The Guard Read Online Free Page B

to make a run for it. . . .
    But these are humans. They’re probably just doing their jobs. What are the chances I could make it out of here without accidentally killing one of them?
    Part of me says I shouldn’t care—that me escaping would be for the sake of the remaining Loric. But that sounds an awful lot like something the Elders wouldsay. And I am not an Elder.
    I’m reminded for the second time in the last twenty-four hours why I like to work behind the scenes.
    “I said, hands in the air where I can see ’em!” the same voice shouts.
    I turn slowly, raising my hands. The officers look startled at first, but I’m not sure what aspect of my appearance they’re surprised by. Maybe the fact that I’m not a man. I’ve come to learn that just like on Lorien, the people of Earth aren’t used to a woman being so tall. After the flash of surprise, though, there’s a wave of relief that rushes over them. The one with the big hat on—the one who I assume is in charge—gets in close, putting his flashlight up to my face. He looks at my recently shaved head, then into my eyes for a few moments.
    “What are you doing out here?” he asks.
    “Sightseeing,” I reply.
    He lets out a grunt, but I can see his posture soften. The others lower their guns a little.
    “This is government property,” he says. “Trespassing isn’t taken lightly.”
    “I’m on this side of the fence,” I say.
    He grins. “Which puts you under my jurisdiction. Now, I know just about everybody in Rio Arriba County, and I’ve definitely never seen you before, which means we need to get acquainted. Why don’t you start bytelling me why you’re sneaking around in the dark with those hunting goggles?”
    He motions to one of his men. The officer moves behind me and is patting me down before I can object. He pulls the blaster out of my coat pocket.
    “What the . . . ,” he whispers, wrapping his fingers around its hilt.
    He’s obviously never held a blaster before and doesn’t realize what a sensitive trigger it has, because the weapon fires with an electronic sound and melts a hole in my front driver’s-side tire. The SUV leans as the tire deflates.
    “Dammit,” I mutter.
    Suddenly everyone’s guns are on me again, and the man in the big hat’s got my hands behind my back. I think about resisting, but there’s no way I can outrun them now. One of the men starts asking me questions about some deputy I’ve never heard of, but the leader shuts him up.
    “No one talks to her until we’re back at the station. This is my interrogation.”
    “Do you want us to keep patrolling the perimeter?” one of the officers asks.
    “Lights off.” The man in the hat nods. “Stay quiet. I don’t want anyone seeing you—on either side of the fence.” He turns to me. “You have the right to remain silent. . . .”
    My mind races as I try to remember everything I’ve learned in passing about the American justice system, any tidbit of knowledge that might be helpful.
    “What crime am I being charged with?” I ask as he pushes me towards a car I can barely see in the darkness. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
    “Possession of an illegal firearm,” the man says. “And suspected murder of a police officer.”
    I piece together what I can from the back of the squad car based on the conversation between the man in the hat—the county sheriff—and one of his deputies. Apparently two officers went investigating reports of bizarre lights near the base, which I gather isn’t that strange a call for this area. But something went bad. Only one officer returned, his body shot full of cauterized holes from some sort of unidentified weapon. Before he slipped into a coma, he said something about men with tattoos on their heads and black eyes.
    No wonder they reacted so strongly to the blaster firing.
    Panic starts to settle in my chest once the shock of being arrested wears off. I have no identification. I’m not even human. And I’m