Chapter 59
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Well this sucks. I pretend I’m still asleep as I stare at the man behind the wheel through slitted lashes. He’s unfamiliar, but I’m still a little woozy. My brain is by whatever drug this dickweed gave me.
Fortunately, my neck is propped in a position where I can at least see some of his shoulder and I don’t have to try to move my overly-heavy head.
He’s stinky. Sweat and alcohol are pumping out of his pores.
Scout wouldn’t like him sweating all over Agile’s nice truck.
Oh no. Scout, where are you?
He wouldn’t have let someone take me if he were physically able to stop them.
But maybe they drugged him too .
Please let him be okay. My chest squeezes painfully, twisting with emotion that’s bigger than anything I’ve felt. Please let him be okay.
He’ll come for me.
His team will too. They won’t let this man get away with this. Whatever this evil idiot has in mind.
But reasons for taking me are not good. Ransom would be the easiest. But the rest…
A cold shudder runs through me, making my bound hands twitch. I never thought I’d find myself bound, at the mercy of a monster again.
But here I am. And I have to keep myself together. I need to get free.
I practice controlling my breath and listening. Oblivious to me, the man’s been talking on the phone in rapidfire something that sounds kind of like Spanish, but not.
Of course, I didn’t finish my Babel course on Spanish, so maybe I just don’t know. But something tells me it’s just a little off.
Or maybe it’s me. My brain feels like it’s swimming in molasses right now.
But I don’t have to think hard to know I’m in trouble. The tape around my wrists is all the clue I need.
Without moving my head, I open my eyes a little more and scan the floorboard. I need a weapon.
Surely there’s something in here…
A bunch of SEAL’s drive this truck. There’s got to be deadly objects inside.
The driver hits a bump in the road and my body rocks on the rear seat, changing my angle enough to see something new…
Something big and black and perfect for inflicting pain.
Yes…. I grin into the da rkness.
But how am I going to get it without Captain Asshole finding out?
He swerves slightly and I rock again.
Oh my god. I know! This is perfect.
The next bump he hits, I throw myself onto the floorboard, stifling my groan. He needs to think I’m still asleep.
A muttered curse comes from the front, but nothing else. We’re still driving on a rough road, and based on the sound of the rain on the roof, there’s a hell of a storm outside.
I carefully wiggle my hands up and wrap them around the MAG light. It’s heavy and cool against my palms. A machete would have been better, but this sucker has to be two feet long and weigh ten pounds.
Thank god, whoever bound my wrists did it in front.
Probably thinking I’m a weak female. Well, guess what? I might not be strong, but I’m determined .
He’s got another thing coming and it’s full of D-Cell batteries.
I wait and wait for the next rumble in the road, and when it comes, I sit up. The driver doesn’t look back. He’s still yelling at someone on the phone.
Please let this work.
I take a few seconds to clearly picture what I’m about to do. Then I realize he might wreck the truck when I knock his head off.
But this is it. This is my chance.
I lunge forward, swinging the light until it makes a satisfying thunk against his skull.
He grunts. The truck swerves. His foot mashes the gas.
Tree branches slap the sides of the truck as we rocket off the road.
Oh, Christ!
For a split second we’re airborne.
A scream tears out of me as the truck hits the ground.
Wham!
Everything comes to a terrifying stop with the most violent bone-rattling jolt I’ve ever felt. Even worse than the plane crash.
Lord, is this the week from hell, or what?
I grunt as my face bounces off the back of the driver’s seat. But I’m surprisingly unscathed.
The truck? I’m not sure.
And him… not so much. There's a gaping wound in the side of his head and he’s making a weird sound.
Gross. My stomach herks.
Before I have time to think about what I’ve done or what might happen now, I scramble out of the back seat and onto the wet leaves that the truck has trampled into the earth.
A shiver wracks my body and I look down. Reality sets in. I’m naked as the day I was born. No shoes either. Nothing.
Reaching back into the truck, I fish around until my hand lands on something fabric. Okay not fabric. Mesh or something.
For one single second, I’m seriously bummed. Oh, come on. It’s a mesh vest—the reflective kind when someone’s working on the side of the highway.
But it’s more than I had before.
After shoving my arms through the gigantic garment, I dare peek in through the window of the truck at the driver. His eyes are open, he’s blinking. Looking into the forest that is now lit by the wayward headlights.
My first thought is—maybe I should hit him again…
Think, Aria. Think.
You need to figure your way out of this. If you can get him out of the truck, you can take it back to the farm.
And surely the guys left the satellite phone in here, I can call for help.
But that means I need to get rid of drunk-breath first.
Fudge. This sucks.
I shiver again, the reflective vest doing nothing to keep the rain off of my skin. And while it’s tropical, it feels like I could get hypothermia.
As I’m wracking my brain, I climb over some small downed trees and make my way to the back of the truck. There’s tons of gear in there if it’s like the other truck. If I can get it open.
Given that my hands are still bound—I need to deal with that too—I squeeze the flashlight between my naked thighs and try to open the latch on the back of the truck.
Ugh! Why can’t anything be unlocked when I need it to be?
I guess I’ll just have to knock the glass out of this too?—
What was that noise?
I swing around and jolt. Drunk-breath-guy is leering at me. He literally looks like a zombie. One of his eyes is bulging. His teeth are broken. He’s covered in specks of something and rivulets of blood.
Good grief. Whatever is wrong with him did not come from the Mag Light Special. Dude must not have had his seatbelt on. Come to think of it, I didn’t see an airbag, but I don’t have time to think about that.
He makes a noise. Clearly not too messed up to growl-snort like a bull that’s about to charge. And it’s all the warning I get before he leaps at me, bloody hands outstretched, having zero problems with his legs .
“No!” I stumble back and scramble away. Panting, I scream, “Help!”
You fool, I chide myself. There is no help.
You’re in the middle of the Vandemoran jungle with a real live zombie chasing you.
Wet tree branches and gigantic tropical leaves slap my face and arms as I take off. The sound of his heavy breathing and stomping feet aren’t far behind.