Of course. He should have realized that was why they needed him—he had experience with tracking and knew these woods like the back of his hand. Or thought he had. Wyatt considered. “How long have they been gone? Are they wearing shackles or handcuffs that might slow them down? Do they have any weapons? Have any calls gone out to the local population for sightings?”
“Almost an hour. No. Not that we know of, but it’s possible they appropriated weapons during their escape. And absolutely not,” Axel said.
Wyatt thought about slimy tentacles. “Are they all humanoid like you?”
“No.”
“Okay. Any aliens with super-human speed or the ability to go through woods faster than the average human?”
“No.”
Wyatt pondered his options for only a few seconds. “Unshackled in this terrain for nearly an hour, assuming no one on the highway has picked up any odd hitchhikers, we’re looking at a five- to seven-mile radius from this location as a primary search area.
“The bulk of the search area is forested. That’s lucky, as it will slow them down, hopefully, but it also complicates things, as there are likely thirty or more cabins, homes, barns and various structures of all sizes, some abandoned, most not, within that same area.”
He pointed to Cam’s memory wipe device. “I suggest every search group carries one of those mind wipe things just in case any other civilians are involved.”
The familiar acerbic half smile shaped Cam’s lips. “Already set up. I like the way you think, Wyatt.”
“Well, you have a front-row seat on that score, don’t you?”
“True. But I’ll endeavor to stop.”
“We don’t have to shoot to kill, do we?” Wyatt asked, wondering if he’d have to shoot slimy aliens with tentacles, and what part of the creature he should aim for. Where were their hearts? Did they even have hearts?
“No, of course not. We aren’t barbarian aliens. We have rifles and guns with alien tranquilizer pellets. Sort of.”
“Sort of pellets? What do they do?”
Cam lifted the rifle off his shoulder by the strap. “It’s something new I invented for just this eventuality. The pellet is soft and when it hits the target it splatters the alien treatment, if you will, in a wide pattern. The drug must touch the skin to have any effect.”
“What does thistreatmentdo?”
“It calms the prisoner and makes them suggestible. They must do whatever is asked of them.”
“So you can calmly ask them to get back into their holding cell and they go willingly. Right?”
“Exactly. My initial design was in the form of a sticker. We had to get close enough to attach the sticker to the skin of our target, and that can be risky.”
The slim shred of a memory came into Wyatt’s head. “Is that what you used on the wild dog you chased through the countryside a while back?”
Cam nodded. “Took three stickers to get that beast calmed down enough.”
“Did I help you track it down back then?” Wyatt asked.
“Yes,” Diesel said. “You did help us.”
“But I can’t remember because—”
“Because we shot you with the Defender afterward.” Diesel gestured to the megaphone in Cam’s hand. “And I’m sorry, but we’ll have to erase your memories after this adventure as well.”
Wyatt eyed Valene.
“Haveyouever shot me with a…Defender?” he asked.
Valene shook her head.
“Something strange happened a few months ago, where I’m sure I lost time. You tried to explain, and distracted me, but it never truly made sense.”
