Chapter 4 #2
She glanced around, remembering that they’d been waiting for a delivery truck to arrive.
And one had. Damn if Crusher wasn’t right.
Once she registered the truck that had stopped in front of the store, all vestiges of sleep disappeared.
Her heartbeat sped in anticipation of “hopping” onto the back of the unsuspecting driver’s vehicle.
She sat up straight, at once missing the warmth and comfort of resting her head in his lap.
How had she gotten there? She didn’t remember moving.
She pushed her hair back behind her ears as her cheeks burned.
“I’ll go first,” Crusher half-mouthed, half-whispered, pointing to himself and then the truck. “I’ll let you know when it’s safe to follow.”
Marta nodded, remaining silent, wondering if he’d seen the heavily armed men ride back through town while she’d been sleeping. She figured he’d taken them into account and would sneak accordingly.
Crusher rose and slipped swiftly along the side of the building toward the rear of the truck, just visible from Marta’s position, lying in the underbrush.
He looked left, then right, before approaching the back of the truck. Once there, he stared into the interior for a precious second. Then, with another glance around, he hopped in.
“Easy for him to do,” Marta grumbled under her breath. “He probably practices that move in his spare time.”
Crusher’s head poked out of the rear of the truck. He looked all around and then waved a hand, urging her to join him.
Marta pushed to her feet a lot less gracefully than Crusher, her body stiff from overused muscles that hadn’t been exercised in three weeks.
Moving as quickly as she could, she ran along the side of the store, stopping at the corner.
After a quick glance both ways, she stepped away from the building, toward the truck.
Voices sounded from the front of the store.
As Marta reached the corner of the truck and lifted her arm, two men exited the store, talking to each other. Before she could duck behind the truck, one of the men turned in her direction, still talking with the man in the doorway.
A strong, calloused hand wrapped around her good wrist and yanked her upward and into the truck. She landed on her belly with a soft grunt. She held her breath and listened, afraid to move and make more noise.
The men in front of the building continued talking, calling out goodbyes.
Footsteps sounded on the gravel outside. Crusher helped her to her feet, shoved her behind a stack of boxes and slid in behind her.
The footsteps stopped at the rear of the truck. An overhead door rumbled downward, casting them into darkness.
More gravel crunched alongside the truck as the driver walked back to the front of the vehicle, opened the door and climbed in. Moments later, the engine fired to life and the truck lurched forward, heading out of town in the opposite direction from which it had come.
Not until they’d gone far enough to clear the edges of town did Marta release the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
Crusher had been right. The truck was heading the way they wanted to go. They wouldn’t have to walk.
Marta laughed quietly.
“What’s so funny?” Crusher asked.
“Nothing. I guess I’m just releasing tension.” Then, as she thought about the door the driver had pulled down, she had another thought. “Now that we’re in the back of this truck, can we get out?”
Crusher cursed and shot to his feet beside her.
Marta’s relief was temporary. She sat up straight and stared up at the man in the limited light that filtered through the edges of the door. “We can get out, can’t we?”
Crusher strode to the rolling door, gripped the metal bars that framed it and tugged upward.
The door remained stubbornly closed, giving Marta a twinge of panic.
Crusher turned back to her, shaking his head.
“We might not get out until the driver opens it again.” He stared around at the boxes and crates of produce and other products.
“Based on what’s in here, he has other stops to make.
Produce can’t sit in here for long or it’ll go bad.
” He shrugged and crossed back to where she was, swaying with the wheels bouncing over ruts in the gravel road. “We should see what might be edible.”
As their eyesight adjusted to the dim lighting, they found boxes of apples, oranges, mangos, potatoes, tomatoes and more.
With no money to pay and having had the empanada earlier, Marta satisfied herself with an apple and sank her teeth into the juicy fruit.
“Based on the GPS, the next town is only ten miles. It shouldn’t take long to get there.
We’ll need to be ready when the driver opens the door.
Since he’ll be unloading goods, there’s no way he won’t see us.
As I see it, we can do one of two things.
We can casually get out, thank the driver and be on our way, or we can jump out and make a run for it before he decides to call whatever law enforcement might be available. ”
Marta swallowed her bite of apple, her lips twisting into a grimace.
“Or, we do a combination of both, depending on the situation. Thank the driver for the ride and walk away. If he has an issue with his stowaways, we then run like hell.” She pushed to her feet, her neck sore from tilting back to look up at him.
Crusher grinned. “Not only is the scientist smart, but she’s also crafty and has gumption.”
“And she’s right in front of you.”
The truck hit a pothole and dipped sharply to the right, sending Marta crashing into Crusher.
His arms came up around her, pulling her tightly against his body, steadying her.
Marta’s cheek pressed against the hard planes of his chest. Once again, she marveled at how hard his muscles felt beneath her palms and how safe she felt enveloped in his arms.
The truck kept moving, bouncing along the road.
Crusher seemed in no hurry to release his hold.
Frankly, Marta wasn’t in a rush to get away.
After a few more significant potholes, Crusher whispered, “Maybe we should sit before one of us goes flying.”
Marta’s fingers briefly curled into his shirt before she nodded. “We should.”
Still, they remained on their feet for a few more seconds until Crusher loosened his arms from around her body and took her good hand as she lowered herself to sit on the metal floor of the truck. Crusher dropped down beside her.
“Where exactly are we going?” Marta asked.
“My boss has a friend who owns a coffee plantation, an expat who’s been here for the past eight or ten years. They served in Afghanistan together. He has a plane.”
“So, he’s going to fly us to Panama?”
Crusher nodded. “That’s the plan. We just need to get to the coffee plantation. It’s located outside the town we’re headed for.”
“If the driver happens to stop in that town,” Marta pointed out.
“If he doesn’t,” Crusher grinned, “we’ll just have to make enough noise that he stops to figure out what the hell’s going on.”
“And hope he isn’t armed or that he doesn’t have a side job working for Vasquez.” Marta stared down at her bulky wrist, wrapped so neatly in bandages.
“We’ll get out of the back of this truck and make it to my boss’s friend,” Crusher said. “One way or another.”
The truck slowed, made a turn and came to a stop.
Crusher leaped to his feet.
The driver’s door opened and closed, and footsteps crunched on gravel, moving away from the truck.
“He might be going to notify the store owner of the delivery,” Crusher whispered. “Come on.” He pulled Marta to her feet and crossed to the door.
Expecting him to wait for the driver to return and open the door, Marta was surprised when Crusher bent, gripped the metal frame holding the overhead door together and gave it a sharp tug.
The door jerked free of whatever catch had held it in place during the ride and rolled upward.