Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO_
HAZARD
Decaf watches as Scout and I load up the car with our stuff.
It’s not like we had much to begin with, but somehow, we’ve accumulated a shit ton of things we probably don’t need.
We’ve got a whole box of nonperishable snacks, some MREs that will be a last resort kind of thing, and our clothes.
There’s also a giant box of medical supplies to go with Scout’s already full kit.
If I was thinking this journey was going to be easy, the provisions we’re taking put a huge dint in that.
I catch Decaf’s eye with each pass I make back and forth from the car to the cabin, and as time goes on, I’m sensing more and more hesitance on his part.
“We’re almost ready to hit the road,” Scout says as he heads back inside. “I’ve got one more load to bring out.”
I slow my steps as I reach Decaf and lower my voice. “You can say you’re not ready to go. You’ve still got a week or two in the cast. You’re moving a lot quicker and aren’t in as much pain, but what if something goes wrong out there?”
“Isn’t that why we’re moving slow? To reduce the risk of anything going wrong?
Besides, it’s too late now. If we’re making our move, the leftovers from Mike Bravo are too, and once whoever’s coming after us notices that, it’s all over.
It’s best to just get this done. Once we’re in Montenegro, we can think about everything else.
All we should focus on is getting out safely. ”
“We’re not going to be able to do that if you’re not ready to move.”
“I’m fine.” He turns on his heel to walk inside.
Ah, the Decaf who’s closed off and too proud is back. I blame the lack of time or ability to be alone to make him come. The week Scout wasn’t here was the easiest we’ve had.
When Scout reappears with his last bag of stuff, I step in front of him to get in his way.
“We don’t have time for this,” he singsongs.
“Are we sure we should be leaving today? What about Decaf’s arm?
What if someone finds us? Do we even know if we’re still targets?
Nothing has happened to anyone since the car bombing and the simultaneous attack on Atlas’s house.
Maybe that was, like, their warning for us to scatter, and now they’re done.
Who’s even coming after us? Because there’s the big, bad government, sure, but who?
The administration? A particular arm of intelligence?
Is leaving the US what they want so they can send the CIA after us?
Saint said his friend from his black ops days gave him a heads-up so—”
Scout drops his bag to the dusty dirt drive and takes hold of my shoulders. “Hey, whoa, where is all this coming from?”
I glance behind us, back at the house, to make sure Decaf isn’t lingering, waiting to pounce if I dare imply he’s not ready to leave.
“Decaf doesn’t seem like he’s in the right …
headspace. Physically, I think he can do this, but I’m not sure he thinks he can.
Yet, he’s pushing anyway because he doesn’t know how to ask for fucking help. ”
Scout rubs his jaw. “If we back out now, he’ll know we’re worried about him, and that will not make for a fun living situation.”
“Has he always been this stubborn and bullheaded, or has that only come with age? My father’s diaries always said how chill he was, and I mean, I’ve seen that side of him. But then any stressor turns him into this rigid guy I’m not sure I like.”
“You’ve seen a chill side of Decaf? The man we named because the only thing that makes him remotely chill is caffeine? He must really like you. Hell, I would say that’s more like love. I thought that was the case yesterday when he let you drink from his cup, but now …”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“Joking. Mostly. But also not. He shows you a side of him that he doesn’t show anyone else.
Not even the rest of us who have worked with him for almost a decade.
You’re special to him, and if you’re going to be together, you’re going to have to deal with his stubborn side.
Or, I don’t know, lobotomize him to get him to stop. ”
I snort. “That’s your advice? Put up with it or drill into his brain? There isn’t a happy medium somewhere in there, like, I don’t know, make him go to therapy and talk about it?”
Scout laughs. “You have more chance of him agreeing to the lobotomy.”
“Good talk. You’re really great at this relationship advice thing.”
“You want professional advice? This is why relationships in the workplace are a bad idea. Because if he says he’s ready to take on this trip, he’s going to do it, and you don’t get a say.
And if we’re on the road and you’re too distracted worrying about him while he’s worrying about whatever is going through his head, then it’s going to be dangerous for me.
So now we have three distracted people fleeing for their lives.
How do you think this is going to work out for us? ”
“All the more reason to stay!” I yell. Too loudly.
“We’re not staying,” Decaf says from the doorway, his voice gruff. “End of story. I’ve got this.”
“You heard the man. Let’s get on the road. First stop is Reno.”
I glare at Scout.
“Or sooner. Depending on how we’re all feeling. We’re not catching up with the others for a couple of days yet. We can take our time making our way north.”
Now it’s Decaf’s turn to glare at me.
I still think it’s too soon to be doing this, but Scout is right. I either have to deal with it or physically restrain Decaf myself, because Scout sure as shit isn’t going to help me do it.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” I say as we enter the dump of a motel room just outside of Reno.
It’s the middle of the night, Scout having gone the long way around to getting here, reiterating how we need to keep a low profile and not stick to the one route in and out of somewhere.
Between that and Decaf needing to stop to stretch out because of pain from sitting for so long, I’m ready to crash out and wake up in a week when we’re already out of here.
“We need to keep a low profile,” Scout says.
“I know, but …” The carpet is old, and there are stains and worn patches that I don’t want to know about, the comforters on the side-by-side double beds are an ugly leafy pattern of dark greens and red spikey flowers, and the wooden-colored facade on the walls is thin and peeling.
Even I know real wood doesn’t peel. Then I catch a glimpse of the bathroom.
Rust city. “The cabin wasn’t much, but it was cozy.
I’m starting to think if the assassins on our ass won’t kill us, whatever disease we pick up in here will.
” I point to the two beds. “Do you think that pattern was chosen to hide the bloodstains or cum?”
“Probably both,” Decaf says.
He’s been quiet today, even when he was in pain. The only reason we stopped for him was because I noticed he wasn’t doing well. It’s been driving me crazy because how hard is it for him to say, “Hey, I need to rest for a bit”?
Too hard, apparently.
“The only people who rent these by-the-hour places are people trying not to be found,” I say. “Which means they will look for us here. We should go to a five-star hotel. Way more inconspicuous.”
“Of course. You’re absolutely right. There are no security cameras or anything in those types of hotels,” Scout deadpans.
I grunt. “Fine. I will stay in the murder room, but maybe we could find a Home Depot or hardware store and pick up some plastic sheeting. Not only will it protect us against the mattresses, but when we are inevitably killed in our sleep, it’ll be easy cleanup for whoever takes us out.”
Scout blinks at me and then looks at Decaf.
Decaf cracks a smile. “He’s being dramatic. Poor guy is used to getting shot at in high rollers’ hotel rooms in Vegas.”
“That was one time. And, I mean, even with the gunshots, it was nicer than this.”
“When we get to Montenegro, Decaf can spoil you all he wants. Until then, you’re stuck slumming it.”
Maybe we should’ve stolen the blankets from the cabin.
I put a finger to my lips and glance between the beds and the floor.
“Why do you look like you’re trying to make an important decision?” Decaf asks me.
“Because I am. Do you think there are more germs on the bed or on the floor? I’m trying to decide where I’m sleeping.”
Decaf laughs. “You really are dramatic. If you stop complaining, I’ll let you sleep on top of me. How about that?”
“Deal!”
Scout sighs. “I should’ve gotten my own room.”