A/N: Well, it's been a long time since I've even thought about this story. I hate neglecting a good story. Here's a brief update just to get me back into it. Yes, I know it's not that long of a chapter after such a long time to update, but what can you do? I'll make sure I'll keep on it. I hope you enjoy, whoever you are.
Chapter Four: On the Run
Dreams jolted Terra from the peace of sleep. Nightmares of a cold room and a dangerous man that wracked her body with fear. Deep down, she'd hoped that they were simply dreams. Something whispered in her mind that they were, in actuality, memories clawing for resurfacing. Things that she wanted to stay buried out of fear for her well being. At least, that's what she thought.
The floor beneath her rattled and bumped, causing her to sit up straight with fear. Now that she was focusing on her surroundings, she realized t hey weren't familiar. Her heart pounded while she frantically began to rise from the lumpy ground.
"Don't worry. You're safe." a disembodied voice told her.
She looked to the back and to the side. Locke watched her with raised brows as though waiting for her response. When her nerves quieted enough, she managed to deliver.
"Where are we?" she asked.
There were boxes around them, bumping as the floor jumped beneath her. The entire place wreaked of something she couldn't place. She took in a deep breath then let it out with a mildly disgusted face.
"That smell is fish." Locke said with humor in his voice, "We are in a fish truck. Newman's Can-O-Fish."
She rubbed her eyes as she looked around more. That smell simply left things to be desired, but she figured beggers really couldn't be choosy. This truck helped them escape, so it couldn't be too bad.
"How long was I asleep?" she questioned, noting the lasting tiredness in her own voice.
He made a gesture that seemed like he was calculating. A thoughtful sway of his head, side to side.
"Maybe twelve hours, thirteen. You fell asleep in Vancouver where we hitched a ride with someone willing to help."
Her eyebrows knit together. She was surprised anyone was willing to help her. Something told her that she was the enemy. Or at least, she had been.
"Really?"
"Find that hard to believe, eh? Well, it's true. Some people are nice...at least where I'm from." he sighed, stretching out with his arms behind his head, "We should be almost in Oregon by now. We haven't stopped since we left Canada, I think."
Locke shut his eyes with a small smile playing at his thin lips. He seemed pleased with himself and his plan. Still, Terra had to wonder why he decided to help.
"Why are you helping me?" her voice was low–barely enough to hear over the sound of the engine.
His eyes fluttered open. Her breath caught as he turned those blue orbs on her. It was odd how they could seem so airy and carefree, yet full of something deeper and troubled. He looked haunted as he stared at her, which made Terra uneasy. She couldn't keep his gaze, so she turned away to keep from looking at him.
"Hey, a man should offer his assistance to a woman. It's a code, after all."
She gave him a brief, confused glance. Code? What was he talking about exactly? Did she even want to know?
"Why don't you just relax, kiddo. We'll get out at the next truck stop, then find our way to our to Nevada where we'll get some more help."
She nodded slowly, then curled up in a ball in attempts to loosen her surprisingly tense muscles. All these people offering assistance. It was kind...but why? It made little sense to her. Hopefully, someone would truly be able to explain it to her.
Kefka paced the police station with agitation painted on his face. His teeth clenched angrily, unable to cope with the waiting. The longer these incompetent canucks took, the further his weapon got away. Hell, she could be anywhere by now. Who the hell was helping her escape him! She was HIS.
...And President Ghestal, of course. Couldn't forget about the Commander and Chief.
The officer stepped out of the interrogation room, holding a donut in one hand. His shirt was already laced with crumbs from some other pastry. Incompetence. If he had his way, stupid places like this would be wiped from the maps. Some people didn't deserve their lives.
"Well?" he asked, frustration heavy in his voice
"He says he hasn't seen anyone by the descriptions you gave me, Mr. Kefka. I dunno what to tell you, but there's other cities near the Canadian/American border. That tipoff must have been a fake." he shrugged.
Kefka, in rage, grabbed the man by his collar. Faces inches apart, Kefka's eyes burned into the officer. He knew he had him too tight. He heard his breath straining in 'Officer Canuck's' fat throat. What a beautiful sound.
Canadian officers and his own military men grabbed hold of Kefka's shoulders. After a mild struggle, Kefka finally let the man go. Despite open arms waiting to catch the man, he tumbled to the ground. He glared at Kefka who smirked at the fallen policeman.
"Wonderful. You've been so much help." Kefka hissed darkly
The officer stood, finally wiping off the crumbs on his uniform.
"No problem." he murmured
Kefka turned to his troops, nose slightly in the air.
"Boys, I believe Canada has given what little it had to offer. It's time to head home."
The troops saluted. Their man-in-charge offered the Secretary of Defense a nod, before the group headed out of the station. As they swarmed out of the room, Kefka turned back to the Canadian long arm of the law.
"Thanks a lot fellas. It's no surprise that your country is as...safe...as it is now."
The way he said that made the men in the room shudder. With a dark, monovalent grin, Kefka nodded to them. Turning on the heel of his snake-skin shoes, he joined the others who came with him.
"Sir," the lieutenant commander in charge approached, "Your jet is being readied. Take off should be in little over an hour to Nevada."
Kefka rubbed his hands together with a smile. He had a meeting with a powerful business owner that needed a little setting straight. He so did love meetings like that.
"Excellent, very good." he laughed as the rest of his Americans left the building.