“Quick – let’s head out that way,” Trent said, pedaling backward to reverse the boat a little. “They’re heading over.”
“Yeah,” Zina said. “Do you think they’re gonna try to ram us?”
“Maybe,” Trent said – certainly, the guys didn’t seem to have any intention of slowing down, even as they came closer and closer, water splashing up around them as they furiously paddled.
If he hadn’t been so concerned for Zina’s safety, Trent might have laughed: they were two incredibly serious and no doubt highly trained secret agents, and trying with all their might to engage in a low-speed paddleboat pursuit down a relatively small river in Adelaide was probably not how they saw their careers going when they signed up for this gig.
But then, neither did I, really.
“Come on – we have to outpace them,” Trent said, paddling harder – and saw with concern that Zina was at last beginning to flag, unable to quite keep up with him. He’d have to slow his own pace, or they’d start turning in a circle.
That was fine, though – the men seemed to have decided ramming them wasn’t the way to go after all, or at least, not at this second. They were still approaching, but not quite at such a ferocious speed.
“Come on –” Trent began to say, before a sudden squawk from overhead made it clear why the two men in the boat had backed off in their attack.
Looking up, Trent found himself looking into the face of a large and apparently highly enraged seagull – though not the relatively benign seagulls he was used to, who were mainly cheeky little fellas who’d steal your hot chips out of your hand and maybe follow you around a bit looking for more. No, this one wasbig, with a cruelly hooked beak and evil, beady little eyes that seemed to stare directly into his soul, and it definitely was interested in more than just chips.
And even more than that, it’s a shifter,Trent realized as it swooped in low again, beak darting and pecking, a horrendous scream flying out of its throat.
That would explain why it looked so different from the seagulls he usually saw –andwhy it was being so aggressive, though he didn’t know, maybe this was just usual for American seagulls.
“Ugh!”
He looked away from the bird as it swooped away, still shrieking, to check on Zina. She was hunched over, protecting her bag with her body, her arms wrapped tightly around it, pulling it against her chest.
“Did it go for the bag?” Trent asked – the bird was big, but he didn’t think it would be able to carry it, especially not with the large, sturdy box Zina had shown him earlier inside it.
“No, I don’t think it’s trying to get it,” Zina said. “More like it’s trying to unbalance me or get it out of my grip for long enough that –”
They’re coming!
Trent’s head whipped around at his kangaroo’s warning to see that the two men in blue shirts had started their paddleboat charge again, and this time, it was clear they had no intention of backing down. Obviously, they were working in tandem with their seagull shifter friend, who was running interference for them.
The moment Zina lets go of that bag –
Trent shook his head. It didn’t do any good to think of things that way. They might be outnumbered, but this still wasn’t something that would definitely go smoothly for the other agents. They were hampered by being out in public. They couldn’t move as freely as they would have liked.
He would just have to do his best to try to use that to his advantage, as much as he could.
Zina ducked her head, hunching her shoulders as the bird swooped again, squawking and screaming like a banshee. Steeling himself, Trent swatted at it, his fist catching it across the chest and definitely giving it something to think about as it faltered in its flight path, crashing down into the water for a moment before flapping awkwardly back toward the bank and becoming entangled in the reeds and weeds, its wings and legs askew, squawking furiously as it struggled.
It would be back, though, Trent assumed – it was a shifter, not anactualgull, and that would hardly keep it out of action for long.
Maybe it didn’t matter, though – perhaps it had already achieved what it had set out to do, because in the next moment the paddleboat swayed dangerously in the water, the moment before he heard the ominousclunkof plastic hitting plastic, and Trent realized the two men in blue shirts had taken advantage of the distraction to ram into them, setting both boats rocking dangerously.
Well, let’s hope whatever Zina has in that bag is waterproof,Trent thought, gritting his teeth as he stood, planting his feet as far apart as the limited space on the paddleboat would allow, and trying not to think about how ridiculous this entire situation was.
“Give us the bag – and the girl,” one of the men in blue growled as he too rose, fists bunched by his side. He was shorter than Trent, but it was clear he was made of pure muscle, short and stocky, like a pit bull terrier. “You don’t wanna get involved in this, whoever you are. That’s the only warning I’ll give you.”
“Seems like I’m already involved,” Trent shot back. “Thanks for the warning, though.”
The man’s eyes reduced to slits as he moved them back and forth between Trent and Zina, while his friend kept the paddleboat beneath his feet steady. Given how strong the man looked, Trent didn’t think there was much chance of knocking him into the river – the man was basically a tank.
Behind him, he could sense Zina glancing around, keeping her eye out for other attackers, but right now, all he wanted her to focus on was protecting her bag and whatever was inside it.
“Trent,” she said quietly – and Trent immediately knew what she was talking about. Two more paddleboats were approaching, each containing two more men. If the pit bull-looking man hadn’t attacked him yet, it was because he was waiting for backup.
Clearly, whatever was in that bag was wortha lot.
