Chapter 44
“For what it’s worth, I hate myself for falling for that asshole. I wasn’t using my brain. Usually, I’m more alert.”
I keep my eyes on the rough terrain as we navigate this vast landscape, with no idea where the hell we’re heading.
“Don’t hold what happened to me against yourself. He still would have found me without your help. You were just his pawn.”
“Is what you said earlier about him doing all that stuff to you true?”
I bit my top lip, not wanting to talk about it.
“That’s what made you flee all those years ago,” she quietly contemplates out loud. “It wasn’t just the guys. I suspected there was more to it, but I respected your privacy. I should have pressed you for more.”
“And I would never have told you.”
“You’re very brave. I’m not talking about all those years ago. But earlier in that underground place. You were like this pro, badass woman, determined to get out, and he almost shot me like a fucking rabbit.”
“It’s not bravery. It’s about not letting the bastard win. Years ago, I fled and went running like a dear in fear for my life. He won back then. I wasn’t going to let him this time. I had ten years to hate him, and that hatred just grew, determined that if it happened again, I would need to fight back. I’d rather die knowing I tried to fight than die and let that bastard get away with it again.”
“Do you know where we’re going?”
“Not a freaking clue.” My eyes scan everywhere for an area of road, somewhere that might lead us to civilization.
“Well, obviously, this is the desert, your neck of the neighborhood, so to speak.”
“No, it’s not,” I counter, gazing across the plateaus where colossal faults jut out, thrusting rocks upward like the spikes of a dragon emerging from the depths of the underworld.
“This is definitely not the Mojave,” I remark, scanning the unfamiliar landscape.
“Deserts look all the same to me.”
“No, they don’t. For starters, the absence of the Joshua Tree is pretty unique to the Californian Mojave,” I explain.
We’re navigating through a massive canyon that screams America.
“The vegetation here is another big giveaway that we’re not in my neck of the desert. So honestly, I think we’re still in the US, but I have no clue where,” I conclude, feeling a sense of uncertainty about our location.
“We arrived by helicopter, I have no clue when they brought you. But the flight took about an hour and a half.”
“What happened, Brittney? I mean at the restaurant.”
“Well, it was all chaotic. You threw me against the crowds; I couldn’t understand why. But then Ed….Victor appeared. I didn’t know it was him at first because he was fully masked, but I heard his voice, and he told me it was a terrorist attack and he was there to rescue me. He told me his men already had you, and like an idiot, I believed him. He said he was a scientist who worked for the government. I thought he had inside info or something!”
I tsk at her and shake my head.
“You’re such an idiot.”
“I know, and it gets worse,” she says shamefully.
“Shit like that only happens in movies, and you’re currently filming a series that’s associated with US espionage. Don’t you guys have to research stuff?”
“For fucks sake, Eden, are you going to let me finish?”
I shake my head once more and continue driving in silence.
“I kept asking about you, but he kept avoiding answering my questions. That’s when I started to suspect he wasn’t who he said he was and that maybe he was the terrorist. That’s when I became more alert to the situation. When we got to the facility, he kept me inside that room where they brought you in, but prior to that, I heard him on the phone. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but it sounded like it was his superior or something, and I caught the name Victor, which he answered to. So I realized his name wasn’t Ed. I stayed quiet because he wasn’t threatening me at the time, and I was trying to work things out and get him to take me back home. Then I saw him switch his computer screen to a security camera, and when I saw you in that cell, I screamed in panic.
“That’s when things went sour for me. I realized I wouldn’t be going home. I kept questioning him what he was doing with you, but well, you heard his bullshit. He fed me the same shit.”
Brittney suddenly goes quiet, and a sound goes off in the front panel. A red light goes off, and the jeep begins to slow down.
Fucking electric shit is losing power.
“It’s run out of juice,” I say just before it slows to a halt.
I jump out and open the back, hoping there might be a spare battery. There’s a long black case attached to a holder. Upon unclipping the hooks, I open it to find the metallic gleam of an automatic rifle catching my eye. It’s nestled in a cushioned interior, its sleek and lethal form silently waiting for purpose.
Taking the gun, I pick up the fully loaded magazine and insert it into the weapon. Once in place, I chamber a round by pulling back and releasing the charging handle, bringing a cartridge from the magazine into the firing chamber, making it ready to fire.
“Check the glove compartment,” I instruct.
“How did you know how to do that?” Brittney asks, a little scared and amazed.
“I’ve had instructions. One doesn’t live alone in the desert without learning how to protect themselves.”
In case he ever returned, I needed to be ready.
“I think that’s a gun,” she says, and I bend to look. It’s attached to a holder.
“No kidding, Sherlock. Take it. You might need it.”
“It’s a gun,” she repeats.
I roll my eyes. Maybe I would have ended up like Brittney had certain things in my life not happened. But living the life I have made me see things in different colored glasses than her.
“Take it out, Brittney. It won’t kill you. It’s pointing in the wrong direction.”
“Are you f’ing kidding me?!” she exclaims, and I can see the fear all over her face.
I lean in, pull it out, check the single stack magazine, and make sure the safety clip is on.
“You only have maybe five or ten rounds, maybe less. So use it wisely.” I hand it to her.
“Do I have to use it?” she looks at it reluctantly as if I’m handing her a bag of snakes.
“Well, only if you see Victor Darkspire. Then please shoot the bastard.”
“Darkspire?” She takes the gun from me with an amused grin.
“Yeah, I made up that name. It goes with the dark look I think he was aiming for.”
She chuckles. “You’re funny in times of danger.”
“I wasn’t always like this. I was once like ….” I look at her sympathetically. “Like you. Confused, scared, and a lot lost. But tragedy hardens you. I spent the first eight months backpacking through the roughest areas of Mexico and then ironically ended up in Cancun. Catalina was with me, but it didn’t make a difference to our safety. A middle-aged older lady and an eighteen-year-old navigating through a country where neither of us spoke the language, and after that crazy experience, we ended up living in one of America’s loneliest deserts. I’m not the same person I was ten years ago. I had to learn to survive if I wanted to live. It comes naturally to most humans if they allow for it.”
“I don’t want to die here,” she says with a ragged voice.
I show her how to unclip the safety of the gun and explain when it’s in safety mode, there’s no chance she’ll shoot her foot or me.
Suddenly, the distant humming of machines echoes within the canyon. I raise my hand to quiet Brittney.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking at the jeep. “There was probably a tracker on it. Come with me.”
I shove the smaller gun inside the waistband of her skinny-fit white jeans and start running to climb to the top of a large boulder and look out towards the vast expanse of the landscape, offering me a bird’s eye view.
From a distance, I see the electric jeeps stealthily maneuvering through the narrow canyon. The soft whining of tires on the rocky terrain creates an eerie echo that heightens the sense of their approach.
“Fuck!” Brittney looks down at her knees. “I must have cut them climbing up.”
Glancing downward, I notice her jeans are filthy, with her knees cut and bleeding through the light-colored fabric.
Her face is swollen, bearing a motley bluish-black hue against her fair skin, a souvenir from Victor, who sent her flying from his violent outburst. Despite the pain she must be in, she’s putting on a brave face.
“Does it hurt?” I ask, reaching into my pocket, knowing I probably don’t have any tissues.
“No,” she replies, staring at the device I hold in my hands. “What’s that?”
“Rick’s alarm. He gave it to me, and I carry it everywhere. With everything going on, I forgot about it.”
“Hon, I think Rick died in the car blast.”
I shiver from that thought.
“No idea if the signal catches wherever the fuck we are, but the guys have an app that alerts them if it’s pressed.” I press it down and do it three more times for good measure.
“Come,” I say, pocketing the device. “They’re going to discover the jeep, and we need to get going.”
“To where?”
I point in the direction of the large, towering rock formation opposite us, and her eyes widen in disbelief.
“That’s a whole mountain!”
“They’re following the jeep’s tracking device, so if we head behind this valley into the neighboring one, we’ll have the advantage over them if they come our way, leaving them exposed and shooting at them. Between us, we have about twenty, maybe thirty rounds.”
“What happens after that?”
“We hope our aim is better than your choice in men.”
She rolls her eyes at me.
“You’re an ass.”
“I love you too, Brit.”
Under the harsh morning sun, we climb back down and race across the arid red rock desert floor. A relentless gust carries the echoes of our footsteps. The terrain is unforgiving; thankfully, I’m wearing my black biker boots, but Brittney is in no way equipped in her outfit, and those designer lamb skin loafers are going to wear out on this rough terrain.
“You look like G.I. Jane minus the shaved head,” Brittney says amusingly.
“I feel more like Furiosa from Mad Max,” I chuckle as I sling the rifle over my shoulder.
“I guess the all-black works, but honestly, the color matches everything. My hair, my eyeliner, my mascara, my heart, soul, sense of humor. It’s just an easy color to wear.” I grin at her, and she bursts into laughter.
“Oh my god! I swear, girl, we need a full weekend together. I miss you so much!”
“I’ll hold you to that. After this, I doubt I’ll have a career anymore. I bet the media’s going to town hooking me up with the car bomb. They will demand a public execution this time.”
Brittney frowns but not at me, just the damn situation. The media has had it in for me for a while. I don’t know why. One minute, they loved me, and the next, they couldn’t wait to shoot me down so fast.
“And this time, we’re going to town with the lawsuits! We’re not letting them get away with this!” she exclaims, and I love her perseverance.
As the landscape turns into a labyrinth of imposing rock structures, desperation fuels our climb. The rocks, weathered and uneven, pose a tough challenge. Our hands, smeared with red dust, grip onto protruding edges as we navigate the dangerous ascent. The sheer drops on either side hint at the consequences of stepping the wrong way.
“Fuck!” Brittney scowls as the rock beneath her foot crumbles. “This is fucking hard.”
“You can do it, Brit,” I encourage, but I know this is crazy.
Despite it all, I’m determined to get to the top, and as we ascend higher, we’re driven by an instinct for survival.
“Dammit!” Brittney slips again.
“Just don’t look down,” I advise.
“You think I’m crazy? No fucking way,” she exclaims. “Anyway, if I had to judge between the two of us, I’d say you’re the most insane. You know, you could have just returned to LA and gotten therapy or something. Instead, you chose to abandon everything and roam the desert for ten years like some goddam born-again rock star!”
“Are you upset at me?” I say, gripping onto a rock jetting out, testing it, and pulling my body weight upwards.
“Maybe a little. I missed you. But I never questioned your decision because I was afraid you’d do a runner on me like you did with the boys.”
I stop and think about what she’s declared.
“I’m sorry, Brit. I was afraid to talk. Well, you’ve seen what a bastard he can be.”
“I can’t believe I willingly gave myself to that rapist!”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. There are women who fell for Ted Bundy’s charms and then got murdered for it. So shit happens.”
“Victor-whatever-his-fucking-name-is is a brilliant comparison to that psychopath.”
Suddenly, a bullet ricochets off the rock next to me.
“What the fuck was that?” Brittney screams.
“Ted-fucking-Bundy’s reincarnate!” I shout. “Come on, we need to get to the top!”
They’re still at the bottom, and we’re closer to the top. Behind us, the relentless pursuit continues. The atmosphere resonates with tension of the chase, and we continue pressing on.
The higher we go, the smoothness of the rocks disappears, and they become looser and harder. It doesn’t help that we’re getting shot at either.
“They’re getting close,”
“No, they’re not. If they were, we’d be dead. Their aim is way off.”
I’m talking bullshit here, but I don’t want Brittney to fall into despair and give up. The first time I faced death, I was ready to give up and give in. This is her first real life brush with danger; it’s too easy to give up. But when you beat death once, you’re prepared. You fight.
Perhaps I won’t make it out of this canyon today, but hell if I’m giving in.
With that thought, I continue climbing. Every pull takes so much out of me, but I’m determined to reach the top.
“I can’t,” Brit sobs below me.
“Yes, you fucking can,” I scream. “Don’t you dare give up on me!”
“We”re the warriors of the night, dancing in the moonlight. Sisters standing strong, singing our song.” I start singing the chorus to one of the biggest hits I ever had back when we were Sugar Vixens. “Never giving up, girl power rising up. In the rhythm of our hearts, we”re tearing worlds apart,” I sing,hoping Brittney joins in with me.
“On this journey, side by side, With every step, we”ll reach new heights.” I hear her faint voice behind me, joining in. “Fearless hearts, breaking through the walls, Together we rise, no mountain”s too tall.
“We”re the warriors of the night, dancing in the moonlight, Sisters standing strong, singing our song. Never giving up, girl power rising up. In the rhythm of our hearts, we”re tearing worlds apart.
“In unity we sing, in strength, we believe, This anthem of sisterhood, it”s our time to achieve. Never giving up, our voices loud and clear. In this symphony of sisterhood, there”s no room for fear.”
We continue singing the song as we climb, our voices probably off-key and way too flat, but who gives a shit. I don’t have to worry about Brit behind me as long as I hear her voice.
Finally, on my last climb, I yell, hurling myself up and not wasting a second, throwing the safety off the rifle and switching it to semi-automatic mode. Thank god, I’m prepared for the recoil on this monster and can control it enough to maintain aim.
“Get behind me,” I tell Brittney as soon as she’s up.
I stop shooting momentarily and look down, my eyes scanning the mountain.
“Fuck, it’s high up here,” she says, staring below. “Do you think they’ve climbed down?”
“No, I think they’re dead,” I say, feeling very strange about it.
“Oh. Shit. Have you killed before?”
I turn and look at her.
“Are you serious? Do you think I do this kind of shit for fun?”
“I don’t know…you look like a pro…”
Her words trail off as I see movement below and try to aim this time. I don’t have that many rounds left.
My aim is fucking atrocious, but up here, we’re at the advantage.
I shoot my last round.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Why aren’t you shooting?”
Throwing the rifle to the side, I stare at her.
“It’s finished.”
“So what do we do now?”
I shrug my shoulder, and she hands me the handgun.
“It’s for closer range.”
The distant hum of a helicopter vibrates through the vastness of the landscape. I strain my ears to catch the sound. Watching the rhythmic thumping of rotor blades slice through the dry air as it approaches, I silently curse.
“Probably more of the demented asshole’s soldiers,” Brit says, and I know this time, we’re fucked.
“That means he’s still alive,” I say, looking down towards where I had shot.
“Of course, I’m fucking alive, little mouse,” I spin around to find Victor standing with his gun aimed at us and one of his masked men standing next to him. The side of his neck is covered with bandages.
“This time, there isn’t going to be any fun and games. You killed my men. You will pay for that in hell, and mark my words when I tell you the throne belongs to me.”
My gaze meets the cold steel of the gun in his hands.
Time seems to stammer. Each heartbeat thumps louder in my chest than the last. Fear, swift and suffocating, wraps its icy fingers around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. Dread morphs into a chilling cocktail of terror and disbelief as I grapple with the surrealness of the situation.
“Drop the gun, Eden Rivers. Your story ends here,” he says, raising his gun at me.
Yet amid all this horror, a flicker of defiance sparks within me. I feel the heavy steel weapon in my tight hand grip, and with the flick of my thumb, I let the safety down.
“Fuck you, Victor Darkspire.”