Chapter 10
“If you’re tempted to shoot me, my crew expects us back in a few days. They’ll find and kill you no matter where you run off to,” Lowell says, placing Grandma’s crossbow into my eagerly waiting palms.
I peek into the bag of bolts. “You’re letting me keep the Lizardfolk-piercing bolts?” I ask, shocked.
Lowell peers at me from the corner of his eye, terminating the explosive’s wiring to a single detonator.
“Out here, we’re allies. If I die, you not only have no way home, but you’d have to face whatever creature or person had the strength to kill me.
If you die…” He stands, waving his hands flippantly. “I suppose I’d be inconvenienced.”
I slip the crossbow sling over my shoulder, the comforting scent of well-worn leather tickling my nose. “You’re such an asshole,” I grumble.
Lowell grins, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. Gazing over the pass, he traces the wires back to their source, double-checking the configuration with scrutiny.
We spent most of the morning securing the Gaia 4 explosives to stress points, climbing up rickety metal construction and scaffolding that covers the pass’s entrance.
Lowell could only pack a small amount of explosives onto the sandcycle, leaving us with none to spare.
We’ll have to abandon our plan if the pass doesn’t crumble, and I’m unsure if I’ll survive the trip back or not.
Lowell hovers a hand over the detonator button. “Are you excited for your first act of eco-terrorism? Or is your little conformist heart in shambles,” he snickers.
Little does he know, I haven’t given myself a moment of peace to process the current events. If I did, my brain might catch up to the reality that if I were caught or found out, I could never work in Nilsan again.
Under duress or not, Kinsley will make sure I pay for my transgression — if anything, just for the sake of it. He enjoys making a spectacle of my failures. Everything I’ve worked for would vanish in an instant. All because of this arrogant lizard.
I shrug, keeping my expression stoic. “I don’t feel anything. I want to get this over with.”
Lowell groans in annoyance. “I was hoping for a tearful plea or something. This is a big moment for you.” He gestures toward the pass with grandeur, as is if presenting something of exceptional value. “Your first capital offense: destruction of government property.”
I don’t entertain his gibe, lifting a single brow. “Can we go, already?”
A glimmer in Lowell’s eyes reveals that he wants to keep agitating me, but I’m thankful when he signals for me to put on my hearing protection instead.
I obey the instruction, the sounds from the whipping wind and Lowell’s incessant taunting turning to silence once the soft cover slips over my ears.
Using his fingers, Lowell counts down from three, then two, then one.
Before he can reach zero, he pauses. His gaze remains fixed on the ground as he sets the detonator by his feet. Shuffling across the sand, he holds out his arms with fingers flexed.
I remove one end of my hearing protection and shout, “What the hell are you doing?”
Lowell ignores me, continuing to saunter towards the pass. Once he’s halfway across, his claws dig into the sand, pulling up a wiggling animal amidst the swirling grains. Holding it up triumphantly, he jogs towards me with childlike excitement.
“Look! A Sandpit!” Lowell’s eyes light up with wonder, the corners of his mouth raised into a bright smile. “They were hiding around here after all,” he finishes, allowing the snake to lazily trail up his arm. The Sandpit’s tongue shoots out from its mouth, licking the inside of his forearm.
“Sandpits are known to be aggressive, but that must only apply to humans,” I observe, intrigued. I can’t help but grin, the snake exceptionally cute when not coiled and striking like I’m used to seeing.
Lowell nods, stroking the diamond pattern on the back of its head with the pad of his pointer finger. “Yup. Most reptiles are docile around Lizardfolk.” He shoots me a smug look. “Jealous?”
I blush, frowning with a sparkle of laughter in my voice. “Very. I’ve only ever been bitten.”
“Reptiles can’t seem to keep their mouths off you, huh?” he retorts, innuendo heavy in his tone as a single brow lifts.
My blush deepens, and I can’t help but giggle while rolling my eyes. “Don’t be gross,” I say, trying to suppress the fluttering in my chest in a futile effort.
The Sandpit shakes its tail with a loud rattle as Lowell gently guides it back toward his palm instead of up the sleeve of his jacket, where it seems to be adamant to reach. “I’ll go put them somewhere safe. Hang tight.”
Warmth softens my heart at how gently Lowell speaks while holding the snake. His face turns giddy and his eyes fill with amazement each time the Sandpit nudges his jacket or kisses his bicep.
He really loves these animals, doesn’t he?
Lowell strides past me to place the snake carefully into the sand. It darts off in the opposite direction, and for a moment, I see a dusting of ease in Lowell’s otherwise-stiff posture. His hands are clasped together in admiration, tail swaying against the ground.
It would be a sweet sight in any other scenario.
Clapping his hands together to remove remnants of sand, he returns to where the detonator was dropped. Picking it up, he points to my ears without a word.
I oblige, the spell of the previous moment breaking as seriousness fills its place — the gravity of what we are about to do, about what I’m now a part of. Choking down my fear, I scrunch my face reflexively, bracing for impact.
Lowell counts down with his fingers again.
My body tenses when he reaches one.
He presses the button.
The rocks and metal structures that once held together the Orageist Pass blow apart in a spectacular display of dust and debris. Despite the ear-covers, the initial sound makes me wince. A ring of aftershock sends me stumbling backward, sand pelting my face.
Pebbles fall from the sky for a full minute afterward, both of us standing in awe. A lightness fills my chest, a tingling buzz dancing down my spine to the base of my tailbone. The feeling is not unfamiliar, but I can’t pin it down.
Despite everything… I feel good.
I pull off my hearing protection once the demolition appears to have slowed, hopping on the back seat of the sandcycle. As electrified as I feel right now, gawking will only eat up the few hours of daylight we have left. I don’t think I can take another night alone with Lowell. For many reasons.
Ignoring my haste, Lowell remains completely still. He watches the dust as it settles beneath the pass.
“I think we got it all,” I say, trying to draw Lowell’s attention from the swirling fog of dirt.
His head snaps to a column at the right of the pass, his brow furrowing in concentration.
“What are—” I begin, but Lowell holds up his hand to halt me.
“Shut up.” His words are soft-yet-alarming. “I hear voices.”
I reposition my crossbow from the sling, loading a standard bolt.
Lowell’s scales twitch as he locks onto sound, eyes scanning the clearing pass. From where I sit, I hear nothing other than the sound of rubble crunching beneath his feet.
“Are you sure you heard something? Lizardfolk aren’t exactly known for their hearing,” I whisper-yell, peering through my scope. The metal scaffolding appears vacant, the rusted structure a strong gust away from complete collapse.
A loud bang rings out from the top of the pass. Lowell grunts, dipping backward in recoil.
Craning his neck to look at me, he bares his teeth in a growl.
“Get down!” he yells, widening his stance to cover more space.
I do as I’m told, sliding off the sandcycle and sinking to the ground.
Propping my crossbow on the seat, I sweep my scope over anything that moves.
With my heart thundering in my chest, I clumsily turn the lens of my sights to focus.
I spot two figures in the reticle near the top, frantically loading weapons that I can’t make out.
“Two on your right,” I call, my voice wavering. It’s been ages since I’ve seen combat, and even then, it was only for military training. My bow is used mainly for utility and sport, and rarely ever to take a life. I’d be more nervous about my skills if I weren’t so consumed with fear.
When another loud bang echoes through the canyon, I finally realize what the sound is.
A gunshot.
The bang echoes again.
Another.
Then another.
Bullets pelt Lowell’s chest, his body shaking back and forth upon each impact. I’m frozen in terror watching the onslaught, the bullets that miss kicking up sand and obscuring sight.
When the firing ceases for a beat, pieces of metal are littered about the ground, the bullets nearly intact. Not a single one penetrates Lowell’s thick scales.
Lowell bellows a hardy laugh. “Bet they’ve never encountered a Lizardfolk, huh?” he taunts, wiping the gunpowder from his chest.
I exhale a sigh of relief — not only that he wasn’t hurt, but that they didn’t aim at me. I wouldn’t have been able to sponge the hits with nearly the same amount of grace.
I shake myself.
What the hell am I doing worrying about him? I think while frowning. I should only be worried about myself.
I sway my sights over the left side of the pass with a steadying breath. “Why the hell would there be bandits here? We are miles away from Nilsan,” I ask.
Lowell backs up closer to me, his arms spread, protectively. “I’m starting to think they’re not bandits… those bullets are much higher-grade than what you can buy on the market,” he replies. “They’re some sort of well-connected wanted criminals, is my guess.”
“Don’t you criminals have some kind of code? Can’t they just let us go?” I huff, sweat sliding down my temple. My hands are cold and clammy, my bow nearly slipping out of my grip.