. It seemed as if he’d been running forever. Running from something and to someone.

But who? Who?

Keep going. Don’t stop until you get there. You’ll know it when you see it. You’ll know her.

The picture in his mind was that of a tall, slender brunette with wide, knowing eyes. But it was only a vague impression. Her features were indistinct because his mental photograph kept changing. The one thing that remained the same, however, was the aura of danger that surrounded her. If he didn’t find her in time, they would kill her. Whoever they were.

He slowed for a moment to catch his breath, and that was a mistake because exhaustion swooped down like a vulture, picking away at the last of his resolve. He could lie down right there in the freezing rain and fall asleep. Maybe sleep forever.

The temptation was a little too seductive so he forced himself to push on.

But in that brief respite, he’d allowed other images to seep into his numb brain. Dark, endless passageways. Metal bars blocking every exit. The sting of a thousand needles.

As the hazy memories bombarded him, he tripped and fell to one knee, then sprang up with a renewed sense of purpose. He would never go back there. Never.

Wherever there was.

He had no idea how long he’d been on the run, but judging by his fear and urgency, freedom was a new experience. So new that when a thunderbolt cracked overhead, he flinched and ducked, then braced himself for the red-hot sear of a bullet ripping through his flesh. Instead, he smelled burning wood and ozone where lightning had struck a nearby tree.

He kept moving.

On and on through the woods until up ahead, in a flash of lightning, he saw the glimmer of wet pavement. He’d found the road. He had no real recollection of it, but he recognized it just the same. He also knew that he’d never physically been there before.

Winding like a silver ribbon through the craggy hills, the glistening pavement beckoned. With an almost hypnotic obedience, he came out of the trees and stood gazing in first one direction, then the other.

Which way?

Over the pounding rain and roaring thunder, another sound penetrated. A car engine coming up on his left.

He turned his head to watch the road as he huddled inside his wet clothing. He was so cold. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been chilled. He could barely even imagine what it must be like to feel warm and safe. Had he ever experienced either of those things?

Had he ever experienced … anything?

He felt curiously empty. Blank, like a chalkboard that had been erased, leaving only faint traces of what had been there before. And even those blurred markings would soon disappear as new information was imprinted upon the surface.

Had his memory been erased? Had new information been imprinted over the images of his past? Was that why everything in his mind was so muddled?

What about the woman? Did she even exist outside his head?

She had to exist because at that moment she seemed to be his only reason for being.

The hum of the engine grew louder and now he could see a faint glow from the headlights, but the vehicle was still hidden by a sharp curve in the road.

He waited.

Some instinct told him he should step away from the shoulder, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He was glued to that very spot by destiny, fate or perhaps by something he didn’t yet understand. All he knew was that he could not have moved if his life depended on it.

Rain slashed across his face as the drum rolls of thunder drew nearer. Like a celestial portent, streamers of lightning exploded across the midnight blue sky, and the wind in the trees behind him began to howl. The night was wet, cold, electric. And yet something inside him had gone still and pensive, his senses on hyperalert, as if waiting for a silent command, an unheard voice assuring him that all would be well.

“Where are you?” he whispered to the wind.

No answer. No command. No warning. No anything. He was on his own.

The vehicle rounded the curve, and suddenly the cold and fear vanished, overridden by a keen sense of excitement and a certainty of what he now had to do.

As the headlights cut a swath through the blurry darkness, he walked into the middle of the road and turning, put up his hands to halt the oncoming vehicle.