Into the Woods: Tales from the Hollows and Beyond(110)
Author: Kim Harrison

"Look out!" Jenks shouted, and Trent shied as a weird sort of swallowed sound schluuped through the rising and falling water six feet out.

Scowling, Trent looked up the line. They were shooting at him again, and concerned, he put a hand to the cord to feel it humming from more than the wind. They were coming, not afraid to shoot him dead now that he was on the ground.

"I think you’re okay," Jenks said, peering up as three more bullets cut through the water, the closest too far to be a worry. "The angle is wrong. But you got three minutes before they show up, rappelling down your rope." Jenks landed on an outcrop, his hair blowing wildly as he held his wings to his body. "I know you said there was a boat coming to pick us up, but how are you getting out to it? You elves got gills?"

"Something like that." Head down and fingers fumbling from the spray, Trent shimmied out of the harness, leaving only the one that kept Lucy snuggled close to him.

"Seriously!" Jenks said, hovering between him and the wall as he tried to keep out of the wind and away from Lucy’s frustrated reach. "You can swim, but what about her?"

"Boat," Trent said shortly, glancing up briefly to see that it still wasn’t here. It wasn’t a holiday, was it? It would be just like the Goddess to decree that his entire plan, haphazardly implemented and disastrously flawed, would end here at the end with his goal in sight but just out of reach, devolved by a slipped timetable or obscure holiday. A goat. I’ll give you a Goddessblessed goat. Just get me out of here alive.

"I don’t see no boat," Jenks said, and Trent finally got his tiny knife and lighter from his belt pack. He’d brought it to blow the gum, but it would also burn the rope, and Jenks whistled in appreciation as Trent cut the cord, exposed the flammable core, lit it, and it smoked and burned like a fuse, shaking slightly as it burned upward.

"Nobody is going to make it down here on your rope now!" Jenks said in appreciation. "You just bought yourself ten minutes, you little cookie maker!" Jenks landed on his shoulder, his wings cold on his neck. "Ah, your boat going to be here by then?"

"Yes." Two goats, he thought as he kicked the harness into the water. Crouching with Lucy before him, he inflated the little cockleshell boat using the compressed air that he’d brought to inflate a blown bike tire. In two seconds, one ounce of specially designed plastic became a small boat for one.

"That takes care of Lucy," Jenks said, peering upward again. The bullets had stopped, but they’d start back up the instant they moved from the lee of the cliff. Trent doubted they would shoot at the little boat, so obviously carrying Lucy, but they’d try for him, even if it meant she might dash against the rocks. Maybe he had promised to revisit the custody arrangements too soon. This was insane. He’d gotten her, gotten out of their stronghold. Enough was enough.

"Here you go, sweet pea," he found himself saying as he inexpertly wiggled Lucy out from her sling, the little girl’s eyes drooping. The stimulation of wind, water, and motion had begun to take their toll, and she frowned at the sudden cool breeze against her. "You can sleep in the boat," he whispered, tucking her blanket in around her and drawing the thin plastic top over her to protect her from spray.

He felt funny talking to her with Jenks listening, but the pixy only nodded at the care he took, seeming to be satisfied. Perhaps he’d done better than he ever dreamed, bringing Jenks along with him. The pixy was a seasoned parent, and if he deemed the precautions he took adequate, then perhaps he wasn’t doing badly.

"I still don’t see a boat," Jenks said as Trent carefully picked up the floating basket, wincing as the rocks cut into his feet.

Saying nothing, Trent waded out into the water. One bullet whizzed past him, then another, making Jenks swear and Trent’s eyebrows rise. The cold was breathtaking, and the bike suit soaked it up, holding it to him. Six steps put him to his chest, the waves jostling him until he gave up and pushed off, holding Lucy before him. He should have had the engineers fashion a way to tie her to him, he mused as he began to swim, the schluups of the bullets making his jaw clench. If not for the erratic bobbing of the waves, he’d likely be hit by now. It only made him angrier, and he kicked harder, falling into an awkward but effective rhythm. Shove the boat, stroke, stroke-shove the boat, stroke, stroke. Where is the bloody pickup boat!

"Boat?" Trent sputtered when they finally got far enough from the rocky edge so that he wasn’t fighting waves coming from both directions.

"Sure! Got it!" Jenks’s wings hummed, and Trent started when the smooth shape of the rocking cockleshell boat pulled away from him.

"No!" Trent said, his reaching hand smacking into it to make it rock violently. He panicked, thinking he had gotten Lucy wet, but she didn’t make a sound, apparently asleep. "I meant, do you see the pickup boat yet?" he asked as he began to tread water.

Jenks darted off, flying a good five feet above the water to make Trent wonder about sharks. If they had fish that would snack on Jenks, then there would be sharks, eating the fish, right? The cold was beginning to get to him, and he began swimming to generate heat, pushing forward going nowhere. He’d once pulled Rachel out of the frozen Ohio River. She’d been suffering from hypothermia after only a few minutes. He hadn’t had an issue with the cold, but he’d been in the water here for at least twice that. The bullets had stopped, and he was thankful. But maybe that only meant they had their own boat out here and didn’t want to hit it.

Doubts tugged at him, and his thoughts began to slow. He’d been awake almost three days in a row getting out here, and he’d asked his body to perform far beyond what he had prepared for. Jenks was gone, maybe eaten. He’d brought his daughter out of her safe home and for what? To die a cold and frightening death in the middle of the ocean?

The sound of Jenks’s wings brought his head up, and he leaned his body into treading water, the cold seeping into him. He peered up at him, squinting into the sun as the pixy landed on the edge of the cockleshell boat. "No boat," Jenks said, making Trent’s heart sink. He’d been a fool. A fool to believe he could do this. The Goddess was laughing at him. He should have promised her more, but doing this without killing anyone had been his greatest sacrifice. Perhaps he should have tried harder not to kill the man with the knife. It had been instinct. Instinct had caused his downfall. He was not enough. He should turn around and take her back to them. He would die, but Lucy would live. Rachel would be furious with him. She was expecting his help, and a feeling of guilt swept through him. Just one more broken promise. He was no better than his father.