The Collective

Chapter Six

"Goood morrnning, Annie!" Max threw a bundle of clothing at my head.

"Max!" I snapped, scrambling out from under the clothes.

He flipped on the lights. "We're wasting daylight." He turned around, slamming the door closed behind him.

I groaned. There was no daylight. I pulled on the clothes. There was a thick black shirt and green cargo pants. The pockets had a myriad of bandages and medicines and something that looked suspiciously like a grenade. I shoved it back into the pocket. I plucked the knife off the belt loop and stashed it in my back pocket.

Max waited for me in a generic black car. He eased onto the main road. He tapped the glove box. "There's gloves and perfume. Put them on. And put your hair up." He handed me a hair tie, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

I pulled my hair back. "Don't you know these people?"

He shrugged. He merged onto the freeway, driving at exactly the speed limit. He was polite and not crazy. He was making me nervous. He always drove like a maniac.

Half an hour later, he pulled up to a clean, metal building. He pulled a gun out of the middle console. "Stay close."

Glass crunched under our feet as they walked through the open door. Computers flashed, desks empty. The whole place was completely silent. Max motioned for me to stay put. He moved through the office, ducking through an open doorway.

I stood, heart racing at every new sound. A coffee pot in the corner tried to turn on, but the very last of the water splashed out and it started flashing red, blaring discontentedly. It exploded.

I stumbled back, tripping over my own feet. I saw Max, gun held on the coffee maker.

He stowed his weapon. "You okay?"

I nodded.

"The place is empty. Come here." He pointed to a big desk in the middle of the room. "See if you can find anything in the drawers. There's an extra key in the keyboard."

I took the key out. I opened all the drawers. They were extremely well-organized. I shifted through the piles of folders in the very last drawer. They were all just numbers. I sat on the chair. A picture of a Rottweiler caught my attention. I froze. That was Matilda, Ethan's dog. All dressed up for Christmas. She had on a red and green hat and a green collar with bells on it. I'd taken this picture.

"Alex, come on! You can't still be mad at me."

I didn't answer. I was busy ignoring him. I rubbed Matilda's head on my way in. We'd picked her up from my parents for 4th of July weekend. She waited for Ethan to come in and shut the door. He pat her head before coming to a halt across from me. The island sat between us.

Ethan rubbed Maddie's ears. "I'm sorry I made you rush out of there." We'd been out getting coffee.

My lips curled into a smile. "That's not why I'm mad."

"Then what?" He demanded.

This conversation felt all too familiar and majorly overworked. I shook my head slowly, "It matters to me that you won't tell me why."

He stiffened. His gaze narrowed. "Alex, I told you, I'm a software designer. I make a lot of money. People get mad. That's why I'm leaving in a couple months!"

"Bullshit!" I froze, regretted it as soon as I said it.

He sank onto the barstool, didn't say anything.

I plowed ahead. "I know you say it doesn't matter where you came from, just where you're going, but it matters to me. I don't care if it's not pretty."