Chapter 15
We get going after a few more minutes, and I’m really dragging.
Maybe it’s the release from having sex with Ben after going so many years without. Maybe it’s the emotional drain of my mother’s death. Maybe it’s just from two days straight of rigorous walking.
But after another hour I feel so heavy it takes colossal effort to keep trudging.
Ben doesn’t look particularly spry either, so I wonder if he’s feeling the same. I’ve spent my life avoiding revealing weakness to anyone, so I don’t actually put it into words.
I don’t have to.
“My offer to carry you on my back is still good,” he says, his eyes glinting.
That makes me laugh. “I’ll manage. It just feels like I’m hauling around a giant anvil on my shoulders.”
“I kinda feel that way too. But we’re more than halfway there. Few more hours and we’ll be back. We can always rest again if we need to.”
“It’s nice of you to say we as if you need an extra rest too, but I’ll be okay.” I sigh and straighten my shoulders, which have fallen into a slump. “I hope.”
He’s reaching over to give the hair of my wig a tweak when the sound of a motor behind us makes us stiffen and move off the road quickly.
I’m not worried. It’s probably another transport truck or a hired motor driving someone with credits enough to pay, just like we’ve seen throughout today and yesterday.
But walkers shouldn’t stay on the road when a vehicle approaches because sometimes the drivers aren’t paying attention or don’t even slow down.
As soon as we’ve moved to the gravel on the edge of the road, I glance back to see what’s coming.
“Shit,” I breathe out, grabbing for Ben’s arm.
It’s one of the mini-trucks Central Cities guards drive around when they’re on their own. I know who it is even before he slows down and pulls even with us.
That same damn guard from the village.
The one who kept leering at me.
Ben is trying to act casual, but he’s got his right hand at his side near his gun. It’s currently covered by his shirttails, but he’s ready to grab it in less than two seconds. He moves intentionally so he’s partly in front of me without looking like he’s doing it on purpose.
“We meet again,” he says in a jovial voice that’s not at all like him. “Can we do anything for you, sir?”
The sir definitely grates on him, but he keeps it from his voice.
“Thought I might catch up with you,” the man says, craning his neck to see me around Ben’s big body. “I wanted to give the lady a ride to save her from such a long walk.”
“Oh, thank you,” I say, putting a hand on Ben’s shirt to keep him from acting too hastily. Maybe we can still talk our way out of this, despite the persistence of my obnoxious suitor. “That’s so good of you. But we’re enjoying the stroll, and I don’t want to leave my man behind.”
“Pretty girl like you can do better than a villager.”
My hand clenches in Ben’s flannel shirt. “Thank you, but I enjoy a simple village life, and he treats me real good. Thank you so much for your interest though. I can tell you’re quite a man.”
I’m pleading with any force at work in the universe—Ben’s archaic god or anything else with power over human lives—that this will be enough to get the guard to move on.
But the universe is rarely kind, and today is no exception.
The guard’s face turns ugly in that way I’ve seen before. That expression that warns they’re about to make an aggressive move.
“Don’t shoot,” I bite out softly as I feel the tension in Ben’s body clench harder.
His hand was already on its way to his holster, but he stops it with a jerk. Instead of pulling his weapon, he strides toward the mini-truck where the guard is starting to aim his big gun.
He’s planning to kill Ben.
And then take what he wants from me.
There’s absolutely no doubt or question. I can see it clearly on his face.
But Ben gets there before the guard can level his weapon. He yanks the gun out of the guard’s hand and then slams the butt end hard into the side of his head.
The man slumps onto the steering wheel, hitting the horn.
Ben pulls him backward to silence the horn. I run over to check his pulse.
“He’s dead,” I say after a minute of detecting no heartbeat.
Ben killed the other man with one blow.
“Good call about not shooting,” Ben says, wiping sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “I wasn’t thinkin’, but if a guard is shot, they’ll put effort into tracking who did it. They might connect it back to us.”
“Yeah. No need to risk it. I wish we could take this truck, but I think we might be able to stage this as an accident. There’s a tree up there. Maybe he lost control and slammed into it.”
“That’s perfect. If it’s an accident, they won’t be lookin’ for a culprit and start asking questions in the village. The worst thing would be for them to connect the pesky rebel group with Teresa and her family.”
“I know. We’ve been so careful for so long. We don’t want to blow it now. But the accident could explain the head injury, and then they won’t be looking for anyone else involved.”
With this agreed, Ben and I get to work.
I return the dead guard’s gun to its standard position and adjust his body in the seat.
Then Ben shifts the transmission into neutral so he can push the mini-truck down the road until it’s on the top of a slight hill leading down toward the tree we identified.
He changes the angle of the vehicle, lining it up with the tree, and then shifts it into drive, pushing down on the accelerator and then jumping off when the truck gets going faster.
It hits the tree with a loud, satisfying impact. The front of the truck gets smashed, and the guard hits the windshield violently.
Looking at it afterward, Ben and I agree it looks exactly right.
The guard lost control and crashed his truck into a tree, killing himself in the process.
With no reason to suspect anything different, they’ll likely not look any further than that.
Ben and I stare at each other for a minute. Then I nod. “Okay. That was unfortunate, but this is as good as we can manage. Let’s get out of here so no one happens by and sees us.”
“Yep. The asshole was askin’ for it. He really believed I was gonna stand there and let him take you without a fight.” He grabs my hand as we keep walking.
I’m not sure why he took my hand. Maybe some kind of urgent impulse. But he holds on to it as we hurry, walking as fast as we can until we’re well out of sight of the crashed vehicle and dead guard.
When it feels like we’re safe again, we slow down. My blood is still pumping, but I force myself to level off my breathing.
Ben is doing the same. He gives me a sidelong look. “Y’okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Really glad you were with me.”
“Where else would I be?”