Chapter 35
My heart is thumping by the time I jog out of town. The early morning sun is warm, but not harsh. It won’t be long though before it’s another scalding hot day in Vandemora.
I don’t have a plan beyond catching a ride with someone. Preferably not a murderous gun-toting rebel.
It’s not a great plan. But I’ve got to get away from Santa Rosa until I get a handle on what’s happening.
I reach the intersection of the main highway, if you can call it that. It’s no more than an unmarked strip of alternating pavement and dirt that snakes off into the distance.
As I stand in the shade of a nearby tree, I say a prayer.
It’s rusty and not the perfect fit. But it’s all I’ve got.
I learned how to say it when I stayed at my friend’s house when I was little. A slice of pain hits my heart, taking my breath.
Donna was Kara’s mother’s name.
I can still taste the cupcakes she made for us. The way she’d tuck me in when I’d sleep over. The hugs. The laughter. Things I’d never experienced before.
When she’d tuck me and Kara in at night, she’d help us say our prayer, her singsong voice wrapping around me and sending me off into sweet dreams.
So unlike the nightmares I had at home—living in the house of a monster.
I rub at my temple as I’m assaulted by memories.
Tears try to work their way up my throat, but I won’t allow them. I can’t go back there. Especially not to the day Kara and Donna moved away, and my tiny, fragile heart broke for the thousandth time.
They were my only glimpse of what life could be like.
I’m lost in thought when a glint of light catches my eye. I hold my breath. It’s a vehicle, lumbering down the hillside toward me.
As I narrow my eyes, it comes into focus.
Oh my god. A bus to the city!
I’m standing by the roadside when it trundles to a stop at the intersection. One man gets off. I get on.
After quickly paying the cash fare from the small amount of money I have in my pocket, I squeeze into the throng of people. I catch my breath as I reach for the handle that’s hanging from the ceiling.
Thankfully, I was the only one waiting. Not one more person could squeeze in. Men and women fill every seat, the entire aisle, and they’re even standing near the driver.
There’s also a goat. I happen to be the lucky person standing next to him…her… I have no idea what it is, but it has on a yellow collar. All I can think of is that I’m glad I scavenged my boots out of Lucas’s cabina after he left.
Those little hooves look like they’d be hell on toes.
“Can I pet your goat?”
The woman smiles and nods. But I have a feeling she didn’t understand me. My brain is so frazzled right now, I can’t even imagine trying to figure out the word for goat in Spanish.
I scratch the animal’s head. It bleats baaa.
She smiles and pats the thing’s head too. Okay. I can understand that. The goat is happy. So is she.
But the knots inside my stomach threaten to twist me completely in half.
I need to report in, but that conversation isn’t suited for a bus full of ears. Or the side of the road when I was waiting to try to catch a ride. Once I get to the next town I’ll make the call.
Our bus sways and jolts over the barely maintained road. A weird tension in my stomach intensifies. My skin breaks out into a fine sweat, peppering my arms and neck with moisture.
My mouth fills with saliva.
To distract myself, I let my thoughts turn to Lucas. I’ll have to face him soon, he has my backpack, which holds my passport and other important things.
But I need to try to salvage my career. I have a mission to fulfill. Then… maybe he’ll understand.
Or maybe he won’t.
Not that we have a future.
Lucas is an operator. He has an important job. A man with skills like him and his team are surely in demand all over the world. The last thing I want is to be waiting for a man…
My heart pinches.
Stupid me.
Why would I even think he’d want something with a woman like me?
I have nothing to offer.
No, I’m best alone. What I’m chasing is purely selfish. I have to have proof that I’m more than all those people back in my small town said I am…
The drone of the bus lulls most of the passengers, but the swaying makes my stomach worse and worse. The hot air grows more stifling. The goat leans against me, its scratchy fur rubbing against my bare leg, making me even hotter.
We hit a violent dip in the road, and the bus tilts sharply. My gut rolls and clenches as my toes start to tingle.
That’s the moment I know what’s coming.
God, why now?
I haven’t been car sick in years.
My eyes flood with water as a wave of nausea hits me. “Sir!” I hail the bus driver, raising my hand frantically.
When he glances at me, his expression transforms to horror. His eyes shoot wide and his mouth takes the shape of a silent scream.
Yep, buddy.
I’m about to puke. I must be green as a grape.
It’s obvious that the man knows the look well, and the last thing he wants is someone throwing up—and god forbid—starting a domino-effect of yakking.
He veers to the side of the road as he jams the brakes.
“Please, excuse me!” I push between two men with my heart in my throat and my stomach contents close on its heels.
The door creaks open a few inches. I grab it with shaking hands and try to pry it apart. It groans but doesn’t budge.
Come on!
My stomach rolls and clenches.
The opening is too small. I can’t even fit my head outside.
Behind me, the driver yells something.
At the last second, the door bursts open, and I blindly crash down the steps and tumble to the grass on the side of the road.
Thank you, god.
I’m overcome with a violent spasm in the pit of my stomach. It feels like my soul is coming up. My knees buckle, and I crash to the ground.
Really?
I cannot catch a break.
Ugh. When the horrid wrenching is finished, I wipe my sweaty brow with the back of my hand.
There must be a hundred eyes on me from the bus. I can feel them burning into my back as I suck air.
I’m trying to get my balance on my feet when I hear a sound. With my vision swimming, I slowly turn around to face the road we just traveled.
There’s a truck barreling toward us. Dust is whipping in the air in the wake of the tires. But that’s not the only sound. The bus engine is revving.
No!
The door slams closed. The driver hits the gas, and much to my horror, the big green beast shudders and takes off.
“Wait! Wait! I’m coming.”
I scramble to chase after it, but I’m too slow. A cloud of diesel exhaust drowns out my screams. To add insult to injury…the dirty air causes a choking fit.
This cannot be happening. I’m stranded on the side of the road.
When I turn to look, the truck is still coming. Barreling down.
My knees are trembling and a cold tentacle of fear wraps around my neck.
The one upside is that there’s nothing left inside my stomach now.
Because I have nowhere to go.
Nowhere to hide.
There’s no cover.
I don’t have any weapons.
If the truck is full of rebels, I’m so screwed.