I should be dead.
At least, that's what the government officials told me in the super-secret lab where I woke up strapped to a mattress in a windowless room...Sound problematic to anyone else?
Like I told the psychos experimenting on me, I've got...
Mac wound around trees and slid down rocky embankments like a steadfast bloodhound tracking its mark. I was teetering on the edge of queasy and trying to keep up with Mac (burping all the way like a sulfuric geyser.)
Anchored off the sandy west coast of the island was a small sailboat that Mac had stashed behind a crop of rocks poking out of the ocean. It was a dinky craft that we had to swim through freezing waters to get to. As soon as I crawled on board, I rolled over and barfed over the side, watching the last chunks of my dinner become fish food.
***
Mac sailed us deep into the Strait of Georgia and through choppy waters that throttled my hangover until I looked like wilted sea foam. There were at least eight menacing helicopters sweeping the island, lighting up the landscape light a big Hollywood movie premiere. I clung to the ropes and rail-guard of the boat like a useless buoy while Mac handled the technicalities of our escape.
There was a paltry stash of dry clothes on board, so I wriggled into a jumbo pair of sweatpants and a woolen flannel to ward off the frigid air. Mac didn't seem to notice the cold (or his layers of damp clothing) at all and put his entire focus into navigating the dicey waters threatening to toss us over.
We didn't set foot on land until we hit Vancouver, near the commercial ports on the coastline. Somewhere behind the swollen grey cloud-cover, the sun barely emerged as we jumped off the sailboat and broke into a fenced shipping yard.
Lonesome gull cries echoed among the rows of colorful steel containers stacked throughout the terraced enclosure. Not a soul seemed to be stirring except for us, which made the massive space feel eerily vacant. Immense cranes hovered overhead like skeletal towers, casting jagged shadows around every corner. Our feet crunched over the graveled yard so loud it made me cringe.
"Right here, this is our stack," Mac lifted an arm to point out the pile of blue shipping containers with the same symbol stamped along the sides.
I looked at him quizzically and yanked the giant arms of my shirt up over my elbows. We'd passed dozens of containers, all of them set in row upon row of colorful piles. I wasn't grasping the significance.
"Say what now?"
"This, right here," Mac slowed down his speech, "is our ride. These containers are headed to China."
"Wait, we're going?" I gawked. "Like, right now?"
Mac chuckled and shook his head. "Well, I don't have a home at the moment, and you won't shut up about finding that doctor, so yeah. I figured we'd do your thing."
"Yes!" I screamed under my breath, squatting like a duck and pumping my arms in and out.
Mac watched amusedly, cracking a smile when I started doing the running man in place and chanting 'oh yeah.'
"What is happening?" He asked.
"I'm dancing because we're doing my plan," I answered, evolving my steps into a prancy gravel-jig, which admittedly wasn't easy in the oversized clothes draped over my body.
"You look like you represent the lollipop guild," he commented dryly.
"Aw shucks grandpa," I cackled. "Was that a Wizard of Oz joke?"
"Watch your tone whippersnapper," Mac grinned wide. "I can still molly-whop you."
"Wait," I stopped dancing long enough to look up at the containers again. "How do you know these are going to China?"
We moved closer until I felt like an ant at the bottom of an insurmountable steel hill. The substantial rectangular vessels were stacked five high and smelled like briny magnets left to oxidize and collect bird poo.
"The logo," Mac answered as if I'd missed a big hint. I screwed up my face to study the proportioned spokes of an all-white sunburst growing out of (what looked like) a lotus flower. "Can you break the padlock?"
The front of the container had two bars holding the doors in place like a harness. I summoned the energy to wind through my veins once again, watching the particles rush and dance over my illuminated skin. The surge didn't feel as potent as before.
Placing my hands on the rusted padlock binding the bars together, I waited. The electricity flowed, warming me from the inside out and charging my skin to a lustrous cobalt hue. When the metal glowed cherry red, I yanked down on the lock to snap the molten neck in two.
"Won't they notice someone broke in?" I wondered out loud, stepping back to withdraw the energy before it could build further.
Mac heaved one of the lock rods up to free one of the door flaps. The metal shrieked and ground against the rusty lip of the ampule as he drug it open.
"Nah, these are sealed for transport," Mac shrugged as he drew a flashlight out of his backpack. "They won't notice until we're already on board, and well hidden."
How he knew so much about international shipping procedures was beyond me. Inside the corroded cave was a myriad of wooden crates marked in a language I couldn't read. The scent of fresh pine stymied the rotting seawater clinging to the metal frame. Mac grumbled his approval climbed into the giant box, gesturing for me to follow.
"How long does it take to get to China by boat?" I asked, straddling the doorframe.
"A little over two weeks," Mac hopped onto a crate to climb up into the yawning black space beyond. "Stop asking so many questions. This was your idiotic plan, so settle in half-hero."
I sighed and yanked the door flap closed, listening for the clunk of the lock rod slotting back into place. I was getting my way (and it didn't involve flying, so that was a bonus), but I had a feeling this voyage was going to be worse than meditation.
Ella's expression when she found out they were doing her plan:
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